Sarah's Christmas Miracle by Mary Ellis Page A

and headed toward the sound of laughter. Because he didn’t see Sarah among the girls already skating or huddling close to the bonfire, he had time for some male camaraderie.
    “Adam, over here,” hollered a friend. “We’re a man short on our team.”
    He laced up his skates, turned up his collar, and glided over to join the game. The ice had frozen thick and glassy over the pond’s deep end, offering a smooth surface for skate blades. Early arrivals had swept the surface clear of snow with giant push brooms. Unlike Sarah, he loved winter. With the wind whistling in his ears, skates scraping on ice, and shouts of encouragement from his teammates, Adam never grew cold because the fast action kept his blood pumping through his veins. Finally, the team captains called for a snack break.
    Snacks? In his hurry to leave, he’d forgotten to grab a bag of chips or a tin of cookies. His thermos of hot coffee had doubtlessly grown cold by now. “I didn’t bring anything to eat,” he said as the men skated toward the bank.
    “Don’t worry,” said one of his friends. “The gals always bring plenty. Rebekah Beachy brought a pot of sloppy joes, and Jessie Yoder brought corn dogs. Jessie kept the corn dogs warm with a battery-powered heating pad, while Rebekah kept her pot warm with hot coals.”
    Adam nodded, duly impressed with female ingenuity. But with the mention of her sister’s name, Adam remembered Sarah and felt guilty. He’d played hockey for more than an hour and hadn’t thought once of his girl. As the men approached the bonfire, where lawn chairs ringed the warmth, he spotted Sarah. With her hands beneath her wool cloak, her bonnet pulled forward to shield her face, and her skirt down to the frozen ground, Sarah Beachy was barely recognizable. She stood so still she could have been a female scarecrow, positioned to thwart scavenging crows.
    “Sarah,” he called while still several paces away.
    She half turned, revealing a porcelain face with an expression of misery. “Hello, Adam. Lovely weather we’re having, no?”
    “Jah,” he agreed, “but it would be nice to see the sun every now and then.” He held out his palms to the roaring blaze. The heat began to seep through his soggy leather gloves.
    She cocked her head to the side. “I was being sarcastic. It’s colder than the North Pole out here and that wind nearly cuts a person in half.” Several of her friends nodded in agreement and moved closer, as though closing ranks.
    He regretted playing hockey for so long. Because he’d invited Sarah to the party, he should have been more aware of her comfort. “Let’s get you warmed up near the fire,” he said, taking her hand.
    “I was standing closer, but the wind kept shifting and blowing smoke in my face. I feared the sparks would catch my cloak on fire. But then again, I’d no longer be cold, would I.”
    “Don’t be such a complainer, Sarah,” said Rebekah. “Adam didn’t come over to listen to you whine.”
    Sarah’s frozen expression altered as her jaw dropped open. “What do you mean?”
    “It’s winter, isn’t it? Of course it’s going to be cold today.” Rebekah smiled sweetly while Sarah frowned at her sister. “Adam, have you tried my sloppy joes? The meat is still warm. I’ll fix you and Sarah each a sandwich.” She scurried off without waiting for a reply.
    “Come with me, dear girl,” said Adam. “Let’s go to the other side of the bonfire, away from the sparks and from the others.” He tugged off her mittens and started rubbing her fingers one at a time. “Hold your hands out to the heat. Is that better?” he asked after a minute, shielding her body from the wind with his.
    “Much better,” she said. “Sorry. Rebekah is right. I am a whiner. Better not ask me out again until April. I’m bound to be in a better mood by then.”
    “It’s freezing out here if you’re just standing around. Didn’t you bring your skates? Will you try out the pond today?” He