Free Sleigh of Hope by Wendy Lindstrom

to play together.
    His aunt put her arm around him. “Would you like some hot cider, Adam?”
    He shook his head. “No thank you, Aunt Tansy. Would you mind if Cora stays with Benny while Leo and I do some work at the greenhouse.”
    “That would be wonderful, honey. You boys go ahead. Leave these little scamps with me.”
    He waited to see if Leo would bow out, but he headed to the foyer, took his new jacket off a hook, and pulled it on.
    “I’ll be home by supper,” he said to Tansy.
    She plucked his knit hat off another hook and handed it to him with such a warm, motherly smile it made him flush. “Don’t forget your hat, dahlin’. You’ll need this to keep your ears warm.”
    “Thank you, ma’am.” Throwing a guarded look at Adam, he tugged his hat over his ears, opened the door and said, “Let’s go.”
    Outside, Adam fought a grin.
    “Shut up,” Leo said, his scowl daring Adam to tease him about Tansy’s fawning.
    Yesterday Adam would have been unmerciful. Today, though, there was nothing funny about the break in their friendship.
    He released a hard sigh as they headed to the greenhouse. “I’m sorry about yesterday.”
    Leo nodded, but walked beside him, silent and unyielding.
    “What I said... it was... I didn’t think before I opened my big mouth.”
    The thud of Leo’s footfalls was his only response.
    “If you’re so mad, why don’t you just punch my stupid, unthinking skull,” Adam said, feeling he deserved it. Getting slugged would be less painful than Leo’s silence.
    Leo kept walking, his big fists jammed deep in his jacket pockets.
    Adam grabbed his sleeve and jerked him to a stop. “Will you at least talk to me?”
    “What do you want me to say?”
    “That you accept my apology.”
    Leo shrugged him off and took a step back. “Apology accepted.”
    For several seconds they stared at each other as if waiting for the other to speak.
    Finally, Adam broke the strained silence. “I’m sorry. I wish I could take back what I said.”
    Leo frowned and wiped his nose. “It’s all right. Let’s forget it and go get those blocks made.”
    It obviously wasn’t all right, but Adam followed along, wondering what else he could say to fix things.
    ***
    All week after school Adam and Leo worked shoulder-to-shoulder sawing and sanding slabs into various sized blocks. Tansy was watching Cora each day while Faith worked in the greenhouse and helped Anna and the Grayson women with their quilting projects.
    Each evening Adam would walk home with Leo to fetch Cora, but they didn’t talk much.
    By Friday evening they had created a small mountain of finished blocks together, but without any of the fun banter they once shared.
    “Are you ready to work at the mill tomorrow?” Adam asked on their way to Leo’s new home.
    “Sure,” he said.
    “I’ll try not to let you get yourself killed tomorrow,” Adam joked, knowing Leo’s concern with the ever present danger of working around saws and timber.
    A half-smile lifted Leo’s mouth, but there was no laughter in his eyes.
    In that moment Adam knew he had broken what might have been a lifelong friendship.
    He had been unforgivably selfish. He knew how it felt to be desperate, to be grateful for any scrap of kindness, but now when it was his turn to lend the helping hand, he’d pushed Leo and Benny away. That truth ate a hole in his gut.
    He wasn’t worthy of the Grayson name.
    He wasn’t worthy of Leo’s friendship.
    So much for Peace on Earth and goodwill to men. He hadn’t promoted either.
    Heartsick, he walked beside Leo, feeling empty.
    On his way back home, Cora filled his ears with her childish blabbing, which he usually found funny, but there was no laughter inside him. The sound of buzzing saws filled them the next day at the mill, but nothing filled Adam’s heart.
    At noon on Saturday, he boarded one of three wagons piled high with lumber. For the next six days, except Sunday, the mill would operate with only two men so the rest