“I’m thinking maybe I should start exercising or something. My onkel Perry had a heart attack last year.”
Wally glared at Ben, his cigarette hanging from his lips. “He’s an old man. Smoking doesn’t do nobody no harm.”
Simeon lit the cigarette he’d offered to Ben and took a long drag. “You won’t be any fun if you don’t smoke.”
Was that all it took to be considered fun with these two? Maybe he needed different friends.
Who was he kidding? Nobody but Wally and Simeon wanted to be his friend. They always stuck by him. He didn’t need different friends. He was better off without those self-righteous types anyway.
“I’m not going to quit for very long,” Ben said, modifying his plan just a bit. “But I need to quit for a couple of weeks to get in shape.”
Simeon grunted in disgust. “Just so you can go snowshoeing with Linda Eicher? Who cares about her? Tell her you changed your mind.”
Ben hesitated. Did he want to change his mind? He obviously hadn’t been thinking straight when he’d scheduled another snowshoe outing with Linda. It had been miserable enough the first time—well, not completely miserable. The view had been nice and the sandwich was good and he’d discovered that Linda’s eyes were the color of cornflowers. Still it was crazy of him to volunteer to do that again. He still felt the sharp pain in his lungs and the burning ache in his leg.
But Linda had challenged his manhood, more or less, and he wasn’t about to lose to a girl. She wasn’t going to poke fun or laugh at him ever again. But if he had any chance of beating Linda up the mountain, he had to be able to breathe. And that meant no smoking. He could pick up smoking again in a week or two.
He pulled out yet another piece of gum and chewed it until his jaw ached. Why had he let Linda get under his skin? She was snobby and hard-hearted and obnoxious. And she said exactly what she thought right out loud.
She also seemed very comfortable in her own skin, as if nothing bothered her or made her sad. As if she liked herself and was happy just being alive. Ben didn’t know if he was envious or skeptical. Her life seemed too good to be true. How could anybody walk around being that happy? Was she pretending? Didn’t she have any problems? Of course, Ben had more problems than anybody, so everyone was happier than he was, but still, Linda should at least show some sensitivity to people less fortunate than she was.
Like Ben.
She had no sympathy because she’d never had a bad thing happen to her ever. And she had no sympathy for Ben because she hated the very ground he walked on.
Or . . . at least . . . maybe that was true.
She’d smiled at him, and not just when she was making fun of him either. She smiled when he ate her sandwich. She smiled when he wiped the blood from her face. She smiled when he helped her take off her snowshoes. His heart beat a little faster thinking about her soft skin and the delight in her face when she looked out over the valley.
Maybe she didn’t hate him.
But she didn’t like him either. He’d warned her not to try to change him, and then she’d come right out and said that changing him would be impossible, like she’d already decided he was a lost cause. Well, she could get in line. Everyone thought Ben was a lost cause, even Esther and Levi. Even Mamm and Dat. Even Wally. It probably didn’t count with Wally because Ben thought Wally was a lost cause too. At least they understood each other.
Wally, Simeon, and Ben stood just inside the pasture gate behind Mr. Bateman’s barn. It was the halfway point between Wally’s house and Ben’s, and Mr. Bateman’s field was lying fallow this year so there weren’t any crops to trample. Last year, the three of them cut across Mrs. Leavey’s hay field, and Mrs. Leavey accused them of trampling her crop when they’d only stepped on a few measly stalks that were so dry they were bound to die anyway.
The year before that, they’d gotten in trouble for riding a farmer’s water-wheel sprinklers. All three of them had ridden the sprinklers. Ben was the only one who had gotten in trouble. Ray Sarle owned one of those giant center-pivot irrigation systems on wheels that went around in a huge circle, automatically watering the field with sprinklers mounted on the top. The contraption even had footholds for climbing. If people weren’t supposed to ride them, there shouldn’t have been a way to climb them. The three of them had straddled the sprinklers like cowboys on horses, which had been awkward at best. They had whooped and hollered and waved their hats in the air while getting soaking wet. They had pretended riding a sprinkler was more fun than it really was. That thing went so slow, it was just about as exciting as riding home from church in Dawdi David’s buggy.
Ben pressed his lips together. What was the fun of standing out in a field smoking a pack of cigarettes or riding a sprinkler traveling three miles an hour?
Levi asked Ben that question every time Ben got in trouble with Dat. But the fun wasn’t in riding sprinklers or cutting through someone’s field. The fun was in doing something you weren’t allowed to do. The fun was the feeling that you might get caught at any moment. The fun was seeing if you could get away with something you weren’t supposed to be doing, pulling the wool over Dat’s eyes and making him so frustrated he didn’t know what to do with you. That was power. That was the fun.
Except the sprinkler ride hadn’t been so fun. It had been painful and humiliating, like most of Ben’s recent adventures. Riding that sprinkler, Ben had gotten overconfident and slipped off the pole, falling nine feet to the ground and separating his shoulder. Wally and Simeon climbed down to help him just as Mr. Sarle had come at them with his four-wheeler and a shovel. Ben had been forced to run, even with the wind knocked out of him and his shoulder on fire. Wally and Simeon got away, but Ray Sarle had hauled Ben into his house and called Dat on his business phone. Dat wouldn’t let Ben sleep in the house until Ben had made it right with Mr. Sarle, which meant he worked his farm for a whole week after his shoulder healed. That was a lot of nights sleeping in the barn for a dumm sprinkler ride. Linda was right. How stupid could one boy be?
Still, Wally and Simeon were his only friends, and he wanted to make them happy. He wanted to fit in. And not sharing a smoke with his two best friends wasn’t going to help the relationship.
Ben hated to admit his failure at snowshoeing, but Simeon might understand why he needed to quit smoking. “Linda laughed at me. She practically dared me to race her up that hill. What else can I do? I can’t let her beat me again, and I can’t beat her if I can’t breathe.” And maybe he wanted to impress her just a little. Maybe she wouldn’t think he was so dumm if he sped up that hill like a racehorse. “It’s just for a week. We’re going snowshoeing on Saturday while the snow it still good.”
Simeon shrugged, threw his spent cigarette on the ground, and stamped it out with his boot. “I guess. But don’t go healthy on us. Healthy people always look down on the smokers, as if we’re dirt or something. As if this wasn’t a free country.”
They never talked about what they would do about smoking if they got baptized. The Ordnung didn’t exactly prohibit smoking, but most of the rules were understood behavior even though they weren’t written down. Ben drew his brows together. Did he want to get baptized? Would that make Mamm and Dat love him? Or would they be happier if he left home and never came back?
Wally turned on his boom box and cranked it up loud. It was his way of making sure everyone knew he didn’t care what anyone thought. He didn’t care if the Batemans were bothered by the noise. He didn’t care if they complained. Wally’s boom box was a dare he waved in front of Englisch and Amish alike. Kick up a fuss if you dare. Threaten me if you dare. I will make you mad at how much I don’t care.
Wally puffed his cigarette and leaned closer to Ben. “If I were you, I’d forget about Linda Eicher,” he said, yelling to make himself heard over the music coming from his boom box. “Who cares if she wants to race again? She’s just trying to get under your skin. Besides, I met this Englisch girl at Dairy Queen who said she’d take us to the drive-in on Saturd
ay.”
Simeon squinted in Wally’s direction. “Who’s paying?”
“We can all pitch in some.”
“Might be fun,” Simeon said. He looked at Ben. “More fun than snowshoeing.”
“I guess,” Ben said. He didn’t really want to go snowshoeing with Linda anyway, did he? “But for sure and certain it will be cold. Is the drive-in even open yet? Maybe I could go snowshoeing and then come to the movie.”
Wally grunted in derision. “I guess. But why would you want to? I don’t get you.”
Ben didn’t get it either, but snowshoeing with pretty Linda Eicher sounded much better than being crammed in the back of some Englisch girl’s car at a boring drive-in movie. But Wally would be irritated if Ben disagreed with him. “Okay,” Ben said. Wally could take that answer any way he wanted, and Ben wouldn’t have to commit to anything yet. Maybe he’d go to the movie. Maybe he wouldn’t. But for sure and certain, he was going to go snowshoeing with Linda Eicher.
Suddenly a sharp knife of frigid water hit him on the back of the head. He raised his hands in front of his face and turned around. Mr. Bateman, the farmer whose field they were standing in, was holding a hose with a brass nozzle on the end of it, and a hard, powerful stream of water shot through the nozzle. The water hitting Ben in the face and chest felt as if Mr. Bateman was hurling baseballs at him. Ben bent over and cradled his head between his arms. He’d rather not lose an eye.
Mr. Bateman turned the hose on Wally next and sprayed the cigarette right out of his fingers. Wally turned his head to keep from getting shot in the face. “Run!” he yelled.
Ben grabbed Wally’s boom box, and the three of them took off across Batemans’ field.
“That’ll teach you to smoke on my property,” Mr. Bateman yelled when they were out of reach of the stream of water.
While still on the run, Wally grabbed his boom box from Ben. Water dripped off of it, and one of the speakers was crooked. It had stopped playing. Wally turned back and scowled at Mr. Bateman. “I hate you,” he yelled. “You’ll be sorry.”
“Stay off my property,” Mr. Bateman yelled back. “Or you’ll be the one who’s sorry.”
Wally stopped in his tracks, glaring in Mr. Bateman’s direction. “We’ll see about that.”
Chapter Six
Cathy Larsen nearly missed Ben’s road, slammed on her brakes, and turned her steering wheel hard to the right. Linda held tightly to the convenient handle just above the window, but Elmer Lee slid all the way across the seat in back.
Cathy glanced back at Elmer Lee, who at that moment decided to put on his seat belt. “You’re a victim of centrifugal force, Elmer Lee,” she said. “Always take it seriously.”
Linda giggled, even though she had no idea what Cathy was talking about. Cathy had a way of saying things that made them sound like she was scolding you, even when she was talking about the weather.
Cathy weaved down the road as if looking for Ben’s house, but Linda knew for a fact that Cathy had been to Ben’s house several times and knew exactly where it was. “The doctor says I need cataract surgery, but he really just wants to take my money. My eyes are good for at least another year. That doctor is so young, he doesn’t even have to shave yet. What does he know?”
The need for cataract surgery explained the erratic driving. Linda tried not to think about it. If she was supposed to die in a car accident, there was nothing Cathy or anybody else could do to prevent it. Lord willing, she would live many more years, but Gotte was in charge, and she wasn’t going to worry about it.
The car jerked to a stop in front of Ben’s house. “Denki for driving today,” Linda said, opening the door. “I’ll fetch Ben.”
“Don’t lollygag or dilly-dally,” Cathy said. “I don’t have all day to wait.”
Would Ben’s dat think it was strange that an Amish girl dressed in Englisch winter clothing was coming to pick Ben up for a snowshoeing adventure? Linda smiled to herself. It did sound strange, but Ben’s dat was unlikely to object when Linda was probably the most well-behaved person Ben hung out with. And by “hung out with” she meant Ben had broken her buggy taillight and gone snowshoeing with her once. Was it proper for the girl to be the one picking up the boy? Ach, vell, it couldn’t be helped. Linda had invited Ben snowshoeing, and if she actually wanted him to show up, she’d have to go to him. It was highly likely he’d back out on her anyway.
Ben answered the door, looking like he was ready for snowshoeing. He wore his coat and snow pants and carried a pair of gloves in his hand. He had a tentative, almost regretful smile on his face. She liked that smile. He was so much better looking when he wore it. “Ach, Linda. I’m sorry. I can’t come.”
Having expected an excuse, she wasn’t quite sure why disappointment knotted her stomach. She shot him a teasing grin to cover any irritation he might see in her face. “Ach, don’t tell me you’ve chickened out. I brought Elmer Lee along to help lift you out of all the holes you’re going to fall in.”
He smiled. That kind of talk usually annoyed him. Okay. This was progress. “I wasn’t planning on falling in any holes. In fact, I was planning on passing you so fast on the trail that my wake would blow the bonnet off your head.”
She snorted. “As if that would ever happen.”
Nanna Kiem, Ben’s mammi, came to the door and stood beside Ben. Nanna always smiled like she meant it, like there was no use smiling partway when a smile that showed all your teeth was better. Nanna had chin-length, salt-and-pepper hair that looked strange down like that under a kapp. Nanna had lost all her hair to cancer last year, and it hadn’t grown back enough to pin up into a bun. “Linda Eicher. Vie gehts? Esther said something about you the other day.”
“Esther?”
Her eyes twinkling merrily, Nanna waved her hand as if swatting a fly. “Ach, never mind. Did you come to talk to Ben? We were just going out.”
“Mammi asked me to drive her into town,” Ben said. The look of affection in his eyes was unmistakable. Apparently there was someone else in addition to Esther whom he cared about very much. Linda found his fondness very sweet.
Nanna hooked her hand around Ben’s elbow and pulled Ben toward her. “Ben is so good to me. I don’t like to drive the buggy or run errands by myself. If I didn’t have such a gute grandson, I don’t know what I’d do.”
Linda certainly wasn’t going to get in the way of Ben doing something nice for his mammi. And it was nice, even if he was just using it as an excuse to get out of snowshoeing.
Nanna’s gaze traveled from Ben to Linda and back again. “Well then, I will go get my bonnet and my coat while you two have a nice long visit.”
Linda didn’t know how long of a visit they could have in the time it took for Nanna to get her coat, but it was just as well. There wasn’t really that much to say.
“I’m sorry,” Ben said. “I really was looking forward to running circles around you today. I stopped smoking and everything.”
Linda stared at him. “You stopped smoking?” For her? Well, not specifically for her but definitely because of her. A little warm spot grew right in the middle of her chest.
“Just for a week.”
“That won’t do any good. A week hardly gives your lungs a chance to clear out. You’ve got to stick with it for at least a month.” Linda didn’t even know if that was true, but if she said six months, he might just give up.
The combination of alarm and irritation in his expression made Linda want to laugh. “A month?” he said. “It’s been seven days, and I can’t stop shaking.” He held out his hand so she could take a look.
“I don’t see any shaking. Maybe you’re getting better.”
“That’s easy for you to say. You weren’t throwing up all week. Nothing but the thought of beating you to the top kept me going.”
That was sweet in an awkward sort of way. “Well, what did you expect? You’ve been abusing your lungs for years.”
He leaned against the doorjamb. “Denki for the sympat
hy.”
She smiled and rolled her eyes. “I’m not good at sympathy.”
“I hadn’t noticed.”
He had gotten himself into this mess, but she’d already mentioned that a few times. For sure and certain he didn’t want to hear it again. “I’m sure there’s an essential oil for tobacco addiction. I’ll ask my mamm.”
“Sounds like a bunch of nonsense to me.”
She didn’t take it personally that he was unconvinced. “Doubt is not a destination. You should try some essential oils and find out for yourself. They work if you believe in them. Kind of like faith.”
It was his turn to roll his eyes. “And now you’re going to give me a sermon.”
She giggled and backed away, holding her hands palms up. “No sermons. It’s no skin off my teeth if you choose not to believe.”
“Denki. I’d be grateful if you didn’t try to convince me.” He smiled slightly, as if he didn’t really think she was a huge bother. “Your cheek looks better. I can’t even tell where you got scratched.”
Linda felt her face get warm. She wasn’t exactly sure why, except Ben’s gaze seemed to pierce right through her skull, as if he was looking at something deeper than her face. “It’s myrrh.”
“What was that?”
“Myrrh and tea tree essential oils. They’re wonderful gute for wounds.”
He threw back his head and laughed. Linda smiled in spite of herself. There was a certain amount of satisfaction in making someone as gloomy as Ben Kiem laugh.
Nanna Kiem reappeared at the door with her black bonnet and the bag of fabric scraps she always carried. “I hate to cut your conversation short. Why don’t you come with us, Linda? I’m going to the fabric store.”
Linda pointed her thumb in the direction of Cathy’s car. “Denki, but we’re going snowshoeing while there’s still some snow left.”
Nanna stuck her head out the door and frowned. “I didn’t even notice the car there. Is Cathy driving you?”
The Amish Quiltmaker's Unruly In-Law Page 7