“It isn’t me. You’ve been there both times my hats got ruined. You’re bad luck.”
“Amish don’t believe in luck.”
His smile faded, not for any reason Linda could see. “Maybe I don’t want to be Amish.”
Linda didn’t know what to say to that.
Ben fell silent for a full minute, and the only sounds between them were the swish-swish of their snowshoes and Ben’s labored breathing. He may have quit smoking, but he had quit very recently, and he was a long way from being in good physical condition. “Do you want to be baptized?” he finally said.
She glanced at him in surprise. It was a deep question she never would have expected from Ben Kiem. “Jah. Of course. When I find a boy I want to marry, someone who is good enough for me.” She nudged him playfully, but he didn’t act as if he’d heard her.
He stared down at the ground. “I don’t know if I want to be baptized.”
Of course he didn’t know. Linda had never met anyone who liked to kick against the pricks more than Ben. “It’s a big decision.”
“I would have thought you wouldn’t want to join with the gmayna. You’d have to give up skiing and snowshoeing, plus swimming and hiking.”
Linda scrunched her lips to one side of her face. “Not really. Your mammi has been baptized. She plays pickleball.”
Ben shook his head. “That’s only because her son is the bishop, and he gives her permission. Dat won’t go so easy on you. Or me. The Ordnung is about tradition and behavior. It’s about what the community thinks is proper and righteous. That’s why I’d have to give up smoking even though it’s not specifically forbidden in the Ordnung.”
“I thought you’d already given up smoking.”
He ignored her attempt to make a joke. “You won’t get to swim. You won’t be allowed to do anything you can’t do in a dress.”
Linda gave Ben a half smile and pointed at his mammi. “As we have seen, there’s a lot more you can do in a dress than you might guess.” She stopped walking and pulled him back. “Don’t think I haven’t pondered on the consequences of my decision. There are some things I know I’ll give up. I’ll trade in my swimsuit for one of those special swim dresses. I might not feel it’s proper to go skiing, but I can’t see how hiking in the mountains and enjoying Gotte’s beautiful creations can be bad. My aendi Edna and onkel Luke paddle all over the lake together in their canoe. My work will be to serve and praise Gotte. What better way to praise Him than to take joy in His world? Gotte wants us to be happy.”
Ben grunted his disagreement. “Nae, He doesn’t. If He wanted us to be happy, why won’t He let us have any fun? Why all the rules?”
Linda pinned Ben with a stern eye. “Is it really that much fun to tip over outhouses and play music so loud you lose your hearing? Is it fun to stand outside in the freezing cold because your mamm won’t let you smoke in the house?”
“It’s more fun than sitting in gmay listening to the minister.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think sitting in gmay is fun, but I find it nourishing.”
“I don’t even know what that means.”
“Faith is my anchor, Ben. Obedience keeps me safe. I yield myself to Gotte’s will, and I am happy.”
He moved away from her, as if an extra foot between them would make him feel better. “Maybe that makes you happy, but don’t judge me for not feeling the same way.”
Ach. He was so touchy. She started walking again because Nanna, Cathy, and Elmer Lee had slowed down so Ben and Linda could catch up, which now meant the three ahead of them were barely moving. “I’m telling you how I feel, Ben. And you’re right. I was judging you when I said that about outhouses and smoking. If that is how you find happiness, I’m not going to try to talk you out of it.”
“Well, that stuff does make me happy,” he said, though he sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than anyone else.
She stifled a smile. Ben was twenty-one? Twenty-two? But still so childish. “Don’t think I’m judging you, but you don’t seem happy.”
He lifted his chin. “I’m wonderful happy.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Linda had nothing else to say about such an obvious lie, so she picked up her pace just to remind him how much better off she was for not smoking. What did she care if Ben Kiem was too stubborn to admit to his own stupidity?
Ben matched her pace even though he sounded like a rattly, raspy diesel engine. “My friends and I like to hang out together. We have fun. We go to movies or have a smoke. Maybe we drive around with some Englisch girls. Wally plays rap music on his boom box. It’s like the rhythm goes right to your bones. We like it when people complain that the music is too loud. It means we’re getting their attention. We talk and laugh, and we don’t pretend to be righteous. Everybody else just pretends to be righteous. They’re so fake.”
Linda couldn’t help but laugh. Who was being fake? “Are you trying to convince me how happy you are? Because it’s not working.”
He pressed his lips into a hard line, and she could see the muscles of his jaw tighten. “Don’t laugh at me.”
She tilted her head so he could see her smile. “I’m sorry. That time I was laughing at you and not with you.” She didn’t get the response she hoped for. His hardened expression didn’t melt one bit. “I’m sorry, Ben. You’re trying to be honest with me, and I’m being insensitive.”
“Jah. You are.”
Ach. She was too plainspoken for her own good. She should never say exactly what she thought. “You’re right. Who am I to judge what is fun and what’s not. Most people think sliding all over the country on a pair of skis is stupid and unnecessary.”
Ben’s lips softened into something that might have passed for a smile. “Snowshoeing is even dumber. It’s cold, and all you do is walk to nowhere in particular.”
“I’ll try not to judge your choices if you don’t judge mine.”
He nodded, lowered his head, and concentrated on his snowshoes. “I’m happy the way I am. Nobody likes me, so I’m not going to waste my time trying to get the gmayna’s approval. They’re all hypocrites anyway. Everybody thinks I’m a good-for-nothing, so nobody expects anything of me, even my parents.”
There was so much pain in the casual way he talked that even Linda, as insensitive and practical as she was, felt like crying. But what could she say? She’d told him she wouldn’t judge, but his heart was clearly hurting. How would it be to feel completely friendless, even with two “best” friends? She tried to smile. “I expect something of you.”
He glanced at her, puzzled and defensive.
She stretched her lips wider across her face. “I expect you to lose our race next week.”
He rolled his eyes. “Don’t count on it. I’m going to win.”
Happy to be back on more comfortable ground, Linda relaxed and her smile felt more genuine. “I shouldn’t give you any advantage, but I’ll bring over some essential oils to help you quit smoking. Then at least it will be a more competitive race.”
He groaned as if he were in pain. “What is it with you and essential oils?”
Ben teased her about essential oils while the five of them walked the rest of the loop around the golf course and ended up back at Cathy’s car. “Is everybody ready for a snack?” Linda said, pulling the backpack off her shoulders.
“Ach, du lieva,” Ben said. “I didn’t even notice you were carrying it. I would have carried it. You should have asked me.”
“Nae. You were huffing and puffing enough as it was.”
“I was not.”
Linda laughed. He seemed offended but was good-natured about it. “Oh, yes, you were. Besides, you had to wear the ancient snowshoes. It was the least I could do.”
Ben started to say something, but a sudden bout of coughing caught hold of him, and he was useless for a full minute.
“What have you got?” Cathy said, taking out her keys and popping her trunk. “I’ve recently gone gluten free. And dairy free.
And sugar free. I’m learning very quickly that freedom isn’t free. It’s expensive.”
Nanna peeled off her gloves. “What do you eat, Cathy?”
“Cabbage and avocadoes. And I can have some nuts but only half a cup a day.”
“Sounds miserable,” Nanna said.
Cathy didn’t look too happy about it either. “It is. Last night for dinner, I fixed cabbage steak with a side of Brussels sprouts. Lon took one look at his plate and went to Dairy Queen.”
Ben held Linda’s backpack while she pulled out the sandwiches she’d made this morning. “I’ve got tuna fish with pickles and without. And potato chips.”
Cathy squinted at Linda’s sandwiches. “What kind of chips?”
“Salt and vinegar.”
Cathy’s face brightened a little. She never really smiled. “Gluten free, dairy free, and sugar free. I’ll take three bags.”
Linda only had four bags of chips, but she didn’t want Cathy to starve. The rest of them would have to settle for tuna fish. And a little bag of peanuts at the bottom of her backpack.
A big, noisy pickup truck rumbled down the road as if it was racing itself. The truck pulled into the parking lot, and the driver honked the horn. Loud. Did they think Linda’s group hadn’t already noticed them?
Ben’s friends Simeon and Wally and some Englisch girl sat in the truck bed grinning like cats and smoking like chimneys. That must have been an unpleasantly cold ride. There were three more Englischers in the cab of the truck. Two girls and a boy. The girl driving looked like a raccoon, with black and white striped hair, thick black eyeliner, and deep purple lipstick smeared across her lips. The windows were closed, but Linda could still hear the pounding bass notes from the music they were playing. They were going to go deaf.
Wally stood up when the truck came to a stop and lifted a case of beer above his head. “Ben, let’s go. Zoe says we can use her hot tub after the movie.”
Ben was just about to take a bite of tuna fish with pickles. He slid the sandwich back into the bag and stuffed it into Linda’s backpack as if he’d been caught stealing. “Okay. I’m coming.” He glanced at Linda, a bright flush of red overspreading his face. At least he knew enough to be embarrassed.
Nanna frowned. “We were having such a nice time.”
“We’re just going to a movie,” Ben said, without lifting his eyes to his mammi’s face.
Linda’s heart sank to her toes. Hot tub and movies and beer. How fun. And Ben liked to have fun.
She shouldn’t judge, but no matter how happy he protested to be, Ben needed better friends. And maybe a swift kick in the hinnerdale. She looked the other way and took a bite of her sandwich. Why she even cared was a mystery.
Ben handed Linda the backpack, quickly loosened the ropes around his boots, and stepped out of his snowshoes. He opened Cathy’s trunk and set them inside. He couldn’t look Nanna in the eye, but he motioned toward her feet. “Here, Mammi, let me help you take those off before I go.”
“No need,” Nanna said. “You go along. Have a nice time.”
“It’s just a movie, Mammi.”
“Of course.” Nanna gave him an uncertain, reassuring smile.
Ben wasn’t comfortable, but Linda didn’t see as that was anyone’s fault but his own. He paused and half-smiled at Linda. “Denki for taking me snowshoeing.”
The look he gave her sort of melted her heart. Ben was an idiot, but he was nice about being an idiot. “You’re welcome. I expect you to be ready for our race next week.”
The Englisch girl honked the horn. Was she trying to break everybody’s eardrums?
Ben glanced behind him. “Maybe we should just forget about the race.” He jogged to the truck and climbed in the back.
Cathy opened her first bag of chips. “That boy could use fewer good looks and more brains. Why are the good-looking ones often the most stupid?”
Why indeed.
Before Ben could secure himself in the truck bed, the raccoon driver gunned the engine and made a loop around the parking lot to get herself going in the right direction. Ben’s hat caught the sudden rush of wind, flew off his head, and fell to the ground. The truck’s front wheel ran over it on the way out.
Laughter exploded from Linda’s mouth. Ach, du lieva. There went another hat, flattened like a pancake.
Ben was always good for a laugh.
Chapter Seven
Ben paced back and forth in Esther’s kitchen, unable to sit, unable to concentrate on anything but the overpowering need for a cigarette and the overpowering urge to dump a pile of snow over Linda Eicher’s head. Why had he ever let her talk him into giving up smoking?
Esther sat at the table feeding Winnie spoonfuls of soup while Winnie fed herself bits of peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Seven or eight quilting clips were clamped to the bodice of Esther’s apron, and she wore a drink packet behind her ear, one of those long, narrow, single-serve packets that people used to flavor their water. Ben was never sure what Esther was going to wear behind her ear, but he always noticed. “Would you like something to eat?” Esther said. “There’s plenty of soup.”
Ben halted temporarily as a fit of coughing overtook him. Why was he coughing more now that he wasn’t smoking than he did when he was smoking? “I’m bothering you. I’m sorry.”
“You’re no bother. And if you wear a furrow in my floor, Levi knows how to fix it.” She smiled at him. “You could fix it yourself, I guess.”
That was one thing he liked about Esther. She noticed things. Levi and Ben both helped Dat with the remodeling business, but Levi was the older one, the more responsible and capable one, and people usually ignored Ben in favor of Levi. Ben knew how to do everything Levi did, but Dat and everybody else had more confidence in Levi. He couldn’t blame them. Levi was just better at everything than Ben would ever be. Still, it was nice of Esther to acknowledge that maybe he had some floor-laying skills. “I didn’t know where else to go. Dat and I finished at the shop, but if I go home, Mamm makes me do jobs. I don’t want to do anything but eat and smoke.”
“My mamm used to do that too. If I had any time to myself, she thought I must be bored. She didn’t want me to sit idle, so she always found a job for me to do. I wiped a lot of walls as a child.”
“Exactly,” Ben said. “Mamm makes me wash windows. And it’s cold out there.” He paced another line in the kitchen. “Have you got something besides soup? Something sweet?”
Esther frowned, stood up, and rummaged through her cupboards. “Ach. Tomorrow is shopping day. I don’t have hardly anything. I’ve got some old candy corns.” She pulled a bag from the shelf. “They’re hard as rocks, but if you suck on them, they’ll soften up.”
“I’ll take them.” Beggars could not be choosers, especially beggars who were trying to quit smoking with white-knuckled determination.
With her eyes full of sympathy, Esther handed him the half-eaten bag of candy corns. “The first couple of weeks are the hardest. My sister Ivy got the shakes and these terrible headaches. Of course, Ivy is a complainer, so I don’t know how bad it really got with her and how much was just her making sure I knew how bad it was.”
“Ach, for sure and certain, it was bad.” Ben stuck three candy corns in his mouth and pressed his teeth into them as far as they would go. It wasn’t far.
Esther grabbed a glass from the dish rack and filled it with water. “Here. Stay hydrated. I’m very proud of you for quitting cigarettes.”
“You don’t have to say that.” Ben took a gulp of water. There was nothing to be proud of. He was doing this so he could beat Linda in a snowshoe race, and also maybe to prove to her that he wasn’t as stupid as she thought he was. She wasn’t going to have a reason to laugh at him ever again.
Besides, this smoking thing was nothing for Esther or his parents to get their hopes up about. He’d probably go back to smoking as soon as the race was over. He never succeeded in anything, and his parents certainly didn’t expect much of him. They’d be astonishe
d if he was able to quit altogether, but not surprised if he started smoking again tomorrow. That was just how they saw him. They were already disappointed in him, and he’d stopped trying to gain their approval years ago. There was nothing he could do to change their minds about him.
Esther was sweet, and she acted like she loved him no matter what, but she was only saying she was proud of him because there was nothing else she could say. In the end, he’d only disappoint her too.
Esther sat back down, picked up the spoon, and immediately set it down again. “Ach. I could make you some lemonade.” She stood up and pulled the flavor packet from behind her ear. “I’ve got mix.”
“Nae, nae. Sit down. I’m okay.”
“But it’s right here,” she said, showing him the yellow packet.
He shook his head. He didn’t want her to go to any trouble, and it would hurt her feelings to know it wasn’t especially appetizing to think of drinking something that came out of a packet that had been sitting behind her ear for who knew how long.
They heard the front door open and footsteps down the hall. Linda Eicher and that old Cathy lady walked into the kitchen. Linda’s gaze immediately fell on Ben, which he knew because his gaze immediately fell on her. It was annoying that he found her so interesting, annoying that he cared what she thought about him. Well . . . he didn’t really care what she thought about him, but she sure knew how to make him madder than a wet hen. And was she aware that lavender was a wonderful-gute color on her?
She smiled as if she wasn’t mad at him for running out on her snowshoe outing, as if she didn’t care that he’d gotten into a truck with some Englisch kids. She smiled as if she was his friend. But he wouldn’t be fooled.
Cathy wore a bright yellow pantsuit and a necklace of round orange beads. She definitely wouldn’t be missed in a crowd. “We let ourselves in,” she said. “It’s cold out there, and the cold isn’t good for my asthma.” She pulled out a chair from the table and sat down. “Besides, what is that quote about friends who come in without knocking? Something about they’re the best kind of friends in the world?”
The Amish Quiltmaker's Unruly In-Law Page 9