Huckleberry Spring

by Jennifer Beckstrand

  “Especially with me. I’m probably the first girl ever to burn down a chicken coop and lose her shoes in Cobbler Pond on the same day.”

  “The chicken coop needed to come down. It listed badly to one side.”

  “I never liked those shoes,” she said.

  “And if you hadn’t lost them in the pond, they might have been destroyed in the fire.”

  She motioned toward the massive oak where Mahlon and Lizzie were engaged in a heated conversation. “Maybe I should go pull those two apart before they start throwing rocks at each other.”

  “They seem to be enjoying themselves.”

  Emma’s eyes flashed, and she cocked her head to the side. “I never thought of that before.”

  He grinned. “Me either.”

  He shouldn’t have been standing there staring at her, but he couldn’t make himself walk away. Besides, if a stray volleyball came hurtling through the air, he’d be able to stop it before it hit her in the head and split her stitches open.

  Freeman, who had disappeared with the rest of his gang when Mahlon had started fussing, marched resolutely across the lawn to Ben and Emma. He must have thought the danger was over.

  “We’re going to do some singing in a minute,” he said, “if you want to join us.”

  Emma glanced at Ben. “Sure. I will come over.”

  Ben just needed to get Freeman alone for a minute, and he’d be all set. He was about to ask Freeman if he could speak with him privately when Freeman blurted out, “And Emma, it wonders me if I could drive you home tonight.”

  Perfect. He hadn’t even had to ask. Freeman was already interested in his fiancée. Ex-fiancée. This was very good news.

  Then why did the blood in his veins feel as thick as peanut butter?

  Maybe Freeman wasn’t such a suitable boy for Emma after all. He was young. How would he ever watch over her properly? He had all those woodworking tools in his shop. Emma might cut off an arm or something if she were ever to set foot in there. Freeman would never do.

  But what could he say without being extremely rude? He could volunteer to give Emma a ride home himself, but that would defeat the purpose of showing everyone that they were over each other.

  Freeman must have felt like he needed to convince her. “I just installed a new heater in my buggy, although I won’t need to use it until wintertime. And brand-new headlights to make it extra safe.”

  Ben almost protested. Brand-new headlights weren’t all that safe if the person steering the buggy drove carelessly on the roads.

  Freeman turned to Ben. “You don’t mind, do you?”

  His hands were tied. Unless he wanted everyone to believe that he still loved Emma, he’d have to let her go with Freeman, who had headlights but probably didn’t have proper reflectors on the back. Maybe Ben should follow them home to make sure they didn’t have any mishaps along the way.

  Instead, he bowed gallantly, which considering how stiff he felt was quite a feat. “It’s not my place to mind. Emma and I mean nothing to each other.”

  Emma’s smile stretched across her face as if it had been pulled tight and stapled there. Her face drained of color. Only then did Ben realize what he had said. He wanted to smack himself upside the head.

  He didn’t really mean the “nothing” part. Emma meant everything to him and always would. He meant that he wanted to be nothing to her but a memory. Likely, all Emma had heard was “You mean nothing to me,” and she looked as if she might melt into a puddle of tears any second.

  The words he wanted to say stuck in his throat in an attempt to get them all out at once. “I mean . . . we used to be . . . Emma’s so good at gardening, and she’s helping my mammi. We’re good friends.” He couldn’t have sounded more ridiculous if he had planned it. It was plain that every word sliced Emma to the core.

  With that smile firmly in place, she nodded at Freeman. “I’d like for you to drive me home tonight. I made cookies.” She walked away with Freeman, seeming to hang on his every word, and didn’t give Ben a second look.

  He felt as low as a snake in the cellar. He’d hurt Emma’s feelings once again and let her go off with someone who had absolutely no idea how to take care of her.

  He couldn’t do anything to repair Emma’s feelings now. Growling, he marched to the front yard to see if he could locate Freeman’s buggy with the brand-new headlights.

  If Freeman didn’t carry a first aid kit in his buggy at all times, he couldn’t be trusted to take Emma home.

  Chapter 8

  Emma plopped herself into the overstuffed chair in her living room. “See? I can’t match a corner to save my life.”

  “You’re not patient enough,” Mamm called from the kitchen.

  Ever since Emma and Lizzie had renewed their friendship, Mamm hovered within earshot of every conversation, clearly trying to make sure not a word about Ben was spoken between them. Her strategy worked. Lizzie and Emma never mentioned Ben’s name between them unless they were in Emma’s bedroom with the door closed and towels stuffed into the crack under the door.

  Mamm had practically popped a blood vessel in her neck when she found out Ben had returned from Florida, until Mahlon had persuaded her that Emma would get over Ben faster if she saw him more often. Convincing Mamm had been quite an accomplishment, especially since Mahlon didn’t believe it himself, but he knew how determined Emma was to keep her promise to Anna and how hard it was to bear Mamm’s scolding.

  Lizzie fingered the seams of Emma’s latest quilt square, squinting in concentration. “This really isn’t that bad. I’m just going to unpick it right here and tuck the fabric in a bit on this side, and no one will ever be able to tell the difference.” She pulled her seam ripper from the sewing basket. “Log Cabin squares are hard.”

  “Give me the Bear Claw next time.”

  “Even harder.”

  Emma sighed. “Maybe I could sit on this chair and watch while you make the quilt.”

  Lizzie carefully separated the seam that needed to be fixed. “You’re fine, Emma. You can do the Nine Patch.”

  “Too many corners.”

  They heard the back door close as Mahlon and Andy strolled into the room with indecently large bowls of ice cream.

  Emma tilted her head to peek into the kitchen. “Did Mamm send you in to spy on us?”

  Mahlon grinned. “She had to get the laundry off the line and wanted us to make sure that you two didn’t talk about any forbidden subjects.”

  Emma smirked. “She bribed you with ice cream?”

  “Did you save any for the rest of us?” Lizzie asked.

  Mahlon licked his spoon. “None for you, Tizzy.”

  “Mamm bought a whole tub of ice cream,” Andy said between bites. “And butterscotch topping.”

  Emma smoothed her hand over one of Lizzie’s perfectly shaped quilt squares. “Well, Andy, show some manners and fetch Lizzie a bowl of ice cream.”

  “No, thanks. I don’t want to get the fabric dirty. Besides, I’m not going to be here much longer. Emma has a date,” Lizzie said, her voice ripe with resentment.

  Mahlon looked as if he’d choked on three scoops of ice cream. “You have a date?”

  Emma felt her face get hot with both embarrassment and guilt. She should never have accepted the invitation, even if Mamm encouraged it. It wasn’t fair to Freeman. “We’re going to Shawano Lake overlook. Just for a ride.”

  Mahlon raised his eyebrows. “It’s about time boys took notice. You two are the prettiest girls in Bonduel.” His mouth twitched as if he hadn’t meant to share that piece of information. “I mean, Lizzie would be pretty if she weren’t so contrary.”

  Lizzie probably blushed all the way to her toes. “I am not contrary.”

  “Jah, you are.”

  “I’m only contrary with you, Mahlon Nelson. You shoot off your mouth when you shouldn’t, and you’re wrong about everything. Somebody needs to save you from making a fool of yourself. I’ve taken on that heavy responsibility.”
>
  “Nobody asked you to,” Mahlon said, trying not to smile.

  “I know. That’s what makes me such a charitable person.”

  Andy stirred his melting ice cream. “Who’s your date with?”

  Mahlon snapped his head around to stare at Emma. “That was a gute trick to get Lizzie to distract me.”

  “I did no such thing.”

  Mahlon gave Lizzie a fleeting glance before turning his full attention to Emma. “Why didn’t you tell me about this new boyfriend?”

  “He’s not her boyfriend,” Lizzie insisted.

  Mahlon frowned. “Maybe he is. The old boyfriend isn’t hanging around much anymore.”

  Emma hadn’t expected the hurt that flashed in Lizzie’s eyes. Of course she still held out hope for Ben, but Emma hadn’t recognized how fervent that hope was until now. They hadn’t talked about it much.

  Mahlon studied Lizzie’s face, and his frown deepened. “Freeman is a gute boy. He’ll own his dat’s harness shop one day. And he has a nice family,” he said, with much less swagger than he normally showed around Lizzie.

  “He’s too tall,” Lizzie murmured.

  “He’s shorter than Ben.”

  “He’s too short,” Lizzie replied.

  Mahlon’s eyes strayed to Lizzie once again before he said, “This is good news, Emma. It’s about time you moved on with your life.”

  Lizzie stood up and slammed the quilt square and seam ripper on the end table. “No, it isn’t, Mahlon. You don’t know anything. Anything.”

  The fight leaped into Mahlon’s eyes. “I know that Emma has been miserable for months because of your brother.” He put his bowl down and threw his hands up. “Admit it, Lizzie. This is all Ben’s fault.”

  She matched his fire with a blaze of her own. “You don’t know my brother like I do. Something is wrong, and I’m going to find out what it is.”

  That sinking feeling in the pit of Emma’s stomach kept sinking. Did she have to catalog her faults for Lizzie? Why did Lizzie find the truth so hard to accept?

  Lizzie folded her arms and stared down Mahlon, all six feet of him. “You and I are going to get Ben and Emma back together.”

  Mahlon’s voice rose about seven pitches. “Me? You want me to push them back together so he can break her heart all over again? I won’t do it. Let your brother go back to Florida and leave well enough alone.”

  Emma tried to disappear into the folds of the extremely comfortable overstuffed chair. They talked about her as if she weren’t even in the room, as if she were a broken wheelbarrow that could be fixed if only they thought hard enough. Didn’t they see she couldn’t be fixed? She wanted to be with Ben so badly that she had to pinch herself to keep from crying out.

  She relinquished her comfy chair as her distress helped her find her voice. “I’m standing right here. If you want to discuss my life, argue with me instead of each other. Freeman asked if I’d go to the lake with him. I told him yes. That’s all. I’m sorry to disappoint you, Mahlon, but he is not my boyfriend, and I plan on telling him I don’t want to go out again. I’m not . . . He’s not . . .”

  “He’s not Ben,” Lizzie said softly, as if speaking louder would cause Mahlon to erupt.

  Instead of jumping down Lizzie’s throat, Mahlon deflated. He put his arms around Emma and actually spoke to Lizzie without scowling. “Do you see why I’m so firm about this? You’re not doing her any favors by fanning hopes that are better left to die. You’re making things worse. Much worse.” He glanced toward the kitchen. “Besides, Mamm would never let you near Emma again if she heard such talk.”

  Squaring her shoulders, Emma pushed Mahlon away with an overdramatic shove and a halfhearted grin. “You’re still talking about me like I’m not here.” She lightly shoved Mahlon again for good measure. “I’m stronger than you know”—she motioned toward Lizzie—“and smarter than you think. Too smart to believe for one minute that Ben wants me. He doesn’t. And I’m going to get over it. But not now. Not while Ben is in Bonduel, being so kind and looking so handsome.” She took a deep breath. “There. I said it. I still love him.”

  The embers in Mahlon’s eyes flared to life.

  With her frown, she warned him to be still. “I’m going to be okay.”

  Lizzie bit her lip, no doubt to keep from arguing with either of them.

  Emma glanced at Andy, who sat eating his ice cream, seemingly oblivious to the tension hanging in the air. Either that or he was a better spy than Emma could have guessed. “Andy, it looks like you’re out of topping. Why don’t you go get some more?”

  Andy stuffed another bite into his mouth. “Okay,” he said. He headed toward the kitchen. “I liked Ben a lot. He played baseball with me and Lisa. I hope you get him back.”

  Emma threw up her hands and shot a helpless look at Lizzie. Lizzie giggled. “Sorry. I hope we haven’t started the rumor mill.”

  Mahlon shook his head. “As long as Andy has ice cream and baseball, he’s pretty content to let other stuff go right over his head.”

  Emma reached out for her annoyingly loyal twin brother and her irritatingly persistent best friend. “Come here,” she said, pulling them into a three-way hug. Lizzie hesitated briefly, and Mahlon stiffened as if he were having a heart attack. But they both relented and let her wrap her arms around them. “Denki for loving me enough to fight about me.”

  Freeman knocked on the door so loudly that both Lizzie and Mahlon jumped. He was four minutes early.

  Emma pasted on her friendliest smile, the smile that she hoped said I’m so happy to be going to the lake with you, but I’m not interested. Freeman probably wouldn’t get that subtle hint. No doubt she’d need to make herself clear at the end of the evening.

  Freeman stood on her porch grinning as if he were looking forward to being with her. “Hullo, Emma. You ready to go?”

  Emma grabbed the black sweater that Anna had knitted for her. The first week in June would be cool at the lake.

  “Hullo, Lizzie. Hi, Mahlon,” Freeman said.

  “Have a gute time,” Mahlon mumbled, watching Lizzie out of the corner of his eye—probably trying to tell if his good wishes irritated her.

  Why were her hands trembling? Emma fumbled with her sweater, pushing her hand through the sleeve but managing to turn the other sleeve inside out. Freeman leaned in to help her untangle her twisted sweater as she shoved her balled hand through the sleeve. Unfortunately, she shoved hard and caught Freeman on the chin with her fist. His head snapped back, but he didn’t fall over. Surprise popped onto his face, but he soon recovered himself, rubbed his chin, and kept on smiling. Good thing. It was never good to have to revive the boy on the doorstep before the date even started. She’d already done that once.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “That’s all right,” he said, “It’s always good to know if a girl has a good left hook to fight bears with.”

  Emma laughed sheepishly. “I don’t usually attract bears.”

  Freeman chuckled. “Well, you can take on the dangerous squirrels, then.”

  They finally made it out the door and into Freeman’s courting buggy. Emma sighed as she examined the red mark already forming on his chin. After their date, she wouldn’t even have to be careful to let him down gently. With her penchant for accidental mishaps, Freeman would be running for the hills within the hour.

  Ben’s eyes flew open. Light streamed between the slats of his blinds. How could he have overslept? He groaned as he tried to jump out of bed. His legs felt as if they weighed three tons each. He didn’t see how he would even be able to get dressed this morning, let alone help Emma with the pumpkins or milk the cow for Dawdi. He’d overdone it at the doctor’s office yesterday, helping Dawdi in and out of a wheelchair and up and down the stairs. Dawdi’s surgeries seemed to be harder on Ben than they were on Dawdi.

  Ben rolled onto his stomach and raised himself with his arms. They didn’t feel too bad today. A little weak, but he’d rather have that than the pain. He shifte
d his legs off the bed and set his feet on the floor. He gasped as he flexed his leg muscles and did what he could to get the blood flowing. Once he felt stable enough to stand, he shuffled around his room until he was certain he wouldn’t topple over in Mammi and Dawdi’s presence. They had enough to worry about with Dawdi’s procedure yesterday.

  He walked with long strides into the great room so he could show everyone how hale and hearty he felt. Mammi stood at the stove making what Ben assumed was breakfast, although it smelled like fish. Maybe he’d slept in longer than he thought.

  Dawdi sat in his recliner, reading the paper as usual. One of his feet sported a work boot while the other foot was wrapped thick with gauzy bandages. It looked like a snowy white pillow. Things hadn’t been as serious as Mammi had led Ben to believe. The doctor froze Dawdi’s warts off and told him they would blister, hurt for a week or so, and then he’d be good as new. Ben could be back in Florida before the end of June.

  Dawdi eyed him curiously as he came into the room. Ben stood taller and didn’t even wince at the tightness in his spine. Dawdi would not discover his secret, even if he searched as hard as he could. “Gute maiya, Dawdi. I can’t believe I slept in.”

  Dawdi waggled his finger at Ben. “No need to apologize. It was a hard day for all of us. I’m glad we didn’t have to go to the hospital to get my warts off. I don’t like the smell.”

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Right as rain. Thanks to you, I found three new license plates.”

  Washington, Maryland, and Ohio had almost made the surgery worth it for Dawdi. “It wasn’t all thanks to me. Roy saw Ohio.”

  Dawdi patted the small notebook that he always kept in his shirt pocket. “If I get another surgery or two, I’ll have all my license plates by September.”

  “You won’t have to have any more surgeries,” Ben said, patting him reassuringly on the hand. “You’re going to get better in no time, Dawdi.”

  “I’m sure of that. My foot don’t even hurt one bit.”

  “Now, Felty,” Anna said with her head still bent over the stove. “You’ll be on crutches for weeks. How are you ever going to harvest beans on crutches?”