She gasped. “No, you don’t. You’re going to be a mess.” She bent her knees so that the tarp paralleled the ground, but that was no good either. The hail piled in the middle of the tarp and made it sag.
“Ben, stand up.”
“You stand up. I’m already muddy, and I don’t want you to get sick.”
She squatted to make her side lower than Ben’s. The hail that had collected on the tarp tumbled in an avalanche down her back. She caught her breath as several hailstones sneaked down the back of her dress.
Ben bent so low that his cheek nearly touched the ground. The hail seesawed back to his side and dribbled down his back. He chuckled and cocked an eyebrow. “I can always go lower.”
Seeing she wasn’t going to win, Emma growled and stood all the way up. Ben returned to his knees. “This is my project. You shouldn’t have to suffer for it.”
“I want to save Mammi’s pumpkin as much as you do.”
After five long minutes and a song about raindrops and tarps courtesy of Ben, the hail gave way to a gentle rain. Ben stuck his head out from under the tarp. “It looks safe to come out.”
Emma held out her hand to catch some rain and then lowered the tarp. Light rain like this would be good for the plants. She tugged at the tarp, and Ben let go. “We should let this dry flat in the barn and fold it later.”
He nodded.
“Denki for your help.”
He smiled. “Mammi must not go without a giant pumpkin.” He grabbed the umbrella off the ground and opened it. Stepping close to her, he held it over both of them to shield them from what was left of the rain. It wouldn’t do much good now. They were both soaked to the bone like two waterlogged cats.
“Denki,” she whispered as his closeness engulfed her. She breathed in his manly scent and sighed as his breath caressed her cheek. The tarp slipped from her fingers.
He turned to stone.
Emma did her best to divert her thoughts. Holding her breath so she wouldn’t be tempted to sniff at him, she thought of Adam and tried to remember what he smelled like. Not one thought came to mind.
What about his teeth? Adam had nice teeth, didn’t he? She couldn’t recall. What did Adam even look like?
She remembered they were standing under an umbrella before her voice failed her completely. “I am probably as wet as I’m going to get.”
With an unreadable expression, he brushed a lock of soggy hair from her forehead. “Do you like Adam Wengerd?”
She swallowed hard. “I . . . I don’t know. He has good teeth.”
“I don’t think you should date him anymore.”
“You don’t?” Through the fog, she latched on to one thought. Had Lizzie’s plan worked? Was he jealous enough to get back together with her?
Nae, of course not. How could she dare open her heart to such a possibility?
Instead of pulling away like he absolutely, positively should have, Ben traced his finger down the side of her cheek and rubbed his thumb along her jawline. If several hailstones hadn’t rolled down her back during the storm, she would have thought that maybe she shivered from something other than the cold.
“Adam can’t take care of you the way you need to be taken care of,” he said in a low, rumbly tone that might have made her swoon if she had been prone to fainting. A girl who saw as much blood as she did tried to avoid fainting. As much as possible.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.
She couldn’t read the emotion in his eyes as he grew breathlessly still and stared at her mouth.
Oh, no. Oh, no.
Whatever she did, she mustn’t lose her composure. Ben was just performing his normal check of her injuries, making sure her eyebrows, nose, and lips were in good working condition.
Without warning, he wrapped his free hand around her waist, pulled her closer than she would ever have dared hope, and kissed her hungrily. She was glad she made that resolution not to faint. His kiss was glorious, as if heaven had emptied itself of all the angels, and they now floated over Emma’s little corner of the world.
That boy she went to the bonfire with, what was his name again?
Diligently, she kissed Ben back with all the fervor of months of heartache and waiting. Her love for him multiplied sevenfold just standing there. He was so strong and kind and brave, and she couldn’t see loving anyone else for as long as she lived.
Did this mean Ben still loved her, that Lizzie had been right all along? Had he just needed a push? Her heart soared to the sky, and she blessed the hailstorm that had brought them together again.
The umbrella fell from his hand, and he wrapped both arms around her until she was doubly secure in his embrace. He kissed her as if he needed to drink his fill of her lips before an impossibly long journey. She wrapped her arms around his neck and abandoned herself to the raw emotions of love and longing.
At that moment she opened her heart to him as she hadn’t dared do for nearly a year. She gave it to him freely, trusting him to protect it as his own. It was no longer hers. She would let Ben do what he wanted with it.
Tears of joy ran down her face, and the saltiness mingled with their kisses, tasting sweeter because of all they’d been through together. It took her a moment to realize that his tears mixed with hers.
She pulled her face mere inches away from his. “Ben,” she whispered. “Oh, Ben, I love you so much. So much.”
He closed his eyes and flinched as if she had slapped him. Tears rained down his cheeks and dripped onto her face.
“What is it? How can I help you?”
His arms tightened around her in a vise-like grip. When he opened his eyes, she saw suffering of exquisite intensity.
Dread grew in her heart like mold. “Ben, what’s wrong?”
“Emma, I’m so sorry.”
She pulled him closer even as she felt him slipping from her grasp. “Sorry for what?”
He released her, took a step away, and pressed his hands to his face. “I should never, never have lost control that way.”
“It’s okay, Ben. I love you. I never want to be without you again.” She reached for him, and he stepped back as if touching her would be deadly. Fearing a single puff of air might shatter her entire world, she held her breath and waited for him to speak.
“I can’t. I can’t do this to you.” He swiped the back of his hand across his face. “There is no hope for you and me, Emma. You must understand that. You mustn’t have any hope.”
A sob would have broken from her throat if she had been able to breathe. Why did her heart still beat in her chest when she felt so dead inside?
“I want you to have a happy, long life with a husband who loves you and your children. Lots of children. I want the time we spent together to be a happy memory instead of one that causes you pain.”
His words turned her to hard, cold ice. “And we must make sure that Ben gets what he wants.”
“I want you to get over me.”
She felt as if she would shatter into a million pieces. All those months of working so hard to be happy—trying to forget Ben Helmuth and banish him from her heart—all those months had been utterly wasted. She would never be happy again. “You don’t understand, do you, Ben? You are impossible to get over.”
Not caring if she tripped all over herself, she ran away from him as if her life depended on it. Ragged sobs stuck in her throat while hot tears stung her eyes and made it nearly impossible to see where she was going.
“Emma, wait! At least take the umbrella.”
She didn’t waste time turning back to tell him no. She’d never set foot on Huckleberry Hill again. Anna’s pumpkin could rot in the sun for all she cared.
Like a cold autumn wind, she blew down the hill and never looked back.
Even weeping as she’d never wept before, she didn’t fall. She didn’t even stumble. Ben would have been so proud.
Chapter 13
Emma climbed the short fence between Hersch-berger’s pasture and her family’s pr
operty. She didn’t even care that she scraped her leg and snagged her dress. What did anything matter anymore?
She was soaking wet. The rain had given way to a drizzle halfway home, and no traces of violent storm remained but the refreshing smell of damp grass and little puddles along the road. Usually she loved to go outside right after a rainstorm. Today she wanted to crawl into a little ball and let the world go on without her.
Her heart sank when she glanced toward the house. Lizzie and Mahlon were swinging on the swing set, going impossibly high like two first graders trying to outdo each other. Lizzie giggled, and although Mahlon had his back to Emma, he surely grinned with his whole face, the way he was accustomed to doing whenever Lizzie was around.
It seemed they couldn’t get enough of each other. It was the way she and Ben used to be.
Another sob almost tore from her lips. She clapped her hand over her mouth. They mustn’t see her. She wouldn’t make it all the way into the house without being discovered. Should she duck into the chicken coop? Nae, she felt miserable enough without exiling herself to the chicken coop. She wanted to cry in peace without that foul smell filling her lungs.
Maybe she could slink around to the back of the woodshed and crawl through the window. Of course, she didn’t know where she would sit, and the sawdust made her sneeze, but the pleasant smell of freshly cut cedar would be a nice change from flying feathers and squawking chickens.
She ran for cover behind the cherry tree. Holding her breath, she listened for any sign that Mahlon or Lizzie had seen her. She could still hear Lizzie’s giggling.
It was a little farther from the tree to the shed. She poked her head around the tree. Their backs were to her. No need to fear being discovered.
Emma bolted for the shed and breathed a sigh of relief when she managed to reach its protection without making any noise. It wouldn’t be a problem to open the window wide enough to climb into. It was a big window, and she’d done it before.
She propped her hands underneath the bottom half and pushed. It wouldn’t budge. Not an inch. She cupped her hands around her eyes and gazed inside. Someone had fastened the latch. Ach, du lieva, now she’d have to sneak around the front and risk being discovered. She wanted to sit down and have a gute cry and then maybe run away forever. Was that too much to ask?
She’d have to risk it. With the way Mahlon and Lizzie were carrying on, they wouldn’t notice a tornado blowing through. Emma tiptoed around the side of the shed with her gaze glued to the swing set. Unfortunately, this meant she didn’t watch where she was going. She stumbled over a chicken in her path and almost lost her footing. Even though she regained her balance quietly, the chicken was not so circumspect. It beat its wings and squawked indignantly and ruined any chance for Emma to make it to the safety of the shed without being seen.
Mahlon dragged his feet on the ground to stop his swing. “Emma,” he called.
She smiled as best she could and gave him a casual wave. Maybe from this far, he wouldn’t see the tearstained face or the eyes as puffy as feather pillows.
Lizzie turned her head, jumped from her swing in midair, and ran at Emma. Should she turn and run the other way?
Nae. That would be a little too suspicious.
“You’re home early,” Lizzie said as she and Mahlon approached. “Me and Mahlon had another idea.” She got close enough to see the red eyes. “Oh, dear.”
Mahlon’s smile disappeared. “You’re soaking wet. What happened?”
Emma tried to wave away his concern. “You know. Just another wonderful day at Huckleberry Hill.”
Mahlon’s expression turned positively grim. “What did Ben do?”
Lizzie narrowed her eyes. “What? You think he pushed her into a mud puddle or something? Why do you blame everything on my brother? Maybe it has nothing to do with Ben.”
“It always has something to do with Ben,” Mahlon said.
Ben. Jah, it always and forever had everything to do with Ben.
Emma clamped her lips together so nothing would escape. She lowered her head and marched toward the house. Even Mamm’s finger wagging would be more bearable than this banter between her best friend and her twin brother, who didn’t care about her as much as they cared about impressing each other.
“Emma, wait,” Lizzie called.
She should have run. Both of them caught up to her in no time.
Lizzie hooked her elbow and pulled her to the swing. “Sit,” Lizzie said. “Talk to me.”
“Swings make me dizzy,” Emma said, not looking Lizzie in the eye. “I just want to go lie down.”
“Let her be, Lizzie,” Mahlon growled.
Lizzie propped her hands on her hips. “If you’re going to accuse Ben of being the one to make Emma cry, then I want to hear exactly what happened.”
“We know what happened. Ben won’t leave Emma alone.”
“He can’t help it if she’s on Huckleberry Hill three times a week.”
Mahlon squared his shoulders. “So he doesn’t love Emma. Fine. But why does he have to keep rubbing it in?”
Emma lunged at Mahlon and threw her arms around his neck. Burying her face in the crook of his neck, she broke into gut-clenching sobs. Mahlon would always be on her side.
Her brother enfolded her into a crushing bear hug and let her get his shirt wet with her tears and her sopping dress.
“Oh, Emma,” Lizzie said. She put her arm awkwardly around Emma’s shoulder as Emma stood in Mahlon’s embrace.
“He kissed me,” she managed to say between sobs.
Mahlon grabbed her shoulders and nudged her to arm’s length. “He what?”
Lizzie’s astonishment was as complete as Mahlon’s. “Just now?”
“And then he told me he would never marry a girl like me.” Emma felt as if she were crumbling.
Mahlon again wrapped his arms around her and squeezed tight. “That dog,” he murmured.
“But . . . I don’t understand why he would do that,” Lizzie said.
Mahlon’s voice was tinged with a bitterness that Emma hadn’t heard for weeks. “I told you, Tizzy. He wants to rub it in, to prove that he can get Emma back anytime he wants.”
Lizzie caught her breath and stepped back. “Ben would never do that.”
Mahlon rubbed his hand up and down Emma’s arm. “Did you kiss him back, Emma?”
“Of course.”
He scowled at Lizzie. “Ben thinks Emma will follow him around like a puppy, lapping up whatever crumbs he throws at her. He’s back in Bonduel to gloat.” He folded his arms across his chest. “And to play with my little sister’s feelings.”
Jah, that’s how she felt. Pathetic.
“Don’t talk about my brother that way.”
“Quit defending him,” Mahlon said. “He’s a snake.”
“Oh,” Lizzie said, mocking him, “you called him a dog too. Any other animal names you want to throw at him?”
“How about rat? Or lizard?” His eyes could have shot darts. “Or pig? I think he’s a pig.”
To Emma’s surprise, Lizzie looked on the verge of tears. That couldn’t be. Lizzie got angry, but she never got her feelings hurt. “Well, I think you’re a pig, Mahlon Nelson.”
Emma slumped her shoulders. If only she’d been able to make it to the safety of the shed before they had discovered her.
“I don’t care what you think of me,” Mahlon snapped, “as long as you stay away from me.”
“I will,” Lizzie said. “I’d rather chop all my hair off than ever speak to you again.”
Hurt flashed in his eyes as he clenched his fists. The emotion didn’t last long. Mahlon didn’t often show weakness. “Tell that brother of yours to keep away from my sister.”
“You tell him yourself, if you’re so brave.”
“Don’t worry. I will,” he said.
“You’ll do no such thing,” Emma said.
Mahlon gave her that look he always had when he scolded her. “I’ll always stand up for you, Em, e
ven if you won’t stand up for yourself. And from now on, I’m steering clear of the Nelson family. Especially Lizzie Tizzy. I’ve had enough of her to last a lifetime.”
“And I’ve had more than enough of you,” Lizzie countered. “I’ve had so much of you, I want to throw up.”
Mahlon folded his arms and leaned within inches of Lizzie’s face. “Then why don’t you go home?”
Lizzie lifted her chin. “I’m here to see Emma. I’ll go home when I please.”
Emma felt ill. Nothing she said could possibly make things better between them, and she was too wrapped up in her own heartache to try.
“Well then,” Mahlon said, frowning so hard Emma thought his mouth might fall off his face. He spun on his heels and stomped toward the house.
Emma held her breath as she watched him go. Would she lose Lizzie again because of Mahlon? And wouldn’t it be better if she did? Being around Lizzie was a harsh reminder of Ben.
Lizzie turned her face away. “He never could keep his temper.” She sounded indignant enough, but her voice shook and a single tear made a slow trail down her face.
Even though she wanted nothing more than to be alone, Emma slid her arm around Lizzie’s shoulder. “Don’t cry. He’ll cool off in a few hours.”
Lizzie sniffed and swiped the tear from her cheek. “It never would have worked between us. What girl wants such an ill-tempered husband?”
Emma gladly steered Lizzie away from the subject of her own humiliation that morning. She need never know how easily Emma had succumbed to temptation. Emma ignored the searing pain that twisted her stomach into sailor’s knots. “Mahlon can get riled when he cares about something.”
“I want a nice, steady husband.”
“A husband who doesn’t care about anything?”
“Who doesn’t make me crazy.”
“Crazy in love?”
“Crazy in love with Mahlon? Absolutely not.” Lizzie relaxed the hard line of her mouth, shook her head, and huffed in frustration. “Oh, I don’t know.”
“He’s been known to help farmers get their corn in before the frost, and he still picks up Amos Eicher in his wheelchair every morning for school. He’s got a gute heart.”
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