As soon as Eli was clear of the wagon, Victor clicked his tongue to the horse. It started forward. Victor gave one last wave to Miriam as the wagon pulled away from the farm stand and moved off down the road. Leah, Eli, and Miriam were left alone.
Leah couldn’t help but look at Eli. He must have come to the district recently. She would definitely have remembered if she had seen him before. He had green eyes, pale skin, and a fringe of dark hair that she could just see poking out beneath the brim of his straw hat. Beneath the black suspenders, his shirt was a bright, crisp blue. It was so crisp she wondered if he was wearing it for the first time. He had a straight, wide mouth beneath high cheekbones, and, despite the limp, he stood tall and strong. What had she heard one of the older girls say about another boy? Eli was “good to look upon.”
“Well, now, what shall we do first?” Miriam asked, her tone deliberately cheerful. “I know. Why don’t the two of you bring the display tables out front? That is, if you think that you can manage, Eli. I can see that leg still bothers you.”
“I can manage,” Eli answered shortly.
“Fine,” Miriam said. “Bring out the tables, then, you two. That way, we’ll be all ready when our neighbors arrive.”
* * *
“How did you hurt your leg?” Leah asked some time later. The last half hour or so had been busy with people arriving with produce to sell. Miriam had kept Leah and Eli working together, arranging the fruits and vegetables on the outside display tables. For the most part, they had worked in silence. It was beginning to get on Leah’s nerves.
Eli cast her a sidelong glance, a definite challenge in his eyes. Eli’s eyes were the greenest that Leah had ever seen. They stood out in vivid contrast to his pale skin and dark hair. They would have been beautiful if they weren’t so cold, she thought.
“As if you don’t already know,” he said now.
Leah gasped. In the first place, he sounded so Englisch! In the second place, he was so wrong! And in the third . . . did he really have to be so rude? All Leah was doing was trying to make conversation.
“Why would I ask if I already knew the answer?” she demanded.
Eli gave a snort. “How should I know?”
All of a sudden, Leah’s irritation vanished. The laugh bubbled up and out of her before she could call it back.
At the sound of it, Eli’s face flushed. “You think this is funny?”
Leah sighed. “Of course I think it’s funny,” she said. “Can you really not hear how ridiculous we sound? All this knowing and not knowing. But I do not think it’s funny that you are hurt. That isn’t what I meant at all. How it happened is none of my business. I won’t ask again, and I am sorry to have intruded on your privacy.”
There! That ought to put rude Eli King in his place! she thought.
Eli stared then reached into a crate of tomatoes and began arranging them in neat rows. “Do you always talk like that?” he asked after a moment.
“Like what?”
“Like you’re already a gross-mammi.”
“I do not sound like a grandmother!” Leah protested, all her irritation returning. “I was just trying to be polite.”
“Well, don’t be,” Eli said. “In my experience, people use politeness as an excuse to hide what they really mean. Usually, it’s something not very nice. I’d rather just know what people think, right out.”
“All right,” Leah replied. She put her hands on her hips, just like her aenti Rachel did when she got cross. “What I think, Eli, is that you don’t understand the first thing about what it really means to be polite. What I think is that you’re rude and inconsiderate, and I feel sorry for you. What I think is that this conversation is over. I’m going to ask Miriam for something else to do, and though I won’t request it of her, hopefully she will give me something where I won’t have to get a lesson from you.”
* * *
“Where do you think we should put the pickles?” Leah asked Eli. Though she had hoped for a new assignment, far from his moody self, Miriam had directed them both to unpack and display the huge carton of condiments that Mary Helmuth had delivered that morning.
Leah had carefully lined up jars of chow-chow, horseradish, and chutneys on one of the stand’s side shelves. Now she was out of room.
Eli didn’t even look at her. He just shrugged and said, “How about near the register? The farm stands where I come from, in Ohio, always put the pickles near the register.”
“It’s already crowded there with jams and jellies,” Leah said, dismissing the idea.
“Then find another place for them,” Eli told her.
Twenty minutes later, Leah still had a half dozen pickle jars and no place to put them. Eli, she noticed, had found places for the mustards and relishes that he was unpacking.
“Pickles!” she said, exasperated.
Instantly, she became the focus of three pairs of eyes: Miriam’s, Sarah’s, and Eli’s. Miriam’s looked puzzled, Sarah’s intrigued. And, as Leah was beginning to suspect might always be the case, it was impossible to read the expression in Eli’s.
“Pickles?” Sarah echoed.
Leah glanced around in desperation. She had to figure out something now. She was not going to have Miriam think that it was taking her an entire day to find a home for these infernal pickles.
Leah gestured to the display of preserves and canned goods that now sat prominently on the farm stand’s front counter.
“It needs some pickles,” she explained. She marched over to the counter, nudged a few of the jams and jellies to the side, and wedged two jars of pickles beside the register. Surprisingly, they didn’t look out of place. “This way customers can’t possibly miss them as they check out. Everything we have out now is sweet,” Leah went on. “But not everybody wants that, at least not all the time.”
“It’s not a bad idea,” Sarah said thoughtfully.
“It was Eli’s,” Leah admitted. She couldn’t rightfully take credit for something he had thought of.
Eli murmured something Leah couldn’t quite catch beneath his breath. She ignored him.
“We need a variety, don’t you think?” she said, appealing to Sarah.
“A variety.” Sarah pronounced the words as if absolutely delighted by them. “Leah, you are absolutely right.” Her bright blue eyes, so much like her older sister’s, traveled between Leah and Eli. “I don’t know what you think, Miriam, but I’d say these two make a pretty good team.”
“Working together is always a blessing,” Miriam replied, somewhat neutrally. “There are more pickles on the shelves at the back of the store, different types.” She smiled at Leah. “But then, you know that, Leah, from helping me yesterday. I will let you and Eli decide which ones we should have on display.” She shot Sarah a quick look. “Since you make such a good team. You’ll probably need the stepladder,” she added.
Then she moved away from the counter to help a customer outside, with Sarah trailing along behind. Leah and Eli were left alone.
“I can’t climb the ladder. My leg is too stiff,” Eli said at once.
Leah’s stomach did a quick dive. She was secretly afraid of even the smallest height. Not that she was about to admit that to Eli, of course. Instead, she gave her head a toss, sending the strings of her kapp flying.
“I know how to climb a ladder,” she said.
“Fine,” Eli answered shortly. “Then you won’t mind if I help out front.” He gestured toward the outside. “Looks like we’re busy all of a sudden.”
Gazing out the open doors of the farm stand, Leah could see that he was right. Miriam and Sarah were each helping Englisch customers, and there were more cars just pulling into the parking lot.
“Fine,” Leah said, echoing Eli’s word.
Without waiting for him to make the first move, she spun on one heel and marched toward the back of the farm stand, h
eading for the place where the stepladder was stored behind the open back door. It was taller than the one her aenti Rachel used to reach high shelves in the kitchen, a half dozen steps up instead of just two. But, like Aenti Rachel’s, it had a curved bar at the top to hang on to, and a shelf just below that. Though Onkel John insisted it was there to be used, Aenti Rachel had always been dead set against putting anything on that shelf.
Leah hefted the stepladder—it was heavier than the one at home, too—and then walked to the shelves at the very back of the stand. To reach the pickles, she would have to climb at least three steps. Just the thought made her hands cold and clammy.
Don’t you be a child, now, Leah, she thought.
She set the ladder down and opened it up just as a peal of childish laughter filtered in from out of doors. Leah snuck a quick glance over her shoulder. Eli was helping an Englisch family with several young children. As she watched, he reached down and swung a young boy up onto his shoulders.
Well, Leah thought, at least he can be nice to someone!
She turned back to the ladder, pulled in a deep breath, and began to climb. She moved quickly, as if afraid to lose momentum, and kept her eyes fixed straight ahead, on the items on the shelves. As soon as the first jars of pickles came into view in front of her, Leah stopped. Then she reached out and seized several tall jars of dill pickle spears. After a moment’s hesitation, she placed them on the stepladder shelf.
Aenti Rachel would definitely not approve. But Leah did not want to go up and down the ladder umpteen times. Once up and once down was bad enough. Go up, collect the pickle jars she needed, come back down.
Leah stared at the shelves. She really should have some bread and butter pickles, too, she decided. After all, she had been the one to use the word “variety.” Fortunately, the jars of the thin, flat pickle slices were small. Unfortunately, they were on the next-to-the-highest shelf.
Leah’s heart began to race. Her legs and feet felt as if they were made of lead. She gritted her teeth and climbed one step higher, and then another. One more step, and she’d be on the top step. And here, finally, her aenti Rachel’s opinion won out. Aenti Rachel would never approve of standing on the top step.
Leah arched onto her tiptoes, reaching for the pickles. Her fingers found the first jar. It scooted backward, out of reach. She shifted position, trying to stretch up as high as she could. Her efforts made the ladder rock ever so slightly. One of the jars of dill pickles on the ladder shelf began to tilt.
Oh, no! Leah’s heart leapt into her throat. Desperately, she abandoned her quest for the sweet pickles and came down a step, making a lunge for the jar that was about to fall. The ladder swayed even more. Leah caught up all the jars she had pulled from the shelves, clutching them to her chest, and felt the ladder begin to rock in the opposite direction. She was going to fall!
Utterly without warning, Leah felt a pair of strong arms wrap around her, plucking her from the ladder and spinning her around. She was back on her feet almost before she realized what was happening. She stood, slightly breathless, still clutching the jars of pickles to her chest, and stared up into the face of her rescuer.
It was Eli.
Eli’s face was flushed. His chest rose and fell quickly. He was breathing hard, as if he had just sprinted to reach the back of the farm stand. His green eyes were wide and startled as they gazed down into Leah’s.
How had she ever thought his eyes were cold? Up close, they were anything but. Up close, Eli’s green eyes seemed lit from within, burning with some secret inner fire. Leah swayed, her head dropping forward as if she longed to rest it on his shoulder. She could have sworn she felt Eli’s arms tighten.
“First time on a ladder?” he inquired.
Leah’s head jerked up. She yanked back, out of Eli’s arms. She could feel her face grow hot with humiliation. Eli made a gesture, as if to call her back. Leah took a second step back and bumped right into the stepladder.
Why, oh, why couldn’t she think of some scathing reply? More than anything in the world, what Leah wanted was to hear her own voice delivering some finely chosen words. Words that would put Eli in his place once and for all. Preferably a place that was far away from Leah. But Leah’s mind was as blank as a new piece of paper. Her throat felt thick, as if she were about to cry.
She sidled sideways, still carrying her precious load of pickles, until she was certain she was out of the reach of Eli’s long arms. Then she whirled and walked to the front of the farm stand as quickly as she could, desperately trying to ignore the way her legs threatened to wobble.
“Danki, Leah,” Miriam said as she came in from outside. “Those will be a great addition to the display. You were right.”
Leah swallowed hard. “I was thinking some bread and butter pickles, too,” she admitted, “but I—”
“Oh,” Miriam said as her gaze slid past Leah. “Thank you, Eli.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Leah saw several jars of bread and butter pickles materialize on the counter near the display. She did not turn her head, but she did find her voice.
“Yes, thank you, Eli.”
“I think we’ve done enough for today,” Miriam went on. If she noticed any tension between the two young people, Leah could not tell. “We can put the finishing touches on the display tomorrow morning. Good work today, both of you. Thank you very much. Sarah and I can close up the stand. You can go on home now.”
“I will stay and help you,” Eli said. “I must wait for my onkel. The doctor in Ohio said I must not walk too far.”
“All right, then,” Miriam said. “See you tomorrow, Leah.”
“See you tomorrow,” Leah said.
She walked out the big front doors of the farm stand without looking back. If she looked back, she would have to look at Eli.
Quickly, with determined steps, Leah crossed the road and headed for home. What had happened in those moments after Eli had saved her from what could have been a nasty fall? Did she even really want to know?
No, she decided, as she turned down the driveway to her aenti and onkel’s house. She did not. She didn’t want to get any closer to the surprising glimpse of fire in Eli King’s cool, green eyes. Because one thing about fire, if you got close enough, you got burned. Every single time.
Eight
It was amazing how quickly new situations became old ones, Miriam thought. She stood, hands on hips, in the late morning sunshine, gazing at the farm stand from across the road. Was it really just a few short weeks ago that she had wondered how she would ever keep the stand running? God had certainly answered that question, and in a way Miriam would never have anticipated: by providing both Leah and Eli.
But that was the thing about God’s work, Miriam thought. You could always trust that He would act, but you couldn’t always see the ways of it ahead of time.
Take what she was doing now, for instance. Looking at a place she knew both inside and out from a distance rather than the usual up close. It was giving Miriam a whole new perspective on the farm stand, one she was finding both useful and inspiring. But the simple act of crossing the road to see the stand might never have occurred to her if not for an offhand remark of Leah’s about how she always looked forward to the moment the farm stand first came into view as she approached it from her aenti and onkel’s home.
It made Miriam realize how much she, too, looked forward to her first glimpse of the farm stand each and every day. But it also made her realize that she saw the same thing, time after time. Leah’s remark had inspired her to take a moment each day to look at the farm stand from a different angle. Sarah teased her about it, claiming that it looked as if Miriam were looking for the missing piece to a puzzle.
It was more than that, Miriam knew. Secretly, she suspected that what she was really looking for was the puzzle itself. If she ever had all the pieces, she might see a way into Daniel’s heart.
> And that’s enough searching for today, she decided. She would be late to start Daniel’s midday dinner if she didn’t get a move on. Moving briskly, Miriam walked back across the road.
* * *
“I think the farm stand could use a new coat of paint after we close for the winter,” Miriam said at dinner.
“Oh, ja?” Daniel asked somewhat absently. He turned the page of the farm journal he was reading and did not look up.
“Ja,” Miriam replied.
Quickly, she cut a piece from a slice of ripe tomato and popped it in her mouth. As far as Miriam was concerned, tomatoes were the true taste of summer. But that wasn’t the reason she was so eager to eat one now. She was trying to fill her mouth with something other than tart words. For once, Miriam had Daniel all to herself. Sarah had gone to run a quick errand in town, and Leah and Eli were minding the farm stand alone for the time being. Miriam would take dinner down to them once she and Daniel were finished eating.
Miriam had been secretly tickled to think she and Daniel would actually have a meal alone. And what was he doing? Reading a farm journal. Miriam knew that reading the journal was important to Daniel. But did he have to do it now?
She swallowed. “I am thinking we might make a change,” she continued. “Something that customers could see from far away. What would you think of painting the sides of the stand orange with red stripes?”
“That sounds nice,” Daniel commented. He turned another page of the journal and continued reading. Then, all of a sudden, he paused. He looked up, eyebrows raised, forehead creased in confusion. “Wait. What did you say?”
“Never mind,” Miriam said. She stood up. She picked up her plate and gave it a quick dunk in the dishwater she had ready and waiting in the sink. Then she rinsed it and set it in the drainer to dry. “I should get back. The young ones are on their own. I will see you at supper tonight, Daniel.”
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