Andrew

by Jennifer Beckstrand

  Dawdi might have given Andrew a slight nod, but he couldn’t be sure.

  The thought of Mary Coblenz sent several emotions swirling in Andrew’s head like a pile of hair trimmings caught in the wind. “Benji and Alfie love her, but I was mad at her at first. She seemed so sure of herself, like she wasn’t sorry for her sins. I told her to stop being so proud because I wouldn’t tolerate her sin—and neither would anyone else in the community. I hoped she would feel the shame that Gotte wanted her to feel so Gotte could lead her to repentance.”

  Andrew was staring at the back of Dawdi’s head, but he heard a faint grunt from Dawdi’s throat. Andrew pressed his lips together. Dawdi wasn’t happy with him. He wasn’t all that happy with himself.

  “I thought I was right, but my own sins nagged at me. No matter what Mary has done, I should have helped her with that wagon.” He stepped around to face Dawdi. “There was this wagon. Benji pulled it for her, but I was afraid of what other people were going to think. I should have had the courage to be the man Mamm taught me to be.”

  Dawdi smiled. He agreed.

  Andrew’s heart sank. Dawdi was never going to respect him again. “I went to this gathering and Mary was there and people were being so mean to her. She made me see how bad I had been treating her too, and I was ashamed to call myself a Christian. Jesus said to love the sinners. I thought I was so much more righteous than she was, but I was just being proud.”

  It had taken Mary to make Andrew see how blind he had been, but his thoughts had been so heavy and his discomfort so acute at the gathering, he had barely been able to look her in the eye for shame.

  “I’m sorry, Dawdi. I’ve soiled the family name.”

  Dawdi twitched his head back, and Andrew nearly poked him with the scissors. It was plain Dawdi didn’t like that thought. Maybe he wasn’t so ashamed of his grandson after all.

  There were other emotions that he’d tried to banish from his mind for a whole week. “There’s something else, Dawdi. I’ve been trying not to think about Mary at all. She’s nice and everything, but I’m not part of her world and I don’t want to be. I’ve just never had such a struggle getting a girl out of my head before. It doesn’t matter how many cold showers I take or how many peanut butter jars I wash, Mary Coblenz just keeps creeping into my thoughts. It’s like my head is a house, and she’s moved in. I wish you could give me some advice. I’ve tried singing hymns and whistling tunes, even shouting songs while I’m in the barn, but they don’t do anything to drown out Mary. She’s like a tune in my head I can’t get rid of.” There was no possible way to stop thinking about her. “Has that ever happened to you?”

  Dawdi’s smile got so wide, Andrew could see his gold tooth. It probably happened to every man at some point.

  This was a very bad thing.

  He liked Mary. And this was a very bad thing too. She had a tiny scar on her right eyebrow that danced when she smiled, and rosebud lips that were inviting even when she made one of her funny faces at him. What defense did he have against that? How could he possibly resist eyes the color of a crisp autumn sky or the way she smoothed her hair from her face or how she rested her chin on her hand when she was thinking deep thoughts? He even liked her toes and the way her lips twitched when she was in pain but she was trying to be brave.

  Andrew pulled the comb through Dawdi’s hair. “It’s just that Mary is with child. And she has a broken toe. And she’s completely unsuitable in every way, no matter how much I like her smile.”

  Her pregnancy was the mountain that stood between them, and Andrew didn’t have enough faith to move it, didn’t want to move it. He’d rather remain safely on his side of the mountain and leave her safely on hers. And for sure and certain he wasn’t about to scale a mountain only to fall off a cliff on the other side.

  “Jesus may have forgiven her, but even Mary admitted there were consequences to what she’s done. You can see the consequences, can’t you, Dawdi? No man in the gmayna would ever consider marrying her. It isn’t fair, and I feel like a bigger hypocrite than ever, but there it is. I’m sorry, Dawdi, but there’s nothing I can do about how I feel.”

  Dawdi sort of pinched his lips together and squinted at Andrew as if he were studying the thoughts in Andrew’s brain. Dawdi understood. There were probably only about five people in the community who didn’t understand how Andrew felt.

  For about the hundredth time, Andrew resolved to avoid Mary. He could be her friend from a distance. It wasn’t like their paths crossed all that often except at gmay. As long as she didn’t come to any more gatherings or break any more toes, they could be indifferent acquaintances who barely had a word to say to each other. Surely she would understand his hesitation.

  Ach, vell, she wouldn’t like it. She wanted to be accepted, not ignored. Andrew could bear Bitsy’s shotgun, but he didn’t know if he could bear Mary’s cold looks when she realized he’d be ignoring her from now on.

  But maybe he wouldn’t tell Dawdi about his plans. He couldn’t be sure Dawdi would approve.

  Andrew finished cutting Dawdi’s hair and let Dawdi watch as he threw the cut pieces of hair into the air and let the breeze carry them away. Dawdi seemed to enjoy that. Then Andrew helped his grandfather inside to the sofa. Dawdi was getting better with his walker, able to hold on to the handles and shuffle his way across the floor. Andrew had to place his hand over Dawdi’s left one to help him maintain a tight grip, and he always placed a firm arm behind Dawdi’s back to help him keep his balance. It wasn’t likely that Dawdi would ever be as robust as he was before the stroke, but Andrew could see the improvements every day.

  After Dawdi was settled on the couch with a blanket over his legs, Andrew went out to the porch and swept up Dawdi’s hair clippings with the new hand broom Mammi Martha had brought home from Walmart—horsehair bristles with a blue rubber ergonomic handle. While Dawdi recovered from his stroke, Mammi Martha was renting their house to Cousin Moses, and she seemed determined to spend all the rent money on improving Mamm’s house.

  Just to make Mammi happy, Andrew went in the house, got down on his hands and knees, and swept the kitchen floor. She loved it when anyone used one of her house gifts.

  Benji burst into the kitchen and stopped right inside the door, letting the screen door slam behind him. His face was bright red, and he glanced around the kitchen as if he didn’t want to make a scene but had something important to say. “Benji,” Mamm said without turning around, “you know better than to let the door slam. Go back out and try again.”

  “But, Mamm, I need to tell Andrew something.”

  “It can wait. Go out and show me how a nice young man shuts the screen door.”

  Benji groaned and dragged his feet, but he went outside, came back in again, and held out his hand so the screen door gently swung shut behind him. “I need to talk to Andrew.”

  “Three more times,” Mamm said, “just to be sure you learned your lesson.”

  Benji acted as if Mamm had asked him to clean the toilets for a whole year with his toothbrush. “Come on, Mamm, someone might die.”

  Mamm raised an eyebrow. “Someone might die? Well, someone might get the spatula if he doesn’t stop whining.”

  Andrew looked away to hide a smile. Benji and Alfie practiced shutting doors at least once a week. They didn’t seem to be learning anything.

  Benji went outside three more times and carefully shut the door all three times when he came in. “Okay, Mamm?”

  “Okay,” Mamm said. “Now give me a kiss.”

  Benji sighed like a dying cow but gave Mamm a peck on the cheek before turning to Andrew and tugging on his sleeve. “You’ve got to come, Andrew. There’s something very important I have to show you outside.”

  Andrew knelt down and swept the last of the crumbs into the dustpan, in no hurry to see what Benji had to show him outside. What his bruderen were convinced was important could turn out to be a pile of deer droppings or a dead bird in the yard. And lately Benji and Alfie acted as i
f Andrew was their only bruder. They asked him to do everything for them and talked nonstop about Bitsy Weaver and cats and what kind of girl they wanted to marry. It was sweet, but sometimes Andrew wished they’d pick on someone else. “What do you want to show me?”

  Benji narrowed his eyes into slits and pressed his lips into a trembling line. “I can’t tell you until we get outside,” he whispered. “It’s really bad.”

  Something in Benji’s expression told Andrew this wasn’t about deer droppings or dead birds. “What’s wrong?”

  “You have to come outside.”

  One of the unwritten rules among the bruderen was that none of them ever tattled to Mamm. If one of the bruderen was in trouble or had made trouble, they tried to keep it to themselves and help each other out because Mamm was happier when she didn’t know. “Okay, Benji,” Andrew said, glancing at his mamm. She was grating carrots into the meatloaf and Lord willing, oblivious to Benji’s distress.

  Benji took Andrew’s hand and practically yanked him toward the door. “Just a minute, Benji,” Mammi Martha said. “Have you had your spray of rose water today?”

  Benji let out a quiet yelp, like a puppy caught in a trap. This was no time for rose water.

  “We’ll do it later, Mammi,” Andrew said, guiding Benji out the door and down the back steps. He cringed when the door slammed behind him.

  “Benji!” he heard Mamm yell.

  They both looked behind them and ran like the wind. Mamm could make them practice their doors later.

  Andrew followed Benji to the front of the house and out onto the road. Benji stopped and waited for Andrew to catch up with him. “What’s the problem?” Andrew said, hoping it didn’t involve Alfie or blood.

  To Andrew’s surprise, Benji puckered up his whole face and burst into tears. “He was doing it on purpose, and then he got stuck. He’s going to die. With all the cats.”

  Feeling more than a little anxious, Andrew squatted and steadied Benji’s shoulders. “What happened? Where’s Alfie?”

  “Don’t tell him I told you,” Benji said, wiping away his tears and smearing dirt and water across his cheek.

  Andrew had no idea what Benji was talking about, but if he was going to get anything useful from Benji, he’d have to be agreeable. “Okay, I won’t tell him.”

  “Alfie was going to pretend to get stuck in one of Bitsy’s trees and then he climbed too high and now he’s really stuck, and all of Bitsy’s cats climbed up with him and they’re stuck too.”

  “Alfie’s on Honeybee Farm?”

  “And stuck in a tree.”

  Andrew tried not to grunt his exasperation. Alfie could get himself into trouble with a spoon and a rubber band. It took almost no effort at all. “Honeybee Farm is pretty far.”

  “We ran. Then I ran back.”

  There was no time to ask why Alfie and Benji had run to Honeybee Farm or why Alfie had wanted to get stuck in one of their trees. With two eight-year-olds, there was probably no good answer. “Let’s take the horse. It will be faster.”

  Benji sniffed and nodded. “I don’t want him to die. And Bitsy will be mad about her cats, but we didn’t ask them to come with us.”

  Andrew saddled the horse and sat Benji in front of him as they trotted to Honeybee Farm. Andrew’s heart pounded in his chest like a drum, but it didn’t have anything to do with the fact that he might see Mary Coblenz.

  A row of tall basswood trees stood along the east side of Bitsy’s farm. They were in full bloom with tiny white blossoms and a sweet fragrance that filled the air. A dull hum came from each of the trees. Bitsy had planted trees and flowers her bees liked. It was a good bet that those trees were teeming with bees.

  “Which tree is it?” Andrew said, peering up into the tall basswood trees. Surely Alfie hadn’t climbed one of those.

  Whining and sniffling, Benji pointed to a tree right in the middle of the row. Of course Alfie had chosen the tallest one. “There.”

  Andrew felt like a little whining and sniffling himself. His chest tightened. Those basswood trees were nearly sixty feet high. He spurred Snapper to go faster until they made it to the base of the tree, where Andrew vaulted off his horse and helped Benji down. Andrew stared up into the branches, but the tree was thick with leaves and blossoms. He couldn’t see any sign of Alfie or Bitsy’s cats. “Alfie? Are you up there?”

  He heard a rattle from an impossibly high branch about forty feet up. “I’m here.” Alfie’s voice floated down like a dried leaf, shaky and weak. “I can’t get down.”

  “We came to save you,” Benji yelled. “And the cats.”

  “The white one won’t let go of my shoulder,” Alfie called. “If he let go, for sure and certain, I could climb down.”

  Andrew’s heart did a sickening flip as he pictured his bruder tumbling from the tree. “Don’t try to climb down, Alfie. I’ll come and get you. Hold on.”

  Andrew jumped over the wire fence that snaked around the front of Bitsy’s property. Gazing up into the tree, he backed up until he caught a glimpse of Alfie sitting on a very thin branch clutching another branch above his head for dear life. A fat white cat did indeed sit on Alfie’s shoulder, probably digging its claws into Alfie’s skin, making it harder for Alfie to hold on. An orange marmalade cat perched on the branch next to Alfie, but Andrew couldn’t see the other two cats.

  It didn’t look good, and it only took Andrew about five seconds to realize there was no way he could climb that tree. The branches toward the top wouldn’t hold his weight, and there wasn’t enough leverage to grab on to Alfie and guide him down.

  Andrew ground his teeth together and growled under his breath. What had Alfie been thinking?

  That was the problem. Alfie hadn’t been thinking, and as soon as he was safely on the ground, Andrew was going to kill him.

  Benji ducked under the fence and stood next to Andrew, sniffing back his tears and peering into the tree. “He got wonderful high.”

  Wonderful high and Andrew was going to kill him.

  “We could get a ladder.”

  “There isn’t a ladder high enough, Benji.”

  “I could climb up with a rope.”

  “Nae,” Andrew shouted, his irritation shooting to the surface. The only thing worse than his bruder stuck in a tree would be two bruderen stuck in a tree.

  Alfie shifted on the creaky branch, and Andrew nearly had a heart attack. That branch could only hold his bruder, and who knew how many cats, for so long. They had to get him down immediately.

  “Benji, Bitsy has a phone shack. Do you know where it is?”

  Benji slumped his shoulders. “Alfie and I have never been able to find it.”

  Andrew didn’t know if he should be grateful for that or not. “Run to the house and ask Bitsy where her phone shack is. We need to call a fire truck.”

  Benji’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “A fire truck?”

  Much as Andrew hated the thought that he couldn’t help his own brother, he’d rather no one, including himself, broke his leg. “They’re going to have to get Alfie down.”

  Benji cupped his hands around his mouth. “Alfie,” he yelled, “hold on. We’re calling the firemen.”

  “Go,” Andrew said.

  Benji ran toward the house like he’d been shot from a hunting rifle.

  Andrew glued his eyes to Alfie, as if he could keep him in the tree by staring hard enough. “We’re going to get you down, Alfie, but you’ve got to be really still and hold on tight.”

  “Billy Idol keeps growling at me.”

  Billy Idol? Ach, that was one of the cats. The ugly one. “Just ignore Billy Idol. He’s trying to make you nervous.”

  “And three bees landed on me already.”

  Bees were everywhere. “They won’t sting you if you just leave them alone.”

  “But what if they won’t leave me alone?”

  Oh, no. The rose water. Bees probably adored the smell of rose water. He wouldn’t mention rose water to Alfie. It wou
ld only make him more agitated, but Andrew prayed that just this once, Alfie had disobeyed Mammi Martha and hadn’t sprayed rose water on himself this morning. He let out the ragged breath he’d been holding. Surely Alfie had neglected to spray rose water on himself. He hated that stuff.

  There was rustling in Alfie’s part of the tree, and Andrew’s heart jumped like a bullfrog. Alfie could bring down the whole branch by swatting at the bees. “Alfie, you’ve got to hold very still until the firefighters get here.”

  “It’s hot and itchy up here. And one of the cats keeps licking me.”

  Maybe you should have thought of that before you decided to climb that stupid tree. Andrew didn’t know if fear or anger was his strongest emotion at the moment. Mamm was going to hear about this. Alfie deserved a good hide tanning, even though Mamm had never actually tanned anybody’s hide. She preferred a swift smack on the hinnerdale with the spatula. It didn’t hurt, but it got her point across.

  Andrew chastised himself for thinking of punishing Alfie at a time like this. Just being up in that tree was punishment enough. Alfie was frightened and all by himself—if you didn’t count the growling cats. Not only that, but he was in terror of being stung every minute, and there was the very real possibility that he could fall and break several bones. All that mattered was that Alfie got down safely. He’d already been punished amply for his carelessness.

  Hadn’t Mary told Andrew the very same thing?

  Mary was experiencing the unforgiving consequences of what she had done. Jesus died for Mary. The punishment had already been meted out. Was the community so callous as to demand more from her?

  Maybe now all that mattered to Gotte was to get her home safely.

  Mary, Bitsy, and Benji jogged across the lawn toward Andrew. Well, Mary wasn’t jogging. It was more of a very fast walk, but she shouldn’t go so fast in her condition. She always looked like an angel with that golden hair framing her face like a halo. And why did she have to wear that blue dress. It made her eyes look like a clear sky right after a thunderstorm. Andrew shouldn’t stare. He shouldn’t even look. Mary Coblenz was not for him, and he was not for her. It would be best to ignore her altogether. Mary need never know he thought she was pretty. No good would come of it.