Andrew

by Jennifer Beckstrand

  Andrew swallowed hard. Jerry had started the wheels in his head turning, and Andrew couldn’t stop them. Jerry hadn’t been afraid to ask questions, and Mary hadn’t seemed ashamed to answer them. Andrew had confused Mary’s open, unembarrassed way with pride and an unrepentant heart. But maybe it was as Mary said, she’d made peace with what she had done and invited Gotte’s forgiveness into her life. “Is that . . . is that why you came here after your parents kicked you out? You knew Bitsy would take you in?”

  Mary eyed him as if trying to decide why he was asking, but she kept walking and answered anyway. “Bitsy lived as an Englischer for almost twenty years. I knew if anybody could understand me, it was her. Bitsy isn’t afraid to love people who don’t fit in.”

  His curiosity overtook him, even though that little voice inside his head screamed at him to be careful. It might be wonderful dangerous to get to know Mary better. She could pull him into her sinful ways. “Were you happy in Green Bay?”

  She paused and looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “Nobody but Bitsy has asked me that. Nobody wants to know.”

  Andrew couldn’t imagine that more than a handful of people had said more than three words to Mary in all the time she’d been back. The subject of Green Bay had understandably never come up. “I want to know.”

  Mary seemed hesitant, which wasn’t what Andrew had come to expect. “It might be hard to hear.”

  Hard to hear? “Okay.”

  “I lived with my boyfriend, Josh, in his stepmother’s basement.”

  “Okay.”

  “Josh got us both jobs. He’s a gute mechanic. I worked in a bakery. They hired me because they found out I was Amish. I wore my Plain clothes every day to work. It brought in more customers. They think the Amish have some secret to good baking.”

  “Were you happy?”

  She raised her eyebrows in his direction. “Are you sure you want to know?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Because you’ve been taught your whole life that living in the community and strictly adhering to the Ordnung is the happier, safer way. The way to salvation. It’s hard to accept that other people might have found happiness outside our way of life.”

  Andrew frowned. “I still want to hear it.”

  Mary sighed. “I felt guilty to be living in sin with Josh, but he told me that was the way all Englischers did it. They lived together before they got married to make sure they truly wanted to be with each other. It made sense, so I put it out of my mind. It’s the only thing that still makes me ashamed. I believed a lie Josh told me because I wanted to believe it. I couldn’t have made it in the Englisch world on my own. In some ways, I was using Josh to get what I wanted.”

  “What did you want?”

  “Freedom.” Her eyes filled with concern, as if she worried she was going to upset the balance of Andrew’s entire life. “The truth is, Andrew, I was very happy. For the first time in my life, I could choose what I wanted to do. I could choose what I wanted to wear. I could choose whether or not to go to church. I started going to school because I wanted to be a nurse. I had no knowledge beyond the eighth grade, Andrew. It was like a whole new, wunderbarr world opened up to me.”

  Mary was right. Andrew didn’t want to hear that. The right way was supposed to be obvious. The sinner was supposed to be miserable and let that misery lead her to repentance. How would anybody learn obedience if disobedience was so attractive? “Ach, vell, I can’t imagine any happiness that would compensate for living a life of devotion to Gotte and the church.”

  “Of course you can’t, and I honor that. Safety is more important to you than freedom.”

  “Safety and righteousness.”

  She nodded vigorously. “Of course you are right. But what is righteousness? Is it keeping my head covered as a sign of humility? Is it wearing suspenders instead of belts or forbidding buttons on dresses?”

  “Those are traditions that point our thoughts to Gotte.”

  “Jah, and to a seventeen-year-old girl, they were restrictions I couldn’t live with.”

  “That seems short-sighted,” Andrew said.

  “Ach, vell, I was seventeen, and I’ve learned a lot.”

  “What have you learned?”

  Mary stopped about four yards from the beehives. “My idea of freedom was an illusion. I am free to make my choices, but nobody is free to choose the consequences. I worked two jobs, sixty hours a week to pay for my freedom. What kind of freedom is that? My family rejected me, which didn’t surprise me, but it was one of the consequences of leaving. Josh’s stepmother liked to stick her nose into our lives, but we were living in her house. I was never free of her.”

  Andrew had to shove his hands in his pockets to keep from caressing that silky cheek with his thumb. Something warm and swelling pressed against his rib cage, and he found himself aching to understand her. “I thought you were happy?”

  “I was.” Her lips turned upward. “When you choose one path, you also reject all the other paths you could have taken. It’s never an easy decision with anything that matters.”

  “I guess that’s true, but you made the wrong choice to begin with.” He probably shouldn’t have said that, but it was so obviously true.

  Mary’s eyes were turned from him, gazing at the beehives and the small pond beyond. She didn’t answer him for a few seconds. Then she turned, and her smile took his breath away. She pointed to the nearest beehive. “They won’t bother you if they don’t think you’re a threat.” And just like that, they were done with freedom and consequences and choices, and Andrew couldn’t help but think he’d missed something important and opened his mouth when he should have kept it shut.

  Ten beehives stood in a row, like a line of rag-tag scarecrows. Some beehives tilted slightly, as if winter had made them weary. Each box had been painted with flowers or farm scenes, but the colors had faded, weathered with age, snow, and rain, until the paint had peeled and flaked and gray wood was exposed at the corners. Still, they were a sight to see with what must have been thousands of bees flying in and out and all around. Each hive was so thick with bodies that it looked as if a cloud hovered over every one. And the hum of a thousand wings was like an approaching train, pleasant and mighty at the same time.

  “Wear long sleeves.” Mary grinned. “Although I probably don’t need to tell Alfie that. It appears he’s going to be wearing long sleeves for the next three months. And don’t wear brown. If you look like a bear, the bees will sting you.”

  “Will the bees think we’re flowers if we wear colors?”

  “Maybe.” Mary’s lips twitched sheepishly. “And you can’t smell good.”

  “Can’t smell good?”

  She shifted her weight. “I mean, well, mostly you smell like cedar or walnut or leather, but sometimes you smell like roses. I like it, but the bees do too.”

  Andrew’s heart beat double time. Mary liked it when he smelled like roses? Maybe Mammi Martha knew something Andrew didn’t. “Ach. Okay. No smelling like roses.”

  Mary gave him a curious smile. “There must be a story behind that.”

  “My mammi thinks rose water is the cure for smelly boys.”

  “I’m guessing the twins are against rose water.”

  “Jah. But Mammi is persistent.”

  He really liked Mary’s laugh. “Persistent with you too?”

  Andrew shrugged, and he felt his face get warm again. “Sometimes. Usually I don’t smell as bad as Alfie and Benji, so she forgets to make me use it.”

  “You smell like cedarwood.”

  “I’m making a cedar chest for the next auction.”

  Keeping a safe distance, she slowly walked around the beehives. He followed her. “You said your mamm doesn’t want you to build things.”

  “Well, not exactly. She knows I have the tools. She doesn’t know how much of my spare time is spent in the barn with the wood. She doesn’t like anything that takes away from making peanut butter and helping on the farm.
”

  “But you’d rather work with the wood.”

  “Mamm would be heartbroken if I told her I want to be a carpenter instead of a Peanut Butter Brother,” Andrew said. “The business wouldn’t survive without my help.”

  “Your mater seems like a reasonable person. Maybe you should tell her.”

  Andrew shook his head. “I couldn’t do that to Mamm. She’s done nothing but sacrifice for our family. If the twins are awake, they’re into some sort of trouble, and now that Mammi and Dawdi are living with us, her burdens are three times as heavy.”

  Mary’s brows inched together. “I’m sorry.”

  The look she gave him sent warm chocolate pulsing through his veins. “It’s okay.” It was more than okay. Mary Coblenz actually cared.

  Mary grew quiet as they finished circling the hives. “I know why Alfie was in that tree,” she finally said as they headed back toward the house.

  “You do?”

  “He was spying on me.”

  Andrew pulled down the corners of his mouth. “You? Why?”

  “Ach, vell, I’m the strangest girl Benji and Alfie have ever seen: pregnant, unmarried, and forbidden. They’re curious.”

  Andrew always got tense when she mentioned she was pregnant. “It’s a dangerous way to be curious.”

  She cleared her throat and looked away from him. “You told them to stay away from me, so they were spying.”

  His heart sank. “They told you that?” He should never say anything to an eight-year-old that he didn’t want repeated. And he never should have said that about Mary. He’d been terribly unfair.

  “I don’t blame you, Andrew. You’re a gute bruder. I’ll have a talk with them tomorrow and tell them they need to obey you. Disobedience got Alfie into a lot of trouble.”

  This would be a good time to crawl under the dirt. “Nae, Mary. I’m the one who was wrong. That first day, I was taken by surprise.” He couldn’t tell her how much her golden hair had distracted him. “I didn’t know you had come back and then I saw that you were pregnant.”

  “I still am.”

  “Ach, I was shaken up. I was afraid you’d be a bad influence on my bruderen.”

  “You’re not the only one who feels that way.”

  “It doesn’t matter how everybody else feels,” Andrew said. “As a Christian, I know better than to judge someone by how they look.”

  “But it’s not just how I look, Andrew. I’ve obviously done something very sinful. It’s normal that you would warn your bruderen against me.”

  He wasn’t going to let her make it easy on him. He stopped walking, cupped his fingers around her arm, and tugged her to a stop. “It might be normal, but it wasn’t nice. It was mean and cowardly, and I’m sorry.”

  She scrunched her lips and regarded him with raised eyebrows. “That’s . . . that’s a very nice thing to say, Andrew.”

  But.

  He could tell she didn’t quite believe him. At least she was nice about it. He couldn’t blame her for not trusting him. He hadn’t given her a lot of good reasons. How often had he called her a sinner to her face? How often had he called her to repentance? How many of his self-righteous words had cut her right to the heart? He’d helped her out of the volleyball game, but he had also stood by and let Benji pull the wagon for her. And he had practically done somersaults and back flips to avoid being seen with her.

  “I’m sorry, Mary,” he repeated, unsure if he’d ever convince her to believe him. “I’m going to tell the boys that they don’t have to stay away from you.”

  “Maybe that will keep them from climbing trees.”

  “I hope so. Bitsy might call the police if her dandelions get stepped on.”

  Mary smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

  Chapter Seven

  It would be safer if Alfie never took his shirt off again, except to take a bath, and even that was risky. Last night, he’d dressed in the T-shirt he wore as pajamas, and Mamm had come downstairs to tuck him and Benji in bed. She hadn’t tucked them in bed since the first night they’d slept in the cellar. Something was up.

  Maybe she was getting suspicious.

  Alfie had dived under the covers so fast he’d popped another hole in the air mattress. Luckily Mamm hadn’t noticed the air hissing from beneath him or the bandages on his arms. He had clamped the blankets right up against his chin when Mamm had knelt down to kiss him. She couldn’t have pulled those covers off with a crowbar.

  Tonight he decided to go to bed with his long-sleeved shirt on. That way if Mamm came down to tuck him in, she wouldn’t see a thing. And if she sneaked down in the middle of the night to spy on him, his sleeves would keep him from getting caught. Mamm was smart for a girl, but Alfie was on to her plans.

  He’d been tricked into moving into the cellar. She’d never trick him again.

  Alfie lay down on his back and stared at the ceiling, doing his nightly check for attacking spiders. He forgot about his arms for a second and tried to tuck his hands under his neck. Bending his elbows made everything sting, and he accidentally smacked his hand on the bookshelf Mamm had put next to his bed this morning.

  Mammi Martha bought the bookshelf because she said Benji and Alfie didn’t do enough reading. Mammi probably thought that if she got a bookshelf, Alfie and Benji would fill it with books. Alfie liked to read, but Mammi only approved of books like Martyrs Mirror and March Forward with the Word! Alfie liked Scooby-Doo, and Benji read Tintin. They got them at the library and hid them under their pillows so Mamm wouldn’t know. Mamm had never actually told them they couldn’t read Scooby-Doo, but better to be safe than sorry. What she didn’t know couldn’t get them in trouble.

  When two Englischers had delivered the bookshelf this morning, Mamm got that look on her face like when you stuff a deer and give it marbles for eyes. Alfie was beginning to wonder if Mamm didn’t appreciate Mammi Martha’s gifts. For sure and certain, Alfie didn’t appreciate them. Mammi forced him and Benji to read for half an hour every day—In. The. Summer!—and he’d just smacked his hand on her bookshelf.

  He was beginning to think that the cellar was where Mamm put all her unwanted things.

  Alfie’s arms still hurt something wonderful. Raking and shoveling Bitsy’s grass today had made them feel worse, even though Andrew had let Alfie and Benji sit under the tree half the time and drink lemonade with Mary while Andrew did all the work.

  Andrew was as dumm as a fish. Alfie had done a lot of spying, but for all he could tell, Andrew hadn’t even held Mary’s hand yet, and it was going on five weeks knowing Mary. Andrew had done a lot of looking at Mary yesterday when he thought no one was paying attention, but looking didn’t do squat. They needed a wedding. What was Andrew waiting for?

  There was nothing wrong with Mary. She had let Alfie and Benji eat as many sugar cookies as they wanted, and she didn’t even get mad when Benji spilled his drink on her leg. Her toe was still wrapped up with tape, and her foot was a spooky, jiminy-critters color of purple. She didn’t ever cry about it, even though Alfie could tell it hurt her cuz she limped when she walked, along with waddling, which she said she was doing because she couldn’t walk straight with a baby in her tummy.

  Maybe it was Mary’s fault. Maybe she wasn’t all that excited about Andrew. Andrew was pretty nice and he was tall, but Jerry Zimmerman had a real fireman’s hat and a coat with yellow stripes and the neatest truck Alfie had ever seen. Mary had smiled at Jerry after he helped Alfie from that tree. What could Andrew do to impress a girl that Jerry couldn’t?

  Andrew would never have a wunderbarr red truck like Jerry. Maybe it was a lost cause. Or maybe they’d have to try harder if they wanted their own room. They might need some firecrackers, and they’d definitely have to consult with Dawdi.

  The cellar door opened, and Alfie could hear footsteps on the stairs. He almost dived under the covers until he remembered he didn’t need to because he had long sleeves. They didn’t need another hole in the air mattress. Andrew ha
d already fixed two. Of course, if Andrew was married, they wouldn’t have to sleep on the air mattress, so Alfie couldn’t see it in his heart to be grateful.

  Benji didn’t dive under the covers, but he did stuff the whole cookie in his mouth that he’d been saving for a midnight snack. Mamm didn’t like food in the cellar. She said it attracted bugs. She didn’t know that there were already too many bugs to count, and enough spiders to eat them all. What was she thinking anyway? All there was in the cellar was food—and Mammi’s bookshelf. Canned spaghetti sauce, chow-chow, green beans, Mammi’s cookie sheets, and stewed tomatoes. If Alfie and Benji ever got stuck down here, they could live for five years on salsa and canned cheese.

  Sure enough, Mamm appeared at the bottom of the stairs with two mugs of something steamy hot in one hand and a lantern in the other. Jah, she was up to something. She never made them a bedtime drink. Alfie made up his mind then and there not to drink it. It was another trick.

  “All ready for bed?” Mamm asked, with pretend happiness in her voice. For sure and certain it was a trick. She could very well see they were ready for bed.

  “Ready, Mamm.” Alfie tucked his arms under the covers, just to be safe, and smiled as if he didn’t know what Mamm was up to. Ach, vell, he didn’t know what Mamm was up to, but he knew she was up to something.

  Benji’s cheeks bulged with the force of his cookie, and he chewed as fast and as secretly as he could. It was a big cookie.

  “It’s getting crowded down here,” Alfie said, to take Mamm’s attention off Benji’s chewing.

  Mamm glanced at the bookshelf and sighed. “I brought you some hot chocolate to help you sleep.” Maybe she hadn’t understood him. Maybe she was ignoring the bookshelf. Maybe she was hoping Benji and Alfie hadn’t noticed she’d stuck it down here.

  They’d noticed, all right. If there was an earthquake, it would fall over and kill both of them.

  She handed Benji a mug, and he drank three big gulps to wash down his cookie. Alfie pulled one hand from under the covers.