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Becoming Bea

Page 9

by Leslie Gould


  Hope nodded as she blushed.

  Then Don looked at me. “Beatrice,” he said. “So good to see you again.”

  My face warmed, and before I could think of what to say, Asher began to fuss again, turning his head toward me.

  “I hope I’ll be seeing more of you,” Don said above the baby’s cries. I gave a polite nod and Don kept on walking.

  “Mervin,” Ben called out. “Come get your stuff!” He stood in the middle of a pile of sleeping bags, duffel bags, and boxes. Didn’t he know no one was paying attention to him?

  I turned toward Hope. “We should go check on Nan.”

  She ignored me, whispering something to Martin.

  “Hope,” I said, “go get the squash.”

  She gave me a hurt look and said, “You sound like Ben.”

  My heart fell as Mervin and Martin both laughed. “I’ll help you,” Martin said to Hope, and off they went toward the garden, practically skipping. I headed toward the house, bouncing both babies as I did.

  “Ach, hello to you too, Bea,” Ben called out.

  I couldn’t wave because my hands were full. I also didn’t bother to tell him to use my full name. That would only get more of a laugh out of the others. I kept on walking.

  When Hope finally joined me in the kitchen, I said, “Why didn’t you tell me Ben was working here?”

  She simply said, “I thought you knew.”

  The mouth-watering scent of the steaks barbecuing filled the kitchen. Hope stood idle at the open door, a smile breaking across her face.

  “Who’s out there?” I teased, approaching with a stack of plates.

  She took the plates from me. “Just Martin.” She smiled. “Coming this way with Phillip.”

  Thank goodness Ben wasn’t with them.

  “Come back in and get the glasses.” I headed to the oven and took the potatoes out, placing them on a platter and covering them with a towel.

  Cate called from the staircase, “Can you come get Leah?”

  I hurried down the hall and up the stairs, passing Cate, who held the boys. “Denki. That will give Nan a few minutes.”

  The baby was in her bassinet fussing, and Nan was in the bathroom. I picked up the little girl and walked carefully down the stairs with her. By the time I reached the kitchen, Cate had the crew parading through, gathering up all the needed items, and heading back out again. But there was still no Ben. Perhaps he’d gone home. I could dream, at least.

  Once all the food had been placed on the table, Bob led us in a silent prayer. He dished up first, heaping food on a plate, and then slipped back into the house with it. I guessed he intended to share the food with Nan.

  Still, Ben didn’t appear.

  I turned toward my friend as she positioned herself behind Martin in line. “Hope, you should let Cate go first.”

  “I’m fine,” Cate said, sitting down in one of the lawn chairs with Asher and Kurt. The babies fussed a little but she jiggled them up and down until they settled.

  “Denki,” Hope said. “I’ll eat quickly.”

  I sat beside Cate, holding Leah, while the others dished up and then gathered around the picnic table.

  I heard Ben before I saw him. “It would have been nice for someone to tell me it was time to eat.”

  “Everyone else seemed to be able to figure it out,” I said.

  He stopped in the middle of the yard. “Ach,” he said. “It’s Missy D-I-S-D-A-I-N.”

  Mervin chuckled. “Definition, please.”

  “Missy—a disparaging form of address to a female who is not married,” Ben replied. “Disdain—full of contempt, scorn, derision, and disrespect.”

  My face grew warm, and I could feel splotches forming on my neck.

  “The opposite of courteous,” Ben added.

  “Believe me,” I replied, “I’m plenty courteous with everyone but you.”

  Ben crossed his arms. “Isn’t that a coincidence? All the girls—except for you—respect me. Too bad I’m not looking to court any of them.”

  I replied, “It’s a B-L-E-S-S-I-N-G for them you aren’t. Blessing—” I couldn’t resist. “God’s favor and protection.”

  Don hooted. “She’s got the last word on that one.”

  Ben headed toward the food table, muttering, “I wish my horse moved as fast as her mouth.”

  “I heard that,” I answered. “And you’ve said that before.” Back when we were all camping summer before last, with the Youngie. Not that I was keeping track. “Can’t you come up with something original?”

  Ben held up his hands. One clasped his empty plate.

  That was so like him to back out of an argument.

  Hope frowned. A crow cawed from the oak tree. I realized I was patting Leah’s back a little too vigorously and stopped. The baby began to fuss. I began again, but gentler.

  Ben finished filling his plate and sat down with the others, his back to me.

  I bristled. Cate shook her head and leaned toward me. “Try to ignore him,” she said. “He’s just trying to get your goat.”

  “He should know by now that I can kick.”

  “Jah,” she said. “I think we all know that.”

  My face grew warmer.

  “I don’t mean that in a bad way. It’s just that you’re usually so sweet and gentle—except around Ben.”

  “I have my reasons,” I said.

  “I’m sure you do.”

  Don elbowed Ben and, looking straight at me, said, “I like her style.”

  I did my best to ignore them both.

  After everyone had eaten except for me, Hope and I took the babies back into the house and up to Nan and Bob. “I’ll be back after I eat,” I said. “And then I’ll put away the food.” Hope and I could do the dishes later.

  There was no reason for me to eat outside, so I began carrying the food in. The rest of the boys must have gone with Pete to the shop, but Martin and Ben still sat at the table. I couldn’t help but overhear snippets of their conversation as I traipsed in and out of the house.

  Martin asked, “What do you think of Hope?”

  I stopped on the steps to the kitchen, the pasta salad in my hands.

  “Hope?” Ben’s voice was louder than Martin’s. “Is she the same girl you were talking to Sunday before last?”

  Martin’s voice fell. “Stop teasing me.”

  “Ach,” Ben replied. “Do you want my honest answer? Or do you want me to criticize her, as I seem to do so well these days?”

  “Neither,” Martin answered. “It doesn’t matter what you say. I think she’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever known.”

  His voice came closer. “Marry her, then,” Ben said, his tone flippant.

  I hurried on into the kitchen.

  When I came back out, Phillip, Martin, and Ben stood together at the edge of the lawn.

  Ben stood with arms crossed and feet spread wide. “You guessed right,” he said to Phillip. “Martin has fallen in love.”

  I beelined for the table, concentrating on listening, sneaking a glance at the group.

  Phillip had his arm around Martin, pulling him close and yanking his hat from his head. “How sweet,” he said. “Are you ready to talk to Bob?”

  Martin pulled away, plucking his hat from Phillip’s hand. “Not yet.”

  “I’ll mention it,” Phillip said. “Tonight while we’re working. And tell you his reaction.”

  Ben yawned dramatically.

  “Just wait,” Phillip said, “soon enough it will be your turn.”

  “That would be as likely as a snowstorm tonight,” Ben said, wiping his brow.

  Phillip grabbed Ben by both shoulders and began to shake him. “When it happens, we’ll all remember the fuss you’ve made.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh, drawing their attention. I hurried back to the steps, dashing into the house. From the window over the sink, I watched the boys head toward the shop.

  “Why the sad face?”

  I spun aroun
d. Cate stood to the side of me.

  “Sad? I’m not sad,” I answered. “I was just thinking . . .”

  “About?”

  I answered, “Martin and Hope.”

  “Ach,” she said. “They seem to be a good match.” She continued on to the back door. “But you can be happy for Hope and sad for yourself.”

  I shook my head. “But I’m not sad for myself. Not at all.”

  Cate gave me a sympathetic smile. “I’m going out to the office for a bit—less than an hour. Nan’s extra tired, so come get me if you need to.”

  I assured her I would.

  Chapter

  7

  As Hope and I washed the bottles before we headed off to bed, Pete stuck his head in the back door, requesting we take a snack out to the boys. “I’m hoping to get another two hours of work out of them,” he said. “A plate of cookies and a pitcher of milk might do the trick.”

  Hope nearly squealed in delight.

  I, on the other hand, couldn’t help but be aware that we might be up giving babies their bottles in another three hours. “Let’s hurry,” I said. Fortunately I’d baked the batches of oatmeal cookies the day before. I grabbed the plastic container, the size of a shoebox, from the cupboard because I hadn’t gotten them down to the freezer yet. I pulled a stack of paper cups from the pantry shelf as I instructed Hope—who seemed to be becoming more and more oblivious to what needed to be done—to get the milk.

  Darkness had chased away the warmth of the day, and it had grown downright chilly, especially without our capes. Woodsmoke mixed with the sweet scent of apples from the trees on the slope above the garden filled the air. Pete had already picked several basketfuls and stored the apples in the cold room in the basement, and I imagined the boys helped themselves straight from the trees on break. Besides picking the rest of the ones on the tree, Hope and I needed to collect the fruit that had fallen to the ground and was about to rot. I added Make applesauce and apple butter to my ongoing mental to-do list.

  Above, the stars shone bright—thousands and thousands of them. I breathed in deeply again, full of gratefulness for everything. My new friendship with Hope. The opportunity to help Nan and Bob. The beautiful night. The autumn weather.

  Everything except for Ben being on the premises.

  I sighed, but Hope didn’t seem to notice, because the shop door swung open and revealed Martin with some sort of light behind him in the hallway.

  She pranced toward him.

  “Ach.” He started toward her. “Pete said you’d be bringing a snack.” He took the milk from Hope, and we followed him into the building. A light bulb shone from the hallway ceiling.

  Hope pointed up at it.

  “Solar,” Martin said to her. “Haven’t you noticed the panels on top of the building? It’s what runs the power tools. And the fax machine and computer in Cate’s office.”

  I followed Martin and Hope down the hall and into the shop. A fine sawdust filled the air. The men all wore masks, but I tucked my mouth and nose against my shoulder. I wished I could plug my ears against the whine of the machines.

  Bob and Phillip talked in the corner, their masks hanging. When Bob saw us, he pointed toward the door. “We’ll meet you in the break room,” he said.

  I didn’t know where that was and Martin didn’t budge as he continued to stare at Phillip and Bob.

  “Come on.” I started toward the hallway.

  Ben strode toward us, pulling his mask from his face and then taking plugs out of his ears. “I’ll show you.”

  “Take the milk from Martin,” I told him. “Before it turns into a sawdust shake.”

  Ben complied, barely garnering Martin’s attention.

  I nudged Hope. “Come on.”

  She followed, reluctantly, and Don and Mervin followed right away. By the time we reached the break room, Martin was behind them. The boys each grabbed several cookies and downed the milk, although Don poured himself a cup of coffee from the machine on the counter. Bob, Pete, and Phillip didn’t come get a snack at all. By the time the others were done, Phillip finally stepped into the break room. “Back to work,” he said, looking directly at Martin.

  It seemed he was some sort of crew boss. Or perhaps he was just the self-appointed leader of the group.

  The boys trailed out of the room, and Phillip grabbed two cookies. I poured the rest of the milk into a glass for him and then put the lid on the cookie container, moving it to the middle of the table. Perhaps they’d finish them off later.

  Phillip waved toward the outside door. “Hope, could I speak to you for a moment?”

  She nodded and followed him. I stacked the used cups and picked up the empty pitcher, trailing the two as far as the picnic table, where they sat down. I hesitated for a moment, not sure if I should stay or keep going.

  Light flooded out from the shop behind me, and thinking I’d failed to latch the door, I turned to go back. Martin stood in the doorway, watching Hope, his jaw set and his arms crossed. I continued on to the house and into the kitchen. After I’d washed the pitcher, Hope still hadn’t returned so I slipped my cape over my shoulders and grabbed Hope’s, taking it out to her.

  She and Phillip were deep in conversation. I didn’t interrupt as I handed her the cape.

  “Denki,” she said.

  Phillip didn’t stop talking—about the camping trip and hunt. Not about Martin at all. Could it be that Phillip was trying to court Hope? Breaking up with Jessie was the stupidest thing he’d ever done, in my humble opinion—until now.

  The door to the shop was shut, and Martin was nowhere to be seen. I yawned. Phillip didn’t seem to notice.

  I yawned again and then said, “Hope needs to get to bed. We have babies to feed soon. And breakfast to prepare in the morning.”

  “Oh.” Phillip looked up at me in surprise.

  “And don’t you need to be helping the others?”

  “I already finished my part,” he answered.

  The shop door opened again. This time Don stood in the doorway. “Let’s go stay at Dat’s,” he said to Phillip.

  Phillip stood. “I’d rather stay here.”

  “Suit yourself,” Don said.

  “How are you getting there?” Phillip started toward his brother.

  “I’ll walk. If I cut through the fields it won’t take long.” He started toward the Dawdi Haus, most likely to get his bag. “See all of you in the morning,” he said.

  “Come on.” I tugged on Hope’s cape. “We should see if Nan needs any help. And then get to sleep.”

  “Jah,” Don said as he breezed by. “The young ladies mustn’t miss out on their beauty sleep.”

  It was a silly thing to say, but I was too tired to be annoyed with Don. Hope had my full attention.

  I found her arm and yanked. “Come on.”

  Hope and I didn’t talk that night, because I ended up giving Asher a bottle and she was fast asleep by the time I came to bed. In the morning I woke, wondering if I’d dreamt that I gave Kurt a bottle sometime around three a.m. Probably not.

  By the time I reached the kitchen at five twenty, Hope had already started the bacon, and it was sizzling on the stove as she washed her hands, staring out the window a moment longer than necessary, looking for the boys most likely. It was pitch-dark out, but she must have been able to see something—or maybe sense when Martin was near.

  Bob padded into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee, yawning as he did.

  I pulled out the griddle from the vertical cupboard, one of the fancy features of the Millers’ kitchen, and put it on the stove to warm as I mixed the batter. Hope stayed at the window as she dried her hands.

  “The bacon . . .” I finally said.

  She didn’t seem to hear me, but when she smiled, I knew the boys were on their way. Mervin came in first. Then Ben. Thankfully, he didn’t say anything. He simply collapsed into a chair. Mervin grabbed two mugs and filled them with coffee. Next Phillip came in.

  Hope ke
pt staring out the window.

  “The bacon,” I said again, this time not as gently.

  “Oh.” She stepped back to the stove and quickly turned it.

  Between flipping hotcakes I pulled down a stack of plates and handed them to Mervin. “Pass these around,” I said.

  Hope stepped to the kitchen window again. Still no Martin. Or Don. But maybe he planned to eat breakfast at home.

  Hope gave me a pleading look that had Martin written all over it.

  “Where is he?” I whispered to Mervin.

  “Who?” he asked in a normal tone. Everyone looked at me.

  “Your brother,” I answered. “Remember, that being that was born the same day as you.”

  Mervin shrugged. “He got up before any of us. I don’t know where he went.”

  As Hope and I put the food on the table, Bob asked Phillip if he’d talked to Martin the night before.

  “About . . . ?” Phillip asked as he stabbed several hotcakes and slid them onto his plate.

  “What we talked through.” Bob nodded his head toward Hope.

  “Oh, that,” Phillip answered, reaching for the butter. “No, I didn’t have a chance.”

  I doubted that. Phillip was interested in Hope.

  She gave me a pleading look.

  “I’ll go find Martin,” I whispered. “You take care of things in here.”

  I grabbed my cape and a flashlight by the back door and slipped out into the darkness. Because none of the others had seen him, I didn’t go to the Dawdi Haus. Instead I headed behind the barn, dodging a calico cat probably just back from her hunt, and then I headed toward the creek.

  I stopped at the edge of the sycamore grove, waving the flashlight around. The limbs of the trees, nearly bare now, cast eerie shadows in the beam of light. Below the grove, I could see the creek, which divided the Millers’ property from Cap Cramer’s farm. Hannah was staying with them. I was surprised she hadn’t been over the evening before, but because Mervin had returned I expected her by noon today, at the latest.

  I exhaled slowly, sending a cloud of vapor out from my face. “Martin,” I called out.

  I turned toward the sound of a twig snapping.

  “Everyone’s eating breakfast.” I shone the light toward the noise, hoping it was Martin. My heart skipped a beat. What if it was someone else?

 

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