Sam winced. Rose shouldn’t feel obligated to make him a pie. “Don’t waste a pie on me. Find a boy you’re interested in and make one for him.”
Rose’s ears turned bright red. “I want to make a pie for you, but I can’t if you don’t tell me your favorite kind.”
“Okay, but make one for that boy you’re interested in too.”
She nodded enthusiastically. “Don’t worry. I will.”
“My favorite is pumpkin.”
Her face fell. “Pumpkin? I don’t like pumpkin. I’ll make you a peanut butter chocolate pie. Everybody loves my recipe.”
Sam didn’t especially like peanut butter, but if that’s what Rose wanted to make, his bruders would eat it. Sam finished hitching the mule team to the wagon and pulled his shovel and gloves from the wagon bed.
“What are you doing?” Rose said.
“I’m going to help fill up that hole. I brought another shovel if you want to help.”
A line appeared between her brows. “I thought you were only going to take out that rock. They can fill it back up by themselves.”
“I know, but I want to help.” He flashed her a smile. “It looks like they’re having a wunderbarr time.”
Rose’s whole face sort of puckered. “You just said you had to help take out the rock. You didn’t say anything about filling the hole. I was hoping you could take me home. We can spend more time together.” She put her hands behind her back, leaned closer, and swayed back and forth. “I need to make a pie. You’re going to love my peanut butter chocolate pie.”
“I need to help fill that hole.”
Rose cast a sour look in Elsie’s direction. “Wally shouldn’t be straining himself like that.”
“That’s why I need to stay.”
Rose flounced to the wagon and retrieved the other shovel. “Okay then, but I won’t have time to make a pie today.”
Sam gave her a good-natured smile. “I don’t mind. Save it for that boy you have your eye on.”
Rose laughed. “You are so funny, Sam Sensenig.”
He had no idea why she was so amused.
Chapter Twelve
Elsie stood on the pitcher’s mound and stared down Wally Sensenig. Prosthetic leg or no prosthetic leg, Wally had become a formidable hitter, and Elsie wasn’t about to go easy on him.
Wally had started wearing his prosthetic leg to school every day. After second recess he always took it off and used his crutches. The leg couldn’t have been comfortable, and Wally was still getting used to it.
From the first day, he had started hitting better with the prosthetic leg. Running was still slow and painful, but he hit farther and farther, and even for as awkwardly as he ran, he always made it to first base and sometimes to second.
They had spent an hour on Saturday filling in the hole on the first base line, and the diamond had never looked better. Sam had stayed the whole time, as had his friend Rose, who had taken a pointed dislike to Elsie. Elsie didn’t know why, except that Rose seemed the type of girl who needed a lot of attention, and Sam hadn’t paid Rose a lot of attention that day. Rose knew that Elsie and Sam had played softball together. If Rose and Sam were dating, Rose might be jealous, but Elsie couldn’t help that. If a girl didn’t want to be jealous, she should pick an ugly boyfriend.
Wally lifted his bat and grinned in Elsie’s direction. He was gaining confidence. Softball and his prosthetic leg were the reasons. Elsie nearly sighed out loud. Wally looked so much like his brother when he smiled. But it didn’t matter. If Sam and Rose Mast were boyfriend and girlfriend, Elsie didn’t care to get between them, no matter how handsome Sam Sensenig was.
“I’m going to hit it to the barn,” Wally said, pointing at the Millers’ barn at least a quarter mile behind the pitcher’s mound.
Elsie raised an eyebrow. “Not with one of my pitches, you won’t.”
Two days before, on Tuesday, Ida Mae Burkholder finally voiced what should have been obvious to all of them. It was the second inning, and Wally had ambled to a section of the outfield where the ball never got hit. He didn’t seem to mind. What he really wanted to do was hit. Ida Mae was pitching for Wally’s team, and after a few warm-up pitches, she stepped off the mound and looked at Wally’s section of the field. “Miss Stutzman,” she said, “why doesn’t Wally play first base?”
To Elsie, it was as if the clouds had parted and she was seeing the sun for the first time. Of course. She’d never thought of giving Wally the position of first baseman because until recently, he hadn’t been that eager to actually be part of the game. The first baseman rarely had to go anywhere but to the bag. Wally could do that on his prosthetic leg. She had turned to Lizzy Jane Mast, who had been playing first base. First was her position. Elsie would switch only if Lizzy agreed to surrender her base. “What do you think about that, Lizzy Jane?”
Lizzy Jane had shrugged. “I don’t care. Can I play third base?”
Reuben was playing third base, and he agreed to play catcher. The catcher traded for shortstop, and the shortstop, Tobias Raber, good-naturedly moved to the outfield.
Elsie nodded to Ida Mae. “Go ask Wally if he’d like to play first base.”
Wally had been so far in the outfield, he hadn’t heard a word they’d said. Ida Mae had hiked out to his spot and talked to him. Elsie hadn’t been able to hear what they were saying, but Wally’s expression had traveled between surprise and doubt and finally excitement. As quickly as he had been able to come, he jogged to first base, smiling all the way, and stationed himself a foot or two from the bag.
It had been the best idea since softball had been invented. Wally was just as good at catching the ball as hitting, even with three fingers missing on his left hand. He had caught everything thrown to him and only dropped the ball when Maizy Mischler hit. He always let Maizy on base.
Wally had played first base for two days now, and he was already the best infielder in the school. Elsie couldn’t have been more pleased if all her students had gotten 100 percent on their math papers.
Elsie decided to give Wally her fastest fast pitch. If he managed to hit it, it would go farther. She pitched it right down the middle, and Wally fanned up a stiff wind swinging at it.
“Strike one!” Reuben yelled, throwing the ball back to Elsie.
Elsie caught the ball and rolled it around with her fingers. “This one’s coming in fast again, Wally. Keep your eye on it.”
“You keep your eye on it,” Wally said, with more confidence than Elsie had ever seen from him. “I might hit you in the head.”
Elsie narrowed her eyes in mock suspicion. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
She pitched it again, and this time, Wally was ready for the speed. His bat made contact with the ball, which soared over Elsie’s head, whistling through the air like a firecracker. It went over everybody’s head, including Titus Nelson’s. He played far outfield because he couldn’t catch anything and nobody thought he’d ever have a chance that far out. The children seemed to hold their breath as the ball landed somewhere in the cornfield. Children screamed and cheered and made an incredible ruckus as all five outfielders raced to get the ball.
Wally raised both fists in the air. “Home run!” he yelled.
Elsie came a hair’s breadth away from jumping up and down and throwing her mitt in the air in exultation. Instead, she folded her arms and stared Wally down. It was time for one last challenge. “You still have to run the bases if you want it to count.”
Wally glared at her, pressed his lips into a determined line, and tossed his bat to the side. With long, purposeful strides, he walked as fast as he could to first base. Halfway there, his prosthetic leg slipped in the loose dirt, and he fell to the ground. He slapped his hand against the ground in frustration, and Elsie held her breath.
Dear Lord, please help him up. Please get him up.
Almost the instant he fell, Maizy Mischler was at his side. She patted both his cheeks, took his hand, and pulled him to his feet. Of course,
she didn’t really pull him—she was less than half his size—but she gave him the nudge and maybe the will he needed to stand again. Hand in hand, he and Maizy strode to first base. Elsie’s gaze traveled to the outfield. The outfielders had reached the cornfield. It was only a matter of time before they found that ball, and Wally and Maizy weren’t breaking any speed records.
She heard yelling from inside the cornfield. Someone had found Wally’s ball, and he and Maizy had barely made it to second. Johnny Wengerd, who was playing shortstop, threw his mitt to the ground. “Come on, Reuben, Jethro. Come on, help me!”
Jethro ran to Wally, grabbed his arm, and slung it over his shoulder. Reuben Schmucker as catcher ran to help, along with Tobias and Johnny, Mark Hoover, and Perry Sensenig. Wally called out as the six boys lifted him into the air and started running for third base.
The outfielders emerged from the cornfield, and Titus had the ball firmly in his fist. He handed it to Susie Miller, who had the stronger arm, and she threw it to the second baseman, who had run halfway out to the cornfield to cut off the ball.
The boys, with Wally in tow and Maizy following close behind, rounded third base. Reuben looked over his shoulder as the second baseman threw the ball toward home. “Run, run!” Reuben screamed.
The boys grew wings on their feet. Elsie had never seen anything like it. She gasped as they dove for the plate. There was a fantastic crash of legs and arms and bodies as Wally reached out his hand and smacked home plate right before the ball got there.
“Safe!” Reuben yelled, from flat on his back.
Jethro and the other boys jumped to their feet and cheered as if they’d won a million dollars. Wally rolled onto his back and lifted his fists above his head in a victory salute. Maizy jumped on top of him, and he laughed and gave her a big hug. All the children from both teams sprinted to home plate, squealing and carrying on, jumping up and down and hugging each other. They had all hit a home run today, and they knew it.
Elsie stood alone on the pitcher’s mound and sniffed back the threatening tears. It would do no good for her students to see a moment of vulnerability from their teacher. She still had a class to teach. Besides, Wally’s triumph would be that much better if he thought he’d irritated his teacher instead of inspired her.
She wished Sam had been here to see it.
* * *
“Okay, class,” Elsie said. She rang the large bell that sat on her desk. “It’s time to go home. Please be sure your desks are clean and your rows are straight.”
The last two hours of the day had been completely wasted. The children were too excited about their softball game to concentrate on anything, even singing time. Ringing the bell was like starting a race to escape from school. The classroom exploded, and children hurried out as fast as they could, as if they might get a prize for arriving home first.
The six boys who had carried Wally home had a few scabs and bruises for their trouble, and Elsie had exhausted her supply of ice packs after recess. Jethro had scraped his elbow. Tobias’s eyebrow had met with Johnny Wengerd’s knee. The collision hadn’t broken the skin, but he had a nice goose egg to prove that something important had happened at school today. Wally had scratched the side of his face diving for home plate, but he didn’t seem to notice it. Elsie hoped it didn’t keep him from sleeping tonight.
While the other children headed in the other direction, Wally limped to the front of the class to Elsie’s desk. “You’ve never thrown it to me that fast before, Miss Stutzman. I didn’t know if I could hit it.”
Elsie shrugged. “I didn’t want you to hit it. That was my fastest pitch.”
Wally’s eyes lit up like a pair of stars. “I guess I showed you.”
“I guess you did,” she said. She closed her notebook and pinned Wally with a significant look. “You have some wonderful-nice friends, you know.”
Wally gave her a crooked smile and nodded. “I know.”
“That’s even better than a home run, don’t you think?”
Wally swiped his hand across his eyes. “Jah. I guess it is.”
Chapter Thirteen
Dear Sam,
I think we’re going to have to go about this a different way. The first thing is, you need to break it off with Rose Mast. She is a very sweet girl, but if you are going to marry my granddaughter, you can’t have a girlfriend. Secondly, I am sending Felty to your house with a pumpkin pie baked by my granddaughter. She thinks she made it for one of my Englisch neighbors, but I was secretly having her make it for you. I always say, the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. So, please enjoy the pie and think of my granddaughter while you’re eating it, then remember that there is lots more where that came from. I will contact you in a few days to see how you liked the pie and then we can make plans from there.
Much love,
Anna Helmuth
P.S. One of my granddaughters had a baby and I have been knitting a blanket for her, so I have not had time to make more pot holders to send to you. Please don’t hold this against my granddaughter. Most boys would take her without any pot holders whatsoever.
Sam’s feet felt almost too heavy to lift as he trudged up the steps to the school. Despite his low mood, his heart did a little skip as he ascended the stairs into the classroom. It had been nearly a week since he’d seen Elsie. Being with her would be the only bright spot of another rotten day.
Sam didn’t know how his life could get much worse. Not only was one of his cows sick, but Rose Mast had brought him a peanut butter chocolate pie, Mamm hadn’t been out of bed for three days, and Anna Helmuth wasn’t going to give up on her scheme to marry him to her granddaughter. And now this. He slipped his hand into his pocket and fingered the paper there. Just when he had hoped things were going well with Wally. The only bright spot of his week was the pumpkin pie from Anna Helmuth’s mysterious granddaughter. Too bad he didn’t want anything to do with her.
Elsie sat at her desk reading a textbook. Chalk dusted her hair, her face, her apron. She was an untidy, rumpled, beautiful sight. Sam felt better just breathing her in. He wasn’t close enough, but he could almost smell the lavender on her skin and the lilac scent of her hair. It drove him crazy with anticipation.
She looked up and smiled, and it felt like spring again. “Sam.” There was so much joy in her voice, he almost forgot why he was upset. Almost. Her smile faded. “Is everything okay?”
“Not really.”
She stood and came to him, as if she could solve all his problems if he’d just let her. “What happened? Is Wally all right? What about Perry and Danny?” When he didn’t respond, she took his arm, pulled him to a chair in the corner, and nudged him to sit. She pulled up the chair from her desk and sat next to him. She studied his face. “I’d really appreciate it if you said something.” She tilted her head to meet his eye. “That is why you came, isn’t it?”
He heaved a great sigh. “I’m the worst bruder in the world.”
One side of her mouth curled up. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that. What about Esau? What about Cain? What about Joseph’s brothers? They sold him into slavery. I can think of at least a dozen bruders who are worse than you.”
Sam cracked a smile. “I’d really appreciate it if you just let me wallow in my self-pity for a minute.”
She leaned back and folded her arms. “Okay. Go ahead and wallow, but I’d like to be home for dinner by five. Do you want to lock up?”
Sam pulled the sheet of notebook paper from his pocket and handed it to Elsie. She read over it. “This is a grocery list,” she said, a question alight in her eyes.
Sam nodded. “Maggie was washing dishes, so she asked Wally to write out a list for her. This is what he wrote.”
Realization dawned on her face. It was just as he expected. Elsie wasn’t surprised at all. “You’re wondering why an eighth grader doesn’t know how to spell biscuit dough or oranges.”
Sam motioned to the list. “He doesn’t know how to spell anything.”
Elsie
folded the sheet of paper and gave it back to Sam. “Nae, he doesn’t.”
“How long have you known?”
“Ach, after the first week of school I have a gute idea of what my students can do. Wally is behind in all his subjects, but I didn’t want to tell you yet. You have about a hundred things to worry about, and Wally’s schoolwork isn’t the most important thing right now. Wally has to want to learn. His teachers have let him get away with being lazy for so long, he doesn’t even remember what hard work looks like.”
“It isn’t his teachers’ fault, Elsie. It’s me. It’s all me.”
Elsie propped her elbows on her knees. “This is why I didn’t tell you. You take too much on yourself. Everyone has contributed to the way Wally is, but it’s nobody’s fault. It’s hard not to feel sorry for him.”
“But I let him get away with so much. If his teachers tried to push him, I pushed back. I wanted to make things easy on him, and now Danny can read better than Wally can.”
“Danny is one of the best readers in his grade.”
This should have made Sam feel better, but it didn’t. He had no idea how Perry and Danny were doing in school or who their friends were or even whether they were happy or miserable. A growl came from deep in his throat. He had let Wally’s problems overshadow his responsibility to the rest of the family. “I’ve been so worried about Wally that I’ve all but ignored Perry and Danny. And Maggie too.”
“You take too much on yourself, Sam. Perry and Danny are doing fine yet. They’re both wonderful nice boys and smart as tacks. Maggie has you for a bruder. I don’t wonder but she’s doing fine too.”
Sam didn’t feel much better. “I’ve neglected them.”
She scrunched her lips to one side of her face. “The boys come to school in clean clothes every day. They say please and thank you, and it looks like somebody combs their hair in the morning before school. You’re doing fine, Sam.”
“Not with Wally.”
“Wally too. As soon as you understood his problem, you were willing to do whatever you needed to do to help. It is the harder way, but it’s obvious you’d do anything for your bruder.”
A Courtship on Huckleberry Hill Page 13