Home on Huckleberry Hill

by Jennifer Beckstrand

  “She needs a spoon.” With two spoons in his hand, Jethro pulled his chair even closer than Mammi’s. He handed Mary Anne one spoon and raised the second spoon in the air. “Can I have a bite?”

  Mary Anne curled one side of her mouth. Jethro was so kind. “Of course.”

  “Now, Jethro,” Mammi said. “It’s Mary Anne’s birthday cake. Let her eat it.”

  Desperation bubbled up inside her. If Jethro ate some, she might just be able to get through this without hurting Mammi’s feelings. “But I want to share it with him, Mammi. He gave me the most wunderbarr birthday present, and he . . . he’s my husband, after all.”

  Mammi seemed overjoyed to find out that Jethro was Mary Anne’s husband, or maybe she was just overjoyed that Mary Anne would admit it. She smiled so hard, her wrinkles piled up like gathered fabric. “Of course he’s your husband. Let him eat as much as you want.”

  Mary Anne glanced at Jethro. His eyes were all soft and mushy, as if she’d given him back his two hundred dollars plus a new tackle box. Why did he have to look at her like that? It had been a perfectly fine birthday party. She didn’t need him to complicate things with his unmistakable admiration.

  So he loved her. Why should she care?

  Her throat tightened, and she could barely draw a breath. She cared, all right. She cared more than she wanted to admit, but she wouldn’t fall in love with Jethro again. She wouldn’t. He’d eaten his weight in Cheetos and helped her plant flowers, but no matter how kind or lovable or good looking he was, she wasn’t about to rearrange her plans to include him.

  He nudged his foot against hers, and she immediately forgot every last plan she had. She hadn’t sought his touch for years, but suddenly there it was, the deep longing to savor his lips against hers and feel his strong, capable arms around her. She shouldn’t need him like this, not when the life she’d always wanted was within her reach. But with his foot grazing hers, she found it impossible to talk herself out of him.

  “I know Jethro is your husband, Mary Anne,” Mammi said. “But I still think you should take the first bite.”

  Mary Anne pried her gaze from Jethro’s mouth. “Okay.” She skimmed a little dough off the top and put it in her mouth. It wasn’t bad if you liked undercooked cake. Some people loved licking the batter out of the bowl. “Appeditlich,” she said.

  Jethro grinned at Mammi and took the entire grapefruit from Mary Anne. It had cooled down enough that he didn’t burn himself. He scooped a generous, dripping spoonful right from the heart of the grapefruit and shoved it into his mouth. Mary Anne could almost hear it slide down his throat.

  Mammi’s smile grew wider and her wrinkles grew bunchier. “Now, Jethro. Save a little for Mary Anne.”

  Jethro tilted the grapefruit so Mary Anne could stick her spoon in and get a little bite, little enough to lick it off the spoon with her tongue. Jethro winked at her and ate another giant spoonful of goo. Mary Anne was so grateful, she could have kissed him right in front of Judy, Dennis, and the in-laws.

  Jethro ended up eating nearly the whole thing, while Mary Anne got away with three piddly bites. Her stomach was more grateful than Jethro would ever know. He had always been thoughtful that way, even though she hadn’t seen that side of him for several months.

  Mammi smiled and stifled a yawn. “I suppose that’s the end of the party.”

  “It was wonderful gute, Mammi. Denki.”

  “The rat-a-tat stew was delicious, and Sarah was especially glad it didn’t have rats in it.”

  Judy stood and folded up her chair. “You could serve that ratatouille at a fancy French restaurant, Mary Anne. It was that good. Your grandma isn’t the only one who knows a thing or two about cooking.”

  Jethro gathered up the rest of the trash and took it to the barn, where they stored it every night. They hadn’t seen a bear yet, but they didn’t want to attract any if they could help it. The chickens were going to be enough of a headache.

  Mammi stirred the coals while Dawdi fetched some water from the hose to douse the fire.

  “Denki for inviting us to your party. I know you didn’t want to.” How had Lois managed to slip into Jethro’s chair without Mary Anne noticing?

  “You’re welcome,” Mary Anne said. She wasn’t going to deny that she hadn’t wanted her in-laws to come to the party. She didn’t want her in-laws in camp at all, but they had behaved themselves until now, so she couldn’t really complain. She glanced in Willie Jay’s direction. He sat on the edge of his seat, bouncing one knee up and down as if he couldn’t contain his indignation much longer. Mary Anne sincerely hoped he wouldn’t explode. Not on her birthday.

  Lois glanced in the direction Jethro had gone, then snatched Mary Anne’s hand and squeezed it like a lifeline. “Mary Anne, I would never say anything to upset you, but I’m begging you to move back home. Your husband needs you. You must see how terribly he is suffering.”

  Mary Anne pressed her lips together. She didn’t want to have this conversation, especially now, when her heart had softened toward Jethro. He did love her and he was suffering, but Lois had no call to bring it up tonight.

  Mary Anne tried to stand up and escape, but Lois just squeezed tighter, like a dying woman grasping for air. “Mary Anne, I know life with Jethro has been hard. He’s like his fater, and I know how hard that can be to live with. But you don’t give up on someone just because it gets hard. You gave up too easy. You moved out instead of staying and doing the hard work you needed to do to save your marriage. It was the same with the buplie. After the doctor told you that you couldn’t have another one, you gave up even trying. You could have at least given the doctors more of a chance before depriving Jethro of a child.”

  Mary Anne’s tongue dried out as if she’d swallowed a bag of sand. Of course Lois blamed her for the buplie. Lois loved Jethro too much to ever believe it was his fault. “How . . . how can you say that? You know very well I didn’t give up on a buplie. Chris told Jethro that you had discussed it and had decided it was a waste of money to keep trying. Chris said it was better not to spend the money on doctors and tests, especially when it wasn’t likely we’d ever get pregnant anyway. Jethro gave up. Not me.” Mary Anne shut her mouth before her voice betrayed her. She had to blink rapidly just to keep the tears from falling.

  Her hopes for a buplie had been dashed because Jethro and his parents had agreed it would cost too much to try for one. Gruyère cheese was too much money. Paint was too much money. Flowers were too much money. A buplie was too much money. Was it any wonder Mary Anne hated the very word?

  Jethro had put a price tag on her happiness and decided it was too expensive.

  Lois’s eyebrows inched closer and closer together. She loosened her grip around Mary Anne’s fingers. “What are you talking about?”

  “It’s always about how much a thing costs.” They had crushed every last hope Mary Anne had cherished.

  Lois stood up as if she couldn’t contain whatever emotion was bottled inside her. “I never said that.”

  “Never said what?” Jethro had come back from the barn, and he stood ten feet from the fire as stiff as a post, his gaze darting between his mamm and Mary Anne. For sure and certain he was on his guard—from his mamm or his fraa, Mary Anne couldn’t tell. “Mamm,” he said. “It’s time for you to go back to the tent.”

  Lois jabbed a finger in her husband’s direction. “What did you do in my name, Chris Neuenschwander? What did you tell our son?”

  Chris sat behind and to Mary Anne’s left so she couldn’t see his face, and she wasn’t about to turn around to look.

  “What are you so worked up about, woman?” Chris said. Mary Anne had always been grateful that Jethro had never talked to her that way. Chris sounded as if he didn’t give Lois credit for a brain in her head.

  Lois didn’t back down, not an inch. Mary Anne had always admired her tenacity, except when Mary Anne was the recipient of her sharp tongue and stubborn persistence. “Did you advise Jethro not to spend the mone
y on infertility treatments?”

  Mary Anne heard Chris shift on his camp chair. “The doctors charge an arm and a leg and make impossible promises.”

  Lois’s breathing became fast and labored. “Four years ago I told you to take the three thousand dollars out of our account and give it to Jethro for infertility treatments.”

  Mary Anne’s heart pounded so hard she could feel her pulse in her teeth. Lois had wanted to give them three thousand dollars? Hadn’t she thought trying to get pregnant was a waste of money?

  “You wanted to give us money?” Jethro said.

  Lois ignored Jethro. Her focus was squarely on Chris. “You told me Jethro refused it. You insisted that I never talk about it again. You said I’d hurt Mary Anne’s feelings.”

  Lois had no doubt gotten the attention of everyone trying to sleep in a tent, all the nearby dogs, and the chickens roaming the woods. Mammi stopped stirring the smoldering coals and pointed her stick in Lois’s direction. It was still smoking. “You tell him, Lois. It’s time to get to the bottom of this.”

  “What did you do, Chris?” Lois asked again.

  Chris muttered something Mary Anne couldn’t understand.

  “Can you speak up, Chris?” Lois said. It wasn’t a request.

  Chris hissed his annoyance. “One of us had to be sensible. We needed that money for emergencies.”

  Mary Anne wouldn’t have been surprised to see daggers shooting out of Lois’s eyes. She seemed to get closer to Chris even though she hadn’t taken a step toward him. “You told Jethro treatments were a waste of money?”

  Chris grunted. “He agreed with me. In vitro, or whatever you call it, costs twenty thousand dollars.”

  Lois turned on Jethro, as if he was her worst enemy. “You agreed with him?”

  Jethro’s expression was a mixture of shame and horror. “Jah. I . . . I just thought . . .”

  “You just thought what? That your fraa would forgive you for loving Mammon more than her?”

  Jethro searched Mary Anne’s face, but she wasn’t sure what he was looking for. Compassion maybe? She pressed her fingers to her forehead, but there was no stopping the headache that had already started.

  Jethro took a step back as if she had shoved him, even though she was a dozen feet away. “The miscarriage alone cost two thousand dollars. Dat and I agreed that the doctors would bleed us dry before we ever got a buplie.”

  Lois folded her arms across her chest. “And what did Mary Anne want?”

  Jethro lowered his eyes. “I didn’t ask her.”

  Lois was like a tornado trapped in a canning jar. “You didn’t ask her?”

  It felt as if a shard of glass lodged right between Mary Anne’s ribs. To Jethro, she was an inconvenience, someone who spent money they didn’t have and couldn’t even give him a buplie. At times, he hadn’t even seen her as a person.

  “I’m sorry,” Jethro whispered.

  “Sorry won’t keep you warm on a cold night.” Lois’s tornado seemed to come to rest. She huffed out a breath and dropped her hands to her sides. “Felty, could you help me with my tent?”

  “For sure and certain, Lois. Are you calling it quits?”

  Lois shook her head. “I’m moving to Mary Anne’s side of the camp. Chris, you’ll have to sleep in Jethro’s tent.”

  “Now, Lois,” Chris said, his voice rising to a whine. “Don’t be like that. If you’re going to move, at least let me come with you. I can protect you from bears.”

  Lois shot him a red-hot glare. “Don’t bother. I’d rather be eaten.”

  “But Lois, you said yourself it’s wicked for a wife to leave her husband.”

  Lois nodded. “I did say that, and as soon as you take the beam out of your own eye, I’ll see what I can do about moving back in. Until then, you can make your own breakfast.”

  Willie Jay uttered the first words Mary Anne had heard from him all night. “Don’t make a rash decision just because you’re angry, Mamm. You don’t want to lose your eternal reward. Mary Anne has poisoned enough of the family already.”

  “Shut your mouth, Willie Jay,” Jethro snapped. Mary Anne held her breath. She had never heard Jethro talk to his bruder that way.

  To his credit, Willie Jay shut up. Maybe he figured he couldn’t chastise Mary Anne without dragging his mamm into it. And Willie Jay wasn’t likely to take on his mater.

  Without another word, Lois stormed away, no doubt wanting to get her tent moved before Chris or Willie Jay tried to stop her. Chris jumped to his feet and jogged after her. Willie Jay growled, took down their camp chairs, and lumbered back to his campsite.

  Jethro hadn’t moved for a good three minutes. She wished he’d stop staring at her. “Mary Anne, I want to explain . . .”

  “Ach,” Mammi said, waving the smoldering stick in his direction. “It’s too late for explanations, Jethro. Go back to your tent and think on your sins. Everything will look better in the morning.”

  “But . . .”

  “Don’t you worry. Felty and I will put out the fire and see that Mary Anne gets to bed at a decent time. Dennis is going to teach us how to do landscapes tomorrow. Mary Anne has been looking forward to it.”

  Vell, she had been looking forward to painting tomorrow, but right now, she couldn’t even muster enough enthusiasm to stand up.

  Jethro hesitated, seemingly a bit surprised at how quickly Mammi had dismissed him. “But . . .”

  “You’ve always been a little thick, Jethro,” Mammi said, making her voice louder, as if hoping he’d understand her better. “I tell you, it’s time to go to bed. Things always look better in the morning, and you’ve got to find your dat a place to sleep.”

  Jethro looked at Mary Anne as if he wanted her to save him, but she couldn’t bear the thought of trying to come up with one more pleasant thing to say to him tonight. Something painful flickered in his eyes, but he seemed to give up whatever he was struggling against. He walked toward his campsite, passing within three feet of her, but she wouldn’t look at him. Her mammi was wonderful wise, but Mary Anne couldn’t imagine how things would look better in the morning. Even with Mammi and Dawdi standing there, she felt more alone than she had ever felt in her life.

  Dawdi handed Mammi a bucket of water, and she poured it over the fire. The coals hissed, and a cloud of smoke rose into the air. “Well, now, what an exciting birthday party,” Mammi said. “All things considered, I think that went very well. I hope you had a gute time, Mary Anne.”

  Mary Anne smiled as best she could. Lord willing, it was too dark for Mammi to notice the tears glistening in her eyes or her hands gripping the armrests for dear life.

  Mandy would say Lois had ruined the party, but Mary Anne couldn’t be anything but grateful. Just as Mary Anne had been wavering, Lois had reminded Mary Anne why she would never go back.

  It was the best gift anyone could have given her.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Mary Anne woke with a start and sat straight up from her pillow. Had she heard something? She rubbed her hand across her forehead and tried to calm her racing heart. She’d been dreaming that Willie Jay had locked her in the Porta-Potty and was singing “Das Loblied” to her at the top of his lungs. She couldn’t decide if she considered it a nightmare or just an irritation. Irritation was often the emotion she felt for Willie Jay.

  She pulled her feet from the sleeping bag and swung them onto the ground. It was pitch black inside her tent—no doubt pitch black outside as well. She had slept lighter than ever since the RV incident, and something had for sure and certain woken her up. At least this time she hoped she wouldn’t need to risk her life chasing whatever it was down the lane.

  She stilled herself and let the noises of the night envelop her. A light rain pitter-pattered against the tent, but she didn’t think that had woken her up. She could also hear Dawdi snoring softly under his canopy in his nice, comfy bed, but his snoring had become a part of the night sounds, like crickets chirping or the buzzy little song of the sparrow.
She heard nothing out of the ordinary. It must have been the dream.

  Trying to still her breathing, she listened carefully one more time. There it was, softer and coming from the direction of the barn, and it sounded suspiciously like a bear eating chickens. Jethro had closed the barn up for the night. There wasn’t any possible way a bear could have gotten in, was there? Maybe it wasn’t a bear. It sort of sounded like Jethro trying to imitate a bear.

  Oy, anyhow.

  She knew exactly what she was hearing.

  With a sigh, she laid her head back onto her pillow. She should just ignore it. It would pass soon enough.

  Probably.

  But it sounded bad.

  Growling, she sat up and turned on her lantern. Jethro would never suspect she had neglected him if she went back to sleep, but because this whole thing was her fault in the first place, she couldn’t be so hard-hearted. She unzipped the tent flap and stuck the lantern out first to check for bears, foxes, or raccoons. Were there porcupines in these woods? There were definitely badgers that could sink their teeth into your ankle and never let go. All the badgers seemed to be elsewhere, and she didn’t see so much as a bear track. She tiptoed across the clearing and up to the side door of the barn to the bathroom. She knocked softly.

  “Uhhh,” Jethro groaned. It sounded like he was on the floor, maybe with his head hovering over the toilet.

  Mary Anne didn’t wait to be invited in. She opened the door, stepped inside the small space, and closed the door behind her. No use waking the rest of the camp if she could help it. Jethro was indeed kneeling on the floor with his forearm draped across the toilet seat and his head resting on his forearm. “Did I wake you?”

  His whole body convulsed, and he pointed his face toward the toilet. Mary Anne knelt down, braced his forehead with her right hand, and laid her left hand on the back of his neck as he retched into the toilet. It was something she’d done for him a handful of times over the years, like her dat had done for her when she was a little girl. She’d always found it comforting when someone held her forehead when she threw up.