Sweet as Honey

by Jennifer Beckstrand

  Dan turned and winked at Lily. Actually winked! Her heart became a whole troop of circus tumblers. “I’d love to have hundreds of conversations with Lily.”

  “But how many bee books have you read?” Rose asked. She seemed concerned that Dan might not be getting enough sleep.

  “The library only has three,” Dan said.

  Three more books than Paul had read. Lily tried to ignore the warmth that pulsed through her veins. Dan had stayed up late reading bee books for her. He wanted to get to know her.

  Well, not just her. All the sisters. And Aunt Bitsy.

  It was a very nice thing for such a mean boy to do.

  “Why did you go to Pennsylvania?” Rose asked, continuing to impress Lily with her fearlessness.

  “My mamm and dat claimed they sent me to learn how to care for cattle and other livestock. My onkel Titus knows more about caring for cows than most people who go to college. We’re expanding our dairy, and Dat wanted me to learn animal husbandry so we don’t have to call a veterinarian so often. But they really sent me to Pennsylvania because they wanted me to find a wife.”

  Lily tensed. She hadn’t heard anything about Dan looking for a wife in Pennsylvania. Dan’s mammi had kept her well informed of Dan’s activities while he was away. Dan had been his mammi’s faithful letter writer, and Erda had shared Dan’s detailed letters with Lily. Erda had always been so proud of her grandson, and Lily hadn’t been inclined to tell her how mean Dan had been to her in school.

  He hadn’t said anything about a girlfriend in his letters—at least, Erda hadn’t mentioned a girl—but maybe he’d left that part out. It would make sense that a boy wouldn’t be keeping his mammi updated about his love life.

  Thank goodness Poppy wasn’t afraid to ask the rude questions. “And did you fall in love?”

  “Not in Pennsylvania.” Yet again, Dan briefly turned to look at Lily. He gave her a mischievous smile that shouldn’t have been so endearing. “I’ve always preferred Wisconsin.”

  Too soon, they came to the dirt road that bordered the east side of their farm. Lily had never enjoyed a buggy ride quite so much as she had this one. They’d talked about Pennsylvania Amish customs, dairy cows, Rose’s latest beehive painting, and Poppy’s penchant for slugging boys in primary school. He said he loved Aunt B’s blue hair, and Lily could tell he meant it. They talked about bees and other critters and told him about the mouse that Farrah Fawcett refused to catch.

  He had also made Rose laugh twice, and even Poppy relaxed enough to crack a smile occasionally. Dan could certainly be charming when he wanted to be.

  “Denki for giving us a ride,” Lily said as they approached the turnoff to their lane. “It was very kind of you.”

  “If you ever need a ride, I’d be happy to take you. That is, if Paul can’t do it.”

  Instead of stopping the buggy so they could get out, Dan turned his horse as if to go down their lane. Lily tapped Dan on the shoulder. “This is where Paul lets us out.”

  Dan cocked an eyebrow in puzzlement. “Why?”

  Poppy snorted softly. She seemed to think that if she did it quietly enough Lily wouldn’t be offended. Poppy often snorted when Lily talked about Paul. She thought Paul was a baby for the way he fussed whenever a fly or a bee or any other buzzing insect landed on him.

  Lily tried not to be annoyed with her sister. Poppy didn’t know Paul the way she did. Poppy hadn’t been the painfully awkward girl in eighth grade befriended by Paul. He had sacrificed his recesses to be with Lily, sharing scriptures with her and discussing ways that girls could be gute wives and boys could be gute husbands. He had assured her that glasses and braces and pimples were nothing to be ashamed of. They helped make her humble, and every boy wanted a humble wife.

  “Paul doesn’t want bees to fly into his buggy,” Poppy said.

  “He’s terribly afraid of bees,” Rose said. She probably sensed Lily’s irritation. Dear Rose had always been sensitive to other people’s feelings. She sincerely wanted everybody to be happy, healthy, and content.

  Poppy smirked. “He’s not afraid. He just doesn’t want to be bothered.”

  “Poppy,” Lily scolded. “You know that’s not true. It’s not that long of a walk from here, and it’s too hard to turn his buggy around at the end of our lane.”

  Dan didn’t hesitate, even at the thought of having to turn his buggy around. He prodded his horse over the small wooden bridge. “I’ll brave the bees if I can spend an extra five minutes with the Honeybee Schwesters. Besides, I can’t let you walk home in the dark.”

  When they got to the house, Dan jumped out, slid the buggy door up, and let Rose and Lily climb out his side. Rose took Lily’s hand and squeezed it and then did something so bold Lily wouldn’t have expected it in a hundred years. “Would you like to come in?”

  Come in? Inviting a boy to come in after a gathering wasn’t a casual thing. It meant you might be interested in forming a more serious relationship. It meant he was welcome into the family circle. Lily didn’t know how she felt about inviting Dan Kanagy in.

  What would Paul think? What would Aunt Bitsy say? She didn’t react well when boys came over.

  By the light of the lantern hanging on the porch, she saw the slight curl of Dan’s lips. Did he want to come in or was she imagining the hopeful restraint behind that half smile? “What do you think, Amtrak?” he said.

  And there it was, the little jab to remind her of her ugliness. To remind her that she was Lily Christner and he was Dan Kanagy, the handsome boy who could put her in her place with a single word. She felt the blow as if someone had thrown a rock at her. It was like being back in eighth grade all over again.

  She took a deep breath and tried to pretend his words hadn’t hurt. “Tonight is not a good night.”

  It would never be a good night.

  His disappointment was palpable, as if she’d spit in his face and he didn’t know how to pretend it hadn’t happened. “Oh. Okay.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “It’s late. I should get going.”

  Lily nodded. Rose glanced at her. Poppy huffed and marched up the flagstones as if Dan had insulted her instead of Lily. Lily grabbed Rose’s hand for support, and they marched toward the house.

  “We still need to talk about that book,” Dan said, almost as an afterthought.

  She turned her head in a barely civil acknowledgment. “Jah. Okay. Sometime. Good night.”

  “Good night.”

  They heard him climb into his buggy. The wheels crunched against the gravel, and it sounded as if he had no problem turning his buggy around. The noise faded as the buggy made its way down the lane.

  “Lily,” Rose whispered, a hint of urgency in her voice. “I think he likes you.”

  Lily frowned. Whatever gave her that idea? “He called me Amtrak.”

  “I know, but I still think he likes you. A lot.”

  “How can you say that, Rose? After eight years, he still calls me names. And they still hurt.”

  “Maybe they’re not meant to hurt.”

  “Maybe he’s never outgrown the urge to put people down.”

  “I don’t think he’s like that. He’s really nice, Lily. And really easy to talk to.”

  Lily lifted her chin obstinately. “Then make him your boyfriend. See how long it takes him to start calling you names.” The thought of Dan being Rose’s boyfriend sunk Lily deeper into dejection.

  Rose smiled one of those smiles that made her seem wise beyond her years. “I don’t like him that way. He’s too energetic for me. I don’t think I’d be able to live with all that enthusiasm. Besides, he likes my sister.”

  Lily growled and quickened her pace, dragging Rose up the porch steps. “He does not.”

  “You can’t be so sure.”

  “I already have a boyfriend. I’m not one of those flighty girls who moves from boy to boy like bees go from flower to flower.”

  “You don’t have to buzz around the entire meadow. You only need to find the righ
t flower,” Rose said. “Maybe it’s a dandelion. Everybody overlooks dandelions because they’re weeds. People don’t even give them a chance.”

  Lily lifted a teasing eyebrow. “And you’re saying Dan is a weed?”

  “He can be insensitive, but he’s got potential.”

  “I’ve got Paul.”

  “Okay. Paul.” Rose sighed. “I’m sorry if I upset you.”

  Lily wrapped an arm around Rose’s shoulder. “You didn’t upset me. I know you mean well, but I’ve already got my own weed.” They burst into giggles.

  Paul Glick. Lily’s very own weed.

  She couldn’t have been more content.

  Chapter Ten

  Paul’s mamm walked with a shuffle and a hunched back, as if she were tired of her life. Lily had always felt a little sorry for her. Aunt B said Martha Glick was depressed. The Amish didn’t usually talk about such things, but Aunt B had lived amongst the Englisch for twenty years. She knew enough to be concerned.

  “Are you sure you wouldn’t like another cup of kaffee, Lily?” Martha asked, holding up the pot.

  “Nae. Denki just the same,” Lily said. Refills of kaffee were free at the restaurant, but Lily had already had three cups. Any more and she’d be swimming out the door.

  Paul sat next to her, mopping up the last of his gravy with half a biscuit. “The gravy is extra-gute today, Mamm.”

  His mamm flashed a rare smile. “I’m glad. Pork and beef drippings.”

  Paul picked up Lily’s unused spoon and scooped up a generous spoonful of gravy from his plate. “Here, Lily. Try the gravy.”

  He spooned it into her mouth as if he were feeding a baby. Lily savored the creamy, salty taste. Her stomach growled. Biscuits and gravy would have been so good for supper.

  She looked down at her pathetic half-eaten piece of shoofly pie. Day-old pastries were usually half price, but Paul had talked his mamm into giving Lily a slice for free. It would have been thrown away otherwise. Too bad she hated shoofly pie.

  Paul’s dat, Raymond, marched into the small restaurant with his thumbs hooked around his suspenders. Raymond Glick was short and slight with not a speck of gray in his long beard. His eyes were like Paul’s, dark and wide-set, and he had a little paunch that hung out over the waistband of his trousers. Paul probably weighed fifty pounds more than his dat.

  Without even acknowledging Lily or Paul, Raymond handed Martha a slip of paper. “Northern Adventures Tours called. They’re bringing in a busload for dinner.”

  Martha jumped as if she’d been poked with a pin. “Ach du lieva. I better get to roasting some chickens.”

  “I already sent Perry to fetch the Zimmerman girls for extra help.”

  “Denki, Raymond,” Martha said as she hurried to the kitchen.

  Raymond watched after her. “And you know better than to let Mattie Zimmerman bake the rolls.”

  “Jah, Raymond. I’ll be sure to do it myself.”

  Lily had always been a little uncomfortable with the way Paul’s dat treated his mamm, like a piece of furniture, as if she were invisible unless he wanted her for something. It seemed Paul’s parents rarely spoke unless Paul’s dat was giving Martha orders or criticizing the way she did something.

  Lily had tried once to talk to Paul about his mamm, but Paul had become defensive, so she kept her concerns to herself. She hadn’t even shared her apprehension with Aunt Bitsy. In one breath her aendi would tell the girls that no one was good enough for them and then warn them to watch how a boy’s fater treated his mater. She said it was a pretty good sign how the son would treat his own wife. “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” she’d say, then look up into heaven and ask the Lord to bring her girls someone like Donny Osmond.

  Having lived amongst the Englischers for so long, Aunt B was wise in the ways of the world, but Lily just knew Paul would be different than his fater. Hadn’t he been kind to her when no one else had been? Didn’t he buy her honey as a favor to her family? Sometimes the apple fell from the tree, rolled down the hill, was snatched up by a bird, and dropped far afield. Paul’s apple was in a whole different county than his fater’s.

  Paul’s fater came to their table and stood over them like a good host. Lily squirmed under his observation. She hadn’t worn her glasses today. “How were the biscuits?”

  “Wonderful-gute,” Paul said. “And I could have eaten a bowl of gravy.”

  Raymond nodded. “Lord willing, it will keep the customers coming in.” He glanced at Lily. “Lily, we are always glad to see you in our restaurant. Did Paul tell you we are getting a new freezer?”

  “Jah. I’m sure you need the extra space.” The freezer was the reason they couldn’t pay more for Lily’s honey. She nibbled on her bottom lip. Should she ask for a better price?

  It was the battle she had in her head continuously. Care of the family finances was her job, but Aunt B would have been able to manage things so much better. Probably anybody else would have been able to manage the finances better. She wasn’t as good at numbers as Paul and she felt too much of a sense of loyalty to question the price he paid her for honey.

  Ach, if only she didn’t feel like such a dumkoff all the time.

  But Aunt B trusted her. That had to count for something. She’d do her best.

  Lily’s accounts book sat open on the table. She and Paul had been discussing the prices for different sizes of honey jars. Raymond pointed to the figure she’d written on the paper. “You have small writing. How can you read it without your glasses?”

  Lily pressed her lips together. “I have my contacts.”

  Raymond’s mouth barely hinted at a frown. “It’s better with your glasses.”

  “She doesn’t wear the contacts often, Dat, but she can read better with them.”

  Raymond nodded. “I see. When you marry, I suppose you won’t need contacts. You’ll not be doing as much reading when the babies come.”

  Lily stiffened in her chair. Raymond thought reading was a worldly waste of time. She couldn’t agree with him. Even when—or if—he became her father-in-law, they would never see eye to eye about it. She’d be doing plenty of reading before and after the babies came.

  Unless . . .

  What would Paul want? It would be wicked to go against her husband if he was dead set against her reading.

  That thought troubled her more than she cared to admit. As a wife she must submit to her husband. Paul was so much smarter than she was and more capable of making the right decision. She’d defer to him, of course. But could she give up reading simply because Paul frowned upon it?

  Surely he wouldn’t make her give up her books. He didn’t see reading as a frivolous pursuit like his fater did. One time she’d told him the story of Summer of the Monkeys, and he seemed truly eager to know if Jay Berry Lee had bought the horse or used the money to pay for his sister’s surgery.

  She wouldn’t dare disagree with Raymond. “Lord willing, I will always meet with Gotte’s approval.”

  Raymond bestowed a smile on her. “You have turned out quite well, Lily. I worried when Paul told me you two had become friends. I knew your aunt Elizabeth as a teenager. She was a wild one. But I should have trusted Gotte. You Christner girls have come out okay in spite of it.”

  Lily sat like stone and listened to Raymond spout his insulting compliments. An invisible weight pressed against her chest and made it impossible to breathe. She was fully aware of what people said about her aunt—that she was an outcast, a fence-jumper who’d only returned to Bienenstock because she wanted money from the church to help raise her nieces. But Aunt B hadn’t ever taken one penny from the church. They’d managed just fine on their own.

  “Denki,” Lily sputtered, because she truly didn’t know what else to say. Did the whole community believe Paul was too good for her? Paul was from one of the most prominent families in the community. Not only were they rich by Amish standards, but his dat was a minister and Paul’s oldest brother had been ordained bishop in one of the
districts in Cashton. Lily was a homely, awkward girl who would rather read a book than quilt or sew or can green beans. She wasn’t ashamed of her family, but she was fully aware that the community whispered about Aunt B behind her back. What kind of gute Amish boy would even consider Lily for a wife?

  Paul would.

  He didn’t care about her appearance, and he seemed perfectly willing to marry Lily even though she had too many faults to count.

  Paul’s dat tapped on the table with his knuckle. “I must make sure they’re making plenty of rolls. Martha doesn’t make enough and then we’re left with unhappy customers.”

  He tromped quickly into the kitchen as if there were a fire that needed extinguishing. Lily sat quietly, the lump in her throat making it impossible to speak.

  Paul narrowed his eyes, obviously sensing something was wrong. She tried to fake a serene expression, as if her face were water on the lake undisturbed by even the slightest of breezes.

  She didn’t fool him. “Quit worrying, Lily. My dat likes you just fine, even when you don’t wear your glasses. He thinks it’s wonderful-gute that you have been able to overcome your upbringing.”

  “But, Paul, you don’t feel that way about Aunt Bitsy, do you?”

  Paul studied her face, raised his brows, and cleared his throat. “Me?” he sputtered. “Me?” He took a swig of milk. “Nae, nae. Your aunt Bitsy is a very gute person.”

  She had the distinct and disloyal feeling that Paul wasn’t telling her the whole truth. “Aunt Bitsy gave up everything to raise us. She taught us how to work and nurtured our faith in Gotte. She came back to the church for us.” Lily couldn’t help the bitterness that tinged her voice. “Isn’t that enough for you?”

  Paul stuck out his bottom lip slightly when he frowned. “Of all the stuff, Lily. I said she’s a gute person. You don’t have to bite my head off. Even you have to admit that your aendi isn’t exactly the most pious church member. She talks to Gotte out loud. If that doesn’t smack of pride, I don’t know what does. There’s rumors that she wears fancy earrings in her sleep. And her hair is blue.”