Sweet as Honey

by Jennifer Beckstrand

  It was true. He always seemed to put his foot in his mouth.

  He resolved to never speak again. Just smile. Lily liked his smile. He could have done cartwheels all the way down the lane.

  Bitsy folded her arms across her cherry-red apron and scrutinized Dan as if she were buying a horse. “Nae. I don’t see it.”

  Lily sighed while a smile played at her lips. “Aunt B, you are impossible.”

  Dan didn’t know why he laughed. It mattered very much what Bitsy thought of him, and apparently, she wasn’t impressed. But he could work on Aendi Bitsy, because Lily had given him hope.

  She liked his smile. It was at least a place to start.

  Chapter Twelve

  Paul’s voice clanged in her head like a fire alarm.

  Forgive but don’t forget.

  The trouble was, Dan Kanagy had an uncanny ability to make her forget, especially when he sat two feet away from her at the kitchen table smiling as if he were the happiest boy in Wisconsin. His smile practically begged her to smile back. So she did. She liked seeing his smile widen every time she returned his gaze, every time she gave him a sliver of attention.

  What was so wrong about forgiving and forgetting?

  Paul said if she forgot how much Dan had hurt her, he would have the power to hurt her again, worse than before. Maybe so, but it exhausted her to hold back her friendship simply because Dan might call her Amtrak again.

  Paul never had to know how she treated Dan in her own kitchen.

  Poppy and Rose sat on one side, and Lily and Dan sat on the other, with Aunt B at the head of the table. Poppy and Rose had made a salad while Dan had watched Lily finish the spaghetti. She hadn’t minded him standing so near, teasing her about the way she stirred the sauce, asking for tastes every minute. Dan, despite all his faults, made her smile. He made her laugh.

  He made her forget.

  Paul need never know.

  Bitsy held out her hands. Lily took one and Poppy took the other. Poppy slid her hand into Rose’s and Rose reached across the table to grab Dan’s. Surprise flickered in his eyes before he curled his lips into that ever-present smile and took Rose’s hand. After a moment of hesitation, he reached out and enfolded her hand in his. He had really nice hands. Long, thin fingers and rough palms callused from farmwork.

  She felt the heat travel up her neck as she tried to decide if she liked or hated this little tradition of Aunt B’s. Holding hands for prayer had never bothered her before. But holding hands with one of her sisters was a far cry from holding hands with a boy like Dan Kanagy. Electricity tingled through her fingers and up her arm. Was this normal? Would she feel the same thing if she held hands with one of her boy cousins on her dat’s side? Would Paul Glick’s touch make her skin feel this twinkly? It was all too confusing. She opted to pretend that she didn’t have hands.

  In spite of her hands, she wondered what Dan would think of their suppertime ritual. They said two prayers before every meal. A holding-hands, out-loud prayer offered by Aunt B and then, because Aunt B wanted them to be devout and proper Amish girls, a silent prayer as well.

  Lily focused her attention on Dan out of the corner of her eye to see how he would bear up under the strangeness of it all. He acted unsure for mere seconds, then bowed his head and closed his eyes at the same time Aunt B did.

  “Dear Heavenly Father,” Aunt B began. “We give thanks for the bees and for each other. And while we’re not especially grateful that Dan Kanagy saw fit to drop by right before dinnertime, we are grateful that he brought number eight mesh and that he did not cut off his finger, even though he should have stayed out of my kitchen in the first place. Bless him to learn not to make a pest of himself. And bless that whoever tipped over our beehive will see the error of his ways. Either that or please give him a case of heat rash in a very bad place. Amen.” They all raised their heads, but Aunt B growled and lowered hers again. Lily had been expecting this. Aunt B always forgot to bless the food. Everyone at the table bowed their heads again. “And, Heavenly Father, please bless this spaghetti that it won’t make us sick. Amen.”

  Lily immediately opened her eyes to see Dan’s reaction to the fact that Aunt B had insulted him in her prayer.

  He squeezed her hand, sending the electricity all the way up her shoulder, and smiled that glorious smile of his, as if he were the sunrise on a clear summer’s day.

  “Sorry,” she whispered.

  He leaned close and whispered back, “Your aunt Bitsy is really warming up to me.”

  Lily stifled a giggle and glanced across the table. Poppy gave her one of those “What is going on?” looks, and Rose simply watched them, her eyes glowing with a hundred different secrets.

  What were they muddled about? Dan had simply whispered in her ear. She’d simply smiled back.

  “Silent grace now,” Aunt Bitsy said, bowing her head without waiting to see if anyone followed her.

  Lily bowed her head and tried to concentrate on her prayer. At least she had her hands to herself. It was easier to pray with hands. Once they’d said silent grace, they passed the food around the table. Always to the left. Aunt Bitsy was very particular that they always passed to the left.

  “You haven’t had any more beehives tipped over, have you?” Dan asked as he scooped noodles onto his plate. “I don’t like thinking someone is bent on harming you like that.”

  “Nae,” Aunt B said. “No more beehives overturned.”

  Lily glued her eyes to her plate. No need to tell him about the other thing. She hadn’t even told Paul.

  Rose turned one shade paler. “Someone is still out there, though.”

  Dan frowned as if he’d lost his best friend. “Has something else happened?”

  Rose’s voice sounded small and thin. “He tore our laundry from the line and threw it in the mud yet.”

  The sight of the soiled pile of dresses had shaken all of them, but poor Rose had been terrified. She had climbed into bed with Lily that night.

  The lines around Dan’s mouth seemed to cut into his face. He turned to Lily. “When did this happen?”

  “Three nights ago. It might have been a teenager playing a prank.”

  A look of deep disquiet glowed in his eyes as he gazed at Lily, but when he turned to Rose, he had extinguished it, giving her a reassuring, almost carefree, smile. “Jah, it was most likely one of the local boys with nothing to do but play pranks on the Amish. They are harmless. And your aendi has a shotgun.”

  A hint of a smile pulled at Rose’s lips. “No one would dare cross Aunt Bitsy and her gun.”

  Bitsy narrowed her eyes and nodded. “A little buckshot might teach those Shawano boys a lesson.”

  Lily near jumped out of her skin when Dan found her hand under the table and squeezed it. Her eyes flew to his face. Was he trying to get fresh? Nae, his concern was deep and cold, like Lake Michigan in January. She squeezed back and nodded. They could talk later—about Rose and vandals and the inappropriateness of squeezing a girl’s hand like that and almost giving her a warm, mushy heart attack.

  He cleared his throat and changed the subject right quick. “Do these muffins have honey in them? They’re delicious.”

  Rose perked up even more. “Jah. Lily’s recipe.”

  “How much honey do you get every year from your beehives?”

  “Lily keeps all those records,” Aunt B said. “She can tell you to the pound.”

  Dan looked at her as if she wore a plate of his favorite doughnuts on her head. “Lily is about the smartest girl I’ve ever seen.”

  She knew she shouldn’t let flattery make her blush. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t smarter than anybody. She still felt the warmth on her cheeks.

  “The amount of honey depends on the year. Some years we might get a hundred pounds. Our best year we averaged almost two hundred pounds from each hive.”

  He winked at her. “You were always good at math.”

  Lily thought of how little they would get for their honey this year
. He wouldn’t think she was so good at math if she couldn’t find a way to make ends meet. “I’m not that smart.”

  Paul has always told her it didn’t matter to him that she wasn’t smart. It was harder for smart girls to be humble. He wanted a godly wife, not someone who knew how to divide fractions in her head.

  Aunt Bitsy pointed her fork at Lily like she always did when she was about to give her a lecture. She thought that Lily was putting herself down when she said things like that, but in truth, Lily was only being honest. She kept the family’s accounts book, but as Paul always reminded her, it wasn’t all that hard to add and subtract numbers. A first grader could do it.

  Before Aunt B opened her mouth to scold her, Dan protested. “What do you mean you’re not that smart? I’ve heard you read to my mammi. You never stumble over words like I would, and your pronunciation is perfect. Not only do you read like a teacher, keeping account books is more than just adding and subtracting. You know stuff like how many pounds of honey the average beehive produces in one year.” He twirled some spaghetti around his fork. “Whose idea was it to rent hives to the Chidesters to pollinate their sunflowers?”

  “I don’t remember,” Lily said.

  Dan sprouted a self-satisfied smirk. “It was yours. Mr. Chidester told me so.”

  Poppy propped her elbow on the table and looked at Dan as if seeing him for the first time. “It was Lily’s idea, but she never wants to take credit for anything.”

  Lily slumped in her chair to make herself as small as possible. “It’s pride to think you’re smart, and pride is a sin.”

  Dan didn’t seem annoyed with her at all, even though she contradicted him. His lips twitched into a silly grin, and he nudged her with his elbow. The spaghetti slipped off his fork. “I would never call you proud. You’re using the talents Gotte gave you for the good of your family. You’re very capable, Lily. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

  Dan looked around the table, as if he hadn’t noticed everybody staring at him. He pulled back his enthusiasm and stuffed a forkful of spaghetti into his mouth. Nobody spoke. Her sisters and Aunt B looked at Dan as if he’d found a cure for cancer. Lily wasn’t quite sure what to make of that. Dan had all but given her permission to be proud.

  Dan took a swig of water and wiped his mouth. “When do you extract your honey? I read that some beekeepers do it all at once at the end of the year. Others do it in the middle of the season.”

  “It was an early spring, and the hives are strong. We’re extracting next week,” Poppy said, eyeing him with something akin to approval on her face. “You wanna help?”

  His enthusiasm immediately resurfaced. “You’d let me help?”

  Lily couldn’t help but smile. Pulling honey was hard, sticky work. No one with half a brain wanted to help, unless they didn’t know what they were getting into. She found herself hoping Dan wouldn’t realize how hard it would be. It might be fun to have him around on extraction day.

  “He’ll only be in the way,” said Aunt B as if she’d already lost the argument.

  She had. Both Poppy and Rose were unusually insistent. “Oh, jah, Aunt B,” Poppy said. “He’s coming.”

  “We could really use his help with the supers,” Rose chimed in.

  Lily might as well throw in her two cents. “We can always use an extra pair of hands.” She sounded eager, like a silly girl hoping a boy would notice her. She wasn’t eager, just mildly willing. Dan would be a lot of help. Like a hired hand.

  Bitsy shrugged. “We start on Tuesday. I hope you can keep up.”

  Dan lit up the room with his smile. “I’ll be the best apprentice beekeeper you’ve ever seen. You won’t regret it.”

  “I already do,” Aunt B said, but there was amusement in her tone. Not even Aunt B could be callous enough to burst Dan’s bubble.

  Dan gasped and leaped from his chair. “Bitsy, have you got a piece of paper?”

  Aunt Bitsy raised an eyebrow. “In the drawer right there.”

  Dan found the paper drawer, snapped a sheet from the pile, and pulled a clean glass from the cupboard. He went to the end of the table opposite Aunt B and set the glass upside down.

  “What are you doing?” Poppy asked.

  Dan carefully slid the paper between the glass and the table. “I caught a bee.”

  “Wait!” Aunt B yelled. “Before you . . .”

  Smiling calmly, Dan lifted the paper and glass with the bee trapped between them and ambled to the door. “I thought we should let it outside. My book says to never kill a bee.”

  Aunt B expelled a slow breath. “That’s right. Never kill a bee. They are the future of the human race.” She rested her elbows on the table and cradled her head in her hands. “That was close. I thought you were going to kill it. I’m happy to tell you that you have one additional talent.”

  Dan chuckled as he opened the door. “I’m really glad to know that. Maybe if we spend enough time together, you’ll discover a few more.” He walked onto the porch and pulled the sheet of paper from the bottom of the glass. The bee flew out and away.

  It was a small thing, but Lily couldn’t help but be impressed by the Dan Kanagy she didn’t really know at all. Dead bees made Aunt Bitsy very upset.

  Dan came back in, shut the door, and sat down at the table. “You probably have bees in your house often.”

  “It’s not unusual,” Lily said. “Since there are several hives nearby.”

  “You have a wonderful-gute piece of property here. I know how hard it is to find fertile land at a gute price.”

  Paul’s voice intruded into Lily’s thoughts. Dan’s family had practically stolen Glick’s property. She let thoughts of Paul evaporate like dew. Forgive and forget.

  Aunt Bitsy nodded. “When my sister and her husband died, I bought the land with the insurance money so my girls could live near family and have plenty of room to grow.”

  “They had insurance?” Dan asked. The Amish did not usually buy any kind of insurance. That part always puzzled people.

  Pain flickered in Aunt B’s eyes. “I bought a life insurance policy on my sister after Lily was born. She told me that if anything happened to her, she planned to leave the babies in my care. I knew I would need some money to do it properly if it ever came to that.”

  Dan put down his fork and laced his fingers together. He glanced at Lily uncomfortably. “Is it okay if I ask how your parents died? I mean, if it’s not, you can throw me out of the house.”

  Lily shook her head and looked at him as if he deserved a scolding for thinking she’d be annoyed by that question. “Of course you can ask. They left us with our grandparents while they hired a driver to do some Christmas shopping in Green Bay. The roads were slick. They were killed in a car accident.”

  The memory still hurt, but the pain wasn’t fresh and raw like it had once been. Mamm and Dat were in a better place, and while that knowledge didn’t help Poppy much, Lily took a lot of comfort from it.

  Dan lowered his voice, as if he feared they’d be offended if he asked his question too loudly. “How old were you?”

  “Almost fifteen years ago,” Lily said. “I was eight. Poppy was six. Rose was five yet.”

  He acted as if it had been his own parents who’d been killed. “I’m sorry.”

  Lily gave Rose and Poppy a half smile. “We still have each other, and we have Aunt B. We never would have survived without Aunt B.”

  Aunt B wiped some moisture from her eyes and swatted away Lily’s praise. “You girls are the ones who saved me. I was miserable until you came along.” She took the last bite of her muffin. “Now I’m more miserable.”

  Everybody laughed, even Rose, who took their parents’ death harder than all of them. Even though Aunt Bitsy couldn’t bring herself to spoon out compliments, her girls knew how much she loved them. It was the anchor that kept their lives from going adrift.

  Dan jumped up almost before they finished eating and started clearing plates from the table. He filled the sink
with water and wouldn’t budge when Lily tried to scoot him out of the way. “I’m washing,” he said, with that mischievous smile of his. “Your hands will get wrinkly if they’re in the water for too long, and you need to save them for the bees.”

  Lily smirked and grabbed a dish towel. She didn’t have a witty reply because Dan had completely disarmed her with his offer to wash dishes. To Paul, after-supper cleanup was women’s work, and he wouldn’t have dreamed of putting his hands into a sink of soapy water.

  Lily frowned to herself. She should really stop comparing her boyfriend to Dan Kanagy.

  Poppy put away leftovers while Rose wiped counters and Aunt B swept the floor. They had the cleanup routine down almost like a dance. A dance that Dan had become suddenly, naturally a part of.

  He obviously had a lot of experience washing dishes. She could see it in the way he drew the rag along the plates front and back, checking for leftover food, making sure he didn’t leave excess bubbles.

  He rinsed the first plate with hot water, smiled, and handed it to her to dry. “I hope you can keep up,” he said. “I’ve been known to keep three dryers busy at once.”

  Lily raised her eyebrows. “You can’t go fast enough for me.”

  Dan raced through the plates and cups and put some elbow grease into the frying pan. He still had time to flick drops of water on the back of her neck when she wasn’t looking and smear a handful of bubbles up her arm when she reached for another plate. Did he never stop teasing?

  They finished the dishes in record time, each trying to prove to the other how fast they were. Lily almost regretted the last dish. They’d been having such a gute time. Maybe she should have dried slower.

  Aunt B hung up the broom and dustpan on the special hook on the wall and turned to look at Dan who rinsed the last of the bubbles out of the sink. “Well, Dan Kanagy, it’s not that we don’t appreciate your help with the dishes, but it’s time for you to go away now. You’ve worn out your welcome.”

  Lily blushed down to her toes, but to her relief, Dan didn’t seem the least bit ruffled by Aunt B’s bluntness. He grinned at Lily, dried his hands, and grabbed his hat from the hook by the door.