The Amish Quiltmaker's Unruly In-Law

by Jennifer Beckstrand

  A few hundred feet from the meadow, Ben was breathing hard, and Linda feared he might faint. “Are you okay?” she said, stopping and jabbing her poles into the snow so he could catch his breath.

  He eyed her suspiciously, as if expecting her to laugh at him. When she didn’t laugh, he said, “I’m okay. I’m just out of shape, I guess.”

  “Ben, you’re six feet of solid muscle. You’re not out of shape. Your lungs are clogged with cigarette smoke. It’s a wonder you can breathe at all.”

  His eyes flared with anger, but the emotion soon disappeared. He was probably too concerned with sucking air into his lungs to be irritated with her. “I breathe fine.”

  “I’m a girl, I’m three years younger than you and several inches shorter, and I could still beat you up this mountain with one hand tied behind my back.”

  “You could not.” The deeply offended look on his face was kind of cute. He had thick, dark eyebrows that drew close to the bridge of his nose when he frowned.

  “It wonders me why you smoke.”

  Ben coughed as if to prove her point. “I like to smoke. It helps me relax, and it’s fun.”

  Linda snorted. “Fun? Fun like lung cancer is fun?”

  “I won’t get lung cancer.”

  “That’s what they all say.”

  He bent over and adjusted the strap on one of his snowshoes. “Wally and Simeon started smoking, and I wanted to fit in. They’re my only friends.”

  She tapped her gloved finger to her lips and looked at the sky. “Isn’t there a saying about if your friends jumped off a cliff?”

  He surprised her by curling his lips into what might have passed for a smile. “The best part is, smoking makes my dat mad.”

  “You like annoying your dat?” Linda couldn’t imagine wanting to deliberately hurt her parents.

  “He doesn’t expect anything better. I’m already a huge disappointment to him.”

  Maybe if you tried harder. Linda pressed her lips together. It wasn’t her place to lecture Ben or judge him. She had no idea how hard Ben did or didn’t try at anything.

  As soon as Ben was breathing somewhat normally, they pushed on for the last hundred yards where the trail dropped down through the pines into the meadow on the hillside. Ben stopped at the edge of the meadow full of snow, looked to the east, and whistled long and low. “What . . . is that the valley?”

  Linda nodded. “You can see almost the whole valley from here. And look out there. See the sand dunes?”

  “I see them,” Ben said before falling silent and staring dumbly at the view before him.

  Ashley, Dylan, and Sissy had walked farther into the meadow. Ashley shielded her eyes from the sun as she looked down at the valley. “Isn’t it pretty, Ben?” she called. “Worth the climb.”

  Ben gave Linda a dazzling smile, but she only felt extra breathless because of the hike. “It was worth the climb. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Linda rolled her eyes at him. He didn’t seem to take offense to it. “I tried. Believe me, I tried.”

  She and Ben hiked closer to the others, and the five of them stood in the meadow, savoring the stillness, taking in the beauty of the valley below. Then Linda pulled five ham and cheese sandwiches from her backpack. Dylan took bottles of water from his, and Ashley produced trail mix and chips from hers. Linda handed everyone a sandwich.

  “You made these?” Ben said.

  Ashley passed out the chips. “Linda makes the sandwiches, I provide the transportation.” It wasn’t an even trade, so sometimes Linda gave Ashley gas money from her earnings at the grocery store where she worked two days a week.

  Ben eased himself to the ground and sat with his legs and snowshoes spread out in front of him. Linda sat next to him. He took a bite. “It’s good,” he said. “You put horseradish on it, didn’t you? I love horseradish.”

  It was probably the first nice thing he’d said to her all day. Of course it would be something about food. Boys weren’t so annoying when they were fed properly.

  He finished off the first half of his sandwich in four bites. “I guess I should have carried your backpack.”

  “Don’t be silly. You barely got yourself up here.”

  “I’ll carry it next time.”

  Next time? Did Ben think there was going to be a next time? Did Linda want there to be a next time? She had no idea.

  “Is that blood?” Sissy’s eyes widened as she pointed to Ben’s leg.

  There was indeed a circle of dark red blood at the top of Ben’s white stocking in the gap between his boot and the leg of his snow pants.

  Ben glanced at his leg as if he didn’t especially care he was bleeding. “Probably.”

  That unwelcome feeling of guilt returned with full force. Linda tried to push it away. How could she have known Ben had reinjured his leg? The pain in his leg had probably slowed him down from the very beginning, but it was hard to tell if someone was limping when they walked around in snowshoes. It certainly wasn’t Linda’s fault she hadn’t noticed. If Ben was in that much pain, he should have told her.

  But maybe she would have accused him of whining.

  Ach. Sometimes she was a little too sure of herself.

  Sissy’s breathing quickened. She hurriedly loosened her straps, stepped out of her snowshoes, and ran to Ben’s side as if he were choking. “Oh, my heck. Oh, my heck. Are you okay? Let me see. Do you need me to put some pressure on it?”

  Linda never would have guessed that Ben could smile so sweetly. He’d certainly never smiled at her like that. “That’s nice of you, but I’ll be okay. I hurt my leg last week, and I must have popped a couple of stitches when I fell back there. I’ll go home and put a Band-Aid on it.”

  “A Band-Aid?” Sissy protested. “You need more than a Band-Aid. You need a field dressing.”

  “And some essential oils,” Linda said, because nobody should forget the essential oils.

  Ashley popped a chip into her mouth. “I guess it’s okay that you whined. That’s a serious amount of blood.”

  It was obvious Ben was in some pain. All one had to do was note the lines of discomfort that creased his forehead or watch how gingerly he moved his leg, but he maintained that soft, easygoing smile while Sissy nudged his stocking down to get a better look at his cut. Ben liked that Sissy was making a fuss over him. But why should she make a fuss? Ben had only brought his pain upon himself. Still, a lump of self-reproach lodged in Linda’s throat.

  Was she sensibly unsentimental or simply uncaring?

  Ach. No use trying to figure that out now. No use trying to figure it out ever. She liked how she was, and if Ben took offense, that was his problem, not hers.

  Linda tried not to stare at Ben’s interesting face while Sissy talked on and on about how her mom was a nurse and Ben needed to see a doctor. His eyes were the color of kaffee, black, no sugar, no cream, no nonsense. His eyebrows were dark, much darker than the light chestnut hair that hung over his ears in straight tufts. Not one bit of curl like his bruder Levi had. There was a one-inch long scar at his chin. Linda’s lips curled upward. Her bruder Yost had a scar like that. It came from running around wildly and leading with your chin when you fell. Ben also had a scar that cut across his right eyebrow and another small round scar on his forehead, most likely from the chicken pox. The scars did nothing to mar his face. If anything, they made him more handsome.

  Not that she thought Ben was handsome or not handsome or anything. Ben was just Ben, rebellious, irresponsible, and a real pain in the neck.

  After Sissy lectured Ben about antibiotics and he assured her he’d watch for infection, everyone finished their lunches, stuffed their garbage into their packs, and headed back down the trail. Ashley insisted that Ben take the lead, because on a hike, the slowest person always went first. Sissy walked directly behind Ben, probably to make sure he didn’t faint or something, and Linda went last. Ashley and Sissy made such a fuss about Ben that Linda felt no obligation to worry about him at all. Ben didn’t l
ike to be embarrassed. Was Sissy’s fussing any better than Linda’s laughter?

  Who knew? Nobody but Ben.

  Linda smiled to herself. Ben had certainly gotten more than he bargained for today. If he had known what was going to happen, a team of Percheron horses couldn’t have dragged him out of Esther’s house. She giggled softly at the thought of Ben on a pair of skis being dragged up the hill by a team of eight—with his hat brim dangling around his neck like a necklace. Wouldn’t that be a sight?

  Dylan moved aside a low-hanging branch in his way. When he let it go, it snapped back and smacked Linda in the face. The pointy end of a stick scratched her cheek. “Ouch,” she said, pressing her glove to her skin to lessen the sting.

  Dylan halted abruptly and turned around. “Linda, I’m sorry. That branch had more spring to it than I thought. Are you okay? Let me see.”

  “I’m okay,” Linda said, though her face hurt something wonderful. She pulled her hand away. “Did it leave a mark?”

  Dylan hissed. “Oh, shoot. You’re bleeding. I’m sorry. I’m such an idiot.”

  “No. It’s okay. Just a little scratch. I’ll be fine.” She gave him a teasing smile, even though it made her cheek hurt. “Maybe you should be in the back.”

  He chuckled. “Maybe I should, but just my luck I’d slip and fall forward and take you out with me.”

  “You’re fine, Dylan. It barely hurts.”

  “Everybody knows you never let go of a branch without warning the person behind you.”

  Linda glanced ahead at Ben. “Well, not everybody.”

  Dylan took off his beanie and wiped the sweat from his brow. “It was a rookie mistake.”

  “You’re forgiven,” she said. “But I’ll let you take up the rear just in case.” She giggled at the expression on his face.

  “Okay, but watch for falling bodies.”

  Ben led the trip back at a faster pace than he’d taken the trip up, but that was probably because it was easier going downhill and he didn’t want to go embarrassingly slow. He was definitely limping now, and the limp got more pronounced the farther they went. Linda caught her lip between her teeth. Thank Derr Herr, they’d be back to the car in less than an hour, and she could quit feeling guilty and responsible and just a little bit like a goat. She liked goats, but they made a lot of noise, butted in where they weren’t wanted, and certainly weren’t very sympathetic creatures.

  With about a mile left to go, Ben glanced back, way back, at Linda, and frowned. Fine. She certainly didn’t care that he was still mad at her. She hadn’t meant to embarrass him, and she wasn’t going to stop laughing just so Ben wouldn’t get offended. There was nothing wrong with her.

  He said something to Sissy, and she trudged on ahead while Ben stepped off to one side of the trail and waited. Was he waiting for Linda? Was he going to tell her to quit smiling? Maybe he thought she was being smug instead of cheerful. Perhaps he didn’t care about Linda at all. Maybe he wanted to strike up a friendly conversation with Dylan. Or maybe he wanted to be in the back so he could step on Linda’s snowshoe and trip her while no one was looking.

  “You’re bleeding,” he said, when Linda got closer. That was nice of him to notice, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try to trip her later on.

  Dylan stopped. “My fault. The old tree branch trick.”

  “Dylan,” Sissy called. “What are you guys doing?”

  “Coming.” Dylan stepped around Linda. “Mind if I go ahead? My lady misses me.”

  Linda nodded and smiled, which only served to remind her of her aching face. “Sure. But beware. I might take this opportunity to get my revenge.”

  “You’re bleeding,” Ben said again when Dylan walked away.

  “I’m okay.”

  “There’s a big scratch on your face and a smear of red and a big glob of blood on this end that looks like a red booger.”

  Linda exploded with laughter. “It does not.”

  Ben pulled off one glove, stuffed his hand into his coat pocket, and fished out a handkerchief. “At least let me get the booger. People will look at you funny.”

  “I’m fine,” Linda said, giggling and dodging his attempts to wipe her face. “Leave my booger alone.”

  He laughed then gazed at her with mock contrition. “I’m laughing at you, not with you.”

  It was the first time she’d ever heard Ben laugh. “Ach,” she said. “That isn’t one bit funny.”

  “But you’re laughing.”

  “So are you.” Linda hadn’t ever seen this side of Ben, the side that thought things were funny. The side that wasn’t so uptight about looking stupid.

  He cocked his thick eyebrows. “Will you just let me wipe your face?”

  She huffed out a breath and came to rest. “Okay. But only because I don’t want Sissy to have a fit and tell me I need to get my face amputated.”

  She riveted her gaze to his face as Ben dabbed carefully at her cut with his handkerchief. This close, his eyes were two dark, stained-glass windows with specks of gold that seemed to let in the light of his soul. She saw pain there and kindness and confusion. “The blood is mostly dry now.” He bent over, picked up a small handful of snow, and closed his fist around it. When the snow melted, he dipped his handkerchief in it and wiped her face again.

  Linda held perfectly still as his gentle fingers caressed the side of her face, sending a strand of something warm and thick threading into her veins. This was not at all anything she’d expected from Ben Kiem. Or from herself. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t entirely pleasant or that she wanted it to stop.

  He bent over for more snow and continued wiping her scratch until she thought maybe all the blood was off and he was lingering close to her for a different reason entirely. She swallowed hard. “Is . . . is the booger gone?”

  He stepped back, balling the handkerchief in his hand. “The blood is gone, but that scratch looks angry.”

  “I’ll put some essential oils on it when I get home.”

  “But it’s got to hurt.” He sounded so sympathetic, so sorry, with much more concern than Linda had ever shown him.

  It shocked her how much she liked that he cared. “Not near as bad as your leg must be hurting. I’m sorry I laughed.”

  “Ach, vell, you were laughing with me, not at me.”

  “I was!” she protested. “But I guess I didn’t think it would upset you.”

  “I don’t like to look stupid. I don’t like people making fun of me.”

  “I wasn’t making—”

  He held up his hand to stop her. “No sense talking about it again. You talk too much.”

  His bluntness made her laugh. “Well, that’s about the silliest thing I’ve heard ever. Just because you don’t like what I say doesn’t mean I shouldn’t say it.”

  “You can behave how you want to behave, and I can think what I want to think.”

  “I suppose that’s true,” she said, but she’d rather win the argument than come to some sort of truce. Where was the fun in agreeing to disagree?

  He glanced down the trail. The others had slowed down, but they were still far ahead. “We should go.”

  “Now that I don’t have any embarrassing smudges on my face . . .”

  “Or boogers.”

  A giggle tripped from her mouth. “Or boogers, it’s safe to get closer.”

  They headed down the trail side by side. “How much longer do you think there will be snow up here?”

  Linda shook her head. “I don’t know. Three weeks. But it doesn’t matter. When the snow melts, we start hiking.”

  “Do you think you’ll go snowshoeing again this winter?”

  She studied him out of the corner of her eye. “Probably. When the snow is good like this but it’s not too cold, we like to go every Saturday.”

  “So.” He suddenly seemed uncertain. “So.”

  “So what?”

  “Can I come next time?”

  Linda thought maybe her eyes were going to pop ou
t of her head. “I thought you were having a miserable time.”

  “I am having a miserable time, but I can’t let your challenge go unanswered.”

  “What challenge?”

  Determination flashed in his eyes. “You said you could beat me up this mountain with one hand tied behind your back. I’m going to prove you wrong. And I’ll even let you use both hands.”

  “You can’t beat me, Ben.” It wasn’t even a boast. She’d already seen him on the mountain.

  He squared his shoulders. “You scared?”

  “Of course I’m not scared. I’m managing your expectations. I don’t want you to be crushed when I rub your face in the dirt.”

  He thought about that for a minute. “Sounds like a gute reward. The winner gets to rub the loser’s face in the dirt.”

  Linda couldn’t hold back her smile. “I’ll look forward to it.”

  Chapter Five

  Wally clicked his lighter, held the flame to his cigarette, and puffed a couple of times to get the burn going. He glanced at Ben who’d left his lighter in the buggy and his cigarettes at home. “You out of smokes? I’ve got an extra. You can pay me back later.” Wally never offered a cigarette for free. Smokes were expensive, and Wally didn’t have a job. He earned money doing the occasional chore for his Englisch neighbor, and that barely paid for his cigarette habit.

  Smoking was expensive—for sure and certain a good reason to quit. Ben had tried to quit twice before when his savings had run low and Dat had threatened to fire him from the family’s remodeling business. But quitting was a whole lot harder than starting, and Ben just hadn’t had the willpower. Even now, after giving cigarettes up for twelve hours, his hands shook, and a headache was building right between his eyes.

  Ben shook his head. “Nae. Denki.”

  Rolling his eyes, Simeon pulled out his Camels, tapped out a cigarette, and offered it to Ben. “Here. And you don’t need to pay me back.”

  Ben licked his lips, looked longingly at Simeon’s cigarette, and backed up against the fence. “I’m okay. I’m thinking of quitting.”

  Wally looked at him as if he’d jumped on top of the fence and started dancing. “Quit smoking? Why? The judgey girls leave us alone, and it makes our parents crazy. Both gute reasons to never stop.”