The Amish Quiltmaker's Unruly In-Law

by Jennifer Beckstrand

  Cathy picked up Linda’s canvas bag from the floor. “Peppermint makes my bladder hurt. If your bladder starts hurting, stop using it.”

  Ben winked at Linda when Cathy wasn’t looking. “Words to live by.”

  Linda stood up, pointed at Ben, and gave him the stink eye. “I don’t care if you don’t believe. Use those essential oils.”

  “Okay,” he said, as if she was asking him to pluck the hairs off his chin one by one. But even though he acted reluctant, he secretly determined to use Linda’s essential oils every day. Linda had gone to a lot of trouble for him. The least he could do was follow instructions. The worst that could happen was that he’d start smelling like an orange or a stick of peppermint. There were worse things he could smell of, like cigarettes.

  She grabbed another cookie from the plate and took a bite. “Appeditlich,” she said.

  Cathy made a face. “Might as well eat poison.”

  Linda gave Ben one last amused look before slinging her bag over her shoulder and following Cathy out the door. Ben stood still for a minute, breathing in the lingering scent that Linda carried with her. He flinched when he heard the front door close. There was something he still needed to do. He snatched his new hat from the table.

  Passing Esther and her quilt in the front room, he hurried to the front door, opened it, and called to Linda, who was halfway across the yard. “Wait,” he said.

  She turned, and her smile almost blinded him. She couldn’t be that happy to see him. They’d just said goodbye.

  Cathy didn’t turn around, didn’t stop walking until she reached the car. “Come on, Linda. If he’d wanted to do more chitchatting, he should have thought of that while we were still in the house.”

  “I’ll be right there,” Linda said, never taking her eyes from Ben.

  Cathy turned and leaned on the hood of her car. “Don’t take too long. My arthritis acts up when I get cold.”

  In three long strides Ben was at Linda’s side. She looked up at him as if she couldn’t wait to hear what he had to say. Why? Ben had never been anyone special. His collar suddenly seemed too tight. “Uh, Linda, denki for the hat. It was wonderful nice of you. And you don’t have to apologize for laughing when my hat got run over. I deserved it.”

  She reached out and wrapped one hand around his upper arm. He felt a zing down to his toes. “I was laughing with you, Ben, not at you.”

  He could feel a smile sprouting on his face. “I don’t believe you for a second.”

  She threw back her head and laughed. “What else is new?” She seemed to realize she had a hold of his arm and quickly dropped her hand to her side. “Will I see you on Saturday for our race?”

  He inclined his head as a yes. “I’ve got clear lungs and essential oils. I’m going to win.”

  “Don’t count your chickens just yet.”

  “Sounds like fun,” Cathy called from her perch by the car. “What time should we go?”

  With her back turned to Cathy, Linda widened her eyes as if pleading with Ben to do something. He shrugged. What could he do? He wasn’t about to tell Cathy she couldn’t go snowshoeing with them.

  Ben cocked an eyebrow at Linda. “Can you pick us up at eleven?”

  “Sounds good,” Cathy said. “I bought some new snow pants.”

  Linda pinned him with the stink eye, but there was nothing Ben could do. He certainly didn’t want to hurt Cathy’s feelings. “Okay then,” Linda said through gritted teeth. “We’ll see you on Saturday. And don’t count on Cathy slowing me down. I plan on soundly beating you up the trail.”

  “Only in your dreams,” Ben said.

  She tilted her head to one side, and her gaze explored his face. “See you then.” She turned and ran to the car before Cathy could make one more peep about her bladder or her moles or her arthritis.

  What did Linda see when she looked at him? Was it something more than his parents saw? Or any of the other girls in the gmayna? The thought made his heart race with anticipation and his throat constrict in terror. Linda didn’t know him. He didn’t want her to know him. Sooner or later she’d understand what everyone else already knew.

  Ben was no good.

  Chapter Eight

  “You people don’t know anything about keeping a fire going,” Cathy said, throwing another log on their already tall campfire.

  Linda glanced at Ben. He was looking at her. It was dusk, but by the light of the fire she had no trouble seeing the smile he flashed at her. Her heart did two somersaults and a back flip. Ben’s smile was almost a common occurrence these days. Not that any smile of Ben’s was commonplace, but he certainly smiled more often than he used to.

  “Cathy,” Levi said, standing up and poking a stick into the fire. “If you put too much wood on it, it will take longer to burn down to the coals. We don’t want a raging fire. We want hot coals so we can roast marshmallows.” Levi was usually patient and good-natured, but it seemed Cathy Larsen was wearing on his nerves just a bit.

  Cathy pinned Levi with a no-nonsense frown. “Do you know how much sugar a marshmallow has in it?”

  Esther laughed. “We’re willing to take the risk, Cathy. You can’t have a campfire without marshmallows.”

  Linda pulled the blanket around her neck and leaned closer to the fire to borrow more of its warmth. It was only the third week in May, and it got wonderful cold when the sun went down, especially in the canyon.

  Ben sat in a camping chair next to her with his arms and his blanket tucked tightly around Winnie, who was sitting on his lap. It was a sweet sight, Winnie watching the fire, her eyes wide with delight, Ben with his arms securely around her, lending Winnie warmth and keeping her safe. At first, Winnie hadn’t liked being restrained. She’d wanted to jump in the fire pit and test the fire for herself. Ben had scooped her into his arms and held her tightly on his lap until she had quit fussing and squirming and settled in to enjoy the dancing flames from the safety of Ben’s lap.

  It had been Esther’s suggestion to have a pre-Memorial Day hot dog roast, before the crowds got too big at the campground. As usual, Cathy had invited herself to join them, and since they needed a driver, she was a convenient choice.

  Linda slanted her gaze in Cathy’s direction. Did Cathy enjoy spending time with a bunch of Amish people?

  Cathy had invited herself on their outing with Ashley, Dylan, and Sissy three weeks ago, where Ben and Linda had finally planned to run, or rather snowshoe, against each other. Cathy seemed determined to tag along, as if she was suspicious of Ben and wasn’t going to let him out of her sight. Or maybe she thought she was in charge of Linda and wanted to keep her safe from Ben and gluten.

  They had planned on snowshoeing, but it had turned warm enough to rain, and there was more mud than snow. They had hiked instead, and Cathy had insisted on walking between Ben and Linda the whole time, holding onto each of their arms to keep her balance. Ben and Linda canceled the race because neither of them felt good about leaving an eighty-three-year-old woman to fend for herself, even if she hadn’t really been invited. Hiking wasn’t as physically taxing as snowshoeing, but Ben had still done a lot of heavy breathing, even as slow as they were with Cathy in tow. Linda had expected as much. Ben had smoked for three or four years. His lungs weren’t going to clear out that quickly. But the longer he went without a cigarette, the better he would do.

  The Saturday after that, Ashley and Dylan had taken them canoeing. Unfortunately, Cathy had again invited herself, and Linda hadn’t figured out a polite way to say no. Besides, surprisingly enough, Mamm felt better about Linda going off with her Englisch friends when Cathy tagged along. Mamm probably saw Cathy as a good chaperone or a voice of reason in case Ben or Linda’s friends wanted to do anything deerich, which wasn’t likely. Ashley was a true outdoorswoman. She followed the rules and didn’t do anything that would put herself or anyone else at risk.

  Ben was less cautious, but he was still unsure of himself in the wild, so he usually did what Ashley told him, even t
hough he didn’t like being bossed around.

  The canoe trip had been glorious. Ashley and Dylan had shared a canoe, and Cathy, Ben, and Linda had climbed into the other one. Linda and Ben sat in the back of the canoe and rowed while Cathy sat up front and told them what they were doing wrong. At one point, she had nodded off sitting straight up, and Linda had been terrified that she would fall into the water. But she had seemed very comfortable like that, so they hadn’t awakened her.

  Linda smiled to herself. Ben was better at canoeing because his upper body was stronger than hers, with those broad shoulders and all those muscles rippling down his back and arms. When she had admitted he was a better rower than she was, he had flexed his biceps and let her feel for herself how hard they were. She’d been so giddy, she’d almost fainted.

  The more time she spent with Ben Kiem, the more ashamed she felt for how little she’d thought or cared about him in the past. Ben Kiem had done some deerich things—everyone knew about the embarrassing incident in primary school—but no one should be forever judged by the worst thing they’ve ever done. Of course, Ben hadn’t exactly changed his ways since then. He and Wally and Simeon always seemed to be making trouble. Three years ago, they had locked a dozen chickens in the schoolhouse over the weekend. The teacher was met with a big surprise and an even bigger mess on Monday morning before class. Ben, Wally, and Simeon smoked like chimneys, trespassed in people’s barns, stole eggs from chicken coops, and then threw those eggs at passing buggies and cars. They had taken the deacon’s buggy for a joy ride and crashed it into a ditch. They showed up at gatherings only to loiter on the fringes and play their horrible music or steal all the eats.

  Of course, Ben’s reputation was so damaged, he got blamed for just about everything that went wrong in the community, even things he didn’t do. When the Sensenigs’ woodshop had been broken into last October, David immediately blamed “the bishop’s son and his two wild friends” even though Ben and his family had been in Ohio for a wedding.

  “You warm enough, Winnie?” Ben said, tucking the blanket around Winnie’s legs. He kissed the top of Winnie’s little bonnet and turned his face toward the fire. His intelligent eyes reflected the firelight, and Linda found it impossible to look away.

  The first time she had invited Ben to go skiing with her was partly because she felt sorry for him but mostly because she wanted to teach him a lesson, to humble him a little, to make sure he knew he wasn’t as special as he thought he was.

  But the better she knew him, the more she realized she’d been completely mistaken. Ben didn’t need a dose of humility. He already thought he was completely unworthy of anything good. Ben didn’t believe he was special at all. He thought he wasn’t good enough. For anybody. He worked hard to hide his insecurity behind that wounded pride and resentful temper, but he was just a vulnerable boy who sought to cover up his pain by proving everybody right. He didn’t have to try to be a better person or make better choices when people didn’t expect anything of him. It was so much easier to live life without the burden of high expectations, or any expectations for that matter.

  Linda’s heart hurt. Ben was so completely wrong. He didn’t think much of himself, but Linda was constantly amazed at his wisdom, his sensitivity, and his strong will. If that strong will could be channeled in a productive direction, there was nothing Ben couldn’t do if he put his mind to it. Like the smoking. How many people who tried to quit smoking actually accomplished it on their first try? That Ben had been able to resist so far told Linda a lot about his true character.

  Ben whispered something in Winnie’s ear and pointed to the fire. No man who was gute with children was completely hopeless. It was plain he adored Winnie, and Winnie loved him. He was also very attentive to his mammi, and he listened patiently to Cathy whenever she wanted to tell him about her health history.

  Linda had told him he was touchy, overly sensitive, as if it were a flaw in his character. But being sensitive meant he was attuned to the needs of people around him, like his mammi and Winnie. It meant he had compassion when someone got her face smacked with a tree branch or smashed her finger while rowing a canoe. It meant he appreciated someone’s buying him a new hat or making him a sandwich.

  Even though her first invitation to go skiing had been more of a challenge, a way to cut his pride down to size, that wasn’t how Linda felt now. Linda would rather spend time with Ben than anybody else, including her family or Ashley.

  She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. She wouldn’t tell Mamm, but Linda liked Ben. A lot. She found herself often thinking about him when they were apart and even more when they were together. She loved the way his mouth curled into a reluctant smile when she said something funny but he didn’t want her getting a big head. She loved how he hated essential oils but was good-natured about trying them. She loved that he liked her cookies. She loved that he only spoke when he thought he could say something intelligent or insightful. And she loved that he was willing to give up smoking just to be able to beat her in a race, even though he would never beat her. She was just too fast.

  A burning log crackled and slipped from the top of the pile, sending sparks dancing into the darkening sky. “Oooh,” Winnie exclaimed, pointing into the air.

  Levi grinned at Winnie and poked his stick at the fire. “I think that counts as another word. She’s up to twelve.”

  As if her dat had asked her to show off her vocabulary, Winnie turned her cherubic little face up at Ben. “Dee, Beh. Dee.”

  Linda laughed. “I have no idea what she said, but she sure is cute.”

  Esther looked especially pretty in a royal blue dress with a match tucked behind her ear. “She said, ‘Sing, Ben.’ She loves to hear Onkel Ben sing.”

  Linda raised an eyebrow in Ben’s direction. “Does she? I’d like to hear that.”

  Ben looked down and shook his head, but she caught the hint of a smile on his face. “I only sing for cows and small children.”

  “Sing the railroad song,” Esther said. “Winnie loves that one.”

  Cathy sat up straight. “I always enjoy a good railroad song.”

  Ben glanced at Linda, his smile an uncomfortable fit on his face. “The Amish don’t believe in solo singing, Cathy. They think it tempts members to be proud.”

  Linda pressed her lips together. Ben talked about the Amish as if he weren’t one of them. She tried not to let it bother her.

  Cathy blew a puff of air from her lips. “It’s not showing off to do a favor for an old lady who might not have many years left to hear you sing. Do you know ‘I’ve Been Working on the Railroad’?”

  Ben chuckled softly. “I don’t know that one.”

  “If you’re worried about standing out,” Levi said, “we’ll all sing with you.” He settled into his camp chair. “In our heads.”

  “Very funny,” Ben said, shooting a dagger at Levi with his gaze.

  “Dee, Beh,” Winnie coaxed again.

  Ben tightened his arms around his niece, and he curled his lips in surrender, as if he couldn’t say no to that face. “Okay. Which railroad song do you want? I know several.” Cathy opened her mouth, but he motioned in her direction. “Except ‘I’ve Been Working on the Railroad.’”

  “You choose,” said Esther.

  “Okay then, but you all have to do the actions.” Ben put his palms together, fingers pointing away from him. “Rub your hands together like this.”

  “What does this have to do with a railroad?” Cathy said.

  “When you rub your hands together, it makes the sound of a train chugging up the hill.”

  Cathy rubbed her hands together and frowned. “No, it doesn’t.”

  Winnie giggled, pulled her hands from under the blanket, and clapped them together. It was plain she’d done this one before.

  Ben rubbed his hands together and began to sing. “Little red caboose, chug, chug, chug. Little red caboose, chug, chug chug.” He sang softly, obviously a little self-conscious, with his focus square
ly on Winnie. Winnie’s eyes lit up like fireworks as he held her protectively in his arms. Linda had never seen anything so tender in her whole life.

  Cathy leaned closer to Linda. “You’re not rubbing your hands together. It doesn’t make any sense, but we need to follow instructions.”

  Linda put her hands together, but her thoughts were so scattered, she couldn’t even concentrate on something as simple as actions to a children’s song. Every moment she spent with Ben Kiem was bringing her closer to the truth. He had taken up residence in her heart, and try as she might, she couldn’t make him leave. In truth, she didn’t want him to leave. But what did that mean? Should she do something about it or just ignore it? But how could she ignore it? It was the only thing she could think about.

  “Toot, toot,” Ben sang, pumping his hand up and down like he was pulling the cord attached to the train whistle.

  Winnie clapped her hands in delight. “Toot,” she said.

  Levi beamed. “Good work, Ben. You get an extra marshmallow for teaching my daughter two new words tonight.”

  “That was fun,” Cathy said, as if she was talking about a colonoscopy. “What other railroad songs do you know?”

  “I think one is enough, don’t you?” Ben said.

  Esther settled deeper into her chair. “Of course not. I want to hear every train song you know.”

  Cathy nodded. “I want to hear ‘I’ve Been Working on the Railroad,’” she said, either forgetting she’d already asked or just being her own persistent self. She must have really adored that song.

  “Dee, Beh.”

  Ben stifled a smile. “Okay. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He tugged Winnie closer and stared into the fire as he started to sing Johnny Cash’s song, “Life’s Railway to Heaven.” “Life is like a mountain railway, with an engineer that’s brave. We must make the run successful from the cradle to the grave.”

  Linda held her breath. The Amish knew how to sing. Everybody sang from the day they were old enough to talk. They sang long, solemn hymns in church worship and songs that taught moral lessons in school. Even their weekly gatherings were called singings. The ability to sing was almost a birthright among the Amish. But Linda had never heard singing like Ben’s. His voice was low and smooth, like chocolate from a fountain—thick, warm, and sweet. She could have listened to him all night long. No wonder Winnie loved to hear him sing. Hearing him was like watching a stunning sunset or tasting strawberries for the first time.