Dat had been so mad at him, he had assigned Ben the farm’s most back-breaking chores to accomplish all by himself in the glaring sun and oppressive heat of the day. He’d shoveled coal, mucked out the barn, hoed their half-acre garden, and as an added bonus, Dat had ordered him to move the entire wood pile three feet to the north, just so he’d have more time to think on his sins. He didn’t get breakfast or supper, and dinner wasn’t looking so promising either.
Ben ran his fingers through his wet hair. What did he care? In fact, he was glad Mamm and Dat were so mad at him. They usually didn’t care about him at all. At least today they felt some sort of intense emotion for their worthless son. At least they were hurting as badly as he was. Ach, vell, probably not. They weren’t hurt. They would just throw up their hands, agree that Ben was a hopeless case, and concentrate on their other children that they might still be able to save.
But what about Linda?
Ben clenched his teeth. This was all Wally’s fault. Why wasn’t Dat mad at Wally?
Wally had been wonderful mad about his boom box. Ben just hadn’t realized how mad. He had come up with this deerich scheme to get revenge on Mr. Bateman by burning a scarecrow in his yard. It was the stupidest of all stupid ideas, but Wally had been wild about it. They stuffed an old pair of Wally’s trousers and an old shirt with straw, used a cardboard box for a head, and finished it off with Ben’s straw hat that Zoe had run over with her truck. They hung it in Mr. Bateman’s cherry tree and set it on fire. What they hadn’t realized was that a breeze would carry sparks to Mr. Bateman’s tool shed and start it on fire too.
It had been a big hullabaloo, though Wally, Simeon, and Ben were long gone before the shed fire even started. The fire department came and put out the fire, but not before the shed was completely destroyed, along with many of Mr. Bateman’s tools.
Neighbors, including most of Mr. Bateman’s Amish neighbors, gathered to watch the firefighters put out the fire and then helped clean up the mess. The scarecrow was just a pile of ashes, except for Ben’s old hat, which had blown off the scarecrow’s head before it caught fire. Mr. Bateman’s wife had found it stuck in one of her rose bushes. There was a big outcry when everyone realized someone from the Amish community had set the fire.
No one had seen Ben and his friends do it, but because the gmayna hated Ben and Wally and Simeon so much, no one, no one doubted they had done it even though there was no evidence to prove it. They assumed Ben and his friends were guilty simply because there was no one else in the gmayna so rotten and incorrigible as they were. The thought that no one even hesitated to accuse him pressed into Ben’s chest until he couldn’t breathe.
Ben knew better than to lie to his dat. He knew better than to lie to anyone. But to protect Wally and Simeon, he hadn’t confessed either. He didn’t care that people thought he was guilty. He wanted people to hate him. If they hated him, they wouldn’t try to change him. He’d never disappoint them. Dat had paid Mr. Bateman enough to get his shed rebuilt, and Ben would be paying Dat back for years. It was that or get kicked out of the house.
Ben turned off the hose and slapped the water off his arms. Apparently, Linda had wanted to beat him up the hill in snowshoes to prove she was a better person than he was. Or maybe she liked some friendly competition and knew Ben would be easy to beat. Why had she invited him to go skiing that first time? What did she want from him?
Did Linda know about the fire? Of course she knew about the fire. News spread in Amish country faster than pink eye. Did she blame him? His stomach clenched. Something very deep inside him hoped she wouldn’t believe it, that she would think better of him, even though he had given her no reason to, even though he was actually guilty.
For sure and certain, she wasn’t going to show up tonight for their trip to the sand dunes. And Ben didn’t care one bit. She was as petty and self-righteous as everyone else in the gmayna, and he didn’t want to go to the sand dunes with her anyway.
“Ben?” Mamm stood on the back porch with a half a sandwich in each hand.
“What?” Ben snapped, his voice harsh and cold as ice. He shouldn’t be so hostile. It looked like maybe Mamm was going to feed him.
Mamm raised an eyebrow to indicate she didn’t appreciate his tone. “Maybe you shouldn’t talk to me like that when I took the trouble of putting dill pickles in your tuna.”
He bowed his head. “Sorry, Mamm. I really like dill pickles.”
She melted into a smile, even though it was tinged with pain, pain that Ben had put there. She came down the steps and handed Ben both halves of the sandwich. “Eat. You haven’t had a thing but water all day, and though I know Dat wants you thinking on repentance, it’s hard to repent on an empty stomach.”
Ben pressed his lips together. He didn’t want to repent. He wanted to stay ferociously angry at Gotte, his parents, and the world in general. But then he thought how he didn’t deserve such kindness from his mamm, and they both knew it. He was too hungry to be proud. He polished off the first half in four bites. The second one in three.
Mamm’s eyes grew wide. “I should have made a few more.”
“That was nice of you,” Ben said, which was all the humility he could muster at the moment.
“You need your strength to climb the sand dunes tonight.”
“I’m not going.” No doubt Linda wanted to stay as far away from him as she could, just like everyone else.
“Of course you’re going. Linda is waiting out front.”
Ben frowned. “She’s here?” He hadn’t expected that in a million years.
Mamm suddenly looked oppressively sad. “Maybe she doesn’t know about the fire.”
Of course she knew about the fire, and she was going to give him a lecture about it. Or laugh at him. She probably couldn’t wait to get him alone so she could make fun of him for being so foolish.
Ben glared at his mamm. “Maybe she doesn’t assume I’m guilty, like everyone else in the district.” That was completely unfair of him, because he was guilty.
Mamm gave him a wan smile. “Ach, Ben. Are you going to look me in the eye and tell me you weren’t involved?”
He had to turn away from her piercing gaze. “I’m not saying anything about it.”
She cupped his chin in her hand and gave him a look so full of affection it almost choked him. “Despite everything you’ve done, you would never lie to me. Denki for that.”
The emotion on her face broke his heart. Ben took a step back, and Mamm dropped her hand to her side. “Where did you say Linda was?”
“She’s standing on the front porch.”
Ben didn’t want to face Linda, but neither did he want to see his mamm like this, broken, disheartened. Ben had shamed their whole family. Of course Mamm was upset. “I’ll go talk to her.”
With water still dripping from his hair, he tromped around to the front of the house where he found Linda sitting on the front porch wearing her black bonnet and a wide smile. The smile took his breath away, and then suspicion settled into his chest. He’d burned down Mr. Bateman’s shed. Why was she smiling?
“I’m not going,” he said, folding his arms across his chest and giving her an I-couldn’t-care-less-what-you-think look.
“Of course you’re going,” Linda said, not the least bit intimidated or repulsed by him. “Don’t be such a baby.”
Chapter Ten
The Sand Dunes National Park on a warm summer night was the most glorious place in the world. Nothing soothed Linda’s troubled soul like sitting out under a sky dense with stars, listening to the wildlife, and feeling the soft breeze caress her face. But she feared that nothing would lift her spirits tonight. There was just too much pain and unhappiness in the world.
“This fried chicken is delicious,” Cathy said, polishing off her second piece. “Not as good as mine, but most people don’t know a thing about frying a good piece of chicken. Buttermilk is the secret. Without buttermilk, you might just as well boil it for all the flavor you’ll get.”
Ben didn’t say anything, but he had already eaten three pieces of chicken, one biscuit, a heaping helping of chowchow, and three deviled eggs. It was a gute bet he liked the chicken even without buttermilk.
“Can I have a cupcake?” Nora said. She hadn’t eaten much of anything, but she was always hungry for something sweet.
“Take three more bites of chicken,” Linda said. It was what Mamm did with Nora at every mealtime. No matter how much she had or had not eaten, Mamm always wanted three more bites from Nora.
Cathy, Elmer Lee, and Linda’s little sister, Nora, sat on one side of the picnic table while Linda and Ben sat on the other side. Ben had been extraordinarily quiet in the car and even less talkative during their picnic dinner. He seemed to resent that she’d made him come, though he’d gotten in the car willingly. Of course, it might have been because she’d called him a baby and accused him of being afraid she’d beat him to the top of the sand dunes. Ben couldn’t resist a challenge to his manhood.
Maybe he’d gotten in the car because she’d promised him dinner. He ate as if he hadn’t tasted food for days. At least his broody irritation hadn’t killed his appetite.
And maybe he wasn’t resentful. Maybe he was just ashamed of himself for burning down Mr. Bateman’s shed. Despite what Mamm thought, Ben did have a conscience, and he couldn’t be proud of what he had done. His silence might have been a sign of his remorse rather than his annoyance. Neither of them had said a word about the shed incident, but Linda was going to get an explanation before the night was over and help Ben come up with a plan to make it right.
Linda sighed. Was this the best or worst possible time to come to the sand dunes?
She, Ben, and Cathy had planned this trip before the fire, before the whole gmayna had turned on Ben, before Mamm had forbidden Linda from even sneezing in Ben’s direction ever again. Trying to bring Ben back to the fold is one thing, Linda, but I won’t stand for you putting your own soul in danger. He doesn’t need to be your project anymore. Let his parents take care of it.
Linda wasn’t one to disobey her mater, but she was nineteen years old and she’d always been a relatively compliant child, so Mamm really had nothing to complain about. Linda was in rumschpringe, and she was technically allowed to push some boundaries, even if Mamm didn’t like it. Mamm had huffed and puffed about her taking Ben to the sand dunes for quite some time, but Linda had been insistent. And if it made Mamm feel better to believe Linda was trying to save Ben’s soul, then Linda wasn’t going to enlighten her.
Mamm had finally calmed down when Linda agreed to take Elmer Lee and Nora with them. And Cathy always came along. She was like a cocklebur stuck to Linda’s stocking—but a cocklebur with a car who didn’t seem to mind driving Linda and Ben everywhere.
Linda had insisted again and again that Mamm had nothing to fear. What could Ben possibly set fire to at the sand dunes?
Linda shuddered. She didn’t want to think about that tonight. She wanted to enjoy the Ben Kiem she knew—the Ben who sang songs to his niece, the Ben who was disciplined enough to give up smoking. The Ben who willingly, cheerfully stirred cookie dough and whose smile could steal her breath with its brilliance. The Ben she knew would never set fire to someone’s property. Linda tried to swallow past the lump in her throat. She hadn’t wanted to believe it, but she’d seen the hat, smashed flat with incriminating tire marks on the brim. If Ben hadn’t started the fire, he had been there, and he had participated willingly in destroying someone’s property. The fact that Linda didn’t want to believe it didn’t make it false.
Linda handed Nora a cupcake. “The sun’s already gone down. We need to clean up and get to the dunes before it’s too dark to see our way.”
Elmer Lee fished in his pocket and pulled out a small flashlight. “Just in case we need it.”
Linda growled. “I told you no flashlights, Elmer Lee. It will ruin your night vision, and you won’t be able to see the stars as well.”
“I’ve got to have a flashlight or I’ll trip over my own feet,” Cathy said. “I won’t be able to drive you home if I break my hip. I brought two flashlights, twelve hundred lumens each.”
There was no arguing with that, even though Linda knew for a fact that Cathy had two titanium hips and wouldn’t break either of them ever again. Fortunately, Linda had already made a plan. Maybe it was inappropriate, but she wanted to be alone with Ben. Maybe he would slip his arm around her while they gazed up at the sky. Maybe she’d have a chance to breathe in his enticing smell or smooth her hand along his jawline. Maybe he’d sing her one of those Englisch love songs he listened to on the radio.
Of course, with the way he was acting right now, she’d be lucky if he didn’t venture off by himself and get lost in the foothills. Nothing killed the romantic mood like a search and rescue.
Ben surprised her by helping her clean up the food and then giving her a genuine smile. “Denki for dinner. I was starving.”
She returned his smile. “I could tell. Have they stopped feeding you at your house?”
His smile faded. “Jah. I guess they have.”
Linda’s heart lurched. She’d been making a joke. Was starvation part of his punishment? In that case, she’d take him a meal every day. Ben deserved to be well fed, even if he was a dumkoff when he was with Simeon and Wally.
Elmer Lee offered Cathy his arm, and Nora held Cathy’s hand. Elmer Lee and Nora were on “Cathy duty” tonight, and they were participating cheerfully because Linda had offered to do their chores for a whole week. In exchange for not filling Mamm in on the details of their visit to the sand dunes, they got donuts for a whole month. Linda felt crafty and devious and adventurous all at the same time. She would never lie to Mamm, but what Mamm didn’t know about Ben couldn’t make her angry or anxious. She was better off blissfully ignorant.
Besides, Cathy wasn’t going to make it very far up the dunes, and it wasn’t likely she would stop talking so they could hear the owls and the coyotes. Linda wanted Ben to have the whole experience—watching the stars, listening to the sounds of the night, feeling the darkness envelop him like a blanket. It was the most peaceful place on Earth, and from what Linda could see, Ben desperately needed some peace.
Cathy tromped toward the dunes flanked by Elmer Lee and Nora. “I haven’t been here since I came with Esther’s sister, Ivy. Ivy got a little impatient about leaving, and I had to throw my car keys into the sand to get her to stop pestering me. It took us almost an hour to find them. I think she learned her lesson.”
Ben glanced at Linda and smiled. If nothing else, Cathy gave them a reason to share secret smiles with each other. Linda couldn’t be irritated about that.
Linda nodded curtly at Elmer Lee, and he nodded back, a sign of the agreement they’d made earlier.
Elmer Lee turned on his flashlight, even though it wasn’t all that dark, and directed the light on the path in front of Cathy’s feet. “Thank you kindly, young man,” Cathy said. “As soon as we get there, I’ll tell you all about my gout.”
Linda pulled off her shoes and stuffed them in her bag.
Ben studied her bare feet. “Should I take off my boots?”
“Jah. Ashley says the sand on your feet is therapeutic.”
“What does that mean?”
“It’s gute for you.”
Ben puckered his lips as if he’d just licked a lemon. “Like essential oils?”
Linda laughed. “Jah. Like essential oils.”
Even though he was skeptical about essential oils, Ben took off his boots and slung them over his shoulder with his fist wrapped around the laces. Linda draped her blanket over her arm. Her heart lodged in her throat as she reached out, boldly took Ben’s hand in hers, and pulled him in the direction of the sand dunes. By the look on his face, he was obviously surprised, though he tried to hide his shock by turning his face away and studying the distant hills as if he might find something interesting up there. But he didn’t run away screaming. He didn’t even pull his
hand away.
Linda thought she might faint with relief or leap for joy. She didn’t know what he was thinking, but he hadn’t let go of her hand. That had to be a gute sign.
Leaving Cathy and her attendants behind, Linda tugged Ben up the first sand dune and on to the next one. Ben glanced behind him. “What about the others?”
“We’ve got to get away from the flashlight. It’s not as good if you have a flashlight.”
“Okay,” Ben said. It sounded like a question.
Was he suspicious, curious, or reluctant? Ach, vell, she wasn’t going to turn back now. “How far do you want to walk?” she said.
He tensed. “How far do you want to go?”
She pointed to one of the peaks in the distance. “I can still beat you up that mountain and back without breaking a sweat, but I don’t want to tire you out.”
His lips curled into a tentative smile. “I’m in better shape than I’ve ever been. You’ll never beat me again.”
Linda laughed. “Ach, you can tell yourself that if it makes you feel better.”
He grunted but didn’t argue. He was probably already planning their next hike. She hoped he’d plan a hundred hikes. She’d go on a hike with him every day for the rest of her life if he asked.
Linda glanced behind her. They were already well away from the crowds, and they had left Cathy, Elmer Lee, and Nora far behind. “We don’t want to go too far, or we might get lost in the dark.”
His eyes danced in amusement. “You should have brought a flashlight so we could find our way back.”
“No flashlights. It’s just not right.” Linda led Ben up and down two more dunes until they were far enough away to suit her. Darkness descended suddenly, and Linda was grateful for the tiny flashlight she had hidden in the bottom of her bag. Despite all her protests, they’d need to find their way back to Cathy’s car.
Linda pulled the blanket from the bag, and Ben helped her spread it on the sand. She’d chosen a lap quilt so Ben would have to sit close. No king-sized quilts allowed tonight. She wanted to do some cuddling. She sat down and gave Ben her best smile, though it was too dark for the look to have the impact it would have in the sunlight, or at least the impact she hoped it would have. Was she overconfident? Was she fooling herself to think Ben was as interested as she was?
The Amish Quiltmaker's Unruly In-Law Page 14
