The Amish Quiltmaker's Unruly In-Law

by Jennifer Beckstrand

  Levi sighed. “Then God has another plan.”

  “It would be wonderful gute if God’s plan and my plan lined up.”

  Levi laughed. “I don’t expect that happens very often, but God’s plan is always the best one, no matter what.”

  Ben sighed. “I hope you’re right.” But if he couldn’t win Linda, he didn’t care about any other plan.

  His love for Linda was the only thing that mattered.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Linda smiled so much her cheeks hurt. Dat always said that if you wanted to feel happy, you should pretend to be happy until you were happy. Usually if Linda was in a bad mood, smiling made her feel better, even if she didn’t feel like smiling.

  Today wasn’t one of those days. She had whistled a painfully cheery tune while gathering eggs and mucking out the barn. She’d smiled all the way to work and all the way back. She’d laughed at customers’ jokes, even if they weren’t funny, and she’d spread extra jam on her roll at dinner even though Mamm gave her the stink eye.

  Nope. She didn’t feel any better. She hadn’t felt better for weeks, and all the smiling was getting her was a headache and premature wrinkle lines around her mouth. She really should give up smiling altogether. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, to smile about.

  And here she was again, at the only city park in Byler, hanging out with die youngie and trying not to think about Ben Kiem and his aggravatingly handsome face. She was also making an extra effort not to think about the way he’d refused to leave her, even when he thought he would get arrested, or the way he held her in his arms right after they saw the bear.

  Linda sighed, popped the last piece of pretzel into her mouth, and squared her shoulders. She refused to think about Ben for one more minute. It wasn’t practical, it wasn’t healthy, and it was completely futile. Ben might as well have lived in another state or been born a hundred years before her. He was nobody she needed to worry about, and she was wasting her energy pining for him.

  “Do you want to play volleyball, Linda?” Freeman said. “We could be on the same team.”

  She should be worrying about Freeman, who came every morning to help with the horses and looked at Linda as if she were a chocolate donut with sprinkles on top. Ach. Freeman was a wonderful nice boy, but she didn’t love him. She knew what love felt like, and Freeman wasn’t it. She pressed her lips together. She hadn’t started out loving Ben either. Maybe she shouldn’t give up so easily. Freeman might be the very man to help her forget Ben. It wasn’t likely, but she should at least give the relationship half a chance.

  “I’ll join you in a minute,” she said.

  “Okay,” Freeman said. “I’ll save you a place next to me.”

  Ach. Who saved places in volleyball? Apparently Freeman, who was getting too attached to Linda when she didn’t even know if she wanted him to. She didn’t have the heart to play volleyball. She didn’t have the heart for anything. Ben had completely ruined every good memory of snowshoeing, camping, and hiking she ever had.

  A buggy crawled slowly up the road before pulling into the parking lot. Ben and his little sister Ellen got out, and Linda almost lost her lunch. And her dinner. What was he doing here? Didn’t he know he wasn’t wanted?

  He wore a cream-colored shirt with suspenders and dark trousers and looked very typically Amish. He would have fit in with any Amish gathering where people didn’t know what he truly was.

  Ben put his arm around Ellen and said something to her that Linda was too far away to hear. Ach, yes. This was Ellen’s first time at a gathering. She had just turned sixteen. It looked like Ben was trying to reassure her. A lump stuck in Linda’s throat. Ben was always tender and sweet like that with the people he loved. It was one of his best qualities. He smiled at Ellen like a protective big bruder and nudged her toward Linda and the other young people.

  Ellen ambled over tentatively, finding one of her friends in the small group. Ben leaned against the buggy, seemingly content to watch Ellen, but making no move to come closer. Linda breathed a sigh of relief and ignored the feeling of profound disappointment she had no business feeling. She had moved on from Ben Kiem. No reason to feel disappointed, especially since he’d ruin everything if he stayed. Nobody liked him, nobody wanted him around, and nobody was sorry that he didn’t want to be part of the group.

  The thought made Linda a little sad until she remembered that Ben was responsible for his own choices. He had to live with the consequences.

  When you pick up one end of a stick, you pick up the other end too.

  Linda didn’t notice that Ellen had moved in her direction until she was standing right next to her. “Vie gehts, Linda?”

  “Hallo, Ellen. It’s wunderbarr to see you. Is this your first gathering?”

  Ellen nodded eagerly. “But I’m not nervous or anything. Ben said I’m the second prettiest girl here and not to worry.”

  A genuine smile tugged at Linda’s mouth. “Second prettiest? What a thing to say.”

  Ellen blushed to her toes. “He says you’re the prettiest, and I don’t mind being second to you.”

  Linda’s mouth went dry. “Ach. That is very nice.”

  “Ben is nice to everyone, even though Dat says . . .” Ellen lowered her eyes. “I love Ben. He’s just been through a rough patch, as Nanna likes to say. But on Sunday he told the whole family he’s sorry and said he’d do all our chores from now on to make up for what he’s done. Henry and Martha Mae cheered until Mamm told them they weren’t getting out of chores, even if Ben is sorry.”

  Linda furrowed her brow. “Ach. I see.”

  “Ellen,” someone behind them called. “Come play volleyball.”

  Ellen’s gaze flicked in the direction of the game. “I’m not very gute, but I like to play.” She turned to go and then twirled back around. “Ach, I almost forgot. Ben has something to tell you, and he asked me to ask you if you wouldn’t mind going over there and talking to him.” She inclined her head toward Ben’s buggy. “He doesn’t want to impose—he said that three times. ‘Be sure she knows I don’t want to impose.’ But if you will talk to him, he would be wonderful grateful.”

  Linda’s heart leaped into her throat. She glanced at Ben, standing resolutely next to his buggy, as if the only reason he’d come was to talk to Linda. “What does he want to talk about?” Her voice sounded agitated, even to her.

  Ellen shrugged. “I don’t know. But he probably wants to apologize for something. He’s been apologizing to everybody. He spent an hour and a half in Mamm and Dat’s bedroom apologizing, and Levi says he went to that farmer down the road and apologized for the fire. Like I said, he’s apologizing to everybody.”

  Linda didn’t know if she believed it. Ben dug in his heels more often than he felt remorse for anything. Ben would rather blame someone else for his problems before he ever took responsibility for himself. Besides, the last person she wanted to talk to was Ben. Why would she want to stir up old memories that had taken her so much effort to bury? “Will you tell him he doesn’t need to apologize to me? I’m fine. He can cross me off his list.”

  Ellen frowned. “He said you wouldn’t want to talk to him, but he said to tell you that he’d follow you home and sit out on your porch until you talked to him. He says he’s willing to sleep out there, and I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not have a boy sleep on my porch. It would be strange.”

  So much for not wanting to impose. For sure and certain, Ben could be a dumkoff sometimes, like that time he quit cigarettes just because he wanted to beat her in a race. It was something she loved about him, even if she didn’t love him anymore. “Okay. I’ll talk to him,” she said, if for no other reason than to get him to leave her alone once and for all.

  “And remember, he said he doesn’t want to impose.”

  Linda stifled a bitter laugh. Ben Kiem was the biggest imposition of her entire life.

  “Linda, come play.” Freeman motioned to her from the game.

  Linda huffed ou
t a breath. Boys! She was sick of the whole lot of them.

  She thought about taking Ben a cookie or something from the eats table, but if he wanted a cookie that badly, he could just come over and get one himself. She glanced in his direction. Should she sneak behind his buggy, so no one saw her talking to Ben Kiem, the boy who burned down sheds and went to drug parties? Or should she march right over there so Ben knew she didn’t really care what he thought about her?

  She decided to march, to let Ben know how much of an inconvenience it was to go all the way across the park to hear what he had to say, which probably wasn’t worth hearing. She didn’t need or want an apology. Maybe she wouldn’t even let him talk, just give him a piece of her mind or maybe a sermon on following the Ordnung. Then she could march away, and he wouldn’t be able to catch her on that sore ankle.

  Just in time, she reminded herself that Ben was simply another boy in the gmayna. She had no reason to be annoyed with him, no reason to feel hurt. She felt nothing for him but the general concern that every member of the body of Christ should feel for every other member. She’d forgiven him, and that was the end of it. But, oh, sis yuscht, how was she supposed to be indifferent when he was so handsome?

  Even as handsome as he was, he didn’t look very gute. There was a long, thin scab down his upper lip, and his cheek glowed purple with a tinge of yellow and blue, the lingering effects of the unfortunate incident last week. She pasted a smile onto her lips. A practical girl wouldn’t be swayed by a few bruises and a pathetic face.

  Slowing her pace, she stretched her smile tighter. If you want to be happy, you have to act happy. “Hallo, Ben. Ellen said you wanted to talk to me.”

  “I did,” he said, his voice achingly deep and earnest. “I’m sorry to impose.”

  Too late for that apology.

  “How are you?” he asked.

  How are you? Surely that wasn’t why he’d asked her to come all the way over here. “I’m fine,” she said in clipped tones that hopefully broadcast her disinterest in anything he had to say.

  He studied her face for what seemed like three years, his eyes deep pools of unhappiness. For a boy who had been so eager to talk, it seemed he had nothing to say.

  She folded her arms. “Freeman really needs me in that volleyball game.”

  His eyes flashed at the mention of Freeman. It brought Linda a small measure of satisfaction even as she felt guilty for the emotion. It was wrong to use Freeman as a way to get back at Ben. It was all such a mess, and she wanted to go home and bury her head in her pillow. So, of course, she smiled like a cat.

  “It’s nice to see you, Ben. Your face is healing well, and it looks as if you didn’t break your ankle. I’m froh for that.” She turned to walk away. “Maybe we’ll see you at gmay on Sunday.” Because I care about you as a member of the district, not for any other reason. Hopefully, he caught the dismissal in her voice.

  “Wait, Linda. Please wait.” He took off his hat and scrubbed his fingers through his hair. “I just . . . I’ve rehearsed this in my head a hundred times, but there’s so much to say and the words fill my mouth, but I can’t speak.”

  The intensity of emotion she saw in his eyes nearly broke her heart. She remembered the first time she’d gone to Esther’s house to pick up Ben for snowshoeing. She’d seen a boy who yearned for approval and ached for acceptance. She’d seen a boy who clutched his heart tightly to his chest, afraid someone would snatch it out of his hands and break it.

  Linda pressed her lips together and looked away. She didn’t care. She didn’t care. “Ben, it’s alright. I don’t need an apology. I’m not going to pretend I wasn’t upset, but you bear no responsibility for that. And everything turned out well. Please don’t worry about it for another moment.” The pained look on his face didn’t go away. She sighed. What did he want her to say? “I need to get back.” She glanced at the volleyball game. “But just so you know, you were never my project.”

  He nodded. “I know. I made that up to protect myself.”

  Well, at least he admitted it. “Okay. Gute. Take care of yourself.”

  “Wait, Linda.” He reached out his hand as if to touch her but let it fall to his side. He was trembling. “Do you still feel the way you did that night at the sand dunes?”

  She cocked an eyebrow and pretended to not understand the question. “Angry? Irritated? Glad I’d brought my flashlight?”

  “You . . . you told me you loved me.”

  Nae, she wasn’t going back to the sand dunes to sift through the memories. “That was a long time ago.”

  “Not that long.”

  She certainly wouldn’t argue how long it had been. If she measured the time in sleepless nights and tears on her pillow, it had been a very long time indeed. “Did you have something you wanted to say to me?”

  Ben limped a few feet closer, wincing with every step. “Linda, it’s been so long since I’ve allowed myself to feel anything but anger and bitterness. But when I spent time with you, I finally felt like I could breathe, like I didn’t have to play a part or meet your expectations. I didn’t even know what had happened until I was in the middle of it. When I realized how I felt about you, it scared me. I was afraid that when you knew what kind of a person I really was, you’d reject me.” He closed his eyes. “I couldn’t go through that pain again, so I ran.”

  The memory of that night lodged like a shard of glass in her throat. “You said some very unfair things.”

  “I was harsh, and I hurt your feelings.”

  Linda shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. It does no good to cry over spilt milk. I’ve forgiven you. You can forgive yourself.”

  “But that’s just it. I can’t forgive myself.” He grabbed her upper arms and pulled her dangerously close. She was too stunned to pull away. “I’m tortured every day knowing what I’ve lost.” He seemed to come to himself. Releasing her arms, he grimaced and stepped away from her. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have . . .” He pressed his fingers to his forehead. “I love you, Linda, and I always will.”

  Linda’s heart felt like a lumbering, heavy freight train thudding inside her chest. How dare he say this to her? Didn’t he know he’d burned all his bridges? Didn’t he know she had been forced to move on without him? “I don’t know that I believe you,” she said. “When you love someone, you don’t hurt them.”

  “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

  Ach. She shouldn’t have said that. It made her look weak. “I didn’t mean you hurt me specifically. I just meant that if you love someone, you should treat them better than you treated me.”

  “For sure and certain,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

  “You don’t have to apologize. I forgive you.” She nearly turned on her heels and marched away, but she was honest enough with herself to know she didn’t sound sincere or truly forgiving. And the look on his face was pure agony. She sighed and tried for a genuine smile, which turned out to be impossible. “Ben, I truly do forgive you. Please don’t worry about it anymore.”

  “I do want your forgiveness, Linda, for sure and certain, but I also want your love.” Pain and longing etched deep lines into his face. “I’m not asking you to wait for me. That wouldn’t be fair, not after all I’ve put you through, but starting right now, I’m going to be a better man. I’ve stopped drinking. I’ve stopped smoking. I’m not seeing Zoe anymore, and I’ve apologized to my parents. Someday I’m going to be the man you deserve.”

  The fiery intensity in his eyes sent Linda’s heart racing. A man like Ben, armed with virtue and purpose, would be formidable indeed. But she didn’t dare count on him. In the past, his resolve had been as strong as tissue paper. “I . . . I don’t know what to say, Ben.”

  “Say it’s not too late.”

  “It’s not fair for you to ask me that.”

  “You’re right.”

  She couldn’t stand the thought of hurting him, and she would never, ever be cruel, but she had to protect her own heart. Getting it stomped on once was
enough pain for a lifetime. She looked down at her hands. “It just . . . it just hurt so bad. You went out of your way to do things to upset me. You wanted me to stop loving you, didn’t you?”

  “I wanted to prove that it was impossible to love me.”

  And that was why she couldn’t assure him. Ben had proven himself unpredictable and reckless, and Linda couldn’t count on anything he said, even if she used to love him. Even if he still had a large piece of her heart. “I worked hard to get over you,” she said. “I’m sorry, Ben, but I have to be practical. I hope all the best for you, but I won’t make a promise I can’t keep.”

  “I wouldn’t want you to.” What little light he had in his eyes faded to nothing.

  She glanced behind her. “I . . . I need to get back.”

  “I know,” he said flatly. “An urgent volleyball game.”

  She had convinced herself that Ben couldn’t hurt her anymore, but her heart ached so sharply she couldn’t breathe. “May the Lord be with you,” she said.

  “I meant what I said. I’ll be worthy of you someday, Linda, and I won’t trouble you again until I am.”

  Linda turned and walked away before the tears began to flow. Ben certainly didn’t need to see that. She certainly didn’t need to look back.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “I shouldn’t have come,” Linda whispered, as she spread mayonnaise on a slice of bread.

  Mary Ann rolled her eyes. “Nonsense. Surely it’s not still awkward between you and Ben.”

  Awkward? Linda couldn’t keep her gaze from straying to Ben every ten seconds, and Ben was completely ignoring her. It wasn’t awkward. It was downright agonizing. If he loved her, why did Ben persist in avoiding her, going out of his way to stay at least twenty feet away from her at all times?

  Linda immediately chastised herself for such a foolish thought. Of course she wanted Ben to stay away. She had to protect herself, and being around Ben was dangerous. And what did she expect? The last time they talked, she had given Ben a wonderful harsh set-down.