Linda and Mary Ann and a dozen other women, Amish and Englisch alike, stood under the Batemans’ maple tree in an assembly line of sorts making sandwiches for the noon meal. Cathy was at the front of the line, putting slices of bread on paper plates, alternating between whole wheat and white. Linda was the mayonnaise spreader, Mary Ann was in charge of mustard and horseradish sauce, which alternated between sandwiches. All the whole wheat sandwiches got mustard. All the white got horseradish. It was a gute way to keep the two kinds of sandwiches separate, but Linda felt bad for the men who preferred whole wheat with horseradish. They were going to be disappointed. Esther was on tomato and lettuce duty. Everybody got tomatoes and lettuce whether they wanted them or not.
At least twenty-five men and boys, Amish and Englisch, and a few Englisch women were working on erecting a steel building on Bateman’s property. After Ben had apologized to him, Mr. Bateman had asked Ben if he could organize a group to build him a garage for his truck and tractor. Mr. Bateman had paid to have the cement poured, and all the neighbors had come together to put up the building. It was as close to an old-fashioned barn raising as it got. It was a community event.
Ben’s ex-girlfriend Zoe was there too, though she didn’t look at all comfortable. She was at the far end of the table, cutting sandwiches in half and setting them at the end of the table for easy pickup. While Ben hadn’t ignored Zoe like he had Linda, there didn’t seem to be anything particular between them. Cathy was the one who had invited Zoe, and she had come in her red truck and brought her hammer.
Linda gave into the temptation to glance in Ben’s direction again. He was hefting long pieces of metal from the truck and stacking them into a pile to use for the support beams on the garage. He had always had strong arms and broad shoulders, but they were even more noticeable when Ben did heavy lifting. His muscles bulged under the weight of the metal beams, and sweat dampened the back of his shirt. It was impossible to look away. Good thing Linda could spread mayonnaise and gawk at Ben at the same time.
Cathy handed Linda a plate with two pieces of bread on it. “No offense, but you’re being a little stingy with the mayonnaise.”
Linda pulled her gaze from the activity on the other side of the yard and looked at Cathy. “If you put too much on, the sandwich gets gloopy.”
“True, but your mayonnaise is about three atoms thick. Trust me, they’ll like more than less.”
“Okay. I’ll put more on.” Linda scooped another dollop of mayonnaise out of the jar with her knife and found Ben again in the crowd.
Cathy noticed where Linda’s gaze had strayed. “Ben looks like a different person. I can’t say anything about the state of his soul, but he looks much better, don’t you think?”
Linda felt her face get warm. She looked away and concentrated hard on getting just the right amount of mayonnaise on the slice of bread. “Um, yes. He looks good.” Good was maybe an understatement. A month ago, he wore the dull expression of someone who drank too much and abused his body with little sleep and lots of cigarettes. Now he was almost unrecognizable, tan and energetic, working twice as fast as some of the other men and looking half as weary. His brown eyes seemed to dance as he interacted with the others, giving them instructions and organizing their work. It was gute Linda had such strong resolve when it came to Ben, or his strong jaw, thick eyebrows, and commanding presence would have made her giddy.
Cathy squinted in his direction. “I know you and Ben aren’t dating anymore, but I think we should invite him to go swimming. I really want to see that tattoo.”
An Englisch girl down the line nudged the girl next to her and pointed to the group of working men. “I don’t mind making sandwiches when I have a view like this.”
Linda pressed her lips together. She could definitely watch Ben work all day long, no matter what he was doing. And it really wasn’t right to feel that way. A practical and sensible girl would remember that she had moved on, that Ben was likely to break her heart again if she gave him another chance, and that it was better to marry a dependable, faithful Amish boy than one who would leave her at the sand dunes in the middle of the night. Besides, she’d told him to his face that she wasn’t interested. She’d look flighty if she changed her mind. And Linda was anything but flighty.
Cathy handed Linda the last slices of bread. “I’m going to move to the other end of the table and help Zoe pass out chips. Be sure you mind your mayonnaise.”
Linda smiled. “I will.”
She and Mary Ann finished spreading mayonnaise and mustard while they watched the metal supports go up. Simeon worked alongside Ben, following him with metal for the pile, helping him when something heavy required two people to carry it. Simeon didn’t have the same need to ignore perfectly nice Amish girls making sandwiches. He set down a metal support, looked up at Mary Ann, and waved. Mary Ann giggled and waved back with a paper towel in her hand.
“Simeon has changed,” Linda said, nudging Mary Ann with her elbow. “It’s all your doing. He likes you.”
Mary Ann turned red as a beet. “Simeon wants to do what’s right. He just needed some encouragement.” She eyed Linda. “Ben has changed too.”
Linda pulled her gaze from Ben. “He has, I guess.”
“So why are you still avoiding him?”
“I don’t avoid him. I’m just a girl going about my life. We don’t really have much to do with each other, kind of like me and most of the boys in the gmayna.” Linda watched Ben throw a beam over his shoulder and carry it up a ladder. She swallowed hard. Ben was not like most of the boys in the gmayna. “Besides, he acts like I don’t exist.”
Mary Ann snorted her disapproval. “Acts like you don’t exist? He hovers around you like a moth to a light.”
“He does not. He won’t come within ten feet of me.”
“It’s not the distance that matters so much as the connection,” Mary Ann said. “You pull him into your orbit like the Earth attracts the moon.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I never was gute at science.”
Mary Ann squeezed Linda’s hand, getting a smear of mayonnaise on her finger. “Everything, everything Ben does is for you. Do you realize that?”
Linda’s heart drummed an uneven rhythm. She didn’t dare hope that was true, and even if it was, how long before Ben got bored with his life and ran off with Zoe or started smoking cigars? “Ben apologized to the entire gmayna, scrubbed spray paint off the sidewalk by the library and helped Jim Palmer bring in his hay. None of those things have anything to do with me.”
Mary Ann nodded. “They have everything to do with how Ben feels about you. I’ve never seen a boy so single-minded in my entire life.”
“He hasn’t said a word to me for a whole month.” But shouldn’t she be happy about that? He was honoring her wishes and doing his best not to bother her. What more could she want?
“Well, you don’t give him any encouragement. You’ve got to light a match if you want to start a fire.”
Linda slumped her shoulders. “I don’t want to get hurt again.”
“That’s silly, Linda. Isn’t that why Ben broke things off with you in the first place? Because he didn’t want to risk getting hurt again?”
Silly. Linda sucked in a breath as a memory hit her between the eyes. Ben hated that word. His disgusted expression at being called silly always made her smile.
Mary Ann spread the mustard on the final slice of bread. “You’ve got to take some risks. I can’t believe I have to tell you that. You ski and hike and swim. You’re braver than any girl I know.”
Practical Linda warred with her sentimental side, but she didn’t really have a sentimental side, so it wasn’t much of a battle. Had Ben really changed, or was his transformation temporary? Did she truly want to give him another chance to break her heart? His change of heart certainly seemed more permanent this time. Esther had told Linda about the alcohol withdrawals, which sounded even worse than the cigarette withdrawals. According to Esther, Wally w
ouldn’t leave Ben alone, harassing him all hours of the day and night, trying to get him to go out drinking or partying with him and his Englisch friends. But Ben hadn’t gone out with Wally once, even though he didn’t have any other friends.
Once the sandwiches were ready to go, Cathy whistled loudly to call all the men and boys to eat. Linda wasn’t sure who had put Cathy in charge, but since she seemed so eager to do it, nobody protested. The entire group gathered, and Cathy said a blessing on the food. Everyone, men and women, lined up for a sandwich. Ben kept letting others go before him, and he was soon at the back of the line. Linda’s throat got tighter and tighter the closer Ben inched toward her in the line. There were three boxes containing small bags of chips. Cathy assigned Linda the Cheetos box. Linda had never seen Ben eat a Cheeto. Surely he didn’t like them. She wouldn’t even have to talk to him.
“Denki for making lunch for us.”
She’d been concentrating so hard on not watching Ben creep closer that she jumped out of her skin when she looked up and he was standing right in front of her. She yanked her arm out of the Cheetos box, bumping it hard with her elbow. It overturned and tumbled to the ground. Bright orange bags of Cheetos scattered across the grass in every direction.
“Ach, du lieva,” Linda said. She couldn’t have chosen a worse time to be clumsy. She knelt down, turned the box right side up, and started filling it with Cheetos bags.
“Here, let me help.”
“No need. I can do it.”
“I want to help.” Ben got down on his hands and knees and crawled under the table to her side. Now he was eye level with Linda and so close she could see the faint growth of whiskers on his jaw.
He picked up a bag and handed it to her.
“Denki,” she said, making the mistake of looking into his eyes. They were dotted with little flecks of gold and so deep she could definitely drown in them. Ach, she was going to faint. But she wouldn’t faint because sensible girls did not faint.
He leaned closer, and time seemed to stop as they stared at each other. Then he reached out his hand and brushed his thumb tenderly down her cheek. She instinctively pulled away. He pointed to her face. “You, uh, you had a piece of grass right there.”
“Ach. Okay. Denki,” Linda said breathlessly. She hadn’t been this close to Ben since she’d told him she loved him at the sand dunes. She reached under the table to pick up the last chip bag, lifted her head too fast, and banged it against the bottom of the table. She gasped and pressed her palm to the top of her head.
Ben wrapped his hands around her upper arms. “Are you okay?”
She couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. His touch was firm but gentle, his eyes full of concern. It felt so good to be this close to him again. So good and so perilous. His hands fell from her arms as she quickly shoved the last bag into the box. “Jah. I’m okay.”
“Can I do anything for you?”
She gritted her teeth, unwilling to let his compassion steal her resolve. “Nae.” She pushed the box of chips in his direction. “Um, well, take a bag of Cheetos, if you want.”
A half-smile curled onto his lips. “Denki. I love Cheetos.”
“I do too,” she said, even though at that moment, she couldn’t remember if she liked Cheetos or not. He turned to crawl back under the table to get to the other side. “Oh, uh, the white bread sandwiches have horseradish,” Linda said. “The whole wheat ones are mustard. I know you like horseradish, so I wanted to warn you.”
He gazed at her, his eyes shining. “You remembered.”
“I . . . uh. Jah.” Of course she remembered. How could she forget that day in the meadow at the top of Rock Creek Trail when he was so appreciative of the sandwich she’d made for him? How could she forget the way Ben had pressed forward even though his leg was bleeding? She’d always remember the way he looked at her when the valley came into view. Jah. She remembered all right. She’d never been happier than in the times she’d spent with Ben, and all she had left were memories, memories she wanted to pack in a box and forget. Ach, how she wished she could forget.
He stared at her as if he was going to say something then seemed to think better of it. He stood and walked around the table. He must have decided it was easier than crawling.
He got back in line and picked up a plate with a white bread sandwich. He smiled at Zoe and talked with her for a minute. Linda caught her bottom lip between her teeth. Did Ben still have feelings for Zoe? Did he ever have feelings for her, or was he just hanging out with Zoe to annoy Linda? It didn’t seem like he had feelings for her now. He was polite and friendly but didn’t betray any particular interest in her.
Ben didn’t even so much as glance at Linda again. And suddenly she craved his attention so badly her stomach hurt. Why did she still feel this way? She should be over Ben by now, and the way her heart fluttered and her thoughts raced wildly from one thought to the next almost made her wish he had ignored her altogether.
Once everyone was served, they sat on the grass under the shade of Bateman’s two large trees and ate lunch. Linda steered clear of Ben’s side of the yard, and sat with Cathy, Mary Ann, Zoe, and newly-married Mayne Schmucker.
Cathy twitched her lips in disgust. “I don’t know why I took this sandwich. It’s a gluten nightmare.”
“I’m sorry, Grandma. I should have brought some gluten-free bread,” Zoe said.
Mary Ann had only met Zoe once, that time in the park when they’d invited Simeon, Ben, and Wally to play volleyball. “Ach, is Cathy your grandmother?”
Cathy shook her head. “I’ve adopted Zoe as an honorary granddaughter.”
“Both my grandmothers are dead,” Zoe said. “Cathy agreed to be my grandma, and I really needed one that night at Kevin’s house.”
“We girls have to stick together,” Cathy said.
Mayne eyed Zoe, sniffed once, and looked away. Zoe definitely wasn’t the normal Englisch girl who came to these sorts of things. Mayne didn’t understand how much Zoe had already changed. Her lips were a light shade of pink, and she’d done something different with her hair so it fell down over her ears in a more natural style. Her makeup was still dark and heavy, but she no longer had the thick black lines under her eyes.
“I like your hair,” Linda said.
Zoe tucked a lock behind her ear. “Thanks. I’m growing it out and letting the natural color come in. I don’t even exactly remember what my natural color is.” She opened her bag of chips. “Linda, I wanted to thank you for coming with Cathy that night at Kevin’s and for getting us out of there.”
Linda shook her head. “I didn’t really do anything.”
“You cared enough to come. I was jealous that Ben and Wally had a community of friends who cared about them enough to come and get them. And then Cathy made me leave too, and I sort of felt like I had a family for the first time in my life.”
Linda gave Zoe a tentative smile. Cathy was right. Girls needed to watch out for each other. Even though Ben had made a fool of himself with Zoe, Zoe was not Linda’s enemy. “Zoe, I want to apologize.”
“What for?”
“I called you Raccoon Girl behind your back. It wasn’t nice.”
Zoe smirked. “It’s okay. I’ve heard worse. Besides, I get it. You were jealous.”
Linda didn’t dare comment on that. Of course she’d been jealous, but how did Zoe know? It was best to change the subject. “I haven’t seen Wally for a while. Do you know how he’s doing?”
Zoe crossed her legs and propped her elbows on her knees. “Not good. Ben’s his best friend. They’ve always watched out for each other, like that night at Kevin’s place. Even though Wally got mad at Ben for trying to protect him, he was grateful once he got out of there. But Wally feels like Ben has cut him off, abandoned him to be with the self-righteous Amish people.” Zoe glanced at Linda and Mary Ann. “Sorry. That’s just what Wally said. He’s mad at Ben because Ben won’t hang out with him anymore, and he’s mad at Linda because he thinks it’s all Linda’s f
ault. Even I don’t hang out with him very much. He likes to look for trouble, and he’s so angry all the time.”
Linda’s heart sank. “He thinks it’s my fault?”
“He needs counseling,” Cathy said, squinting at the ingredients list on her bag of chips.
“Wally’s looking to blame everyone but himself,” Zoe said. “He’ll get over it, but he sure misses Ben and Simeon.”
Mary Ann kept casting longing glances in Simeon’s direction. “Maybe we should go over and sit with Ben and Simeon.” They were sitting by themselves apart from everyone else. “They look so lonely over there.”
“This is a gute spot,” Mayne said. “It’s shady.”
Cathy was oblivious to Mary Ann’s eagerness. “They’re fine. Ben’s the broody, lone-wolf type. He likes being by himself.”
Mary Ann frowned. “I don’t think so. Ben doesn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable, and Simeon doesn’t want him to be alone.”
“Why does he think he makes people uncomfortable?” Linda asked, even though she knew the answer as soon as the words came out of her mouth.
Zoe stretched her feet out in front of her. “It’s not my place to tell you how to treat people, but he doesn’t think he fits in anywhere, not even with you guys.”
Mayne stuck her nose slightly into the air. “We can’t just forgive them like nothing happened. They’ve got to prove themselves.”
“Nae, Mayne,” Mary Ann said, anger flashing in her eyes. “That’s exactly what we’re supposed to do. Forgive them and never speak of it again. Forgive them immediately and completely.”
Mayne sort of sputtered on her reply. “Well, I’ve . . . we’ve all forgiven them, but that doesn’t mean we trust them. Ben was very nice to organize the gmayna to help build this garage, but he burned down Mr. Bateman’s shed, and he’s a liar and a thief.”
Linda’s chest tightened with indignation. A liar and a thief. Mayne was talking about something that happened eight years ago. Could she truly not let it go? This is how the gmayna had seen Ben for all these years. Ben had been rejected by the community, and he had made friends with Wally and later Simeon because no one else wanted anything to do with him. Ben and Simeon were trying to make amends for the bad things they’d done, but it was as if people in the district were waiting for them to mess up again. Was that happening all over again? How long would Ben keep trying to prove himself before he just gave up?
The Amish Quiltmaker's Unruly In-Law Page 23
