Huckleberry Spring

by Jennifer Beckstrand

  “That doesn’t mean I should marry him.”

  “Of course not. You should only marry him if you really want to, not because he’s good-looking or spirited or has a heart of gold deep down in there somewhere. You should definitely love him first.”

  Lizzie blinked rapidly. “It doesn’t matter, because I am never speaking to him again.”

  “We’re supposed to forgive those who trespass against us.”

  “I’ll forgive him. Eventually. But I won’t set foot inside your house. And he can forget about ever getting another apple pie no matter how much he begs.”

  “It will be hard to finish our quilt if you won’t come in my house,” Emma said.

  “You can come to my house.”

  Emma did her best to smile. Let Lizzie think everything was all better. “I’ll come after supper tonight, and we can sew. Your machine is better anyway.”

  “Okay. Come over. Mamm won’t mind seeing you again.” Her lips twisted sheepishly, as if she wished she hadn’t just said that.

  “Oh.” Emma felt cold and empty. “She’s still mad at me because of Ben.”

  “She doesn’t understand.”

  “Yes, she does.” Emma’s throat constricted and she couldn’t have said one more word to save her life. It was all she could do to hold back the flood of tears that threatened to overflow at the slightest nudge.

  “Don’t ever say that, Emma. Ben is acting like an idiot. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

  There was her nudge. The dam broke. She covered her face with her hands and bawled like a stuck pig. “I kissed him,” she managed to blurt out. Might as well tell her everything. What did it matter anymore? If Lizzie knew the truth, maybe she would stop plaguing her with plans to get her back together with Ben.

  “Well, that’s not your fault. He kissed you. What were you supposed to do?”

  “No,” Emma sobbed. “No, not that.” She grabbed Lizzie’s hand and dragged her to the privacy of the woodshed. They dodged Dat’s table saw and sat in the middle of the floor amidst the sawdust. At least it smelled fresh.

  Lizzie stared at Emma, her expression a mix of sympathy and unrestrained curiosity.

  Emma’s voice shook uncontrollably, but she forged on. Lizzie should know the worst. “Two nights before he left me, we were sitting on the sofa and he seemed so unhappy. I wanted to cheer him up, so I leaned over and kissed him on the lips.”

  Lizzie’s jaw dropped open. “Oh, please, Emma. That’s not why he broke up with you.”

  “That and the fact that I can’t seem to put one foot in front of the other without tripping.”

  “Ben wouldn’t break up with you because you kissed him.”

  “He thinks I’m wicked.”

  Lizzie shook her head vigorously. “I know you, Emma. You are not wicked, and I can’t believe in a million years that Ben would ever think that of you. Everybody kisses when they’re dating, no matter what the bishop says. Besides, you and Ben were engaged. Kissing is expected.”

  Emma tried to stanch the water pouring from her eyes. “Don’t you see? His kiss today was a test. He wanted to know if I would resist temptation, and I didn’t. I kissed him right back.”

  Lizzie raised her brows and peered doubtfully at Emma. “I don’t mean to sound harsh, but that is really a stupid notion.”

  “It’s not, Lizzie. I’ve been replaying last summer in my mind over and over again, racking my brain, wondering what could have happened to make Ben stop loving me.” She clenched her fists. “He had reason enough because of the chicken coop, but the kiss cemented his mind against me. Before he broke our engagement, he withdrew from me, as if he couldn’t confide in me anymore. That’s probably the time he started having doubts. My kiss was enough to push him to leave me.”

  Lizzie rose her knees, took Emma by the shoulders, and pinned her with a serious gaze. “What did he do when you kissed him that first time?”

  “He acted as if I’d slammed his thumb in the door, as if he was thinking, ‘Emma, you’ve disappointed me.’”

  Lizzie drew back, as if she finally decided to at least consider what Emma told her. “I can’t imagine . . .” She shook her head. “I don’t understand him anymore.”

  They embraced. Even though neither of them understood Ben, they understood each other. For the moment, that was good enough.

  “Will you promise me something?” Emma asked.

  “What do you want?”

  “That we never talk about Ben again.”

  “I don’t know if I can promise you that. He’s my brother,” Lizzie said.

  “I mean, never talk about me and Ben getting back together. Never say another word about our past relationship or hope for a future one.”

  The corners of Lizzie’s mouth sagged, and she slowly bobbed her head up and down. “Seeing how it hurt you, I should have put a stop to such talk weeks ago. I can see how it affects you. I just didn’t want to believe that it was over.”

  “You’re a gute friend, even if you are annoyingly persistent.”

  A sad grin pried her lips apart. “I know I’m annoying.” She cleared her throat and spoke as if with great effort. “So let’s talk about Adam.”

  Emma stifled a sigh. She didn’t want to talk about Adam. “We played games with his parents last night. I think they like me okay.”

  Lizzie pasted on a fake smile. “He’s so good-looking. About ten girls had a crush on him in primary school.”

  “Mahlon always reminds me what a catch Adam is.”

  Lizzie’s eyes flashed with anger before the light seemed to go out inside her. “Will you promise me something?”

  “Never talk about Mahlon?”

  “Yep.”

  “We can’t talk about Mahlon, and we can’t talk about Ben, and I do not want to talk about Adam. Where does that leave us?”

  “We could talk about quilting,” Lizzie said.

  “Or horses. Or we could talk about cows and milk.”

  “Or we could talk about growing peas and pumpkins.”

  Emma took a deep, cleansing breath. “No pumpkins.”

  “Jah,” Lizzie said. “We can’t say a word about pumpkins or chicken coops.”

  Emma managed a half smile. “Or apple pies. Mahlon loves your apple pies.”

  Lizzie’s voice cracked. “I’d rather not talk about milking stools or the lake or ice cream either.”

  “We really can’t talk about anything, can we?” Emma said.

  Tears glistened in Lizzie’s eyes as she shook her head.

  Emma felt the stinging in her eyes too. She and Lizzie were quite a pair, both pining over young men who didn’t care one whit about them. She draped her arm around Lizzie’s shoulder, and neither of them said another word as they sat on the floor of the woodshed making the sawdust soggy with their tears.

  Chapter 14

  Ben stumbled to the toolshed. His legs reluctantly obeyed his commands. He rejoiced that he had even been able to stand this morning. All things considered, he did very well. The fear of a wheelchair had been the only thing that had motivated him to get out of bed. How close was he to losing his ability to walk? According to the doctor he’d seen last summer, it should have happened by now. Ben would be grateful for every extra day he got.

  He reached out to steady himself against the wall of the toolshed. His arms worked. If he could pull himself around to the door, he’d be able to get into the shed without much problem.

  Mammi’s pumpkin needed fertilizer, and they hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Emma for two weeks. Just thinking about her made Ben double over in pain. It was so much better that she stay away so he wouldn’t be able to hurt her. Regret and guilt would plague him for the rest of his life.

  How could he have lost control like that? He’d spent months steeling himself against Emma, and in one horrible moment he’d ruined everything. He thought his heart was already broken, but it had shattered into a thousand more pieces when he watched her flee down the hill.

  De
spair crawled down his throat and seeped into his lungs. He wanted to die. Why couldn’t the good Lord take him now and be done with it? It would be so much easier on everyone.

  His knees buckled, and he slumped to the ground with his back resting against the toolshed. He panted with exertion even though his exertion consisted of getting out of bed and walking outside. What to do now? He couldn’t very well call for Mammi to pull him off the ground. Even if he wanted her to know about his illness, which he didn’t, she wouldn’t be able to lift him even if he weighed half of what he did.

  He shifted to his hands and knees. Crawling was not a bad way to go, and if he lost his balance, he wouldn’t have far to fall. With more effort than it should have taken, he wormed his way to the door of the toolshed, lifted the latch, and crawled into the small space. Hopefully Emma had placed the fertilizer on the floor the last time she had used it.

  Straining with all his willpower, Ben pulled his entire body into the shed and let the door swing shut behind him. Lord willing, he would be able to work his way to his feet and emerge from the shed in a standing position. Mammi and Dawdi need never know his woes.

  He raised his head to see if he could locate the fertilizer and groaned as he met eyes with Dawdi, who sat on a three-legged stool sharpening a hoe.

  “Hello, Ben!”

  Ben sat back and tried to pretend that he crawled around on his hands and knees on a regular basis. “Dawdi, what are you doing out here? You had a root canal yesterday. You’re supposed to be resting.”

  Dawdi grinned. “Your mammi insists that I rest for your sake, but I figured what you don’t know won’t hurt you. I won’t ever be able to enjoy that recliner again.”

  “But Mammi said the root canal would plow you under for at least a week.”

  “Not even for a few hours.”

  Ben cocked an eyebrow. “Were you the one who oiled the buggy and repaired the harness strap?”

  “It’s much easier to oil a buggy without a deviated septum.”

  Ben chuckled. “Did you pick the peas too?”

  Dawdi took off his glasses and pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket. “I guess you caught me,” he said, shrugging as if he didn’t care. He wiped his spectacles, put them back on his nose, and peered at Ben as if he were in on some secret joke. “And I guess I caught you.”

  “Caught me?”

  Dawdi motioned in the direction of Ben’s legs. “How long has this been going on?”

  Ben’s heart sank. “Dawdi, please, you can’t tell anybody. I don’t want anybody to know.”

  “I’ve suspected for ages. You can’t keep that kind of secret from your dawdi. I’m sharp as a tack. When my young, sturdy grandson can’t even get out of bed in the morning, I know something’s wrong. The question is, how long has something been wrong?”

  Ben turned his face away and measured his answer. He didn’t want to lie to his dawdi, but he didn’t want anyone derailing his carefully laid plans. “I’m going through a bad spell, that’s all.”

  A bad spell that would kill him soon enough.

  Dawdi laid his file on the small work table, slid off his stool, and sat next to Ben on the floor. “I’ve been stewing about it for weeks. You’ve got some dread disease, don’t you? That’s why you called it off with Emma. That’s why you left your family without hardly a word.”

  “Please don’t ask me to explain.”

  “I don’t expect you’d tell me if you didn’t even tell your mamm or Emma. I’m far down on your list of people to tell, if you ever do.” He scooted closer and put a thin but strong arm around Ben. “If you need someone to hear you out, I’m a gute listener and I keep things to myself.”

  Ben felt his body suddenly, inexplicably relax, as if a taut wire inside him had snapped. He managed to pull his knees to his chin and wrap his arms around them. Sighing, he leaned his forehead on his knees. The sigh turned into a moan, which splintered into a deluge of tears. He’d been captive to this burden for so long. How relieved would he feel to share it with someone else?

  He choked on the brutal truth. “I’m dying, Dawdi.”

  Dawdi’s arm tightened around him. “Slowly or soon?”

  “I don’t know. Soon, the doctor said. I won’t be able to walk much longer.”

  Dawdi ruffled Ben’s hair in a surprisingly comforting gesture. “I’m guessing you’ve known since last August.”

  “Last spring, everything seemed to get harder. Simple leather work at the harness shop took twice as long. I felt like I was struggling to get my hands to do what I wanted them to. Then one day I walked up the stairs, and my legs just gave out. I fell flat on my face. That’s when I went to the doctor.” He wiped away his pathetic tears. He hated wallowing in self-pity. “He told me I have amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, Lou Gehrig’s disease.”

  “Who is Lou Gehrig?”

  “The doctor said he was a baseball player. After he got the disease, he was forced into a wheelchair in a matter of months and was dead in two years.”

  “But what about a cure? Your mammi and I will sell everything if you need money to pay for it. All your onkels would do the same. I don’t need Lasik that bad.”

  “There is no cure. When I found out, I spent a whole day praying, begging God to heal me. I promised Him I’d do anything He wanted if He would just take this thorn from my side.”

  “And He said no.” Dawdi said it more as a statement than a question.

  Ben sniffed back the tears. “He said all things are possible to him who believes. My faith is so weak.”

  “Nae,” Dawdi said, shaking his head vigorously. “If it’s not God’s will, it’s not God’s will. If He didn’t see fit to deliver you, it’s not because your faith is lacking. It’s because there is a higher purpose in your trial yet.”

  “If there is a higher purpose, I don’t understand what it is.”

  “Neither do I. But I know even the blessed Lord Jesus asked God to remove the bitter cup, and God said no. That ‘no’ meant the salvation of all mankind.”

  “I definitely don’t have anywhere near that high a purpose.”

  “There is always purpose in suffering,” Dawdi said, “some of which we won’t understand until we get to heaven. The uncertainty can feel confusing and dismal. Our only hope for peace is through Jesus.”

  “I know,” said Ben. “But sometimes I can’t find any comfort in knowing it.”

  Dawdi nodded. “That’s okay. So long as you know it’s there for you, you can reach out and take Jesus’s comfort when you’re ready.”

  “I do. Sometimes I’m strong. But some days the thought of being an invalid frightens me.”

  “Are you afraid of a wheelchair?”

  “If only that were the worst thing. Soon I won’t be able to feed myself, then swallow, then breathe.”

  Dawdi looked more afflicted than Ben had ever seen him. “Oh. My boy. My heart is shattered.” He gave Ben a stiff hug. “Did Emma reject you when she found out?”

  “I couldn’t tell her. She would have insisted on caring for me, and I couldn’t bear the thought of it.” Ben blinked back the tears. The hardest, most gut-wrenching thing he’d ever done was telling Emma that he wanted to break off the engagement. He’d found the thought of facing her so unbearable, he’d considered going to Florida without telling her and letting Lizzie break the news. The expression on Emma’s face that day was seared into his memory. Even though he was still upright, his heart had stopped beating the moment he’d left Emma standing there trembling with emotion, trying to make sense of what he had told her.

  Ben shook his head to clear it of the memory. “I wanted to be the one to take care of Emma, not make her feel obligated to take care of me.”

  “So you do love her.”

  “More than my own life.”

  Dawdi widened his eyes in astonishment. “How does your mammi do it? She knew all along.”

  Mammi? How had Mammi known? The realization stunned him. He had truly been blind. “She invited
me to Huckleberry Hill to get me back with Emma, didn’t she?”

  “That was the plan.”

  Ben lowered his head as the tears overcame him. “I wish she hadn’t. Everything is worse now.”

  “Because you realize you don’t want to live without her.”

  “No,” Ben said. “My life, my happiness doesn’t matter. I’ll be dead in a couple years anyway. But Emma . . . She’s got to move on. She’s got to find someone who can love her and care for her. She doesn’t deserve to be stuck caring for an invalid who’ll make her a widow before she’s twenty-five. I won’t do that to her.”

  “Have you asked her how she feels about that?”

  Ben grimaced. “Don’t you see, Dawdi? I’m not strong enough to protect her, and I don’t want her to be shackled to a cripple. How long would it take before she resented my illness? How long before she hated the very sight of me?”

  “That doesn’t sound like the Emma I know,” Dawdi said quietly. “Do you think so little of her? Don’t you believe she would willingly suffer the hardship to be with you?”

  Ben bowed his head. “Certainly at first she would. I doubt she’s ever had a selfish thought in her life. If I told her about my condition, she would insist on staying with me, but even someone as good as Emma isn’t immune to the resentment that’s bound to grow. And even if resentment doesn’t overtake her, think of the pain it would put her through to watch me die. In the end, whether she can see it or not, caring for me would take a heavy toll on her—a price I am not willing to let her pay. I went away to Florida for Emma’s sake. I won’t watch her suffer while she watches me die, and I won’t allow her to sacrifice her life for mine. It’s not right. She must live a full and happy life without the burden of a dying husband.”

  “And yet she suffers now.”

  Ben tried to ignore the pain that tore through him. Emma suffered greatly. “Let her remember me as I am now, young and healthy, not this shell of a man who can’t even stand on his own two feet.”

  “You don’t want Emma to see what you’re going to become.”