Ben trembled with emotion as pain stabbed him in the gut. “Someone will have to feed me and bathe me, Dawdi. If Emma married me, she would be the one to do it, to tend to my most personal needs.”
“Emma is strong enough to bear it.”
“But I’m not,” Ben declared, before remembering himself and lowering his voice. Dawdi didn’t need to see his descent into despair. He only let his composure disintegrate when he was by himself. “How can I bear for the woman I love to watch my body deteriorate, to watch me grow as weak and as helpless as a baby? Even just thinking about it terrifies me.”
Dawdi wrapped his firm arms all the way around Ben and held on for dear life. Ben could feel the heaving of Dawdi’s chest as he pressed his cheek against Ben’s and their tears mingled together.
After several minutes of weeping, Dawdi pulled away and patted Ben on the shoulder. “That didn’t make me feel any better,” he said. “How about you?”
“I haven’t felt better for months.”
“Now,” said Dawdi, stroking his beard. “What to do.”
“There’s nothing to do except send me back to Florida. I want to die with my dignity intact.”
“Have you talked to God about this?”
“He won’t heal me.” Although for months he had tried not to be mad at God, bitterness crept into his voice. “It’s wicked to ask God for things that are clearly against His will.”
“Oh, no,” Dawdi said firmly. “The Lord Jesus asked God to take the cup of gall from Him. We must accept what God ordains for each of us, but there is no sin in pleading. His own Son did the same.”
Ben turned his face away. “I plead all the time.”
“But did you get God’s permission to move to Florida and separate yourself from everyone who loves you? Where have you put God in all this?”
“What else could I do? I don’t want Emma or Mamm or Lizzie to waste one day caring for me.”
“And who will care for you in Florida?” Dawdi said.
“The government. I’ve already looked into a home run by Medicare.”
Dawdi shook his head. “You’d rather rely on strangers?”
“They get paid.”
Dawdi grunted, rocked back and forth, and stood up. “I can only sit on the floor for so long before I go stiff as a board.” Hunching over like a ninety-year-old man, he returned to his stool. “When your dat needed a barn built, he didn’t rely on the government. And he couldn’t have done it himself. The whole community helped, and we had that barn up in a day. There are times when we need the help of our neighbors and families, and in return, we lend them aid when they need our help. The good Lord put people in your path so they can help you. Take His gift cheerfully.”
“But I can’t help anyone in return.”
“What does that matter? You bless other people’s lives when you let them help you. How can anybody receive blessings if nobody lets them serve?”
Ben knew what Dawdi would say, but he voiced his argument anyway. “I don’t want to be the one receiving charity. I want to be the one giving it.”
Dawdi’s eyes twinkled. “Because receiving charity requires humility, and being humble does not suit you?”
Yep, that’s what he thought Dawdi would say. “I’ve already told you. I won’t be the weak one.”
“Weakness is humiliating.” Dawdi rested his elbows on his knees. “When you carried Emma home after that buggy accident, what did you get in return?”
“Happiness because I could help her.”
“You didn’t resent having to carry her all that way in the hot sun?”
“This isn’t the same, Dawdi.”
“And were you glad that Emma was humiliated instead of you?”
“I know what you’re trying to do, Dawdi, but this is different. I’m not going to get better. I’m never going to overcome the trial. It will be one degradation after another.” He interrupted himself and raised his hands in surrender. “And you’re going to ask me what better way is there to learn humility.”
Dawdi chuckled, picked up the file, and continued sharpening his hoe. “You catch on mighty quick.”
“By the time I die, I think I will have learned plenty of humility,” Ben said. “But I don’t have to drag Emma into it.”
Dawdi pointed the file at Ben. “So you don’t want Emma to have a say in her own life.”
“I know if she chose me, she would be making the wrong choice.” Ben felt less sure of his argument the more he tried to defend himself. “She doesn’t understand the consequences of deciding to stay with me.”
“Do you?”
Ben lowered his eyes. “I understand enough.”
Dawdi turned his attention back to sharpening the hoe. “If things were reversed and Emma had your disease, would you be relieved if she rejected your help?” he said, almost casually, as if he were talking about the weather.
Of course he wouldn’t. The muscles in Ben’s jaw tightened until he thought he might never be able to open his mouth again. He wanted to marry Emma more than anything. He loved her. Taking care of her would be the greatest joy of his life.
Even if he had to feed and wash and carry her.
Even if . . .
Let Dawdi believe what he wanted to believe about humility and God. Ben didn’t need more humility. His illness lent him his daily share of groveling, crushing humility. He needed solitude and distance. He needed to get away from Emma and Huckleberry Hill, to finish out his life on his terms, not Dawdi’s or Mamm’s or Emma’s.
Finding new strength in his legs, he pulled himself to his feet, located the fertilizer, and tromped to the pumpkin patch without another word to Dawdi. Only after he fertilized the pumpkin did it hit him. He thought he wanted to live and die on his own terms, but what about God’s terms? Did God’s will make any difference to him anymore?
He knelt down and lifted his face to the sky. “Heavenly Father, I’ve never thought much about what You want for me beyond the fact that You won’t heal me. You have my heart. Will you break Emma’s as well?”
Was that what God did—afflict people with diseases and heartache and sit back to watch how they dealt with it? Did He stand ready to smite Ben down at the least sign of unfaithfulness and doubt? Did God want Emma to suffer for something she couldn’t control?
That was not the God Ben believed in. “God is love,” the Apostle John had said.
If God loves me, what does He want me to learn? How does He want me to think? What does He want me to do? How will His purposes be fulfilled if I submit to the humiliation of letting Emma care for me?
More importantly, what does He want for Emma?
How would Ben ever know God’s will for Emma? If he opened his heart to her, would she make the wrong decision? And would he welcome her back with open arms when he should push her away?
Dawdi had been right. He knew nothing, absolutely nothing about humility. Suddenly, Ben felt like a babe when it came to humbly seeking for God’s will. His prayer changed. “Dear Father, I believe. Help Thou my unbelief.”
He stood and ran his hand over Emma’s giant pumpkin. It had to weigh nearly five hundred pounds by now. Like faith, pumpkins took a long time to grow. He would pray and wait and continue to pray. Eventually God would show him the way.
Chapter 15
When she saw him, she fought the impulse to run for the shelter of the trees. Instead, she did her best to ignore him altogether—or rather, pretend to ignore him. It was impossible to actually ignore Ben Helmuth. With his height, good looks, and quiet self-assurance, he commanded attention in every room he walked into, every gathering he attended. She couldn’t shake him. She would just have to endure him.
Why did Ben still come to gatherings? If he found her so repulsive, Emma would have thought he’d steer clear of any place she’d be likely to show up. Didn’t he know she attended every gathering within ten miles? He must know, and yet he continued to come.
Not that he did much socializing. He hung back, apart from the usu
al crowd of young people, and watched—didn’t watch anyone in particular—just watched, as if he were the security guard. Emma found it unnerving.
She and Adam had come together, of course. The empty field would be a gute place for a bonfire. Jethro Gingerich had purchased the property a couple of months ago. It sat to the west of Shawano Lake, and Jethro boasted that he had made a wonderful-gute deal on lakefront land, even though the property didn’t sit within walking distance of the lake. Still, the land had potential. Some sort of a structure had stood right where Jethro tended the fire, but other than that, the forty acres consisted of meadows and thick stands of maple and aspen trees. Emma thought it was the perfect spot for a small home and Amish farm.
Jethro and Dinah Hoover were engaged. There would be a home on the property soon enough.
An area big enough for a campfire and a circle of chairs sat in the clearing. Adam carried two lawn chairs and a grocery bag. He glanced at the fire, already blazing. “I brought two bags of marshmallows,” he said. “Hopefully you don’t end up burning all of them,” he said, chuckling as if Emma’s mishaps were the funniest thing in the world. Why did he laugh at her? Her penchant for accidents was old news.
She helped Adam set up the chairs near the fire, being careful not to pinch her fingers. She handled camp chairs well when she concentrated. To avoid Adam’s teasing, she’d been concentrating very hard for the last two months.
Emma sighed inwardly. She and Adam had been spending a lot of time together, and Emma had done her utmost to make it work. She spent time with Adam’s parents and siblings playing game after incessant game. She thought that if she had to play Life on the Farm one more time, she might just have to poke her own eyes out.
She baked bread and pastries for Adam and his family and always laughed at his tired jokes and undisguised sarcasm. Although she could tell her clumsiness annoyed him, he showed no signs of dumping her like Ben had done. At least he was sticking with her.
She wanted to growl. The boy she wanted wouldn’t be caught dead within ten feet of her. Unfortunately, the boy she didn’t want proved to be as loyal as a hound dog. Loyal but hurtfully sarcastic.
Emma slumped into one of the lawn chairs. There was a girl out there who would surely love Adam for the person he was, but not Emma. She couldn’t keep up the pretense much longer. Every word Adam spoke sounded like fingernails against a chalkboard. And if he teased her one more time about burning down the chicken coop and being too scatterbrained to bake a decent loaf of bread, she might lose her temper and bite his head off.
Even though it wouldn’t be dark for another three hours, Jethro had wanted to start the fire early so they could get some good coals for roasting bratwurst.
Adam laid the grocery bag in his lawn chair. “Come on, Emma, let’s go play volleyball.” He laughed. “But I should have brought a helmet for you to wear.”
Emma didn’t even favor him with a courtesy laugh. She’d heard the helmet joke one too many times.
She and Adam stood together at the net. She didn’t have to move a muscle. Adam hogged every ball that came her way.
Ben stood more than a hundred feet away with his back against a tree and his hands shoved into his pockets. Emma looked away when she thought Ben’s gaze might be traveling in her direction. Under no circumstances did she want to make eye contact with Ben Helmuth. Lizzie sat in a lawn chair next to Dinah and Martha Weaver. Emma couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Lizzie gestured with great animation and the three girls laughed hysterically. Emma’s mouth twisted upward. No one could tell a story like Lizzie.
While Serena Kanagy tried to get a serve over the net, Emma turned her gaze in the other direction. Mahlon could have been Ben’s twin, holding up another tree on the opposite side of the clearing. Mahlon made no bones about staring straight at Lizzie and scowling as if she’d insulted his entire family. Lizzie and Mahlon hadn’t spoken to each other in almost a month, and Mahlon became more surly with every passing day. He often passed his time helping Emma in the vegetable patch at home, turning out to be a big help once Emma had made it clear that if he wanted to spend time with her, he must stop speaking ill of the Helmuth family.
He did a pretty good job of controlling his mouth, except she often heard him mumbling things under his breath whenever he hoed pumpkins.
Emma felt as if she were sinking. It was her fault that Mahlon and Lizzie were out of sorts with each other, and no less her fault that Ben looked so stricken all the time. How could he be happy when he really wanted to go back to Florida where some beautiful Amish girl waited for him? A girl who probably looked stunning in a swimming suit and didn’t have one scar on her entire face.
Ben would never settle for a girl who did something as mundane as grow pumpkins. His Florida girl probably baked perfectly round blueberry muffins and sewed beautiful dresses with her eyes closed.
Emma swallowed the lump in her throat and reminded herself to pretend to ignore Ben—to ignore the memory of his lips pressed against hers while the rain kissed her cheeks as they stood in the pumpkin patch.
Breathe, Emma.
Anna’s pumpkin probably weighed five hundred pounds by now. Or maybe, if he wanted to erase any evidence of her existence, Ben had taken an ax and chopped it into little pieces, just as he’d done with her heart.
She hadn’t seen it coming, but an errant volleyball to the head knocked some sense into her.
Pretend to ignore him, remember?
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ben give a little jerk and push himself slightly away from the tree. Was that little movement because she’d been smacked in the head with a ball?
Adam smirked. “I can’t take you anywhere, Emma.”
His words stung, even though she’d heard enough of his sarcasm that she should have been numb to it. She frowned and looked away on the pretense of being on the lookout for other dangerous balls in the vicinity.
She managed to launch the next volleyball that came her way. Unfortunately, it ricocheted off her arms and caught Adam squarely in the nose. He jerked his head back in shock and covered his nose with his hand.
“Sorry,” Emma said, feeling sorry that she wasn’t all that sorry. His eyes teared up but she didn’t see any blood, praise the Lord. She’d never hear the end of it if she broke Adam’s nose. “Do you need some ice?”
He nodded, and they walked out of the volleyball game. Emma found ice in a red cooler and wrapped it in a paper towel and handed it to Adam. He winced as he gently laid it over the bridge of his nose.
“Does it hurt?” Emma said.
“Not too bad, but I don’t want it to swell. I forgot how dangerous it is to play games with you. Then again, every activity is dangerous for you.”
They stood and watched the volleyball game for a few minutes. Emma didn’t dare say a word for fear Adam would come up with some cutting remark that she wasn’t especially eager to hear.
He pulled the ice away from his nose. “How does it look? Is it swollen?”
“A little,” she said.
He reapplied the ice and fell silent. Emma squirmed in discomfort. She’d really done it this time. He wasn’t even amused enough to tease her.
After a few minutes, Adam laid his towel of ice on top of the cooler and wiped his hands on his trousers. “Can we take a walk?” he said.
“Where do you want to go?”
Adam looked especially glum even though his nose appeared to be near normal size. “Let’s go explore.”
“Uh. Okay.”
“I’ll bet there’s all sorts of fun hiding spots around here, but stay close to me. I don’t want you getting lost again.” His lips twitched. “I knew I should have brought my cowbell.”
Emma was tempted to moo. She held it in rather admirably while she followed Adam down a lightly worn path into the woods beyond the fire.
They followed the trail until it disappeared, and then they marked their path by taking note of unusual trees and brilliantly bright wildflowers
. They couldn’t have gone more than a half mile, but it seemed to Emma that they’d walked forever.
“What are you hoping to find on our little expedition?” Emma asked as she caught her toe on a dry root and nearly fell on her face.
Adam pushed a branch aside and let it go. It whipped back and smacked her in the shoulder. Adam didn’t pause in his progress.
They emerged from the thicket into a clearing that looked as if it had been used before. Emma could see buggy tracks overgrown with weeds and a small pile of weather-worn boards long abandoned, a pretty spot with wildflowers dotting the meadows and lots of blue sky overhead.
Adam stopped walking and turned to face her. “I hope you didn’t mind the hike.” He took her hand and studied her face with an unreadable expression in his eyes.
Was he going to propose? Did he want to hike far enough away that no one would overhear him profess his undying love?
Emma’s heart did not leap with anticipation like it should have at the prospect of a marriage proposal. Her stomach felt empty as if she hadn’t eaten a thing all day, and at the moment, she wanted to take a nice, long nap. What was wrong with her?
She frowned to herself when she realized that she felt completely indifferent to the idea of an engagement with Adam Wengerd.
Adam huffed out a breath of air as if preparing to do a bothersome task. “I wanted to walk far enough from the others so you aren’t embarrassed if you happen to be a loud crier.”
“Loud crier?”
He slipped his hands into his pockets and kicked a pebble at his feet. “Emma, I like you. I really do. You’re pretty and sweet and a really nice girl, but my mamm says I have to break up with you yet.”
Emma was glad that there was no wind. A light breeze could have knocked her backward. “What?”
“I mean . . . my mamm really likes you even though you’ve never made an edible loaf of bread. The chicken coop thing last summer was enough to make my mamm have her doubts. It made us all a little wary of you, but Mamm overlooked it since you’re from a gute family and have always been so kind to us.”
Emma’s mouth felt as dry as sawdust. How much of a menace was she really?
Huckleberry Spring Page 19
