Huckleberry Spring

by Jennifer Beckstrand

  Adam made no indication that he noticed she had turned to stone. “Mamm was understandably upset when you spilled rice all over that Englischer at the benefit dinner, and she held her tongue when I told her how you nearly burned down the lake with a marshmallow.”

  Emma longed to point out that even she couldn’t have burned down the lake, but her jaw clenched so tightly she couldn’t open her mouth.

  “I laughed about it, but your getting lost on the day of the fireworks turned out to be the last straw. Mamm demanded I cut you off immediately. I’ve put off breaking it off because I hoped your little accidents would get better. Besides, I wasn’t really keen to see you get hurt two summers in a row. After the blackened apple pie last week, my mamm put her foot down. She’s afraid if we got married you’d burn our house down or lose one of her grandchildren.”

  Emma thought she might faint. The emotions swirling around in her head made her dizzy.

  “And when she sees my nose, she’ll volunteer to break up with you for me. I’m sorry, Emma. I can’t date you anymore.” He shrugged and twisted his mouth into a sheepish grin. “But I hope we can still be friends.”

  Why was she so shocked? Of course she knew what people thought of her. They joked about her clumsiness frequently enough. Why did she feel as if she had been swept away by an avalanche of boulders and gravel?

  They hated her. They all hated her, most especially Ben Helmuth and his parents. Ben’s mamm, like all other Amish mamms, wanted her son to have nothing to do with such a girl.

  Emma wrapped her arms around her waist. She’d lose one of the grandchildren as sure as you’re born.

  Adam fiddled with the brim of his hat. “You probably want to be alone.”

  “Probably.”

  “Can you find your way back to the fire? It’s a pretty good trail, and you can follow the sound of voices.”

  Emma stared at Adam without really seeing him. She couldn’t be sad he’d broken up with her, but his reasons for doing so stung like a swarm of wasps.

  She didn’t want to marry Adam. She even felt a twinge of relief that now she wouldn’t have to feel obligated to tell him yes. Mamm said Adam was her last chance, but even if Adam hadn’t rejected her, hopes for marriage were gone. She could never bring herself to settle for anyone less than Ben.

  Why was Adam still standing there? “You don’t mind, do you?” he said.

  “I’ll find my way back.”

  He bloomed into a full-blown, I’m-off-the-hook smile. “Denki, Emma. I want to invite Martha to ride home with me before anyone else has a chance to ask her.” He patted her awkwardly on the shoulder. “I always thought you were the nicest girl.”

  He marched away without a backward glance. Emma was glad for it. At least he wouldn’t see the tears that coursed down her cheeks.

  She turned and strolled in the opposite direction. How tired she was of crying! If only she knew how to cut Ben from her heart. If only she could be the perfect girl who never burned the bread and never sewed through her own fingers.

  What now? Ben didn’t want her. Adam’s mamm didn’t want her. Mahlon and Lizzie despised each other. The Zimmermans had lost a chicken coop because of her. The entire community thought she was a nuisance. Except for growing pumpkins and vegetables, of what use was she to anybody? If she went away, not even Mamm would miss her. Mamm thought she was a troublesome child.

  She followed the lightly worn buggy path until it ended at the center of the meadow. Dried grass and moss sprouted amongst the old boards and logs piled there. Maybe someone had planned on building something here years ago and abandoned it later. Emma walked across one of the boards on the ground as if she were poised on a tightrope. Sometimes she could keep her balance.

  She didn’t even have time to be surprised as she heard a sickening crack and the ground seemed to fall out from under her. She screamed as she plunged into the darkness.

  Ben stood sentinel for nearly ten minutes. Emma and Adam didn’t return. Even though he had come to the gathering to make sure Emma stayed safe, he’d promised himself that he’d avoid her unless there was an emergency. Was this an emergency? He had no idea, because Adam had recklessly walked Emma into the woods and away from Ben’s protection.

  He kept his eyes glued to the path Emma and Adam had taken into the thicket. They’d been gone a long time. If they’d walked far, no one would hear them cry for help.

  He couldn’t stand it anymore. Resolving to take Adam aside and sternly lecture him about safety, he growled and stomped into the woods to find them. Lord willing, he’d locate them before they knew he was spying.

  The forest floor grew thick with grass and wildflowers, but Ben could still make out a trail. He didn’t know what he’d do if Adam had foolishly strayed from it. He was so focused on keeping sight of the trail that he almost ran into Adam coming the other way.

  “Ben,” Adam said. “What are you doing?”

  “Where’s Emma?”

  Adam pointed. “In a clearing just through those trees over there. She wanted to be alone.”

  Ben furrowed his brow. “You should never leave her by herself.”

  Adam didn’t look the least bit contrite as he thumbed his suspenders. “We broke up. She acted like she needed some time to think about it.”

  Ben didn’t know whether to be horrified or elated. “You broke up?”

  Adam put a hand on Ben’s shoulder. “Hey, I appreciate you trying to get us together, but Emma isn’t right for me.”

  Adam didn’t have to tell him that. The mismatch was obvious. But how did Emma feel about it?

  “She’s nice and all, but every time I turn around, she’s got herself into more trouble. Like I told Emma, my mamm isn’t keen on the thought of me marrying someone so accident-prone. She urged me to break it off.”

  Adam might as well have shoved him to the ground and stomped on his chest. “You told Emma that?”

  “She took it well.”

  Adam’s unconcerned attitude only heightened Ben’s sense of urgency to get to Emma. She’d be upset. Ben had always been able to reassure her that nobody thought less of her for her clumsiness.

  Adam looked past him as if he were in a hurry to get away. “She’s over there if you want to see for yourself.”

  Even with his weak legs, Ben practically ran in the direction Adam had pointed. Poor Emma. She didn’t need one more reason to be upset. He halted in his tracks. What was he thinking? They hadn’t spoken for weeks. He wouldn’t be able to comfort her. He’d only make it worse.

  He couldn’t help her.

  But he could at least be sure she made it back to the group safely.

  He lightened his steps as he attempted to stifle any noise he made. He would sneak through the trees, find Emma, and spy on her until she hiked back to the fire. Only if she took a wrong turn would he reveal himself.

  At the edge of the clearing, he found a tree thick enough to hide behind. Cautiously, he peered around it. Emma had her back to him, standing on what looked like a pile of abandoned lumber. She bent over to pick something off the ground, a wildflower maybe. Then she spread her arms wide and balanced on a thin slat of wood. Ben’s heart thumped loudly. When she didn’t trip over herself, she was really quite graceful. He studied the curve of her fingers and the fluid motion of her arms as she walked the length of the board without stumbling once.

  How he longed to brush his lips against those hands, to take her in his arms and kiss her to the clouds. He shook his head to before his thoughts ran away from him.

  Ben heard a loud crack as a shocked cry escaped from Emma’s lips. Before he registered what had happened, the wood gave way below her feet and she disappeared in a cloud of dust and splinters.

  Emma! Gasping in panic, he sprinted for the spot where Emma had stood only moments before. About three-quarters of the way there, his legs gave out and he tripped. Something sharp stabbed into his hands as he tried to catch himself, and his right knee felt as if it were on fire. He tried to
stand, but his numb legs wouldn’t cooperate.

  No, no! Not now. Not when Emma truly needed him.

  Groaning in pain, he pushed himself to his hands and knees and, by sheer force of will, crawled the rest of the distance. He picked his way over the pile of lumber as quickly as his weak body would allow him, his heart pounding so loudly in his ears he could barely hear anything else.

  A large and jagged hole, about four feet in diameter, gaped before him. Dread washed over him as he heard water sloshing below. An abandoned well.

  “Emma!” he roared.

  It was dark down there, but the rippling water reflected some sunlight, and he could just make out Emma’s head bobbing above the water.

  Heavenly Father, please help us.

  To his relief and horror, he heard her splashing and sputtering. “Ben? Ben, help me,” she screamed. Her voice echoed off the rough cement walls of the old well.

  At the panic in her voice, a bolt of terror ripped through his body. Fear clamped an iron hand around his throat. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t stand, and he couldn’t save her. He was going to lose it.

  He took a shaky, difficult breath. “Is it deep? Can you touch the bottom?”

  “No,” she panted. “Nothing.”

  “Stay calm.” One of them should. “Try to keep your head above the water.”

  “I can’t . . . I can’t see anything.”

  Ben squinted into the well. It must have been at least eight feet from the opening to the top of the water. He wouldn’t be able to simply reach in and pull her out. He commanded his legs to move. With everything he had in him, he stood up and scanned the ground for anything he might be able to use to pull her out.

  “Don’t, don’t leave me,” she cried.

  “I’ll find something to pull you up with.”

  None of the old boards on the ground near the well were long enough. If he had strength to run, he could race to the nearest tree and rip off a long branch. But he didn’t even understand how he managed to stand. He repeated his simple prayer over and over again.

  Dear Lord, please help me. Help me.

  “Emma, are you okay?” No answer. “Emma, answer me. Emma,” he called, so frightened that tears leaked from his eyes and sweat beaded on his forehead.

  He heard her take a deep, almost desperate breath. “I can’t stay up. . . . I’m sinking.”

  “Don’t you dare sink. Feel around. Is there a crack in the cement you can grab on to?”

  Through the dimness, he saw her struggle to feel her way around the wall.

  “It’s smooth. There’s nothing.”

  She reached for something above her head, but unable to find purchase, she slipped below the surface again.

  “Don’t give up,” he yelled.

  Her head bobbed above the water again, and Ben took a ragged breath. “Find a handhold. Keep looking.”

  He should have been searching for a rope or a long piece of wood, but he feared if he looked away she would sink into the black water and never come up again.

  Panting heavily, she ran her hand along the wall again. Ben willed her to find something, anything to hold on to.

  “Oh!” she shouted after several breathless seconds of searching. “There’s a little ledge above my head about three inches deep. Enough to hold on to.”

  “Good girl. Now don’t let go. I’m going to find something to pull you out.”

  “Run for help.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” His legs wouldn’t carry him two yards, let alone two miles. Even if he could run like the wind, he couldn’t bear to tear himself away from her.

  “I can hold on.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I won’t leave you.”

  His gaze darted around the pile of wood. Falling to his hands and knees again, he crawled to the biggest pile, moved boards and plywood out of his way to locate anything useful buried underneath. The boards got thicker and heavier as he dug, but he didn’t find a rope or a ladder or even a piece of wire.

  “Ben,” Emma called.

  “I’m here.”

  “There’s a metal pipe sticking out of the cement above my head. It’s too high to reach, but maybe if you tied something to it . . .”

  Ben crawled back to the hole. “I don’t see it.”

  Emma pointed to a curved metal pipe about three feet from the top of the well, protruding half a foot out of the cement, that he’d somehow overlooked.

  “Emma, I’m going to grab on to the pipe and then swing down to get you. Do you think you can reach my hand?”

  “I’ll try.”

  It was the best he could hope for. He prayed that his arms stayed strong and that he’d be able to support his weight and Emma’s hanging from a rusty piece of pipe. He flexed his hand. A deep gash, slippery with blood, traveled up his palm. He swiped his hand across his trousers to remove the blood. He’d fight through the pain for Emma’s sake.

  He slid on his stomach to the edge of the well and reached for the pipe with his good hand. Too far by a foot. He’d have to scoot until half his body hung over the edge. His legs were no help as he pulled himself over the edge to grip the pipe. It was flaky with rust, but it felt securely anchored in the cement. Lord willing, it would support both of them.

  Clamping his fist around the pipe, he grunted as he let his body follow him into the well. He hadn’t counted on momentum. Without his legs to give him support, his body swung wildly and he lost his grip. He cried out as his legs bounced against the hard cement wall and he fell head over heels. Sharp pain exploded inside his head as he plunged into the chilly water. Emma plastered herself against the wall, and he missed her by inches. He felt his feet nudge the bottom of the well before he flailed his arms to return to the surface.

  Coughing and spitting water out of his mouth, he said a prayer of gratitude in his mind. If he’d fallen on Emma, he could have broken her neck.

  “Ben, are you okay?”

  He saw the uncertainty in her eyes. She had seen his weakness, how he hadn’t been able to brace himself with his legs. He averted his eyes even as he felt himself slipping away from her. He couldn’t even kick his legs to keep himself afloat.

  He began to sink. With eyes widening in alarm, Emma hooked her free arm around his elbow, and with a strength that he hadn’t expected, held him above the water. “I need your help, Ben. Can’t you help us? We’ve got to get out of here.”

  Ben took every breath as if it might be his last. How could he bear the shame when Emma finally realized the truth? He had no other choice. If there was any chance for her at all, she had to know that he couldn’t save her. “Emma, I can’t move my legs.”

  Her eyes flashed with panic as doubt tugged at the corners of her mouth. “I don’t understand. What’s wrong?”

  He shoved the words out of his mouth. “I’m worthless, Emma. My legs are no good. You’ve got to save yourself.”

  She frowned in puzzlement before shaking her head. “If you can’t move, I’ll hold you up.”

  “I’m too heavy.”

  “There’s away out. We can help each other.”

  Ben growled as panic threatened to paralyze him completely. Emma had always depended on him. She needed him, and he could do absolutely nothing. “You’ve got to get yourself out, Emma.”

  “I can’t.”

  Anger sharpened his words. “I can’t save you. Stop acting like a helpless child, and get yourself out.”

  The whole world seemed to fall silent as her eyes met his and flashed with pain like he’d never seen before. Her sorrow tore him in half, and even though he hadn’t really meant it, he didn’t repent of what he’d said. He would have said anything to get her out of there.

  “You think I’m a child?”

  “You have to take care of yourself yet.”

  She bowed her head, and her tears plopped into the water like a dripping faucet. “I’m nobody without you.”

  “You have to be. It’s too late for us.”

  She tig
htened her grip around his elbow and pressed her lips into a rigid line. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Climb on my shoulders and see if you can reach the pipe. If you pull yourself up, you can run for help.”

  She wouldn’t make it back in time to save him. With useless legs, he couldn’t keep his head above water. But he could save her, and that was all he cared about.

  Maybe it was better to die this way, quick and painless, rather than linger for months in a body that wouldn’t do his bidding. His family would be sad, but it would spare them the suffering of losing him a little every day, waiting for him to die.

  “What’s wrong with your legs? Did you hit your head?”

  “Get on my shoulders, Emma.”

  She shook her head. “My weight will push you under.”

  “Only for a second.”

  Panting, she studied his face in the dimness. “You’ll drown.”

  “Nae, I won’t. I will be okay until you get back.”

  “If I let go, you won’t be able to pull yourself back up,” Emma said. “I’m the only reason you’re not at the bottom.”

  “That’s not true. I can hold on to the ledge.” He had to convince her. He refused to let her die down here with him. “Neither of us is going to get out of here if you don’t go, and you know it.”

  Doubt traveled across her face. She looked up at the pipe that was their only option. “Don’t ask me to—”

  “Do it, Emma.”

  She blinked back her tears and lifted her chin. “Okay.”

  If he weren’t about to drown, he would almost feel relieved.

  “But you must do something for me.”

  “Anything,” he said.

  “Give me your scarf.”

  Scarf? He’d forgotten that Mammi had made him a lime green scarf for the party because “green is a healing color,” she had said. He had slung it around his neck right before he left the house because it pleased Mammi to see him wearing her scarves, even in mid-August.

  He almost smiled. “I have a scarf,” he said, unwrapping it from around his neck. Praise the Lord he hadn’t lost it in the fall. “Can you use it to pull yourself up?”