“Too bad for you.” She tried to get around him, but he kept blocking her.
“You’d better watch your step, Little Gullie. I’m going to get even with you.”
M.K. stared at Jimmy. Then something came over her and she stomped on his foot so hard that he let out a big “OUCH!” and doubled over to grab his foot. M.K. took off as fast as she could, just in case Jimmy had recovered.
Before crossing the small stream that separated the road from the Smuckers’ wheat field, she glanced behind her and didn’t see any sign of Jimmy. She bent forward as she scrambled up the steep embankment and headed toward the woods that lay just past the field, another useful shortcut to get to Windmill Farm. She stopped for a moment behind a tree, resting her hands on her knees to catch her breath. It was supposed to be a sin to hate, M.K. knew, but she had trouble not hating Jimmy Fisher. It was probably also a sin to allow her mind to dwell on such thoughts, but M.K. often wondered why God chose to afflict Stoney Ridge with such a vile boy as Jimmy Fisher.
The bushes crackled behind her. Ears straining, she stared hard at the tangled thicket of blackberry bushes.
A breeze came up, stirring the leaves on the bushes and trees above her, rustling, whispering, crackling . . . it sounded like a creature. A bear creature!
She let out a shaky breath. It was only the wind.
But she sure didn’t want to meet up with any she-bear and her cub. She wasn’t afraid of many things, but so much talk of bears lately gave her the willies. She liked it better when she knew the bears were snoozing away the winter. She ambled on down the trail, relaxing a little. A squirrel scampered ahead of her, disappearing into the trees, tail twitching.
As she neared the edge of the wood, the bushes rustled again. M.K. looked up at the treetops, but this time there wasn’t any wind. Could it be Jimmy, playing tricks on her? She wouldn’t put it past him, especially as she was about to walk past a small graveyard, tucked in the corner of Beacon Hollow, the Zooks’ farm, with gravestones jutting crookedly out of the ground like buckteeth. Is this what Jimmy meant by getting even with her? Out of habit, M.K. hurried past the scary graveyard with just a quick glance. She had to dash through a cornfield to reach Windmill Farm. She tensed as the crackling, rustling noises came again, followed by a low growling sound. Every small sin she’d ever committed in her life passed before her. She broke into a run and made it home in record time.
That night, M.K. slept with three lamps in her bedroom.
10
It was late May. Off-Sundays in spring were some of Julia’s favorite days of the year. The weather was usually perfect, like it was today, and neighbors often gathered in a nearby meadow to enjoy fishing in the stream, a softball or volleyball game, and a picnic. On this sunny afternoon, Julia drove Menno, Sadie, and M.K. over to the field and decided to stay when she spotted Paul’s mare and buggy. She hadn’t had any chance to see him in the last few weeks and hoped he might slip off on a walk with her, like they usually did on lazy afternoons, while the others were involved in a game of softball.
Menno and M.K. hopped out of the buggy to join the game, already in progress, and Julia watched for a moment as she tied the horse to the railing. Ever since her father had taken sick, Julia had a hard time watching these games. Amos Lapp was one of the few men who put himself in the game. He’d ask a little one for some help at bat, then together they’d hit the ball and Amos would swing the child into the crook of his arm, bobbing and weaving around the bases. If he were running the bases alone, he’d always let himself get tagged out. But with his heart ailing, the doctor wouldn’t even let him attend church anymore. No crowds, the doctor said. Too high a risk of infection. Julia wasn’t sure what crushed her father’s spirit more—missing church or missing those softball games. Both, probably.
Out of the corner of her eye, Julia noticed Rome. She didn’t know he would be here. He hadn’t asked for a ride. Why was he here? She saw him walk up to a picnic table where a young woman, Katie Yoder, was scooping homemade ice cream into cones. Katie laughed at something Rome said, and he gave her an answering smile so charged with effortless charm that Julia could almost see Katie fall in love. Infuriating! Exasperating. It was like watching a predator swoop down on its prey. Why were girls so blinded by charm and good looks?
But then she saw Paul. He was on the other side of the softball field. Julia started to make her way in his direction, moving casually and nonchalantly, as Menno took a turn at bat. She stopped to watch, then cheer when he hit the ball past the outfielders. Unfortunately, he got so excited that he started running in the wrong direction, but M.K. was running from third base to home, grabbed Menno midway there, stepped on the home plate so her run would count, and set Menno off in the right direction. Sadie joined Julia and they cheered for Menno, only stopping when he made it safely to first base.
Suddenly, Julia felt so childish. She felt as if Paul would think she was . . . that she was so pathetically eager to see him again that she was making all this noise so he would know she was here!
And that was true.
Julia gripped Sadie’s arm. “Paul’s over there, all alone. Walk with me a little so it looks like we just happened to bump into him.”
As they turned to go, Paul’s mother, Edith Fisher, a large boxy woman, stood ahead of them in their path and fixed her eyes on Julia with a discouraging stare. “Don’t let her intimidate you, Julia,” Sadie whispered.
Edith gave Julia one of her thin, wintery smiles as they approached her. “Hello, Julia, Sadie.”
Julia braced herself. “Hello, Edith. And how are you?”
“I’ve hardly had a chance to see you since Paul canceled the wedding.” There was something triumphant about Edith’s expression.
“Postponed the wedding, Edith,” Julia corrected. “Paul wants to wait a few months. That’s all.”
Paul was now walking alongside Lizzie over by the creek. Edith noticed too. Julia’s heart sank. She could feel her face flush with warmth. She turned to Sadie to leave, but her sister was looking intently at Edith Fisher.
“Paul is young,” Sadie said. “But Paul is a good man.”
“He’s a fine man,” Edith Fisher said. “A fine, fine man.”
Sadie nodded. “And good men have room in their hearts for more than one person, you know. They can love their mother and their wife.” She put a hand on Edith’s arm. “Julia would never let Paul forget you.”
Julia heard Edith Fisher breathing, a slightly raspy sound, her eyes fixed on Sadie. Then Edith drew herself up tall and turned her attention back to Julia. “Folks are saying that Amos Lapp isn’t long for this world. And what will happen to you when he dies? Menno can’t take care of the farm. You’ll have to sell it.”
Sadie’s eyes went wide. “What? What?” She looked at Julia with panic in her eyes. “Dad is . . . dying?”
Julia put an arm around Sadie. What could she say to that? “Dad is trying some new treatment and it’s just going to take a little time to help him get stronger.” She pointed to the field. “Menno’s up to bat again. Will you make sure he runs toward first base?”
Sadie gave her a wobbly smile, threw a dark look at Edith Fisher, and walked back to the softball game.
After Sadie left, Julia turned to Edith. “Only God knows what lies ahead for my father, Edith. But I do know we are not selling Windmill Farm.”
“Well, I hope you don’t think you can talk my Paul into managing Windmill Farm! I count on him to manage the hatchery.”
Julia looked over at Paul, still deep in a conversation with Lizzie, who gazed at him with adoring eyes. Julia couldn’t blame Lizzie for being infatuated with Paul. It wasn’t just his dark blond hair, blue eyes, and easy smile that made him irresistible. It was his entire Paul-ness. She turned back to Edith. “I’m not counting on Paul for anything right now.”
Suddenly, Rome was at her side. “There you are, Julia! Here’s the ice cream cone you wanted.” He handed her a cone, dripping with melted ice c
ream. “Don’t forget that you promised to ride home with me today.” He grabbed her elbow and steered her to the bee wagon before she could object. He practically pushed her into the buggy. He hopped into the driver’s side and flicked the reins to get the horse moving. “You don’t have to thank me.”
Julia looked at him, baffled. This man’s head was full of kinks. “For what?”
“For saving you from Edith Fisher. She’s one of those people with whom there simply is no dealing.” He pointed out the window past her. “And you don’t have to thank me for that, either.”
She looked where he was pointing. It was Paul, watching Rome and Julia, with an odd look on his face. A shocked look.
Julia sighed—relief, happiness, elation!
“Paul Fisher is no match for you.”
Slowly, she turned to glare at Rome. What did that mean? Did he think Paul was too good for her? How rude! Rome was abominable.
And he was oblivious to her indignation. “Julia, when are you going to realize there are other men in this world than Paul Fisher?”
She regarded him primly. “Like you, for example?” She blew out a puff of air. “We discussed this when you first arrived. I am not interested, Roman Troyer.”
He wore a strange, bemused look on his face. “Well, I’m terribly flattered, but I’m not exactly the settling-down sort.” He gave the reins a small shake as the mule had slowed to a crawl.
Julia snorted. “You mean, the settling-for-anyone sort. You want to have your cake and eat it too.”
“I’m a pie man, myself. Cherry pie.” Rome gave a sly grin. “I was just trying to help out.”
“And why would you go out of your way to help me?”
“Well, excuse me for being a compassionate and caring human being.”
Julia rolled her eyes. “As much as I appreciate your misguided help, I have the situation covered.”
“So what exactly is your plan to win Paul back?”
She lifted her chin. “I am going to overcome his reluctance. I am going to be more forthright.”
His eyes opened wide in surprise, then he started to laugh. “You? You think you need to be more forthright?” Laughter overtook him, so much so that tears rolled down his cheeks.
She should have been insulted—she was insulted—but at the same time, an urge to laugh had come over her. Rome was so arrogant! And he was also right. Sometimes, she was too bossy. Some of the fire left her. “I really would like to know why you would go out of your way to help me.”
He took a few deep breaths to get himself back under control. “All right. You win. The truth? Even though I didn’t intend to make your endless engagement to Paul even more endless, I did you a disservice.” He glanced over at her. “My folks raised me to believe that every wrong should be made right.”
“And where exactly were you raised? Nobody seems to know where you’re from, or who your family is or how many brothers and sisters you have.” She looked at him expectantly. “And why bees? Of all things, why bees?”
“I’m touched, Julia—to think that you have so many thoughts about me.”
She stiffened her spine and looked straight ahead. “It’s flattering yourself to think I have any thoughts about you at all.”
His face broke into a smile, and she couldn’t help smiling in return. The moment seemed to last forever, even as Julia heard the crack of a softball leaving the bat. Then she realized that people were shouting and waving their arms. She looked around and up . . . and saw the ball sailing, a high arc through the air.
“Look at that!” Rome said. “Your brother just hit one that’s headed over the fence!” He shouted out to Menno and waved to him. Menno stopped running to see who was calling him, so M.K. ran out on the field and dragged him around the bases.
Rome seemed so genuinely pleased about Menno’s accomplishment that something inside Julia melted a little, right along with the ice cream cone in her hand. She quickly licked it before it dripped on her dress.
She wrinkled her nose. So what if Rome was slippery and elusive, not to mention too charming for his own good? He seemed genuinely sincere about helping her win Paul back. Maybe it was time to rise above her dislike.
Rome glanced at her. “You’ve got ice cream on your nose. Never gonna catch a fella with those kinds of table manners.”
Julia gasped and rubbed her nose with her dress sleeve. She promptly yanked back her imaginary olive branch toward Rome. He was incorrigible!
Still, Julia felt curiously elated. She knew it came from the emotion she had felt when she saw the look on Paul’s face. That, she felt, could only be a wordless affirmation of the fact that nothing had changed. Paul still loved her, she was sure of it. How strange. How wonderful.
Later on that night, though, doubt returned as Julia was sitting at the kitchen table, glancing through the Budget.
Sadie sat down beside her with two cups of herbal tea. “Try this. It’s made of a combination of dried herbs from the garden. It’s supposed to help digestion. Or maybe it’s a cure for a headache.” She shrugged. “One or the other. Maybe both.”
Julia took a sip and tried not to cringe. It tasted like something made from rancid garbage. “Really . . . tasty, Sadie.”
Sadie took a sip and spit it out. “It’s awful. Needs more mint to camouflage the taste.” She pushed the mug aside. “Paul was watching as you left the game with Rome. He was obviously bothered by the idea of you spending time with Rome. That’s encouraging. I really think he’s coming around.”
Julia propped her chin on her hand. “Then why don’t I feel encouraged?”
When Paul first saw Julia drive off from the softball game with Rome, he felt strangely disturbed. But the longer he thought about it, the more it seemed like an opportunity in the making. If Roman Troyer was after Julia, then Julia would let Paul go. He wouldn’t have to be known as a heart breaker. It was a free pass! He could start courting Lizzie. He planned to tell her the good news on the buggy ride home.
But as soon as the words came out of his mouth, the smile slid off Lizzie’s face. “No,” she said. “I can’t do that to Julia. She’s my friend.”
“I already told her that I wanted to postpone things. I thought I’d give her time to get used to that. Next, I’ll tell her that you and I are seeing each other.”
“Paul,” Lizzie said, shaking her head sadly.
“What?”
“Go to Julia and take it all back,” she said.
“Are you saying you don’t want me?”
“It was just a few kisses, Paul. And now someone’s gotten hurt.”
In late March, Lizzie had needed a ride from a singing on a Sunday evening. Paul had agreed to drop her off—he passed right by Rose Hill Farm—and they started talking. And talking. Then something happened between them as he helped lift her out of the buggy. It started slowly. One kiss, another kiss, more kissing. He couldn’t stop thinking about those kisses with Lizzie. They were nothing like the kisses he shared with Julia. Not even close. He dropped by Lizzie’s house every chance he got, hoping there would be a chance for more kisses. So far, no such luck.
“Just go to her,” she said. “I’m not coming between you and Julia. You should be with her. I’m just a friend, Paul. That’s all I’ll ever be.” She jumped out of the buggy before he could stop her.
He listened to her footsteps crunch across the loose gravel. What had happened? How could this be? This was too much: to lose them both.
Monday morning arrived and Uncle Hank arrived with it. He was sitting at the kitchen table when Julia came downstairs with a load of sheets in her arms. “JULIA!” he bellowed. “I told you I would help get those weeds in the orchards. I’ve got a plan all worked out!”
Julia stopped by the kitchen table. “Let’s hear it.” She slipped into a chair beside Sadie and Menno and braced herself for the news.
“I got to talking to Ira Smucker. He said he would loan us his herd of goats. I just need to set up a wire fence. Something
I can move around that could be goat proof.”
Rome appeared at the kitchen door while Uncle Hank was explaining his idea. He took a seat at the table. Fern brought both of the men a cup of coffee and sat down herself.
Uncle Hank was delighted to have an audience. He turned to Rome. “What do you think, Bee Man?”
“I’ve seen a lot of folks using goats to get rid of undergrowth,” Rome said. “Only thing is that they’ll eat the blossoms right off the trees. They’ll eat anything they can get their mouths close to.”
“That’s the beauty of my plan!” Uncle Hank said. “They’re pig goats! Little tiny things!”
“You mean, pygmy goats?” Rome asked.
Uncle Hank banged on the table with his fist. “That’s it! That’s their name. Why, you’ve never seen such cute little critters—”
“Hank Lapp, just when were you supposed to get that goat-proof fence up by?” Fern asked, looking out the window. “Because your goats are heading this way.”
Uncle Hank bolted out of his chair and stood behind Fern. Ira Smucker and his son, Gideon, were heading up Windmill Farm’s driveway with a horse pulling a trailer full of small goats. “Blast! What day is it, anyway?”
“Monday,” Rome said, looking out the window.
“Double blast! I didn’t think Ira meant this particular Monday morning. I thought he just was talking about some Monday morning in general.”
“Some of us live in reality,” Fern said. She looked at Uncle Hank with an arched eyebrow. “And others live in their own reality.”
Uncle Hank huffed, thrust the coffee cup in her hand, and went outside to meet Ira Smucker.
“Hurry with your breakfast, Menno,” Julia said. “Our morning just got rearranged.”
“I’ll help,” Rome said. “You don’t have to, Julia. Menno and Hank and I can handle the job.”
Julia gave him a sharp look. “I thought you had honey to collect today.”
Rome gave a half shrug. “Tomorrow is as good a day for honey as today. I’m here to help.”
The Keeper Page 12
