Huckleberry Christmas

by Jennifer Beckstrand

  Beth narrowed her eyes, sniffed indignantly, and sat on a nearby milking stool. The storm came to rest. She let a grin escape her lips. “You are impossible. And I don’t bite people’s heads off.”

  “Maybe the lady at the fabric store told this particular person that you could cut out dresses twice as fast with a rotary cutter. Maybe he wanted to do something nice for you—no hidden motive or devious plot involving homeless puppies.”

  Beth laughed as if she couldn’t keep her amusement cooped up any longer. When she wasn’t laughing, she seemed to be on the verge of bursting into laughter every moment.

  Tyler pulled the other milking stool next to her and sat down. This way he could look into those intelligent, expressive eyes of hers. “And maybe you didn’t check the package carefully. It might be addressed to Toby. The mat and cutter could have been meant for him.”

  “How silly of me not to think of that.”

  “I can’t wait to see how fast you’ll go now.”

  Beth’s eyes sparkled with a hint of a tease. “So, you don’t think I’m all that fast with a pair of scissors.”

  “What are you talking about? You wield a pair of scissors like my dat handles a milking machine.”

  Beth stretched her legs and turned her toes inward. “If Amos thought I was bad at something, he’d give me a gift to help improve my skills. Our first Christmas, I asked for a new sewing machine. He gave me a frying pan because he said I needed lots of practice in the kitchen. After Toby’s birth, he gave me a diet book because no wife of his was going to be fat.”

  Tyler was stunned. How could Amos treat his own wife that way? His stomach tied itself in a knot. Beth didn’t deserve that.

  Beth forced a laugh. “I have a nice set of pans, anyway.”

  She didn’t fool him. Her flippant remark hid a mountain of pain. But she had loved Amos, hadn’t she? Maybe she had been able to see past his harshness. If she had, she was a better person than Tyler could ever be. The thought of Amos presenting Beth with a saucepan on Christmas morning stoked a fire inside him. No wonder Beth hated gifts.

  He placed his hand over hers. He couldn’t resist the feel of her skin. “I bought you that fabric cutter because an expert needs the right tools.”

  She blushed and lowered her eyes before curving her lips into a mischievous grin. “So, you admit your guilt.”

  He coughed dramatically. “I mean, if I wanted to give you a rotary cutter, it would have been because I wanted to be nice.” He squeezed her hand. “Please don’t judge me by what Amos did or said. I’m not Amos.”

  She slumped her shoulders. “I tend to overreact.”

  “Just a little.”

  “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  Tyler leaned back and widened his eyes. “I’m right?”

  Beth smiled and groaned. “Yes, I admit it. You’re right. I’m wrong. Don’t rub it in.”

  Tyler shook his head. “I don’t want to be right at the expense of your happiness. If you feel better about it, I don’t mind being wrong.”

  She burst into that throaty laugh he loved so much. “Oh dear. I’ve dug a very deep hole, haven’t I? You’re afraid to stick one toe in my pool.”

  “I’m not afraid, just wise.” Tyler withdrew his hand from hers. He should behave properly at least some of the time. “Since I’ve already irritated you today, I have an important matter to discuss.”

  “Will I be further irritated?”

  “I hope not. I want to talk to you about the date I had on Friday night.”

  Beth pursed her lips to keep from smiling. “Oh. Your date. How did you like Fern?”

  “I’m trying to be good-natured about the whole thing—”

  “You have been.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “But a thirty-five-year-old? Is that the best you can do?”

  “Fern Newswenger milks three cows a day. I thought you might have something in common.”

  “She’s more than ten years older than I am. Don’t you think that’s stretching things a bit?”

  Beth always giggled as if she couldn’t contain herself. “Oh, all right. I admit even I knew Fern wasn’t going to work out.”

  “She cut my steak for me at dinner and insisted on driving the buggy.” Tyler chuckled. “It was like taking my aunt on a date.”

  “You have to admit she was better than Eva.”

  Tyler threw his hands in the air. “I give up. No more dates.”

  Beth drew her brows together. “No, no, you can’t quit now. You’ve only had three dates. I’m in the narrowing-down process.”

  Tyler pinned her with a playfully sober gaze. “Let me narrow it down for you. How about a girl between the ages of nineteen and twenty-four whose laugh can’t be heard in three counties.”

  “You didn’t like Lorene?”

  “She was lovely, absolutely lovely, but I prefer a quieter existence than the one I am bound to get with Lorene Zook.”

  Tyler loved making Beth laugh. He only kept up with this dating idea because it gave him an excuse to see Beth.

  “Okay. I will find someone else, but have you ever considered that maybe you are too picky?”

  “Eva Raber put me to sleep. I think we can do better than that.”

  “If you keep falling asleep on dates, no one is going to want to go out with you.”

  “And if you keep sending me mature and seasoned women, I might choose to become a bachelor, like Vernon Schmucker.”

  “I’ll work very hard to see that, Lord willing, you don’t turn into Vernon Schmucker.”

  He never smiled more than when he was with Beth. “Denki. I’m relieved. Now, can we go in the house and try out this new tool of yours? I don’t know who gave it to you, but he must be a very nice young man. I hope you appreciate his present.”

  She gifted him with a dazzling smile. “I do appreciate it, but I might be tempted to rip the petals off a hundred sunflowers if he ever does it again.”

  “It’s fortunate for him that it’s almost wintertime. No more sunflowers until next summer.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Lydia Kiem brought a suitcase on their date. That should have been Tyler’s first clue that something was going to go horribly wrong.

  They sat across from each other at a table at Luigi’s and stared at their menus. Lydia kept pulling her cell phone out of her pocket and checking it for messages. Tyler tried to make pleasant conversation, but it was obvious she was more interested in her phone than anything Tyler might have to say.

  Her appearance had surprised him when he’d picked her up earlier this evening. She wore blue jeans and a Green Bay Packers T-shirt and let her brown hair tumble around her shoulders in soft, wavy curls.

  Lydia met the requirements Tyler had given to Beth. She was twenty years old, didn’t laugh excessively, and seemed to have her wits about her. Tyler made a mental note. He had neglected to put “baptized” on that list. Lydia was definitely not a church member.

  Tyler didn’t mind if Lydia was still in rumschpringe, but did she have to flout her Englisch clothes and Englisch cell phone when out on a date with a devoted Amish boy? Maybe he expected too much. After all, Lydia acted polite and could carry on a relatively normal conversation.

  “What do you want to eat?” Tyler said. “The pasta is very gute.”

  Lydia chewed on her fingernail and glanced at her phone for the tenth time in five minutes. “Do you think I could have a big plate of cheese fries?”

  “Of course,” Tyler said. “Anything you want.”

  It hadn’t even crossed his mind to put healthy eater on the list.

  The waitress ambled to their table to take their order. “What’s in the suitcase?” she asked, pulling a pen out of her apron pocket.

  Tyler was eager to hear Lydia’s answer. Had she felt the need to bring a collection of books with her in case the date got boring?

  “Nothing,” she said.

  Okay, whatever was in that suitcase was none of Tyler’s business.
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  The waitress shrugged, flashed a curious grin at Tyler, and held her notepad at the ready. “What would you like to eat?”

  “I’ll have the lasagna,” Tyler said.

  “Can I have cheese fries and a Diet Dr. Pepper?”

  “Sure,” said the waitress. “We’re a little backed up in the kitchen, just to let you know, but I’ll bring it out as soon I can.”

  A little backed up? Lydia acted as if she wanted to eat immediately and take her suitcase and get out of here. Was he really that dull of a date? She checked her phone again, shoved it into her pocket, and curled the wrapper from her straw around her finger.

  Tyler took a drink of his water. “So, I hear you like to ride horses. Do you have your own horse?”

  Lydia chewed on another fingernail. “No, but we have two horses the family always rides.”

  Lydia had seemed so eager to come on this date. She had greeted Tyler with breathless excitement at the door, introduced him to her parents, and smiled sweetly as if she thought a date with Tyler Yoder might be kind of fun. Tyler had assured Lydia’s dat that he would have her home by ten, and Lydia had practically bounded down the porch steps. She’d asked him to wait before she’d sprinted to the toolshed, retrieved her strange suitcase, and joined him in the buggy. Maybe the ride to Shawano had been enough time with Tyler to decide she wasn’t really interested, because she made absolutely no effort now.

  Not that Tyler was really broken up about it. If Lydia wasn’t interested, she wasn’t interested. And Beth would love to hear all about the mysterious suitcase.

  Tyler heard the telltale beeps that could only mean Lydia had a text message. She whipped the phone out of her pocket and flipped it open. She must have read something she liked, because she did a sharp intake of breath and beamed from ear to ear.

  “What are your horses’ names?” He was grasping at straws now.

  Lydia clapped her phone closed and looked at Tyler with something akin to pity in her expression. “Look, Tyler. You are a super nice guy, and it was wrong of me to use you like this, but I couldn’t see any other way. My boyfriend is here to pick me up.”

  “Your boyfriend?”

  “He got jobs for both of us in Milwaukee.”

  “You’re going to Milwaukee?”

  “Two weeks ago we made a plan to go away together and get married. This whole date thing with you was a perfect way to get out of the house without creating a big scene with my parents. I’m really grateful.”

  Tyler couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Had he fallen asleep again? Was this bizarre conversation part of a dream? “You’re jumping the fence?”

  “Jah.”

  “Right now?”

  “Jah. With Brandon. He’s got a new Jeep.”

  Tyler frowned. “But I told your dat I’ve have you home by ten.”

  “He’ll get over it. I left a note under my pillow. They’ll find it when I don’t come home tonight.”

  Tyler had no idea what to do. He’d never been party to an elopement. Or a fence-jumping. “You’re still my responsibility.”

  Lydia rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry, Tyler. My parents aren’t going to be mad at you. I’ve always been a difficult child.” She leaned closer. “I want to be happy. You understand that, don’t you?”

  “Of course. I’m sorry you don’t feel like you can be happy in our community.”

  She pressed her lips together. “Me too.”

  “Are you sure? Maybe I could take you back to your house, and we could talk to your parents about this. I know they love you. Don’t you think you’ll break their hearts?”

  “I’ve thought about this for years, Tyler. I’m not going back.” She reached across the table and patted his hand. “But you’re very nice to be concerned.”

  A boy who looked like he lifted weights for a living walked through the door and scanned the restaurant. He caught sight of Lydia and jogged to their booth. With a look of hurried anticipation, he gave Tyler a cursory nod. “Hey.”

  Tyler couldn’t do anything but stay cool and nod back. “Hey.”

  “Ready, Lydia?”

  Lydia handed him her suitcase and slid out of her chair. “Thanks for your help, Tyler.” She laced her fingers with her boyfriend’s, and they swept out of the restaurant together.

  “Don’t you want your fries?” Tyler called.

  Seconds after Lydia stepped out the door, the waitress set Tyler’s order on the table. “Good news,” she said. “This came up a lot faster than I had hoped.”

  Tyler stared at his lasagna and Lydia’s heaping plate of cheese fries. He couldn’t help it. The chuckle started deep in his throat and rumbled out of his mouth like a locomotive.

  When he imagined Beth’s reaction, he laughed until he cried.

  Chapter Twelve

  Nine o’clock. Beth sat at her treadle machine and put the finishing touches on Mary’s wedding dress. Dawdi had been kind enough to give her machine a place of honor in the great room right next to the sofa so she could sew while Toby played.

  Mammi and Dawdi had gone to bed, but Toby was still up. He’d taken an unusually long nap this afternoon and wasn’t ready to throw in the towel yet. He threw his ball around the room and kept up a steady stream of words that Beth couldn’t understand. He occasionally yelled, “Ball,” and sometimes “Mommy.” Another few months and that child would be talking her ear off.

  She leaned back in her chair, snipped the last errant threads, and held the dress up in front of her to get a good look. Mary had asked for a royal-blue dress for her wedding. It had turned out very nice. In two weeks, there would be wedding bells for Mary and Beth’s brother, Aaron Junior. Beth had made the dress as a wedding present.

  She looked at Toby. He smiled at her and yawned. Time for bed. For both of them. Beth did not do well the next day when she stayed up too late.

  Someone knocked on the door. Her heart jumped to her throat at the thought that it might be Tyler coming to report on his date. He had come once before later in the evening, and they’d shared a pleasant visit and a warm cup of hot cocoa.

  Beth hung the finished dress over the back of the chair and went to the door. She put her hand to the nape of her neck to make sure there were no stray wisps of hair peeking out from under her prayer covering.

  When she opened the door, her throat constricted, and she found it impossible to breathe. Isaac Hostetler, her late husband’s twin brother, leaned against the doorjamb with a cocky grin on his lips. “Hello, Beth.”

  She wanted to slam the door in his face, but couldn’t find the courage or the strength to do it. She couldn’t find her voice, either.

  He didn’t seem as tall as she remembered him. Tyler stood a good three inches taller, to be sure. But he still had the same confident air about him that Beth found maddening. And intimidating. Isaac and Amos had always been so sure of themselves that Beth had surrendered all her self-confidence to them.

  Isaac handed Beth a gift wrapped in blue paper and tied with a white bow. “I brought you something.”

  Beth took the present reluctantly. All of Isaac’s kindnesses came with conditions.

  “Open it,” he said.

  The involuntary trembling had started the minute she’d laid eyes on Isaac. Frustrated with her shaky fingers, she hastily opened his gift.

  “It’s a calendar of daily Bible verses,” Isaac said with a self-satisfied smile. “I went through a lot of trouble to find the perfect one.”

  Beth winced when she found she couldn’t speak without her voice cracking. “Denki. Denki, Isaac. I like calendars.”

  “I know.” His gaze pierced her skull. “You’ve perked up a bit, Beth. When you left Indiana, you were pale and thin. You’ve got some of your color back. Not all, but you don’t look like a ghost anymore. Maybe someday you’ll be pretty again.”

  She flinched as he reached out and patted her cheek. “I missed you, Beth.”

  Beth folded her arms around her waist. Why did she let him m
ake her feel so small? It had been the same with Amos. He had always made her feel powerless to fight back.

  “What are you doing here?” she squeaked, wincing at how insignificant her voice sounded.

  “I came to see how you’re getting along without me. Not very well by the looks of it.”

  Grinning with self-assurance, Isaac stepped past Beth and into the house. He tossed his hat on the kitchen table and hung his coat over one of the chairs. He thought he had the right to make himself at home.

  He gazed around the room and caught sight of Toby standing by the sofa. “Toby,” he said, spreading his arms wide as if expecting Toby to run into his embrace. “You got so big.”

  Beth tensed. She didn’t want Isaac near her baby.

  Toby screwed his face into a scowl and pointed a scolding finger at Isaac. “No, no,” he said.

  Beth held her breath as Isaac marched to the sofa and scooped Toby into his arms. “Toby, Toby,” he said, hugging him while Toby struggled to break free. To Beth’s relief, Toby didn’t cry. Instead, he pushed against Isaac’s chest while grunting and repeating, “No, no.”

  “Aren’t you happy to see your favorite uncle?”

  “No, no.”

  Isaac finally gave up the hope of getting any affection. With a sheepish and irritated twist of his lips, he placed Toby on the sofa and patted his head. “That kid looks more like Amos all the time.” He winked at Beth. “Or more like me.”

  Beth hurried to the sofa and stood between Isaac and Toby. “He’s growing up right quick.”

  Isaac tapped her nose with his index finger. “Growing up without a father, Beth. You know that’s not right.”

  “We get along fine.”

  “Amos would have wanted Toby to have a father, and he would have wanted me to take his place. Why did you leave us, Beth? We treated you good after Amos died.” Isaac slid his hands around Beth’s waist. “I’ve missed you.”

  Beth turned her face from him and stiffened. She’d fended off many of his unwelcome advances in Indiana. She had learned that if she remained still and didn’t try to resist his touch, he would soon grow frustrated and release her. Even Isaac wouldn’t cross a certain line of propriety.