Davy maneuvered his buggy alongside the row of other buggies and sleighs in front of Tyler’s house. “Denki for the ride,” Beth said, leaping from the buggy as soon as it slowed enough for her to land safely on the ground without breaking an ankle. Lord willing, she could find another way home. She stumbled and regained her balance before anyone saw her; then she groaned. She’d left the blankets.
Tyler jogged to her. “Did they push you out?”
Beth grinned. “Nae. I escaped.”
“Who brought you?”
“Davy Miller and Junior. I thought it would be convenient since the Millers are Mammi’s closest neighbors. But I think Davy is scared of me, and Junior is fond of his Angry Birds.”
“Davy’s not scared of you,” Tyler said. “I’ve seen him at gmay. He stares at you as if you were a warm brownie with double fudge sauce.”
“He does not.”
“I promise he does.”
She huffed at such a ridiculous thought. “I’m seven years older than he is.”
Tyler’s eyes danced. “A fellow can dream, can’t he?” He took her elbow and nudged her toward the house. “That’s why you should have let me pick you up. I may stare at you like you’re a thick slab of cherry pie, but at least I’m past the pimple stage.”
A giggle tripped from her lips. “Could I be a huckleberry pie? And maybe not so thick?”
She finally made him smile. “Did you bring blankets? I’ve got extra if you need.”
“Unfortunately, they are in Davy’s buggy with my bag.”
“I’ll get them,” he said, bolting from her before she had a chance to stop him. He soon returned with three thick quilts and her bag. “What’s in here?”
“Mammi made potholders for the carolers. She’s been knitting like crazy. And I almost forgot.” She reached into the bag and pulled out a purple scarf. “This is for you,” she said, standing on her tiptoes and wrapping it around his neck. The movement got her close enough to catch a whiff of his scent. Tonight he smelled of hickory smoke and pine needles. He’d been helping his mamm with the fire.
He stood like stone as she brushed her fingers against his neck and looped the scarf over itself in front.
“How did the cheese turn out?”
“We cut each block in half so Erla could stretch it to four baskets. I evened out one of the blocks with my knife and ate the scraps. It tasted delicious, thanks to you. Erla was thrilled.”
Beth determined that, tonight, the mention of Erla’s name would not sting like a hornet.
They stomped the snow off their shoes and went into Tyler’s house. Beth must have been the last to arrive. The sound of loud and merry voices proved deafening as they walked up the stairs to the kitchen. Probably two-dozen young people milled around Yoders’ upstairs, drinking cocoa and visiting.
Tyler’s mamm acted as if the three wise men had walked through her door. She gave Beth a hardy embrace and handed her a mug of hot cocoa with chunky marshmallows.
Erla, with Menno in tow, marched up to Beth and smothered her with an enthusiastic hug. “Denki for helping Tyler with the cheese.”
“She didn’t help me,” Tyler insisted. “She did it all herself. I handed her utensils and tried to stay out of the way.”
Erla gave Beth an extra squeeze before she let go. “Our plan is working so well.” She looked from Beth to Tyler. “With the baskets. Our plan with the baskets. And Menno is going to show me how to make Swiss next week. Aren’t you, Menno? He’s so gute with cheese,” she gushed.
The bishop, Tyler’s dat, got everyone’s attention by standing on a chair and whistling through his teeth. “We are going to four houses tonight. Don’t jump off the wagon while it’s moving. You’ll get run over. That would ruin your Christmas.”
Everyone laughed with all the anticipation of a wonderful-gute evening.
“Did everybody bring a blanket? It’s going to be mighty cold. Okay, let’s pray and load up.”
They walked outside to where Freeman Zook waited with his four-horse team and wagon loaded with haystacks. Tyler jumped onto the wagon, reached out his hand, and pulled Beth up. “Let’s sit toward the back,” he said. “That way if you fall off, you won’t get run over by the tires.”
Beth smiled to herself. Tyler thought of things that didn’t even cross her mind. “Do you really think I’m going to fall off?”
“You can never be too careful.”
They found an empty hay bale, and Tyler wouldn’t let her sit until he had spread a blanket over it. Bales were relatively comfortable seating, but a bit prickly on the backside. Tyler sat next to her, keeping a proper distance, and Beth unfolded one of her blankets over them. She couldn’t figure out why Tyler wouldn’t try to sit next to Erla, unless he could see that she was a lost cause. It was plain as day that she and Menno wanted to stick together. That was fine with Beth. Tyler was the best friend she had in Bonduel, and she had a feeling her evening would be much better if she spent it with him.
“Tyler, have you got an extra blanket?” someone behind them asked. “It’s a lot colder in the open air than I thought.”
Tyler jumped from the wagon. “I’ll fetch one. Does anyone else want another blanket?”
Three or four people chimed in that they might need another blanket, and Tyler jogged to the house for more. He always seemed so happy to put others’ needs before his own. And Beth had the good fortune of spending the entire evening with him.
It was never a gute thing to count her chickens before they hatched.
Vernon Schmucker, the one who had been so eager to meet her at the bonfire several weeks ago, grunted forcefully as he heaved himself into the wagon and tromped over several bales to reach Beth. He eyed the space next to her, which unfortunately looked roomy enough for Vernon’s wide girth. His face widened into a toothy smile, and he plopped himself next to her. “This is a gute night for cuddling,” he said, pumping his brows up and down. He seemed to do that with some regularity.
“Oh, Vernon, I’m sorry. Tyler is sitting here. He went in to get some extra blankets.”
Vernon had the nerve to help himself to the other half of Beth’s blanket. “He’d better hurry if he doesn’t want to be left behind.”
“What I mean is, that is Tyler’s spot. You’ll have to find somewhere else to sit.”
Vernon chuckled, or rather guffawed, as if she’d said something hilariously funny. “The way I see it, the early bird gets the worm, if you know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t know what you mean. Really, you’ll have to move.”
Vernon settled into the crunchy hay bale and folded his arms. “I love to go caroling. Everyone appreciates my bass voice. I can sing so low, I make windows rattle like a tornado was coming. It makes ‘Joy to the World’ extra nice for the old folks.”
Beth huffed impatiently. How insistent would she need to be? She might have to resort to downright rudeness. “Vernon, go find another seat. Tyler is sitting here.”
“He’ll find somewhere else. There’s plenty of room.”
Tyler came bounding out of the house with an armload of blankets. He slowed considerably as he caught sight of Vernon making himself cozy under Beth’s blanket. A deep line appeared between his brows, but other than that, his expression didn’t alter from the serious one he always wore. He hopped onto the wagon and distributed the blankets while Beth followed his every move with her eager gaze. He seemed intent on keeping his eyes averted as he handed out blankets and asked several of the girls if they were warm enough.
Vernon made no sign of budging. She could wait to see where Tyler sat and go sit next him, but that would seem quite forward, wouldn’t it? And what if Tyler ended up sitting next to Erla or some other young lady he had his eye on?
She could demand Vernon go elsewhere, but could she be forceful enough to convince him to move? Her heart stuck in her throat. It felt as if she were back in Nappanee, giving in to Amos’s wishes because she was too timid to fight for herself. But what w
ould she be fighting for? Tyler might not really care if he sat by her or not. She shouldn’t make a big scene for nothing.
Once everyone got comfortable, Tyler glanced her way and then walked to the front of the wagon, sat on the bale used as the driver’s seat, and started making stiff conversation with the driver, Freeman. Freeman snapped the reins, and the four-horse team seemed to come alive. The wagon lurched forward slowly. The start always proved most difficult for the horses.
Tyler remained on the front hay bale as if he were the navigator for the hayride. She longed to sit by him. She knew she could make that serious expression disappear from his face in an instant. Instead, she was stuck sharing a blanket with Vernon Schmucker, who carried the faint smell of sour milk.
“Do you know how to make yummasetti?” Vernon said. “I love yummasetti. I could come visiting Sunday if you want to make a special meal.”
“I know how to make it, but my late husband told me my recipe tasted like dog food. You best not trust my cooking.”
“Better yet, I could bring you a trout. You just cut up some onions and peppers and stuff them in the fish, then wrap it real tight in foil and set it in a pan of boiling water. Makes it nice and moist.”
“I don’t like fish.”
“Everybody likes fish. I go two or three times a week in the summer and go ice fishing in the winter. Fly-fishing is my favorite. Last time, my waders sprung a leak, and I ain’t been back since. I’ll take you sometime. It’s hard to get the knack of it, but a gute teacher stands right behind you and holds your hands tight in his. You can get real close while fly-fishing.” Up and down went his eyebrows. Beth didn’t know whether to laugh out loud or gag in disgust. She opted to ignore him.
Soon the wagonload of carolers broke into a chorus of “O Come All Ye Faithful,” and Beth was saved from more of Vernon’s fish stories because they needed his low bass voice for the singing.
Beth didn’t have the heart to sing as her eyes strayed to where Tyler sat, back ramrod straight, staring at the road ahead like a sentry watching for danger. He could have been carved out of ice.
A profound feeling of loneliness spread to her bones like fog rising from the forest floor. She was honest enough to admit that she didn’t simply feel lonely. She was lonely for Tyler Yoder. She pushed the feeling away. She couldn’t let herself be overwhelmed with loneliness. She had years to live on her own, years to raise her son and run her own life. Feelings of loneliness only led to a longing for something she didn’t really want.
The wagon stopped at the first house, and Beth jumped off the hay bale as if it were on fire. Running from annoying men was becoming an unfortunate habit.
The young people walked en masse to the front door, with Erla and Menno and their basket of cheese and goodies leading the way. Beth hung back until she saw that Vernon dogged her every move. She deftly pushed her way to the front of the carolers and stood next to Erla and Menno. Tyler appeared at her side and gifted her with a smile like the sun. She couldn’t help grinning stupidly back at him.
“Did you have a nice ride?” he whispered.
She groaned. “I tried to make him move, but he’s quite persistent.”
He winked at her and sent that familiar thrill skipping up her spine. “You looked like you were having a wonderful-gute time.”
She breathed a sigh of relief that he wasn’t mad at her for letting Vernon take his bale of hay. Why had she worried? Had she forgotten that Tyler didn’t have an angry bone in his body? “I thought of shoving him off your spot, but I didn’t think I’d be strong enough to manage it,” she said.
“I would have come to help you. Vernon listens to men where he won’t pay any heed to what women say. But you’ve given me strict instructions not to rescue you. I knew you could manage him without me.”
“I did a horrible job of it.”
“Don’t be offended, but I’m not leaving your side for the rest of the night.”
Although she knew she should have resisted everything about Tyler Yoder, she couldn’t have been happier at that news. “That’s quite a risk. You know how easily offended I am.”
He put his lips close to her ear. “I wouldn’t want you any other way.”
It took her a few seconds before she could breathe again. Still, she sounded as if she’d run a race when she spoke. “It will be awfully hard to court Erla with another girl hanging on you like a burr all night.”
“Do you still in your wildest imagination believe that I want to court Erla?” His whispering made her giddy.
“Maybe not,” she stammered.
Menno knocked on the door, and the carolers burst into a rousing rendition of “Jingle Bells.” Vernon pulled two sets of jingle bells from his pocket and shook them wildly. All heads turned to look at him, and everyone laughed in surprise. Instruments of any kind didn’t usually make their way into an Amish gathering, but Vernon didn’t seem to be one to go along with convention all that often.
Elderly Edna Mast answered the door, accepted her basket of goodies, and handed out candy canes. They wished her a merry Christmas and went back to the wagon.
True to his word, Tyler stuck to Beth like glue. Just in case Vernon decided that one particular bale was his territory, they retrieved Beth’s blankets and sat on the other side of the wagon but still behind the tires, at Tyler’s insistence.
Unfortunately, Vernon found them. He climbed onto the wagon and stared at Beth and Tyler as if trying to reason out a difficult arithmetic problem, probably involving fractions. Without a word, he stepped over Tyler’s feet and plunked next to Beth on the four inches of hay to her right. Surprised amusement popped onto Tyler’s face.
Beth slid closer to Tyler to give Vernon more room and bit her lip to keep from laughing. She was squished between Vernon’s ample frame and Tyler’s lean one.
Vernon balanced precariously on one side of his hinnerdale while propping his foot on the hay bale next to them to keep from falling over. “Tyler,” he said. “Do you like to fish? Beth and I are going fly-fishing as soon as the weather warms up.”
Tyler wrapped his arm around Beth and gently pushed her to stand. She stood, and he scooted along the hay bale behind her while nudging her to his right, effectively trading places with her. He squeezed himself as close to Vernon as he could, took Beth’s arm, and directed her to sit. Grateful beyond words, all she could do was smile at him with her whole heart.
He winked at her as the wagon lurched forward and the carolers began to sing. Had he any idea of the butterflies he unleashed in her stomach when he behaved like that?
“What flies do you like to use?” Tyler asked, as if he hadn’t just scrambled Vernon’s plans like eggs.
“If it’s late summer, I always fish with a Joe’s Hopper. I tie my own.” Vernon leaned forward, pushing harder against Tyler so he could talk to Beth. Tyler, as solid as an oak, held his ground. “Beth, if you come to my house tomorrow, I can show you how to tie any fly you want.”
“Where do you like to fish?” Tyler asked.
“Oh, anywhere I can get to in a day. The best spot is the Kickapoo River, but I have to take a bus to go all the way out there. My cousin lives along the West Fork and lets me bunk with him for a week in the summer. I caught a brown trout there once. Three feet long.”
“I don’t get out much anymore with the dairy growing and the cows needing to be milked.”
For the next fifteen minutes, Tyler listened attentively while Vernon told one fish story after another. Beth learned that the best way to catch a big trout was with a Yellow Zonker or a Muddler Minnow, whatever those were, and that Shawano Lake had good pike fishing. She marveled at Tyler’s unfailingly kindness, even when listening to Vernon Schmucker drone on about fishing.
Vernon would have talked for another three hours if they hadn’t pulled up to the Simons’ house just off the main road.
The Simons were an old Englisch couple who lived in the heart of Bonduel. Len Simon, who used to be a doctor, was confined
to a wheelchair and had lost most of his eyesight. The Simons had always been extremely kind to the Amish folk in Bonduel, giving them cheap medical care, delivering babies, and driving them to town in emergencies.
In an effort to avoid Vernon—there was a limit to even Tyler’s patience—Tyler and Beth blended into the center of the crowd of carolers on the porch. Tyler’s face glowed with warmth as he reached down, tugged Beth’s glove off, and took her hand.
She stared at him with wide eyes. “What are you doing?” she whispered, not at all eager for him to pull away.
“There are so many people pressing in on us that no one will even notice.” His eyes flashed mischievously. “And my fingers have been itching to touch yours ever since you climbed out of Davy Miller’s buggy.”
She laughed lightly. “You are an incorrigible tease.”
“You’re right,” he said. “The itching started about three months ago.”
His smile warmed the air a good ten degrees as the carolers started singing “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing.” Tyler sang like Dawdi would have sung—at the top of his lungs. The only difference was that it was impossible for Tyler to sing one note on pitch. He didn’t seem to care that his notes were sour. He sang as if his voice could soar to the sky and serenade the angels.
His eyes twinkled when he saw her laughing at him. “I know how much you like my voice,” he said. “You let me hold your hand. I can’t keep from singing.”
She giggled, and he sang louder just to make her laugh. “Please, Tyler, sing softer or the Simons will ask us to stay away next Christmas.”
Grinning, he lowered his voice so he wouldn’t be heard over the other singers. Beth sighed. It was better that way.
Mrs. Simon threw the door wide open and clapped her hands. “Let me get Len. He’ll want to hear you.” She disappeared down the hall and reappeared pushing her husband in his wheelchair. Beth marveled at how he always seemed to be smiling, even though he couldn’t walk or see.
“Come on in,” Mrs. Simon said as she wheeled her husband into the living room. “I’ll make some hot chocolate.”
Huckleberry Christmas Page 16
