Andrew

by Jennifer Beckstrand

  “Ach,” she shouted, nearly jerking her foot from his grasp. “Don’t do it until you warn me.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Of course.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Of course.”

  He gently wrapped his fingers around her toe. She winced and braced her hands on the crate. “This is going to hurt something wonderful,” he said. “You might want to scream, but if you could hold it in, that would be better. I don’t want to alarm anyone.”

  She made another, more comical face. “I won’t promise anything. I’ll probably scream, just to warn you. We can tell people it was a passing chicken.”

  “A passing chicken?”

  “Those passing chickens are real squawkers.”

  “I’m going to do it now,” he said, tightening his grip on her toe.

  She nodded and drew in a deep breath. Ach, this was going to hurt. He squeezed her toe hard so it couldn’t slip out of his fingers and yanked it in the direction it was supposed to point. Andrew both heard and felt the toe pop back into place.

  Mary gasped and pain traveled across her face like a bull charging across the plains. She took a full minute to speak. “Is it done?” she asked, her voice trembling like a match in the wind.

  “It’s done, and I didn’t do half bad.”

  “I like your confidence. It makes a patient feel secure.” Once again, Mary slumped over and held her head in her hands as if her neck didn’t have the strength to hold it up.

  “Do you want that drink now?”

  “That would be gute.”

  Andrew ducked into the furniture tent and asked Mahlon Mast for a bottle of water. Mahlon handed him one without even asking why.

  Andrew hurried out to Mary, who was leaning back on her hands and looking at her toe. “It’s a mess.”

  “How does it feel?”

  “Awful. But I feel better knowing it’s fixed. At least you got it pointing in the right direction.” Andrew handed her the bottle of water, and she took a long, thirsty swig. “I don’t even want to think about having to tear out that toenail. Maybe I’ll leave that for another day. Would you pour water on my toe, try to wash off some of the blood?”

  Andrew knelt down and let the water trickle over Mary’s foot. She winced, and he pulled back. She shook her head. “You have to do it, even though it stings something wonderful.”

  He kept pouring until half the bottle was gone. It didn’t seem to make much difference with the blood. It was already too caked on to wash off with a little water. Andrew put the lid back on the bottle and handed it to Mary. “When the boys get back, we can wash it better with a piece of gauze and some soap. Or we might have to soak it.”

  She got another funny look on her face. She must have hundreds of funny looks for several different occasions. “I don’t think die kinner will be back for quite some time.”

  “I told them to hurry.”

  “Jah, you did.” She winced again and placed a hand on her abdomen.

  “Did the water make it worse?”

  Mary shook her head. “It’s the buplie. She’s kicking me. In all the fuss, I think I made her mad.”

  Andrew didn’t know what to say—didn’t want to have to say anything. He stood up and turned his face from Mary, as if he were watching intently for his bruderen to return with that . . . what was it they were bringing? The first aid kit. For Mary’s foot. Mary, the unwed pregnant girl.

  “You don’t have to act that way, Andrew. I’m going to have a baby. You know it, and I know it. What’s the use in ignoring it?”

  Andrew refused to look at her. “I suppose you can’t ignore it, but you shouldn’t be proud of it either.”

  “Andrew,” Mary said, the exasperation evident in her voice, “look at me.”

  “I should go see where the boys have gone.”

  Mary stood up and gathered the fabric of Andrew’s sleeve in her fist. She shouldn’t be standing up. She was going to hurt her toe. “Sit down and talk to me, and for goodness’ sake, look me in the eye like I’m a normal person instead of a vile sinner.”

  He snapped his head around to look at her. Maybe she was more willing to own up to her sins than he had expected she’d be. “So you admit you’re a sinner.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Then why don’t you act like one?”

  Mary’s eyes grew as round as dinner plates, and she gaped at Andrew with pure disbelief on her face. He frowned back. Was this all a joke to her? A giggle tripped from her lips. “Did you hear what you said?”

  “Sin is nothing to laugh about.”

  She didn’t seem to care. The giggle turned into laughter, rich, unbridled laughter that she couldn’t seem to stop. She stepped back to keep her balance, inadvertently putting weight on her injured foot. She winced, sucked in a breath, and plopped down hard on the crate.

  Andrew anxiously slid next to her. “Are you okay?”

  Breathing heavily, she propped her ankle on her knee and made a face that landed somewhere between agony and amusement. “Ach, du lieva. I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “You need to be more careful of your toe.”

  She took a few seconds to catch her breath, then carefully examined her foot. “It’s your fault, you know.”

  “My fault?”

  “You shouldn’t have made me laugh. I forgot about my toe for a minute, and it led to disaster.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “It’s not my fault if you take your sins lightly.”

  Mary sighed, as if she was barely keeping her patience with him. “You said I should act like a sinner. It struck my funny bone. How would you suggest I act like a sinner?”

  Andrew puzzled over that for a second. “I suppose that came out the wrong way. I only meant that you should act sorry for your sins.”

  She puckered her lips and eyed him as if he were a magazine salesman. Another one of her faces. “Ach, vell, I am sorry, for sure and certain, but I’ve never been a good actor.”

  How could he make her understand? “But you’re so cheerful all the time, as if you’re happy that you sinned.”

  She huffed out a breath. “It’s useless to try to make any of you understand, but I see repentance as a gift, not a burden. Jesus has washed away my sins. It makes me happy.”

  She was right. He didn’t understand. Of course Jesus washed away her sins, but sin never was happiness.

  But what did it matter? He never had to talk to her again after today. Let her go on wallowing in her sin, and he would go on living his life as if he’d never met her. She was just another girl in the gmayna like the dozens of other girls who held no interest for him. Her eyes were bluer and her hair more golden than any of the other girls, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t ignore her. Mary Coblenz was trouble, and Andrew steered clear of trouble.

  He stood and looked around the corner of the tent. “Where are those boys?”

  Mary lightly brushed some dirt from her injured foot and tried to wiggle her toes. She winced and gritted her teeth.

  “Ach, Mary. We need that first aid kit.”

  “A few pain pills might be nice.” She glanced in the direction the twins had gone. Had they taken a buggy to Walmart? “My schwester Suvilla broke her finger once, and the doctor taped it to the next one over. I think if Benji and Alfie ever come back, we should tape my pinky toe to the next one.”

  “That’s a gute idea.”

  Andrew didn’t want to talk about sin or repentance or buplies anymore. Those subjects were better left for gmay and the ministers. Instead, while they waited, he told Mary about the time Abraham slammed his finger in the door and about the summer when Austin was attacked by a swarm of yellow jackets. She made more than one funny face and smiled a dozen times.

  He was glad he could help keep her mind off the pain.

  A girl with that pretty of a smile was going to be wonderful hard to ignore.

  * * *

  “What are they doing now? Pancake.”

  Lying flat on his stomach on
one of the lower branches of the maple tree, Alfie clamped the thick antenna of the walkie-talkie in his teeth to free his hands for one more look in the binoculars. Andrew helped Mary from the crate. They were on the move.

  Alfie let the binoculars dangle from the strap around his neck and grabbed the walkie-talkie. “I think they’ve given up waiting for us. Time to move in. Over.”

  No reply. Benji got easily distracted.

  “Benji? Are you there? Over.”

  Crackle, crackle. “This first aid kit is heavy. Pancake.” It sounded like he was in a cave.

  “Hurry. They’re done talking. Over.”

  The walkie-talkie slipped out of Alfie’s hand and fell to the ground, landing in a patch of weeds. He should get a strap for that too. He didn’t have money to buy another one. He lifted the binoculars to his eyes. Mary and Andrew were gone. Alfie searched the surrounding area but couldn’t see them. Ach. Benji had been too slow. If he had arrived in time with the first aid kit, Andrew would have had a chance to fix Mary’s toe. That would have made her fall in love with him for sure and certain. Lord willing, they had gotten more than enough time to get to know each other. Alfie wouldn’t be surprised if Andrew was taking Mary to the Petersheim Brothers tent right now to introduce her to Mamm and set a wedding date.

  Ach, Andrew, she is the perfect girl for you, Mamm would say. We’ll have fireworks for your wedding. And she’s going to have a baby! Think of the time that will save. I’ll plant a whole patch of celery, and as soon as the wedding is over, we’ll move Alfie and Benji out of the cellar.

  It was obvious that Gotte wanted Alfie and Benji to get their room back. Hadn’t He made Mary stub her toe at just the right moment?

  The plan was working nicely.

  Now it was time to work on Abraham and Austin.

  Gotte helped those who helped themselves.

  Chapter Five

  Alfie sat on the air mattress, his arms folded tightly around his chest, his eyes fixed on the dark shadows directly in front of him. Mamm had scolded him when she had to change the batteries on the lantern for the third time, but Alfie couldn’t care less—or could care less—he never knew which was right, but tonight he could care less or couldn’t—who cared? If Mamm didn’t want him using up all the lantern batteries, she shouldn’t have put him and Benji in the cellar. But she couldn’t care less about her youngest sons. Why should Alfie care any more . . . or less?

  Alfie would have slept with the lantern on all night to keep the spiders away, but he was beginning to wonder if the light attracted the bugs instead of scaring them. There were already four moths fluttering around his lantern, and that was inside the house. He’d watched a spider crawl up the wall two minutes ago, but hadn’t dared get out of bed to smash it. Didn’t Mamm even care that they were going to be eaten by a giant butterfly or caught in a spider’s web? For sure and certain, some spider would suck out all of Alfie’s blood before Mamm came down to wake him in the morning.

  How could Benji sleep at a time like this? Their plan wasn’t working out at all, and Benji slept as if all their older bruderen were already engaged. Benji gave a little snort and rolled over. Alfie wouldn’t stand for it. He poked Benji, being careful not to knock him off the air mattress. They’d ended up with a hole the last time Benji had fallen off.

  Benji rolled over again and scratched his nose, but he didn’t wake up. Alfie poked him harder.

  “Hey,” Benji said, his eyes still closed. “What are you doing?”

  “Wake up, Benji. We need another plan.”

  Benji propped himself on his elbow and rubbed his eyes. “I don’t have any more money.”

  Alfie groaned. “We don’t need more money. We need to make a plan.”

  Benji sat up and reached for the stack of nine shiny cookie sheets on his side of the bed. The stack was sort of Benji’s nightstand. He’d put a plate of cookies there after dinner for a midnight snack. Benji grabbed two cookies—peanut butter—and gave one to Alfie. “I thought we already had a plan.”

  Alfie took a big, mad bite out of his cookie. “It didn’t work. Andrew isn’t even close to being engaged.”

  “For sure and certain, I thought the pretzels and peanut butter would work.”

  “She really liked Andrew’s chair yet.”

  Benji nibbled on his cookie. He liked to make it last, even if he had three more sitting on Mammi Martha’s cookie sheets. “When Mary stubbed her toe, I thought we had them for sure.”

  “But you got there late. She would have fallen in love with him if he’d fixed her toe.”

  Benji frowned until his bottom lip stuck out. “It was heavy, and I had to carry it all the way from the buggy.”

  “Well, it made things worse. Andrew says we are never to talk to Mary again, and if we see her coming, we’re supposed to run away.”

  Benji scratched his head and watched Alfie through bleary eyes. “Where does he want us to run away to?”

  “He’s such a dumkoff sometimes.”

  “He fixed our air mattress,” Benji said.

  “He might be nice, but he is still a dumkoff.” Mamm would have given him the spatula if she had heard Alfie call his bruder bad names. Alfie couldn’t have cared less. He was madder than a hen in the river.

  “What should we do now? We could try to find a wife for Abraham.”

  Alfie finished off his cookie and did some deep thinking while he chewed. “I’m not giving up on Andrew yet. I want him to marry Mary.”

  “She doesn’t talk to us like we’re little kids.”

  Alfie nodded. They wanted to get their room back, but Mary as a sister-in-law would be a nice benefit. “There’s a gathering next week. People fall in love at gatherings all the time.”

  “How will we get Andrew to go? He thinks he’s too old.”

  Alfie sighed clear down to his toes. He didn’t want to have to do this, but they were desperate, and another spider was crawling across the floor straight toward their bed. “We’re going to have to get Mammi Martha.”

  * * *

  Mary sat in Bitsy’s buggy, took a deep breath, and let the air seep from her lips as her shoulders sagged. She could still go home. She certainly didn’t have to subject herself to the humiliation.

  Bitsy held the reins at the ready and stared at Mary. “You don’t have to go, you know.”

  “I know.”

  “Some of them will be very nice, but others will try very hard to make you feel ashamed.”

  “They don’t have to try very hard. I can feel their sharp looks with my eyes closed.”

  Bitsy shrugged her shoulders. “I say, if you can’t find any fun in being the subject of all the gossip, you might as well come home with me and make cookies.”

  “They don’t like being in the presence of a sinner.”

  “Some of them have forgotten that we’re all sinners.”

  Mary cracked a smile. “Andrew said I should act like a sinner.”

  Bitsy scrunched her lips together. Mary could tell she was trying to keep from smiling. “What in heaven’s name does that mean? If every sin were as obvious and visible as yours, there’d be a lot less judgment and a lot more love.”

  “I’m not so sure. Maybe there’d just be a lot more outcasts.”

  Bitsy nodded. “You’re right. Might as well come home and save yourself the trouble.”

  “Nae,” Mary said. “If my time away from the community taught me anything, it’s that I need to be brave. I won’t let someone else decide where I go or how I should feel. Andrew Petersheim and the likes of Treva Nelson aren’t going to keep me from attending a gathering. I’ll go if I please and show them I won’t be shamed or bullied into staying home.”

  “Gute for you,” Bitsy said.

  Mary pretended to have more confidence than she felt. “If that won’t win me any friends, then the way they treat me will give me a very gute reason to leave the community for good this time. Josh would say it was a win-win.”

  “I don’t kno
w. Josh said a lot of stupid things. But at least you have a cake to help you be brave. And if they’re hostile, you can always throw it at them.”

  Mary didn’t feel brave or defiant as she limped across the lawn into the Kings’ backyard. Mostly she just felt sick. Bitsy had taken her to the doctor this morning. He had numbed her toe and ripped out her dangling toenail. She definitely should have stayed home. Her sore toe would have been the perfect excuse. Instead she had put on her best pair of flip-flops, determined to let nothing stop her.

  Frieda King had been one of her best friends in school. Mary had played for many hours in this very backyard as a little girl. A dozen walnut trees lined the edge of the yard, and a little patch of pansies surrounded each tree. The yard was especially beautiful in autumn when the trees were bright yellow and the chrysanthemums were in full bloom. Mary and Frieda had spent hours helping Frieda’s bruderen crack walnut shells with hammers. The nuts went into Edna King’s big metal bowl and the shells fed the fire during the winter. Mary still loved the bitter taste of walnuts in October. She’d always get at least one canker on her tongue from eating too many, but it was a small price to pay for such deliciousness.

  Mary strolled into the backyard as if she hadn’t a care in the world. Several of die youngie played volleyball in the center of the yard. Others gathered around the eats table where an overflowing plate of pretzels sat next to bowls of honey and cheese sauce. She smiled to herself. She preferred pretzels with peanut butter and honey. Benji had shown her his trick.

  No one seemed to notice her as she made a beeline for the eats table, clutching her cake in front of her like a shield. If you insist on going, Bitsy had said, you should at least take something to soften them up. No one can resist my bee-sting cake.

  “Why, Mary Coblenz, how nice to see you.” Edna King stood on the other side of the table with a genuine smile on her face. Mary had always liked Frieda’s mater. She was a tall, sturdy woman with hair that had been dirty gray for as long as Mary had known her. Edna was naturally reserved and quiet, but she had always seemed sure of herself, even though she didn’t ever say very much.