Andrew

by Jennifer Beckstrand

  “Sit up, Alfie. You’ll spill all over yourself.”

  Mamm would get suspicious if he tried to drink lying down, and she’d get suspicious if he told her he didn’t want any hot chocolate. It was his favorite drink, except for the fizzy punch Mamm made for Cousin Ira’s wedding. Alfie sat up, pulling the covers with him so they reached his chin. Mamm smiled as if she thought he was so cute and patted the covers down, ripping them from his hands, and leaving him out in the open. “Why, Alfie, you’re still wearing your shirt. You’ll be more comfortable in your pajamas.”

  “I like sleeping in my shirt,” Alfie said, which wasn’t really a lie since he liked sleeping in his shirt a lot more than he liked getting caught. He’d better drink fast before Mamm guessed his secret. He grabbed the mug from Mamm, and a little hot chocolate dribbled on his blanket. Mamm didn’t seem to notice.

  “Denki, Mamm,” Benji said, swallowing the last of the cookie and another gulp of hot chocolate.

  Mamm reached across Alfie and smoothed Benji’s hair out of his eyes. “I love you, Peanut.”

  Mamm hadn’t called Benji peanut since he was seven. Something was definitely up. Mamm was being too nice. Alfie’s gut clenched. When Alfie least expected it, she was going to pounce like Billy Idol on a mouse.

  Alfie took the tiniest sip of hot chocolate and gave Mamm a fake smile that made his lips hurt. “This is wonderful nice, Mamm.”

  “Drink the whole thing. It’s good for you.” She pinched Alfie’s cheek, which she hadn’t done since he was in diapers. “I love you so much, Alfie Benaiah.”

  Now he was getting really worried. She never used his middle name unless she was mad at him. I love you and Alfie Benaiah were never used in the same sentence.

  He stretched his lips tighter across his teeth. “I love you too, Mamm.”

  “Me too,” Benji said, hot chocolate dripping down his chin. He looked a little worried.

  Mamm smiled. “That’s nice.” She smoothed her hand along the bottom of the bookshelf. “Maybe you boys can put your rock collections and other things here. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Your own private place to store things.”

  What Alfie really wanted was his own private room, but Mamm was acting strange so he didn’t mention it.

  “Mammi Martha wants us to put books on that shelf,” Benji said.

  Mamm pursed her lips. “Truer words were never spoken.” She kissed both of them on the forehead, took their empty mugs, and went upstairs.

  For sure and certain, Mamm was up to something, and she might explode at any minute.

  Jiminy critters. The suspense would kill him.

  Chapter Eight

  Before getting out of the buggy, Mary practiced her deep breathing, which seeing as she was seven and a half months pregnant, wasn’t very deep. Bitsy watched her doubtfully. “You’re either in labor or having a panic attack.”

  Mary giggled between breaths. “Neither. I’m practicing biting my tongue.”

  “I never developed that talent,” Bitsy said.

  Yost set the brake and squeezed Bitsy’s hand. “It’s one of my favorite things about you.”

  Mary stopped trying to use up all the air in the buggy. “I’m not really hopeful that die youngie will be nice to me tonight, but the benefit haystack supper is a gute place to practice. I can at least try not to return railing for railing, like it says in the Bible.”

  Bitsy smirked. “Returning railing for railing is definitely one of my talents.” Mary slid out of the buggy, and Bitsy followed her. “You’re limping,” Bitsy said.

  “Ach. My right leg aches clear up to my thigh, my little toe is still sore, and the flip-flops hurt my feet. Am I too young for varicose veins?”

  “Probably,” Bitsy said. “But there are no rules when you’re pregnant. Everyone is different. We should have brought our honey wagon. Yost would have pulled you.”

  “I’m in my fifties, Bitsy. I can’t pull a face.”

  “That’s not true, Yost. You’re stronger than most men ten years younger. All that farm work makes for big muscles.”

  Yost flexed his biceps. “This is all yours, heartzley.”

  Mary looked under the canopy, and dread squeezed at her heart. “I wish I didn’t have to pretend to be so strong.”

  Bitsy rolled her eyes and shook her head. “You’re not pretending. You really are strong.”

  “It would be so much easier to stay home and let them turn up their noses at me from a distance.”

  “Much easier.” Bitsy put her hand on the buggy door as if she was going to open it again. “Let’s go home, but I’ll warn you. I’m not making dinner. We were supposed to eat here. We’ll have to settle for coffee soup. Yost’s recipe.”

  Mary smiled at Bitsy. She’d never force Mary to do anything she didn’t want to do. But as Mary had told Andrew, actions had consequences, and she wouldn’t avoid consequences simply because they were harsh. “I need to know if I will ever be accepted here, Bitsy. I want to see if I can make a home with the people I grew up with, and the only way to do that is to give them a chance to love me or reject me.”

  The way things were going, she’d be back in Josh’s stepmother’s basement by Halloween. How appropriately spooky.

  Bitsy handed the saucepan of cooked rice to Yost. “I suppose you’re right, but playing tag at home with my cats might be a lot less painful.”

  “No doubt.” Mary squared her shoulders and made her best attempt at a smile. Not everyone had rejected her. Hannah and Mary Yutzy were always more than kind. Edna King had invited her over for dinner three times since she’d been back. Bitsy’s nieces, their husbands, and their husbands’ extended families included Mary in everything they did.

  Hadn’t Andrew apologized for all those things he’d said to her? She had forgiven him, but didn’t necessarily believe he’d had a change of heart. Words were easily tossed around, like dandelion parachutes on a summer breeze. She wouldn’t believe a word Andrew said until he actually did something about it.

  Still, he had treated her kindly when most people either ignored or rejected her. Kindness was hard to resist. As were blue eyes and broad shoulders.

  Mary frowned. Josh had chocolate-brown eyes and broad shoulders, and look where that had gotten her. Andrew might have a fascinating, slightly crooked smile and dark eyebrows that brooded over his face like storm clouds, but Mary was well aware of the consequences of giving her heart away to the wrong person—to any person. She wouldn’t do it again. Falling in love left her powerless, and if there was anything Mary craved, it was the power to make her own choices.

  No falling in love for her. She’d learned her lesson.

  A huge canopy had been set up in the Zimmermans’ side yard. The Zimmermans’ house got used a lot because their yard had thick, green grass that made for a nice place to have a benefit supper. This benefit supper was to raise money to help pay Lily Rose Zook’s hospital bills. Englischers, mostly from Shawano and Bonduel and surrounding areas, came to eat, donating however much money they wanted to pay. It was called a haystack supper because you went down the line and stacked different things on your plate—rice then chicken and sauce then lettuce and onions and the like.

  Mary had always loved haystack suppers growing up. She got to choose whatever she wanted to put on her plate, and Mamm was always too busy helping her siblings to notice when she skipped the broccoli. And there had always been brownies with mint frosting.

  Bitsy had steamed a huge pan of rice, and Mary had baked a pineapple-coconut cake, even though no one had asked her to. She thought it might be fun to add it to the desserts and give people something to choose from besides cookies. The Englisch wouldn’t care that an unmarried pregnant girl had made the cake. Maybe it would get eaten.

  Yost took Bitsy’s pan of rice to the serving table. Bitsy smirked at Mary. “Do you dare try to do the rice? I usually wash pots and pans in the back because Englischers get upset when they see an Amish woman with blue hair.”

 
; Mary nodded. “I can serve rice.”

  There was just a hint of concern in Bitsy’s eyes. “Okay. Never let them see you sweat.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Bitsy looked sideways at Yost. “It’s an old TV commercial. Don’t let them get to you, or at least don’t show it if they do. Just smile and pretend you don’t know how offended people are. It’s an old trick I still use.”

  Mary smiled in spite of herself. “I’ll do my best.”

  “I’d wish you good luck,” Bitsy said, “but the Amish don’t believe in luck.”

  Mary raised a teasing eyebrow. “The Englisch do.”

  “Gute luck, then. You’ll need all the help you can get.”

  “Denki for the vote of confidence.”

  Bitsy pinched Mary’s earlobe between her thumb and index finger. “You’ll always get my vote, even though the Amish don’t vote.”

  Mary went straight to the dessert tables, trying valiantly to ignore the stares and whispers cast in her direction. They’d had plenty of time to get used to her appearance, hadn’t they? Apparently not. There wasn’t a lot of excitement in their small Amish community, and Mary was an easy subject of gossip every time she set foot outside the house.

  Women and girls were busy spreading out the food and preparing the tables, but a few of them weren’t too busy to shoot Mary an unfriendly glance or to nudge their neighbor to make sure everybody saw who was invading their haystack supper.

  Mary took a deep breath, reminding herself that this was an experiment. She was trying her neighbors, not the other way around. If they couldn’t find it in their hearts to show love for a misfit, then she didn’t want to be one of them anyway. But it did nothing to take away the sting of loneliness that made her feel as hollow as an empty warehouse.

  Mary marched up to the treats table and smiled at the two women arranging plates of cookies. One was Ada Herschberger, who seemed to have a particular dislike for Mary. Ada pursed her lips so tight, a crowbar wouldn’t have been able to pry them open. Even though Mary was a few inches taller, Ada looked down her nose at Mary, as if studying a fly that had landed on one of her cookies.

  Mary didn’t know the other woman. She was about Ada’s age, midtwenties, with a round face and curly hair that didn’t seem to want to stay in place under her kapp. She burst into a smile when she saw Mary’s cake. “You brought a cake? Ach, du lieva! They are going to love it.”

  Mary couldn’t help but smile, even though this woman would probably run for the hills when she found out that Mary was a vile sinner.

  The new woman took Mary’s cake and set it smack-dab in the middle of the treats table. “This will get eaten first, no doubt about it. The early bird gets the worm, as they say.” Her laughter tripped easily from her mouth, as if she spent most of her life seeing the happiness in everything. She reached across the table and shook Mary’s hand. “My name is Serena. I’m from Appleton. I married Stephen Beiler last fall and moved here. I’ve seen you at gmay, but just from a distance.”

  Ada’s indignation was written in the lines around her narrowed eyes. For sure and certain, she’d yank Serena aside as soon as Mary turned her back and make sure Serena knew not to be so kind next time.

  But Mary would enjoy the goodwill while she could get it. “Stephen’s dog used to follow him to school every day, like Mary’s little lamb in the nursery rhyme. He got in trouble for it more than once.”

  Serena’s eyes danced. “I don’t wonder that he did. Stephen loves that dog.”

  “Well, welcome to Bienenstock. I hope you like it here.”

  “Jah,” Serena said. “It takes time to get used to a new place, but everyone has been so nice. Ada has been teaching me how to make homemade rolls like they serve in her family’s restaurant.”

  Mary did not let her smile falter. The Glicks owned a market and restaurant in town, but Bitsy and her nieces didn’t shop there anymore. Bitsy’s niece Lily had once been Paul Glick’s girlfriend, but she’d broken it off with him, and according to Bitsy, Paul was still a little bitter about it, even though he’d gotten married to someone else not long ago. The last time one of Bitsy’s nieces had tried to buy something at the market, Paul’s bruder had refused to help her. Maybe Ada wasn’t so mad about Mary being pregnant as she was about Mary living with Bitsy Weaver. The Glicks held a grudge tightly with both hands.

  This actually made Mary feel a little better. She’d probably never win over Ada Herschberger, considering she was a Glick, but maybe others would see it in their hearts to forgive her—even though it wasn’t their forgiveness to give.

  “I hear Glick’s rolls are appeditlich,” Mary said. “How nice of Ada to teach you how to make them.”

  Serena widened her eyes. “You haven’t tasted them?”

  Mary glanced at Ada and shook her head. No use bringing up that subject.

  Serena clicked her tongue. “Let’s go to the restaurant next week. I’ll buy you a roll. You’ll think you’ve gone to heaven.”

  Mary didn’t quite know what to say to such a kind invitation. She wasn’t going to pull Serena into an old family feud. “That would be nice. We’ll talk later.”

  An errant curl at Serena’s forehead bobbed up and down when she nodded. “You’ve got to taste those rolls.”

  Mary didn’t dare look at Ada. She didn’t want to see the outrage or the self-righteousness. Mary turned around and pretended to be searching for someone. The haystack supper started at five, and people were already lining up. Serena was kind, but Mary didn’t expect Serena to seek her out again. It would take Ada less than five minutes to set Serena straight, and Serena would stay far away until the haystack supper was over.

  The ache in her chest wasn’t unexpected, but it still took her breath away. She had made herself unfit for the Amish community, but she certainly didn’t fit in Josh’s world either. Maybe there wasn’t a place for her anywhere.

  Benji and Alfie rushed under the canopy and each snatched one of Mary’s hands. “We hoped you’d be here,” Benji said. “We got plans.”

  Alfie nudged Benji with the palm of his hand. “Benji,” he hissed.

  “Oh, really?” Mary said. “What plans?” Hopefully they didn’t include climbing trees.

  Benji glanced at Alfie. “It’s a secret.”

  Mary couldn’t resist tousling Benji’s unruly hair. “You boys keep a lot of secrets.” She bent as far over as she could to whisper in Alfie’s ear and caught a scent of something ripe and moldy. “How are your arms?”

  Alfie instinctively slid his hands behind his back. “Mamm doesn’t even know.”

  “He’s worn the same shirt for two weeks,” Benji said. He swished his hand in front of his nose. “He stinks.”

  “I do not.”

  Mary did a quick inspection. There were smudges and stains and dirt marks all over Alfie’s shirt. Even if she hadn’t seen the dirt, she would have been able to tell Alfie hadn’t changed his shirt for days. Alfie smelled like wet dog. “Don’t you have another shirt with long sleeves?” For sure and certain, his mamm wasn’t going to allow him to wear that one much longer without washing it. Andrew’s mamm seemed like someone who would be particular about her laundry and her boys’ smells.

  Alfie picked at something on his shirt that looked suspiciously like a dried booger. “Mamm got mad.”

  Benji nodded. “She told him to take it off or we wasn’t going to the haystack supper, but then Mammi Martha came home with a new vegetable chopper. She had to show Mamm how to use it, and Mamm forgot about Alfie’s shirt.”

  “She’s not going to forget for long,” Mary said.

  Alfie scrunched his nose. “I could wear my coat.”

  “In July?” An eight-year-old should never look so sad. Mary looked at Benji. “Do you have a long-sleeved shirt you could let Alfie borrow?”

  Benji widened his eyes. “I never thought of that. Alfie, you can borrow my shirt until Mamm washes yours.”

  “You’re so smart, Mary,”
Alfie said.

  Benji squinted at her. “Do you like Andrew or Jerry better?”

  Andrew or Jerry? Where in the world had Benji come up with that question? “I like them both just fine.”

  Alfie slumped his shoulders. “Jerry has a fire truck.”

  Benji pointed in the direction of the road. “We brought Mamm and our bruderen. Dat stayed home with Mammi and Dawdi and our new vegetable chopper.”

  Mary tried to act mildly interested, but her pulse betrayed her. Why would she get worked up about seeing Andrew? He was just a typical Amish boy who had been nice to her. Was she that starved for friendship?

  Ach, vell, maybe that wasn’t the only reason her heart pranced along her rib cage like a nervous horse. Andrew was more than typical, and she was more than interested—which she shouldn’t be. She’d only get her heart broken again.

  Benji and Alfie raced out of the canopy and returned dragging their two other brothers, Austin and Abraham. Austin had been two years ahead of her in school, so she knew him the best. Abraham was between Andrew and Austin in age, and as quiet as a church mouse.

  “This is Abraham,” Benji said, pulling his bruder forward with both hands.

  Abraham blushed, probably to his toes, but looked Mary in the eye and gave her a strong handshake. “Gute to see you again, Mary.”

  He might have been painfully shy, but at least he knew his manners, and he didn’t seem to care at all that Mary was a sinner and that others were casting resentful glances in her direction. Mary smiled widely. “I’m froh to see you too.”

  Alfie jabbed his thumb in Austin’s direction. “This is Austin.”

  “She knows us, Alfie,” Austin said. “We see her at gmay.” Austin was as outgoing as Abraham was shy. He couldn’t have smiled any wider without stretching his lips beyond the breaking point. “Benji and Alfie can’t talk about anything else but Mary Coblenz. Have you been sneaking them candy in the middle of the night?”

  Mary laughed. “We are best friends. Benji taught me the pretzel trick, and Alfie has been very gute to Bitsy’s cats.”