Andrew

by Jennifer Beckstrand

  Austin’s eyes danced. “Andrew doesn’t talk about much else either. I think at least three of the Petersheim boys are smitten.”

  She might as well ask, or get an ulcer fretting about it. “Where is Andrew?”

  Austin waved his hand behind him. “Helping Mattie Herschberger with her sauce. She’s got seven gallons of it.”

  There was definitely a family resemblance among the brothers. Andrew’s hair was the darkest, but his eyes were the color of Abraham’s. Abraham had a tinge of red in his hair, while Austin could almost be called a redhead—dark auburn with enough chestnut brown that no one could call him a ginger outright. Austin shared Benji and Alfie’s brown eyes, but nobody but the twins had freckles.

  “Alfie, what did I tell you about that shirt?”

  Andrew’s mater, Rebecca, marched right up to her sons, and it was immediately apparent who was in charge. Through her wire-rimmed glasses, she gave Alfie the stink eye. Mary couldn’t blame her. Alfie looked like every self-respecting mother’s nightmare. His hair was always somewhat unkempt and there was a smudge of dirt down the side of his face, but it was his shirt that really stood out. It stunk to high heaven and had too many stains to count. It might be easier for Rebecca to buy Alfie a new shirt. This one didn’t look as if it would ever come clean.

  Alfie took two steps backward. “I forgot, Mamm.”

  “You can remember what I said three years ago, but you can’t remember what I told you half an hour ago? Your shirt smells like something died in it.”

  “But, Mamm, I love this shirt.”

  “And I love my underwear. That doesn’t mean I never have to wash it again.”

  Mary covered her mouth to stifle a giggle. How many people talked about underwear right out in public? Rebecca had definitely been living in a household of boys too long.

  Rebecca was a no-nonsense, wiry woman with a ready smile that somehow managed to make her seem grumpy and cheerful at the same time. She appeared young for her age with not a speck of gray in her hair, but she also looked tired, as was only to be expected from someone who had five sons and her in-laws living with her.

  Rebecca looked at Mary as if she hadn’t noticed her there before. She closed her mouth on whatever chastisement she was going to give Alfie next and bloomed into a smile. “Why, Mary Coblenz, what a nice surprise. I haven’t had a chance to talk to you at church. Did you get your cat back okay?”

  “My cat?”

  “Benji and Alfie found one of your cats. I told them to take it back.”

  “Ach, yes, it was very nice of them,” Mary said.

  Rebecca smoothed her hand over Benji’s hair. “Vell, they are required to do at least one nice thing a month. It’s a real hardship.”

  “It is not, Mamm. We do lots of nice things.”

  Rebecca was teasing, though if you weren’t looking closely, you’d wonder if she didn’t think much of her boys. But the glint in her eye was there, like a little fire glowing in the woodstove.

  “Benji helped me pull my wagon at the auction,” Mary said, “and Alfie saved one of Bitsy’s cats from falling out of a tree.”

  Rebecca propped her hand on her hip and eyed Alfie. “And how did you do that?”

  Oy, anyhow. Sometimes her gute intentions got her in trouble. Alfie looked at Mary as if he was going to pop a blood vessel in his neck. “Benji let me try some of your peanut butter. It’s appeditlich.”

  Rebecca seemed to have to pry her gaze from Alfie. She hesitated. “What? Oh, jah. One-hundred-percent natural. The Englisch love it. We sell hundreds of jars a year, and we can sell as much as we make. Next year, we’re going to expand, and all the boys will be working on peanut butter full time. Benaiah is going to rent out some of our land to another farmer, so there’s not so much to do in the fields.”

  “The business must be going well.”

  “It is,” said Austin. “We sell it as far as Milwaukee.”

  Rebecca again turned her attention to Alfie, but his shirt was so dirty, Rebecca must have forgotten Mary’s little slip about the cat. Rebecca pointed a stern finger at Alfie. “You will go home immediately after supper and change that shirt.”

  Alfie gave Benji a sly look. “Okay, Mamm. I will.”

  “And don’t forget, or I might forget to make breakfast in the morning.”

  The deacon started taking money for the dinner.

  Mary glanced at Bitsy’s rice pan waiting for her on the table. “I need to help serve, but it was gute to see you all again.”

  “Can you serve us first?” Benji said.

  Rebecca shook her head. “You’ll wait in line like all the other polite little boys.”

  Mary walked to the other side of the long row of tables, took a place next to Millie Hoover, and started scooping rice onto people’s plates. Millie glanced at Mary as if Mary had done something very surprising, then she tried to pretend Mary wasn’t standing right beside her. The Englischers, however, smiled at her as if they found her fascinating and not at all offensive. Englischers liked the Amish, and they had no idea how wicked Mary was. They didn’t even care.

  A man with a chin full of stubble held out his plate for some rice. “How do you folks get away with this? Do any of you have food-handler’s permits? What does the health department think?”

  Millie turned beet red and lowered her eyes, staring into her rice as if she was trying to read it. Mary had lived as an Englischer for two years. She wasn’t quite so timid. “I think because we ask for a donation, the health department doesn’t care.”

  The man narrowed his eyes but seemed good-natured about it. “So eating here could be hazardous to my health?”

  Mary scrunched her lips to one side of her face and looked up at the ceiling of the canopy. “Maybe. But I’ve eaten at some pretty suspicious burger joints in Green Bay. This can’t be as dangerous as that.”

  The man chuckled. “I suppose not.”

  Millie raised her gaze to Mary’s face. “You’re . . . you’re so brave. I thought he was going to get mad.”

  Mary nudged Millie’s shoulder with hers. “Nae, Englischers aren’t so bad.”

  One side of Millie’s mouth curled upward. “I’m still glad he didn’t yell at us.”

  “Me too.”

  Millie had been in the grade behind Mary. “You were always so nice to the little kids at school. And so gute at math,” Millie said.

  Not when she had taken the GED. “And you were the best speller. I still don’t know how to spell chrysanthemum.”

  Millie scooped rice onto another plate. “Did you . . . did you hate us?”

  Mary frowned. “Hate who?”

  “I shouldn’t ask. Never mind.” Millie turned her face away and smiled at the next person in line. Considering she hadn’t smiled at anybody up to this point, it was quite a feat.

  Mary put a hand on Millie’s shoulder. “You can ask me whatever you want, Millie. I’m not mad.”

  “They say you hate us,” Millie stuttered. “That’s why you left.”

  Mary nearly dropped her spoon. She wanted to ask who had been saying such things, but it was no use. Gossip spread like the flu. No one knew how anything started or what it would look like once it passed through five or six people. She took a deep breath to clear the heaviness in her chest. “People have heard wrong, Millie. I left because . . .” How could she explain something Millie would never understand? Better to give her the easier answer. “I left because I fell in love with an Englischer.”

  “But you didn’t marry him.”

  “Nae. I have made some mistakes, but I didn’t leave because I hated anybody. I love the Plain people.” She sounded like an Englischer, one on the outside looking in. Ach, vell, it was how she felt. “That’s why I came back.”

  Millie gave her a weak smile. “I’m froh to hear it.”

  A gray-haired Englisch woman with her glasses hanging around her neck patted Mary on the arm when Mary reached out her hand to dish rice onto her plate. “When is your ba
by due, sweetie?”

  “August sixth.”

  “Bless your heart. How wonderful.”

  Mary wasn’t sure whether Millie or the other girls standing next to her serving food might be offended or embarrassed. Mary was neither. Despite all she’d been through and all the promises Josh had broken, she was thrilled to be bringing a new little soul into the world.

  Apparently, not everyone else was so excited about it. Ada Herschberger and Treva Nelson appeared next to her, one on either side, flanking her like policemen charged with transporting a prisoner.

  Treva smiled that angry, benevolent smile she had used in school when she thought someone had stolen her boyfriend or she couldn’t get the pencil sharpener to work. “Mary, I know you don’t care what anybody thinks, but you’re offending the Englischers, flaunting your condition like that.” She snatched the spoon from Mary’s hand as if expecting Mary to smack her with it. “I’ll serve rice. Why don’t you go do dishes with the other embarrassments like Bitsy Weaver.”

  Mary clamped her lips shut, keeping the harsh words in by sheer force of will. She refused to be bullied, but she would never win anyone over if she was obstinate. Then again, maybe she didn’t care to win anyone over after all. Why would she want to be friends with Treva Nelson? Why would she want to live in a community where Treva was considered a gute and pious girl and Mary was the sinner?

  Mary hated, hated to surrender, but what gute could come of demanding that Treva behave like a Christian? No gute, especially since Treva truly believed she was behaving like a Christian—getting rid of the sinners and all that. Mary would have to try another day and another way with Treva. That didn’t mean she’d grovel, but she would try to behave as Jesus had taught.

  She glanced in Millie’s direction. Millie had taken to reading her rice again, not daring to stick her neck out for a pregnant girl who’d been gone for two years. Mary couldn’t blame her. Mary couldn’t blame anyone, and that was what was so frustrating. This is how these girls had been raised—not to be hateful, but to shun unrighteousness. They just didn’t understand the difference.

  Like the brilliant sun breaking through the clouds on a stormy day, Andrew Petersheim suddenly appeared in front of Mary. She hadn’t even seen him come in. He didn’t have a plate or a set of plastic silverware, which made it a lot easier for him to fold his arms across his chest. “The only embarrassment I see here is you, Treva.”

  Mary’s heart leaped into her throat. Was Andrew coming to her defense? In front of all these people? Did she even want him to? Would they hate her all the more and punish Andrew too? Shock and agitation struck her dumb.

  Treva frowned in confusion and slowly lowered the spoon to her side, apparently unable to grasp that Andrew was chastising her. “Is there a problem?”

  Ada’s face grew one shade darker. “You can’t cut in line, Andrew. Go to the back and wait your turn like everyone else.”

  “You don’t make the rules, Ada,” Andrew said, righteous indignation dripping from every syllable.

  Ada glared at him. “Everybody knows that’s a rule.”

  “I’m not here to eat,” Andrew said. While he stared Treva down, Millie served rice and people sidled around Andrew as if he were a pothole in the road. “You need to apologize to Mary, Treva.”

  Treva’s mouth fell open. Her eyes darted back and forth at the people in line. “Apologize? For what?” The words came out in a hiss. For sure and certain she didn’t like all these Englischers listening in on their conversation.

  Mary finally found her voice. “Never mind, Andrew. It doesn’t matter.”

  Andrew stiffened his spine. “It does matter. Jesus said to love everyone. He said to treat everyone with kindness. Treva and Ada, you serve the devil when you are cruel to Mary.”

  Oy, anyhow.

  Treva took her breath in sharply, and tears pooled in her eyes. “How dare you?” She pointed at Mary. “It is this one who serves the devil.”

  “You can believe what you want, Treva.”

  Mary took a step away from the table. “Andrew, please, let’s go.”

  She could see the tension in Andrew’s neck. He was as immovable as a lamppost. Treva slapped the tears from her face and flared her nostrils. It appeared there was no stopping either of them now.

  “I will shout Mary’s wickedness from the housetops,” Treva said. “We must teach her humility because she won’t humble herself. She’s proud when she should be ashamed of herself.”

  “You should treat her as Jesus would treat her.”

  “Jesus would say, go away and sin no more. That’s all I’m saying. Go away and sin no more. But Mary won’t go away. She keeps showing her face.”

  “We are all sinners.”

  Mary had used that same reasoning on Andrew. He hadn’t liked it. Treva didn’t either. She blinked back more tears. “Some sinners are worse than others, and they should show some humility.”

  “You’re a hypocrite, Treva,” Andrew said.

  Treva clapped her hand over her mouth to cover a sob. Even though Treva was a pill, Mary felt sorry for her. She reached out her hand, but Treva batted it away. She and Ada seemed to hang on each other for support as they marched away from the table. Ada had to strain her neck halfway around to give Mary a nasty scowl.

  Millie and half of the other girls at the serving table stared at Mary as if she’d just kicked a puppy. The other half eyed Andrew, a mixture of disbelief and alarm on their faces. Andrew noticed the horrified looks, but he didn’t seem to care. He lifted his chin a little higher and nodded to Mary as if the two of them had planned to humiliate Treva Nelson today.

  Mary knew she should be grateful, but all she could muster was irritation and humiliation—the humiliation Andrew had been trying to save her from. Millie would have to serve rice all by herself. Mary couldn’t stand there one minute longer.

  Without a second glance at Andrew, she stormed out of the canopy and toward the stream that ran to the west of the property. It was a stupid choice to make. Her feet were sore, and there was no place to sit except on the ground, but if she sat on the ground she’d never be able to get up again.

  So she walked as fast as she could, hoping that the exercise would calm her down and help her forget how angry she was.

  She should have known he’d follow her. “Mary, wait. Are you okay?”

  She didn’t turn her head or slow her pace, but he caught up to her without even trying. Until she had the baby, she wouldn’t be able to run away from anybody. Lord willing, no one would attempt to kidnap her. She walked about as swiftly as a duck on dry land. “I was just going back,” she said, taking a deep breath. It had been a short walk, but she had pulled enough of her patience and grit together to go back in there and serve rice. She wasn’t going to let Treva win, and no one would ever see her run away again when things got hard.

  She wasn’t surprised that Andrew was grinning like one of Bitsy’s cats. “Treva finally got what she deserved.”

  She growled and tried to outpace him. “Ach, Andrew. No one deserves that. No one.”

  “But I thought you’d be grateful.”

  She threw up her hands. “If I don’t deserve to be humiliated, then neither does Treva.”

  “But she was trying to embarrass you.”

  “She doesn’t know any better, Andrew. You’ve ruined everything.”

  The grass stopped rustling behind her. She’d halted him in his tracks.

  “I wanted to help. I couldn’t stand by and let her treat you like that.”

  He sounded like Benji when he had thought Alfie was going to die in that tree. Pathetic and lost. She couldn’t leave him like that, not when he thought he’d done the right thing. Sighing in exasperation, she turned back. “Denki for trying to defend me. You’re a true friend.”

  “But you didn’t want me to?”

  She growled again. “I don’t know.”

  “You’re not making any sense. Are you mad at me or not?”

&nbs
p; “Of course I’m mad at you.”

  He looked more confused than angry, but there was some irritation in his expression too. “Why? I told Treva what was what.”

  “She hates me more than ever.”

  “She doesn’t hate you.”

  “A lecture is not going to soften her heart,” Mary said. “She thinks she’s right, and she’s more determined than ever to see that she puts me in my place.”

  Andrew opened his mouth to argue and promptly closed it again.

  “I’m sorry, Andrew. I am grateful that you tried to defend me, but you can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.”

  “Honey? What do I know about honey?” He looked charmingly annoyed, like he wasn’t sure who he should be mad at or how mad he should be or if he should even be mad at all.

  Her lips twitched upward. He was so like his little bruder Benji—with the same dark eyes and an almost childlike eagerness to do the right thing. How could she stay mad at that face? “You’ve messed up a lot lately, but you were trying to help me. It was a true act of friendship.”

  “But I shouldn’t have done it?”

  She sighed. “I wish you hadn’t made Treva cry.”

  “I wasn’t mean.”

  “A little blunt. You called her a hypocrite.”

  Andrew’s lips scrunched to one side of his face. “I didn’t hurt her feelings. I made her mad.”

  “It doesn’t matter. People will just see that you and I made her cry.”

  He scrubbed his hand down the side of his face. “Ach.”

  “I shouldn’t be so irritated, considering that you are one of my only friends in Bienenstock.”

  Light like a glowing fire leapt into his eyes. “I really want to be your friend. But I wouldn’t be a very gute friend if I dropped our friendship because you irritated me.”

  “I irritate you?”

  He rolled his eyes. “All the time. You’re very irritating.”

  She giggled. “Well, at least you’re honest. I’ll try to be less irritating.”

  Andrew stepped slowly along the stream bank. Mary followed him. “You’ll have to quit speaking your mind and start building up my confidence. It’s irritating when you make me question the things I grew up believing.”