Becoming Bea

by Leslie Gould

  I’d missed Ben over the years and in response had guarded my heart more and more. Then after his brief attempt at courting ended, I’d been hurt. Badly.

  Could I let my guard down again? By the way I felt tonight, I thought I could.

  As I turned over onto my side, ready to sleep, my mind landed on the memory of Ben choosing me for his kickball team. His quick grin. The flash of his dimple. The momentary feeling of belonging that washed over me.

  That was what I longed for again.

  Chapter

  10

  That night was our worst yet with the babies. I’d only been asleep an hour when Nan woke me.

  “Sorry,” she said. “Bob’s still working.”

  I slipped out of bed and into my robe, registering the cacophony of crying babies as I did. Hope didn’t stir. I decided not to wake her. If we needed her too, I’d come back.

  When I reached the bedroom, Nan already sat in the rocking chair with Leah and Asher. I picked up Kurt from his bassinet, putting him to my shoulder and patting his back. “How long have they been awake?” I asked Nan.

  “Asher for a half hour. I fed him, but he won’t stop crying.” She nodded toward Kurt. “He’s probably hungry too.”

  “I’ll go fix a bottle,” I said. “Should I make one for Leah too?”

  “Jah,” Nan said. “I fed her some, but I don’t think she got much.”

  Ten minutes later I was back in Nan’s room, ready to wake Hope to help us, when I heard Bob come up the stairs in his stocking feet.

  When he entered, he took Asher from Nan and walked the baby back and forth across the landing. For the rest of the night, we took turns with the babies. Halfway through, I recruited Hope to give me a break for a couple hours, but by early morning we were both back in the nursery. That was when I noticed, as I changed Asher’s diaper, that he kept pulling his legs up toward his belly.

  “They have colic,” Nan said from the rocking chair. She yawned. Bob was asleep in the guest room.

  At five thirty, Cate came in, ready to relieve one of us.

  “You go back to bed,” I said to Hope as I walked Asher around the room. He stayed settled, until I put him down. Hope accepted my offer without any protest.

  By six all three babies were asleep.

  “Go back to bed,” Cate said to me.

  I slipped Asher back into the bassinet. “What about breakfast for the boys?”

  “They can figure it out,” Cate said. “Maybe Pete will make pancakes.”

  “As long as you don’t do it,” I said.

  “I might help,” she said. “But I promise not to overdo it.”

  When I woke, sunshine filled the room and Hope was gone from her bed. I turned toward the clock on the tabletop. Nine a.m. I bolted out of bed, expecting to hear babies screaming. But all was quiet.

  I showered, dressed, and tiptoed down the landing to the stairs.

  Bob sat at the kitchen table, both hands wrapped around a coffee mug.

  “Guder Mariye,” I said.

  He looked up at me, dazed.

  “How are the babies doing?” I asked as I poured myself a cup of coffee.

  “All right,” he said. “They’ve been asleep for a long stretch now. Nan’s asleep too.”

  I sat down across from him. “Where is everyone else?”

  “Church,” he said. “Hope rode with Cate and Pete.”

  “Oh.” I was sorry to have missed Ben. That made me think of Love. I hurried to the window. The chain was still around the tree, but she was gone. Mervin and Martin must have taken her home.

  “There are leftover pancakes on the stove,” Bob said.

  “Denki.” I wasn’t hungry. My eyes fell to the sink. The breakfast dishes had been done but not the bottles. I filled the stockpot with water to sterilize them and lit the burner.

  “Not that I’ve ever experienced war,” Bob said, “but having three babies feels a little like I expect combat would—in a supportive role, not a fighting one, mind you. But still . . .”

  I understood what he meant. Mamm had told me taking care of a baby was the most important work one would ever do—I just hadn’t expected it to be the hardest.

  “Denki,” Bob said to me. “For all your help. I don’t know what we’d do without it.”

  “You’d have someone else here,” I said, turning to look at him. “But I’m honored to help. Your babies will be special to me my entire life.”

  I couldn’t tell for sure, but I thought Bob’s eyes grew a little misty—until we both heard the wail at the same time.

  “Asher,” we said in unison.

  “Ach,” he said. “I’d better get up there. Poor Nan. She must feel as if she’s been turned inside out by now.”

  The day progressed pretty much the way the night had—with fussy, fussy babies. Bob, Nan, and I had sandwiches for our noon meal, grateful that Cate, Pete, and Hope would eat after church. Although I’d miss having the boys around all the time, it was a relief not to have to figure out supper for everyone. There was soup in the freezer from earlier in the week. I took it out to thaw.

  I was sterilizing bottles in the kitchen again when Hope, Cate, and Pete returned. I thought Pete and Cate had gone on up the stairs, when I whispered to Hope, “Don’t get your hopes up about the singing tonight. Things have stayed chaotic around here.”

  Cate was still in the hall and somehow overheard. She hurried back into the kitchen. “No, you two are definitely going. I’m going to get a nap now. I’ll be able to help with the babies.” She looked exhausted. And bigger even than she had yesterday.

  “Let’s wait and see how things are going when it’s time to leave,” I answered.

  Hope pursed her lips together. I nudged her with my elbow. “Jah,” she said. “We’ll stay if needed.”

  Cate had already returned to the hallway though, and a moment later we heard her trudge up the stairs.

  Hope gave me an exasperated look.

  “What?” I stuffed my hands in my apron pockets.

  “You don’t need to go out of your way to ensure we don’t go to the singing,” she answered.

  “Helping with the babies is our primary responsibility.”

  “Jah,” she answered. “But we should be allowed some time off—a chance to have a little fun.”

  I returned to the bottles without answering, realizing that Hope and I had switched roles. She’d started out the more experienced one—but I’d ended up taking more responsibility. Perhaps because Hope was so distracted by Martin. Or perhaps I was finding a role I finally excelled at.

  When Hope and I went upstairs ten minutes later, Leah and Nan were asleep in the bedroom and Bob held both Asher and Kurt in the nursery, sitting in the rocking chair staring at them. The boys were awake and not crying, both gazing into their Dat’s eyes.

  “We’ll take them outside,” I said. “For fresh air. You try to sleep.”

  “Denki,” Bob said. He yawned as he stood and surrendered the babies to us.

  We put caps on the babies’ heads and swaddled them tightly, but when we stepped outside I realized they’d be more than warm enough. The temperature had to be in the seventies.

  “It’s going to be such a nice evening.” Hope walked beside me on the path, cradling Kurt.

  I headed toward the apple trees. “Jah,” I said, lifting Asher to my shoulder so he could see better. I wondered if Mamm, Molly, and Leon had as nice of weather in Montana. Or perhaps it was snowing there by now.

  We stopped at the edge of the apple trees. “We need to pick the rest of these,” I said. “We could do that in the morning. And make applesauce and apple butter.”

  “Jah,” Hope said. “In our spare time.”

  “Well, let’s see what we can do. It would be a shame for the fruit to go to waste.” We started walking again, around the barn and toward the sycamore grove. Both babies seemed to enjoy being outside. I knew they couldn’t focus on a lot, but the fresh air, sounds, and shapes seemed to distract
them from crying.

  “I hope we can go tonight,” Hope said.

  I exhaled. She had a one-track mind.

  “I told Martin I’d be there,” she added.

  “It seems as if things are pretty serious between the two of you,” I said.

  She blushed, right up to her blond hairline, and her blue eyes grew even brighter.

  “So,” I said, trying to keep my voice light, “are you sure you two weren’t out by the barn last night?”

  Her face grew even redder. “I told you we were just talking.”

  “Oh, come on, Hope, you can tell me. I’m not going to judge you. I know you and Martin are crazy about each other.”

  She giggled and I let it go.

  We skirted around the sycamore grove and then down between the shop and the property line. When we reached the silver maple, we cut back around to the house. The babies were so content that we lapped around two more times and then sat on the porch as the babies dozed. We’d been outside for a good hour before Asher started to fuss.

  “He’s probably hungry,” I said. I rubbed my face against his. “You must be starving,” I cooed. It had been at least two hours since he’d eaten, practically a record.

  He let out a wail.

  As we neared the back door, Hope turned toward the driveway. Even over Asher’s cries she’d heard the buggy headed toward us.

  Martin, Mervin, and Hannah were inside. I craned my neck, hoping Ben was with them, but he wasn’t. Why hadn’t I asked him what his plan was for the evening? Better yet, why hadn’t he told me? Was he coming to get me—or was I supposed to meet him there?

  I insisted to Cate and Nan, who both seemed rested for the first time all week, that I didn’t need to go to the singing. Perhaps Ben had changed his mind about me. Perhaps he’d done exactly what he’d done before—led me along only to dump me. Maybe it was all part of a plot to get back at me. To hurt me. Again.

  Hope and Cate had it all wrong. Or maybe Mervin and Martin had made it all up as a big joke.

  The truth was, I didn’t want to go to the singing. I didn’t want to set myself up to be hurt and humiliated again, but I could hardly explain all that to Nan and Cate.

  Hope assumed I was riding with them. So did Martin, Mervin, and Hannah. Rather than make a fuss, I decided to pretend that was what Ben and I had planned all along.

  An hour later we headed to the singing. I did my best to be pleasant, even though I felt like the fifth wheel on a four-wheeled buggy. Ben or no Ben, I didn’t want to be the critical young woman that I’d been. I really did, sincerely, want to change.

  But as we turned off the highway, my anxiety increased. Ahead, Youngie gathered in front of a grove of pine trees. Off to the right was the Funks’ white farmhouse and large barn, with a row of buggies parked to the side closest to the house. On the other side of the barn was the corn maze.

  As we passed the grove, Martin spotted Phillip by the barn and called out a hello. I was surprised to see Don with him—he was much too old to come to a singing. Jessie Berg came around the corner of the barn with a group of girls and nearly collided with Phillip. She spoke to him kindly for a moment, not seeming embarrassed at all. I couldn’t help but admire her poise, something I’d never possessed.

  One of the girls with her grabbed her hand and pulled her along. She waved and smiled at Phillip as she allowed herself to be dragged away. Perhaps she didn’t truly love him before. How else could she be so civil to him now?

  Mervin parked the buggy at the end of the row. I sighed as I climbed down. “Ach?” Martin extended his hand to me a little too late.

  “Ach, nothing,” I answered.

  “Ach, something,” he countered.

  “I just don’t understand . . .” What? What didn’t I understand? “Relationships,” I managed to say.

  He chuckled. “Welcome to the club,” he answered, draping his arm over Hope’s shoulder. “Aren’t they wonderful?”

  I swallowed, trying to get rid of the lump growing in my throat. Ben had asked me to the singing—and now he was nowhere in sight. I couldn’t believe I’d fallen for his antics a second time.

  “Come on.” Hope grabbed my arm, pulling me along. “Let’s go in the corn maze.” Hannah and Mervin already led the way.

  I complied. There was no reason for me to stick around and wait for Ben. Dusk began to fall as we scurried around the barn and entered the maze. I stuck close to Hope, asking, “Does anyone have a flashlight?”

  “We’ll be fine,” Mervin said. “It won’t take long to get through it.”

  “This might be harder than you think,” I replied. “Does anyone have a cell phone? In case we don’t find our way.”

  No one did. At least not in our group. I could only hope someone would come along with one if needed.

  We strolled over straw spread across the dirt. The corn stalks towered far over our heads and rustled from the breeze—or maybe from small animals scurrying along the ground. The air was dry and growing colder.

  Mervin and Hannah raced ahead, followed by Martin and Hope. That left me in the back, by myself. I must have taken a wrong turn. The others were too far ahead for me to see what route they’d chosen. I hit a dead end and headed back the way I’d come. Or so I thought. A minute later I was at another dead end. Panic began to overcome me. I headed to the left. Another dead end.

  I took a deep breath and turned to the right. As I rounded the corner, I plowed into someone—a man.

  Don, to be exact.

  I staggered backward.

  “There you are,” he said, tugging on his beard.

  I straightened my Kapp. “You were looking for me?”

  He nodded, the shadow of his hat dark on his face. “Phillip said you came alone.”

  My face grew warm.

  “So it’s not like you and Ben are a couple?”

  My face was burning now.

  He crossed his arms. “Well?”

  I shrugged, hoping to indicate I didn’t know for sure. “Regardless of Ben,” I said, “I’d be willing to walk out of here with you.”

  He smiled, a little. “Meaning?”

  I smiled back, relieved to have a little levity. “Honestly?”

  He nodded.

  “I’m lost. Not that I couldn’t find my way out—I’m sure I eventually would.” I didn’t want to admit I was beginning to panic.

  “Come on,” he said. “I figured it out once. I’m sure I can again.”

  Ahead, Hannah’s laughter rang out, followed by Mervin’s. Then Hope said, as if just realizing I was gone, “Where’s Bea?”

  “She was just behind us,” Martin said.

  A wave of relief washed over me. I wouldn’t have to maneuver the maze alone with Don after all, but then he held his finger to his mouth. I shook my head. “I’m fine,” I called out. “Wait.” I started off in their direction.

  Don pointed to the right. “This way.”

  I shook my head. “Let’s go with them.”

  Reluctantly, Don agreed. When we reached the others, he led the way out of the maze. I trusted the others wouldn’t read anything into the two of us arriving together, but both Hope and Martin gave me concerned looks.

  Darkness fell completely as we exited the maze. Ahead a group of Youngie milled around. Several lanterns hung on stakes, illuminating the area. To the side was a wagon lined with hay bales, with a lantern hanging next to the driver.

  Don grabbed my hand and said, “Let’s go.”

  I pulled my hand away, searching the group, still hoping Ben had shown up. When I didn’t see him, I followed Don. But just as Don helped me into the wagon, Ben appeared at the edge of the crowd.

  The brim of his hat and the shadows of the lanterns kept me from seeing his face clearly. As I sat down on a bale, I waved to him—I wasn’t exactly enthusiastic but, hopefully, I was inviting.

  He waved back, but as Don plopped down Ben’s face fell. That much I could see. Martin and Hope climbed up into the wagon and
sat across from us. I craned my neck. A crowd of Youngie had encircled Ben, just as they used to during our school days. He jumped, making eye contact with me, but then he was back on his feet and the group grew larger, completely blocking my view of Ben.

  Don inched toward me. I scooted away, ramming my thigh into a piece of straw that stuck out of the bale.

  Hope wrinkled her nose, probably at the expression on my face, as Martin leaned forward and said, “Don, do you plan to stay in the area for a while?”

  He inched even closer. “Jah. Of course. I have a good job. I’ll soon be able to get a place of my own.” He put his hand down on the bale, between us, brushing against my thigh. “And be ready for . . . other possibilities.”

  I inhaled sharply.

  “Do you miss Ohio?” Hope asked.

  He shook his head. “Too many bad memories.”

  Hope’s expression turned sympathetic.

  The wagon hit a rut, and we all lurched a little. I turned my attention to the driver. Someone’s Dat—although I wasn’t sure whose. He turned the draft horses onto the highway.

  Martin and Hope kept Don talking about himself the entire time. About a half hour later, as the wagon turned back down the lane to the Funks’ house, a buggy approached from that direction. I turned my head toward it.

  Ben drove it, passing by us, without even a wave. I kept my eyes on the lane, not wanting to face the others. Hope reached across the wagon, put her hand on my leg, and then staggered across and squeezed onto the bale beside me.

  “It’ll all work out,” she whispered. “Besides, if it doesn’t, Don’s not so bad. He could be your backup plan.”

  My eyes filled with tears. I hoped Don hadn’t overheard her. I blinked, shaking my head, trying to ignore the sensation of my heart breaking inside my chest. It would take me a long time to get over Ben again.

  I didn’t speak the entire ride home. Martin drove with Hope up front beside him, while Mervin and Hannah sat in the very back. Hannah giggled every once in a while, and the two whispered back and forth, although I couldn’t hear their words.

  Hope and Martin didn’t talk at all, probably in deference to my angst. I felt bad but wasn’t sure what to do about it. I didn’t want to be unkind, but I had no idea what to say that might make them feel better.