A Courtship on Huckleberry Hill

by Jennifer Beckstrand

  Sam clenched his jaw and closed his eyes. His breath hung in the cold air as the world waited for him to say something. “You shouldn’t have walked.”

  “I wanted you to take me home on your horse,” she said, lowering her eyes and tracing her shoe around in the snow. She probably hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but at least she was honest.

  Sam looked as if he might explode, and Elsie had to put a stop to it. She started walking toward the little shelter where she stabled her horse during the school day. “I’ll be fine,” she called over her shoulder. “It’s too cold for any of us to be out.”

  “But Elsie . . .” Sam said.

  She turned and gave him a dazzling smile. She had just confessed her love. He had just given her the most exciting, most exhilarating experience of her entire life. Who knew how much happiness one kiss could create? Well, four kisses. Oy, anyhow! “I will see you . . .” She almost tripped up and said “tomorrow,” but for sure and certain, Rose would show up at Sam’s house if she knew Elsie was going to be there. “I will see you soon.”

  His face relaxed, and he smiled at her and made her tingle all over, even if there was a little irritation in the lines around his eyes. “See you soon, Elsie.”

  Rose’s voice was clear enough, even the farther away Elsie got. “Why will you see her soon? There’s no reason to see her soon.”

  Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough. “Long division is next,” she called.

  “Long division? I thought you weren’t going to allow her to tutor anymore.” Elsie smiled to herself. Rose’s voice was carried away on the wind.

  * * *

  Sam was so angry that he refused to speak the entire ride home—not because he didn’t want to give Rose a good talking-to, but because he tended to regret things he said in anger. Although if he waited to set Rose straight when he wasn’t angry, he might never do it. She’d gone too far this time, and he intended to put a stop to it. He grunted his displeasure. She’d gone too far more than once, and he should have put a stop to it long ago. It was no one’s fault but his own that Rose was still baking him cakes and butting into his family’s business.

  Rose was comfortably settled against his chest with both hands clutching the saddle horn, cooing and humming and smiling to herself as if she were the happiest girl in the world. Vell, of course she was. She’d gotten her way again, and Sam hadn’t done anything to stop her. She was just another Wally, manipulating Sam’s feelings so he’d feel sorry for her and give in to whatever she wanted.

  In spite of the fact that Rose was on his horse and he was ferociously mad at her, his heart swelled at the thought of Elsie Stutzman, the prettiest teacher in the whole state. He had fought the urge to kiss her until it had overpowered him, but he certainly didn’t regret it. That kiss was the best thing that had ever happened to him. No other experience even came close.

  And she was Anna and Felty Helmuth’s granddaughter. Sam shook his head and stifled a chuckle. In his imagination, Anna’s granddaughter was a thirty-five-year-old spinster with bad teeth and eyes squinty from knitting too much. He shouldn’t have resisted Anna so adamantly. She really did have a gift as a matchmaker.

  “It’s wonderful cold, ain’t not?” Rose said, turning and smiling up at him as if he were enjoying the ride as much as she was. He didn’t reply. If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all.

  Sam frowned to himself. He’d tried to meet Anna’s granddaughter on Yutzys’ bridge months ago and Carolyn had scolded him. What had she told him? That Anna’s granddaughter didn’t want anything to do with him? You could be the bishop’s son, and you still wouldn’t be good enough for her.

  He pressed his lips together. He’d made a mess of things with Wally, and he’d said more than a few mean things to Elsie. But then again, she’d told him she loved him.

  Maybe she hadn’t been thinking straight.

  He would have to prove himself before she had time to reconsider. He loved her. He would be devastated if she decided she didn’t love him back. Hopelessness wrapped an icy hand around his throat. He should have left Rose at the school and seen Elsie home. What must she think of him?

  She could do so much better.

  His elbow brushed against his coat pocket, and he heard the crinkling of paper inside. Anna had written him another letter. At least Anna thought he was good enough for her granddaughter. That was something. He needed all the help he could get.

  Because of the snow and the cloud cover, it was dark when they reached Rose’s house. It was easy enough to find, though, because several lanterns glowed inside.

  He stopped the horse on the road. Surely she could make it up the driveway herself.

  “Ach,” she said, furrowing her brow. “I thought I might come to your house and get you settled in.”

  “No need. We’re already well settled in.” Whatever that meant.

  She stuck out her bottom lip. “I need to get my yummasetti pan.”

  “I’ll wash it and send it over with Danny tomorrow.”

  She didn’t move. “But maybe we can play Scrabble.”

  He’d have to be more direct if he wanted to get rid of her. He just hadn’t figured out a way to be nice about it. As long as he was still on the horse, he’d never get her down without prying her off. Heaving a sigh, he slid off his horse and turned to her. With a secret smile, she laid her hands on his shoulders and let him help her down.

  “Do you want to come in?” she said. “I’ll make cocoa.”

  It was his own fault that Rose still held out hope that he was interested. “Rose, you’ve been a wonderful-gute friend, but I don’t want you coming over anymore.”

  She scrunched her lips together. “Why not?”

  “You want to be my girlfriend, but you need to find another boy.”

  “You don’t mean that.”

  “I do.”

  Her bottom lip stuck out so far, she could have used it as a shelf for acorns. “Everybody knows we’re boyfriend and girlfriend. You’ve been courting me for months. Even my dat thinks so.”

  He shouldn’t have been so willing to take Rose’s cakes and casseroles. “We’re not courting, no matter what your dat thinks.”

  Rose whimpered as if she’d been deeply hurt, but in truth she seemed more angry than wounded. “People will say you used me, and you were sneaking around with that teacher behind my back.”

  “Rose, I don’t want to be your boyfriend, and I wouldn’t be your boyfriend even if Elsie had never come to Bonduel.”

  “You admit you like her.”

  He expelled a mighty puff of air, enough to make its own cumulous cloud in front of his face. “Jah. I like her.” He loved her, but Rose was not going to be the first to hear it.

  Rose sniffed precisely once. “You kissed her. I saw it through the window. I was so shocked I froze like an icicle.”

  Oh, sis yuscht. Her breath came out in little spurts, like a leaky bicycle tire. Sam cupped his hands around her shoulders to keep her from falling over—or smacking him in the face. “Rose, I don’t want to be your boyfriend. It’s time to find someone else.”

  “You like me. You wouldn’t touch my shoulders like that if you didn’t like me.”

  Sam dropped his hands to his sides. “It’s cold. I’ve got to go.”

  “Don’t you even care that I made you all those pies and cakes? And divinity. You have to make like seven batches before you get it right. I made you divinity.”

  Sam slumped his shoulders. “I never asked you to.”

  “That teacher tricked you. Nobody likes fractions that much.”

  Sam couldn’t help but smile. “Elsie does.”

  Rose was practically spitting now. “That’s what you think.”

  Sam nudged Rose aside and climbed back on his horse. “Can you see your way in?” She was wonderful upset. He didn’t want her to fall, even if he was thoroughly annoyed with her.

  She kicked a small block of ice at her feet. “I’m almost twen
ty. Not a child anymore.”

  He had to be sure she knew, had to be sure she didn’t hold out any hope. He struck the final blow. “Rose,” he said, turning his horse around. “I’m not coming to your birthday party.”

  Dear Anna,

  I am sorry I have been so stubborn. I really, really, really want to meet your granddaughter. When can I come to dinner?

  Sam

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “Miss Stutzman?”

  Elsie looked up from Toby’s penmanship assignment, which she hadn’t really been reading. She’d lose her job for sure and certain if she didn’t start paying attention. How long had Jethro been standing there? “Yes, Jethro?”

  “Miss Stutzman, it was time for recess five minutes ago.”

  Recess was as important to die kinner as breathing. They watched the clock faithfully when it came to recess. Jethro was one of her most enthusiastic softball players, and he was probably quite frustrated that Elsie had been seriously distracted for the last two weeks. “Very well. Go back to your seat and I’ll ring the bell.”

  Elsie glanced out the window. The sky was unusually dark for ten o’clock in the morning. Ominous clouds rolled in from the west, and it looked like it might come down hard. The children always went out to recess unless it was bitterly cold or pouring rain or lightning was a danger, and even the bad weather didn’t discourage some of the stalwarts.

  Especially not Wally and Reuben. If it was raining too hard to play softball, they went outside anyway and practiced swinging the bat or organized die kinner into playing tag. Now that Wally had his new leg, he could run just as fast as anybody and faster than most. Elsie had never seen Wally so happy, even though his new leg was surely causing him a great deal of pain and even though they had resumed math lessons three nights a week. He didn’t seem to miss his Xbox, even though he and Reuben sometimes played FIFA during recess.

  Reuben was doing better too. Having a loyal friend like Wally tended to make a kid feel at least a little secure. Sam had gone to the bishop, and the bishop had talked Alvin Schmucker into letting Reuben spend a few weeks at Wally’s house. Reuben’s mater and sister had also been temporarily removed from the home and had gone to live with the bishop and his family. The change had made a lot of difference in Reuben’s demeanor. Who wouldn’t walk with more spring in his step when he wasn’t living in constant fear?

  Elsie had gotten all her toilet paper back, and Reuben’s punishment had been to clean the porta-potty every day for a whole week. He hadn’t liked it, but he hadn’t complained either. Elsie had stood up to his fater. Reuben wasn’t going to forget that anytime soon.

  Of course, none of this was the distraction that Sam Sensenig proved to be. Just thinking about him made her heart trip all over itself and her body tingle with warmth. After tutoring and dinner three nights a week at Sam’s house, she and Sam would sit in the kitchen and talk or play Scrabble with Wally and Maggie or, if it was warm enough, stroll around his farm and talk about his dreams for the dairy.

  After Wally sold his Xbox, Sam was more open to the possibility of a dairy. Within a few short weeks, he had started talking about it more, and his eyes always lit up at the mention of it. Elsie loved how practical Sam was about his future. He didn’t want to start a dairy until he had the funds and the plans in place. He needed a little bit more money, but hoped to have it after harvest time.

  On the days when she didn’t tutor, he came after school and helped her tidy up the classroom or put up displays, even though he didn’t have a lick of artistic ability and she usually had to rearrange things when he left. They talked and laughed, and she was sure that no girl had ever been happier.

  She should probably invite Sam to Mammi and Dawdi’s house so he could court her like a normal Amish boy with a normal Amish girl, but Mammi’s feelings would be hurt if she knew that Elsie was in love with someone Mammi hadn’t picked out. So even when Sam had asked, she’d put him off. It would be better if Elsie broke the news to Mammi first, maybe sometime after the school year was over.

  Every time Elsie thought of Sam, it was like a thousand fireworks going off in her head or a thrilling buggy ride up and down the roads of Bonduel. Nobody had ever loved anyone as much as she loved Sam Sensenig. Who wouldn’t be distracted?

  Elsie stood up to ring the bell just as a clap of thunder rattled the schoolhouse. Several children jumped out of their skins, and some ducked their heads as if to avoid getting hit by lightning. Three or four of the smallest children whimpered or called out. Thunder could be a terrifying thing. “It’s all right, everyone. We’re safe in here.” She went to little Titus Nelson, who was curled into a ball at his desk with his hands clamped over his ears. She picked him up and cradled him in her arms. “Cum, Titus,” she said. “Let’s see if we can catch a look at some of that lightning.”

  Another flash of light and an immediate roar of thunder. The twins, Lily and Lois, screamed. Maizy Mischler jumped from her desk and ran into Wally’s arms. Wally set her on his lap and wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

  Linda Sue Glick’s eyes were as round as saucers. “Are we going to get hit by lightning, Miss Stutzman?”

  “My great uncle got struck by lightning,” Mark Hoover said. “He went deaf in one ear.”

  “I don’t want to go deaf,” Mary Zook wailed.

  Bouncing Titus on her hip, Elsie walked to one of the many windows. “Do you know what causes that loud noise?” she said, acting as if this were the most thrilling thing to happen since Wally hit his home run last fall. “The lightning is electricity and it heats up the sky, and the sky gets so hot, it makes a big bang.” If she made it sound exciting instead of terrifying, the children might not disintegrate into a panic.

  And it was exciting. Lightning was one of Elsie’s favorite things. Even though Amish schools taught very little science, it had always fascinated her.

  “But are we going to get hit?”

  “Cum, everyone,” she said, motioning to the windows around the room. “Cum and see.”

  The children congregated around the windows. Wally lifted Maizy so she could see outside. Some of the smaller ones dragged desks to stand on. On Elsie’s side, a bolt of lightning traveled from one cloud to another, and the noise rattled the floorboards.

  “Did you see that?” Toby said.

  Elsie put her forehead against Titus’s and pointed to the clouds. “Lightning always finds the easiest place to land, usually in a field or a lake. But even if it hit our school, we might get shaken up a bit, but we would be okay. Then you could tell all your friends you were hit by lightning.” Elsie sincerely hoped it didn’t come to that—especially if the lightning started a fire. She didn’t even want to think about that possibility. No use starting an evacuation unless she had to.

  The children on the other side of the room squealed, and at least half of them jumped away from the windows as light flashed and a crack of thunder split the air.

  “It hit right out in left field,” Wally yelled.

  Jethro laughed nervously. “It’s gute we weren’t playing a game, or Ida Mae would be dead.”

  “I would not,” Ida Mae protested.

  The loud roar was followed by the clatter of a million pebbles. Penny-sized balls of hail fell from the sky as if a dump truck had scattered its gravel, making a terrific racket on the roof. The hail fell in the school yard, hitting the ground and bouncing like popping popcorn. Elsie had always been fascinated with hail. For sure and certain, the children would get a science lesson about the wonder of thunderstorms next week.

  “It’s popping!” Lydia Ruth squeaked.

  Squeals of distress turned to squeals of delight as little balls of hail covered the ground like snow. No wonder it could be so devastating to crops.

  The hail couldn’t have lasted more than three minutes. Just enough time to give everyone a thrill. The thunder faded to a low rumble and the sky turned a dark shade of greenish-blue as the storm moved on across the plain.

 
Elsie set Titus on his feet, saying a silent prayer of thanks that only left field had been hit by lightning. “Well, that was exciting for a minute, wasn’t it? Time to go back to arithmetic.”

  “Miss Stutzman, we can still go out.” It was Jethro again, not about to be robbed of his recess time on account of a little thunderstorm.

  Wally lit up like the Fourth of July. “We should check where the lightning hit. Make sure we can still play ball.”

  Elsie slowly curled her lips. “All right. Fifteen minutes, but wear your gloves, coats, and hats.” Most of them didn’t hear her last instructions—too much shuffling of feet and too many shouts for joy.

  Ida Mae helped Maizy and a couple of the other first graders on with their coats before shepherding them down the stairs and out the door. Elsie peeked out the window. Wally and the other boys were already halfway to left field to inspect the damage, kicking up little balls of hail as they went.

  Elsie put on her coat and bonnet and ambled down the stairs and outside. Might as well be part of the excitement. It wasn’t every day that lightning struck the school yard and hail covered the ground like a blanket of dandelions.

  Most of the older children had hiked to left field to look at the place where the lightning had landed. Others were swinging on the swings or playing on the merry-go-round. A group of second and third graders had organized a game of freeze tag, appropriate for the cold temperature.

  Elsie drew her brows together. The air was calm, but the sky was unusually dark. Something wasn’t right. She snapped her head to the left as a low, ominous shriek, like the wheels of a freight train against a track, caught her attention. Her heart skipped a beat. A cloud of dirt and debris crawled along the ground half a mile to the west, heading straight for the playground. Behind it in the air, a black funnel cloud swirled like a dust devil—times one hundred.

  She’d never seen one, but if that wasn’t a tornado, she’d be glad to eat her bonnet. “Children, children!” she screamed to the ones nearest to her. She yanked Toby and Max by the shoulders and pulled them to a stop. “Hold hands and go to the cellar now!”