Even with the swish of the broom, Mandy could have heard a pin drop three rooms away. Noah was so quiet, she wondered if he was breathing. How she wished she were anywhere but here!
Thank the good Lord for Mammi. She and Dawdi blew into the house like a fresh spring breeze and dispelled the stale air hanging between Noah and Mandy.
Mammi carried two bulging grocery sacks, her knitting bag, and a wide smile. “Look what I found at the store,” she said, ushering three obviously uneasy boys into the room. “More prospects.”
All three tiptoed just inside the door and fingered the brims of their straw hats.
“I invited them for lunch,” Mammi said. She must have been desperate to find Mandy a husband. She had resorted to bringing strays home.
Grateful for any diversion, even an awkward one, Mandy leaned her broom against the wall and stepped forward to greet her guests, showing ten times more enthusiasm than she felt.
She shook hands with the first young man, who couldn’t have been more than thirteen years old. He stood nearly half a foot shorter than Mandy.
Mammi placed her grocery bags on the table and pointed to the young teenager. “This is Benjamin Hoover, and this,” she said, hooking her elbow around the arm of the middle boy and eagerly pulling him forward, “is his brother Stephen.”
Stephen blushed so hard that his fair, freckly face turned purple. He was definitely older and taller than Benjamin. Probably just the right age for a wife. Mandy breathed an inward sigh of relief. Benjamin was Stephen’s tagalong, not a potential suitor. Thank goodness Mammi wasn’t that desperate.
Benjamin poked his brother with his elbow. “Me and Stephen are visiting from Greenwood to help our Onkel Perry get the feed corn in yet.”
The third boy scratched his chin absentmindedly and looked as if he’d rather be anywhere but here. He was short and stocky, with a neck as thick as his head.
“This is Buddy,” Mammi said. Her enthusiasm seemed to slag a bit. Buddy, with his blank stare and faint body odor, didn’t seem the cream of the crop.
“Nice to meet you,” Buddy said, snorting as if he were clearing his sinuses from the inside.
Mandy pasted a smile on her face and reminded herself that at least she didn’t have to be alone with Noah. “You too.”
Mammi patted Stephen on the back and motioned to a chair at the table. “I promised these boys lunch and a pot holder if they came to Huckleberry Hill to meet you.”
Realizing she’d been holding her breath in mortification, Mandy sucked the air into her lungs and forced it out again. It wouldn’t be a good idea to hyperventilate just now. Mammi’s three recruits eyed her tentatively, as if she had a dread disease. Why else would her mammi be luring potential boyfriends to Huckleberry Hill?
Being careful not to limp, she strolled into the kitchen to show her visitors she wasn’t lame and took a stack of plates from the cupboard. Noah didn’t look at her, and she recoiled at the idea of even glancing his way. “Noah has almost finished the stove,” Mandy said, barely even coughing at the mention of his name. “When it’s ready, I’ll grill some cheese sandwiches.”
Mammi clapped her hands. “I’ll make Eggs Benedict.”
“But, Mammi, it’s not breakfast.”
“Ach, nobody cares about that,” Mammi said, as cheerful as a daisy. “And I’ve been saving up the eggs.”
Mandy relaxed her shoulders and even managed a wan smile. She had no worries about running off this fresh batch of boys. One or two bites of Mammi’s Eggs Benedict should do it.
“Hey, I know you,” Buddy said, maneuvering his large frame around Stephen and Benjamin and pointing to Noah. “You and your dat laid the wood floor at our house.”
Noah’s dark expression descended even deeper into shadow. “We did?”
Buddy propped his elbows on the stove and leaned in for a better look. “It had to be eight or nine years ago. You were just a young teenager. Your dad brought you along and nobody’s ever laid a tighter floor.”
Noah fidgeted uncomfortably, glancing back and forth between Buddy and the roll of tape in his hands. “I recognize you. We did your house in Oconto.”
“That’s right,” Buddy said. “There’s nobody better with wood than your dad. How’s he been?”
Noah didn’t take his eyes from the yellow tape. “Fine. He’s fine.”
Buddy loudly cleared his sinuses again. “I understood he wasn’t doing so good.”
“Dat is gute. He has a woodworking shop behind our house.” Was it her imagination, or had Noah turned deathly pale in a matter of seconds? He seemed uncharacteristically vulnerable, like a little boy afraid of the dark.
Buddy swiped his finger at a piece of lint on the stovetop. “I heard that after what happened to your sister he—”
“Buddy,” Mandy interjected. She hadn’t meant to be quite so loud, but at least she’d gotten everyone’s attention. “I want to know more about you.”
Buddy shifted his weight so that he was still leaning on the new stove, but he faced her and puckered his lips into a passable smile. He still probably suspected she had leprosy or something. “Well, what do you want to know?”
Her mind raced for an interesting topic of conversation. Anything to divert his attention from Noah, who looked as if he might pass out any second now. “I didn’t know there was an Amish community in Oconto. How many families are in your district?”
Buddy twisted his wrist and waved his hand around. “There ain’t any Amish folks I know of.”
“Your family’s without gmayna?” Dawdi chimed in, glancing at Noah and trying to help the conversation along.
Buddy pushed away from the stove and stood up straight. He folded his arms and looked at Dawdi. “Well, I ain’t Amish. I’m a Mennonite. We’ve got a small congregation in Oconto, not far from the lake.”
“Oh,” Mammi said, twisting her lips into a crooked line. Nobody but Mandy and Dawdi would recognize that Mammi’s feathers were ruffled by this news. If she’d been a chicken, no doubt she would have puffed up like a beach ball.
Buddy wore the traditional shirt and trousers with suspenders instead of a belt. He looked Amish enough. No one could fault Mammi for being confused.
Clutching a few tools in his hand, Noah slipped past Buddy and the other boys and out the door, trying to attract as little attention as possible. No doubt he was in a hurry to hook the propane tank to the stove and get away from Buddy and Mandy as soon as possible.
Buddy droned on and on about living near the lake and how he went fishing almost every day except Sundays.
Noah stepped back into the house. He glanced at Buddy. “Anna, do you want me to show you how to use your new stove before I leave?”
“Of course,” Mammi said. “I want to make Eggs Benedict.”
Mammi and Dawdi followed Noah to the stove. He pushed it against the wall and adjusted it until Mammi was satisfied it was straight. She pulled a notebook and pencil from the drawer. “I better write this down in case I forget.”
Mandy sighed. She didn’t need a stove lesson—she used an LP gas stove every day at home—but she would need to keep her potential husbands entertained while Noah explained the stove to her grandparents. She didn’t want Buddy to have a chance to corner Noah again.
She walked to the table and smiled at Buddy as she passed him. Motioning to Ben and Stephen, she pulled a chair from the table. “Do you want to play Scrabble while we wait for Eggs Benedict?”
Ben shrugged. “Sure. What about you, Stephen?”
Stephen blushed and nodded. Stephen was either painfully shy or mute. He hadn’t said a word since he’d gotten here.
Mandy got the Scrabble board from the closet and sat down at the table with her three suitors. Well, two suitors and one chaperone. Turning over letter tiles, she listened as Noah explained how to operate the oven. Mammi asked him to repeat every instruction three times, and he calmly walked her through everything she might need to know about the new appliance.
&
nbsp; Mandy’s mouth curled involuntarily. Even with his long list of bad qualities, Noah proved incredibly patient with her grandparents. Of course, that didn’t mean he was patient with anybody else, especially girls with freckles. She’d personally witnessed how testy he could be. Still, she felt sorry about his dat. And what had happened to his sister? There was obviously a mountain of pain behind all that orneriness.
Benjamin was winning Scrabble handily when Noah finished with her grandparents. Mandy noticed how he carefully packed up his tools and wiped the floor and cupboards where he had left dust or smudges.
She heard Dawdi invite him back tomorrow to build a rain shelter for the propane tank. She was mildly pleased when she heard Noah agree to return and then chastised herself for being so shallow. He might be handsome and patient with old people, but Noah Mischler’s faults would fill a bathtub to overflowing. She didn’t need the aggravation he brought to her life.
As Mandy tried to form seven consonants into a word, she watched out of the corner of her eye as Noah carefully picked up her bowl of cookie dough and wedged it into his toolbox. He paused and looked at her, compelling her to lift her gaze to his face. He gifted her with a genuine smile, making her heart swell as wide as the sky.
What was that for? Wasn’t he trying to avoid her?
Before she had a chance to figure it out, he snapped his toolbox shut and marched out the door.
Good-bye, Noah.
And good riddance.
She put her hand to her warm cheek. She really hoped Noah liked the cookies. He had saved her life. He deserved something for that.
Mandy wasn’t nearly as speedy a knitter as Mammi, but she would have been able to hold her own in a knitting club. Her fingers were nimble, and she seldom dropped a stitch. Mammi had taught her well.
Mandy and Mammi sat in the great room, Mammi in her rocker and Mandy on the sofa, knitting pot holders. Dawdi lounged in his new recliner and read the newspaper.
Yesterday, Mammi had given Benjamin, Stephen, and Buddy each a pot holder as promised, and found that she only had one left in her closet. Mandy had offered to help her replenish the supply, and right quick.
Mandy used a bicolored blue and green yarn. It made a pretty pattern on the finished pot holders. Mammi alternated between bright yellow yarn and fluorescent pink. She liked her pot holders to pop, she said.
For the three meals they’d cooked so far, the new stove and oven had worked wonderful gute. The kitchen had not caught fire, neither had it blown up. Mammi’s Eggs Benedict yesterday for lunch was as runny and undercooked as if she’d made it on her old cookstove. Dinner last night had consisted of baked potatoes smothered in something Mammi called Thai peanut sauce, which wasn’t too bad except for the layer of cooking oil that floated atop the mashed peanuts.
Mammi had made Eggs Benedict once again this morning for breakfast, and Mandy was beginning to hope that all the chickens would run away and there’d be no more eggs to poach. She feared if she had to eat another runny egg white, she might get deathly ill.
Maybe she’d volunteer to make breakfast tomorrow morning.
Every time she looked at that stove, Mandy thought of Noah and the way he’d smiled at her when she picked up the crescent wrench. Her fingers paused in her knitting. She liked it when he smiled at her.
Wrinkling her nose in disgust, she concentrated harder on her task. Why did he have to be so aggravating the rest of the time? If he was going to take offense at every little thing she said, she wanted nothing to do with him, attractive smile or not.
Mammi pulled at the ball of yarn in her lap. “I was not happy about giving Buddy one of my pot holders. The Mennonites are lovely people, but if I’m going to feed a good meal to a boy, he’d better be someone my granddaughter can actually marry. He should have told me he was Mennonite before I invited him to lunch.”
“Maybe he didn’t think you cared,” Dawdi said with his head buried in his paper.
“Of course I care. Any boy with a lick of sense would have been able to tell that. I invited him home to meet my Amish granddaughter. He should have known I’d want an Amish boy.”
“You’re right, Banannie. He did seem a little thick.”
In between stitches, Mammi glanced at Mandy. “What did you think of Stephen?”
Mandy smiled a pleasant sort of noncommittal smile. “He’s quiet.”
“There’s something very appealing about a shy boy,” Mammi said. “It shows humility. Felty was shy when we were in primary school together.”
Dawdi’s paper rustled slightly. “Only shy around you, Annie. My tongue tied in knots anytime you came within ten feet. You were wonderful pretty. Still are.”
“Now, Felty,” Mammi scolded, but her eyes twinkled as she said it. She finished off another pot holder and clipped the yarn. “You must choose a boy soon, Mandy, or we’ll be knitting pot holders till Christmas.”
“How many more boys are you planning on introducing me to?” Mandy asked. Surely a dozen pot holders would be enough. They’d run out of boys before they ran out of pot holders.
“Maybe you’ve already met the right one,” Dawdi said, still engrossed in his paper. It wondered her how he could follow the conversation while reading.
Mammi lowered her knitting and regarded Dawdi thoughtfully. “You could be right, Felty. Maybe she hasn’t given them enough of a chance.”
Dawdi peered over his glasses to look at Mandy. “Noah did a fine job with the stove, don’t you think?”
“Jah,” Mammi said. “Such a gute boy.” She looked up at the ceiling, deep in thought. “Maybe I should have given Adam Wengerd a blue pot holder. I think he got brown.”
“It was a very nice brown pot holder,” Mandy said. On Friday before he had left the house, Adam Wengerd had asked Mandy to go riding with him this coming Thursday. She had agreed reluctantly. She didn’t want a Bonduel boyfriend, but she couldn’t very well turn him down when he’d come to Huckleberry Hill that day by special invitation from her mammi. But Mammi need never know about her coming date. Mandy didn’t want her to get her hopes up.
Mammi was still deep in thought. “Davy Burkholder isn’t fond of pie. Do you think we should invite him over for cake?”
“Noah loved Mandy’s pie,” Dawdi said.
“What if we had your cousin Titus put in a good word with Freeman Kiem?” Mammi said. “He probably doesn’t realize we’ve only got four weeks left.”
Mandy had a date with Freeman scheduled for tonight. She hadn’t told Mammi about that one either.
“Maybe we should just forget about it,” Mandy said. “I didn’t come to Bonduel to meet a boy. I came to see Kristina and spend time with my grandparents.”
Mammi leaned over and patted Mandy’s hand. “That’s sweet, dear. But don’t you worry. I’m not giving up, no matter what.”
Mandy hadn’t expected her to.
Dawdi folded his newspaper and attempted to lower the footrest by pushing with his feet. He grunted a few times, but the footrest wouldn’t budge. He finally reached down and pulled the lever on the side of the recliner. Mandy nearly jumped out of her skin as the recliner catapulted Dawdi into the air. For a brief second, he seemed to take flight before landing with his feet on the floor. “I love that chair,” he said. “It always gives me a good push.”
That chair might have been fine for Dawdi, but it had almost given Mandy a heart attack.
Dawdi plopped his paper in the kindling bin and thumbed his suspenders. “Noah’s coming today to put up a shelter over the propane tank.”
“Such a nice boy,” Mammi said. Mandy wasn’t altogether sure which boy she was talking about. Six of them seemed to be floating around in her head at the same time.
Mandy didn’t like to gossip, but surely her grandparents could tell her something about Noah’s dat. At least they could give her enough information so she wouldn’t bring up a forbidden topic in Noah’s presence. “Did something happen to Noah’s sister?” she asked. “He seemed uncomfor
table when Buddy brought it up.”
Dawdi stroked his horseshoe beard, and a deep line appeared between his eyebrows. “Little thing died of a heart problem. I was still in my seventies. Maybe seven years ago.”
“Oh,” Mandy said. “That’s too bad.”
“Noah can’t talk about it. I suspect that wound will be fresh for many years.” Dawdi went behind Mammi’s rocking chair and put a hand on her shoulder. She didn’t stop knitting but tilted her head to nuzzle her cheek against the back of his hand. “We know a little of how that feels.”
Mammi and Dawdi had lost three of their thirteen children. Andrew had drowned when he was just a toddler, and Martha Sue and Bartholomew had been struck by a car on the way to school. More than fifty years had passed, but Mandy could see plain as day that it still hurt.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
Dawdi’s lips curled into a sad smile. “We rejoice that our little ones are with Jesus. But we sure miss them.”
“Is Noah’s dat still grieving hard for his daughter?”
Dawdi nodded and looked away. “Real hard. His dat hasn’t been quite right since then. Noah does his best to take care of him.”
Mandy’s heart sank, and she repented of every unkind word she’d said to Noah on his porch that first day. He might have been insensitive to Kristina, but his burdens were bigger than Mandy could have imagined. She was ashamed of herself. No wonder Noah had reacted so sharply when she had mentioned his dat. Not only had her question upset him, but he had accused Kristina of putting her up to it. What did the breakup with Kristina have to do with Noah’s dat?
Mandy thought of their spying on Noah by the river and her surprise that Kristina would stoop to such childish tricks.
What about Noah’s dat? Just how badly had Kristina behaved?
Her heart leaped into her throat as someone knocked on the door. That would be Noah. How could she face him, knowing how unfair she’d been? Would he recognize the sympathy he saw in her eyes and resent her for it?
If there was one thing she thought she knew about Noah Mischler, it was that he would not want to be pitied.
Huckleberry Harvest (The Matchmakers of Huckleberry Hill Book 5) Page 7
