Huckleberry Harvest (The Matchmakers of Huckleberry Hill Book 5)

by Jennifer Beckstrand

  Noah chuckled. “I hope he’s not thirsty.”

  His eyes were such a warm shade of brown, Mandy thought she could very well get lost in them. But really, she needed to tear her gaze from his and go into the house and . . . what was it she needed to do?

  Noah kept up his steady pace with the hay bales. Did he ever tire?

  She should march out of the barn and away from the sight of Noah’s chiseled arms and milk-chocolate brown eyes and go help Mammi do . . . something. Certainly Mammi needed help with something.

  Instead, she leaned against the wall of the barn and watched Noah toss every last bale of hay.

  The something, whatever it was, could wait.

  Chapter Ten

  Mandy parked Dawdi’s buggy in front of Noah’s house, grabbed her heavy canvas bag, and trudged across the sparse grass. Chester lay in his usual spot on the porch, looking very much asleep until Mandy passed him. He opened his eyes and greeted her with a friendly yip. Being the most obedient dog in the world, Chester never barked at inappropriate times or too loudly.

  The bag banged against her hip as she climbed the stairs. The jar inside was heavy, but she had wanted to make sure she brought plenty. If Noah was sick, it might cheer him up.

  On Saturday afternoon, Noah, with his nail gun, had gotten a good start on the shingles on the north side of the roof and promised to return first thing Monday morning. But Noah hadn’t shown up this morning, and Mandy had started to worry. If Noah was sick in bed, he’d need someone to nurse him back to health. The poor boy didn’t have a mamm or a wife to tend to him, and Mandy was certain that his dat couldn’t be much help. Mandy would have to be the one. Helping other people with their problems was what she did best.

  Like Kristina said, Mandy liked to fix things.

  She heard the sound of an air compressor coming from behind the house. Probably from Noah’s dat’s woodshop, which was a dilapidated old shack east of Noah’s equally dilapidated house. Lord willing, Noah’s dat was having a gute morning. Or maybe it was Noah in the woodshop, finishing up some last-minute project before coming to Huckleberry Hill to work on the roof.

  After climbing the stair, she plunked her bag down on the porch. It was too heavy to hold any longer. When she knocked on the door, Chester rose to his feet and stood by her, as if planning on paying a call to his own house.

  “Who is it?” she heard Noah call from the other side of the door.

  “It’s Mandy.”

  Noah didn’t reply. Hadn’t he heard her?

  She put her mouth close to the crack and raised her voice. “We got worried when you didn’t come this morning. I told Dawdi I’d check to make sure you’re okay. Are you sick?”

  “Mandy.” He paused for what seemed like a full minute. “Today’s not a gute day. Will you tell your dawdi I’m sorry? I’ll be by on Wednesday.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s nothing,” he said quietly. At least that’s what she thought he said. His voice had sunk very low.

  She tapped lightly. “Noah, I can’t hear you. Open the door so we can have a proper conversation like two normal people.”

  “I’ll come on Wednesday. Tell your dawdi.”

  He was definitely sick and obviously didn’t want her help. He was so touchy about letting her do things for him. Wasn’t he always telling her to stay out of his life?

  Well, she wasn’t about to let him get away with that. He needed her help, and she’d insist he take it, like it or not.

  But first she must convince him to open the door. “I’ve got something really heavy out here I need you to carry for me.” No response from the other side. “Please? You’ll feel horrible if I rupture a blood vessel in my neck.”

  There was still no sound of movement from the other side, and Mandy feared he’d fallen asleep, being as sick as he was and all.

  “Noah?”

  Just as she was about to throw up her hands and storm off the porch, the doorknob turned, and Noah slowly opened the door. He wore his straw hat pulled low over his eyes, as if the light would blind him if it landed on his face.

  She folded her arms. “You are the most stubborn . . .”

  He lifted his head to look at her.

  “Oh,” she gasped, before promptly clamping her mouth shut. She was really wishing for that third leg now. Yet again, she wanted to kick herself. First the lip and now this. Her heart sank all the way to her toes.

  Mandy didn’t think she’d ever seen a ghastlier bruise. Splotches of midnight purple and grayish black surrounded Noah’s left eye. He looked as if he were wearing an eye patch.

  He met her eye and then turned his face away. “Satisfied?”

  “Oh, Noah. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

  “But you won’t just go away when I ask you to go away.”

  She felt horrible. Once again, her persistence had made things worse. “I thought you were sick.”

  He wouldn’t look at her as he raised his chin. “I’m not sick. You can go now.”

  “Have you put anything on it?”

  He started to close the door. “I’ll come to your dawdi’s on Wednesday.”

  “If you think that bruise is going to disappear by Wednesday, you are gravely mistaken.”

  He gazed at her resentfully. “Then I’ll wait until next Monday.”

  “And lose a week’s worth of wages? Besides, those tarps aren’t going to see us through a downpour. Do you want that on your conscience?”

  He rubbed his hand down the side of his face. “What do you want, Mandy?”

  “That is the stupidest question I’ve ever heard, Noah Mischler.”

  Her reprimand took him by surprise. He raised his eyebrows.

  “I want to help you, of course,” she said.

  “Why?”

  “Because that black eye is probably even more sore than it looks, and I know how to get the swelling down as quick as you please.” She stared at him, hoping by sheer willpower to get him to relent. She couldn’t bear to go away without tending to that eye.

  He exhaled slowly and took off his hat. “Why not? I’m already as humiliated as I can be.”

  Trying not to show how glad she was that she’d gotten her way, she marched past him into the kitchen and pushed up her sleeves. “There’s no humiliation in having a black eye.”

  His jaw tightened. “Jah, there is.”

  That look of shame and despair in his eyes made her want to weep, and she promised herself she’d try to make things better for him. But he must never see how upset she was because of the black eye. He’d think she was making judgments about his dat, when in truth, she was only sorry for Noah’s pain.

  She propped her hands on her hips and adopted her best matter-of-fact tone. “Do you have any potatoes?”

  “Um, okay. In the cupboard down to your left.”

  Chester ambled into the house and planted himself next to Noah, leaving Mandy’s bag sitting by itself on the porch. Noah narrowed his eyes. “Is this the heavy thing you were talking about?”

  “Jah.”

  “So you tricked me into opening the door.”

  She smiled weakly. “I didn’t want to wait on the porch all morning.”

  “You could have gone home.”

  She lifted her chin and arched an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t have done that.”

  He smirked. “I didn’t really think you would.”

  “Besides,” she said, “I didn’t trick you. That bag really is heavy. Pick it up if you don’t believe me.”

  Noah stepped outside. A look of surprise traveled across his face when he lifted the canvas bag. “You weren’t lying,” he said, bringing it into the house and setting it on the table. “But you were exaggerating.”

  “How else was I going to get you to open the door? I knew you wouldn’t want to disappoint your mamm by leaving a poor girl to fend for herself.”

  The hard line of his mouth softened a bit. “What’s in here?”

  Mandy pulled a small sack
of potatoes from the cupboard and set it on the counter. “I brought you a present.”

  “Why?”

  “Never question why someone gives you a present. Just take it and be grateful.” She pulled the gallon bottle full of lemonade from her bag. “You didn’t get any on Saturday.”

  He cracked a smile. “Too much competition.”

  “And you put away our hay. If anybody deserved a glass of lemonade, it was you.” She reached back into the bag and pulled out two strands of knitted yarn and a plastic bag full of marshmallows. She handed him the yarn. “These are knitted napkins rings. Get-well presents from Mammi. She says when all the fuss has died down, she’ll make you your own pot holders.”

  Noah fingered the soft maroon yarn. “I am honored. I know only very special young men get pot holders.”

  She cleared her throat and willed herself not to blush. “Jah. Well, of course. You are very special to Mammi.”

  “Denki.”

  She showed him the bag of marshmallows. “I didn’t have time to bake anything, so I grabbed these on the way out. We can roast them at your stove.”

  “And start a fire?”

  “If you like.”

  Noah chuckled. “I am tempted to burn this place down and start over again.”

  “Sit,” she said, in the bossiest voice she had. “Let me take care of that eye.”

  To her astonishment, he did as she asked. Maybe this morning he felt too disheartened and ashamed to put up a fight. Maybe he knew she wouldn’t take no for an answer. She rummaged through a few of his tidy cupboards until she found a glass and poured Noah some lemonade. Without a word, he downed half of it and set it on the table.

  He sat quietly with his eyes downcast and his hand wrapped around the glass while Mandy peeled a potato and cut it into thick slices. She arranged the slices on a plate and took them to the table. “Here,” she said. “Let me put one of these on.”

  He hissed as she laid the potato slice over his black eye. “Isn’t this supposed to be a steak?” he said.

  “Do you have a steak?”

  “Nae.”

  “I didn’t think so.” She grabbed his hand and raised it to his eye. “Hold the potato in place.”

  “For how long?”

  She pinched her lips together to keep from breaking into a grin. “Three weeks.”

  He flinched in surprise and pulled the potato away from his eye. “Three weeks?”

  She laid her hand over his and nudged the potato back in place. “It’s a joke, Noah. Give it twenty minutes.” Her hand lingered over his for just a second. She loved the rough texture of his skin against her palm.

  He cleared his throat.

  She cleared her throat....

  And pulled her hand away. What had she been thinking?

  “When did this happen?” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

  “Last night.”

  Mandy bit her bottom lip.

  He slid his gaze from her face and stared faithfully at a long, crooked crack in the table. “He never used to drink on the Sabbath.”

  “Did he hit you when you tried to take him home?”

  “When my dat gets that drunk, I can usually deflect the blow. This one caught me by surprise.” He clenched his jaw. “He’s even stronger when he’s had something to drink.”

  She could see the tension in his fingers as he clutched his glass. So much pain. For a boy who found humiliation unbearable, he was certainly bearing more than his share.

  She couldn’t resist laying her hand on his arm. He stiffened at her touch but didn’t pull away. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. No one in the community thinks any less of you.”

  He still refused to look at her as he pulled his arm from under her hand. “That’s because they don’t know how bad it is.”

  “Even if they knew, they wouldn’t blame you.”

  He pulled the potato slice from his face and fixed his eyes on her. They looked to be on fire as his gaze pierced her skull. “Look at me, Mandy. Do I look like a godly man? What will everyone think when they see this? What did you think?”

  She stared at him until he felt compelled to meet her eye. “I am heartbroken that you must bear this trial. That’s what I think.”

  He stared at her as if trying to decide if she was telling the truth. “Then you’re the only one.”

  She was telling the truth. He had to see that. “Your patience and devotion to your fater astonish me.”

  Sitting back, he folded his arms and looked out the window. “I’m not devoted. I’m ashamed.”

  “God is good, Noah. Please don’t be ashamed. It makes my heart sick to hear you say it.”

  He shifted in his chair, making it creak under his solid weight, and swiped some moisture from his eyes. He flashed her a pathetic smile. “I’m not a crybaby.”

  “Nae.”

  “But you’ve seen me bawl twice.”

  She shrugged her shoulders and grinned. “I do that to people. I was kind of disappointed that I didn’t make you cry that first day I came to your house.”

  His grin grew in strength. “I cried when you left.”

  “I’m sure you did.”

  “Cried for joy,” he said.

  Giggling, she cuffed him on the shoulder. “Put that potato back on your eye, or it won’t get better.”

  He positioned the potato over his eye again and took another swallow of lemonade.

  “If you want to be embarrassed,” she said, “think of how silly you look with a potato stuck to your face.”

  “I’d rather have a steak.”

  She opened her mouth like a fish gasping for air. “I’m appalled by the ingratitude.”

  Any hint of cheerfulness fled from his face, and he reached over with his free hand and took hers. Little sparks traveled from her fingertips clear up her arm. “Despite my rudeness, I am very grateful. Denki for the potatoes.”

  For a moment, she forgot how to speak. “It’s nothing.”

  “Nae,” he said, squeezing her hand and sending sparks clear to her toes. “It means everything.”

  “I tricked you to get you to open the door. You didn’t really have a choice.”

  The corners of his mouth twitched. “Next time I’ll leave you on the front step with Chester.”

  “And I would deserve that.”

  The front door opened suddenly, and Mandy started and slid her hand from Noah’s grasp. Noah’s dat stepped into the house carrying a wooden basket shaped like a heart. He immediately caught sight of Mandy sitting at the table. “Ach, du lieva,” he said mildly, trying to pull a smile onto his face. “We have a visitor.”

  Noah glanced at Mandy with evident concern on his face. She smiled and gave him a reassuring nod.

  His dat wasn’t quite as tall as Noah, but he looked almost as strong. He had kind, intelligent eyes like his son, and he walked slightly stooped over, as if he been beaten down by life a few times too many.

  His gaze darted to Noah, and Mandy thought she had never seen someone look so ill at ease.

  Noah tossed his potato on the plate, stood, and put a hand on his dat’s shoulder. Mandy rose to her feet too. “Dat,” Noah said, “this is Mandy Helmuth. Mandy, this is my dat Wayne.”

  “Have we met before?” Wayne asked.

  Mandy’s face flushed, and she saw the muscles in Noah’s jaw twitch. She would never in a million years say yes to that question. He’d been too drunk to remember their first meeting, but Mandy would never shame Noah or his dat by mentioning it. “I’m from Charm. I’m here visiting my grandparents.”

  “Felty and Anna Helmuth?” Wayne said, self-consciously glancing again and again at Noah’s face. “Very gute people. Felty gave me my first job harvesting his soybeans.” His gaze strayed one more time to Noah’s black eye before he lowered his eyes and fell silent.

  Noah eyed Mandy doubtfully. “Dat, we—”

  “I just got finished scolding Noah,” Mandy blurted out, desperate to spare Wayne’s feeli
ngs. “I told him he shouldn’t wander around in the dark. It’s too easy to bump into something and end up with a black eye.”

  “What?” Wayne raised his head, and his face seemed to light up from the inside. She’d opened a door for him. He walked through it. “Oh, jah. We all need to be more careful in the dark. Noah doesn’t like to waste the battery, so he seldom switches on the light at night.”

  Noah peered at her with unmistakable tenderness in his eyes. She thought she might burst at the pure joy of that look.

  “Mandy cut a potato for me,” Noah said.

  Wayne nodded. “I wish we had some tobacco for that bruise.” He took off his hat and hung it on the hook in the entryway. “But we are very grateful for the potato.” He gave Mandy a genuine smile. He and Noah looked most alike when they were happy.

  “I could go to the store for some chewing tobacco,” Mandy said.

  “That will get the tongues wagging,” Noah said. “People will spread rumors that Helmuths’ granddaughter chews tobacco.”

  Mandy giggled. “I don’t think anybody would believe it. I’m not a gute spitter.”

  Wayne laid the heart-shaped wooden basket on the table. “I came in to show Noah what I made. I’ve been cutting round baskets for years, but the tourist shop in Green Bay asked me to try a heart.”

  Mandy smoothed her finger over the wood. The Amish made collapsible baskets like this all the time. The body of the basket was a single piece of wood cut with a jigsaw and then fitted with a handle. Mandy was always fascinated at how one piece of wood could be cut to form such a clever thing.

  “It’s very pretty,” she said. “I’m sure tourists will love the new shape.”

  “It turned out well, Dat.”

  Mandy could tell Wayne was pleased even though he only smiled with his eyes. “I might try some other shapes now that I know how to make a heart template.” He picked up his basket and placed it on the counter behind them. “Would you like some kaffe, Mandy? I’ll make all of us a cup.”

  “How about some lemonade, Dat?”

  Wayne looked at the jug on the table. “Even better.”

  He pulled a cup from the cupboard and all three of them sat down. Chester planted himself next to Noah and peered at Noah’s plate of potatoes as if he thought they might be good enough to eat.