Huckleberry Harvest (The Matchmakers of Huckleberry Hill Book 5)

by Jennifer Beckstrand

  “Dat,” he called. “Dinner’s ready.”

  Noah didn’t know exactly how, but he could always tell instantly when Dat was in a low mood. Tonight was one of those nights. He shuffled into the kitchen with slumped shoulders and a scowl on his face. His beard and hair were tangled and matted, and his hands shook as if he couldn’t calm his nerves.

  Noah’s heart sank. It had been good for a few days, ever since Dat had given him the black eye. Dat always felt horrible after striking his own son, even if he didn’t remember doing it. The black eye had been a visible reminder of his weakness. After a drunken fit, Dat always promised Noah that he’d clean up his life, but the transformation only lasted until the irresistible need for a drink overtook him again.

  The only reason Dat made those wooden baskets was to earn enough money for his next drink. Noah kept a tight hold on his own money, paying their rent, sending what he could spare to Mamm, buying feed for the horses, but he couldn’t forbid Dat from making baskets or spending the money the way he wanted. Noah closed his eyes and reminded himself that no matter how much he wanted it or how hard he prayed, his dat was never going to change. Noah would square his shoulders and do what needed to be done for his dat, even if that meant trekking to the bar three or four nights a week to fetch home his drunk father. Some things just couldn’t be fixed.

  He divided the eggs between two plates and put a piece of toast and an apple slice next to them. He put the plates on the table, sat next to his dat, and bowed his head in silent grace. He never looked to see if his dat prayed. Noah always said an extra prayer for both of them, just in case.

  They ate without conversing until they heard a knock on the door. Noah’s heart leaped to attention. The only people who ever came to visit were the bishop and—since about two weeks ago—Mandy Helmuth. With his dat in such a sour mood, he was hoping for the bishop. He’d be mortified for Mandy to see his dat like this.

  Noah opened the door and caught his breath. Mandy, smiling and looking like a daisy in winter, stood on the porch with an Englisch woman Noah didn’t recognize. Her blond hair was cropped short, and she looked to be about his mamm’s age or a little younger. The Englisch woman stuck out her hand, and Noah took it out of habit. Then he maneuvered his body so that neither Mandy nor the Englischer could see into the kitchen and catch sight of his dat.

  “You must be Noah,” the woman said. “I’m Jessica Trumble. Mandy said you could use my help.”

  Noah glanced doubtfully at Mandy. She smiled with all the confidence of someone who thought she was right.

  Just what did she think she was right about?

  He self-consciously ran his finger along his eyebrow. The bruises around his eye had faded to pinks and yellows, but they were still visible and still spoke of his shame. Had the Englischer noticed them? “Who are you?” he managed to ask, even though he felt he had a mouthful of sawdust. He didn’t care who she was. Mandy should know better than to bring a stranger into his home.

  Shouldn’t she know better?

  “I’m not here to do anything but talk to you about the situation with your dat. Can we come in?”

  “No,” he said, the pressure building inside his chest. Mandy pressed her lips together, and something like uncertainty flashed in her eyes.

  The woman gave Mandy a sideways glance. “Mandy said this is very hard for you. I understand completely. I used to be an alcoholic. When I was trying to get sober, I wouldn’t have made it through to the other side without help from mentors and friends. And professionals. I’m a volunteer for a program through Al-Anon, and I want to help you explore treatment options for your dat. Maybe we could talk for a minute.”

  His heart pounded against his chest over and over again like an iron-cold sledgehammer. He nearly winced at the pain. What had Mandy done? “Who else knows you’re here?”

  “No one,” the woman replied. “We keep everything highly confidential.” She laced her hands together in front of her. “Look, I know this is hard, but Mandy is worried about you. She thought you might appreciate knowing you’re not alone.”

  “I like being alone,” he said. He clenched his jaw and ground his teeth until they ached.

  Dread wrapped an icy hand around his chest as he heard his dat rise from the table and come to stand behind him. “What do you want?” Dat said.

  “We want to help,” Mandy said. Her smile had disappeared along with that smug confidence she’d worn only a few minutes before.

  Dat pressed into Noah, and Noah stood his ground to keep his dat from getting too close to Mandy. He jabbed his finger in Mandy’s direction. “We don’t need your help.” Dat spat the words out of his mouth much as he did whenever the bishop came over. “They took my Rosie. I don’t want help from nobody.”

  Noah turned around and pressed a hand to Dat’s chest as he became increasingly agitated. “Dat, sit down.”

  Dat always resisted any attempt Noah made to rein him in, but Noah was stronger than his dat and had been for several years. He wrapped one arm tightly around Dat’s back and firmly clasped his arm as he shoved him back to the table and pushed him into his chair. Dat withered the minute he sat down, as if he were too tired to fight anymore.

  “Finish your eggs, Dat.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  Noah glanced at Mandy and the other woman standing on the porch gazing with pitiful curiosity into his tiny, run-down shack. Into his pathetic, run-down life. Shame and anger nearly tore him in half. Mandy had seen too much. Mandy knew too much.

  He wanted her out. He wanted her out now.

  Mandy and the other woman stepped back as Noah strode out of the house and closed the door behind him. He wanted to yell, to hurl the words out of his mouth like a thousand sharp daggers. Instead, he tightened his gut and kept his voice low as he pointed to the white sedan parked on the road. “I want you to go. And please don’t come back.” He looked pointedly at Mandy. “It only makes things worse.”

  An ocean of pain pooled in Mandy’s eyes. Why should she feel hurt? He was the one humiliated beyond repair. “I thought you might want to—”

  “You thought wrong,” he said, controlling his voice and disciplining his expression.

  The woman gave Noah a resigned half smile and put her arm around Mandy. “I’m sorry we bothered you,” she said. “I didn’t really understand the situation.”

  He scrubbed his fingers through his hair. “You can’t do this to people.”

  “Come on, Mandy,” the woman said. “Let’s go.”

  Mandy and the other woman finally stepped off his porch. At that moment, Chester ran from around the side of the house and nudged his nose against Mandy’s hand as she walked away.

  “No, Chester,” Noah barked.

  Chester obediently changed directions, bounded up the steps, and sat down next to Noah. Mandy dared a glance back at him. Her look, heavy with uncertainty and ache, was like a knife right to the heart. He folded his arms across his chest to keep the pain from seeping out. He’d done the right thing.

  But had he lost Mandy’s friendship because of it?

  A few hard words between them, and it suddenly felt like his heart had been torn from his chest.

  It had never felt so rotten to be right.

  Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he laid a hand on Chester’s head. At least he still had his loyal dog. Chester would never try to fix Noah’s dat or stick his nose in other people’s business. Chester didn’t even stick his nose in the toilet.

  “I’ll drive you home,” he heard the Englischer tell Mandy.

  “Thanks anyway,” Mandy said, her voice so dull that Noah barely recognized it. “I’d like to walk.”

  She’d like to walk? What could she have been thinking? It was almost dark, and Huckleberry Hill was a forty-five-minute hike from here. She didn’t even have a coat.

  “Are you sure?” the Englischer said.

  Noah didn’t hear Mandy’s reply, but the woman got into her car and drove away. Foolish Engl
ischer. She should have insisted on driving Mandy home. Didn’t she know what a long walk it was?

  Without a second look at Noah, Mandy wrapped her arms around herself against the chill and trudged up the road in the direction of her grandparents’ house.

  He’d just kicked her off his porch, and she probably wouldn’t want him within a hundred feet, but he couldn’t let her walk home by herself. His mamm had raised him better than that. Growling in frustration, he bolted into the house.

  Dat sat at the table with his face buried in his hands. This little incident would send him running for a drink tonight. Alcohol made him forget. These days he had more that he wanted to forget than he wanted to remember.

  “I’m going out, Dat,” he said, grabbing two coats from the hook and the toast from his plate.

  “So am I.”

  Noah hesitated for only a moment. There was nothing he could do to stop his dat. Hopefully his trip to the bar wouldn’t turn into another black eye by morning.

  He slid his arms into his coat as he vaulted off the porch and jogged in Mandy’s direction. “Come on, Chester,” he called, snapping his fingers for his dog. Sometimes a man needed his trustworthy hound tagging along.

  Trudging as slowly as she was, Mandy hadn’t gotten far. The gravel and dirt crunched beneath his feet as he approached her.

  “I like being alone,” she said without turning around. She picked up her pace like she thought she could outrun him. She couldn’t. Her legs were far shorter than his. Chester bounded along beside him as if they were embarking on a grand adventure instead of chasing an aggravatingly stubborn girl who didn’t even have the good sense to get a ride home when she had the chance.

  “You need a coat,” he said, taking a few long strides to catch up with her.

  She kept walking and refused to look at him. “I’m fine.”

  “Don’t make me more irritated than I already am, Mandy. Take a coat so you won’t freeze to death.”

  “Oh, jah. I wouldn’t want to make you irritated.” She stared straight ahead and scowled with her whole face. “Why don’t you stay away from me if you find me so irritating.”

  “Because you need a coat.”

  Chester jogged beside her as if he were playing a game with her. She was practically running now. “Go away, Noah.”

  Noah grabbed her arm. She yanked it away from his grasp. “Why are you mad at me?” he said. “You’re the one who brought that Englischer to my home.”

  “I just wanted to help. I thought you’d appreciate it.”

  He eyed her as if she were crazy. “Mandy, you know me. Why in a million years did you think that I would want help from anyone? You completely humiliated me when I’ve already told you, some things can’t be fixed. My dat can’t be fixed.”

  “With God, all things are possible.”

  He frowned. If she wanted to quote scripture, he could quote contradicting verses all day long. “The scriptures also say to be still.”

  She halted suddenly and turned on him. “I know. You don’t want to be bothered.” Her tone was thick with bitterness. “So why are you still following me?”

  He clenched his teeth and thought seriously about turning around and leaving her to her own devices. But he couldn’t do it, no matter how angry he was with her. “Because you need a coat.”

  She exhaled slowly and snatched the coat from his hand. “Fine.”

  Unfortunately, Noah and his dat didn’t own any small-sized coats. The sleeves fell past her hands, and the body of the coat probably could have gone around her twice. She looked kind of cute, like a child stuffed into a puffy snowsuit, until she glared at him and marched away from him as if he had a contagious disease. She couldn’t go as fast with his coat hanging halfway to her knees.

  He followed a few paces behind.

  “I put the coat on,” she said, turning her head slightly to her left as she trudged along. “You can go away now.”

  “I have to make sure you get home safely.”

  “Why should you care?” She threw the words behind her.

  “A girl should never walk home alone.”

  “If I get run over by a car or fall into a ditch, at least I won’t be able to bother you anymore.”

  He shoved the air out of his lungs in irritation. “Mandy, my dat’s life is none of your concern.”

  She nearly tripped as she tried to go faster. “Follow me home if you must, but don’t lecture me.”

  “Why would I lecture you? You don’t listen.”

  Her steps faltered before she quickly recovered and crossed to the other side of the road. Walking on the opposite side parallel with Mandy, he could see her profile. Her face looked drawn and bleak, like a barren tree in the dead of winter.

  He shouldn’t have said that. He’d hurt her feelings when all he wanted to do was talk some sense into her. He was justified in his anger, after all.

  Noah started to breathe heavily as he tried to keep up with her. She moved extremely fast for a girl in a long coat and a dress. “If you don’t slow down, you’re going to keel over from exhaustion.”

  “If you’re worried about having to carry me home,” she snapped, “don’t be. I’d rather crawl on my hands and knees than let you touch me. I wouldn’t want to be any more of a nuisance than I already am.”

  “I’m just saying, it’s a long way home and—”

  She stuck her nose in the air. “If I die along the trail, just call the bishop and have him send a buggy. Leave Chester to watch over my body. You need not be bothered.”

  “Now you’re being silly.”

  “Leave me alone, Noah.”

  He stopped trying to reason with her and fell back a few paces. Chester fell back with him. The only sounds between them were the crunch of their footfalls on gravel and their shared labored breathing plus Chester’s panting. At least Chester was getting some good exercise.

  No communication at all was better than a quarrel. All he needed to do was see her safely home, and then he’d never have to speak to her again.

  That thought slammed into him, and he nearly tripped over his own feet. What was he thinking? He might be ferociously angry and acutely humiliated, but he might shrivel up like a grape in the sun if he wasn’t able to see Mandy again.

  In the two weeks since she’d shown up on his porch looking like a wet hen with an entire tail of ruffled feathers, his whole world had changed. He went to bed at night looking forward to waking up the next morning. He caught himself smiling when nobody was looking and dreaming up ways to make her laugh when she was near. He whistled at work and bristled at the sight of knitted pot holders.

  She had suddenly become very important to him. Essential, really. He couldn’t imagine doing without her.

  Even as angry as he was, he loathed the invisible wall of silence between them. He wanted to hear her voice more than any other sound in the world. He didn’t even care if she snapped at him. And what could he do to get her to flash one of her adorable, freckle-garnished smiles?

  His hopes went south when he glanced across the road. Her posture was stiff and unyielding, her face turned from him as if he didn’t exist.

  What if she never wanted to talk to him again?

  A lump of coal settled in the bottom of his gut.

  After about fifteen minutes, Mandy began to slacken her pace. Gute. She probably wouldn’t faint.

  Not that he would mind carrying her home, even if she had promised to crawl all the way. The last time she’d been comfortably tucked into his arms, she’d been soaking wet and hostile. He hadn’t truly appreciated the experience. He wouldn’t make that same mistake twice.

  She slowed to a stroll, and he noticed she limped slightly. Had she sprained her ankle?

  “You’re limping,” he said.

  She turned her head and looked at him as if she was surprised he was still following her. “I’m not limping.”

  “Did you hurt yourself?”

  She shook her head as if she were complete
ly fed up with him. “I have a pebble in my shoe.”

  “Why don’t you take it out?”

  “I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you by taking the time to do it. I know you’ve got more important things to do than babysit Mandy Helmuth.”

  “I can wait.” When she didn’t show any signs of stopping, he added, “You’ll get a blister.”

  They walked alongside a fenced pasture where a stile with wide steps cut over one of the fences. Mandy veered toward it. After shrugging out of her oversized coat, she sat on the second stile step and removed her shoe.

  Chester ducked under the fence and ran around the pasture, then ducked back out and ran a few paces down the road as if impatient to be going again.

  Mandy frowned at Noah when he came up beside her and then grimaced when she took off her shoe. Even through her black stockings, Noah could see the dark spot of blood at her heel. “Blister?” he asked.

  “Sharp pebble.”

  “Can you walk okay?”

  Her head was lowered so he couldn’t see her face and couldn’t tell how much pain she was in. She’d walked fast and hard. Who knew how long the pebble had been cutting into her skin.

  “I don’t mind carrying you, Mandy,” he said, knowing she wouldn’t give him satisfaction by saying yes.

  She turned her shoe upside down and dumped out, not one, but a handful of pebbles. “I . . . I’ll crawl.” She sniffled quietly.

  Was she crying?

  He nudged her chin up with his finger. Yep. A few tears etched meandering trails down her face. His gut clenched. He couldn’t stand to see her cry. “How bad does it hurt?”

  His touch seemed to break whatever dam held all those tears back. She dropped her shoe and scrunched her face into a frown. “Oh, Noah,” she said, disintegrating into a pitiful sob.

  Whatever anger he was still harboring melted like a marshmallow over a hot flame. How could he keep from softening into a gooey hunk of sugar when the tears glistened in her eyes as brilliantly as young leaves in the springtime? He squatted beside her and laid a hand over her arm. “It’s okay. Don’t cry. I promise to get you home.”

  She buried her face in her hands and wailed louder. “It’s not that.”