Huckleberry Harvest (The Matchmakers of Huckleberry Hill Book 5)

by Jennifer Beckstrand

  Barbara stood and propped her hands on her hips. “Well, he’s busy. My egg sorter’s got to be fixed.”

  Barbara was blunt like that, and she didn’t give an inch if she thought you didn’t deserve it. Maybe he wouldn’t be forced to explain himself to Anna and Felty after all. He said a quick prayer of thanks for Barbara Yutzy.

  “Of course it does,” Felty said. “But we come all this way. Could you spare fifteen minutes for ajar of applesauce?”

  Barbara wanted to say no. Obstinate annoyance was written all over her face. But the applesauce must have softened her up. Either that or she thought better of rubbing her neighbors the wrong way. Some of the lines around her mouth disappeared. “Okay, but make it quick. The eggs ain’t getting any younger.”

  Felty’s eyes twinkled as if he were about to burst into laughter. “I’d say those eggs are about as young as they can get.”

  Barbara didn’t laugh. She didn’t even crack a smile. “If you’re gonna go, go. Time’s a-wasting. And leave the applesauce on the table over there.”

  Anna pulled a jar of applesauce from the box and laid it on the table as directed. “There’s a lovely willow outside, Noah. Shall we sit under it?”

  Noah felt guilty as soon as he walked outside. The wind whipped through the trees, sending leaves tumbling to the ground like rain and making a fantastic racket. Yost would be having a terrible time getting the last of the shingles on.

  He’d cook an extra nice meal for dinner to make it up to him. Yost understood why Noah couldn’t return to Huckleberry Hill. He loved his brother and didn’t begrudge him the extra work.

  Noah still carried the box of applesauce. “I’ll put this in my wagon,” he said.

  He tromped to his wagon while Anna and Felty ambled to the giant willow that sat in the Yutzys’ front yard. With the wind blowing branches every which way, they wouldn’t be able to hear a thing under that tree. Gute. They didn’t need to hear what he really thought of their granddaughter.

  Noah laid the box of applesauce in the bed of his wagon and turned to see Felty and Anna pointing to a small toolshed behind the tree. “It’s too noisy,” Felty yelled over the din of the wind. “Let’s go to the shed.”

  Anna and Felty still weren’t going to hear what Noah really thought about Mandy. He’d keep his mouth shut, like he always did.

  First Anna and then Felty disappeared inside the shed. Noah came last, opening the door and letting it swing shut behind him. He gasped as he nearly plowed Anna over. The shed was almost pitch black with dim slits of light squeezing between a few loose slats. They stood in a small circle facing each other. With tools, shelves, and bags of feed lining the walls, there wasn’t much room for them to spread out.

  Felty held up a penlight and shined it at the ceiling in the center of their little circle. “It’s a little cramped in here,” he said.

  Anna clapped her hand over her mouth and giggled. “Barbara won’t know what became of us.”

  “That might buy us an extra five minutes,” Felty said.

  Taking a deep breath, Anna wiped the smile off her face. Even in the dim light, Noah could see her intense gaze. “Noah,” she said, “the Bible says that if my brother has aught against me that I need to go and be reconciled to that brother.”

  He held his breath, ready for a lecture. Mandy, who didn’t seem to know how to keep quiet about anything, must have told them how he’d yelled at her yesterday, and the Helmuths didn’t like how their granddaughter had been treated.

  He clenched his jaw. They were probably justified. He hadn’t been very nice. In his anger, he’d forgotten everything his mamm had taught him about how to treat a girl. She would be ashamed if she ever found out.

  But what did one more person matter? The shame already smothered him like a pile of dirt. What was one more stone on the heap?

  Anna rummaged through her big canvas bag, which she had managed to fit in the shed with them. Felty nearly fell backward into a stack of fertilizer bags when he tried to make room for Anna’s oversized purse.

  She pulled something from her bag and slipped it into his hand. He raised it to the light. It was a pot holder. “Noah, dear, I’m afraid I have offended you.”

  Noah stuttered as the honor of receiving a pot holder rendered him speechless. “I . . . I don’t understand. You think you’ve offended me?”

  “When Yost came to Huckleberry Hill this morning, I sensed right away that something was wrong. Noah Mischler would never walk away and leave a job undone unless he had a very gute reason.”

  Warmth pulsed through Noah’s veins, replacing the ice that had hardened his heart for the last twenty-four hours. Was that what people thought of him? That he always finished a job he’d committed to do? They knew about his fater, didn’t they? Why would they still hold a good opinion of Noah?

  Anna raised her eyebrows and nodded emphatically. “Felty pointed out, and very rightly so . . .”

  “Denki, Banannie,” Felty said.

  “You’re welcome, dear. Felty pointed out, very rightly so, that I have been handing out pot holders to complete strangers while ignoring you and all the gute work you’ve done on our house.” Anna was close enough to reach out and cup her hand over Noah’s cheek. “I never meant to make you feel unimportant.”

  Noah was quite dumbfounded. They weren’t going to scold him? “I . . . I don’t deserve this,” he finally managed to say.

  I made your granddaughter cry.

  “We really, really want you to have the pot holder,” Felty said, as if pot holders were as valuable as gold.

  Noah let out a breath he’d been holding for a long time. “Okay. Thank you. I’m very grateful.”

  “And you forgive me?” Anna said.

  “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  Anna clicked her tongue. “Tsk, tsk. What a sweet boy you are.” She zipped her canvas bag shut. “And now, much as I’d enjoy spending the rest of the morning in this shed with you, I did promise Barbara I would help sort eggs until her machine is fixed. I wouldn’t want to disappoint Barbara.” She lowered her voice. “Much as I love her, she can be a might testy yet.” Anna nudged her way around Noah and out the shed door. “Come on, Noah. The sooner you get back to work, the sooner Barbara will get her machine back. I’d rather not wash chicken poop off the eggs by hand. It will ruin my appetite.”

  Noah and Felty followed Anna out of the shed. The wind blew as loud as ever, but Noah welcomed the fresh air and the wide-open space.

  Anna walked ahead of them as Felty clapped a hand on Noah’s shoulder. “So, you’ve got your pot holder. You never said if you’d come back.”

  Noah turned his face away. He’d hoped in all the kerfuffle about pot holders and applesauce and chicken poop that Felty would forget about the roof. Even though Anna had sacrificed one of her precious pot holders for him, he couldn’t come back. Felty would never understand why.

  “Yost’s a fast worker.”

  Felty stroked his beard. “I’m not worried about the roof. Yost is working hard, and now that Mandy’s helping him, they won’t be working past Friday.”

  Noah coughed as if a bug had flown into his mouth. “Mandy?”

  “She got on the roof and started hammering away this morning.”

  Noah felt the anger build inside him. “She shouldn’t be up there. It’s too dangerous.”

  “I don’t wonder but she’ll be okay. She’s not one to take risks, and she has the Helmuth sense of balance.”

  Not one to take risks? Noah recalled having to pull her out of a river once. “She still shouldn’t be up there.” He clenched his teeth together. Someday he’d wear them down to nubs. Had she gone up there just to irritate him? Or to compel him to come back?

  His teeth screeched as they ground against each other. The thought of Mandy lying in a heap on the ground buried under a pile of shingles made him want to jump in his wagon and ride as fast as the wind to Huckleberry Hill.

  He shook his head. He’d never le
t Mandy dictate what he did and didn’t do with his life. If she thought putting herself in danger would force him to come back, she was greatly mistaken.

  If she fell, it would be by her own choice.

  He ignored the fact that he felt as agitated as a swarm of bees. Any more of this jaw clamping and he’d give himself a headache.

  “Are you hungry?” Felty asked.

  “What?”

  “Are you hungry?”

  “I guess.” Noah motioned toward his wagon. “But I brought a lunch.”

  Noah followed Felty to his wagon, where Felty reached into the applesauce box and pulled out one of Noah’s five remaining jars. Felty unscrewed the ring, popped off the lid with his fingernails, and took a swig of applesauce like it was a glass of water. “Annie’s applesauce is nice and runny. I always drink it instead of eating it with a spoon. It saves time.”

  He handed the jar to Noah who, after only a second’s hesitation, took a drink and found the applesauce pleasantly sweet and decidedly lumpy. Not quite as smooth as water but tasty enough.

  Felty took out a handkerchief and wiped his mouth. “Do you know the Kaufmanns?”

  “Mose and Beverly? Jah. Mose is one of the ministers in the other district.”

  “Did you know their son died in a car accident last year because he was driving drunk?”

  “Everybody knows it. I went to the funeral. They had a benefit supper for his widow and children.”

  “How do you think Mose felt when it happened?”

  Noah shrugged. “I’m sure he grieved like any fater would grieve for a son.”

  Felty nodded sadly. “After that, did you keep your distance from Mose and his family?”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “What his son did was shameful, a humiliation to the family. Don’t you think his family should have hung their heads in shame for what their son did?”

  “Nae,” Noah said. “They are members of the community. They have nothing to be ashamed of.”

  Felty took another drink of applesauce. “But do you think less of them for raising such a son?”

  Noah blew out a puff of air as he realized where Felty was headed with his questions. “I don’t think less of anybody.”

  “Amos Bieler’s daughter ran off with an Englischer. Matthew Zook used drugs. What about their families? Should they be shunned?”

  The ever-present shame overwhelmed him. He wished he’d never met Mandy Helmuth. Noah sank to the ground and sat with his back propped against the wagon wheel. “How much did she tell you?”

  “Who? Anna?”

  “Mandy. What did she tell you about my dat?”

  Felty grunted and slowly sank to the ground. “A middle-aged man should not sit on the ground like this. I might not be able to get up.” He scooted next to Noah against the wagon wheel. “Now, you were saying something about Mandy.”

  Noah didn’t want to talk about it. He already knew the answer. “It wonders me what she told you about my dat.”

  “Mandy hasn’t told me anything about your dat.”

  “Oh,” Noah said. “I thought she would have told you everything.”

  Felty laid a hand on Noah’s knee. “Noah, I see your dat every Monday, so I suppose I know better than most what is going on, but it don’t take a fool to see that your dat is struggling. It wasn’t a secret the reason your mamm left him. The Plain people are the biggest gossips in the world. News spreads faster than dandelions on the wind.”

  Noah tightened the muscles of his jaw. “I know.”

  “When your mamm left, she asked the whole district to watch out for you. But you haven’t wanted any watching out for.”

  Noah traced his finger in the dirt at his feet. “I had hoped everyone would forget about our troubles or think that things aren’t so bad anymore. Most people have forgotten. If they hadn’t, they wouldn’t hire me to do jobs for them or treat me like I’m one of them.”

  “You are one of us.”

  “Not anymore. I’m not worthy to be one of you. My shame follows me like a bad smell.”

  The line between Felty’s brows deepened into a furrow. “Noah, it’s not your shame.”

  “Yes, it is. If I were a better son, my dat would stop drinking. If I were a better son, my mamm wouldn’t have left. Noah Mischler can’t cast the beam out of his own eye.”

  Felty folded his arms and shook his head. “Jesus chose all twelve of his apostles. Shouldn’t he have been more careful about choosing his friends? Is it his fault that Judas betrayed him?”

  “Of course not. It was Judas’s own evil choice.”

  “It is not your fault that your fater drinks.”

  The hole in his heart widened until he could have parked a buggy in it. He bowed his head and rubbed his eyes so the tears wouldn’t start. “After little Edi died, he came home with five bottles of whiskey. He went through the first four in a matter of days. Mamm hid the last one. When he ran out of liquor, he lay in bed sobbing. The whiskey seemed to calm him down, so I found the hidden bottle and gave it to him. I wanted the wailing to stop, but I did a horrible thing.”

  Felty nudged Noah with his elbow. “Noah, one bottle of whiskey didn’t start your dat down that road. You were how old? Fifteen? Sixteen? You showed your dat some compassion in the only way you knew how.”

  “I lost Mamm because of it.”

  “How long are you going to punish yourself for the sins of your father? Your dat drove your mamm away, not you. You have been a gute son to him. There is no shame in that.”

  Noah took a deep breath, hoping it would ease the pain in his chest. It didn’t. “I have tried to do everything right so people would forget about my dat. I think it was working. But now because of Mandy, everybody knows the worst.”

  Felty raised his finger in the air. “Now we come to it.”

  “To what?”

  “The reason you’re pushing Mandy away from you. She knows too much about you, and you’re ashamed that she knows.”

  Noah turned away from Felty’s perceptive gaze. “What I think about Mandy doesn’t really matter. She’ll be gone in a week.”

  “And you’re not happy about it, no matter what you want to tell yourself.”

  “I’m more than happy to see her go.” His heart flopped over in his chest. How could he convince Felty if he didn’t really believe it himself? “Before Mandy came to town, nobody knew about the bars and the black eyes. My business was my business. Now I’ll be the boy people talk about behind their hands at gatherings. People will think less of me because my fater has sunk so low.”

  Felty inclined his head. “Maybe they will. One thing’s for sure. You’re so afraid of the humiliation that you pretend there isn’t a problem, and everybody pretends right along with you. This isn’t Mandy’s fault. You think you’re gute at hiding the truth, when really, everybody knows about your dat. They just pretend not to know because talking about your dat makes you upset. But, Noah, the very people you are trying to hide from are the very people who could help you if you let them.”

  Bitterness filled his mouth. Shame threatened to engulf him like a dead tree in a raging forest fire. “I don’t need anybody’s help.”

  “Now you’re being stubborn for the sake of being stubborn.”

  Fine. He’d hold on to his dignity any way he could. Mandy would never humiliate him again. That was all he cared.

  “Ask God. He will show you the way if you let Him. Maybe He’ll show you the way back to Mandy.”

  Anna stuck her head out of the door of the warehouse. “Noah, there you are.” She tiptoed out the door and closed it behind her. “Remember that thing about chicken poop? It’s getting bad in there. Would you mind taking a look at this egg sorter? I’m afraid it’s an emergency.”

  Noah jumped to his feet even though he felt as heavy as a whole truck full of chicken poop. He didn’t want to talk to Felty any more. He wanted to finish his work, go home, and be left alone.

  He was halfway to the warehous
e when Felty called him back. “I know you’re irritated with me,” he said, “but if you don’t lend a hand, I’ll never rise from the ground again.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Chester wagged his tail so hard he fanned up a breeze. His enthusiastic greeting usually put Noah in a good mood, no matter how bad a day it had been, but he didn’t think he’d be in a good mood ever again. “Hey, boy,” Noah said, patting his dog on the head and hanging his jacket on the hook in the hall.

  Shadows from the floor lamps danced on the walls as Noah stuck his head into the kitchen. Yost stood at the stove tending to something in their frying pan. He glanced at Noah. “It’s fried chicken.”

  “You know how to make fried chicken?”

  “There’s chow chow, corn, and yams with brown sugar. It’s almost ready.”

  Noah cocked an eyebrow. “You know how to make fried chicken?”

  “I didn’t make it.”

  “Kentucky Fried?”

  Yost gave Noah a smug glance. “Nae, homemade. But I promised the cook that I would keep it a secret because she said you wouldn’t want to eat it if you knew who cooked it.”

  Noah wanted to scowl. He opted for a disinterested frown. She just couldn’t resist interfering in his life, could she? “She’s right,” he said.

  Yost grimaced. “You’re not going to refuse the only decent meal we’ve had since I got here?”

  “I said I didn’t want to eat it. I didn’t say I wouldn’t eat it.” The heavenly aroma made his mouth water. He’d be a fool to send it back where it came from, even if he didn’t appreciate Mandy’s interfering. “Why did she send it over? Does she think we don’t know how to feed ourselves?”

  “Yep, that’s exactly what she thinks. I told her the sad story of everything I’ve eaten since I’ve been here. I think she was concerned I would die of starvation.”

  “That’s Mandy. She thinks she has a right to help people even if they don’t need it.”

  Yost eyed him as if he were crazy. “We need it. In case you haven’t noticed, the only thing in the fridge is a half a gallon of milk, a bottle of horseradish, and a jar of pickles. She made dinner for her grandparents and for some boy. She said it was not trouble to make dinner for us.”