Huckleberry Harvest (The Matchmakers of Huckleberry Hill Book 5)

by Jennifer Beckstrand

  He clenched his jaw. “I don’t want you to go.”

  “I’ve done nothing but bring you trouble. You told me so yourself.” Ach, du lieva. She couldn’t keep the bitterness from her voice.

  He closed his eyes and grimaced, as if her words had slapped him in the face. “Mandy, I made some assumptions I shouldn’t have. Kristina told me she knew about that night at the bar. I thought you had broken your promise and told her about it. Just like you told her about our kissing.”

  A dull throbbing started behind her eyes. “You must think very badly of me to believe I would break a promise like that.”

  “Nae. I was devastated to think that you, of all people, would do that. It hurt so bad because of how I feel about you.”

  “How you feel about me,” she repeated, her voice quivering. He didn’t love her, and she would be a fool to let herself believe that he did.

  “Can you blame me for jumping to conclusions? Ever since I met you, I’ve been acutely aware of the shame I bear because of my dat. What Kristina told me was just one more shovelful of dirt on my head. I wasn’t thinking clearly. You told her about the kiss. It wasn’t much of a leap to believe you told her about the night at the bar.”

  “So it is my fault once again.”

  “That’s not what I mean. I get defensive when it comes to my dat. It’s not your fault.” He took three steps closer and reached out his free hand to her. She ignored it. The look on his face was pure agony. “Mandy,” he said, in a whisper barely audible above the sound of the rain falling outside. “Mandy, please forgive me. That day, the things I said, I pushed you away. Please forgive me. I love you.”

  There they were. The words she would have given anything to hear a few days ago. She didn’t believe them, but the knowledge that he believed made it harder to do what she knew she had to do.

  Mandy pursed her lips to keep the memory of his kisses from making her lips tingle. “Yost told me about the hospital,” she said.

  Noah shoved his fingers through his damp hair. “I told him not to say anything. We agreed it would be better for Dat.”

  “How is he feeling?”

  “He’s fine. We’d be fine, if . . .”

  “If people would just leave you alone.”

  Understanding flashed on his face, and his gaze pierced hers. “I don’t mean that,” he murmured.

  “Yost didn’t blab your dat’s troubles to the community, if that’s what you’re worried about. He thought that since I am close to your family, I might want to know.” She exhaled a deep breath and stifled the sob that wanted to come with it. “But he doesn’t know that I’m not close to the family. You won’t let me get within a mile of your problems. You’re so afraid of being hurt and embarrassed that you’ve built a very thick wall around yourself and won’t let anyone in, even the girl you claim to love.”

  “I do love you, Mandy. It’s just that I don’t want you to suffer too.”

  “Nae. It’s that you don’t want to compile your shame. Not even for me.” He started to protest, and she turned her face from him. “Yost told me some wonderful things about your mamm. She is an amazing quilter. Her quilts sell for hundreds of dollars. And she loves flowers.”

  “I know.”

  “She planted a half acre of roses when she lived here. Pink are her favorite. She once sewed your dat a whole new shirt in two hours, and she can quote passages of scripture from memory. She must be an wonderful-gute mamm.”

  Noah slumped his shoulders. “She is.”

  “But you kept her from me. You’re so ashamed, you didn’t want me to know anything. Not even that your dat used to take you and Yost ice fishing, or that he never failed to tell your mamm and Lisa they were beautiful every day for as long as you can remember.”

  Noah gazed at her resentfully. “Talking about it won’t make my dat the man he used to be.”

  “But it would make you vulnerable. You close yourself off to me because you would do anything to avoid looking weak or pitiful. Talking to Yost made me realize something. You made me feel guilty for wanting to be a part of your life. For caring.” The tears couldn’t be stopped now. “Maybe I am too nosy, but maybe I wanted to share your life. Maybe I pushed harder because I wanted you to let me in. But I can’t get in. You’ve locked that door and thrown away the key.”

  “If I show you who I really am, you’ll stomp all over my heart.”

  She felt as if she’d been slammed against a wall. He was so wrapped up in himself that he refused to give her the gift of his trust. He loved his safe, private misery more than he would ever love her. “Maybe you’re right. Nothing is worth the risk of getting your heart stomped.”

  He held out his hands to her, pleading with his eyes, his face, his whole body. “Mandy, please, you don’t understand.”

  If she lingered any longer, she’d melt into a quivering mass of tears and sobs. “I’m sorry, Noah. I want someone who’ll give me his whole heart, not just the safe, convenient part of if. I deserve to be loved that way.”

  Clutching his bag of food to her chest, she bolted out of the barn, leaving her umbrella and her heart behind. Soon her weeping would become uncontrollable. Better to do that in the privacy of her own bedroom. She ran through the torrential rain, made it into the house, and shut herself in her room. Sniffling back the tears, she opened Noah’s carefully wrapped tinfoil package to find six warm, brown circles. Furrowing her brow, she picked one up and took a bite.

  Fried pickles.

  Delicious.

  He hadn’t had the time, or probably the money, to go to the store, so he’d used his imagination with what he had on hand. She’d definitely miss Noah’s creative food. And his solid arms and honey-colored hair. And the smile that could charm the wings off the bumblebees and make her heart leap out of her chest. She’d be very sorry to never see a smile like that again.

  The tears came like a cloudburst. She collapsed across her bed, wet clothes and all, and cried herself into numbness.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Noah couldn’t remember how he got home. Maybe the horse knew the way and, eager to be out of the rain, had trotted home without any direction from Noah. It didn’t matter that he’d taken the enclosed buggy; just walking from the buggy to Felty’s barn and back again had been enough to soak Noah clear through. He drove down the back lane and unhitched the buggy in the relentless rain, then coaxed the horse to the shelter that did duty as a barn. The wooden structure was more like a shed, but it kept the rain and snow off his two horses and provided shade in the summer and a little warmth in the winter.

  Someday he’d have enough money to build a proper barn, with a space for the horses and maybe a cow, plus all his tools. He’d start a business from that barn, and people would come to him when they wanted something fixed. Someday. When his dat stopped drinking and there were funds in his empty savings account.

  Noah trudged out of the shed and stood gazing out at the road, letting the icy rain pelt his back and shoulders. Mamm would scold him, tell him to get inside before he caught his death of cold. Mandy would have ushered him into the house and brewed him a steaming mug of chamomile tea to ward off infection or made him a mustard plaster and insisted he wear it for three days. She was bossy like that, always thinking she knew what was best for him.

  He loved that about her.

  Well, it was better this way. Wasn’t it? He had lost Mandy, but with her gone, he’d be able to retreat back into his private life, never living in fear that his secrets would be found out, never having to face the debilitating shame that followed him like a shadow.

  It was good she was out of his life. She wanted a part of him that no one was ever going to get.

  He swiped his hand down the side of his face and shook his head to banish Mandy from his mind. When he thought about her, the dull ache in his chest would flare into bitter, raw pain. He could only take so much.

  Cold and weary, inside and out, he bowed his head and tried to remember what it felt like t
o be happy, what it felt like to breathe without the weight of the world pressing on his chest. He’d lost Mandy, and much as he wanted to deny it, he knew he’d never breathe properly again.

  A light glowed inside the house. Dat was awake. He should be. It was almost dinnertime.

  Noah wanted to walk into that house less than he wanted just about anything. He hated seeing his dat so broken, hated the burden of giving his dat all of himself until Noah Mischler had nearly ceased to exist. Hated to be reminded of what he had lost.

  He slogged around to the front and opened the door. The smell of batter, deep-fat fried, accosted him. He’d made Mandy fried pickles. There wasn’t a thing left in the fridge. Noah pulled off his soggy boots just inside the door. He’d change into dry clothes before fixing dinner.

  Dat sat at the table with a beer can in his hand. How had he gotten that? He didn’t look particularly drunk, but he was brooding. Tears trickled from his red-rimmed eyes.

  “What going on, Dat?” Noah asked, moving slowly into the kitchen as if he were tiptoeing around a sleeping bear.

  “Yost left me a note. He’s gone.”

  “That’s right. He could only stay for a week. He left this morning.”

  Noah jumped as Dat brought his fist down hard on the table, making the beer can bobble as if it would tip over. “What did you say to him?”

  Dread pulsed through his veins. “About what, Dat?”

  Dat sprang to his feet, sending his chair crashing to the floor behind him. He snatched a wadded piece of paper from the table and held it up like a torch. “He told me he’d only come back if I stopped drinking. He told me to be a man, as if I’m not his fater. As if I’m not the man who brought him into this world.”

  Noah had never seen Dat this angry without being staggeringly drunk. Dat, usually so meek and contrite, seemed to grow claws and fangs as he stood there, scowling at Noah with hatred flashing in his eyes.

  “You are his fater. And he loves you.”

  Dat scowled and hurled his wadded note at Noah. It rolled near his feet. “What did you tell him?”

  “Nothing, Dat. Let me fix you something to eat.” He didn’t mention that there was nothing in the fridge.

  In one swift movement, Dat charged at him and slammed him backward against the front door. Noah grunted in pain as his head hit the wood with stunning force. “What did you say to him?”

  Breathless and dizzy, Noah tried to focus as his dat pinned him against the door with his big hands. Noah was stronger. He could have laid his dat flat with a hard fist to the chin, but he had never hit anyone before, not even his dat when he was in a drunken rage. He was a Christian, and Jesus said to turn the other cheek. Jesus said, “Blessed are the peacemakers.” What good was a vow of nonviolence if he didn’t keep it?

  “You drove Yost away,” Dat yelled. “Just like you drove away your mother.” Before Noah could dodge it, Dat drew back his hand and punched Noah in the face.

  Pain exploded inside his head, and he could taste the salty blood that seemed to fill his mouth. He held his breath as bits of light flashed in front of his eyes.

  “She’s gone, Noah. She’s gone.” Dat swung his fist again but with less force this time.

  Heartbroken and reeling, Noah grabbed his dat’s wrists and held him back with an iron grip. His dat had never struck out at him when he was sober. “Please don’t hurt me, Dat. I’m your son. I love you.”

  Dat seemed snap out of whatever violent mood had taken control of him. Taking two steps back, he looked at his hands as if they were foreign objects he’d never seen before.

  “This isn’t who you are,” Noah said breathlessly. “This isn’t who you are.”

  With horror written all over his face, Dat stumbled backward and managed to find a chair. He sat, buried his face in his hands, and began to weep. “I’m sorry, Noah,” he sobbed. “I’m so sorry.”

  With an ache in his chest as wide as the sky, Noah found a dish towel to mop up the blood dripping from his mouth. He sat down next to his dat and gently massaged his jaw. Lord willing, nothing was broken even though it hurt something wonderful. Where was Mandy when he needed a cold potato?

  They sat in silence until, after a few minutes, Dat cried himself out and the dish towel was stained with blood. Dat lifted his head, and his frown deepened as he examined Noah’s face. “I’ll get you some ice.” He found a tray of ice in the freezer, dumped some of it into another dish towel, and handed it to Noah. “That one girl cut you some potato, but we’re out. Whatever happened to her anyway? We never see her anymore.”

  Noah cleared his throat. “She’s leaving for Ohio next week.”

  Dat sat down. “Just like your mamm left me.” He waved his hand as if he were swatting a fly. “You and I, we don’t need them. We’re doing just fine the way we are. We don’t need any of them.”

  That sounded like something Noah often told himself. “Nae, we don’t,” Noah murmured, placing the ice-cold towel on his face as he involuntarily tensed. Every muscle, every sinew, every tendon in his body told him it was a lie.

  He closed his eyes and pleaded silently with God. Heavenly Father, I’m stubborn and frightened and proud. My pride has kept Your grace from finding place in my heart. I’ll do anything You require of me, but please, give me the courage I need to travel the road. I need You. Please, show me the way.

  Dat took another swig of beer. “If Rosie won’t do what God wants her to do and come home, then we don’t need her.”

  Noah lowered his eyes. It wasn’t Mamm who was resisting God’s will. God had given Dat plenty of chances. He simply refused to take them.

  Noah caught his breath. Was he so shortsighted that he could see Dat’s stiff-neckedness and not his own? God had already shown him the path and given him a nudge, but he had been too much of a coward to take the first steps.

  How could he doubt that God had sent Mandy into his life? How likely was it that a girl from Charm and a boy from Bonduel would meet by coincidence? And yet, he’d squandered the gift. So afraid to let anybody into his heart, he’d held back, and she had sensed it. His fear of being humiliated had paralyzed him, and he’d lost Mandy because of it.

  A girl like Mandy, with so much love to give, wouldn’t be content with just a piece of him. She deserved his whole heart, his whole life, even the parts he kept carefully hidden. She deserved his unconditional faith. If he loved her, then he would entrust the deepest parts of his heart to her, even though it would give her the power to crush him.

  He hadn’t believed in the goodness of her heart or the power of her love. No wonder she had rejected him.

  Noah gazed around the room. His dat sat at the table clutching a can of beer, the cupboards were bare, the fridge was empty, and he cradled a blood-soaked dish towel in his hand. His jaw throbbed painfully, and his heart ached as if he’d been impaled by a nail gun.

  He didn’t want to live like this anymore. No matter the consequences, he wanted Mandy. He needed Mandy.

  Heavenly Father, I’m ready to open my heart.

  He pressed against the gaping hole in his chest. Even though he had burned all his bridges with Mandy, he was strong. He would swim the divide between them. He would find the courage to win her.

  No matter how terrified he was.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Mandy slumped in her chair, exhausted from trying to pretend that she was having fun at her own party. Truth be told, she wanted to shut herself in her room and wait for Peggy to take her to the bus station. She’d already packed her small suitcase. It sat expectantly on her bed with her coat and black bonnet, ready for the trip back to Charm tomorrow. The bus left at 11:10 in the morning. She wished she was already home.

  The great room teemed with bodies. Mammi had ended up inviting twenty-two young people to the party. She had originally invited sixteen boys and no girls, plus Mandy’s cousin Titus, who didn’t count as a prospective husband. Mandy had talked Mammi into inviting at least a few other girls. “I can’t marr
y all of them, Mammi, and the boys will get bored with only one girl to flirt with.”

  To Mandy’s great relief, Mammi had agreed, albeit reluctantly, to pick out a few girls to attend Mandy’s going-away party. She’d invited Kristina, Dori Rose, and the three Sensenig sisters. Katie Sensenig was well into her thirties, but Mammi couldn’t be talked into inviting a wider selection of girls. She wanted to be sure that Mandy got her first pick of the boys, no matter what.

  No matter that she’d met them all before and wasn’t interested in a single one. No matter that the boy she wanted wasn’t even at the party. He didn’t dare go to parties. Too many people asked too many questions he didn’t like to answer.

  Mandy chastised herself for letting Noah Mischler creep into her thoughts when she still needed to muster a few smiles before the party ended.

  The ending couldn’t come soon enough.

  Kristina sat next to Mandy, energetically punching buttons on her phone. Periodically, she would giggle hysterically and steal a glance at Davy Burkholder, who sat across the room on the sofa texting her back. Why they couldn’t have a conversation like normal people was beyond Mandy’s ability to comprehend. Still, they seemed to be enjoying themselves immensely. Who was Mandy to judge? It wondered her what would become of their relationship when one of them got baptized and was forced to give up the cell phone. Would they get bored with each other? Would they have anything to say face-to-face?

  Mandy and the rest of die youngie were playing a wild and perilous game called Do You Like Your Neighbor. Dawdi had pulled out all the folding chairs they owned, plus all the chairs from around the table for the game. Everyone sat in a circle in the great room while one person stood in the center of the group.

  Freeman Kiem happened to be in the center at the moment. He approached Arie Sensenig and asked, “Do you like your neighbor?”

  Arie grinned as her eyes darted around the room. “Nae,” she said, putting the rest of the players on alert.

  “Whose neighbors do you like?” Freeman asked.