by Beth Wiseman
The rain had cooled things off a little, but now he just felt clammy. Matt headed upstairs, dried off, and put on fresh clothes. He bumped into his older sister on the way back down the stairs, and she ran past him like the house was on fire.
“What are you in such a hurry for?”
Marie didn’t even turn around. “None of your business!”
Matt shrugged and started back down the stairs again. The only boy among six sisters, he was used to being the odd man out. None of them ever shared much with him. Which was okay, since all they ever talked about was who they were dating, when they hoped to get married, and a whole bunch of other girly stuff that didn’t interest him in the least.
He walked into the kitchen and picked an apple from the fruit bowl. Saturday afternoon, and saved by the rain. He hadn’t been looking forward to spending the day painting the fence. He didn’t mind hard work, and he loved being outside, but painting was his least favorite thing to do.
“Where is everyone?” he asked his mother. “I saw Marie running up the stairs, but other than that it sure is quiet around here.”
Mamm wiped her hands on a kitchen towel, then leaned against the counter and faced him. “As I said, I don’t know where your father disappeared to, but the rest of the girls went to the mud sale.” She shook her head. “Miserable weather to be at a mud sale.”
“What’s wrong with Marie? She looked mad.”
Mamm sighed as she shook her head. “She and John had words, I think. She’s not saying much about it, though.”
Matt finished off the apple and tossed the core in the trash can. “I’m sure it’s something to do with the wedding.”
“Ya, probably so. Marie has been planning her dream wedding since she was a little girl, and I don’t think John shares her enthusiasm about the details.”
“Every wedding I’ve been to looks the same.” Matt poured himself a glass of iced tea, chugged it down, then used a paper towel to dab at the sweat on his forehead. “I don’t see what there is to have words about.”
Mamm sat down at the kitchen table. “Every bride wants things to go perfectly on their special day.”
“Well, she’s got three months to get it all together.” Matt poured himself a little more iced tea.
“October will be here before you know it.” Mamm pulled a piece of paper and pen from her apron pocket. “Danki for getting the whoopee pies.” She scratched it off her list. “Guess I better get started on lunch for Claire. She only comes through town about once a year.”
Mamm stood up and pulled two lunch pails from the refrigerator. “Except for Marie, the other girls are eating at the mud sale, and Daed said you two would eat on the park bench on the other side of the garden.” She handed Matt the two lunch pails. “Not sure what his plan is now, but here are your sandwiches. Chicken salad, a peach, and those awful chips your father likes.”
“Have fun with your friend.” Matt grinned as he left the room and walked onto the porch. He liked the extra spicy chips his father often requested. He watched the rain come down and wondered briefly where his father might be, but his head was filled with thoughts of Becky Byler.
Chapter Three
Two weeks after that day on the creek bank, when she’d prayed to God for help, Becky went with Elam to the pizza place off of Lincoln Highway. There wasn’t anything she liked more than pizza, so this was a true test of her will power. Becky slid into the booth across from Elam—the same booth they’d been sitting at for years.
“I got the same one we always get. Large with everything but onions and mushrooms.”
Becky had skipped breakfast this morning, and she’d only had some fruit for lunch. Pizza sounded good, and she didn’t want to hurt Elam’s feelings by not eating any. Normally she’d eat four or five slices, about half the pizza. This time she chose the smallest wedge.
Twenty minutes later Elam had polished off half the pizza, and Becky was still working on her first piece.
“I know that’s not all you’re going to eat,” he said with his mouth half full. He pushed his glasses up on his nose.
Becky nodded. “Ya. This is all I want.”
Elam swallowed his food, then frowned. “Are you sick?”
“Nee. Just not hungry.”
It wasn’t the truth. Not the whole truth, anyway, if the growling of her stomach was any indication. But her desires had changed. She was determined not to make a pig of herself as she had in the past.
Elam stared at her for as long as he was able, before his eyes drifted in opposite directions. Then he shrugged and started in on her half.
Becky had never held back eating in front of Elam. He had certainly seen her eat a lot over the years. And that was just what he saw. Not even her own family knew about her late-night visits to the refrigerator.
When the waitress brought the bill, Elam quickly snatched it up.
Becky tried to yank it from his hand. “It’s my turn to pay,”
“Nee. You didn’t even eat anything.”
Becky looked down at the pizza crust she’d left. She wasn’t even tempted to finish it. “It’s still my turn.”
“I’m not having my date pay for supper.”
Date? Becky and Elam usually went once a week to eat somewhere, and they had always split the bill or taken turns.
They walked outside into the afternoon sun, and Becky immediately started to sweat. Summer wasn’t giving them any break as August drew near. The heat and humidity were awful.
She waited until they were on the road before she broached a subject she’d been thinking about. “Matt King asked me if I was going to the singing this weekend.” She watched for Elam’s reaction. If there was more going on in his head than friendship, she was going to need to nip that. “He offered to take me.”
Elam pulled back on the reins and slowed the horse to a steady trot. A muscle flicked in his jaw. “What?”
“I know.” Becky laughed. “I’m sure it was a dare, a joke . . .” She shrugged. “Something.”
“Why do you say that?” Elam kept glancing back and forth between Becky and the road ahead. He always said he could see well enough to drive the buggy, but sometimes he made her nervous.
Becky grunted. “Why else would someone like Matt King ask me out?” She shrugged again, as if it didn’t matter. “He can have anyone he wants.”
Elam’s stomach churned as he thought about how to respond. He didn’t want to say anything that might encourage Becky to go out with Matt, but he didn’t want to hurt her feelings either. It wasn’t surprising that Matt saw what Elam saw in Becky. Becky had no idea what a wonderful and beautiful person she was, inside and out.
Elam had always known that she didn’t have any self-confidence. And although part of him wanted to build up her self-esteem, most of the time he did little to make her feel better about herself. It was selfish, he knew. But he enjoyed their friendship, and he wanted more. What he didn’t want was somebody like Matt swooping in to take her away from him.
“I’m sure it wasn’t a joke or a dare,” he finally said. “But I thought he was going out with Mary Stoltzfus.”
“I did too.” Becky shrugged. “I don’t know why I even mentioned it. It was just weird.”
They were quiet for a while, but Elam couldn’t let it go. “Did you want to go to the singing with Matt?”
“He didn’t exactly ask me if I wanted to go. He just said that if I was going, then he was going to ask to take me.” She turned to face him.
Elam took a deep breath. “But . . . I mean, did you want to go?” He slowed the buggy as he pulled into Becky’s driveway. She opened the door on her side, stood up, and turned to face him.
“Danki for supper.” She smiled. “You should have let me pay, though.” She gave a quick wave, then walked into the house, leaving him without an answer.
Matt and his father quit working in the fields early. It was starting to sprinkle. They were dog tired and hungry. But as they neared the house, Matt counted
the buggies pulled up outside. Six.
“What’s going on?”
Lucas King stopped abruptly and slammed a hand to his forehead. “Ach, I forgot. Your mamm and all your sisters are having a gathering this afternoon to talk about Marie’s wedding.” Daed shook his head. “This wasn’t the best day to take off early.”
His father let out a heavy sigh and started walking again. Matt followed, knowing he would have to be polite, but hoping he could hurry upstairs and get an early bath before supper. They could hear the chatter long before they hit the front porch.
Matt and his father stopped right inside the front door. Mamm sat on the couch next to Marie, and the mother of the groom, Esther Zook, was on the other side of Marie. The rest of his sisters were scattered around, some sitting on the floor. Matt followed his father’s lead by saying hello and nodding in every direction. Rosa Hostetler was there, along with Hope Bowman and her little one, Faith.
Then his eyes landed on Becky Byler, and no one else in the room existed. What was it about her? Why was she so compelling to him? She was the only girl in the district who never seemed interested in him.
He was still standing there gaping at her when his father tapped him on the shoulder. “Let’s leave the ladies be.”
Matt tipped his hat. “Nice to see you all.”
The chatter started right back up once Matt hit the stairs, but he turned once to get another quick look at Becky. She was staring right at him. He grinned at her and dashed up the stairs.
In record time, he was clean and dressed in fresh clothes. He rushed back downstairs, hoping Becky was still there. The crowd seemed to have thinned out. Hope Bowman and the baby were gone, and some of his sisters had left the room. To start supper, he hoped. Matt’s stomach was rumbling.
His adrenaline spiked when he saw Becky sitting in the same chair as before. He wished there was a way for him to talk to her alone. She seemed to avoid him at every turn.
Rosa stood up. “Becky, I can take you home since your mamm had to leave early.”
Becky stood up, and Matt took a few steps toward her. “I can take Becky home, Rosa. It’s not really on your way.”
“Nee, I don’t mind,” Rosa said.
Matt tried to lock eyes with Becky, but she wouldn’t look at him. “I have to go out anyway. I—I need to go to the store, and it’s right on the way to Becky’s haus. I can take her home.”
Rosa’s eyes twinkled. “Well, all right, Matt. Then you can take Becky home.”
Matt looked at Becky. Her eyes darted around frantically, making her look like a snared animal desperate for escape. Matt hoped he was doing the right thing. Maybe she just didn’t want anything to do with him.
Either way he was going to need to stop at the store so he wasn’t caught in a lie. Surely there is something I need.
Becky climbed into Matt’s buggy and fluffed her dress so it didn’t cling to her big belly. She tried sucking in her stomach, but that didn’t help.
“This really isn’t necessary. Rosa could have taken me home.” She tensed every muscle trying to make herself smaller. But it didn’t work. She took up so much of the seat that she was almost touching Matt’s leg.
“I don’t mind.” He paused, clicking his tongue to move the horse into action. “Poor ol’ Buttercup hasn’t been out in a couple of days anyway.”
“She’s a beautiful animal.” Becky could feel the heat in her cheeks. She didn’t dare look at him.
“Can I ask you something?”
Becky swallowed hard. “Okay.”
“You always smell gut.” He chuckled, turning to face her. “I know that’s a weird thing to say, but you do. Is it some special soap or lotion?”
Becky ducked her head and smiled. “It’s goat’s milk soap, but we add a fragrance oil that’s a mixture of rosemary and lavender.”
“Well, it sure smells gut.”
“Danki. Mamm and Lena and I use it, but Daed says it smells too feminine, so Mamm makes a different kind for him and Ruben. She puts a tiny bit of honey in theirs.”
Becky knew her mother’s recipe for soap was special. This wasn’t the first time someone had told her she smelled good, but it was the first time the comment had come from a man. “Mamm’s recipe came from her mammi. The milk comes from my goats.”
“We don’t have any goats. Mamm makes soap using goat’s milk too, but she buys the goat milk either in cans or from other farmers.” He narrowed his brow. “But mei mamm and sisters must not make it the same way.”
“Secret recipe.” Becky smiled. “I love goats. We have Boer goats. We’re up to twenty-six now, and I have names for all of them.”
Matt laughed. “Really?”
“Ya. Each one is special. Daed was going to take some to auction, but I cried until he finally gave in and said he wouldn’t.”
She was babbling, but she couldn’t seem to help it. She dabbed at the sweat on her forehead, thankful for the topless buggy they were in. At least there was a breeze.
“I’ve given a few of my goats away to people I knew would take gut care of them,” she said. “And we’ve lost a few to coyotes or sickness.” She shook her head. “It’s awful when that happens.”
“We’ve got horses, pigs, sheep, and chickens.” Matt slowed the buggy down to a trot. “But no goats. Mamm had a bad experience with a billy goat when she was young. She got rammed pretty bad and said the males get mean sometimes. She’s never wanted any part of goats”
“Aw, they make such gut pets. We drink the goat milk too. It’s better for you than cow’s milk. And we make cheese.” She paused. “But we do have to separate the males until breeding time. Some of them do get a bit ill-tempered.”
“So . . . you don’t eat any of them?”
Becky brought a hand to her chest. “Bite your tongue. No way!”
They both laughed, and Becky realized that the nervous fluttering had stopped, and she was really enjoying talking with him.
Matt pulled into her driveway, his eyes fixed on the herd. “Last time you had worship service at your haus, I don’t remember seeing that many goats.”
“It was winter the last time we had service here. They were probably in the barn keeping warm.” She waited for him to come to a complete stop before she stepped out of the buggy. “Danki for bringing me home.”
“Sure.”
She turned to walk inside, her step a bit lighter. She wondered what it would be like to date someone like Matt King. He was so handsome. And so nice.
Just the kind of fellow who would break her heart.
Chapter Four
Becky pulled the scale out from under her bed, anxious to see how much weight she’d lost over the past month. Her dresses were loose, and she was guessing at least ten pounds. She had a lot more energy too.
As she reached under the bed, she dislodged a red suitcase filled with Englisch magazines. Once she had loved poring over the pictures of the models, fantasizing about what it would be like to be thin. But the comparison made her even more depressed, so she hadn’t looked at them lately.
She shoved the suitcase aside, stepped onto the scale, and gasped. Twenty-three pounds.
Before she had a chance to celebrate or even comprehend the number, someone knocked on the door. She scrambled to put on her shoes and socks and slipped the scale back under the bed.
“Come in.”
Ruben walked in. It was hard for Becky to believe that her fourteen-year-old brother would be entering his rumschpringe in two years. He was a handsome kid and was surely going to break some hearts.
“Mamm said one of your goats has her head stuck in the fence. We can hear her hollering.” Ruben rubbed his nose. “And breakfast is ready.”
“Okay. I know I overslept this morning. Tell Mamm I’ll be down in a few minutes.” Not the best way to start the day—with a goat in distress. There were several sections of the fence where the smaller goats could stick their heads in the hog wire, then because of the way their horns jutted backward,
they couldn’t get out. Becky and her father had added tight meshed chicken wire in the spots where the goats often got stuck, but the whole fence really needed to be done.
She pinned her hair, put on her kapp, and hurried downstairs.
“Sorry I’m late, Mamm.” She didn’t stop as she walked through the kitchen. “I’ll get the goat and be right back.”
She rushed across the yard to the pasture where she kept her goats. Peaches was the one who was stuck. Becky couldn’t see her yet, but she recognized her voice. The babies bleated when they were first born, then the sound turned into more of a long whine before they actually sounded like full-grown goats. Peaches was born three months ago, and she was just the right size to get her head stuck.
Becky found Peaches on the far side of the pasture. “It’s all right, girl,” she said. She maneuvered the spiked horns until the kid was free, and Peaches quickly ran back to her mother.
Becky knew she was going to have to come up with a way to keep her goats from getting stuck. Surrounding the entire pasture with chicken wire would do it, but when would any of them have time for a project that big?
After she gave most of her pets a rub on the snout, she hurried back for breakfast.
“Daed, what should we do about them getting their heads stuck in the fence?” She sat down across from where Ruben and Lena were sitting at the kitchen table. “It only happens until they get big enough that their heads won’t fit, but they manage to poke through the wire in the same places to get to those bushes they love.”
Daed reached for a piece of toast on a plate in the middle of the table. “They’ll die in this heat if one of them gets stuck and no one is around to free them.”
And it would be my fault. Becky stared at the scrapple, eggs, bacon, and toast. She took one small spoonful of eggs and one piece of bacon.
“Those Boer goats with their spiked horns have always gotten stuck in the fences,” her father went on. “I’ve pulled the buggy over on the side of the road and freed plenty of them over the years.” Daed scooped up a spoonful of scrapple. “When I was growing up, we duct taped a stick to their horns, and that kept them from being able to fit their heads through the fence when they were young. Never seemed to bother any of them.”
