Home on Huckleberry Hill

by Jennifer Beckstrand

  “I know I haven’t treated you like a husband should treat his fraa—especially after you moved out. There’s no gute excuse for how I acted except that I felt like you’d taken a rock and thrown it at my head. I was confused and wonderful unhappy.”

  Mary Anne pressed her lips tightly together as another wave of guilt washed over her. She couldn’t blame Jethro for being mad. She hadn’t given him any warning, and then suddenly she was gone. For sure and certain it had felt like a blow right to the head. “I don’t wonder that you reacted like any normal husband would react.”

  “That doesn’t excuse what I’ve done. You’re the person I love most in the whole world, but I haven’t treated you that way.”

  She laced her fingers together. “I know it was hard on you. You were embarrassed when the gmayna found out, but I thought you would be happier once I was out of your hair.”

  He winced. “Then I’ve failed as a husband.” He took off his hat and scrubbed his fingers through his hair. “I want to do better.”

  “That doesn’t mean I’m going to move back in.”

  Pain filled his eyes, but there was resignation in the lines of his face. “I know. But when this is over, I don’t want you to have any doubt in your mind that I love you.”

  When this is over. Jethro couldn’t know how significant those words were. Did he know what over meant to her?

  Mary Anne nearly jumped out of her skin when Mammi’s voice rang loud and clear through the darkness. “Felty, there’s a spider on my neck!”

  Dawdi’s sleepy, muffled voice was a little harder to hear. “Huh? What are you saying, Annie?”

  Mammi’s voice got louder and more insistent. “Can you get this spider off my neck?”

  “I can’t see it,” Dawdi said.

  “Kill it!” Mammi squeaked.

  “I can’t kill it. Spiders are very helpful in the garden.” Dawdi always did have a heart for the animals.

  “Ach! It’s crawling down my back. Help me, Felty. Help me.”

  Mary Anne heard a thud and a thump and some general struggling coming from the direction of the hammock. She and Jethro glanced at each other before Jethro retrieved his flashlight and they sprinted to the twin trees.

  Mary Anne gasped as Jethro shined his light in the direction of the hammock. Arms and legs stuck out in every direction, flailing as if trying to find purchase on anything solid. Somehow Mammi and Dawdi had managed to trap themselves in their own bed, tangled beyond any knot Mary Anne could begin to untie.

  “Hold on, Mammi and Dawdi,” Mary Anne said. “We’re coming.”

  “I’m stuck,” Mammi panted. “We’re both stuck, and I think I’ve lost one of my feet.”

  “Ouch! That’s my beard, Annie-Banannie,” Dawdi said. His arm hung from one of the holes in the netting, and he waved it around as if he was paddling through the water—probably hoping he could swim to the nearest tree and save both of them.

  “Kill it, Felty!”

  Both of Dawdi’s arms stuck out from either side of the hammock. He wasn’t going to get a chance at that spider unless he trapped it with one of his feet.

  Sparky the dog, who had been asleep under the hammock, woke up and started barking as soon as Jethro got within ten feet. If Mammi’s squealing didn’t wake up the whole camp, Sparky’s barking would. Sparky was soon joined by Lily’s dog, Pilot, two tents over, who sounded more like a wolf than a dog. Mandy and Noah’s Polish hound dog, Chester, joined the chorus. One—or more likely both—of Lily’s twins started crying. The sounds of Mammi’s squealing, babies’ crying, and the dogs’ barking echoed up through the trees and into the night sky.

  “Can you stop struggling?” Jethro said, running his hand along the hammock, trying to find where they’d gone wrong. “It looks like it twisted completely upside down and around itself.”

  “I did a flip when that spider landed on me,” Mammi said.

  Mammi was spry, but surely she couldn’t have flipped the hammock all the way over on itself. Mary Anne could understand Mammi’s reaction, though. She didn’t like spiders either. She wasn’t sure how high she would jump if one landed on her.

  Sarah Beachy emerged from her tent carrying a hissing lantern. Her hair fell in a long braid down her back, and she wore a black shawl around her shoulders. “Jethro Neuenschwander, what are you doing? Haven’t you stirred up enough trouble for one day?”

  “It’s not Jethro’s fault,” Mary Anne said, though why she bothered to defend him was a mystery. She shone the flashlight in the direction of the hammock. “Mammi and Dawdi got tangled all on their own.”

  Sarah raised both eyebrows, as if annoyed but not surprised that her grandparents were stuck in her hammock. “I told you, Mammi,” she said, talking to the east side of the hammock at the spot where Mammi’s head was most likely to be. “People your age should be at home sleeping in a bed. You’re going to get sciatica or lumbago. Or arthritis.”

  Dawdi sounded like he had a blanket lodged between his teeth. “And probably shingles too.”

  “Now, Felty,” Mammi scolded. “We’ve had the shot for shingles. No need to worry about that.”

  Noah, Mandy’s husband, came out of his tent quickly buttoning his shirt. Chester followed, barking as if a herd of cats was sneaking around, maybe crouched behind the surrounding trees. “What happened?” Noah asked.

  Jethro simultaneously tried to fend off Sparky and figure out how to free Mammi and Dawdi. “They’re tangled in the hammock, and I can’t quite see clear how to rescue them.”

  “Help us, Jethro,” Mammi called. Her face peeked out from under one of the blankets and her bare foot stuck out from the hammock not five inches from Jethro’s face. Mary Anne shivered involuntarily. Mammi’s toes had to be freezing.

  Noah glanced at Jethro and frowned. Noah probably wondered if he was allowed to be nice to his own brother-in-law. He ran his fingers along one side of the hammock while Mammi and Dawdi struggled mightily inside their cocoon. “I think we’re going to have to take the whole thing down,” he said.

  Jethro nodded. “Do you want to untie the knot or hold them up?”

  Noah thought about it for a second. “You’re strong. I’ll untie, and we’ll both lower them to the ground.”

  Jethro handed Mary Anne the flashlight. “Anna and Felty, we’re going to have to take your hammock down. Noah is going to untie one end, and we’ll lower you to the ground. Then we can get you out of there.”

  “Okay,” Mammi said. “If you’re sure you won’t drop us.”

  Jethro patted one of Mammi’s hands, which stuck out from the hammock. “I won’t let you fall, Anna. You’re my favorite grandmother-in-law.”

  Mary Anne smiled to herself. Jethro had such a comforting voice and a calming way about him. He could talk an angry bear into trusting him. His untroubled manner had pulled her through those first few weeks after the miscarriage. It was only later that he seemed to quit caring how she felt and started treating her with indifference instead of fondness.

  “Be careful, Jethro,” Mammi said. “I’ve lost track of that spider, and he might turn on you next.”

  Noah nodded to Jethro and held the rope taut with one hand while he untied it with his other. Jethro braced his back and shoulder against the sagging hammock and gripped the rope with both hands. Noah loosened the knot and held on tight as Jethro slowly lowered his end of the hammock to the ground. Mammi and Dawdi rolled out of the hammock like marbles from a bag.

  “Ach du lieva,” Mammi said. “Now I know what a burrito feels like. I’m never eating one again, even though I have a very gute recipe.”

  Mary Anne had tasted Mammi’s burritos. She could only hope Mammi would be true to her word and never pull out that recipe again.

  As soon as her grandparents were safely on the ground, Mary Anne and Sarah rushed to Mammi’s side and helped her up. Jethro pulled Dawdi to his feet. Mammi was barefoot, wearing a cream-colored nightgown with a fluorescent pink nightcap. Her braid had fallen apar
t, probably during her hammock ordeal, and her snowy-white hair frolicked about her head like wispy clouds on a windy day. But she had a smile on her face, which, after being attacked by a spider and tangled up in a hammock, was quite a miracle. “Denki, Jethro. Denki, Noah.” She reached up and patted Jethro on the cheek. “You were always such a nice boy, even if you are a bit thick sometimes.”

  Sarah took off her shawl and placed it over Mammi’s shoulders. “I suppose this is my fault. I thought the hammock would be more comfortable, but I should have known better.”

  Mammi waved her hand as if swatting a fly—or a mosquito. They were plentiful in the woods in the springtime. “I got attacked by a spider. I had to defend myself.” She scrunched her lips to one side of her face. “Come to think of it, it might have been a nightmare.” She turned to Jethro. “Did you see any spiders running away?”

  Jethro shook his head. “He probably sneaked away when he heard you tell Felty to kill him.”

  Mary Anne loved Mammi’s laugh. It sounded like Christmas morning and birthday parties. “Jethro, you’re such a tease. Spiders don’t speak Deitsch.”

  Sarah wasn’t in any kind of mood. “I wholeheartedly support solidarity, but those dogs have got to go or none of us will get any sleep.”

  Mammi smoothed her hand down her nightgown. “Now, Sarah, you know in your heart I can’t leave Sparky home. When she gets lonely she sheds and chases the chickens.” Mammi took in a breath sharply. “Oh dear. I forgot all about the chickens, Felty. There’s probably a mountain of eggs in that coop, and the chickens have no doubt run into the woods and been eaten by the bears.”

  “I don’t think bears eat chickens, Banannie.”

  “Well. That’s a relief.” She brushed her fingers across her neck, as if remembering the spider that may or may not have been there. “We had a bear in our huckleberry patch once. It nearly ate Pilot, but Pilot got away.”

  “Huh,” Sarah grunted. “That’s too bad.”

  “I heard that,” Lily called from inside her tent.

  Dawdi straightened his nightshirt. He was still wearing his trousers and socks. “Not to worry, Annie. I asked Titus to keep watch over our chickens and milk Iris twice a day. He takes the milk home to Katie Rose so she can make cheese.”

  Sarah folded her arms. “We still need to do something about the dogs.”

  Noah wrapped his fingers around Chester’s collar and led him quickly back into the tent. He probably didn’t want to be around for any talk of banishing the dogs. Mary Anne liked having a few dogs in the camp. They were noisy, to be sure, but they probably kept the bears away. And the foxes. And for sure and certain the raccoons.

  Mammi sighed. “I’m afraid you’ll just have to wear earplugs, Sarah. I can’t do without Sparky.”

  “But now you have no bed,” Sarah said. “I’ll hitch up your buggy and take you home right now if you want.”

  Jethro pointed to the Swift-n-Snug tent. “I would really appreciate it if you would take my bed in the house, Anna. I’m sleeping out here tonight.”

  Dawdi’s eyes lit up, but he didn’t say anything.

  Mammi smiled as if she was very pleased—either pleased about Jethro sleeping outside or pleased she would get a nice bed tonight. The smile faded as quickly as it had appeared. “Ach, Jethro, that’s a wonderful nice offer, but Felty and I would never dream of abandoning Mary Anne in her time of need.”

  “We wouldn’t really be abandoning her,” Dawdi said. “It’s cold out here, and we don’t have a tent or a hammock, and you forgot your stockings.”

  “And there are no spiders,” Jethro said.

  Mary Anne clasped her hands together. “You wouldn’t be abandoning me, Mammi. Sarah, Lily, and Mandy are all here.”

  A deep line appeared between Mammi’s brows. “But solidarity was my idea. What will happen to the protest if the captain gives up?”

  “You’re not giving up,” Sarah said. “You’re being practical, and we’ll keep the solidarity going until you get back.”

  Mammi pursed her lips. “I suppose you’re right, especially if it’s just for one night. And my feet are like ice cubes. Do you have any slippers, Jethro?”

  “Jah, right at the foot of my bed.”

  Mammi smiled. “I’ll do my best to keep Sparky from chewing on them.”

  Jethro’s hesitation was so brief that only Mary Anne noticed it. “They’re lined with sheepskin. They’ll keep your feet warm.” Mary Anne was impressed. He didn’t complain or take back his very generous offer or make a face, even though he loved those slippers.

  No matter what Jethro thought of her, he was always so kind to her grandparents. It was one of the few things she still liked about him.

  Chapter Twelve

  Mary Anne dipped her brush into the dollop of ruby red paint on her palette, crinkled her nose, and squinted at her canvas. She had thought to paint a whole flock of butterflies, but Dennis wanted them to start with something easy so they could learn the basic elements of oil painting. Mary Anne’s gaze traveled from her canvas to the deep red apple sitting on the table next to the kaffee mug. Green Bay Packers was written across the bottom of the mug, but Dennis said to pretend the mug was plain white. The lettering was too complex for their lesson today.

  It was just Mary Anne’s second day at work, but she had been eager to start the painting class as soon as possible. Charlene had purchased ten small blank canvases out of the center’s budget, and there were plenty of paints and brushes and easels to go around. Dennis, Bob Hennig, Dawdi, and Josie Monson—who didn’t have a great deal of artistic talent—were the only ones who had been interested in painting. The other women and Mammi were on the far side of the room tying a quilt.

  It had only taken Mary Anne two minutes of trying to instruct her students how to paint a butterfly to realize she was completely unqualified to teach a painting class. She liked to paint farm scenes on her walls and butterflies on her tent, but she’d never taken a course or read a book on painting. She wasn’t even sure how to tell her students how to hold the brush properly. Josie held her brush between her index finger and thumb the way Mary Anne had seen Englischers hold their cigarettes. Dawdi held his brush like a pencil. Margaret had raised her hand and asked if they shouldn’t sketch something on the canvas in pencil first, and Mary Anne hadn’t been able to give her an answer.

  At that point, Dennis—bless his heart—had stood up and gently taken over the class. He had smiled and told Mary Anne that he knew a little about painting because he’d studied art in college, and could he maybe give everyone a few pointers? Mary Anne had been humiliated for about half a second, and then she’d decided that if she wanted to learn anything, she’d better be humble enough to own up to her shortcomings.

  Dennis had offered Mary Anne his chair and then he gave them a lesson on the basics of oil painting. Mary Anne was soaking it in as fast as she could. She’d never even guessed she needed to know line and shape, texture and light. She had always just enjoyed the creativity without learning the skills.

  Her heart raced at the possibilities, at the exhilaration of learning something new, something that opened a whole world for her that she never even knew existed. Ach, the things she’d been missing!

  Even concentrating as hard as she was, it was easy to hear the conversation Mammi, Alice, and Judy were having on the other side of the room, while they tied a baby quilt for the hospital. Mary Anne hadn’t had time to put together a patchwork quilt for them to work on, so she’d found some cute flannel at the store, cut it into two panels, and stretched it onto the quilt frames at the senior center. Once she finished her latest quilt top, she’d bring it for the ladies to work on. They seemed excited about helping her make quilts for Pammy’s Etsy shop, and they balked when she offered to share the profits with them.

  “We should be paying you,” Alice had said. “We love to quilt, and it’s all the better if we can help you make a little extra money. Camping isn’t cheap.”

  Nae, campin
g wasn’t cheap, not with the food and other supplies she had to buy. She needed to make as many quilts as possible because she wanted to save enough money to be in her own place when the weather turned cold. October at the latest. And she needed to repay Jethro his two hundred dollars. She didn’t want to feel guilty about it anymore, and it would be better if he quit fretting about it. Maybe it would be easier for him to forgive her if his money jar was comfortably full again.

  Mary Anne took a deep breath to clear the weight that settled onto her chest. Thank the gute Lord, Jethro had given her back her sewing machine and the half-painted bench she planned to sell on Etsy. As long as she could earn some money with her handicrafts, she would be okay. And so would Jethro, Lord willing.

  Dennis came around to Mary Anne’s side of the canvas and took a look at her work. “I like the shape of your apple,” he said. “Can you make the gradations of color more subtle?”

  Mary Anne pressed her lips together. She was so ignorant yet. She didn’t even know what gradations or subtle meant. “What . . . what do you mean?”

  Dennis bent down to her eye level and pointed to the apple on the table. “The apple isn’t just one color of red. Do you see how the red gives way to green around the top by the stem, or how the shadows at the bottom make the color darker? There’s even a little fleck of white where the light shines on it yet.”

  Mary Anne nodded. “Okay. I’ll mix more colors.”

  Dennis smiled. “The best part is that you can always paint over your mistakes.”

  “I like that when you’re tying a quilt too,” Judy called from across the room. “I seem to be making a lot of knots.”

  “Ach,” Mammi said. “You should learn how to knit. It limbers up your fingers for quilting, except you can’t knit while you’re camping because your fingers get cold and seize up, and spiders like to lurk in the yarn.”

  Judy tried to thread her needle and look at Mary Anne at the same time. “How is the camping going?”

  Mary Anne didn’t quite know how to answer that. Camping itself was terrible, but being out of that house and on her own was heavenly.