Home on Huckleberry Hill

by Jennifer Beckstrand

  He’d gotten his way, but Mary Anne had stopped doing much in the garden after that. Flowers were expensive, a fact he’d pointed out to her many times over the years. If she planted anything, she got starts from her cousins or seeds from her neighbors. He pressed his lips together. Was his love of money the root of all his marital problems?

  “You didn’t mind my projects so much at first,” she said.

  I don’t mind them so much now, he wanted to say, but since he’d torn down her mobiles and painted over the quilt square on the barn, he couldn’t really justify himself. Mary Anne’s projects cost money, and the older he got, the more frivolous it seemed to spend money on paint and potato chips.

  He swallowed hard, not sure he would like the answer to his next question, but if he wanted to win Mary Anne back, he had to know. “When did I start to get boring?” It was probably around the time he’d started worrying about paying the medical bills.

  She shifted in her chair. “I don’t know.”

  He was making her uncomfortable, when he really wanted to see her smile. “I wasn’t always boring. You and I almost got arrested by the Shawano police.”

  Her blush got even deeper, even though she tried to suppress a smile. “Ach, Jethro, that was your fault, not mine.”

  His mouth fell open in mock indignation. “It was your idea to go to the lake. You wanted to see the sunset. Is it my fault the sunset was so romantic?” In the first few months of their marriage, he hadn’t been able to get enough of her. Things had gone a little far in the buggy—not that Mary Anne minded—but that overeager policeman had. Still, it was a gute memory.

  Mary Anne laughed. Jethro drank in the sound like a thirsty man gulps up water. How long had it been since he’d heard her laugh? “You kept telling the policeman we were married, but he didn’t believe you. He was a grumpy one.”

  “Grumpy?” Jethro protested. “He made me get out of the buggy, walk a straight line, and close my eyes and touch my nose. Then he followed us to my parents’ house and asked my dat if we really were married.”

  “He told me it was his job to keep the Amish kids from getting pregnant.”

  “I can’t believe that was his only job. What about bank robbers?”

  “There aren’t that many banks in Shawano.”

  “I don’t know who my mamm was angrier at, the policeman or me. It didn’t matter to her that we were married. She insisted there are just some things you don’t do in a buggy.”

  Mary Anne shook her head. “I couldn’t look your parents in the eye for a month.”

  “After an adventure like that, I can’t believe you would ever think I was boring.” He stood up and emptied out the pockets of his trousers. He held out his hand. “Look. Would a boring man carry a pocketknife and half a roll of breath mints? And look at this. A rock that looks very much like a button.”

  Mary Anne’s ears perked up at the thought of a rock in the shape of a button. She took it from him and turned it over in her hand. “Wonderful gute. But it looks more like a tire.”

  “Tire, button. They’re both very exciting things to carry in my pocket.”

  Mary Anne lost her smile and sighed with her whole body. “Ach, Jethro. We both know I didn’t leave because you’re boring.”

  He nodded and tried to pretend her words hadn’t cut his legs off. “You said you stopped loving me, but I thought you stopped loving me because you think I’m boring.”

  She stiffened her spine. “Ach. Maybe that was part of it.”

  Mary Anne wasn’t shallow or selfish. She never would have left him just because he was boring. She’d told him she didn’t love him anymore. How had that happened? Jethro again fought the urge to argue with her. What did I do wrong? Why didn’t you tell me?

  He knew the answer without having to ask.

  She didn’t tell him because he wouldn’t have heard her. He hadn’t truly listened for a very long time. The morning he had found her in the woods making Gruyère-and-bacon French toast and some sort of gourmet kaffee, he had assumed she was throwing a tantrum. It was easier and less painful to accuse her of being childish than to try to understand her reasons for leaving. He was just discovering how deep her reasons were, and it made him ashamed. “What did I do that made you want to live in a tent even more than you wanted to live with me, heartzly?”

  If she cared that he called her heartzly, she didn’t show it. “I left because you love your fishing pole more than you love me.”

  Jethro clenched his teeth to keep from shouting out a denial. He could tell she wasn’t being petty or trying to make him angry. The truth of what she said was written plainly in her eyes. He had obviously done something to make her believe it. “I only bought it a few weeks ago. Is it because I keep it on the bed in the spare bedroom?”

  She lowered her eyes and shook her head. “You might as well keep it in there.”

  “I’ll move it if that would make you feel better.”

  “It’s not really about the fishing pole, Jethro. It’s just that when the fishing pole went where our baby was supposed to have slept . . . I don’t know . . . It was like all my hopes and dreams were dead, and I realized it had been that way for a long time.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t think of it that way.”

  “Until I moved out, how long had it been since you thought of me as your wife, your helpmeet?”

  Again, Jethro held back. He wanted to give her a chance to tell her truth, no matter how painful it was for him. Humility had never been an easy pill to swallow. “Help me understand what you mean, Mary Anne.”

  She pulled back. “I don’t want to hurt your feelings, Jethro. My faults and sins are a hundred times what yours are. I should pull the beam out of my eye before I go pointing out the mote in yours.”

  “I want to know how you feel. I don’t care about motes or beams. I don’t even know what those are exactly.” He propped his elbows on his knees and tried to make himself look as teachable as possible. He didn’t quite know how to do that, so he pressed his lips together as a sign that he wasn’t going to interrupt her and looked at her intently.

  “You’ll be mad.”

  “Probably, but you have nothing to fear from me.”

  She furrowed her brow. “I know.”

  Of all the things she could have done, this little gesture was significant to him in ways Mary Anne didn’t know. She wasn’t afraid of him. The thought sent a ribbon of warmth snaking up his spine. “What did I do that made you stop loving me?”

  She sighed in resignation. “I started to feel like I was just another thing that made your life easier, like a piece of furniture or the clock on the wall. You paid attention to me when you needed dinner or kaffee or clean laundry, and as long as I did what a godly Amish fraa should, you had nothing to complain about. You went fishing or sat in your easy chair and read the newspaper every night, and as long as your slippers were by your chair, you didn’t have much to say to me.”

  Jethro stroked his short beard. “You’ve gotten so quiet the last few years.”

  “I didn’t want to say anything that would disappoint you. I had disappointed you so much already.”

  “I suppose I didn’t want you to see how disappointed I was about the baby. When I was fishing, I didn’t have to hide my disappointment, and I didn’t have to watch you grieve.”

  Mary Anne nodded. “You were doing what you thought would bring you the most happiness. The problem was that you were all I had, and your love was shrinking. My life shriveled like a dried apple. I was the submissive, steady fraa you wanted me to be, but I wasn’t Mary Anne anymore. I moved out before I lost myself altogether.”

  He knew he shouldn’t push her, but he understood things so much better than he did just a week ago. “I’m different than I was, Mary Anne. I’ve been insensitive and distracted, but I can’t bear the thought of losing you. Can’t you give me another chance?”

  She stared at him for a few seconds. “How long would it last, Jethro? Two or three
weeks? Six months? You like your predictable life, and I love butterflies and fancy cheese. I’m not going to try to please you anymore. You wouldn’t be able to put up with me for more than a month. You may not believe this, but I moved out as much to make you happy as I did for me.”

  He couldn’t keep a hint of bitterness from his voice. “You’re right. I don’t believe it. Maybe you just wish it was true.”

  She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I said more than I meant to. My faults and sins are a hundred times what yours are. You can take comfort in that.”

  “I can’t take comfort in anything, Mary Anne. Right now, except for the fact that you’re living in a tent, I can’t think of one thing I don’t like about you.”

  “I can jog your memory if you need.” She stood up and turned toward her tent, signaling an end to the conversation. There was nothing he could do but stand as well. “I’ve got to get to that quilt. It’s got to be done on Tuesday so the ladies at the senior center can work on it.” She turned back and gave him an I’m-really-sorry-for-you smile. Even Mary Anne felt sorry for him, and she was living in a tent sewing quilts for extra money. “Gute nacht, Jethro. Enjoy that fish.”

  She ducked into her tent, and Jethro stood like a stone as he heard her turn on the lamp. He watched as her muted shadow moved about her tent, listened as the sound of her soft movements drove him crazy with the need to go in there and kiss her. He tightened his fist around his package of fish and tried to distract himself with thoughts of Porta-Potties and parents and pansies. It was no use. Thoughts of Mary Anne were so painful and potent, he couldn’t even stand up straight.

  Mary Anne was at the sewing machine now. After a few breathless seconds, it began humming at the speed of his heart.

  Even though he could barely stand the thought of dinner with his parents and David Eicher, Jethro stumbled in the direction of his tent. Smoke curled up through the trees in the distance. Mamm and Dat had found some firewood.

  Jethro pressed his fingers to his temple, but nothing would keep a headache at bay. There was nothing quite as painful as coming face-to-face with the truth about who you really were. Jethro felt it all the way to the marrow in his bones. He’d slowly pulled away from her in the months after the baby. He’d spent three or four nights a week fishing, sometimes getting home so late that Mary Anne was already in bed. No wonder she wanted a divorce. He had abandoned her months ago. He had thought he was protecting her from the painful memories when he encouraged her to stop quilting. He hadn’t been able to see the value in painting rocks or walls and had talked her out of spending the money. And then there was the food. Mary Anne was an exceptional cook. She could make chicken and rice taste like a meal fit for a king. That was why he thought her buying fancy foods was unnecessary. Her simple meals were gute enough. Fancy cheese and gourmet olive oil cost too much money, and he hadn’t seen the need.

  He had forgotten how important these things were to Mary Anne. In his eagerness to help her forget her heartache and save money, he had disregarded his dear fraa. She thought she was a disappointment to him, and so she had tried as hard as she could to be the wife she thought he wanted. And in truth, she had become the fraa he’d hoped for—never complaining, never grieving for their baby, never spending money for frivolous things. He’d been able to buy that fishing pole because of her thrift. The irony of it was not lost on him. He had strained at a gnat when he wouldn’t let Mary Anne buy exciting cheese but had swallowed a camel buying that fishing pole. And the tent. And the sleeping bags and cots.

  He was so ashamed, he could have crawled into that Porta-Potty and never come out. But there was also a little bit of hope mixed up in all that murky despair. He knew what he’d done wrong, so maybe he could fix it. If Mary Anne had truly lost hope for their marriage, why would she have been so honest with him? Of course, that might mean she didn’t care anymore, but Jethro preferred to think maybe deep down inside she wanted to love him again.

  He hoped and prayed it was so.

  He couldn’t bear the thought of a fishing pole destroying his marriage.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Mary Anne jumped from her sleeping bag, gasped at the cold, and threw on her dress and shawl so fast, she could have won a race. She quickly donned her kapp and tied her bonnet underneath her chin with stiff fingers. It was supposed to be getting warmer. Wasn’t summer little more than a month away?

  She liked to get up early and make the kaffee before Mammi and Dawdi had a chance to do it. She felt guilty enough about her grandparents staying in the woods. She’d feel terrible if one of them ended up in the hospital or flat in bed with a bad back. The gute news was that this was Tuesday morning, and her grandparents had slept in the RV for four straight nights without a peep. Mary Anne said an extra prayer of thanks for Bob Hennig and Charlene Johnson. Charlene had given Mary Anne the job at the senior center where Mammi and Dawdi had met Bob, who had been kind enough to offer his RV for them to sleep in. So far, the arrangement seemed to be working out.

  The RV was warm and comfortable and insulated, so no one in the camp could hear Dawdi snoring at night. They’d all gotten a lot more sleep. Mammi and Dawdi had their own toilet and shower, which freed up the crowded bathroom in the barn, and Mandy and Lily and their families had started using the bathroom in the house. It was a lot warmer in there, and it would do no one any gute if one of die kinner got pneumonia.

  Mary Anne unzipped the flap, ducked out of her tent, and got the shivers all over again. A light blanket of snow dusted the ground. No wonder she’d been able to see her breath this morning. Just another balmy Wisconsin spring day.

  The good news was, there was already a cheery fire going in the fire pit. She smiled as she warmed her hands near the flames and glanced in the direction of Jethro’s camp. Smoke rose from their fire pit too. Since Jethro had moved into the woods, he had been starting both fires before anyone else got up in the morning. Jethro was thoughtful like that—more so in the first years of their marriage than the last. Still, he didn’t have to build Mary Anne’s fire. It was a sign of his kind nature that he did.

  Of course, it might be just another trick to get her to move back into the house, but what did it matter why the fire got made? Might as well let him do it, no matter his reasons.

  For four days, Jethro’s and Mary Anne’s camps mostly had nothing to do with each other, except when one of Jethro’s friends or family needed to use the shower in the barn. Mary Anne hadn’t even seen Lois except for a glimpse of her on the first day. Jethro must have told Lois that Mary Anne didn’t want to talk to her, and Mary Anne was wonderful grateful. Lois could keep her righteous indignation to herself. Mary Anne already knew how Lois felt. She didn’t need a daily lecture about the evils of leaving her husband.

  The door of the RV creaked open, and Mammi stepped out onto the small step that was the only thing between her and falling flat on her face. Mary Anne always held her breath when she watched Mammi and Dawdi get out of the RV. It was too high off the ground for two eightysomething-year-olds, especially for Mammi, who couldn’t even touch her feet to the ground when she sat on a normal-size chair. This RV had a step that pulled out from under the door. It didn’t look all that sturdy, but Mammi and Dawdi seemed to have no problem with it.

  Mammi kept hold of the doorknob as she lowered herself to the ground. She was in a black dress with a black apron and a lime-green sweater. Mammi was a famous knitter, and she liked to create all sorts of colorful sweaters for herself. No one had the heart to tell her that lime-green sweaters weren’t exactly in keeping with the Ordnung. With her white kapp and snowy hair, she looked like a piece of Key lime pie.

  Sparky bounded out of the RV after Mammi, barking and carrying on as if she was going for a ride in the car. Mammi caught sight of Mary Anne, burst into a smile, and waved. Then, like she had done every morning for the last four days, she narrowed her eyes in the direction of Jethro’s camp and huffed out a breath. “Are they still here?”

 
“I suppose they are, Mammi,” Mary Anne said.

  “I wish they’d go home. Solidarity was my idea. They’re a bunch of copycats.”

  Mary Anne wished they’d go home too. On Saturday night, she had overheard David Eicher giving Lily a very loud piece of his mind about how she needed to go home and be a comfort to her husband.

  “But Dat,” Lily had said, “you don’t even like my husband.”

  Mary Anne had nearly laughed out loud. Lily was too clever for her dat by half. David was in a difficult position. He would rather get a tooth pulled than say anything in support of his son-in-law, but the only leverage he had over Lily was to invoke Bible verses to urge her to go back to Aden. David had no idea Aden was firmly on Lily’s side of the argument. On Sunday night, Aden had moved in with Lily. He’d told Mary Anne that he wasn’t going to allow David to scold his fraa again. If David wanted to yell at someone, Aden wanted David to yell at him.

  Mary Anne hated that she’d been the cause of so much contention and unplanned camping, but she loved seeing how her married cousins took care of their spouses. Jethro hadn’t watched out for her for years. She drew her brows together. He had made a fire for her every morning for a week, and he had kept his mater away from her. Maybe in his own way, he was trying to watch out for her. Or maybe he was just trying to convince her to come home.

  “I don’t wonder that they’ll all be gone soon,” Mary Anne said. “Except for maybe Lois and Chris. They might stay until Jethro gives up.”

  Mammi sighed pitifully and shook her head. “I’m afraid they’ll be here until one of them dies of old age. Jethro isn’t going to give up. He’s in love with you.”

  Mary Anne frowned. Jethro only thought he loved her because he didn’t know how to cook his own meals and do his own laundry. Now that Lois was cooking for him, he wouldn’t be so desperate to get Mary Anne back. Maybe he’d move in with his parents when all was said and done.