Fern snapped to attention. “We can’t have flaring nostrils. We must keep all foreign objects off our blankets. Are you coming in, Felty?”
“Nae. I steer clear of the knitting group.”
Fern’s lips twitched. “Are you afraid we’ll teach you how to knit?”
Dawdi waved his hand in Fern’s direction. “Ach, I already know how to knit, but I’m not very gute at it. Anna only asks me to knit pot holders when it’s an emergency. When she was trying to find a husband for our granddaughter Mandy, Anna was giving away a dozen pot holders a week. It took three of us to keep up with all the boys who came around. Two boys returned my pot holders because they had unraveled. They wanted their money back, and they hadn’t even paid for them.” Dawdi stroked his beard. “I stay away from the knitting group because women clam up when a man’s around, and Anna can’t solve people’s problems if she doesn’t know what they are.”
Fern brushed the dirt off her hands and sighed. “Ach, vell. They’ve set the timer. I should be going. I’ll come out after we knit and help you plant peas.”
Reuben tried not to wilt like peach blossoms in a late frost. “Dawdi said he would help me.” There would be nothing for Fern to do after knitting group.
Dawdi scrunched his lips together and glanced at Fern. “I have some bad news. I won’t be able to help with the peas. I’m meeting some friends in town. I can’t solve anybody’s problems unless I know what they are.”
“I don’t mind planting the peas,” Reuben said.
Fern smiled at him. “And I don’t mind helping when the knitting group goes home.”
Reuben nodded, determined to plant extra slow so there would be something for Fern to do when she came out. It made her happy to be helpful, and he liked it when Fern was happy. She was like family, after all.
Fern practically skipped out of the barn. Was that girl ever grumpy? Maybe she was being extra cheerful to make up for his sullen mood the last three months. He had been sullen and angry and downright unpleasant to be around, but maybe all that was coming to an end. The community in Bonduel was wonderful nice. He could have some friends here.
Reuben helped Dawdi hitch up his small two-seater buggy and watched as he drove down the hill with his jacket collar tucked around his chin. Reuben grabbed a hoe, a shovel, the seeds, and some gardening gloves and tromped to the garden. Dawdi had a nice size plot with at least a quarter acre of raspberries and plenty of room for a long row of tomatoes and several other vegetables.
Reuben started tilling up the soil with his shovel, forming a long furrow for water to drain. He’d string twine when he finished planting so the peas would have somewhere to climb. The ground was moist and heavy, but it was no match for Reuben’s shovel. Mammi and Dawdi would get a gute crop of peas if Reuben had anything to say about it.
Almost as if the knitting group had some sort of plan, Sadie appeared from around the side of the barn at exactly ten minutes after nine o’clock. Reuben glanced up and smiled. Sadie looked very pretty in an emerald-green dress and crisp, white kapp. One of her two front teeth was slightly crooked, and it made her smile interesting and sort of playful. She smiled at him now like a scholar on the last day of school, and he suddenly felt very glad that he had left Sugarcreek. He could start fresh here in Bonduel where no one thought he was a fool and no one whispered about him behind their hands.
“Sick of knitting already?” Reuben said, flashing her one of his best smiles.
“I like being in the knitting group, but I don’t particularly enjoy knitting. At least I’m better than Esther. She is hopeless.” Sadie tiptoed around the muddiest places in the garden until she was standing on the dirt clods Reuben had just turned over. “To tell the truth, I’d rather be out here with you.”
“I’m sure you’re a fine knitter.”
“Mamm says knitting is a waste of time. Nobody ever got a husband because they were a good knitter.”
Reuben wasn’t so sure about that. Dawdi was constantly praising Mammi’s knitting.
“It’s better to know how to cook,” Sadie said. “I will have to make you my pineapple upside-down cake. All my friends say it’s the best dessert anyone in Bonduel makes.” She lowered her eyes modestly. “Not that I’m bragging. I would never brag about my cooking skills.”
“I’m sure your friends are telling the truth. It’s not bragging if it’s the truth.”
Sadie smiled in satisfaction. “Getting ready to plant something?”
“Peas.”
“A gute cool-weather crop.”
“Jah. They aren’t likely to freeze even this early in the season.”
Sadie nudged a clod of dirt with her foot. “We plant peas every year. Being the bishop, my dat is always getting called away from home, so my brothers pick the peas, and my mater and sisters and I shell them. We sit out on the porch in the evening and watch the sunset while we shell. Then we freeze them for eating in the winter.”
“I’m sure your dat is busy. My dat gets called away plenty.”
“Do you have a big farm?” Sadie asked.
Reuben shrugged. “Nae, it’s small. My mamm and dat sell essential oils. They’re some of the top distributors in Ohio.”
“So that’s why your dat is so generous.”
Reuben’s smile wilted, and it was only with great effort that he kept it in place. At the gathering, he had wanted Sadie and the other girls to know that his family was rich, and he was glad Fern had been the one to tell them. No one could have accused him of bragging. So why did he suddenly feel embarrassed that Sadie knew?
You feel superior to everyone because your family is so rich.
Just because Fern thought so didn’t make it true. He wasn’t superior to anybody, but he had to admit that sometimes his family’s wealth tempted him to be proud. They did a lot of good in the community, and people were in awe of their generosity. Maybe it wasn’t such a gute thing that Sadie knew about it. Her admiration would only tempt his pride.
“Many families give money to the church,” he said, concentrating on his digging. “We’re not more special than anyone else.”
Did he really believe that? Why had Fern made him doubt himself when he’d never doubted himself before? He wouldn’t have been having this conversation if it weren’t for Fern. She should go back to Sugarcreek and leave him in blessed peace.
“You saved Fern from drowning once,” Sadie said. “And anyone can see that you are an extra special young man. You’re just being humble.”
There. Even Sadie recognized his humility. He wasn’t proud, and if Fern had trouble believing it, that was her problem, not his.
“I try to be a godly man,” he said, hanging his head low over his shovel. Anybody could see how hard he tried just by looking.
“I know you are. That girl in Sugarcreek was a fool for letting you go, but it was our gute fortune, all the same.”
Reuben’s tongue swelled up like a wet sponge. “What girl in Sugarcreek?”
“Your girlfriend,” Sadie said, as if she were discussing the group’s latest knitting project. As if his heartbreak had been as important as a three-year-old newspaper. “She’s obviously not very smart to break up with a wonderful-gute boy like you.”
He gritted his teeth to keep from biting Sadie’s head off. “How do you know about that?”
It was a stupid question. There was only one way she could have known about Linda Sue.
Sadie’s eyes filled with concern, and she took a step closer. He obviously wasn’t doing a very gute job schooling his expression. “We all know about it, and we all agree that it’s nothing to be ashamed of. You’re the minister’s son, and your family is important in the community. We’re on your side, Reuben. Fern started the knitting group so we could cheer you up.”
Reuben was on fire. He couldn’t tell which was hotter, his anger or his embarrassment. Without another word to Sadie, he drove his shovel into the dirt, left it standing there, and stormed to the house.
“Reuben
, I didn’t mean to offend you,” Sadie said as she chased him across the lawn. “We’re all more than happy to help.”
Reuben stomped up the porch steps and shoved open the front door so hard, it crashed against the wall behind it. The members of the knitting group snapped their heads around and stared at him as if he had a moose in tow. He glared at Fern, because she was the one responsible for all his troubles. “I don’t appreciate being talked about behind my back, I don’t need your pity, and I don’t want to be cheered up.”
Fern didn’t even flinch. She expelled an exasperated sigh and had the nerve to smile at him. “We’re trying to knit here, Reuben. And we’ve set certain rules about the timer that not even you can break.”
The fire seemed to consume him. How dare Fern be so flippant with his feelings? Linda Sue had broken his heart, humiliated him in front of his friends, and forced him out of Sugarcreek. He refused to let Fern laugh about it. “The knitting group is over,” he said. “Everybody go home, and don’t bother coming back.”
The twins’ eyes were as round and wide as cereal bowls, and Lorene looked as if she were about to burst into tears and cry all over her half-finished blanket. After hearing Lorene laugh, Reuben had a feeling he didn’t want to hear her cry.
Esther narrowed her eyes. “What about our blankets, Reuben Helmuth?”
“Finish them at home,” Reuben said. “I want you all out.”
A woman who looked to be in her early thirties set down her needles, gave him a look that could have withered Fern’s tomato seedlings, and started gathering up her knitting supplies. “Cum, Eva,” she said. “Some young people never learned their manners.”
The mousy girl sitting next to her immediately stuffed her knitting into a canvas bag, keeping her eyes downcast as if she was terrified to look anywhere but the carpet.
Fern finally lost her smile and replaced it with a look of forbearance, as if Reuben were a two-year-old throwing a tantrum. He wanted to snarl at her. That girl’s feathers couldn’t be ruffled with a heavy-duty rake. “You’ll do no such thing, Dorothy, Eva,” she said. “This isn’t Reuben’s house. He can’t throw us out.”
He doubted himself for half a second, wondering if he had any right to tell people to leave his mammi’s house, but that look on Fern’s face pushed him beyond second thoughts. “This isn’t your house either,” he said. “And I live here.”
Fern stood up, folded her arms, and seemed to dig her heels into the floor. “We’re not leaving.”
Sadie, who had followed Reuben into the house, shook her head. “I don’t care what you say, Fern. I’m going. I won’t stay where I’m not welcome. Besides, I hate to knit. I don’t know why I even said yes to your group.”
Sadie helped Esther put away her yarn, and the two of them stomped hand in hand out of the house. Esther gave Reuben a little grunt of displeasure as she walked past. He pretended not to hear her.
The twins each took one of Fern’s hands. “It’s okay,” Clara—or Carolyn—said. Reuben wasn’t close enough to see any earlobe freckles. “We’ll see you at gmay.”
Fern seemed to droop. “I’m sorry. I’ve never known him to be this rude.”
The stricken look on Fern’s face made Reuben’s confidence trip all over itself before falling flat on its face. Much as he hated to admit it, Fern was right. He’d never been so rude.
“Sometimes Reuben lets his pride get in the way of his heart,” Fern said, talking to the twins, but eyeing Reuben as if he were the most pitiful creature in the world.
He lifted his chin until it nearly pointed at the ceiling. He was doing the right thing. He wouldn’t let Fern make him feel guilty. She only thought she had the moral high ground.
Carolyn—or Clara—nodded as if she knew more about Reuben than he did. “He’ll get over it. It just takes some boys longer to grow out of stupidity.”
Reuben ground his teeth together until they squeaked. He couldn’t stand when people talked about him like he wasn’t in the room. It was what Linda Sue and John had done that last night. And he wasn’t stupid. He was furious, and that was Fern’s fault. He was perfectly justified in dissolving the knitting group, since it was organized solely for him in the first place. Now that he knew what they were up to, there was no need for them to try to cheer him up.
The twins left as if the house was on fire, followed by Lorene and the two women Reuben didn’t know. They all passed Reuben as if he might reach out and pinch them as they went by.
The room emptied surprisingly fast, and Reuben and Fern were left on opposite sides, staring at each other in sharp silence. The silence would be much nicer without skinny Fern standing in it. “You go too, Fern. I never wanted you here.”
Unsmiling, Fern stood where she’d planted herself, but despite everything, her eyes still gleamed with a small spark of sisterly affection. Reuben tried to swallow the hard lump in his throat. He didn’t need to hear Fern say it to know he’d really messed things up this time, but Fern, of all people, wouldn’t be allowed to scold him.
“How could you?” she said.
“How could you?” he said. “You lied to me.”
She pursed her lips together and shook her head. “I never lied. I told the girls you needed cheering up. For all they knew, it was because your dog got run over by a car.”
“You told them Linda Sue broke my heart. Sadie said so herself.”
Fern smiled as if she felt sorry for poor, dumkoff Reuben Helmuth. “Lorene has a pen pal in Sugarcreek. Daniel and Treva’s daughter Ina. Lorene brought a letter to knitting group today and read it to us. There was nothing I could do after that, even if I’d wanted to.”
Ach, du lieva. That one little detail he’d neglected to get made all the difference in the world. Reuben felt so sheepish, he was probably shedding wool, but he knew better than to think Fern was completely blameless. “You wanted the rumors to spread.”
“They’re not rumors, Reuben. They’re the truth, and who cares if people know? You’re so wrapped up in your problems that you can’t see I’m trying to pry you out of the tiny box you’ve put yourself in.”
“But now they know how humiliated I was.”
Fern crossed the room, took Reuben by the hand, and led him to sit at the table. Her touch made him feel worse and worse. “That’s what I mean about a little box, Reuben. Lorene read her letter, and everyone agreed that Linda Sue was deerich for breaking up with you. No one felt sorry for you. No one thought you’d been humiliated. They all talked about how much they like you and want to see you happy.” She sat back in her chair and studied him with those chocolate-brown eyes, truly concerned that he’d just made a complete fool of himself. “They probably don’t think so anymore.”
The balloon that was Reuben’s confidence withered until it was a wrinkly little blob of rubber. When had he lost all sense of reason? His stomach sank to his toes, and the bile rose in his throat. He propped his elbow on the table and buried his face in his hand. “Ach, Fern. What have I done?”
She wrapped her fingers around his wrist. “It’s going to be okay.”
“Nae, it isn’t. I was rude, and now they hate me.”
“You’re hurting. We all understand you’re hurting.”
“I’ll have to move to Montana and start over again,” he said.
“Maybe not. The knitting group can be saved.” She pulled his hand from his eyes and stared at him until he surrendered and met her gaze. “I’ll help you fix it, if you want me to.”
Reuben breathed out a long sigh. “Why would you want to help me? Isn’t your first loyalty to your bruder?”
“It is,” she said. Her nose crinkled when she smiled, but she wasn’t mocking him. “But how silly of you to think I’m being disloyal to John by helping you. I want you two to be friends again and so does John.”
Reuben’s throat felt gravelly, as if he’d swallowed a handful of sharp remorse. “Did you know John was in love with Linda Sue?”
Her eyes pooled with her own regre
t. “Not at first, but at Communion last fall I saw something that made me wonder. Linda’s eyes followed John everywhere he went, and he seemed to orbit around her like steel to a magnet. He knew how mad I was at him for keeping it from you, but he didn’t have the courage to tell you. In December I threatened to tell you myself if he couldn’t do it. He would have done anything to save your friendship.”
Reuben grunted. “Jah. Sure he would have.”
“But is there any use crying over spilt milk?”
“Right now, I want to know how I can fix the knitting group before they have me shunned and run out of town.”
Fern lifted an eyebrow as if she thought he was being ridiculous. “No one is going to shun you, but a few of them might give you the cold shoulder.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m not going to stay long enough to find out.”
Fern stood up and pulled three of Mammi’s ginger snaps from the cookie jar. She poured a glass of milk and brought the milk and cookies to the table. “It’s going to be okay, big bruder. Eat a cookie.”
Reuben picked up a cookie and bit into it, savoring the satisfying scrape against his teeth. Nothing was as comforting as one of Mammi’s homemade cookies. “You should be happy. I’ve been dragged to the depths of humility. You can’t accuse me of pride anymore.”
Fern gave him that you’re-being-ridiculous look again. “You’re confusing regret with humiliation, Reuben. And you should regret how you treated the knitting group. It was horrid. But you can ask forgiveness and make amends.” She stole a drink of his milk. “And contrary to what you believe, I’m not happy when something bad happens to you.” She turned her face from him. “You just ruined everything. It makes me want to cry.” Her eyes turned moist, and her sniffle sounded very much as if she was thinking about crying.
Reuben didn’t like that at all. “Hey, Fern. Hey,” he coaxed, nudging her chin with his finger so she’d turn her eyes to him. He gave her a half smile. She tried to smile back. “Have a cookie?”
She giggled and wiped at her eyes. “Nae, denki.”
“I’m the one who just cleared the room with my temper. If there are any tears to be shed, I should be the one doing it.”
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