Return to Huckleberry Hill

by Jennifer Beckstrand

  Sadie folded her arms and leaned against the wall behind her as some sort of dam seemed to break. “I was just trying to be friendly, and you almost bit my head off. When we left Huckleberry Hill, I almost cried, I was so upset. Esther says we should never speak to you again and I’ve half a mind to do it.”

  “It wasn’t your fault,” Reuben said. “I take full responsibility.”

  Sadie was just getting started. “The knitting group was a very bad idea.” She looked at Fern. “I know you meant well, but Esther can’t knit, and the timer didn’t work half the time, and Dorothy Miller thinks she knows everything when I’m just as gute a knitter as she is. Esther is coming over tonight, and we’re going to burn our blankets to protest that you can’t yell at us like that. It’s nothing for Esther to burn her blanket. She barely has five rows, and her stitches look like a bowl of pink spaghetti. My blanket was almost done. Any baby would have been proud to be wrapped in one of my blankets, and I’m not bragging. Clara told me so herself.”

  Fern decided to rescue him. She was obviously better equipped to handle a very irritated girl. She slid her arm around Sadie’s shoulder and led her to sit on one of the steps. “You have brothers, don’t you, Sadie?”

  Sadie smirked and looked away, as if it was a painful subject. “Jah, I have brothers. Joseph Elmer hogs the food at dinner and teases me all the time, even when Mamm gets after him.”

  “Then you know how boys can be. One minute they pull your hair and the next minute they’re helping you lift heavy milk cans. Sometimes, we just have to forgive them for being so thick, because we love them anyway.”

  Sadie shrugged. “I suppose you’re right.”

  Fern smiled at Reuben as if she didn’t think he was so incorrigible after all. “Reuben is a wonderful-nice boy who wishes he hadn’t lost his temper.”

  “I’d give anything to take those five minutes back,” he said.

  Fern glanced at him as a signal that maybe he should keep his mouth shut. He would mess things up, and she could handle things just fine.

  He buttoned his lip.

  “Reuben thinks Linda Sue humiliated him. You know how some boys get when their pride is threatened.”

  Sadie nodded. “Joseph Elmer won’t ever admit he’s wrong. He’ll take it to his grave that I can run to the far pasture and back faster than he can.”

  Fern nodded. “So maybe you could see it in your heart to give Reuben another chance.”

  “Maybe,” Sadie said.

  “He wants to make it up to you,” Fern said.

  Reuben nodded. “I want to make it up to everyone.”

  Sadie stared at Reuben for another second or two as if she were deciding how many chances to give him. “Do you?”

  He knelt down on one knee so he could be closer to her and gave her the smile that never failed to charm the girls—old or young. “I do. Tell me what you want me to do.”

  Sadie’s lips twitched as if she was trying not to smile. He’d gotten to her. He could see her melting before his eyes, the lines of reproof softening around her mouth, her eyes pooling like bowls of mush. He added a wink to sweeten the offer. No girl could resist “the wink.”

  “Well . . .” she said, looking at Fern and then back to Reuben. “I suppose I should be a gute Christian and show forth forgiveness. But don’t tell Esther.”

  Reuben couldn’t hold back a genuine smile. He really wanted the whole knitting group to like him again. “Denki, Sadie. You don’t know how much that means to me.”

  Sadie returned his smile with a brilliant one of her own. “I shouldn’t have let it upset me. Everybody does things they regret.”

  “Some of us worse than others,” Reuben said, taking Sadie’s hands, standing up, and pulling her with him. He then reached out a hand and tugged Fern to her feet. She gave him a half smile—probably meaning to scold him for winking at Sadie. Some girls took the winking the wrong way. But he’d had to do it. He’d been desperate.

  His heart swelled like dough in a bread pan at the feel of Fern’s hand briefly in his. Fern wasn’t the least bit cross, but she always gave him her opinion, even without saying anything. He liked how contrary she could be sometimes.

  “I really don’t want to burn that blanket,” Sadie said. “What would the babies do?”

  Reuben shoved his hands into his pockets. “So what can I do to make amends for being so ornery?”

  Sadie twisted one of her kapp strings and batted her eyelashes. “Ach, you don’t need to do nothing. You’ve apologized and that’s enough for me.”

  “You have such a kind heart,” Reuben said, “but I won’t feel right until I’ve done something to show how sorry I really am. Isn’t there something I could do for you?”

  Sadie curled one side of her mouth. “I hate to even ask. . . .”

  “Go ahead. I really want to help.”

  “Ach, vell, Joseph Elmer and I are supposed to paint the picket fence this week. You could come help if you want, but don’t feel like you have to.”

  Reuben nodded. “That is a wonderful-gute idea. I would love to help.”

  Sadie seemed more than a little pleased. “Okay. Joseph Elmer will say I just want to get out of painting, but he can talk all he wants. I don’t care.” She raised her brows. “Can you come tomorrow morning at nine?”

  Reuben looked at Fern. “What do you say, Fern? Do you want to come help?”

  Both Fern and Sadie seemed to wilt. “Fern doesn’t have to come,” Sadie said, sort of stumbling over her words. “You’re the one who got mad at the knitting group.”

  “You’ll have to paint the fence without me,” Fern said. “I’ve got other things I need to do.”

  Reuben furrowed his brow. “What?”

  “Just other things.”

  Sadie recovered her enthusiasm. “I don’t mind painting with just the three of us, and Joseph Elmer might still be milking at nine. We can paint it ourselves.” She took a step closer. “Just you and me.” She nibbled nervously on her bottom lip. “But don’t tell Esther.”

  * * *

  They walked off the road so far north that Reuben wondered if Esther lived in Canada. In the middle of the woods in Canada. He stopped and peered through the trees. Fern turned around and watched him. “How do they get to church without a lane?” he asked.

  Fern grinned and shrugged. “Maybe they like to walk.”

  “Through five feet of snow in the winter?”

  They only took a few dozen more steps when Fern pointed ahead. “There it is. Not much farther now.”

  When they hadn’t been able to find a lane leading to Esther’s house, Reuben had parked Dawdi’s buggy on the side of the road, and they’d started walking. It was going to be dark soon. He’d rather not hike back through the woods at night. Lord willing, Esther wouldn’t want a long apology.

  He caught up with Fern and pointed out a tree root so she wouldn’t trip over it. He didn’t want her to fall and hurt herself, especially if it meant he’d have to carry her back to the buggy. “Why can’t you come with me to Sadie’s tomorrow?”

  She never seemed to be without that smile. “Do you want me to?”

  “Of course I want you to. You know how to say things so I don’t offend everyone in sight.”

  “You’ve never had that problem before.”

  “I seem to have lost my ability to make anyone like me,” he said.

  Fern cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, I’d say you are as charming as ever with the girls. You just have to get your confidence back.” She stopped and pinned him with a reproachful eye. “Although after a little awkwardness, you seemed just fine at Sadie’s.”

  “Winking at Sadie might have been a little fresh, but it did the trick. She forgave me.”

  “And you filled her with all sorts of expectations.” Her smile faded slightly. “Are you prepared to meet them?”

  “What expectations? I didn’t promise anything.”

  “I know winking or smiling at a girl doesn’t mean anything t
o you, but she might think you like her. She might get her hopes up only to find out that you have no affection for her at all.” Her faded smile died completely.

  “Hey. Hey,” he said, nudging her chin with his finger. “It’s okay. I don’t think Sadie will read quite so much into a wink.”

  She immediately reattached her smile, and he knew she was okay because a mischievous gleam sparked to life in her eyes. “You silly goose. Of course she will. Most girls are like that, and you are very gute-looking. It’s just a friendly warning.”

  “You think I’m handsome?”

  “And too big for your britches.” She started walking double-time toward the house.

  He jogged to catch up with her. “You still haven’t told me why you can’t come to Sadie’s with me tomorrow.”

  Her lips curled into a tease. “You don’t want to paint the fence by yourself?”

  “The job will go faster with two. Three if Sadie helps. Why can’t you come?”

  Her steps faltered only briefly. Or maybe he’d imagined it. “I got a job Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays.”

  “Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays?”

  “So I wouldn’t miss the knitting group. Thanks to you, that was completely unnecessary.”

  Fern’s family needed every penny she and her siblings could bring in. It couldn’t have been easy for her to be away from home. It didn’t surprise Reuben at all that Fern had found a job. It did surprise him that she hadn’t told him about it.

  He jogged backward, facing her as she pressed forward toward Esther’s house. “Why didn’t you tell me? What kind of a job?”

  “You never asked,” Fern said. “And it’s a secret. I’m working for the police as a spy.”

  “You are not. What job?”

  She shook her head and trudged persistently ahead. “It’s just a job, and I’m getting paid well, and I’m not telling you.”

  She gave him an aggravating smile, and he knew he wasn’t going to get anything out of her. She often made him want to tear his hair out in frustration. “Well. Then. Spend some of that hard-earned money on food, why don’t you?” He’d never known Fern to be a picky eater, but she didn’t like Mammi’s cooking. Maybe she didn’t like Barbara Schmucker’s cooking all that much either. “You’ll waste away if you’re picky.”

  She pursed her lips to stifle a smile. “I don’t particularly like oysters. That doesn’t make me picky.”

  That was true enough. He’d seen her eat seven different kinds of pizza, fried tomatoes, and Brussels sprouts swimming in butter. She loved Big Macs at McDonald’s, and she always cleaned her plate at mealtime. Maybe she was too busy to eat, what with the knitting group and a job. It kind of irritated him that she didn’t take better care of herself.

  Esther’s house sat in heavy shade amid a forest of trees. Three forsythia bushes bloomed bright yellow, like campfires against the house. Reuben heard a comfortingly low hum and turned to see two beehives standing in a sunny clearing not twenty feet away. Esther seemed to live in the middle of nowhere.

  The house faced south, and off to the left a lane meandered through the woods. That was the way they should have come, but Reuben had no idea where the lane ended up.

  Reuben knocked on the door. Fern widened her eyes, sufficiently impressed by his show of bravery. He had a feeling that asking Esther’s forgiveness was going to be much less pleasant than a visit with Sadie, but he would face whatever Esther threw at him. And he wouldn’t wink at her under any circumstances—unless it was an emergency.

  The door sounded like it hadn’t been oiled in about forty years. Reuben could practically hear the rust flaking from the hinges and falling to the floor when the door opened.

  Well . . . it didn’t exactly open. He could see Esther just inside the door, but she barely cracked it four inches, as if she was expecting a band of robbers. Maybe she thought Reuben was going to yell at her or expected Fern to march into her house and criticize her knitting. “What do you want?” she said, bringing her mouth close to the crack so they could hear her better.

  Reuben blew air out from between his lips. It was plain that Esther was the resentful type. He’d have to be patient and sweet and tricky. “Esther,” he said, “I’ve come to apologize for how rude I was to you this morning.”

  Esther puckered her lips. They were the only part of her face Reuben could see very well. “You don’t need to apologize to me. I’ve got a thick skin yet. Go apologize to Sadie. She nearly cried her eyes out after we left. We’re burning our blankets tonight just to prove how mad we are.”

  Reuben glanced at Fern. Sadie said not to tell Esther about the fence or the blanket. Was he not supposed to tell about the apology either? “I . . . I already apologized to Sadie.”

  Esther opened the door three more inches. It screamed in protest. “Why did you go to Sadie’s first? Do you like her better?”

  Reuben had no answer for that, but Fern did. “Sadie lives closer to Huckleberry Hill,” she said, and Reuben did the calculations in his head. He didn’t think that was exactly true, but Esther’s house certainly seemed farther when you had to walk. Maybe Esther wouldn’t think about it too hard.

  Esther’s mouth tightened resentfully, and she narrowed her eyes in Fern’s direction. “You should have let me go first in the rotation. Sadie’s gotten more than her fair share of time with him.”

  Reuben didn’t know why Esther was turning her irritation on Fern, but he wasn’t going to let her do it. “I don’t want to talk about Sadie,” he said.

  Esther tilted her head and opened the door another inch. “You don’t? Why not?”

  “Because I came to see you and ask you to forgive me for how rude I was.”

  “You were mean. When you first came to Bonduel, I told Sadie not to get her hopes up. She gets overly excited about a gute face. But you don’t fool me, Reuben Helmuth.”

  “I don’t want to fool anybody,” Reuben said, trying to keep his frustration from showing on his face. Maybe he should try the wink.

  Esther stuck out her chin. “Gute, because I won’t be fooled.”

  Was it his imagination, or was that gap between the door and the doorjamb getting wider? “I know you have a gute heart, Esther, and you’ll forgive me if you can.”

  “I always give a boy the benefit of the doubt when he deserves it. But you did nearly make me cry my eyes out this morning.”

  Reuben nodded earnestly. “I feel terrible about that, and I want to make amends for being so rude. What can I do?”

  Esther wrapped her thumb around her chin and tapped her lips with her index finger. “You want to make amends?”

  She wanted him to grovel. He’d grovel. He had no one to blame but himself. “More than anything.”

  “Maybe there’s hope for you yet,” she said.

  “I hope so.”

  She opened the door a tiny bit farther and gazed up at the sky. “It will be dark soon. You can come back tomorrow and wash my dog. He smells like feet.”

  He couldn’t come back tomorrow. He was helping Sadie paint a fence, and Esther wasn’t supposed to know about it. Besides, when he came back to Esther’s, he was coming back with Fern. Something told him it would be very unpleasant being alone with Esther and her stinky dog. He looked at Fern. “Wednesday?” he mouthed.

  Fern gave him a sweet grin and a slight nod, then turned to Esther. “It wonders me if we could come on Wednesday.”

  Esther’s lips drooped, and her forehead lined up like a freshly plowed field. Her frown went all the way to her scalp and probably beyond. “My dog smells really bad.” She squinted like an old man who’d lost his glasses. “And so does your sin, Reuben Helmuth.”

  Oy, anyhow. Esther wanted him crawling in the dirt. But he had to keep reminding himself that he deserved it. No matter that he was rich or pious or the son of a minister, he needed to repent. Fern smiled at him as if she knew he could do it. She’d see just how humble he could be. He slid his straw hat off his head and lowered hi
s eyes as he fingered the brim. “I want to wash your dog better than he’s ever been washed.”

  “It’s a girl,” Esther said.

  “Better than she’s ever been washed,” Reuben said. “But I can’t come until Wednesday. Can you ever forgive me for that?”

  Okay. Maybe he was laying it on a little thick, but short of winking at her, he didn’t know what else to do.

  The lines around Esther’s lips seemed to relax. “Come on Wednesday at noon. Come hungry, and don’t be late”

  Come hungry? Okay. Anything Esther wanted. “Okay. Wednesday at noon.”

  “But it might not be good enough,” Esther said.

  Reuben bent his head closer and raised his eyebrows. “What?”

  “Just washing my dog might not be enough to make up for all the pain and hurt you’ve caused me. I’ve been crying all morning, you know.”

  He swallowed whatever lump of pride was still stuck in his throat. “I’ll keep coming back until you say it’s enough.”

  She might have thought about maybe cracking a smile. “Gute. I have three dogs and two horses.”

  Fern pointed to the lane that seemed to wander farther into the woods. “Does this lane hook up with the road? Reuben can spend more time washing your dog if he doesn’t have to walk.”

  Esther eyed both of them as if they were incredibly dumm. “It connects with North Street right past our mailbox. Just look for the giant mailbox with a green ribbon tied on the post. Mamm says that mailbox could hold a hundred-pound hog. You can’t miss it.”

  “Denki, Esther,” Fern said, with a genuine smile. “You are a wonderful-nice girl to help Reuben out like this.”

  Esther’s lip twitched smugly. “I’ve always tried to be gute to my fellow man and woman. I have a very forgiving nature when people say they’re sorry.”

  “Denki,” Reuben said. “I am very grateful.”

  Esther swung the door closed until all they could see was her right eye. “Don’t tell Sadie,” she said.