Esther shrugged, as if she didn’t know how to argue with that. “Okay. Come on Friday at nine and don’t be late. I hate it when people don’t get here when they say they’re going to get here.”
“Maybe we can clip the other dogs before we wash them.”
Esther tilted her head to one side. “That sounds like a gute idea. We can clip together while Fern washes.”
Fern sighed to herself. She’d washed enough pigs in her day. She could wash Esther’s dogs, no matter how bad they smelled or how wet she got or how badly her knees ached. She’d do it for Reuben. She was already far from home, eating tuna fish for dinner almost every night. What was one more sacrifice for his happiness?
More than anything, she wanted him to be happy. It was why she was in Bonduel in the first place, to convince Reuben to forgive John, forget Linda Sue, and come home. His smiles gave her reason to hope.
He needed to come home.
Reuben dumped the water from the washtub and Fern rinsed it with the hose. Reuben took both the hose and the washtub to the small barn behind Esther’s house. Esther’s dat worked construction and didn’t do any farming to speak of. They had a barn to keep the horses and the cow but little cleared land. Fern glanced at the trees in the near vicinity of Esther’s house. Holes dotted the bark of the surrounding maples. It looked as if the Shirks tapped their trees for sap. Fern’s family did the same thing on the few sugar maples on their property to make maple syrup. Every little bit of income helped.
By the time Reuben returned from the barn, Fern’s teeth were chattering. Her overall state of dampness and the raw, chilly taste of spring in the air was a bad combination. It would be a very cold ride in the open-air buggy for both of them, and they still had several more visits to make.
Reuben tapped his straw hat onto his head, still dripping from Sweetie Pie’s attack. He smiled at Esther as if he’d spent a very pleasant time in her company. “We will see you on Friday then.”
Esther seemed to grow grumpier the closer the time came for Reuben to leave. “I hope you don’t think that washing my dogs is going to make full amends for yelling at me. You can plan on many more chores before I’ll see fit to offer my forgiveness.”
“Of course,” Reuben said, more cheerfully than Fern would have answered. “I want you to be satisfied.”
Esther was the youngest in her family, which partially explained her eagerness to give Reuben several jobs. She probably had responsibility for most of the chores around the house. Of course, it was plain that getting Reuben to do her chores was simply a side benefit of having him at her house so she could spend time with him. Fern had to give Esther credit. It was a gute plan.
“You really made a mess of washing my dog,” Esther said. “I hope you’re better with the horses.”
Reuben sidled close to Fern and took the bottle of soap from her hand. She’d been so wrapped up in his smiles that she’d forgotten she still held it. He handed the soap to Esther. “Do you have a blanket I could borrow?”
Esther frowned and shuffled her feet back and forth when Reuben got close. “Now?”
“I promise I’ll bring it back on Friday.”
“Okay, I suppose.” Esther ducked into her house and returned with a gray blanket that had to be made of wool or some other itchy material. She handed it to Reuben, who thanked her as if she’d given him one of her kidneys.
Fern hopped onto the buggy seat and watched Esther watch Reuben climb up beside her with the precious blanket over his arm. He settled in his seat, then draped the blanket over Fern’s shoulders. Despite Reuben’s ice-cold fingers, warmth tingled across her skin when his hand brushed against her arm. His eyes seemed extra bright against his ruddy cheeks as he tucked the blanket up around her chin. “There,” he said. “That should help a little.”
A hint of something sour like pickle juice traveled across Esther’s face. “You’re getting my blanket wet.”
“Lord willing, I will bring it back completely dry,” Reuben said.
“You are very kind to let me use your blanket,” Fern said. She glanced at Reuben and cleared her throat. Her voice sounded rough all of a sudden.
Reuben waved to Esther one last time. “See you Friday,” he said, as he snapped the reins and prodded Felty’s horse to a walk.
“Don’t be late,” Esther called. Did she have that tight of a schedule?
The horse pulled the buggy down the bumpy lane that meandered through the woods as if it led nowhere in particular. “It doesn’t seem fair that you got the soaking, and I get the blanket,” Fern said.
“You were shivering so hard back there, I felt the earth move.”
Fern grinned. It wasn’t fair, but she was glad she had it. These days, she never felt warm enough. Still trembling violently, she clenched her teeth to keep them from knocking into each other. She’d rather not need to see a dentist.
He glanced at her, his face a mixture of amusement and concern. “You need to get your head warm. Have you got a dry scarf?”
Fern snaked her hand from beneath the warmth of the itchy blanket and slid the scarf off her head. Reuben’s eyes wandered briefly to her hair before he looked away and seemed to concentrate hard on the lane ahead. Fern had never minded being a redhead, even though John taunted her that most boys found the color hesslich, homely. She’d never let it bother her. John had no room to be smug. His hair was flaming carrot orange while hers was more the color of dark maple leaves in late fall. Reuben had never teased her about her hair, but that didn’t mean he liked it. And right now, for some ridiculous reason, it mattered very much that he did.
Self-consciously, she fingered the errant strands of hair at the base of her bun. Did Reuben think red hair was pretty? And why in the world did it matter?
Still her heart sank at the thought that Reuben preferred black or brown hair to red. Golden-blond Sadie Yoder hair was probably his favorite color. Who could compete with blue eyes and blond hair? She cleared her throat and pushed away any thought of feeling sorry for herself. Who even wanted to compete?
Fern reached into her apron pocket and pulled out the prayer covering she had put there this morning. She’d brought it because they were planning on visiting some of the other members of the knitting group today, and a visit in a scarf wouldn’t do. Since it had been in her apron pocket, the kapp was also a little damp but much drier than the scarf. After removing the pins she’d stuck into the kapp, she placed it on her head, tucking in the hair as best she could. With skill born of years of practice, she pinned it securely into place.
She tugged the blanket up around her ears. Esther’s blanket was almost as prickly as Esther was. The rough fibers tickled Fern’s face, and she crinkled her nose to avoid a sneeze. “Do you want to share?” she said, knowing he’d say no, but thinking she should offer anyway.
He glanced at her again and raised his hat. “I’d rather air dry. It’s quite refreshing with the wind blowing through my hair.”
“It’s not doing much blowing. I think it’s frozen to your head.”
They reached the end of the lane that connected with the country road that led straight into Bonduel. Reuben looked right, then left. “Do you want me to take you back to the Schmuckers’ house to change clothes? I don’t want you to catch cold.”
She absolutely did not want him to take her back to the Schmuckers’ house to change. The less he knew about her situation there, the better. “It’s almost half an hour out of our way, and if you want to see the rest of the knitting group today, we’ll have to go a little damp.” She sniffed the air. “And a little stinky.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Are you talking about me?”
“You smell like wet dog.”
“Will it make a difference?”
“Dorothy probably won’t let you in her house.”
“It might be the shortest apology ever.” Reuben took a deep breath as if bracing himself for bad news, or at least burdensome news. “Where to?”
With her teeth st
ill clamped together, Fern pointed in the direction of Eva’s house. “Cheer up. I think we’re past the worst of it.”
Reuben tapped his finger to his lips. “Let’s see. Eva hasn’t ever talked to me before, so she’s not likely to talk to me ever again. The twins will shoot dirty looks at me from two different directions, and Dorothy thinks I have no manners. I can’t say as I agree that we’re past the worst of it.”
“You’re not going to chicken out on me, are you?”
He grew momentarily serious, as if such an idea were unthinkable. “I wouldn’t do that. I’m not like some people. I have to make this right.”
Fern pretended to be interested in some yellow wildflowers along the side of the road. She knew exactly what Reuben thought of “some people,” but it was good of him not to say her brother’s name out loud. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Ach, vell, you’re coming along nicely with Esther.”
“Coming along nicely with Esther? She criticized the way I filled the washtub. I don’t think I’m ever going to satisfy her.”
Fern shook her head. “I wouldn’t be too sure. I think she likes you.”
Reuben pumped his eyebrows up and down and plastered a mischievous look on his face. “They all like me.”
Fern loved that silly grin of his. “You are insufferable.” She cleared her throat. “For sure and certain, Sadie likes you. Is she happy with her fence?” Fern watched Reuben out of the corner of her eye. Maybe she’d be able to tell if he liked blond hair better than red by the expression on his face.
His smile was too wide, and Fern thought it was extremely unfair that boys were always drawn to the blond girls. “She likes her fence so much, she invited me back to paint her chicken coop.”
Chicken coop? Whoever heard of painting a chicken coop? “Did she say how many things you have to paint before she’ll forgive you?”
“Ach, she’s already forgiven me, but I want her to like me. She’s the bishop’s daughter. If Sadie decides she likes me, then I know I can fit in here. All die youngie will accept me if Sadie’s my friend.”
Fern eyed him with a scold on her lips. “I’m sure Sadie would be happy to know you’re only painting her chicken coop so she’ll let you into her circle of friends.”
He nudged her with his elbow. “It’s not just that, Fernly. She’s wonderful pretty, and she laughs at all my jokes.”
“What boy could resist that?” Fern said, giving her voice a lighthearted lilt, even though she suddenly felt dull and heavy. It wasn’t fair. What was so special about blond girls and bishops’ daughters anyway? Her shoulders drooped. She knew exactly what was so special to Reuben. He craved importance and acceptance, and he thought they were the same thing. Nothing would make him happier than to marry the bishop’s daughter and be the richest, most important, best-loved man in the community.
“Sadie helped me paint the fence, and then she gave me a pineapple upside-down cake as a thank-you. She’s a very gute cook.”
Fern didn’t realize she was strangling the blanket until she looked down at her hands. Her knuckles had turned white. Loosening her grip, she sat up straighter. It was wunderbarr that Reuben had found someone to take his mind off Linda Sue. Maybe Sadie would make him happier than he’d ever been with Linda Sue. If Reuben was happy, Fern was happy. She sighed.
Reuben glanced in her direction again. “Are you okay? I can still turn around. You need dry clothes.”
Fern shrugged the blanket off her shoulders and shook off whatever listlessness had suddenly overtaken her. “It won’t do any good trying to stall for time. You’re going to see the rest of the knitting group today whether you like it or not.”
A doubtful grin formed on his lips. “Okay,” he said. “But don’t blame me if you catch pneumonia.”
Fern unpinned her black apron, slipped it off, and raised it in her hand like a flag. It flapped in the wind behind her as Reuben drove down the road.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m letting my apron dry out. At least one of us should be presentable when we show up at Eva’s house.”
“It won’t matter. She’s not likely to say a word.”
Eva’s house was right off the main road, with two large warehouses and a sizable garden behind and to the side. Eva’s dat fixed plumbing and refrigeration systems on Englischers’ motor homes. They had a phone inside one of the warehouses and a shed outfitted with two solar panels to heat water for their home.
“It doesn’t look as if they use the front much,” Reuben said, as he pulled into their wide driveway.
“Let’s try the back first.”
Reuben parked the buggy behind the house. They could hear someone hammering away at something inside one of the warehouses.
Fern jumped down from the buggy and pinned her apron into place. Reuben came around beside her and peered hesitantly toward the house. “Do you think she’ll talk to me?”
“You’re too handsome. She might faint.”
He scrunched his lips to one side of his face and rolled his eyes. “That’s not what I mean.”
Fern pressed her lips together as she saw three faces staring at them from the upstairs window. “In truth, you’ll probably scare her to death.”
“What should I do?”
Fern expelled a puff of air from between her lips. “Vell, it’s your apology to make, but it wonders me if I should talk to her first.”
Reuben nodded eagerly. “I’ll wait right here, and when Eva says it’s okay, wave me over.”
“Wave you over? What does that mean?”
“You know. Motion for me to come, and I’ll come.”
Fern couldn’t stifle the grin that wanted to escape. “You mean you’ll take orders from Fern King?”
He narrowed his eyes in mock irritation. “Don’t get uppity about it.”
Fern marched up to Eva’s back door and knocked firmly three times. They obviously knew she was coming, and she heard what sounded like a stampede of cows inside. They were racing down the stairs all together. She hoped no one tripped in their haste.
A stocky, unkempt boy, probably a little younger than Fern, slowly opened the door. His round face was pocked with acne scars, and he had Eva’s chestnut-brown hair and hazel eyes. His face was bright red. Had he been stricken with a case of heat rash? Or perhaps he had overexerted himself tromping down those stairs.
She suddenly felt embarrassed that she had probably seen him at gmay but hadn’t really noticed him. Her only excuse was that she had been squarely focused on Reuben for so many weeks, she’d barely made an effort to get to know anybody else.
Of course, Eva’s brother looked like someone who didn’t want to be noticed, even if Fern had tried.
He stood at the threshold with his gaze downcast, as if completely unable to meet Fern’s eye or say one word to the girl at his door. Behind him, four younger children stood staring silently at Fern like statues in a museum. They had planted themselves among the muddy boots lined up along the wall and between the coats and hats that hung on hooks above their heads. They stood with their backs against the wall, blending in with the boots and coats as if they were each assigned to a place like one of the sweaters. The mudroom, which was more like a mud hall, ended at a closed door, which probably led to the kitchen.
Fern paused, thinking that someone might ask her in. Nope. The young man seemed more likely to quietly shut the door on her than invite her into the house. She would have to take matters into her own hands. “Hello,” she said, flashing her I’m-not-going-to-bite-you smile, which was very much like her regular smile with a little extra honey and syrup. “I’m Fern King, a friend of Eva’s.”
“Jah,” he said, before clamping his lips together as if he were shocked that such a thing had come out of his mouth.
“Is Eva home?”
The boy, undoubtedly Eva’s brother, looked back at one of the children standing against the wall, and she immediately scooted down the hall and out the door at the end of it. Was she
going to fetch Eva? It made sense that if no one in your family said anything, you’d have to learn how to use hand signals and the smallest of gestures to communicate. Since it seemed that none of them said more than absolutely necessary, the Rabers probably had their own unspoken language just to make things easier.
Fern glanced over her shoulder at Reuben, who leaned against the buggy with his arms folded across his chest. He gave her a bewildered expression, as if he were afraid Fern might be standing on the porch until dinnertime. She smiled back and tried not to laugh. She seldom saw Reuben at a loss for what to do.
Never lifting his gaze from the floor, Eva’s brother shifted his weight from one foot to another. Would he be more comfortable if she tried to have a conversation with him or simply stayed quiet? She wasn’t sure about him, but the silence was too much for her. “Are you Eva’s brother?”
He nodded. “Johnny.”
“I have a bruder named John. Isn’t that wunderbarr?” She didn’t really know if the fact that John and Johnny shared names was wunderbarr, but she felt the need to have enough enthusiasm for both of them.
Without a word—well, Fern hadn’t expected anything else—Johnny turned and disappeared down the hall, leaving the door open and his siblings holding up the wall to his left. With great effort, Fern held her smile firmly in place. Johnny had obviously had enough small talk.
Of the Raber children who remained, one—a boy in his early teens—faithfully studied his fingernails, tapping his toe as if keeping time with the seconds dragging by. The two girls—who looked younger and less lively than Johnny—watched Fern with interest, but couldn’t seem to work up the courage to say anything to her.
“I’m Fern,” she said, hoping someone, anyone, would speak. Her visit was beginning to feel like a funeral.
The taller of the two girls managed a faint smile. “I’m Martha, and this is Toby and Priscilla.”
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