Sure enough, Clara’s—or Carolyn’s—smile faltered when she caught sight of Reuben. He gave her a halfhearted, humble, I’m-so-ashamed-of-myself wave and tried to look contrite—not that he had to try very hard. He really was sorry for how he’d behaved and for sure and certain wanted to make things right.
“Fern! It’s so gute to see you.” Clara—or Carolyn—stepped through the small door to the side of the window and gave Fern a warm hug. She glanced at Reuben almost as an afterthought. “And, Reuben, you are always welcome to buy anything you want.”
“Denki, Clara,” he said, hoping against hope he’d chosen the right name. Nothing impressed a girl so much as if you remembered her name.
Fern’s eyes danced in amusement. “It’s Carolyn, Reuben. Look at the eyes.”
Reuben cringed. He’d have to learn to tell the difference between the twins if he didn’t want to be continually offending them. Although, something told him they didn’t get offended easily. Clara and Carolyn seemed like level-headed, reasonable girls who wouldn’t hold a grudge. They were both exceptionally kind to Fern, whom they hadn’t known very long, and that told Reuben all he needed to know about what kind of girls they were.
Carolyn laughed. “You look as if your puppy just died, Reuben. It’s okay. People mix us up all the time.” She studied Reuben’s face and drew in the corners of her mouth as if she was trying not to smile. “So,” she said, lacing her fingers together, “you’ve come to apologize.”
Reuben glanced behind him as if someone might be looking over his shoulder giving Carolyn all the answers. “How did you know?”
Carolyn let her smile escape. “I saw Sadie and Esther yesterday. Separately, of course. Sadie doesn’t know that you have apologized to Esther, and Esther doesn’t know that Sadie hasn’t burned her blanket. Clara and I figured you’d work your way around to us yet.”
Might as well get to it, then. “I’m really sorry about how I acted.”
Carolyn swatted away his apology. “Wait and say it to both of us at once. Clara wouldn’t want to be left out.” She went back through the small door to the candy kitchen and cupped her hands around her mouth. “Clara, come down. It’s Fern and Reuben.” A dimple pressed deeply into her cheek as she picked up a blue porcelain bowl and passed it through the open window. “Have a taste. It’s white chocolate and almonds.”
Reuben grinned at Fern. He was going to get his sample after all. He took a piece of the silky white chocolate from the bowl and popped the whole thing into his mouth. It melted like soft butter on a hot day, leaving a crunchy almond and a sweet, creamy taste on his tongue. “Mmm, this is appeditlich. I could eat this for breakfast, supper, and dinner everyday.”
Carolyn seemed pleased with his praise but not overly impressed with Reuben in general. “The peanut-butter-chocolate drops are still the most popular.”
“They’re my favorite,” Fern said, licking a hint of white chocolate from her fingertips.
Carolyn came back through the door, retrieved two tubs of peanut-butter-chocolate drops from the table, and handed one to Reuben and one to Fern. “Fern, yours is free. Reuben, you have to pay.”
Reuben let his mouth fall open in mock indignation. “Would it make any difference if you let me apologize first?”
Carolyn’s lips twitched with a hint of amusement. “Nae. Someone with as big a mouth as you should pay. It will keep you humble.”
Fern tried to press the tub into Carolyn’s hand. “I can’t take these. That’s four dollars of lost profit.”
“Four dollars?” Reuben said, acting as if Carolyn had just asked for his firstborn child. “You expect me to pay four dollars?”
Carolyn folded her arms and stood in front of the table so Fern couldn’t put the peanut-butter-chocolate drops back on the stack. “No arguing. I know how things are.” She gave Fern a pointed look, as if the two of them knew something Reuben didn’t.
Reuben pulled some money out of his pocket, muttering under his breath with a tease in his tone that told Carolyn he wasn’t really all that put out about it. Fern had said that the Yutzys’ peanut-butter-chocolate drops were delicious. He didn’t mind paying for them. He’d been planning on buying something, just to soften up the Yutzy sisters for his apology.
He counted out his money and laid the bills in Carolyn’s hand with exaggerated care. “Here’s eight dollars for both Fern’s and mine.”
Fern threw back her head and seemed to be growling and laughing at the same time. “Oh, sis yuscht. I’m fine without a box of peanut-butter-chocolate drops.”
Carolyn crinkled the dollar bills in her hand and arched an eyebrow. “He can afford it. I’m happy to let him pay.”
Fern surrendered and let herself smile. “Okay. I’ll let Reuben pay. He needs the blessings.” All three of them laughed, and Fern shook a finger in Carolyn’s direction. “But no more trying to give away half your store. Kindness won’t pay your bills.”
“Yours either,” Carolyn said, and it sounded like a scold.
Clara marched into the shop. “Ach, du lieva. Oh, my goodness,” she said, giving Fern a hug identical to the one Carolyn had given her. Keeping her arm securely around Fern, Clara turned and eyed Reuben. “So, you’ve come to apologize, ain’t not?”
Reuben shook his head in resignation. There was nothing like the gossip network in an Amish community. Talking about the neighbors was one of the most exciting things Amish folks did. “I hope you’ve been looking forward to my visit.”
“Lorene is furious that you haven’t apologized to her yet. You’ve already been to Sadie’s house and washed Esther’s dog,” Clara said. She wrinkled her nose. “And you smell like it.”
Fern drew her brows together. “We washed the dog only this morning. How did you know?”
“Esther told Lorene you were coming.”
Reuben nudged his hat to the side and scratched his head. “Maybe I should buy another tub of peanut-butter-chocolate drops for Lorene.”
Carolyn moved so that Fern was between her and Clara and draped her arm around Fern’s shoulders, twining her arm with Clara on the other side. The Yutzys looked as if they were ready to defend Fern from an attack. Fern smiled almost as if she was surprised by their affection.
“So, Reuben Helmuth,” Carolyn said, “what have you to say for yourself?”
“Ach, vell, you know why I’m here.” He took off his hat and tapped it against his leg. “I said some terrible things on Monday, and I lost my temper because I jumped to conclusions I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry. I’m usually a wonderful-gute boy. People in Sugarcreek like me.” He lowered his eyes as the thought of what he’d lost hit him like a shovel to the head. “Well, they used to like me.”
“They still like you,” Fern said, handing Reuben a peanut-butter-chocolate drop as if that would make his humiliation all better. She glanced at Carolyn. “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Everybody adores Reuben.”
“I don’t wonder that they do,” Carolyn said, nodding as if she knew everything about everything. “So you’ve washed Esther’s dog and painted Sadie’s fence.”
“Jah, and I want to do something for you to make up for how rotten I was. I’m hoping you’ll see fit to forgive me and maybe not think so badly of me anymore.”
Carolyn tightened her arm around Fern’s shoulder. “Fern likes you, and I trust her opinion over most anybody’s.”
Reuben slumped his shoulders. “That doesn’t make me feel better. Fern likes everybody.”
“I’m not picky,” Fern said with a teasing grin.
“You really shouldn’t lose your temper like that if you want to have any friends,” Clara said.
Fern popped a peanut-butter-chocolate drop into her mouth. “It was very unlike him. Reuben is usually so good-natured. Linda Sue broke his heart but good, and he’s been in a bad mood for four months.”
Reuben wanted to protest. Linda Sue had broken up with him, but the humiliation of being replaced by his best friend was what had put him in a bad
mood. He caught a glint of light in Fern’s eyes, and suddenly his reasons seemed a little shallow. How deeply, really, had he been in love with Linda Sue?
Because a broken heart wasn’t the reason he had left.
Did Fern sense that? Is that why she didn’t ever seem that sorry for him whenever they talked about Linda Sue?
Carolyn still sported her know-it-all expression. “It’s plain you and Linda Sue weren’t the right match.”
Reuben squinted at Carolyn in confusion. “What do you mean? Do you know her?”
Carolyn practically dripped with smugness. “Nae, but I think there are other girls better suited to you right here in Bonduel.”
Fern pursed her lips. “Like Sadie Yoder. She’s the bishop’s daughter.”
Carolyn nodded slowly. “Maybe.”
Reuben didn’t like the direction of the conversation. No one was going to plan his life for him. If he married Sadie or Eva, or heaven forbid, Esther, it would be his own doing, not because some silly girls schemed to match him with the most likely maedle. He pretended he hadn’t even heard Fern’s last words. “Is there anything I can do to make up for hurting your feelings?”
“You didn’t hurt my feelings,” Carolyn insisted.
“Or mine,” Clara said. “And we forgive you.”
Carolyn nodded. “It takes a strong man to admit he was wrong, especially to a bunch of girls.” She studied Reuben’s money, still clutched tightly in her fist. “Though there is something you can do.”
“What do you mean, Carolyn?” Clara said. “We don’t have a dog.”
Reuben said a silent prayer of thanks. No dogs. “I’m willing to brush your horse.”
Carolyn took her arm from around Fern and smoothed Reuben’s dollar bills out flat in her hand. “We want you to come to the shop every week and buy something for Fern.”
Fern’s eyes popped even wider. “Me? Why me?”
“You’re willing to put up with Reuben. For that, you deserve a pound of peanut-butter-chocolate drops every day.”
Reuben didn’t protest. Fern had always stuck by him, even when he lost his temper with the knitting group. Even when he’d been humiliated in Sugarcreek. His heart leaped into his throat and made it hard to swallow. Besides his extremely lovable grandparents, Fern was his one constant. She deserved three pounds of peanut-butter-chocolate drops a day.
“It would be my pleasure,” he said, smiling at Fern so she knew he really meant it.
She smiled back, and she seemed to glow like the full moon on a clear night.
* * *
“You don’t really have to buy me something from the candy shop every week,” Fern said as Reuben pulled the buggy up to the fabric shop. She pushed her lips doubtfully to one side of her face and looked at him sideways. “Four dollars is a lot of money.”
He set the brake and gave her his most reassuring look. “I don’t mind, Fern. Carolyn is right. You deserve mountains of candy every week. Besides, I’ll be okay. I’ve got a down line, you know.”
She rolled her eyes. “Ach, stop with the down line. All I ever hear about is your down line.”
He chuckled. “As a matter of fact, I never talk about my down line.”
She sighed. “I suppose you don’t. It just seems that way because it looms so large in your life.”
Reuben didn’t even argue. Fern loved teasing him about his money, but her needling didn’t bother him. Three years ago, his dat had helped Reuben start his own essential oil distributorship. Reuben had made enough to put a hefty sum in the bank to buy his own home and farm when he got married. He’d been looking at property just outside Sugarcreek when Linda Sue had announced she was in love with John King. Bitterness filled his mouth. John King couldn’t even afford to buy his own courting buggy.
Fern’s gaze flicked to his face and then away. “You really don’t have to do it. The twins forgive you anyway.”
Reuben swallowed the gravel in his throat and gave her his best big-brother smile. “I don’t mind. You need some meat on those bones.”
A water spigot stood in the yard over an empty plastic tub. Reuben turned on the water and filled the tub halfway so Dawdi’s horse could have a drink. It had been a long day for Rhubarb too. He led the horse, buggy and all, to the water and let her drink. Propping his hands on his hips, he peered at the fabric shop attached to the main house. “So this is where Dorothy works?”
“I think she is the owner. Her dat added on to the house so Dorothy could have some income of her own.” Dorothy was over thirty years old. Maybe she’d given up on finding a husband.
“Let’s go then,” Reuben said, motioning for Fern to lead the way into the shop. He depended on her to soften Dorothy up. He depended on her to soften everybody up.
A bell above the door tinkled cheerfully as Reuben and Fern strolled into Dorothy’s fabric shop. Pillars of fabric lined every wall in every color Reuben could imagine for a Plain dress. The dark blues and greens and burgundies were the most plentiful, but there were plenty of other, brighter colors, like pink, baby blue, and purple. Fern would look very pretty in that bright, sunny yellow. The lavender fabric would bring out the gold flecks in her eyes. In the middle of the room sat a table with a wide, green cutting board, several pairs of scissors, and something that looked like a pizza cutter. There were also two racks full of tiny shirts, pants, and dresses already made for babies and toddlers. A quilted wall hanging hung behind the squatty counter where the adding machine sat waiting to ring up purchases.
Dorothy was nowhere to be seen. The businesses here didn’t likely get much but local buyers. No wonder Dorothy didn’t think it necessary to stand in her shop all day when the customers were sparse.
Fern ambled around the perimeter of the shop, fingering fabrics, sometimes stopping to press one against her cheek to test its softness. She sighed as her hands found a collection of plump fabric that was probably for quilt making. It didn’t look like dress fabric. “Cum, Reuben. Feel how soft this is. Mary Mast in Sugarcreek made a blanket for her buplie out of this. It’s like a cloud.”
Reuben put down the pizza cutter and walked over to the far wall. “It’s wonderful soft,” he said.
“It doesn’t sound like you mean it.”
He shrugged. “I’ve never taken much of an interest in fabric.”
“You would if you had a blanket like this. You would float away to sleep and never wake up freezing in the middle of the night.”
They both snapped their heads around as the front door opened and the bell tinkled. Dorothy craned her neck to see around the rack of baby clothes. “Fern?”
“Jah. And I brought Reuben with me.”
Reuben took a step to his right so Dorothy could see him, and he wasn’t surprised when her mouth sort of crinkled like a prune. “Do you need some fabric?”
Reuben took three slow steps forward and held out his hands in a gesture meant to communicate that he’d come in peace, just in case she was concerned he’d start yelling. “I’ve come to apologize.”
Dorothy didn’t seem impressed. “Why?”
“Because I lost my temper and hurt your feelings.”
Dorothy’s laughter escaped as a single, thunderous snort. “You’ll have to try a lot harder than that to hurt my feelings. Boys like you aren’t worth the trouble of getting worked up about.”
Reuben hadn’t expected Dorothy to throw wide her arms and give him a hug, but did she really think he wasn’t even “worth the trouble”? He was a pretty nice boy when people got to know him. Even Fern, who scolded him for being proud and self-righteous, thought he was a pretty nice boy.
Fern came to his rescue once again. “What Reuben means is that he is sorry for being so rude on Monday, and he wants to apologize.”
Dorothy balled her fists and propped them on her hips. “Well, get to it then. As you can see, I’m wonderful busy.”
Reuben looked around the empty shop with its neatly lined bolts of fabric. It seemed not one thread was out of place.
But he was here to apologize, not argue with Dorothy Miller about if she was truly busy or just wanted to get rid of him. He already knew the answer. “I am sorry for how I behaved on Monday, and please don’t blame my mater or my grandparents. My mamm taught me better than that.”
Fern was truly turning out to be his greatest ally. “He . . . he was distraught about his girlfriend and acted in a way that he never has before.”
Reuben nodded his sincerity. “Or ever will again, and I want to know if there is anything I can do to make it up to you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I washed Esther’s dog and painted Sadie Yoder’s fence to show them how truly sorry I am. Is there something I can do for you?”
Dorothy folded her arms and stared at Reuben so long, he was afraid she’d fallen asleep with her eyes open. She was probably dreaming up some outrageous penance like making him knit blankets for every buplie at the hospital or milking a thousand cows with his feet. He just hoped Dorothy didn’t have a smelly dog. There was only so much odor a boy could take before people started shunning him. Essential oils couldn’t cover up a bad stench.
The longer she stood there, the less pronounced the lines around Dorothy’s eyes appeared, and her mouth seemed less and less like a prune. Her gaze traveled back and forth between Reuben and Fern as if she were making up her mind about something. “Have you eaten today?”
Um. Maybe she wanted to put Tabasco sauce on the tip of his tongue or watch him swallow a whole bar of soap. “I had two plates of my mammi’s Eggs Benefit this morning.” That had been one filthy dog and five hours ago. His stomach growled at the thought.
Dorothy didn’t seem the least bit interested in what Reuben had eaten for breakfast. “What about you, Fern?”
Fern’s expression was partially obscured by a fold of mint-green fabric she was studying in front of her face. “I’ve eaten nearly a third of a tub of peanut-butter-chocolate drops.”
“Not good enough.” How could Dorothy make three words sound like a lecture? “Cum to the house,” she said, already halfway out the door. “I’ll make sandwiches and kaffee, and we’ll have a talk.”
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