Reuben waved to her as she moved away from him, then snapped his head around to look for Fern among the crowd of women and girls tidying up. He growled softly. She’d disappeared. If she’d gone behind the house to kiss Johnny Raber, Reuben didn’t know if he would be able to keep his temper.
He headed for the door while shaking that deerich thought from his head. Fern wasn’t the type of girl who gave out her kisses like lemon drops. She was sweet and cheerful but not inclined to flirt.
He stepped out onto the porch and shielded his eyes from the bright May sun. There she was, strolling down the Burkholders’ lane heading for the road. He felt as if he’d swallowed a piece of glass. She was going to leave without talking to him? As if they weren’t even friends?
The Schmuckers hadn’t come to gmay today. Had she walked all the way here by herself? Anger pressed against his chest. Was she planning on walking all the way home? What was she thinking? It was nearly three miles. Surely Mammi and Dawdi wouldn’t mind if they drove her home in the buggy. It irritated him that Fern hadn’t asked.
“Fern!” He jumped off the porch and jogged down the gravel lane until he caught up with her.
She turned around, and he thought he saw a glimmer of something deep and forlorn in her eyes before the expression disappeared and was replaced by a breathtaking smile. How did she do that?
It took him a second to gather his scattered thoughts. “I can take you home.”
With that smile still in place, she shook her head. “I don’t mind walking.”
“But why walk when you have a chance to ride with the best-looking boy in Sugarcreek and Bonduel put together?”
She didn’t laugh like he expected her to. “There are better-looking boys, and I can walk.”
He studied her face. He might have been overly sensitive, but something seemed amiss. “Is something wrong?”
Her smile faltered, but only for half a second. “I’m glad you are making some friends. I want you to be happy here.”
“But?”
Her hesitation was so subtle, someone who didn’t know her well might have missed it. “But nothing. You’re much happier than when I first came here. Remember? At that first gmay, you sat on that bench like a lump of slime and glared at me.”
“A lump of slime?” he repeated.
“Jah. You were that unpleasant.”
He tilted his head so she’d meet his eye. “You’re my friend too, you know. Even if you are from Sugarcreek.”
Her mouth twitched at one corner. “I’m sure you’ll get over it.”
“Over what?”
“You won’t need me much longer. Sadie and Esther and Matthew Eicher will take gute care of you. Aaron Glick and Serena are both wonderful nice.”
What was she talking about? He would always need her. His gut twisted like a wrung-out dishrag. She couldn’t stay in Bonduel forever. “This place is growing on me,” he murmured.
She narrowed her eyes. “Or you could come home.”
He looked out at the pasture that ran alongside the lane. “I guess maybe I could.”
Her smile returned with full force and a hint of surprise. “You think maybe?”
He kicked the gravel at his feet. “I don’t know. It doesn’t hurt as much as it used to, but maybe that’s because I’m not there to see John and Linda Sue parade around like a couple, rubbing it in my face every time we see each other.”
“John would never do that. You know he feels as bad as you do.”
“Nae, he doesn’t,” Reuben said, with less conviction than he used to feel on the subject. “Maybe there isn’t room for all three of us in Sugarcreek anymore.”
“Sugarcreek is a big place.” She always tried to coax him out of a bad mood by teasing him. “Even for someone with as big a head as you.”
“Ach, a big head? I’ve half a mind not to invite you over for knitting tomorrow night.”
She giggled. “You’ll never finish that blanket without my help.”
“Pot holder. I’ve changed it to a pot holder. It will go faster.”
Fern shook her head as if she thought he was incorrigible. “No new mother wants to take her baby home wrapped in a pot holder.”
“Maybe if it’s a preemie.” He reached out and tugged at one of her errant curls. “Will you come? Tomorrow night to give me a knitting lesson?”
Fern touched her fingers to the base of her neck. “Jah, but only because I wouldn’t want to disappoint your mammi. She’s got her heart set on you learning how to knit.”
He shook his head. “She’s going to be very disappointed.”
“Don’t give up yet. I still have hope for you.”
Warmth spread inside his chest. Fern never gave up on anything.
A buggy crammed with children came slowly down the lane. “Cum,” Reuben said, leading her to the pasture fence and leaning against it. “I want to hear all about the buggy ride.”
Fern grabbed the wooden post and boosted herself to sit on the top rail. “It rained a little, but Johnny brought two umbrellas.”
“What did he say?” Did you fall in love with him? Are you going for another ride? Why was he tagging after you like a puppy at the fellowship supper?
Fern grinned. Did she have an inkling how irritated he’d been about the whole thing? “He didn’t say much at first, but I was patient. He finally opened up.”
“Finally opened up? You mean you had a conversation?” Of course they had. Fern could make a porcupine feel comfortable.
Fern nodded. “He has a dog named Blue, and he works as a lumberjack. He likes to hunt and fish, and his mother is on a diet.”
Reuben cocked an eyebrow and tried to look happy that Fern hadn’t spent the buggy ride in silence. “Anything else?”
Fern blushed. Reuben didn’t like it. A girl was interested in a boy if she blushed when she talked about him. “He asked if he could take me home from the next singing.”
“What did you tell him?” Reuben said, disgusted that he couldn’t seem to catch his breath.
“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Fern said, biting her bottom lip. “Johnny is a wonderful-nice boy, but I am probably the first girl who’s been nice to him, the first girl he’s said more than two words to besides his sisters. Boys like that tend to think they’re in love even when they’re not.”
“Of course he’s in love with you. Who wouldn’t be?”
She widened her eyes and formed her lips into an O. He didn’t know why that took her by surprise. “You think so?” She seemed to think better of smiling, and her lips sagged into a frown. “You don’t think it’s proud of me to say that?”
“It’s obvious he’s in love with you. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you today.”
“I want you to know that I don’t think I’m better than him or anything like that, but I’m afraid if I keep being nice, he’ll think I’m interested, which I’m not.”
Reuben could have jumped up and down and shouted “hallelujah.” He’d known from the very beginning that Fern and Johnny weren’t right for each other. “What are you going to do?” he replied, without a hop, skip, or a jump.
“I don’t want to not be polite, because he really is a nice boy and I don’t want to hurt his feelings.”
“And because you are incapable of being unkind to anyone.”
She slumped her shoulders. “Maybe I should just ride home with him. He’ll eventually take the hint that I don’t love him back.”
Reuben adamantly shook his head. “You’ll be standing in front of the bishop on your wedding day before Johnny takes the hint. At that point it would be quite inconvenient to tell him how you really feel.”
“Maybe I’m making a big deal over nothing. It’s likely he’s simply glad to have a friend who’s a girl.”
“Nae. I saw how he looked at you. He’s already in up to his neck. The further you let it go, the harder he’ll take it.”
Her frown etched itself into her face. “But I hate hurting his feelings.”
“Tell him you’re riding home with me. I don’t mind taking you, and he’ll think you and I are coupled up.”
“He’ll be very sad,” she said.
“Not as sad as on the night he proposes to you, and you have to turn him down.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
He folded his arms across his chest in hopes she’d see his muscles flex. “I’m always right.”
She rolled her eyes. “And always arrogant.”
He growled and chuckled at the same time. “You adore me just the way I am.”
“How fortunate for you that I’m hard to get rid of.” Fern’s eyes came to life with an idea. “I could help Johnny find another girl. Nothing mends a broken heart like a diversion.” She paused, grinned sheepishly, and giggled. “Anyway, I think that might work for Johnny.”
“You want to play matchmaker to Johnny, and I’m supposed to be matchmaker for his bruder Melvin—the two most timid, girl-shy boys in Wisconsin. We’ve got our work cut out for us.” Getting Melvin to talk to Dorothy seemed downright impossible.
“What is Felty planning for Melvin and his license plates?”
“I’m not sure. He said he had to talk to his Englisch friend Ken. Ken gives tours of the area to Englisch folks who want to see the Amish. That’s all I know of Dawdi’s plan. He told me to be ready to go as soon as he gives the signal.” Reuben winked at Fern. “I don’t know what the signal is, and I don’t know what I need to do to get ready. I’m going to fail miserably.”
“With Anna and Felty helping you out, you have nothing to fear. I hear tell they are the best.”
“When I was a boy, I truly believed my grandparents could do anything. I hope they prove me right,” Reuben said.
“For sure and certain they will.” Fern turned her face to the cloudy sky. “I need to go. It looks like rain.”
Reuben wrapped his hands around her waist and helped her down from the fence. His thumbs came troublingly close to touching each other in front. Fern was getting altogether too skinny. Why did she have to be such a picky eater? “Don’t worry about the rain. I’ll drive you home and then come back for Mammi and Dawdi.”
She smiled as if she was surprised he’d remembered his offer. “Okay. But you should drop me off a little way from the house. Barbara gets terrible headaches, and any little noise sets her off.”
Reuben didn’t see how buggy wheels and horse hooves could make that much noise, but if Fern wanted to be dropped off away from the house, he’d oblige her. From a few things he picked up from Mammi and Clara Yutzy, he’d gotten the impression that Barbara Schmucker was a fussy, difficult-to-please fraa. If it made her grumpy to have a buggy pull up in front of her house, Reuben would stay far away.
Sadie came running down the lane, and Fern glided backward toward the main road. “Reuben, I’m glad I caught you,” Sadie said, pausing to catch her breath. “Mamm wants you to stay for dinner tomorrow night after I show you around the dairy. After that the family is playing Scrabble. Can you stay?”
A chance to spend time with Sadie’s family—the bishop in particular—was too gute to pass up. He looked at Fern, but he didn’t know why. He didn’t need her permission. “Of course I can stay. But I’ll warn you. I haven’t lost a game of Scrabble since I was twelve.”
Sadie clapped her hands. “Wonderful gute.” She seemed to remember Fern was there, even though Fern was slowly drifting backward. “I hope you don’t mind, Fern. Mamm didn’t give me permission to invite anyone else.”
Fern pressed a smile onto her lips, all the while moving farther and farther down the lane. “I don’t mind. It will be a gute chance for Reuben to get to know your family better.”
Reuben wanted to smack his palm into his forehead. He’d forgotten all about knitting with Fern. “Ach, Sadie,” he said. “Fern and I are knitting tomorrow night.”
Sadie made a face as if his words tasted bad in her mouth. “Knitting? What are you knitting?”
Reuben forced a carefree smile. He shouldn’t have said anything. What would Sadie think of a boy who knew how to knit? “Mammi was very sad when I broke up the knitting group. I thought it would make her happy if I learned to knit.”
Sadie smiled. “You’re a very thoughtful grandson, but can’t you make the knitting lessons another night? Scrabble is so much fun at our house. Joseph Elmer is a terrible player, and he misspells almost every word he tries. Dat keeps the dictionary close.”
“We can knit another time,” Fern said, now almost ten feet down the lane.
“Jah,” Sadie said. “There’s always time to knit.”
“Okay.” Reuben furrowed his brow at the unnecessarily cheerful expression on Fern’s face.
“Okay,” Fern said. She smiled and waved and smiled some more. “We’ll knit again real soon.”
“Okay,” he said again, waving back and feeling as if he’d forgotten something. Fern turned her back on him and skipped down the road as if she was being chased by lightning.
Sadie’s excitement was a pot of jelly boiling over on the stove. “Mamm always makes caramel popcorn for Scrabble night. It’s so good you will die, but don’t tell Esther. She’d only be jealous for no reason and then I’d have to spend three hours talking her out of being mad that she didn’t get any popcorn.” Sadie shielded her eyes and gazed into the sky. “It looks like it’s going to make down hard. Come inside, and I’ll tell you all about the Englischer I met yesterday who sells essential oils. She knows your dat.”
“Okay,” Reuben said, which seemed to be the only word his mouth could form at the moment. A large hole opened up in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to play Scrabble with Sadie and the bishop, but he’d brushed Fern off like a piece of lint from his shirt.
Something hard and heavy like a semitruck plowed into him. He’d not only cancelled knitting night, he’d forgotten about his offer to drive Fern home. A drop of rain slapped him in the face as he followed Sadie back into the house.
Chapter Fifteen
The sheer number of spindly trees and unruly bushes in Melvin Raber’s yard made it seem as if the forest was trying to smother Melvin’s house. It was a gute place for someone who wanted to go unnoticed. Reuben pressed his lips together. Dorothy might want to marry Melvin, but it was clear by his unfriendly yard that Melvin wanted to be left alone. Reuben couldn’t see a single crocus or daffodil, not to mention a tree in bloom. Flowers seemed to be forbidden on Melvin’s property. It didn’t bode well for a romance to blossom.
Dawdi led the way to Melvin’s porch, where a screen door looked to be more rust than door, and Reuben walked headlong into a cobweb. He scraped it off his face before any spiders decided to hitch a ride as well. The sun had set about half an hour ago, and soon it would be too dark to see the porch or the house. At least the car idling in Melvin’s driveway had headlights and a tiny light in the back to illuminate the precious license plate.
Dawdi had said the whole plan would work better in the dark. Dorothy lurked in the backseat of the slightly pink Cadillac. It was better if Melvin couldn’t see her from his front door. Not that he would be able to see her anyway. The bushes were so thick between the driveway and the house that Reuben hoped they’d be able to find their way out.
Dawdi knocked on Melvin’s door, and Reuben found himself wishing Fern had come, even though it was a Tuesday and she had to work—at whatever job she had to work at. He depended on Fern to know just what to do in situations like this. But Dawdi had been right to want to leave Fern out of it. Melvin would never open his door if she were standing on his porch. According to Dawdi, he frightened too easily.
Still, Reuben wished he could have talked to her after what happened at gmay two days ago. He should have followed after Fern in his buggy and taken her home, but Sadie’s dat had enlisted him to help load benches into the wagon and he couldn’t have said no to the bishop, especially since the bishop also happened to be Sadie’s dat.
Even though Fern didn’t work on Mondays, he ha
dn’t seen her yesterday either. He’d spent all day with Sadie looking at her cows and walking around the dairy. Reuben’s cousin in Sugarcreek had milking machines, so Reuben knew how to use them. He’d joined in the afternoon milking, helped clean up after the job was done, set Sadie’s table for dinner. It was almost as if he were part of the Yoder family—or they wanted him to be.
Reuben’s gut clenched, and he ground his teeth together. What was wrong with him? Sadie was everything he could want in a girl—even better than Linda Sue, if he were being honest with himself. Sadie’s family had money, and Sadie was ever so much prettier. There was no reason he should feel so discontented about being with Sadie. Fern would tell him he was just being proud. That’s what she always told him.
The door opened with an eerie squeak just as Reuben had expected it would. The cobwebs, the rusty door, the knobby trees were all a little spooky. Did Dorothy really want to marry Melvin Raber? He was a hermit at thirty years old.
Reuben didn’t know what he’d expected, but it wasn’t the intelligent, if ordinary, looking man who answered the door. Melvin’s walnut-brown hair hung over his ears in the traditional Amish fashion, with bangs neatly trimmed to an inch above his thick brows. He was clean shaven, as most unmarried Amish men under forty were. If an Amish bachelor reached the age of forty, the elders allowed him to grow a beard like the married men.
Melvin did meet Reuben’s expectations in at least one way. Lowering his eyes, he stood safely behind the tight screen door and fidgeted with his suspenders.
“Hello, Melvin,” Dawdi said, tapping his palm against the screen in an attempt to get Melvin to look up.
Melvin’s eyes flicked to Dawdi’s face and then back to his own feet. “Gute maiya, Felty.”
“This is my grandson Reuben, from Sugarcreek.”
Melvin briefly lifted his gaze before letting it fall again. “Nice to meet you, Roger.”
“Reuben,” Reuben said, immediately chastising himself. What did it matter if Melvin got his name right when the least mistake could spook Melvin like a horse?
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