Return to Huckleberry Hill

by Jennifer Beckstrand

  Two weeks ago, she’d sent a letter to her parents with two hundred dollars cash stuffed inside. The letter had never made it to Sugarcreek—no doubt stolen somewhere along the way or lost in the mail. She knew it was risky to send cash in the post, but she couldn’t afford to open a checking account, let alone pay for checks, so she thought she could get away with sending cash as long as she prayed real hard over it first.

  It hadn’t worked.

  She slid her hand into her pocket and wrapped her fingers around Dat’s letter. She could practically hear him yelling all the way from Sugarcreek. Two hundred dollars lost due to her carelessness. Her parents needed that money to buy feed. She could have used that money to feed herself. Now, she’d have to send every last penny to Mamm and Dat in a money order. She couldn’t very well afford a money order either, but it was better than losing everything.

  She’d gotten herself into a pickle for sure and certain.

  Oh, sis yuscht. She stopped so fast, a cloud of dust rose up in front of her. Reuben’s buggy—or rather Felty Helmuth’s buggy—was parked on the road right in front of Barbara Schmucker’s fancy white mailbox with the ivy twining up the post. Her heart pumped so hard, it was like to break her ribs.

  What was he doing here? Was he sitting in Barbara Schmucker’s parlor having a cup of kaffee? Had he wandered back to the barn and discovered her sleeping quarters?

  She exhaled a very long breath when Reuben appeared from behind one of the oak trees at the front of the Schmuckers’ yard, eyeing her tentatively with his hands stuffed in his pockets. He didn’t know the Schmuckers. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to disturb them and so hadn’t knocked on their door. She could only hope.

  She must have looked a sight. Her apron was smudged with dirt, her face couldn’t have been much cleaner, and her hair was likely sticking out in all directions from the scarf she’d tied on this morning to keep it in place.

  She quickly swiped the tears from her eyes. She shouldn’t have indulged in the wallowing. Wallowing always got her into trouble.

  The second Reuben realized her predicament with the bike, he frowned and jogged down the road to meet her. Fern held her breath. Reuben Helmuth was surely the most handsome boy she had ever and would ever lay eyes on. It was pure truth, and she was sensible enough to be honest with herself, even though she’d never be good enough for him.

  “Fern,” he said, gifting her with a bright smile before turning his gaze to her hopeless bike. He got down on one knee and ran his hand halfway around the flat tire. “You’re going to need a new tube.”

  “Jah. I figured.” She tried her best to smile, partly to mask the fact that she’d been crying but mostly because she didn’t have the heart to give Reuben the cold shoulder. Sadie and Esther, Matthew Eicher and Serena were the very friends Fern wanted for Reuben. Being admired and well-liked made Reuben happy, and more than anything, Fern wanted him to be happy. Her broken heart—which was entirely her own fault—meant less than a gnat splattered against a windshield.

  “You lost a pedal.”

  She pointed to her basket. “It’s in there.”

  He stood, retrieved the broken pedal, and turned it over in his hand. “I’ll need a few tools to fix this. You didn’t happen to save the bolt?”

  The bolt was somewhere between here and the bus stop. “It’s gone.”

  “We can find one to fit.” He studied her face as if he were afraid of what he might find there. “You’ve been crying.”

  “You’d cry too if your pedal fell off and your tire exploded. It’s two miles from the bus stop.” She wasn’t about to tell him the real reason for her tears.

  His smile slid off his face, and he looked as if he’d never be happy again. “Fern, I’m wonderful sorry about last night. When I got back to the Rabers’ house, you were already gone. I came here to be sure you’d made it home safe. Did you see the yarn?”

  She couldn’t muster more than a poor excuse for a smile, and she couldn’t meet his gaze. “Jah. I saw it. Denki for being concerned.”

  “I wanted to come over this morning and apologize as soon as possible.” He tilted his head in an attempt to get her to look him in the eye. “But I didn’t want to make you late for your job at the stables shoeing horses.”

  Her lips twitched upward. “Nice try, but I’m not going to tell you where I work. It’s none of your business.”

  “Oh, don’t you worry. I’ll find out soon enough, Fernly.” When she didn’t react to his teasing, he huffed out a frustrated breath. “Fern. Will you . . . will you please look at me?”

  Reluctantly, she lifted her gaze to his face, trying very hard to look excessively cheerful and carefree even though she really wanted to bawl her eyes out.

  His frown sank deeper into his face. “Fern, I’m wonderful sorry about last night. I should have been there to take you home yet. I said I would, and I let you down.”

  “I told you last night that I wouldn’t need a ride home. It wasn’t important. You don’t have to apologize. I was fine.”

  Some stormy emotion traveled across his face. “Did Johnny take you home?”

  “Of course not. Johnny is a sweet boy. I would never want to give him the wrong idea about how I feel. You gave me that advice.”

  He seemed to want to smile and scowl at the same time. He settled for pressing his lips into a rigid line. “And it was gute advice. But you had to ride home with somebody. Dorothy?”

  “Nae. She rode home with Melvin.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “How did she manage that?”

  “She asked Melvin if he could drive me home, and when I said I didn’t need a ride, Melvin offered to take her home. They were talking about license plates as they drove down the driveway.”

  Reuben shook his head. “Melvin is becoming downright sociable.”

  “Who would have thought license plates could bring two people together like that?”

  Narrowing his eyes, Reuben folded his arms across his chest. “Please don’t tell me you walked home.”

  “Okay. I won’t tell you.”

  He looked so ferociously irritated, it wouldn’t have surprised Fern if he’d started growling like a bear. Why was he so mad? If he hadn’t wanted her to walk, he should have been there to drive her home.

  She bit back something bitter she was tempted to say. She had no right to expect anything of him. This was what she wanted. If Reuben was happy, she was happy. Although right now, he didn’t look very happy.

  “Why didn’t you ask my grandparents? They came, didn’t they?”

  “Anna and Felty offered to take me home, but I couldn’t let them. The Schmuckers’ house is so far out of their way.”

  “Nae it isn’t.”

  Anna had been quite concerned about leaving Fern at the warehouse, but Fern had assured her she’d find a way home. She hadn’t told Anna that the way home was her own two feet. Anna wasn’t at all happy that Reuben had disappeared, and she kept shaking her head and saying, “That boy,” as if Reuben were an incorrigible sixth grader. Reuben would have to double down on his knitting lessons or his mammi might never smile at him again.

  Reuben was still scowling at her. Ach, du lieva. Why did he care so much that she had walked home? “Your mammi invited me for dinner tomorrow.”

  The line between Reuben’s brows smoothed out. “Gute. She’s making olive loaf. It’s one of my favorites.”

  Fern swallowed her misgivings. The food didn’t matter. It was an invitation to go and eat someone else’s food, and Anna’s cooking was better than nothing. She made all her recipes with love, and Fern would be ungrateful to turn up her nose. She was so hungry, she’d eat a bowl of sawdust if it had chocolate sauce drizzled over the top.

  Reuben stared at her with a serious look on his face, then reached out and smoothed a piece of hair from her cheek. She clenched her teeth to keep a shiver from traveling down her spine. “Fern, I’m sorry you had to walk home last night. You shouldn’t walk home in the dark.”

&
nbsp; “I was fine.”

  He shook his head. “I’m not blaming you, though it sounds like it. I wasn’t there to take you home. Will you forgive me?”

  She forced a wide smile onto her lips. If Reuben was happy . . . “There is nothing to forgive, but I’ll forgive you if you quit pestering me.”

  He nodded and twitched his lips doubtfully. “Am I a snob?”

  Okay. She appreciated the change of subject, no matter how abrupt. “Why ask me? You already know what I think.”

  “You think I’m proud.”

  She didn’t have to try so hard for a smile now. This was a conversation they’d had many times. She liked teasing him, and he usually didn’t mind the teasing. “And a snob.”

  He groaned. “A snob like Sadie Yoder?”

  Fern took a step backward. He wouldn’t paint her into a corner no matter how much practice he’d had at painting lately. She refused to say a word against Sadie. “You think you’re better than everybody, but at least you’re nice about it.”

  “That doesn’t make me feel better.”

  “It’s not supposed to. It’s supposed to make you uncomfortable.”

  “Then it’s working,” he said. “I’m sorry for being a snob.”

  “You can’t help it.”

  “I should have invited you to come with us last night.”

  “It was better that you didn’t,” Fern said. “I would have hurt your chances with Sadie and her friends. Nobody wants an annoying little sister tagging along.”

  She could tell he wanted to argue, but he kept his mouth shut because she was right. Sadie liked Reuben. She wouldn’t have been happy about Fern coming along.

  Reuben kicked at the gravel at his feet. “I want to be accepted here. I want Sadie and the others to like me.”

  “How could they not? You’re handsome and fun and rich. Everything a girl could want in a boy.” She gave his arm a sisterly pat. “They have welcomed you with open arms, Reuben. I can tell. You can be very happy here, even if I’d rather you come back to Sugarcreek and be happy there. I know John and Linda Sue hurt you, but maybe in time you’ll learn to look past it.”

  He shrugged and shifted his feet. “I suppose it doesn’t hurt so bad anymore.”

  She eyed him suspiciously. Was he telling the truth? That was more than he’d ever admitted to her before.

  “But it feels strange to go back,” he said. “I can buy a piece of land, do some farming, and manage my down line from here.”

  She couldn’t keep the hurt from her voice. She’d been expecting this, but it still ached in the pit of her stomach. “What about the people in Sugarcreek who love you? Your parents, your siblings, your friends. Don’t their feelings count for anything?”

  “They’ve gotten along fine without me for almost five months.”

  Fern felt her face get warm. “How could you possibly know that? How can you know what other people are thinking? Don’t you even care?”

  She wanted to take him by the shoulders and shake some sense into him. Things were coming along well for him in Bonduel, but there were a lot of people in Sugarcreek who needed him desperately. Was he so blind that he couldn’t even see it?

  Her head started spinning. If Reuben didn’t know how badly his family in Sugarcreek needed him, then he truly was a selfish, proud, stupid boy.

  Reuben’s voice sounded fuzzy. “Fern? Are you all right? Fern?”

  His strong arms shot out to grab her as everything went black.

  * * *

  Had she fainted? Her head spun in several different directions like a yard full of pinwheels. Was she still standing or had she fallen over?

  “Stay still, heartzly.” Reuben’s low voice sounded like a caress against her skin.

  Yep. She had fainted, and she was still unconscious. Reuben would only have called her heartzly in her dreams.

  Groaning softly, she lifted her hand to her forehead and opened her eyes. Reuben’s face was mere inches from hers, and he didn’t seem inclined to pull away. His expression was saturated with concern as he tightened his arms around her. She sat on the ground while Reuben knelt beside her, keeping her upright with his firm embrace.

  “Did I faint?”

  “About fifteen seconds ago. Hush. Don’t try to talk.”

  The last thing she needed in her already frazzled state was to be this close to Reuben Helmuth, who smelled so gute, it should probably be against the Ordnung. She tried to push away from him so she could stand up, but he only pulled her closer. If she didn’t give up the struggle, he’d persist in drawing her dangerously close to his heart.

  “You’ll fall over if you try to stand just yet. I’d rather not see you hit your head.”

  She slid her hand across her forehead and willed her head to stop doing somersaults. “Ach. I’ve never fainted before.”

  “Shh. Take some deep breaths. I wish I had some peppermint oil handy.”

  She let herself relax against him. Lord willing, Sadie wouldn’t happen by this way and see Fern King in her boyfriend’s arms. “This isn’t proper.”

  He didn’t jump up and away from her like she half expected him to. He didn’t even flinch. “Are you sick?”

  She shook her head, which made the spinning start all over again. Another small groan escaped her lips.

  His warm fingers set her skin on fire as he brushed away another errant lock of hair. “You’ve been working too hard, Fernly.”

  “I didn’t have time to eat lunch today.” Or money. She hadn’t had money for breakfast either, but he didn’t need to know that. “The walk home made me a little light-headed yet.”

  His breath tickled her ear. “Don’t skip lunch anymore. I can feel all your ribs. You should eat. Why haven’t you been eating?”

  She closed her eyes and let her hand fall to her side. “You told me not to try to talk.”

  He gave her a good-natured growl. “You’re not eating enough, and you’re working too hard on that sheetrock business.”

  She giggled and shifted her weight so she could sit up. He relaxed his hold on her. “It takes long, hard hours to make a business successful.”

  He chuckled before pinning her with an anxious look. “Are you dizzy?”

  “Not anymore.”

  “You need something to eat.”

  She nodded. “I’ll make sure to eat something as soon as I can.” That wasn’t a lie. She might have a few leftover peanut-butter-chocolate drops she could suck on until dinner tomorrow at Anna and Felty’s.

  He rolled his eyes. “That’s not good enough. I’m taking you to McDonald’s for a Big Mac and a large fry. Two Big Macs if you’re nice.”

  Fern’s heart all but melted. Reuben might be a snob, but he always remembered how much she liked Big Macs. It was one of the reasons she loved him. She clamped her eyes shut and refused to cry. She was a gnat. Nobody cared about a gnat’s feelings.

  “Can you stand?”

  “I think so.”

  Reuben took her elbow and helped her to her feet. Holding on to his arms, she took three deep breaths and tested out her knees. He didn’t let go as he led her to his buggy and made sure she settled securely in her seat. He grinned like a cat as he took a chunky green crocheted afghan from the floor of the buggy. “My mammi made this and told me to keep it in my buggy just in case,” he said, spreading it over her lap and tucking it around her legs. “It’s not all that cold out here, but you just fainted, so I’m not taking any chances.”

  He kept one eye trained on her as he climbed into the buggy and picked up the reins. “To McDonald’s we go,” he said as he prodded the horse to a trot.

  Fern’s stomach growled in enthusiastic approval. She hoped Reuben planned on paying, because if not, she’d have to settle for a glass of water and some ketchup packets. Her stomach would not be happy.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Once they finished brushing the horse, they’d have to brush Fern, or take a hose to her. Her brown dress was covered in horse hair. Esther’
s dogs had stunk to high heaven, and her poor horse hadn’t been brushed for a very long time.

  Fern worked on brushing one side of Fluffy, the big black horse, and Reuben worked on the other. Fluffy stood perfectly still, occasionally neighing her approval as Reuben and Fern brushed her from head to toe. It was a gute thing Reuben had brought two dandy brushes, because Esther didn’t have any. Someone needed to have a talk with Esther’s fater about taking better care of his animals. Reuben would ask Dawdi to do it. He had a real heart for the animals, and he was gute at hard conversations like that.

  Esther sat on the high, narrow ledge between the stalls, content to let Reuben and Fern work while she chomped on a piece of bubble gum, occasionally blowing huge bubbles to pass the time. Reuben was starting to wonder if earning Esther’s forgiveness was worth the trouble. He’d washed all three of her dogs—two with Fern’s help—mucked out Esther’s small barn, milked her cow twice, and repaired her buggy. There was no end in sight to the chores. For sure and certain, Esther would have him coming back every week for forever if she thought she could get away with it.

  Every time he left Esther’s house, she warned him that he’d better come back and do more work if he wanted to receive her forgiveness.

  He felt bad about losing his temper at the knitting group, but the way he figured it, he’d made amends several days ago. Esther was just using him to get out of her own chores. He wanted to help her out, he really did, but his sense of fairness told him he’d done his part.

  Still, if he kept Esther happy, she would in turn put in a good word for him with Sadie. He needed Sadie’s approval if he wanted to make a name for himself in Bonduel. He’d have to keep coming around to Esther’s until he’d secured his place as an important person in the community. Then the servitude would cease.

  He hoped it didn’t take too long.

  “You missed a spot,” Esther said. “You’ve got to brush all the way down.”

  Fern leaned her head to the side and peeked at Reuben from behind Fluffy’s neck. Her smile seemed a little sad, but it still lit up the dim barn like a brilliant sunset. Reuben’s heart did a flip. He almost looked forward to working at Esther’s when Fern came with him. She carried her own sunshine with her, even on cloudy days.