But today, he really needed to leave, and Sadie was the last person in the world he wanted to see. If he didn’t clamp his mouth shut, for sure and certain he’d say something he’d regret. Sadie was the reason he was in the fix he was in. Reuben took a deep breath. That wasn’t true and he knew it. His problems were no one’s fault but his own.
John scooted his chair from the table so fast, you’d have thought his trousers were on fire. He really wanted an excuse to escape, even if it was in the shape of Sadie Yoder. “I’m here,” he said.
Sadie took one step into the house and eyed Reuben doubtfully. “My bruder dropped me off at the bottom of the hill to fetch our buggy. We didn’t know you were going to keep her all night.”
“I’m sorry,” John said. “It got to be too late and too wet to come back. I hope your dat doesn’t mind.”
Sadie took another step into the room as if pretending she wasn’t trying to come in at all. “He isn’t mad. He just wants to be sure we get our buggy back. He’s gone to milk, and I’ve come to get the buggy.”
John looked longingly at Reuben. Did he want Reuben to rescue him? From what exactly? When Reuben didn’t respond—because he had no idea what John wanted—John nodded to Sadie. “Okay. I’ll hitch it up.”
“Gute morning, Sadie,” Mammi said, buttering a piece of toast that looked a little greener than normal bread should look. “How are you after last night’s debacle?”
Reuben wasn’t sure what “debacle” meant, and from the look on Sadie’s face, it was clear she didn’t either. “Ach . . .” Sadie said, her eyes darting between Mammi and Dawdi. “Ach, I am right as rain. A wonderful-gute singing.”
“It’s appropriate we got lots of rain last night then,” Mammi said, her eyes twinkling like she had a very gute secret to keep.
“Jah,” was all Sadie had to say for herself.
“I’ll hitch up your horse,” John said, right before his long strides took him out the door.
Sadie bit her bottom lip and seemed to lose some of that calm assurance that had carried her into the house. “Reuben,” she said. “Would you please come outside? I would consider it a very big favor if you and I had a talk.”
The last time Sadie had invited Reuben to talk, it had turned into a disaster. He didn’t trust her, and if she meant to humiliate him, she’d be sorely disappointed. Maybe after today, he could be finished with her once and for all, because he’d never be humiliated by Sadie Yoder again. After last night, he didn’t care what she thought or how many friends she had. He didn’t even care that she was the bishop’s daughter.
She didn’t have beautiful auburn hair that curled at the nape of her neck or lively brown eyes that danced every time she smiled. Sadie had purposefully tried to humiliate him. He didn’t have time for her anymore.
Reuben stepped onto Mammi and Dawdi’s covered porch with Sadie leading the way. Dawdi shut the door behind them and closed the curtains to the window that looked out onto the porch. He must have thought they would need some privacy, though Reuben didn’t care what Sadie had to say to him. He felt annoyed more than anything else. Sadie was an inconvenience he needed to deal with before he could see Fern.
Sadie took three giant steps that put her within inches of Reuben. He took three giant steps backward. She pursed her lips and took another step toward him. He stepped back, hoping he didn’t run out of porch before Sadie gave up chasing him.
He shouldn’t have been surprised when her eyes pooled with tears. “You don’t have to run away, Reuben. I came to apologize.”
He tried not to look distrustful. Maybe she’d had a change of heart overnight. Reuben had certainly come a long way in the last twelve hours.
She blinked back her tears. “I apologize for not having faith in you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I should have known you were just trying to spare Fern’s feelings. I forgot what a gute heart you have, Reuben. Still, you should have had the courtesy to explain everything to me before I got carried away. You could have prevented a lot of embarrassment for both of us if you’d only explained things.”
Reuben drew his brows together. He’d made things very clear that day at Esther’s barn. “What didn’t I explain?”
“Right before Johnny Raber took Fern home last night, she told me everything, though why you wanted to spare her feelings at the expense of mine I can’t understand.”
“What did Fern say?”
“What do you think? She told me the truth, which is more than I got from you that day in Esther’s barn. Fern said you found out that she was in love with you, and you didn’t want to hurt her feelings so you told me that you just wanted to be friends.” A slight smile drifted onto her face. “I knew, I just knew, we were more to each other than friends. I didn’t realize how protective you are of Fern, even though she is who she is. Fern says you set her straight last night. She understands how you feel about her. She understands her place, and you don’t have to pretend to be her friend anymore.”
Reuben’s chest tightened until it was impossible to draw breath. Even after all the cruel words he’d said to her, Fern had tried to fix things with Sadie, to make it better when he hadn’t been able to see any way out. She was still watching out for him, and he thought he might suffocate with guilt.
“I am sorry that I tried to embarrass you last night. I just . . . I felt so used and deceived and angry. I wanted you to hurt as bad as I was hurting.” She squared her shoulders. “But I can see that was not the Christian way to handle it. I wish you would have told me from the start. I could have helped you with Fern. You spent too much time with her. It got her hopes up.”
Reuben’s ears started ringing and all he could see was Fern’s grief-stricken face the moment before he had turned his back on her.
“It was the same with Esther. You were too nice, and she got her hopes up. Boys don’t like Esther. She thinks she’s in love with anyone who’s nice to her.”
The words seemed to explode from his mouth. “You’re wrong, Sadie.”
Sadie’s long-winded speech sputtered to a stop, and she furrowed her brow. “Wrong about what?”
“Christian charity. Me. Esther. Fern. Fern has been nothing but kind and patient with me. I was telling the truth that day in the barn. I don’t love you. I don’t want to be your boyfriend. I don’t even want to be your friend.”
Sadie caught his words like a bad disease. “How dare you, Reuben Helmuth.”
His heart seemed to explode until it pushed against his ribs and left him gasping for air. This feeling of utter and complete love was for Fern. It had always been Fern, and he had been too blind to see it.
John drove the Yoders’ buggy to the front of the house. Reuben leaped down the porch steps and turned back to look at Sadie. “I don’t like you, Sadie. I love Fern. I love her better than I love my mammi’s cooking, and I’m going to tell her. Right now.”
He couldn’t spare another thought for Sadie Yoder. Fern needed to know how he felt as soon as possible. He didn’t want her to miss out on one more moment of his love.
“John,” he said, running to meet the buggy as it pulled up to Mammi and Dawdi’s sidewalk. “Take Sadie home. I’m going to get Fern.” He burst into an uncontrollable smile. “I love her, John. And I want to marry her.”
John tried to stifle a smile that would not be contained. “It wonders me why anyone would like my annoying little sister.”
“You know perfectly well that she is the most beautiful, kind, wunderbarr girl in the world.”
“Except for Linda Sue,” John said.
Reuben shook his head. “Even better than Linda Sue, and I almost made the biggest mistake of my life. I could never love anyone the way I love Fern.”
“Ach, vell. You might as well marry her. She’d never stop tagging along after you anyway.”
Reuben glanced behind him. “Be careful of Sadie. She’s wonderful mad. Don’t go over any big bumps.”
John chuckled. “I wo
n’t. And take care, Reuben. Fern won’t believe you. She doesn’t think all that much of herself. You’ll have to convince her that someone as important as Reuben Helmuth could love a pig farmer’s daughter.”
John had meant it as a jest, but Reuben’s joy drained from him like water from a leaky dam. He had been treating Fern as an afterthought. John was right. She might not believe him.
All the more reason to get over there immediately and convince her.
He loved Fern, and he’d make her certain of it—as certain as the sun rising in the morning of a brand-new day.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Barbara Schmucker lived up to her reputation. She answered the door scowling at Reuben as if he were a salesman and she had no time for such nonsense. She wore a ratty bathrobe, with uncovered head and bright pink slippers on her feet. “What do you want?” she said, revealing a mouth devoid of teeth.
“It wonders me if I could see Fern,” he said.
“You’ve got no business coming over this early. Folks isn’t even dressed yet.”
Reuben would have to temper his eagerness. Barbara seemed like someone who despised the eager type. “I’m sorry. I need to see Fern. She wasn’t feeling well last night. Is she still in bed?”
“How would I know? It’s bad enough she’s here. I can’t be expected to look out for her comings and goings.”
Fern had lived here for three months without complaint. It made Reuben even more ashamed. He’d never asked Fern about her living situation. She’d never volunteered any information. If Barbara Schmucker was as ornery as she seemed, Reuben would insist that Fern move in with Mammi and Dawdi, and he’d sleep in the barn from now on. Fern had enough hardship in her life than to have to deal with Barbara Schmucker on a daily basis.
“Would you . . . do you think you could go check?” he said, even at the risk of making Barbara angrier than she already was. Fern’s bike was leaning against the corner of the house. She had to be here, and he had to see her. He wouldn’t leave without speaking to her, no matter how early it was.
“Go check for yourself,” Barbara said. “You’ve got legs. The doctor took both my legs off when my babies was born.”
Reuben stole a look at Barbara’s feet. She definitely had legs. Was she unwell in the head? “Okay,” he said, stepping into the house. “Which room is hers?”
Barbara took a step back and picked up a baseball bat that was propped against the wall. “Get out of here. I don’t let robbers in the house.”
Reuben’s heart raced as he quickly stepped away from the bat and out of the house. Fern was definitely coming back to Huckleberry Hill with him. He wouldn’t stand for her to stay one more minute in Barbara Schmucker’s house.
Barbara slammed the door in his face, and Reuben stood motionless on the porch. What had just happened? Was Fern all right in there? How was he ever to find out? Maybe he should go back to Huckleberry Hill and fetch Mammi. She seemed to know Barbara Schmucker well enough. Reuben lingered on the porch. But how could he just leave Fern here with this horrible woman?
The door slowly opened, and Reuben stepped back just in case Barbara came after him with that bat. A small man with dark gray eyes, a weathered face, and a withered expression stood in the doorway.
Reuben kept his distance, in case of bats. “Hello. I’m Reuben Helmuth. I’m looking for Fern King.”
The man grabbed onto his beard as if it were a handle. “Felty’s boy?”
“He’s my dawdi.”
He eyed Reuben carefully. “You have his eyes. And his height.”
“I hope I didn’t frighten Barbara . . . your wife?”
The man nodded as if the small movement made him tired.
“I meant no harm,” Reuben said. “I came to get Fern.” And take her away forever.
The man glanced back, as if getting permission from someone, then stepped out onto the porch and shut the door behind him. “Barbara is a gute woman, but she hasn’t been the same since the last baby died.”
Her own baby? Because Barbara and her husband couldn’t have been much younger than sixty. “Ach. I’m sorry.”
The man held out his hand for Reuben to shake. “I’m Wally. Any relative of Felty’s is a friend of mine. Felty never looks at me or my wife cross-eyed.”
“He’s a gute man.”
Wally started down the porch steps. Did he think to persuade Reuben to leave? Because he wasn’t going anywhere without Fern. He’d neglected her enough already. “Fern’s a sweet little thing,” Wally said, strolling across his lawn, which was more weeds and wildflowers than grass. A rubber tire sat in the middle of the yard as did several pieces of rusty metal and some flattened grocery bags. Reuben couldn’t do anything but follow. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more for her,” Wally said, “but the way things are with Barbara make it hard. Fern said the barn was okay, but I never felt quite right about it. The most important thing is to keep Barbara happy.”
Dread grew in Reuben’s chest like a poisonous mushroom as all thoughts of happiness disappeared. What had Fern been up to? And why hadn’t Reuben known about it?
Wally led him behind the house, where a substantial white barn loomed over a green pasture. They trudged up the gentle slope to the barn, where Reuben’s disquiet grew louder. Wally opened a small door at the back of the barn and stuck his head into what looked like a tiny storage room. “Fern?” he said. He opened the door wider and motioned for Reuben to go in ahead of him. “She’s not here. Must have gone out early this morning.”
Reuben stepped into the room and felt dizzy. A rickety-looking cot stood in the corner of the old storage room with rotting wood shelves and a flaking cement floor.
“She cleaned it up real nice,” Wally said. “The cobwebs were as thick as my finger when she moved in.”
A half-eaten tub of peanut-butter-chocolate drops sat on one of the shelves, along with a watering can and four pots. A folded blanket was spread over the top of the cot with two more blankets neatly folded at the foot of it. She’d obviously used the one blanket as a mattress and the other two as her bedding. Had she slept here all this time? He barely had the heart to ask, for fear of the horrible answer. “What did she use for heat?”
Wally’s weak smile faded to nothing. “It’s warmer in here than outside.”
Reuben sank to the cot and massaged the spot right above his left eyebrow. How could Wally have let Fern live like this? How had Fern kept it a secret? How had Reuben been so utterly blind?
Wally pointed to a small, enclosed space off the storage room with a hose sticking through an open window and a drain in the floor. “She rigged up a nice shower, and the outhouse is just over that little hill.”
“What did she . . . how did she . . . did she eat with you?” Reuben lost the ability to speak. There were no words.
Wally seemed to shrink smaller and smaller with each word. “Barbara wouldn’t allow it. Fern insists she’s okay. She says she eats at her friends’ houses. She seems content enough.”
Content? Reuben wanted to upend the cot and smash every last one of those peanut-butter-chocolate drops. How could Wally think Fern was content?
Absentmindedly, Wally rubbed his hand along one of the shelves. “Nice and clean,” he said, losing his smile when he met eyes with Reuben. “She came to us unexpected and said she was only staying long enough to help a friend. She has stayed many weeks longer than she said she would. What could I do? Barbara don’t like folks in the house.”
You should have given her a home and food and heat. That’s what you should have done.
How could Reuben be angry with Wally Schmucker when he himself hadn’t bothered to find out where Fern had been living?
He’d been too wrapped up in his own problems to notice. She had come to Bonduel for him and only him. He’d wasted so much energy on trying to be liked that he’d forgotten how to be kind. Fern had been nothing but helpful and anxious for his well-being, and he’d gotten worked up over a thousand little nothings while Fe
rn lived like a dog in Wally Schmucker’s barn.
“It’s a real nice little room,” Wally said, but Reuben couldn’t begin to agree. Wally was only trying to make himself feel good, and Reuben knew better. There was no justification for this. No reason for Fern to live in a barn for the sake of an ungrateful, arrogant boy like Reuben Helmuth.
And how had he repaid her?
He’d shown Fern—beautiful, gentle Fern—contempt he wouldn’t have given an enemy, all because his pride had been wounded by insignificant, petty Sadie Yoder. The burden of his mistakes was too great to bear. A groan came from deep within his throat, and he rubbed the back of his neck.
“I’m sure she ain’t gone far,” Wally said. “Her bike’s still here. I gave it to her to ride even though Barbara was against it. We weren’t using it.”
Short of wandering the town in search of the girl he loved, Reuben had no idea what to do. He had to find Fern, but she seemed to be further away than ever. “Maybe I’ll wait here until she gets back.”
“I don’t think it’s quite the right thing to have a boy wait in a girl’s bedroom.”
Reuben lifted his head and stared at Wally in disbelief. This wasn’t a bedroom. It was a cold, empty, filthy storeroom where Fern had been sleeping for three months. What did Wally know about what was right and proper? Reuben worked hard to keep the nastiness out of his voice. “I just want to talk to her. That’s all. And I’ll be taking her to Huckleberry Hill to stay. She shouldn’t be sleeping in your storeroom.”
Wally pursed his lips. “Barbara didn’t want her in the house.”
“She’ll be gone by nightfall.”
“I’ll come back for the blankets later. Barbara’s been worried about them.” Wally left the door open, and Reuben could hear his fading footsteps as he went back to the house.
With his emotions pulled so taut he could barely think, Reuben gazed around the storeroom, surprised at how barren it felt. Except for the peanut-butter-chocolate drops, there wasn’t a sign of Fern anywhere. She wasn’t rich by any means, but she did own more than one dress and an extra pair of shoes. She went without shoes so often that Reuben expected to see at least one pair.
Return to Huckleberry Hill Page 28
