Mary put her hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle, which was about as effective as Lily trying to hold back the river with her arm. “Vernon loves doughnuts.”
“His dat has a nice wheelwright shop,” Rose said.
Mary never stayed interested in one topic for very long. She caught her breath as if she’d just remembered something and grabbed Lily’s hand. “I want to show you what I found.” She nodded to Rose and Poppy. “We’ll be right back.” Without waiting for Lily’s agreement, she pulled her across the lawn, up the porch steps, and into the house.
Lily couldn’t help but smile at Mary’s enthusiasm. If only her own life could be so blissfully wunderbarr.
Mary pulled a jar of honey from the cupboard and handed it to Lily. It had the familiar Honeybee Sisters label on it. “Look at this,” she said, as if she’d discovered a hundred-dollar bill in one of Aunt B’s books.
“Jah,” Lily said. “Honey from last season. I’m taking the new jars to Paul this week.”
“Nae, silly,” Mary said. She turned the jar in Lily’s hand so Lily saw the unfamiliar label on the back. “I found this in a little store in Coloma when I visited my cousin last week. I kept telling everybody, ‘I know the Honeybee Schwesters. I know them.’ You’re famous. It made me so excited, I just had to buy it.”
Coloma? “It wonders me how our honey made it all the way to Coloma.”
Mary raised her eyebrows. “You didn’t give it to them?”
“Nae. We sell our honey to Paul, and he sells it at the market.”
“It’s a mystery,” Mary said, quite intrigued with the idea.
“Jah. I . . . don’t understand.”
Mary pointed to the small label on the back of the jar. “Here’s their phone number. Why don’t you ask them?”
“I’ll call at the phone shack as soon as I get home.”
Giggling was Mary’s sincerest form of communication. “No need. James just got a cell phone, and he hides it in his underwear drawer. I don’t mind fishing it out for you.”
“Are you sure?” Lily said, hoping the answer was yes. Much as she hated the thought of Mary having to rifle through James’s underwear, she might die of curiosity if she couldn’t call that store immediately. Where had they come by a jar of Honeybee Sisters honey?
Mary was already halfway down the hall. “He can’t take it to work,” she called. “But he’s on it constantly in the evenings. Dat keeps threatening to throw it in the creek.”
Lily heard muffled noises as Mary searched for James’s phone and a drawer slamming when she’d found it. Smiling as if she were the cleverest girl in Wisconsin, she came back into the kitchen and handed the phone to Lily. “James thinks it’s safe with his underwear. He’ll never know how often we steal it.”
Lily quickly turned it on, her heart racing with an overpowering curiosity. Her hopes fizzled when she looked at the screen. “It has a password.”
“Ach, we figured that out in two tries. It’s Lily.”
Lily tried not to let her eyes pop out of her head. “Me?”
Mary giggled again. “He has a crush on you, and he got his phone the day after you came to our doughnut stand with Paul. I guess you were fresh on his mind.”
Lily didn’t have time to dwell on how endearing James’s password was. She typed it in and dialed the number on the label.
A man with a heavy Southern accent answered the phone. “Annie’s Gifts.”
Her tongue tripped all over itself. “Hello, I’m Lily Christner. Do you know me?” Was that all she had to say for herself? She mentally slapped her palm against her forehead.
A moment of silence on the other end. He was probably wondering if he should hang up on the strange young lady who obviously didn’t have her wits about her. “Hold on,” he said. She heard him turn his face from the receiver and yell, “Annie, do we know Lily Christner?”
Someone replied in the background. Another pause before he came back. “No, sweetie. We don’t know you.”
“I’m sorry. What I meant was, one of my friends bought some of my honey from your store last week.”
“Some of your honey?”
“I am the Honeybee Sisters.” Why was she so discombobulated all of a sudden? “I mean, I am one of the Honeybee Sisters, and my friend said you have some of our honey in your store.”
She pulled the phone away from her ear as the man practically shouted. “The Honeybee Sisters! Well, of course we know who you are. The tourists love your honey. We can’t keep it in stock. He brought us all he had not four months ago and we’re completely out.”
He? “Who brought you our honey?”
The man again turned from the phone. “Annie, what’s the name of the Amish fellow who brings us the honey?”
Dread and confusion swirled about Lily like a dust devil as she waited. She knew who the Amish fellow was before the man even said it.
“He promised to bring us more next week,” the man said. “His name is Paul Glick.”
Paul Glick. Her boyfriend. The one who constantly reminded her what a burden it was to store all that surplus honey. A wave of nausea crashed into her. How long had Paul been lying to her?
“He’s a real good salesman,” said the man. “Not that your honey needs a salesman. It sells itself.”
“How . . . how much is he asking for it?” It felt almost rude to mention money, but for her family, she had to be brave enough to ask the uncomfortable questions.
Again the man had to consult with someone else. “How much do we pay for that honey, Annie?” He paused. “$4.75. It flies off the shelves. We’re eager to get that next batch.” A woman in the background said something. “Annie says he just raised the price to $5.00 this morning with a promise to bring us double the pints.”
$5.00? That was an outrageous profit added onto what he was paying Lily. She felt worse than ill. She could sense the sweat beading on her forehead, and a sick, shaky weakness compelled her to sit down at Mary’s kitchen table.
Chewing on her fingernails, Mary sat next to Lily at the table and eyed her with concern. Lily tried to smile. The best she could manage was a grimace.
She did her best to sound casually cheerful over the phone. The man on the other end need never know that she felt as if she were crumbling into tiny bits of ragged glass. “I’m so glad to know that people like our honey. What do you sell it for?”
“It goes for $8.50 a pint. The tourists love anything that says ‘Amish’ on it.” The woman in the background said something else, and the man responded. “I’m glad you called, Lily Christner,” he said. “We told Paul we wanted to meet the amazing Honeybee Sisters, and he said you kind of keep to yourselves, like most of the Amish do. Still, you’re invited to come down anytime and see our store.”
“Thank you,” Lily said. “I appreciate the information.”
“You have a good day, sweetie.”
“You too.” Lily pressed the screen to disconnect, placed James’s phone on the table, and propped her head in her hand as an oppressive numbness set in. Was this friendship? Paul had always tried to protect her from the ruthless world of business. Is this what he was doing now? He had said a gute Amish frau shouldn’t concern herself with such things as money and profits. Surely he had wanted to protect her.
Surely.
Surely he had lied to her because he loved her.
Or because he really needed a new freezer.
If Mary hadn’t been sitting there, she would have burst into tears.
What had Paul done? And why had she let him do it?
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Lily didn’t like taking the buggy out alone at night, but Paul had asked her to come to the market at closing time on Tuesday, which was seven o’clock for the restaurant and market. Late by Amish standards, but the Glicks catered to many Englischers who kept the later hours.
Lily had spent more than twenty-four painful hours contemplating what Paul had done, and what, if anything, she should do about it. Afte
r reassuring Mary that she would be fine, she had pasted on a brave face at the quilting frolic yesterday and not said a word about honey to anyone. This morning she had read under her willow tree for almost two hours, but the time had done nothing to clear her head. She had been more confused and troubled and despondent than ever.
Paul had been right about at least one thing. She was an ignorant girl who couldn’t begin to handle the pressure and responsibility of caring for her family’s finances or the family honey business. No wonder he felt a duty to protect her.
On the other hand, he had told her that nobody would buy her honey but him. It cut deep that he had lied to her. Even if he had lied to protect her, it didn’t feel right. What else had he lied about? Could she trust anything he said anymore, even if his motives were unselfish? He was pocketing most of the profit that rightfully belonged to her family. Try as she might, she couldn’t talk herself into believing that he had done it for her own good.
Paul had asked her to meet him at the store tonight so they could make final arrangements for honey delivery tomorrow. He always had a check ready for her as soon as she delivered the honey.
This afternoon she had finally decided that she wouldn’t mention anything to Paul about the little store in Coloma that sold her honey for $8.50 a pint. Questions would only irritate him, and he’d accuse her of spying and sticking her nose into business that she was too naïve to understand. She’d rather not have a confrontation tonight—especially a confrontation that she knew she would lose.
She truly didn’t understand all of Paul’s business dealings, and she knew she’d only come across as ignorant and childish.
If she ever did find the courage to ask him, he’d probably laugh and say, I thought you knew! I’m saving all that money as a surprise for when we get married.
She would smile at his thoughtfulness. Oh, Paul, I never should have doubted.
The imaginary conversation gave her no comfort tonight. She tugged on the door handle of the market and found it locked. She must have been late. The Glicks locked their doors promptly at seven P.M., no matter what.
She cupped her hands around her eyes and peered into the store. The propane lanterns glowed brightly, and Paul was stocking one of the shelves at the back. He looked up when she tapped on the glass and smiled at her, not appearing the least bit annoyed at her tardiness. He didn’t even act put out that he had to walk all the way to the front of the store to let her in.
He unlocked the door, she stepped inside, and he locked it behind her. “I’m almost done stocking. Mamm and Ada are in the restaurant cleaning up. Do you want to see our new display of clocks? I hung all of them myself.”
“Of course,” Lily said, encouraged and relieved by his good mood.
He took her to the far wall where a variety of clocks hung on the wall, clocks with clear faces so she could see the inner mechanisms, clocks with large gold pendulums and wooden cases, big and small alike. “Look at this one.” He reached up and pushed a button on one of the clocks, and it chimed the tune to “Nearer, My God, to Thee.”
“Mammi has a clock like that,” Lily said.
“Too bad. I would have tried to sell her one.” Paul picked up a rag and buffed the glass on one of the clocks, then leaned his elbow on the counter. “I have good news. Dat says I can give you $1.25 a pint for the honey.”
Lily didn’t change her expression even though her mouth felt as dry as sawdust. Twenty-five cents more, the increase he had passed on to that little store in Coloma. She cleared her throat and told herself that Paul’s business dealings were for her own good. She almost made herself believe it. “I thought the price was set. What about your new freezer?”
“I told Dat that I love you more than a new freezer, and I know it would make you happy to get more money for your honey.”
Paul loved her more than a new freezer. The declaration didn’t make her heart flutter like it should have. All she felt was an oppressive weight that got heavier with every word from Paul’s mouth. “Denki, Paul. That’s very nice.”
He seemed disappointed by her reaction. “It’s more than nice, Lily. It’s because I love you.”
She tried her best to smile. Paul needed to see that she was bursting with gratitude. “It’s wunderbarr, Paul. More than I could have ever dreamed of.”
“Ach, Lily. You look so tired,” he said, as if he felt truly sorry for her. “The honey is such a hardship. Next year we’ll be married, and you’ll never have to work the hives again.”
“It won’t matter if we’re married. Aunt B and my sisters will still need me.”
“You won’t be helping,” Paul said. “You’ll be my wife.”
“Nae, Paul. I’ll always be there for my family.”
He furrowed his brow. “You don’t have to be difficult about it, Lily. We can cross that bridge when we come to it.”
She didn’t want to argue the point. She didn’t want to argue about anything. A good frau was supposed to be submissive, meek, and humble. She wanted to be a good frau.
To her surprise, he wrapped an arm around her waist. She let out a surprised gasp. “Say you’ll marry me,” he whispered. “Right now. It would make my mamm so happy if we marched into the restaurant and announced our engagement. Mamm would give you all the leftover rolls.”
Lily should have known he’d try to blindside her. She probably deserved it. She’d kept him waiting for a long time.
If Gotte had put them together, why did a mountain of dread loom over her whenever she thought about marriage to Paul? Why did she feel giddy and light-headed whenever Dan was near? She loved his kindness and his enthusiasm, and how her heart bounced wildly around in her chest whenever he came over. She frowned to herself. Dan was exciting and unpredictable and attractive.
Paul was steady and comfortable. She never felt giddy around him.
Who seemed the better choice for a sensible, intelligent young woman?
Paul studied her face and scowled. He took his hand from around her waist and folded his arms across his chest. “You’re thinking about Dan Kanagy.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Because if it hadn’t been for Dan, we’d be engaged by now. He’s filled your head with vain notions, and he means none of what he says to you. He’s only using your feelings to get revenge on me. He doesn’t like you, and he never did. I was the one who wiped away the tears when he made you cry.”
Lily didn’t know what to believe anymore. “I know, Paul. I’m sorry. It’s all so confusing.”
Paul stuck out his bottom lip. “It should be plain as day that Dan doesn’t love you and I do.” He swiped his hand across his mouth. “I didn’t want to have to tell you this, but we had a long talk at the auction. He called you ugly and lazy and stupid. I was so mad, my brothers had to hold me back from punching him, even though it would have gone against the Ordnung.”
Lily couldn’t have been more shocked if Paul had slapped her across the face—not because she believed for a minute that Dan had said those things, but because Paul would be so cruel as to make up such a horrible story.
And he had made it up, no doubt. He had lied about the honey. What could hold him back from lying about Dan? In her heart, Lily knew Dan well enough to know that he would never say such things. She fell momentarily speechless. If she accused Paul of lying, he’d be mad. If she questioned his motives, he’d be livid.
She lowered her eyes and took a deep breath. She’d succeeded in putting Paul in a bad mood. Surely he wouldn’t say such things if she hadn’t irritated him in the first place. “How could Dan have been so mean?” she managed to choke out, because that’s what she knew Paul wanted to hear.
“It’s how he is. He never had a nice word to say about you behind your back.”
She swallowed hard and took two steps backward. “I need to go, Paul. I will think on what you said.”
“I want an answer, Lily.”
“Tomorrow when I bring the honey,” she squeaked, before s
he turned around and hurried for the door. They hadn’t even talked about a check or a delivery time, but it didn’t matter. She ached to get out of the Glick Family Amish Market and go home where it was safe and easy with no turmoil or contention. Paul would simmer down by tomorrow morning. Maybe they could even talk about the price of honey and the little store in Coloma.
“I’ll be here tomorrow morning at eight,” she said.
Just go. Give him a chance to calm down.
She nearly made it to the door. “Don’t be late,” he said. “I hate it when you’re late.”
“Okay.”
“Before you come back tomorrow, repent of your vanity and remember Dan’s wickedness.”
Dan’s wickedness? Dan was nosy and tenacious and impulsive, but he was not wicked. He helped with the honey. He made mousetraps. He sent her to the moon when he kissed her. He told her he loved her and then showed her in every deed.
Love lifts and builds and never tears someone down. Love is kind and patient.
She caught her breath as Dan’s words seemed to pierce her soul. If what you and Paul have together is real love, then you’re right. I don’t understand love, and I never will.
Something snapped inside her, like a tree branch weighed down with wet snow. That same branch smacked her upside the head. This is not love, Lily, and you’ve known it for a long time.
She’d been too terrified by the truth to battle with the lies.
She couldn’t let Paul talk about Dan that way. She couldn’t let Paul abuse the person she loved the most in the whole world.
The person she loved most in the whole world.
The branch smacked her upside the head again. She had been so focused on loyalties and obligations that she had almost missed it. She loved Dan and she didn’t love Paul. She didn’t even like Paul. And she certainly didn’t like herself when she was with him.
A spark of something hard as nails and determined grew inside her. She wouldn’t stand up to Paul because Aunt Bitsy or Rose or Poppy or even Dan wanted her to. She had to stand up to Paul for herself, or she would bend until she broke. For her own sake, she would find the courage.
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