Huckleberry Christmas (15 page)

Elderly Edna Mast answered the door, accepted her basket of goodies, and handed out candy canes. They wished her a merry Christmas and went back to the wagon.

True to his word, Tyler stuck to Beth like glue. Just in case Vernon decided that one particular bale was his territory, they retrieved Beth’s blankets and sat on the other side of the wagon but still behind the tires, at Tyler’s insistence.

Unfortunately, Vernon found them. He climbed onto the wagon and stared at Beth and Tyler as if trying to reason out a difficult arithmetic problem, probably involving fractions. Without a word, he stepped over Tyler’s feet and plunked next to Beth on the four inches of hay to her right. Surprised amusement popped onto Tyler’s face.

Beth slid closer to Tyler to give Vernon more room and bit her lip to keep from laughing. She was squished between Vernon’s ample frame and Tyler’s lean one.

Vernon balanced precariously on one side of his hinnerdale while propping his foot on the hay bale next to them to keep from falling over. “Tyler,” he said. “Do you like to fish? Beth and I are going fly-fishing as soon as the weather warms up.”

Tyler wrapped his arm around Beth and gently pushed her to stand. She stood, and he scooted along the hay bale behind her while nudging her to his right, effectively trading places with her. He squeezed himself as close to Vernon as he could, took Beth’s arm, and directed her to sit. Grateful beyond words, all she could do was smile at him with her whole heart.

He winked at her as the wagon lurched forward and the carolers began to sing. Had he any idea of the butterflies he unleashed in her stomach when he behaved like that?

“What flies do you like to use?” Tyler asked, as if he hadn’t just scrambled Vernon’s plans like eggs.

“If it’s late summer, I always fish with a Joe’s Hopper. I tie my own.” Vernon leaned forward, pushing harder against Tyler so he could talk to Beth. Tyler, as solid as an oak, held his ground. “Beth, if you come to my house tomorrow, I can show you how to tie any fly you want.”

“Where do you like to fish?” Tyler asked.

“Oh, anywhere I can get to in a day. The best spot is the Kickapoo River, but I have to take a bus to go all the way out there. My cousin lives along the West Fork and lets me bunk with him for a week in the summer. I caught a brown trout there once. Three feet long.”

“I don’t get out much anymore with the dairy growing and the cows needing to be milked.”

For the next fifteen minutes, Tyler listened attentively while Vernon told one fish story after another. Beth learned that the best way to catch a big trout was with a Yellow Zonker or a Muddler Minnow, whatever those were, and that Shawano Lake had good pike fishing. She marveled at Tyler’s unfailingly kindness, even when listening to Vernon Schmucker drone on about fishing.

Vernon would have talked for another three hours if they hadn’t pulled up to the Simons’ house just off the main road.

The Simons were an old Englisch couple who lived in the heart of Bonduel. Len Simon, who used to be a doctor, was confined to a wheelchair and had lost most of his eyesight. The Simons had always been extremely kind to the Amish folk in Bonduel, giving them cheap medical care, delivering babies, and driving them to town in emergencies.

In an effort to avoid Vernon—there was a limit to even Tyler’s patience—Tyler and Beth blended into the center of the crowd of carolers on the porch. Tyler’s face glowed with warmth as he reached down, tugged Beth’s glove off, and took her hand.

She stared at him with wide eyes. “What are you doing?” she whispered, not at all eager for him to pull away.

“There are so many people pressing in on us that no one will even notice.” His eyes flashed mischievously. “And my fingers have been itching to touch yours ever since you climbed out of Davy Miller’s buggy.”

She laughed lightly. “You are an incorrigible tease.”

“You’re right,” he said. “The itching started about three months ago.”

His smile warmed the air a good ten degrees as the carolers started singing “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing.” Tyler sang like Dawdi would have sung—at the top of his lungs. The only difference was that it was impossible for Tyler to sing one note on pitch. He didn’t seem to care that his notes were sour. He sang as if his voice could soar to the sky and serenade the angels.

His eyes twinkled when he saw her laughing at him. “I know how much you like my voice,” he said. “You let me hold your hand. I can’t keep from singing.”

She giggled, and he sang louder just to make her laugh. “Please, Tyler, sing softer or the Simons will ask us to stay away next Christmas.”

Grinning, he lowered his voice so he wouldn’t be heard over the other singers. Beth sighed. It was better that way.

Mrs. Simon threw the door wide open and clapped her hands. “Let me get Len. He’ll want to hear you.” She disappeared down the hall and reappeared pushing her husband in his wheelchair. Beth marveled at how he always seemed to be smiling, even though he couldn’t walk or see.

“Come on in,” Mrs. Simon said as she wheeled her husband into the living room. “I’ll make some hot chocolate.”

Dr. Simon squinted, trying to make out the shapes of the people in his house. “Sing us one of your German carols. They take me right back to my days in the Army.”

They filed into the house with Erla and Menno leading the way. The two dozen of them fit nicely into the Simons’ spacious living room.

Tyler let go of Beth, but he cupped his hand over her elbow and led her to stand by the hearth, where a fire crackled merrily. “Is this too warm?” he said.

“Nae, it feels gute.”

They sang three songs, all in German, and Dr. Simon sang along when he remembered the words. Tyler sang so softly that not even Beth could hear him, but he did it with a smile, so she knew he didn’t mind.

Even though she longed for the feel of his hand again, Tyler couldn’t very well hold her hand in plain sight of everybody, but he gazed at her with warmth to rival the fire. Pleasant goose bumps tickled her skin.

Mrs. Simon handed out hot chocolate with tiny marshmallows, and Erla, in turn, gave the Simons the goodie basket.

As they sipped their hot chocolate, Vernon pushed his way between Tyler and Beth and leaned over to warm his hands by the fire. “If you can’t make yummasetti, I don’t mind meatloaf and stuffing,” he said.

Beth shook her head and laughed. What had Tyler said about Vernon? He was nothing if not persistent? “I’m really quite hopeless as a cook.”

Tyler didn’t smile, but his eyes flashed with amusement. “I make very gute pancakes and bacon.”

Vernon wrinkled his forehead until it looked like a nicely plowed field. “Can you bake bread?”

“Amos said I make it too dry.”

Clouds gathered on Tyler’s face. “Amos mostly didn’t know what he was talking about.” After he drank the last of his hot chocolate, he said, “I’ll be right back.” He turned and walked away.

Beth almost screamed at him to come back. He’d promised to stick by her side, and he’d left her stranded with Vernon Schmucker, who was excessively preoccupied with food. And fishing.

“Do you know how to make pie? I love raisin pie.”

Beth kept her gaze glued to Tyler as he made his way to Erla and whispered something in her ear. Beth didn’t know what he was saying, but Erla seemed to grow increasingly irritated as he spoke. She folded her arms, glanced at Beth, and rolled her eyes.

Still talking, Tyler spread his arms as if he were asking for a hug. Erla cracked a smile and nodded. “Denki,” Beth heard Tyler say.

The carolers began filing out the door, and Tyler returned to Beth as if she would disappear if he didn’t hurry. Relief soaked her like rainwater.

Tyler took Beth’s hand, right there in plain sight of Vernon. “My mamm has a gute recipe for whoopie pies,” Tyler said. “Do you like whoopie pies?”

At this point, Vernon probably felt quite annoyed. He couldn’t get a word in edgewise without Tyler interrupting him. Beth hid a smile, partly because of the look on Vernon’s face and partly because Tyler’s hand felt so nice.

Walking against the tide, Menno parted the crowd of carolers parading out the door and gave Vernon a firm pat on the back. “Vernon,” he said. “Erla needs you to be our
Vorsinger
. She’s afraid everyone will run out of enthusiasm for the caroling unless you keep us going.”

Menno, with his solid build and firm grip, pulled Vernon away from Beth and Tyler even as Vernon tried to protest.

“Erla won’t take no for an answer,” Menno added.

Vernon glanced at Beth in confusion, but apparently, Menno didn’t take no for an answer either. They were soon out the door.

Tyler squeezed Beth’s hand. “Sorry about leaving you with Vernon like that, but I had to make sure he wouldn’t ruin the rest of our evening.”

“What did you do?”

“I told Erla it was her turn to entertain him. He’s been tagging along with us long enough. No offense to Vernon, but I don’t want to share you with anybody tonight.”

Maybe she should have been offended that Tyler acted as if he had a right to monopolize her or manipulate events to be with her. Instead, her heart fluttered, and she found herself smiling unintentionally.

They were the last two onto the wagon. Vernon stood at the front, leading the group in “Coventry Carol,” which had a very nice bass part. Their blankets waited for them. Once they sat down, Tyler sidled close to her and wrapped the biggest blanket around Beth’s shoulders. He didn’t withdraw his arm.

She raised her eyebrows.

He smiled playfully. “I don’t want you to get cold.” “I’m plenty warm.”

“Because I’ve got my arm around you. Does this bother you? Because I think it must be what Heaven feels like.”

She felt her face heat up. “I don’t mind.”

“And no one can see that I’ve got my arm around you under this blanket.”

Beth giggled. “You just fell off the turnip truck if you believe no one can see us. You’re too close not to attract attention.”

Tyler’s eyes danced as he squeezed her arm. “Gute. People are always happier if they have something to gossip about.”

She leaned against him and let him enfold her in his arms. “I’d hate to disappoint anyone.”

The clouds parted, and Beth glimpsed a sliver of moon surrounded by a patch of bright stars. Their breath hung in the air as the clip-clop of horse hooves echoed in the frosty evening above the singing. Beth didn’t think she’d ever been so content. She glanced at Tyler. He studied her face with that endearing seriousness he wore like a favorite hat.

“Your eyes reflect the moonlight,” he whispered.

“So do yours.”

“Do you know what I see when I look in your eyes?”

His intensity unnerved her. Better to make him laugh. “Sheer exhaustion?”

He determined not to be distracted. “I see a thousand stories waiting to be told.” He smoothed his finger down her cheek. “You’re laughing in all of them.”

She held absolutely still, savoring his touch as her surroundings seemed to disappear. They might have been the only people in the world. His soft, low voice lingered like the scent of cinnamon pinecones and caressed her with its deep longing. Beth could have closed her eyes and listened to it forever.

Vernon’s bass part could be heard above all other singers. “
Away in a manger, no holding hands on the hayride
.”

Both Tyler and Beth glanced up in surprise to see Vernon glowering at them pointedly, as if he were the hayride enforcement officer.

Beth turned to Tyler. Amusement flashed in his eyes. Beth stifled her laughter by clapping her gloved hand over her mouth.

Some heads turned, but Tyler didn’t show any inclination to put even a little space between them. If anything, he tightened his arm around her, without taking his eyes from her face. “You should always be laughing,” he said.

The horses turned up the lane to Huckleberry Hill. Mammi and Dawdi were their last stop. Halfway up, they all jumped off the wagon and walked. The lane had become a little steep and too much of a burden for the team of horses pulling their weight. Tyler wasn’t even subtle about it. He grabbed Beth’s hand and trudged up the hill without the slightest sign that his actions were out of the ordinary or inappropriate.

When they reached the top of the hill, the carolers took a moment to catch their breath, and then Vernon led everybody in “Silent Night.” She and Tyler fell to the back of the group as they ambled to the porch.

The music floated up among the tall, bare maples and echoed off the snowdrifts. Beth closed her eyes to savor the sweet sound of voices blended together to sing of Jesus’s birth.

A single pillar candle burned in the front window. The wreath on Mammi’s front door was made from different size balls of red, green, and white yarn glued to a Styrofoam wreath. A pair of knitting needles stuck out of one of the green balls and added a festive touch to the front porch.

Mammi opened the door with Toby in her arms. Beaming like a lighthouse, she whispered in Toby’s ear. Toby shaped his mouth into an O and listened spellbound as they finished their song. When the last strains of heavenly peace faded into the night, everyone paused momentarily in silent reverence. Even Toby stilled in Mammi’s arms as a hush fell over the carolers.

Of course, Toby’s wonderment was as short-lived as his attention span. The quiet came to an end when he clapped his hands and yelled at the singers. “Ball, ball.”

Several people laughed. Beth smiled. Toby had a way of wheedling his way into people’s affections.

“What a surprise this is,” Mammi said. “I thought you only went caroling to the shut-ins and the elderly. Come in and sing for Felty.”

One by one they stepped into Mammi’s house, stomping their snow-covered boots and wiping their feet on the mat. Beth and Tyler were the last to enter. As soon as Toby saw them, he reached out his arms for Tyler. “Mommy,” he said, rejoicing when Tyler opened his arms wide and enfolded Toby in a bear hug, complete with growling and tickling.