Huckleberry Harvest (23 page)

“I have to make sure you get home safely.”

“Why should you care?” She threw the words behind her.

“A girl should never walk home alone.”

“If I get run over by a car or fall into a ditch, at least I won’t be able to bother you anymore.”

He shoved the air out of his lungs in irritation. “Mandy, my dat’s life is none of your concern.”

She nearly tripped as she tried to go faster. “Follow me home if you must, but don’t lecture me.”

“Why would I lecture you? You don’t listen.”

Her steps faltered before she quickly recovered and crossed to the other side of the road. Walking on the opposite side parallel with Mandy, he could see her profile. Her face looked drawn and bleak, like a barren tree in the dead of winter.

He shouldn’t have said that. He’d hurt her feelings when all he wanted to do was talk some sense into her. He was justified in his anger, after all.

Noah started to breathe heavily as he tried to keep up with her. She moved extremely fast for a girl in a long coat and a dress. “If you don’t slow down, you’re going to keel over from exhaustion.”

“If you’re worried about having to carry me home,” she snapped, “don’t be. I’d rather crawl on my hands and knees than let you touch me. I wouldn’t want to be any more of a nuisance than I already am.”

“I’m just saying, it’s a long way home and—”

She stuck her nose in the air. “If I die along the trail, just call the bishop and have him send a buggy. Leave Chester to watch over my body. You need not be bothered.”

“Now you’re being silly.”

“Leave me alone, Noah.”

He stopped trying to reason with her and fell back a few paces. Chester fell back with him. The only sounds between them were the crunch of their footfalls on gravel and their shared labored breathing plus Chester’s panting. At least Chester was getting some good exercise.

No communication at all was better than a quarrel. All he needed to do was see her safely home, and then he’d never have to speak to her again.

That thought slammed into him, and he nearly tripped over his own feet. What was he thinking? He might be ferociously angry and acutely humiliated, but he might shrivel up like a grape in the sun if he wasn’t able to see Mandy again.

In the two weeks since she’d shown up on his porch looking like a wet hen with an entire tail of ruffled feathers, his whole world had changed. He went to bed at night looking forward to waking up the next morning. He caught himself smiling when nobody was looking and dreaming up ways to make her laugh when she was near. He whistled at work and bristled at the sight of knitted pot holders.

She had suddenly become very important to him. Essential, really. He couldn’t imagine doing without her.

Even as angry as he was, he loathed the invisible wall of silence between them. He wanted to hear her voice more than any other sound in the world. He didn’t even care if she snapped at him. And what could he do to get her to flash one of her adorable, freckle-garnished smiles?

His hopes went south when he glanced across the road. Her posture was stiff and unyielding, her face turned from him as if he didn’t exist.

What if she never wanted to talk to him again?

A lump of coal settled in the bottom of his gut.

After about fifteen minutes, Mandy began to slacken her pace. Gute. She probably wouldn’t faint.

Not that he would mind carrying her home, even if she had promised to crawl all the way. The last time she’d been comfortably tucked into his arms, she’d been soaking wet and hostile. He hadn’t truly appreciated the experience. He wouldn’t make that same mistake twice.

She slowed to a stroll, and he noticed she limped slightly. Had she sprained her ankle?

“You’re limping,” he said.

She turned her head and looked at him as if she was surprised he was still following her. “I’m not limping.”

“Did you hurt yourself?”

She shook her head as if she were completely fed up with him. “I have a pebble in my shoe.”

“Why don’t you take it out?”

“I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you by taking the time to do it. I know you’ve got more important things to do than babysit Mandy Helmuth.”

“I can wait.” When she didn’t show any signs of stopping, he added, “You’ll get a blister.”

They walked alongside a fenced pasture where a stile with wide steps cut over one of the fences. Mandy veered toward it. After shrugging out of her oversized coat, she sat on the second stile step and removed her shoe.

Chester ducked under the fence and ran around the pasture, then ducked back out and ran a few paces down the road as if impatient to be going again.

Mandy frowned at Noah when he came up beside her and then grimaced when she took off her shoe. Even through her black stockings, Noah could see the dark spot of blood at her heel. “Blister?” he asked.

“Sharp pebble.”

“Can you walk okay?”

Her head was lowered so he couldn’t see her face and couldn’t tell how much pain she was in. She’d walked fast and hard. Who knew how long the pebble had been cutting into her skin.

“I don’t mind carrying you, Mandy,” he said, knowing she wouldn’t give him satisfaction by saying yes.

She turned her shoe upside down and dumped out, not one, but a handful of pebbles. “I . . . I’ll crawl.” She sniffled quietly.

Was she crying?

He nudged her chin up with his finger. Yep. A few tears etched meandering trails down her face. His gut clenched. He couldn’t stand to see her cry. “How bad does it hurt?”

His touch seemed to break whatever dam held all those tears back. She dropped her shoe and scrunched her face into a frown. “Oh, Noah,” she said, disintegrating into a pitiful sob.

Whatever anger he was still harboring melted like a marshmallow over a hot flame. How could he keep from softening into a gooey hunk of sugar when the tears glistened in her eyes as brilliantly as young leaves in the springtime? He squatted beside her and laid a hand over her arm. “It’s okay. Don’t cry. I promise to get you home.”

She buried her face in her hands and wailed louder. “It’s not that.”

“I won’t make you crawl, and I promise not to gloat about it.” By some miracle, there was a clean tissue in his coat pocket. He handed it to her.

“I only wanted to help your dat,” she said, smoothing the tissue with her hand. “I didn’t mean to humiliate you.”

“I know,” he said. He wanted to be honest, even at the risk of inciting more tears. “But it still stings, even when you mean well.”

Her lips quivered as she took a gulp of air. “When I met Jessica, I got carried away in all my excitement. My cousin’s best friend almost died of a drug overdose. A counselor and a rehab program got him back on his feet. Now he’s a pastor in Ohio.”

“That’s never going to be my dat.”

Her lips twitched upward. “Well, he’ll probably never be a pastor.” She dabbed at the moisture on her face. “I feel so deerich. The last thing in the world I would ever do is purposefully hurt you or your dat. Do you believe that?”

He nodded. “You don’t try to humiliate me. What other girl would buy a strange pair of sunglasses to keep my secret safe?”

She sprouted a weak smile.

He couldn’t resist any longer. Not many girls could manage to look so pretty with a runny nose. He slid his hand down her arm and laced his fingers with hers. She leaned back slightly but didn’t pull away. “It hurts me when you won’t take my requests seriously,” he said. “My family is my business.”

She pursed her lips and stared at her hand in his. “But is this how you want to live the rest of your life? Taking care of your dat? What happens if you want to marry and raise your own family?”

If she only knew how these questions tortured him. Mamm had tried again and again to convince Dat to stop drinking. The pleading always ended in arguments, heartache, and shame. Noah could live with the heartache and dat’s drunken rages, but he couldn’t bear the shame.

“Mandy, God said to be still,” he repeated, in case she hadn’t believed him the first time.

“That doesn’t mean to do nothing. Your dat can’t get better without help. Why don’t you want to help him?”

She couldn’t know that her accusation felt like a slap in the face. “I’ve suffered enough humiliation.”

One shoe off and one shoe on, she got to her feet and stood on the first step of the stile so they were nearly eye-to-eye. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

He couldn’t tear his gaze from her face. “It doesn’t matter.”

“You are a godly man, Noah. Of course it matters.”

He reached up and brushed his thumb across her lower lip. He had meant it as a gesture to persuade her to stop talking, but when his rough skin met her petal-soft mouth, he felt as if someone had set him on fire. His breath caught in his throat.

She held perfectly still as he grazed his thumb lightly along the line of her bottom lip and imagined what it would be like to breathe her in with every breath and feel the soft curve of her mouth on his.

The fire raged inside until he thought he might melt. Was it right to stand this close? To entertain these overpowering feelings? Struggle as he might, he couldn’t remember one lecture from his mamm, although there must have been dozens knocking around in that brain of his. At that moment, it didn’t matter what Mamm had taught him. Mandy smelled like roses and ice cream and looked more beautiful than pink tulips blooming on the hillside. She was the sun, the moon, and the stars.

Slowly, gently, he slid his arms around her waist and pulled her close to him. She placed her palms flat on his chest and lifted her face to his. With supreme gentleness and unquenchable thirst, he brought his lips down on hers. In the dimming light of sunset, his world seemed to explode with the brightness of a thousand stars. Her lips were softer than he could ever have imagined, and her embrace proved warmer than a summer’s day. She snaked her hands around his neck.

Without surrendering his claim on Mandy’s mouth, he tightened his arms around her. He stepped back so that her feet slid off the step and he held her in his arms, completely and unyieldingly. A sigh came from deep in her throat.

Her touch, her warmth, only served to stoke the fires burning wildly inside him. The more he drank, the thirstier he became. “Mandy,” he whispered. There would never be any other words left for him to say. She filled every space inside him.

Just when he thought he might burst into flames, he felt the wetness of her tears against his face. He pulled away slightly and looked into her eyes. She smiled at him through her tears.

His heart sank to his toes as he relaxed his grip and let her feet find purchase on the stile step. “I’m sorry if I’ve done something I shouldn’t have. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“Nothing like that,” she whispered as she pulled him back into a tight embrace. “I’m just happy you don’t hate me.”

“Hate you? I’m turned every which way in love with you yet.”

“Even though I’m irritating and nosy?”

“Enough talk. Is it okay if I kiss you again?”

She arched an eyebrow. “I’ll be annoyed if you don’t.”

He pulled her close again and slanted his lips over hers. She felt so good in his arms, as if she belonged snugly close to his heart. Right now, it didn’t even matter that he wasn’t good enough for her or that a girl like her would never, ever consider a boy like him. She didn’t pull away from him, and he’d be ungrateful to wish for more.

The fire inside him burned until he should have been reduced to a pile of ashes. He took Mandy’s arms and gently nudged her away.

She frowned at him. “I’m not ready to be done yet.”

He laid an affectionate kiss on her forehead. “My mamm told me never to go so far that I can’t find my way back, and I don’t know about you, but I’m a little disoriented.”

She giggled. “I’m lost in a thick forest somewhere in Canada.”

“I’m in China.”

“I hear China is very interesting.”

He squeezed her arms. “It’s amazing.”

Smiling, they stared at each other for a few seconds trying to regain their bearings when Chester nudged his nose against Mandy’s hand. She gave Chester an affectionate pat on the head before sinking to the step and picking up her shoe. “I should get back. Mammi said she’d hold dinner for me. Couscous with clam sauce.”

Noah reached into his pocket and pulled out the cold, dry piece of toast crumbling to pieces at the bottom of his pocket. “I saved this for you.”

She shoved her lips to one side of her face and arched an eyebrow. “How long have you been saving it? Since Christmas?”

“I snatched it from my plate as I ran out the door. I’m not sure what I was thinking except that food seems to soften you up.”

“Well, maybe not a stale piece of toast that’s been sitting in your linty pocket.” She finished lacing her shoe and stood.

He dangled it in front of her face. “It’s either this or couscous with oyster sauce.”

“Clam.” She hesitated for mere moments before plucking the toast from his fingers and taking a big bite. “I hope nothing unsanitary has been in that pocket.”

“Does a frog count?”

She stopped chewing as her tongue lolled out of her mouth.

He chuckled, taking delight in every expression on her face. “I’m joking. I haven’t kept frogs in my pocket since I was about ten.”

She held the piece of bread out for him. “Want a bite?”

He shook his head. “You need it more than I do.”

She shrugged. “This toast isn’t bad, but you should use more butter. Toast is only delicious when it’s slathered with about a quarter stick of butter.”

He made a face. “I like my toast dry.”

“Jah, I can see that.” She offered Chester the last bite, and he gobbled it up without even questioning whose pocket it had been in. “I’m full now. Let’s go. I’ve been avoiding the clam sauce long enough.”