Huckleberry Harvest (6 page)

She met his eyes, then looked away and seemed to come to rest even though she hadn’t been moving. “I’m sorry.”

“Are you?”

She raised her head and pinned him with a piercing gaze. Her eyes were the color of clear skies, but they flashed with all the intensity of a rolling thunderstorm. “I didn’t mean to blame you like that. It’s just that the humiliation is unbearable.”

Her stare made him uncomfortable, as if he were discovering a deeper part of her that he didn’t think existed.

“We should get back so the police know you’re okay. They’ll want to take you to the hospital.”

Something fierce and sincere flared in her eyes. “Don’t let them take me anywhere. I’m ashamed enough as it is.”

“You should have them look at your knee.”

She placed a hand on his arm. “Please. Don’t let them. I just want to go home.”

His arm seemed warmer where she touched him. He let it fall to his side and gave it a good shake. He turned away from those eyes and gave his head a good shake. He’d swallowed too much water.

Okay then. He’d send the police away. If she wanted her leg to fall off in the comfort of her own home, then who was he to insist on anything different?

“Let’s get back, then,” he said. “Are you okay to walk? We’ll go slow.”

She nodded, took a step, and let out a little squeak as she lurched forward. Instinctively, he reached out to steady her. She took his hand and pursed her lips. “I think you’d better leave me here. I can’t walk.”

“You need a hospital.”

“No hospital. I’m too embarrassed for a hospital. Don’t let them take me to a hospital.” She squeezed his hand. “Promise me.”

He growled. How did she know that if she made him feel sorry for her, she could get him to agree to just about anything?

“I already said okay.”

Her stubbornness might save her from a hospital visit, but it would serve her right if they had to amputate.

She tried to take another step and caught her breath. He clenched his teeth. Dust. His teeth were bound to disintegrate to dust. “I’m going to have to carry you, you know.”

“You don’t know anything. I can manage.”

He shook his head, folded his arms, and pretended to study her closely. “Nope. You can’t manage.”

“I’m going to sit and scoot all the way on my bottom,” she said, with all the dignity she could muster.

He squeezed his lips together to keep from grinning at her stubborn independence. If she weren’t so irritating in every way, she’d be sort of cute. “Much as I’d like to see that, you’d never make it, and you’d get slivers in places you don’t want slivers.” He shouldn’t have said that. What would his mamm say?

Mandy’s face glowed a bright shade of pink. “You just pulled me out of the river. You’re as spent as I am.”

“Nope, I’m not.”

She took another step and nearly toppled over. He took hold of her wrist. She squinted as if trying to figure out an eighth-grade math problem and massaged a spot just above her eyebrow. “I’m the one who helps people. I don’t like to be helped.
Ach
. I suppose I’ll have to let you carry me.”

“It’s not as bad as all that,” he said.

“But I don’t like you.”

If she didn’t like him, then she should quit spying on him. He frowned. “I don’t like you either, but I’m not asking for your hand in marriage. We’ve got to get you back to the buggy, and this is the only way I can think to do it unless you want them to bring in a stretcher and wheel you straight to the hospital.”

“No hospital,” she said, clutching a long strand of her hair.

“Okay then.” In one swift movement, he scooped her into his arms, almost dropping her when her momentum sent her tumbling backward. She weighed less than a sack of flour. She caught her breath and threw her arms around his neck.

“I know you dislike me,” she said, “but try not to kill me.”

He merely grunted and frowned harder. Even for as low an opinion as she had of him, she should know he would make sure she came to no harm. He worked hard to be a credit to the mamm who raised him.

It wasn’t far, and even after his exertion in the river, Noah found it relatively easy to carry her. She didn’t weigh much, and he was used to hefting bales of hay.

She must have been exhausted. Her eyes fluttered, and even though she couldn’t stand the sight of him, she rested her head against his chest, her warm cheek against his wet shirt.

He clenched his teeth as a strange longing attacked him like a punch to the gut. Mandy Helmuth felt oddly comfortable in his arms, like a warm blanket on a frosty evening or a mug of Mamm’s hot wassail with cinnamon sprinkled on top.

He didn’t like the feeling. Not one little bit.

So he talked himself out of it.

He’d just saved her life, so of course he felt naturally protective of her, drawn to her even though she was as immature and irritating as Kristina Beachy. Fixing things gave him a great sense of accomplishment. That was what he was feeling, merely the satisfaction of knowing he’d helped someone out by keeping her from drowning. Besides, she was a pretty girl. He’d have to be blind not to notice that.

If only she were as pretty on the inside.

He rejoiced when, after a long ten minutes, he crossed over the bridge. The Coblentz’s corn grew tall to his left and the river flowed to his right. Once he’d cleared the row of cornstalks, Jethro, Alvin, Kristina, and the flashing police car came into view. They had their backs to Noah, looking downriver.

Mandy lifted her head. “You can put me down now.”

“You suddenly found the strength to walk?”

“Kristina will have a heart attack if she sees me in your arms.”

“We wouldn’t want to do anything to hurt Kristina’s feelings,” he said dryly.

He expected her to scowl at him. Instead she furrowed her brow and frowned.

He set her on her feet, and she limped unsteadily toward the police car, wincing with every movement. Maybe he should insist she see a doctor.

The minute that thought came into his head, he shoved it away. He’d promised no hospital. Besides, he knew how futile it was to try to persuade someone to do what she didn’t want to do. It wasn’t his job to worry himself sick about her.

Kristina glanced in their direction. “Mandy,” she squealed. “You’re alive!” With arms outspread, she charged at Mandy and nearly knocked her over. Noah reached out to steady Mandy but thought better of it. She didn’t want his help.

Kristina worked herself into hysteria in a matter of seconds. “I didn’t mean to push you in. I was just so excited and I—”

Mandy patted Kristina’s cheek. “It’s all right. I’m okay.”

Kristina abruptly released Mandy and threw her arms around Noah before he had a chance to defend himself. “Noah. You are my hero. I knew you could save her. You could lift a truck with those muscles of yours.”

Noah raised his hands as if in surrender. Kristina might be hanging around his neck like a snake but he refused to touch her. And she didn’t fool him. She was using Mandy’s mishap as an excuse to get close to him. It was just another one of her tricks.

“Krissy,” Mandy snapped. “Let go and leave Noah alone.”

Kristina’s suction-cup grip slackened, but she didn’t back away.

“Kristina Beachy, let go this minute.”

Kristina slid her arms from Noah’s neck. Looking at Mandy with wide eyes, she twitched her lips and giggled halfheartedly. Mandy glared at her as if she’d just broken all the rules of the Ordnung.

Kristina stuck out her bottom lip. “You said you weren’t mad at me for pushing you in the river.”

Mandy’s expression remained unyielding. “I’m not mad at you for the river,” she said, pointing an accusing finger at Kristina. “You know why I’m mad.”

Kristina batted her eyes innocently. “What? What are you mad about? I never did nothing wrong.”

Mandy growled, took Kristina by the elbow, and practically shoved her in the direction of the woods. “We’ll talk about it later. I’m taking you home.” With Kristina in tow, Mandy stalked into the woods with a pronounced limp, like an old woman with two broken legs. She didn’t even look at the policeman eyeing her curiously as she passed.

Kristina shuffled her feet as best she could while Mandy tugged on her arm and refused to let go.

“Don’t you even believe in forgiveness?” Noah heard Kristina whine as she and Mandy disappeared into the thicket. “I guess my best friend has forgotten about forgiveness. If you don’t forgive others, God won’t forgive you.”

Noah practically exploded with gratitude. It was about time someone put that girl in her place. He just hadn’t expected it to be her equally silly and childish best friend.

The front door squeaked when Noah opened it. He’d have to take care of that later. At least a squeaky hinge was an easy fix. Jethro’s picker was a different story altogether. Noah had ordered a new axle from Green Bay, but it wouldn’t be here for at least a week. In the meantime, he’d jerry-rigged a couple of metal pipes and some baling wire so the Coblentzes would at least be able to start getting the corn in.

His Polish hound dog Chester came padding down the hall and greeted Noah with a wet tongue. “Any trouble while I was away?” Noah paused to stroke his dog’s ears before hanging his hat on the hook near the door. It wouldn’t be there long. He’d promised Tyler Yoder he’d be by at noon to help install a new LP gas fridge.

“Dat,” he called.

No answer. Still asleep, no doubt. He’d had a rough night last night. Noah massaged his shoulder. Dat wasn’t the only one who’d had a rough night.

Not to mention Noah’s rough morning. He’d jumped into the river and swam until he thought his lungs would explode, pulled Mandy Helmuth out of the water, and hauled her in his arms for over a mile. That was a strain on even his strong frame.

Noah tromped into his room and shut the door. He usually avoided being at home during the day, but he needed a change of clothes. His trousers and boots were still damp from the river, and Tyler and Beth wouldn’t appreciate his soggy feet on their new kitchen floor. Maybe he should do a batch of laundry before he left. Tyler didn’t expect him for another hour.

He snatched the other pair of dirty work trousers from his basket and ventured into Dat’s room for more laundry. Dat lay in bed on his side, in the exact same position Noah had left him last night. It looked like he hadn’t moved a muscle. Noah picked up a pair of Dat’s trousers from the floor and a navy blue shirt from the foot of the bed.

Dat stirred and rolled onto his back. Groaning, he laid his arm across his eyes to guard against the dim light filtering through the forest-green curtains in his bedroom.

A sharp knife twisted in Noah’s gut. His dat was a mere scrap of the gute and strong man he once had been. Instead of letting Jesus take his pain, Dat had allowed his grief to bury him. When he could have opened his heart to the love of God and his family, he had instead turned to the bottom of a bottle for comfort.

Noah hated seeing Dat like this, beaten down, broken, a slave to his addictions, a man with no strength left to fight. The pity gave way to momentary resentment. Why wouldn’t Dat stop? Because of him, Noah had lost everything important in his life.

“How do you feel, Dat?” Noah asked.

Dat lifted his arm long enough to take a good look at Noah, then he lowered it as if he’d lost the strength to hold it up any longer. “Like maybe I put up a fight last night?” he whispered.

Noah sighed in resignation. “Jah.”

Dat’s voice cracked. Because his arm rested over his eyes, Noah couldn’t see the tears in Dat’s eyes, but he knew they were there. “I’m sorry, son.”

“Okay,” Noah said, with no desire to make Dat feel worse than he already did. Dat’s remorse overwhelmed him every morning but didn’t stop him from drowning his sorrows in another bottle almost every night. “Do you want me to make you something to eat?”

“What time is it?” Dat said, moaning as if it hurt to blink.

“Eleven.”

“Felty’s coming at one.”

Without fail, except when he was sick, Felty Helmuth came every Monday to eat lunch with Dat. By one o’clock, Dat was usually able to pull himself together and look almost normal. Dat looked forward to Felty’s visits all week. Felty’s concern hadn’t slacked off as the years had passed, and he was one of the few people Dat would even let in the house anymore. It baffled Noah that Felty and Mandy were even related. He supposed that every family tree had a bad apple or two.

“Maybe a half a sandwich to tide you over?” Noah said.

“Jah, okay.”

Noah gathered up the rest of his dat’s clothes while his dat eased out of bed and shuffled to the bathroom, cradling his head in his hands.

The house was too tiny for a washroom, so Noah had set up the washer in his already small bedroom. While he filled the wringer washer, he could hear his dat through the thin walls heaving the poison out of his stomach. Noah turned on the machine to drown out the sound. He’d rigged up a compressor to run the washer and the wringer, so washing clothes was as simple and fast as turning on an oven. Mostly.

He closed his eyes and let the loud and steady rhythm of the machine calm him. Nobody but the bishop knew how bad things had gotten with Dat. Lord willing, nobody else would ever find out. Even Felty seemed oblivious to the worst. As long as Dat didn’t show his face in the community, Noah could protect the secret.

Except for the rare gatherings he had attended this summer and the times when he was out trying to earn enough money for him and Dat to live on, Noah stayed at home and did his best to keep his Dat out of mischief. He’d rather keep his family’s shame all to himself.

Noah lifted his arm up and down a couple of times to work out the stiffness. Gute thing the bruise was covered by his sleeve. He wouldn’t be able to keep any secrets if the people at church saw a purple-and-blue mark the size of his hand.