A Bee in Her Bonnet

“Nae.”

  “Too bad. I would have liked to see that.”

  Poppy liked Luke more and more all the time. “I resisted the sore temptation many times.”

  His smile really was very nice when he showed it.

  “Paul is spiteful,” Poppy said. “But he’s not the one who destroyed our coop. The trouble started long before Lily and Dan got together.”

  They heard a faint call from the house. Luke took the opportunity to brush the unsuspecting Billy Idol from his lap before standing and rewrapping the towel around his finger. “I’m supposed to turn the crank.”

  “Thank goodness you still have one good hand.”

  He laughed and picked up his large toolbox as if it weighed as much as a pillow. “If I didn’t have hands, she’d make me turn the crank with my foot.” They walked around the barn where his buggy waited with both doors wide open. He slid his toolbox inside with a slight grimace on his face.

  “Is your finger hurting?” Poppy asked. “Or are you thinking about your embarrassing loss?”

  He growled even as his lips held the hint of a smile. “Ach, you’re so smug, Poppy Christner. But it’s neither. My buggy smells bad, and I’m thinking of driving it into the lake and buying a new one.”

  Poppy stuck her head into the buggy and crinkled her nose. “Smells like someone got sick in here. You’ll never convince a girl to ride with you with that smell.”

  “I’m hoping it will wear off.”

  “It will,” Poppy said, stepping back and breathing in the fresh evening air. “But three or four years is a long time to wait.”

  Luke groaned. “Three or four years? I’m definitely driving it into the lake.”

  The desperate look on his face made her smile. “It wonders me why your buggy smells like throw up.”

  “A car ran me off the road the other night, and my passenger got a little shaken.”

  “Your passenger?”

  He fingered his eyebrow. “Dinah Eicher, but don’t tell anybody. She was wonderful embarrassed.”

  Poppy felt a taste of something bitter in her throat. “Oh. Dinah.” Pretty, sweet, petite Dinah Eicher. Of course a little buggy mishap would scare her to death. Dinah was demure and obedient. The kind of girl Luke was eager to marry. The kind of girl eager to marry Luke.

  Poppy swallowed hard. Well, Dinah could have him. Who wanted the aggravation of being shackled to Luke Bontrager?

  “What have you done to try to get rid of the odor?”

  “Dan helped me wash the inside with soap and water.”

  “We have a deodorizer that works wonders. Aunt B practically bathes Billy Idol in it.”

  He widened his eyes. “Do you think it will work? I don’t want to have to drive it through a car wash.”

  Poppy was already halfway to the house. “I’ll run in and get it. It won’t hurt to try.”

  “Could you hurry? Bitsy will get testy if I don’t come in soon to turn the crank.”

  Poppy bounded up the porch steps and into the house. Bitsy was pouring salt into the ice-cream maker while Rose stirred the ice-cream mixture and Dan and Lily poured the ice into a bowl.

  Bitsy looked up and salt spilled all over the counter. “Where’s Luke?”

  “He’s outside,” Poppy said, going straight to the cleaning cupboard to search for their deodorizer.

  “Did he decide to go home after all?” Bitsy said, picking pieces of rock salt off the counter. “My prayers have been answered.”

  “I’m helping him with a bad smell in his buggy.”

  Lily smiled. “It’s nice to see you and Luke cooperating.”

  Poppy narrowed her eyes. “Luke and I don’t cooperate. We tolerate.”

  “He better not be trying to get out of turning the crank,” Aunt B said.

  “B, do you know where the deodorizer is?”

  Aunt B inclined her head toward the front door. “It’s on the windowsill, handy so I can spray mice odor off the welcome mat.”

  Poppy grabbed the spray bottle and took it outside where Luke waited patiently by the buggy. He had unwrapped the towel and was looking at his finger. When Poppy shut the door behind her, he quickly wrapped his finger up again. It didn’t look good. There was lots of blood on that towel.

  She swung the bottle in her hand. When she got close, she held it up for Luke to see. “I’m ready to spray. Show me right where it happened.”

  He pointed to the floor, the seat, the dashboard. Dinah must have really exploded. Poppy sprayed generous amounts of deodorizer everywhere, including the inside wall of the buggy. She wanted to be thorough.

  Luke sniffed the air. “Now it smells like lavender and toilet cleaner.”

  “Don’t worry. The bad smell will be dead by morning.”

  He fingered the towel around his hand. “That was wonderful nice of you, Poppy. I know how tempting it must be to imagine me driving girls home in a stinky buggy every night.”

  Poppy looked skyward as if thinking hard about that. “Very tempting. But I did it for those poor girls. There’s only so much they should be asked to endure. I mean, they have to endure plenty already just having to ride with you.”

  “I’ll make sure all those girls send you a thank-you card.” His fingers found the edge of the towel again.

  “How is your cut?”

  “It would have been worth it if I’d won.”

  Poppy put her deodorizer on the seat of the buggy and held out her hand. “Let me see if it’s still bleeding.”

  He put it behind his back. “It’s not.”

  “Let me see.”

  “I don’t want you to faint.”

  She cocked an eyebrow and scowled at him. “Really? You think I’m going to faint?”

  He merely grunted and wrapped his good hand around his towel. “It’s deep. I’ll need a whole tube of super glue.”

  She resisted the urge to snatch the towel away from him. She might make it worse. “Can I have a look at it?”

  “You didn’t want me to look at your knee.”

  “That’s because I knew you’d make me go in the house.”

  He grunted again. “I can’t make you do anything, Poppy Christner.”

  She held out her hand. “I can’t make you do anything either, Luke Bontrager.”

  She stared him down until he sighed, rolled his eyes, and unwrapped the towel from his finger. She took his hand in hers and examined his cut. It started bleeding. “Jah,” she said. “It’s nasty.”

  He looked at her sideways. “You’re not going to faint.”

  She stifled her exasperation. “I don’t even feel light-headed.”

  He nodded. “I’m impressed.” She could tell by the light in his eyes that he was telling the truth. It would be better when he went home and never looked at her like that again.

  She became very intent on studying his finger. He’d really sliced himself bad. “Why didn’t you say something earlier? I would have helped you glue it before dinner.”

  He huffed out a breath. “I wasn’t happy I lost. Dan and Bitsy would never let me hear the end of it. I’m a sore loser.”

  “You like to win,” Poppy said, “but a sore loser would have thrown his watermelon against the wall.”

  “You’ve been spending too much time around Paul Glick,” Luke said.

  “What if I go back in and sneak out with the super glue? Dan’s making googly eyes at Lily. He’ll never even notice.”

  Luke glanced around him as if Dan and Aunt B might be lurking in the shadows. “Okay, but only because my whole hand aches something wonderful.”

  “That’s what you get for trying to hold on to your pride.”

  He smirked. “Denki for the sympathy. You’re gloating because you won.”

  “Jah. I love to win. I would have thrown the watermelon against the wall if I’d lost.”

  He chuckled. “Bitsy would have made me clean it up.”

  “With one good hand and both feet.” Smiling, she headed back to the house for the super g
lue.

  “Poppy?”

  She turned back. “What?”

  The appreciative glint in his eyes almost knocked her over. “You wouldn’t have thrown up in my buggy.”

  Nae. She wouldn’t have.

  But that look he gave her made her feel like fainting.

  Chapter Nine

  Luke climbed next to Dinah in his dat’s open-air buggy. His enclosed buggy smelled better since Poppy had soaked it with deodorizer, but he didn’t want to give Dinah bad memories by making her ride in it.

  The courting buggy would be less stuffy than the big buggy anyway on such a warm evening. Dinah would appreciate the wind in her face.

  Besides, he wasn’t taking any chances. If Dinah threw up again, she would be able to lean over the side and aim for the ground. And if she happened to hit the buggy instead, he wouldn’t have to spend an hour washing it out. He could spray anything off the courting buggy with a hose.

  Luke frowned. He had taken Dinah Eicher home a dozen times in his buggy, and she’d only thrown up once. He didn’t expect any trouble tonight.

  But it didn’t hurt to be prepared.

  He flicked the reins to get Cody moving. Dinah looked very pretty in an emerald-green dress and her white kapp. The color accented her blue eyes, like trees against the sky. What would a dress that color look like on Poppy Christner? With her bright green eyes, she’d look like a forest in the sunlight.

  Luke sat up straighter and shook his head a couple of times. He was out with Dinah—pretty, mild, agreeable Dinah. He shouldn’t even be able to remember Poppy’s name when Dinah sat next to him, smiling like she always did, as if he were the sun and the moon.

  Jah. Poppy should be the furthest girl from his mind.

  He just couldn’t seem to shake the green eyes.

  “I like your dress,” he said, because green was his favorite color. Or was it? He couldn’t remember if it had always been that way or if the preference was a sudden thing.

  Her smile was all honey and peaches. “My mamm made it. She’s been making shirts and dresses for my brother and sisters for back-to-school next month.”

  They pulled up to Dinah’s house, and Luke set the brake. “Do you want to come in?” she said, twirling her kapp string around her finger. “I made coffee cake.”

  Luke tried not to smile too wide. Of course he wanted to come in. A girl was interested when she invited you to come and sit. Then again, he hadn’t expected anything less. Girls liked him. Dinah liked him. He knew what a catch he was—a boy with a strong back and a gute job and a handsome face. She’d probably agree to marry him right now if he asked.

  Not that he would ask. He hadn’t settled on Dinah Eicher just yet. Mary Shrock and Treva King were still in the running.

  Dinah took him through the back door to the kitchen, where a plate of coffee cake and two glasses of milk waited on the table. He’d told Dinah last week that coffee cake was one of his favorite desserts, next to apple pie of course.

  He smiled to himself. She had remembered. He liked that in a girl.

  The kitchen sink was full to the brim with gray water. Dinah saw where he looked and nibbled on her finger. “I clogged the sink, and Dat won’t be home for another half hour to fix it. Sorry it looks so bad. I almost draped a towel over it. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Do you want me to see if I can unstop it?”

  She laced her fingers together and looked at him as if he were Moses on Mount Sinai. “Could you? Dat always fixes stuff like this. I’m so grateful to have a man who knows what he’s doing.”

  “Do you have a plunger?”

  Dinah looked positively baffled. “You mean like to do the toilet?”

  Luke opened the cupboard below the kitchen sink to find a small kitchen plunger standing behind the dish soap. He pulled it out and held it up for Dinah to see. “This should do the trick.”

  He submerged the plunger in the dirty water, found the drain, and pumped the plunger up and down several times. In a matter of seconds, the water drained out of the sink in a rushing whirlpool.

  Dinah’s eyes grew wide. “Ach, du lieva, that was amazing. How did you do that?”

  Luke felt a twinge of annoyance that Dinah was so easily impressed—and a bigger twinge of annoyance that Dinah didn’t even know how to use a plunger. A plunger wasn’t like a table saw or a hammer. It wasn’t very likely that she’d injure herself with a plunger. Girls shouldn’t be completely helpless around the house. Not much would get done if the husband had to come in from the fields several times a day to fix a drain or put propane in the lanterns.

  Ach.

  Maybe even sometimes they’d need to know how to use a power drill.

  Maybe he should have given Poppy the benefit of the doubt. And instructions on how to use a drill.

  Maybe it annoyed him that Poppy had been right.

  Once he put the plunger back in its place, they sat at the table, and Dinah dished him a hearty piece of coffee cake with a delectable layer of cinnamon and brown sugar on top.

  Poppy Christner smelled like honey and cinnamon. One good thing about her insistence that she help with the chicken coop was that while they worked together, Luke had often gotten close enough to catch a whiff of her.

  Dinah eagerly watched him as he took a bite. The cake was practically swimming in cinnamon and dry as dirt. After putting down his fork, he took a healthy swig of milk and let the cake slide down his throat in one big lump. This was nothing like Poppy’s nut brown bread, hot from the oven and slathered with butter. What he wouldn’t do for a piece right now.

  Poppy might be feisty, but she knew how to use a hammer and how to cook. Luke would brave a hundred of her scowls for a bite of that bread. He’d put up with three lectures for a whole loaf.

  He cleared his throat and picked up a fork for another bite. Why was he thinking about Poppy Christner again? Green eyes and cinnamon should not be distracting him. It didn’t matter that Dinah didn’t know how to cook. Dinah had plenty of other good qualities that Luke wanted in a wife. She could learn to cook. And use a plunger.

  Maybe Poppy could give her a few recipes.

  “It’s wonderful-gute,” he said, stuffing it into his mouth to prove how much he enjoyed it. But then he had to swallow it, so he took another gulp of milk. He’d better eat at least one more piece to make her feel good. Was there more milk?

  Dinah blushed. “I wanted to surprise you. I know how you like cinnamon.”

  She took a dainty bite, chewed slowly, and washed it down with a tiny sip of milk. At that rate, she’d have a lot of milk left over. Maybe she wouldn’t mind if he drank hers.

  “Do you have more milk?” he said. It would be better to ask than to get cake stuck in his throat and die on Dinah’s kitchen floor.

  Dinah went to the fridge and brought back a whole gallon. It looked heavy, so he tried to take it from her. “Nae,” she said. “I’ll do it. Your hand is hurt.”

  “Denki,” he said. Poppy would have made him pour it himself.

  After pouring, she set the milk on the table and sat down to finish her dry coffee cake. “What did you do to your finger?”

  Luke studied his bandage. He’d nearly forgotten it was there. “I was cutting a watermelon and cut myself. Poppy Christner super-glued it back together for me.”

  Dinah didn’t seem quite satisfied with that answer. She nibbled on her index finger and didn’t take her eyes from Luke’s face. “Poppy Christner glued it for you?”

  “I was at her house to build the chicken coop.”

  Dinah frowned as if she didn’t understand. “And then Poppy Christner made you cut watermelon?”

  “They invited me to dinner after I finished the chicken coop.”

  Dinah spoke slowly, seeming to measure every word that came out of her mouth. “How nice of Poppy to glue your cut back together.”

  Luke wasn’t sure why, but he sensed that he should measure his words carefully too. “It was deep.”

  “I wo
uld never make you cut watermelon. Men shouldn’t do the kitchen chores.”

  “I wasn’t being very careful.”

  Dinah nibbled on her fingernail and frowned with her eyes and her voice. “You should have come here. I could have taken care of you.”

  “Poppy doesn’t mind the sight of blood.”

  Dinah stiffened in her chair and pressed her lips into a rigid line. “You don’t think I can stand the sight of blood?”

  “I didn’t say that. Poppy was there and you weren’t. It seemed easier to . . .”

  Without warning, Dinah burst into thick, plump tears with a sob to go along with them. She covered her face with her hands and cried as if her heart would break. “You didn’t want to let me help you,” she wailed. “You think I’m a baby.”

  Well, I do now.

  Luke froze. Dinah was crying over a cut finger and some super glue? Were girls really that sensitive?

  Not all girls. Poppy might be a little rough around the edges, but she wouldn’t cry like this over anything.

  Or faint. Poppy was too sensible to faint.

  He eyed Dinah in disbelief. He’d only eaten at the Christners’ because they’d invited him. It hadn’t meant anything. It seemed unbelievable, but could it be possible that Dinah was jealous? How could someone so sweet and delicate be jealous of Poppy Christner?

  Instantly, he knew the answer to his own question. Poppy had shocking green eyes and skin as smooth as fresh cream. She could hammer nails like a carpenter and cook like an Amish mammi. And she wasn’t afraid to get her hands dirty or stick her nose into a buggy that smelled like vomit.

  Of course Dinah was jealous.

  Dinah’s pitch rose the longer Luke sat there like a bump on a log. He should probably do something to demonstrate the depths of his compassion, but what he really wanted to do was throw his hands in the air and shout for Dinah to stop.

  Nope. He wouldn’t do that. He thought about his sisters. They got upset sometimes. He usually told them to buck up and quit whining. How did he comfort a girl in the depths of despair? Something told him he’d better try or Dinah might start attracting neighborhood dogs with her high-pitched wailing. He reached out his good hand and patted Dinah awkwardly on the head. “Don’t cry, Dinah. I’m sorry I . . .” What did he need to be sorry about? “I should have asked you to glue my finger together. Can you ever forgive me?”