“You’re the least helpless boy I know,” Poppy said.
His face spread into a grin. “I am?”
“You paint barns, you build furniture and chicken coops, you pick cherries as if you were born in a tree.”
He pretended to be disappointed. “You found out my secret.”
Poppy smiled. “I’m making honey custard with cherries if you want to stay for dinner,” she heard herself say. Why had she invited him to eat? She wanted to get rid of him, didn’t she?
The grin couldn’t have gotten any wider. “You would let me stay for dinner?”
“If you’re nice.”
He nodded earnestly. “I promise to be nice.”
“You still haven’t told me what that is you’re holding in your hand. Have you been collecting hair at the barbershop?”
He pulled his gaze away from her and set the thing on the table. “Dan told me Queenie’s tail got cut, which I think is especially cruel to a horse in the summertime. She can’t swish the flies off, and flies can be torture to a horse.” He smoothed the hair with his hand. “This is a temporary tail made of horse hair. People buy them when they’re going to show their horses at auction. We attach it onto Queenie’s stubby tail, and she can swish the flies away. By next summer, her tail should be back.”
Poppy fingered the ends of the hair. “I didn’t even think about the flies.”
“Only someone really spiteful would cut off a horse’s tail.”
Poppy lowered her eyes. She still had the nagging feeling that someone was out to spite her specifically. “Someone who hates me very much.”
He frowned. “It’s not your fault.”
“You don’t know that for sure.”
He seemed to get closer though he stood perfectly still. “I’m not going to lie, Poppy. I’m worried about you.”
The air around her felt soft and snuggly, like a warm blanket on a chilly afternoon. For probably the first time in her life, Poppy didn’t take Luke’s concern as an insult. It was kind of sweet, as if he really cared about her, as if Dinah Eicher weren’t on his mind day and night. “If you can’t help yourself, worry about Rose. Some nights, she’s too frightened to go to sleep.”
“She takes it hard like I do, but maybe for different reasons.”
Poppy nudged his elbow and gave him a reassuring smile. “It would have been much worse if you and Dan and Josiah hadn’t painted that barn door.”
His lips twitched in embarrassment. “Bright orange.”
“Your chicken coop made her very happy, and she feels better when you or Dan are here.”
He curled one side of his mouth and looked at her sideways. “What about you? Do you feel better when I’m here?”
“You did pick all those cherries. I suppose I don’t mind that Dan drags you along.”
She meant it as a tease, but he acted as if she’d just handed him a whole plate of Rose’s meat loaf with special sauce. “You don’t mind? I think I’m going to cry.”
She giggled. “I’ve never seen you cry.”
He grunted and gave her a quick nod. “And you never will.”
Billy Idol darted into the house before she shut the door. “Please don’t worry. The troublemaker hasn’t tried to hurt us.”
“Yet.”
“Don’t say that. You’re going to scare me.”
He smiled. “I’ve never seen you scared.”
“And you never will.”
He clapped his hands together. “Enough spooky talk. What can I do to help?”
“Nothing. I need to make bread.”
Luke’s eyes lit up, and he spread his arms in front of him. “I’ve got two hands. I can help.”
“It’s women’s work,” she warned. That would keep him out of the kitchen. Picking cherries was one thing, but making bread? Dinah Eicher would never ask him to make bread.
“I want to learn,” he said. “Are you afraid I’ll be better than you at loafing?”
“You’re not better than me at anything. And what, for goodness sake, is loafing?”
He chuckled. “You’ll never know unless you let me help. But I warn you. I’ve got muscles of steel.”
She wouldn’t give him encouragement by smiling. “More like a head full of dough.”
“All the better to make bread.”
Poppy gave in and let Luke grind the wheat. She could have done it herself, even with only one hand, but she didn’t want to waste all those muscles standing right there in her kitchen. Luke ground the wheat, measured the flour, soaked the yeast, and made himself extremely useful.
Once they mixed the dough, Poppy floured the counter and directed Luke to scrape the dough out of the bowl to be kneaded. She glanced at him. “I think I can do this with one hand if you’ve got somewhere better to be.”
He acted as if she’d just insulted him. “Somewhere better to be? There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”
Why did he sound so sincere? It was just bread, and she wasn’t Dinah Eicher.
She pressed the heel of her hand into the dough and showed him how to press and roll. “Since this is just women’s work, I’m sure you already know how to do it.”
He winced and shook his head. “I am going to be eating a lot of my words.” He dusted his hands with flour and pressed them into the dough. “You do this every week?”
She nodded.
“You probably could beat me in an arm-wrestling contest. This is really gute for my muscles. See?”
He flexed his arms as he pressed and rolled the dough, and Poppy had to look away to keep from grinning. Luke Bontrager was a peacock, pure and simple.
The sweat beaded on his forehead. “You should let me knead the bread every week. I feel my arms getting stronger.”
Once the dough was to Poppy’s liking, Luke rolled it into a ball and put it in a bowl. Poppy covered the bowl with a dishcloth and left it on the counter to rise.
They shared the sink to wash their hands, and Luke gave her first use of the towel. “I wish it was done already. Poppy Christner’s bread is famous.”
She shook her head. “This is Luke Bontrager bread. I’ll only take credit if it tastes good.”
“How long did you say it needs to rise?”
“About forty minutes in the bowl, then another forty in the pans.”
“Have you got a Bible?” he said.
She pressed her lips to one side of her face. “You want to do some reading?”
“I want to show you something.”
Poppy pointed to the table next to the sofa. Luke retrieved the Bible, laid it on the butcher-block island, and leaned his elbows against the counter. Poppy stood on the opposite side of the island wondering just what he wanted to show her.
He opened the book, raised an eyebrow, and pulled out a hundred-dollar bill from between Genesis and Exodus.
Poppy blushed. “Aunt B keeps her money in the books.”
“All her money?”
“She doesn’t trust banks.”
Luke nodded. “My dawdi kept his money in a jar that he buried in the backyard. Once, he forgot where he’d buried it and spent two years digging up the yard looking for it. When he found the money, Mammi planted a daffodil bulb in every one of those holes. Their backyard bloomed bright yellow every summer.”
“I suppose some good came out of it.”
“After that, he kept his money in Mammi’s cookie jar. She never made cookies again. It was a sad day for the grandchildren. Now you know why I like your cookies so much. I cried myself to sleep every night after Mammi stopped making cookies.”
Poppy grinned. “We find money every time we open a book.”
“My dat should do that. I’d read a lot more.” He leafed through the pages, finding three hundred more dollars before landing in Matthew and turning his eyes to her. “I don’t like admitting when I’m wrong.”
“That’s quite a surprise,” Poppy said drily.
“I’m sure it is.” He leaned his elbows on the island and gazed a
t Poppy as if she were the sun, the moon, and the stars. “I want you to know, Poppy, that I don’t think I’m better or more important than you. I never did. The way I’ve acted and the things I said made you believe that. I don’t think women’s work should be done just by women or that men are more valuable.”
She only had to look into those eyes to tell he believed it. Had he changed his mind, or had he always thought that way? She thought her heart might swell out of her chest. “Are you throwing out your entire personality then?”
He groaned. “Very funny. I have been stubborn and arrogant, haven’t I?”
“I happen to think that stubbornness is a very gute quality, as long as you’re humble about it.”
“I agree,” Luke said. “I’m still working on the humility.”
Poppy placed her hand on the open page. “When you pick cherries and knead bread as well as you do, it’s hard. I won’t get my hopes up.”
He stared at her until she felt a little awkward, as if he might go on staring until dinnertime.
“Did you have a scripture you wanted to share with me?”
He seemed to snap out of whatever daze he was in. “The truth is, I can’t get enough of your eyes.”
She moved back a little so he wouldn’t hear her heart beating against her chest or feel the heat from her face. It had surely turned bright red. Luke had noticed her eyes? They weren’t anything special—not interesting half blue, half green like Lily’s or clear sky blue like Rose’s—just green, like the weeds that grew in every pasture in Bienenstock.
He smiled and fingered the scar on his lip. “And I was hoping to find some money.” He turned pages until he found what he wanted on the same page as a twenty-dollar bill. He pointed to a verse. “Bitsy showed me this. Did you know we need to feed and clothe people to get into the kingdom of heaven? I used to think it was women’s work. Now it’s just the work of Gotte.”
She squinted as if to get a better look at him. “You have changed. Or are you Luke’s secret twin brother who doesn’t get out much?”
Luke chuckled. “Only if you think you might like my twin brother.”
She smirked. “Maybe. Is he arrogant and stubborn?”
“Jah.”
Poppy tapped her finger to her lips. “I’ll think about it.”
A shadow passed across his face, and he leaned over and cupped her cheek in his hand. “Ach, Poppy. Do you know how much I regret hurting you?”
She felt as wobbly and soft as a tower of Jell-O. “I don’t know.”
“Boys aren’t better than girls, and girls aren’t better than boys. Gotte loves us all.”
Poppy took a shuddering breath, as if she’d spent the last hour crying, and pulled herself away from Luke’s touch. “Tell that to my dawdi or Urius Beachy.”
“Urius Beachy? The goat farmer?”
Poppy nodded. Urius Beachy lived outside of Bonduel with his wife and two daughters on a modest farm where he raised a herd of goats. An unpleasant odor always wafted from his place, and Poppy sort of felt sorry for his nearest neighbors. She also felt sorry for his daughters. If they ever heard a gute or loving word from their dat, Poppy would be surprised.
“What about Urius Beachy?” Luke said.
Poppy shrugged. “After my parents died, my sisters and I lived with Mammi and Dawdi Kiem before Aunt B took us. I was only seven and Urius was ten, but he worked for my dawdi, doing odd jobs around the yard, mucking out the barn, tormenting me. I tagged after Urius every morning and tried to help him with his chores. Every day he told me that Gotte loved boys better than girls and that I was nothing. I don’t know why I kept coming back for more. I suppose I hated to be cooped up indoors. My dawdi scolded me for not acting like a girl and said I’d never get a husband if I insisted on being so stubborn.”
“Maybe he’s sorry for that now.”
“I wanted his approval. I didn’t realize I would never get it. One day I found some new wood and rebuilt the three toolshed stairs that had been squeaking and tilting for months. I used a handsaw and the hammer all by myself.”
Luke widened his eyes. “You were seven.”
“I know, but I wanted to impress my dawdi and prove to Urius that I was just as gute as any boy. I guess I hoped to win both Dawdi’s approval and Gotte’s love.” Her throat felt thick, as if she might choke.
Luke took hold of her hand as if to keep her from falling. “You always had Gotte’s love.”
She cleared her throat. The memory was fourteen years old, but today it felt fresh. She’d never forget the look on Dawdi’s face. “I was excited to show Dawdi what I had done. I took him by the hand and led him to the toolshed, even though he was none too happy about the interruption. Urius was sitting on my new steps when Dawdi and I got there. Urius lied to Dawdi and told him that he had repaired the stairs. When I insisted that I had done it, Dawdi called me a liar. ‘A girl could never do such a fine job,’ he said. Urius stuck to his story and lied right to Dawdi’s face. Dawdi dragged me up my new stairs to the toolshed and gave me a whipping, but I wouldn’t budge. I kept insisting I had repaired the stairs, and Dawdi kept hitting me.” She flinched at the memory of Dawdi striking her again and again with the stinging leather strap. She didn’t realize she’d been squeezing Luke’s hand until her fingers cramped up. Sheepishly, she pulled out of his grasp. “I never gave in. Dawdi still thinks I’m a liar, and Urius still knows the truth. After that, Dawdi didn’t allow me outside and made certain that Mammi taught me everything I needed to know to be a gute fraa. He said I was wicked for wanting to use a hammer instead of a needle.”
Luke frowned, his eyes lumps of cold, hard coal. “No one should hit a child. I hate to think he could have broken your spirit.”
“I won’t back down if I think I’m right. I told Dawdi I didn’t care if I ever got a husband.” She smiled weakly. “Actually, I yelled it at him, more than once.”
He hooked his index finger around hers. “I hate it that you got hurt, but I love that you don’t back down.”
Love that she didn’t back down? She didn’t know what to say when he teased her like that. “You didn’t used to like that about me.”
He winced. “What did I know? I was a dumkoff with no sense and no brains.”
She propped her chin in her hand and gave him a teasing smile. “Was? Like you mean a week ago?”
“I’ve come a long way in a short time.”
She felt her face get warm. Why did he have to look at her like that? “Jah, you have.”
He stared at her for too long. Embarrassed, she curled her lips and averted her eyes.
He cleared his throat. “To prove my sincerity, I’d like to help you weed the garden.”
“I won’t be much help. I’ve only got one hand.”
He winked at her. She stopped breathing. “Don’t worry. If you think I’m a fast cherry picker, you should see the way I weed.”
“Do you know the difference between a weed and a tomato plant?”
“I think so.”
She shook her head. “Not good enough. I’ll do it myself.”
“I really want to help you weed.”
“Why?”
He glanced at her and then back down at Aunt B’s Bible. “I like being with you. You’re not boring like all those other girls.”
Like Dinah Eicher?
“Because you like being yelled at?” she said.
“I like the way your eyes sparkle when you’re mad at me.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I have a lot to be mad at you about.”
“Jah, I deserve your irritation, but I shouldn’t enjoy it so much.”
Rose walked in the door and set her canvas bag on the table. Her expression was stormy, as if there were permanent cloud cover across her face.
“Rose,” Poppy said, feeling like she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t have been doing. Did being mushy around Luke count? “How was the animal shelter?”
Rose sat on the window seat and picked up
Farrah Fawcett, who had been lounging there since Luke had come in. She snuggled her cheek against Farrah Fawcett’s snowy white fur, closed her eyes, and frowned. “Such a pretty kitty. I love you, pretty kitty,” she said. Her voice cracked in about three places, and it sounded as if she were about to burst into tears.
Poppy furrowed her brow and glanced at Luke. He returned her gaze with a worried expression of his own. “Did everything go okay today at the animal shelter?” he said. “Did Dorothy and Joann have a gute time?”
Rose pressed her lips together and forced a smile. “They have a pretty black dog that Norma at the shelter says will probably be adopted soon. Joann and I cleaned out the cages while Dorothy played with the puppies.”
“Is everything okay?” Poppy said, knowing full well it wasn’t. Maybe Rose was still stewing about Queenie’s tail.
Rose deposited Farrah Fawcett back on the window seat, went to the sink, and washed her hands. With Rose’s back to both of them, Poppy couldn’t see her face. “I’ve been thinking, Poppy. I should spend more time at home. Lily is getting married, and our family needs me more than they do at the animal shelter. I don’t think I’ll go back.”
Poppy’s chest tightened. That didn’t sound like an explanation. It sounded like a carefully prepared speech. “But, Rose, you love the animal shelter.”
“I should be with my family.”
Even though she felt puzzled and a little irritated that Rose wouldn’t give her a straight answer, Poppy tried to speak with a mild tone of voice. Rose’s feeling were so easily hurt. She took hold of one of Rose’s shoulders and turned her around. “Look me in the eye and tell me why you’re not going back to the animal shelter.”
Rose met Poppy’s eye briefly before she sighed and dropped her gaze to the floor. “I told you. With Lily getting married, we need each other more than ever.”
Luke had the sense to keep his face expressionless and his tone light. “What about Dorothy and Joann?”
“They’re not going back either.”
“Why?” he said.
“They want to spend more time with the kittens.”
Poppy pulled her sister in for a one-armed hug and pressed a kiss to her forehead. She wanted to fix whatever made Rose unhappy, but she had to know what it was first. “Rose, you know me too well to think I’ll settle for that excuse.”