“Promise?”
“I promise.”
He looked as if she’d just given him ten loaves of nut brown bread. “Denki. And will you promise not to say anything? I need to do all the talking.”
She rolled her eyes. That boy could not relinquish one iota of control. “Okay. No talking unless absolutely necessary.”
“Not even then,” he said, pinning her with a look that invited no argument.
“I’ll do my best.”
Luke looked as if he might start yelling again. Instead, he pressed his lips together and nodded. “Bitsy, will you stay inside so I don’t have two people to fret about?”
A dozen worry lines appeared on Aunt B’s forehead. “I’ve got your back.” She opened the door. Griff and his dad were standing right where they’d left them. Aunt B tapped her hand on the barrel of her gun. “No trouble, Kyle, or I might have to load this thing.”
“I don’t start trouble,” Kyle said. “But I finish it.”
“I’ll be standing right inside the door,” she said. With the heart tattoo on her neck and her dangly black earrings, she looked more intimidating than the average Amish fraa. Poppy frowned. Kyle’s tattoos could have eaten Aunt B’s tattoos for supper.
Luke marched out onto the porch, and true to her word, Poppy followed him and stationed herself directly behind him. She couldn’t see much but Griff’s head around Luke’s broad shoulders. Aunt B shut the door behind them. With her back to the house, Poppy couldn’t know for sure, but she suspected that Aunt B had her nose stuck right up against the window. Would she have to load her gun? Did she even have ammunition?
Poppy felt ridiculous standing behind Luke, but he would be very upset if she broke her promise. She should at least attempt to make him happy.
Griff looked pale, as if he wanted to be in Canada or Milwaukee or anywhere else in the whole world. Poppy couldn’t feel sorry for him. He’d brought the community nothing but trouble.
The muscles of Luke’s neck and back looked so taut, Poppy could have bounced a penny off them, but his stance was casual and nonthreatening, with his hands at his sides and his feet spread apart. “I’m here,” he said. “What do you want to say?”
Kyle’s scowl got even deeper, as if it would never find the bottom of his face. “What gives you the right to punch my son?”
Indignation boiled inside Poppy like honey on an overheated stove. Griff, the coward, obviously hadn’t told his father who had really hit him, but she wasn’t about to let Luke take the blame. She braced one hand on Luke’s shoulder and stood on her tiptoes so she had a clear view of Kyle. “It wasn’t—”
Luke’s warning glare could have shriveled her tongue. She had promised not to say anything—unless absolutely necessary. She thought it was time for absolutely necessary. He obviously didn’t.
Luke nudged her hand off his shoulder like a piece of lint. She took a step back and growled softly. Why wouldn’t Luke at least tell Kyle the real story?
Because Luke Bontrager was the bossiest boy she had ever met. Hadn’t he just told her that the world would be a better place if everybody just did what he wanted?
Bossy and arrogant. There was no reasoning with him.
“No one should hit anybody else,” Luke said.
Without warning, Griff’s father made a fist and popped Luke in the nose. Poppy shouted as Luke’s head snapped back, but he didn’t fall over. He was as solid and immovable as a tree trunk.
Poppy staggered as if she were the one who’d been hit. As soon as she got her bearings, she darted between Kyle and Luke and pushed up against Luke’s chest so he’d be forced to step back, farther away from Kyle. “Don’t touch him,” she yelled.
Stubborn, aggravating Luke would not be pushed. He took her good hand and tugged her behind him again. If she hadn’t been so ferhoodled by his touch, she would have protested. As it was, she felt powerless to do anything but let him lead her wherever he wanted, even if he did have blood trickling from his nose.
Griff’s face turned a sickly shade of green. Jah, he wanted to be in Canada.
Luke calmly pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his nose. Lots of blood. Too much blood. “If you want revenge, Kyle, you or Griff can punch me in the face as many times as you want, and I won’t fight back. But you have to let Poppy go in the house first.”
Poppy squeaked in protest. Luke squeezed her hand as a signal to keep quiet. She squeaked in protest again.
“Poppy,” he growled, “stay behind me and stay quiet.”
Ach. She hated Luke Bontrager.
Kyle flexed his hand as if hitting Luke’s face might have been hard on his fingers. “Are you satisfied, Griff?”
Griff nodded mutely.
Kyle turned back to Luke. “Now we’re even. But come near my son again, and you’ll get worse.”
Poppy was nearly beside herself. She wanted to shout at Kyle for hitting the wrong person and at Griff for scaring her sister and at both of them for being despicable people, but if Luke could keep his temper, then so could she.
Kyle jabbed a finger into Luke’s chest. Luke didn’t move, but Poppy flinched. “We haven’t had no problem with the Amish before. We don’t want no trouble again.”
“We’d like nothing better than to be left alone,” Luke said, sniffing back the blood dripping from his nose.
“Then we understand each other.”
Luke folded his arms across his chest. Still confined to standing behind him, Poppy could only guess that the blood dripped down his shirt. “I want to talk to Griff alone,” he said. “Would that be all right with you?”
Kyle’s eyes were tiny slits. “Why?”
“Man to man,” Luke said. “No fighting.”
Kyle frowned. “I suppose you deserve that. You took it like a man.”
Griff sneered, and Poppy could tell he tried to muster a little swagger. “I got nothing to say to him.”
Kyle grabbed a handful of Griff’s T-shirt and pulled Griff toward him. “You listen to what he has to say, like a man. You understand?”
Griff nodded, his eyes full of resentment.
Kyle motioned to the shiny black motorcycle parked in the lane. “I’m on my bike right over there.” He took the porch steps in one jump, got on his motorcycle, and started the engine. Although he was near, he wouldn’t be able to hear a thing.
Griff crossed his arms over his chest, giving Poppy a gute look at the tattoo on his forearm, which was a skull with a snake coming out of its mouth. She swallowed hard and thought of Aunt B’s heart tattoo. Poppy much preferred cute little hearts, but Griff Simons wasn’t so tough.
For sure and certain, he didn’t look tough. His arms were folded as if to protect himself from Luke, the Amish boy who hadn’t fought back, but who looked like he could break Griff’s arm with a flick of his wrist. Griff’s eyes were downcast, his shoulders stooped. He looked scared and weak and even a little contrite. Had that been Luke’s doing?
“What do you want?” he said, as if he hated the very thought of Amish people. He probably did.
“What would have happened if I’d told your dat you hit a girl?”
Griff pressed his lips together and lifted his chin. “Nothing.”
She could see the muscles of Luke’s jaw tighten. “Do you know why I didn’t?”
Griff stared at the barn as if Luke hadn’t just asked him a question.
“Because I didn’t want him to hit you.” Luke tilted his head to force Griff to meet his eyes. “He would have hit you, wouldn’t he?”
Griff exhaled a puff of air and stared at his shoes again.
“Griff,” Luke said. “I didn’t want him to hit you.”
Poppy could have growled. She could have stomped her feet and yelled at the top of her lungs. She could have thrown her arms around Luke’s neck and kissed him silly. She felt so turned over every which way, she had no idea which urge was the strongest.
Luke had known all along what Griff’s father would do, a
nd he not only wanted to protect Poppy, but he had wanted to protect Griff Simons, who in many ways was a victim himself. Luke could have explained it to her instead of asking for a promise that only caused her aggravation.
Part of her hated to let Griff get away with anything. If his dat had struck Griff, he would have deserved it. Part of her wanted to hug Luke and make him a cherry pie for being a better person than she could ever hope to be. He had already forgiven Griff Simons, and now he was watching out for him—at the expense of his own nose.
Ach. She didn’t hate Luke Bontrager. Not one little bit.
Luke turned and gave Poppy a cautious smile. His nose was red, but the blood wasn’t dripping anymore, although there were several spots on his shirt. “Poppy,” he said. How could that one word from his lips send her head whirling like a swarm of honeybees?
He wrapped his protective arm around her and pulled her forward. Poppy couldn’t have been more surprised that Luke would let her come out from behind him, but her shock was soon overshadowed by the warm sensation of Luke’s arm around her, as if she belonged tucked neatly next to his heart. It didn’t help her pulse that he smelled of freshly cut cedar. She could breathe in that scent all day.
He ran his finger along her jawline and nudged her cheek so Griff could see the bruise. “Are you proud of what you did to Poppy, Griff?”
“She hit me first,” Griff said, mumbling so that Poppy could barely understand him. Well, the enormously fat lip probably made it hard to talk.
Ach, she was such a wicked girl.
“Are you proud?” Luke said, his tone demanding an answer that Griff didn’t want to give.
Griff hung his head. “No.”
“Are you proud of scaring three Amish girls who have never done you any harm?”
“I was having a little fun, that’s all.”
Luke’s glare would have scared Billy Idol. “Are you proud, Griff?”
“No.”
How did he manage to make his voice soft and authoritative at the same time? “Next time you see my sisters or Poppy’s sisters walking down the road, will you remember how I could have told your dat what really happened but didn’t, and just let them be?”
Griff glanced toward his dat’s motorcycle. “I suppose.”
Poppy didn’t know if Griff was convinced, but at that moment, Luke could have persuaded her of anything. His goodness astounded her.
Maybe she should at least try to show some forgiveness, even if Griff didn’t deserve it. “Wait here,” she said before running into the house.
Aunt B stood on the window seat with her gun pointed at Griff’s head through the glass.
“Did you load it?” Poppy said.
“Nae. I could see that Luke had it under control. And it never hurts a boy to get some sense knocked into him.”
Poppy went to the cooling rack where four loaves of wheat bread sat. “May I?” she said, taking the wax paper from the drawer.
Aunt B swiped her hand through the air. “It’s a waste of a good loaf of bread, but go ahead. Griff might be the worst thing that ever happened to the neighborhood, but he is still a motherless child.”
Poppy tore off a piece of wax paper as best she could with one hand and wrapped it around the bread. She ran outside and handed it to Griff, who acted like he didn’t quite know what to do with it. He probably suspected she’d poisoned it.
“That bread is like gold,” Luke said. “Guard it with your life.”
“Oh. Okay,” Griff said.
She hadn’t expected a thank-you. She didn’t get one.
Griff clomped down the stairs, climbed on the back of his dat’s motorcycle, and they drove away.
Luke exhaled deeply and gave Poppy a smile that set her heart racing. “I thank the gute Lord that you are safe, and nobody got hurt.”
“What do you mean nobody got hurt?” She took the handkerchief from his fist and dabbed at the blood under his nose.
He hissed and pulled back. “Careful. It stings something wonderful.”
“Did he break it?”
“I don’t wonder that he did.”
“You should put some ice on it.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Only if you put ice on your hand.”
She batted her eyes. “I was planning on doing that all along.”
He growled. “Poppy Christner, you delight in aggravating me, ain’t not?”
“Jah,” she said. “Almost as much as you delight in aggravating me.”
“I do not.”
Dabbing at the blood on his shirt was futile, but she did it anyway. It kept her close to him and his wonderful-gute smell. “At first I thought you didn’t tell Griff’s dat what really happened just to spite me,” Poppy said. “And then I thought maybe you wanted to take the credit for giving Griff a fat lip.”
He laughed. “I’ll bet you surprised him with how hard your fist is.”
Poppy grinned. “He slapped me more out of shock than anything else.”
Luke reached out and gently stroked his hand along her cheek. His cool fingers felt heavenly against her warm bruise. “Oy, anyhow, Poppy,” he said in his low, musical voice. “I wish I could have taken this one for you.”
“Why didn’t you tell me your plan instead of making me promise not to speak?” she said.
His hand found a wisp of hair from beneath her scarf, and he twisted it between his fingers. “Because, no matter how much you dislike me, I knew you wouldn’t willingly agree to let Griff’s dat punch me. Either that or you thought Griff deserved to be hit.”
Poppy lowered her eyes. “Ach. I am wicked. I do think he deserved it.”
“You’re not wicked. It shows you have a tender heart for my sisters and Rose.”
“So do you, but you thought of Griff too. I didn’t.”
“There was really no time to argue about it. Another minute and Kyle would have broken down the door,” he said.
“Did you know he would hit you?”
“Nae, but I suspected if he didn’t turn his anger on me, he’d take it out on Griff. I live close enough to know what goes on at that house.”
Poppy had been wiping at the same spot of blood on his sleeve for a very long time. She smiled sheepishly and handed him back his handkerchief. “I shouldn’t have been so difficult, but I didn’t want you to boss me around.”
He smirked as if he knew he was going to annoy her. “I told you, the world would be a much better place if everybody just did things my way.”
“Ach,” Poppy said. “What an imagination you have.”
Someone knocked on the window, and they turned to see Rose and Dorothy grinning and waving at them.
“They look like they’re feeling better,” Luke said.
“Cum reu,” Poppy said. “I will get you some ice for that face and a slice of bread because you have done a very gute thing.”
He pursed his lips and shook his head. “Nae. I will get you some ice. Your cheek is purple and your hand is swelling like a dead fish.”
She glanced down and winced. Her right hand looked decidedly chubby. She’d be wearing a cast at the wedding and weeding the garden with one hand. But she could still make bread if Luke helped. Her heart did a double somersault twist at the thought of Luke Bontrager coming over every day to knead bread. It didn’t even matter that she only made bread once a week. Surely she could find something for him to do the other six days.
“Cum,” he said, cupping his hand over her elbow and leading her into the house as if she were a frail old woman. “It must be hurting something wonderful.”
“At least there is nothing that needs to be glued,” she said. “Remember all the time we spent gluing each other back together? I have such fond memories.”
He gazed at her as if he were looking into her heart. “Me too. What would I do without you?”
Her pulse pounded like a charging bull. “Well, you wouldn’t have that scar on your finger. You wouldn’t have had to pull me out of a car window, fish me from the d
itch, or buy me a drill. You’d be sitting at home in a rocking chair playing Scrabble with one of your bruders. You’d be enjoying a lot more peace.”
He shrugged and gave her a dazzling smile. “Nah. I’ve kind of gotten used to the excitement.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Poppy, Rose, and Lily each pulled two bags of tomatoes from the buggy. Poppy hung both bags on her gute arm. It was a gute thing they had handles. She hated it when she couldn’t do something to help.
One of their errands in town was delivering tomatoes to the Yutzys, who sold some of the Honeybee Schwesters’ produce at their fruit, vegetable, and donut stand. The Yutzy girls, Hannah and Mary, were gute-natured and friendly and unapologetically loud, and they never seemed to let anything ruffle their feathers. Poppy liked them very much.
The Yutzys’ vegetable stand stood on one of the busiest corners in town, where tourists liked to stop for Amish donuts and produce. Tables of cherries and beans, corn and peas lined the sidewalk for several feet. Even in the early morning, a few tourists and some Amish neighbors were looking at the produce.
Poppy’s stomach lurched. Dinah Eicher and her mamm stood near the flowers looking at a flat of petunias. Poppy pretended she hadn’t seen them and hoped Dinah would pretend too. There was no need for them to say anything to each other.
So what if Luke liked demure, pretty Dinah? That didn’t hurt Poppy’s feelings at all. Luke could like whomever he wanted. But that didn’t mean Poppy had to be friendly. She slid her broken hand behind her back. Dinah was sure to gloat over it.
Hannah and Mary stood inside the little enclosure that housed the vegetable stand’s cash register and the propane stove where they cooked donuts. Hannah looked up as she counted out change to a customer and squealed in delight. “Lily! Poppy and Rose! Ach, du lieva, it’s the Honeybee Schwesters!”
The customer, an Englisch tourist, pinched her lips together in annoyance, as if Hannah had just broken her eardrum.
Hannah giggled and patted the woman’s hand. “I’m sorry if I scared you. I’m just so happy to see my friends.”