“It didn’t,” Poppy said, as if Luke hadn’t already noticed.
He glanced at Poppy’s hand. It gave him a perfect excuse to refuse her help. “You’re injured, so you can’t help anyway.”
“The doctor took X-rays. It’s not broken.”
He couldn’t keep the smugness from his voice. “You took my advice and went in.”
She matched his expression with plenty of scorn of her own. “I went in to prove you wrong. You’re not so smart, Luke Bontrager.”
He shrugged. “I’m not usually wrong. Maybe the doctor missed something on the X-ray.” He didn’t really mean what he said. He was wrong and stupid and thoughtless on a daily basis, and he was glad that her hand wasn’t broken, but a show of arrogance always made Poppy furious. He shouldn’t take such perverse pleasure in getting a rise out of her, but she looked fierce and oh, so pretty when she got angry.
The storm flashed in her green eyes. She could have taken on a whole den of badgers. Luke stifled a grin. Nope. He shouldn’t enjoy seeing Poppy so irritated.
She unwrapped the bandage from her hand and made a fist. Luke took one step back.
Lily grabbed Poppy’s elbow. “Don’t hit him.”
Dan grinned. “Hit him, Poppy. He could use a pop in the mouth.”
Lily’s mouth fell open. “Dan Kanagy!”
Poppy rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t going to hit him. I just want to show him.”
Luke frowned until it felt like his eyebrows met in the middle. A sickly bluish-black bruise ran across the back of Poppy’s hand. He had to take a deep breath to keep from growling.
No one should hurt a girl like that.
“It looks sore,” he said, keeping his expression blank so she wouldn’t know how much it upset him. “You should be crying like a baby.”
“I can hold a hammer just fine.”
The only thing to do was to be perfectly honest with her, but honesty would make her pretty angry. “This is a man’s job, Poppy. I won’t let you help me.”
Her green eyes were flashing before. Now they burst into flame. “That is the stupidest, stubbornest thing I’ve ever heard.”
She might have started hissing at him, but Lily grabbed her wrist and tugged her toward the house. “Cum, Poppy,” Lily said. “We’ve got bread to make, and I know we’d all like to see Luke reach his twenty-third birthday, even if he deserves a dozen scoldings.”
Rose slipped her hand around Poppy’s waist and managed a weak smile. “Let’s go see if Billy Idol left something on our porch.”
With her glare firmly focused on Luke, Poppy let her sisters lead her away without protest. Maybe she realized she would have said something to regret. Maybe she wanted time to plot revenge.
As long as she stayed out of his way, he didn’t care how mad she was.
The three sisters disappeared around the corner of the barn, and Dan gave a low whistle. “You sure know how to impress the girls, Luke. It’s a wonder they don’t fall at your feet the minute you walk into a room.”
Josiah seemed genuinely concerned. “You told her she’s going to be an old maid?”
“I was annoyed. It just popped out.”
“You’re never going to persuade her to marry you if you talk to her that way,” Dan said.
Luke didn’t even pretend to be amused. “Very funny.”
Dan propped a hand on Luke’s shoulder. “You’re going to be sick in love with her before the year’s out.”
Luke thought his jaw might scrape the ground. “Even you can’t be that thick, Dan. Poppy hates me, and I can’t stand her.”
The laughter behind Dan’s eyes made Luke a little irritated. “You’ve always liked a challenge.”
“What I like is a nice, sweet girl like Dinah Eicher or Mary Schrock.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Dan said, still with that annoying grin on his face, as if he were smarter than Luke and Josiah put together.
Josiah chuckled. “It’s more likely Poppy and Luke will kill each other than fall in love.”
Luke shook his head in mock disgust. “And it’s more likely you’ll turn fifty before you dare have a conversation with Rose Christner.”
Josiah was unimpressed with Luke’s teasing. “I told her I would come to help with the coop, and she said denki. Did you hear her say denki? That’s a conversation if I’ve ever heard one.”
Luke’s laughter came out as a single grunt. “Only if you were a clerk at the market. Hello, Rose,” Luke said, making his voice extra high. “Could I interest you in a nice heavy bag of flour? Then you could carry it out to her buggy to show her your muscles.”
Josiah looked as if he were actually considering the possibility. “Do you think that would help?”
Dan draped his arm around Josiah’s shoulders. “Don’t let Luke talk you out of your plan. I like the plan. Rose is a wonderful-gute girl.” He glanced at Luke. “So is Poppy.”
“Just as long as she’s wonderful-gute from a distance,” Luke said.
Joe frowned. “You’re not going to let her help with the chicken coop?”
Luke shook his head. “She’ll hurt herself.”
Dan seemed to be barely containing his laughter. “Maybe you should wait to start on the coop until I’m done with the milking on Monday. I wouldn’t want Poppy to intimidate you.”
Luke smirked at Dan’s lack of faith. “I can handle Poppy Christner.”
“I hope so,” Dan said. “I wouldn’t want to see her get the better of you.”
Chapter Four
Poppy stood outside Luke’s workshop and listened to the high-pitched sound of his saw as it met a piece of wood. For as loud as it was outside, the noise must have been deafening inside the workshop. Poppy waited until she heard him finish cutting a piece of wood, and then she knocked on his door, her heart pounding rebelliously at the thought of having to face Luke Bontrager and thank him for saving her hand, even though it probably hadn’t needed saving.
Ach. It had to be done, but after the day she’d already had, she wasn’t looking forward to it.
Every Saturday afternoon, Poppy and her sisters paid a visit to Mammi and Dawdi Kiem, and every Saturday evening, Poppy came home in a sour mood. Dawdi Sol admonished Poppy constantly about her “stubborn heart.” He nearly fell over when he caught a glimpse of Poppy’s hand today.
Don’t you want to find a husband, Priscilla? Don’t you want to be a godly Amish fraa?
It didn’t take too much imagination to figure out why Aunt B had decided to leave home when she was a teenager.
Poppy had come home from Mammi and Dawdi’s house and made Luke his pie, and she had decided to deliver it as soon as it came out of the oven. Her day was ruined anyway. It couldn’t get much worse.
On the other hand, she was paying Luke Bontrager a visit. There was a real possibility of a lot worse.
No indication on the other side that he had heard her knock. The saw hummed and screeched as it chewed through another piece of wood. Poppy knocked again, louder this time, but there was too much noise on the other side of the door. She lifted the latch, and the door, twice as wide as a normal door, swung open. Luke stood with his back to her and guided a piece of wood with his long, deft fingers as if he had been born with a sturdy piece of oak in his hand.
She waited until he’d cut the wood and taken a step back from the saw. “Luke,” she said, loudly enough to be heard over the machinery.
He snapped his head around as if she had startled him. No doubt she was the last person he expected to see in his shop. He pulled some bright orange earplugs from his ears and flipped a switch on his saw. It sputtered before coming to rest and leaving the workshop in blissful silence. A layer of fine sawdust covered his face and clothes, and it looked as if he was in desperate need of a washing machine. A carpenter’s laundry was no doubt plentiful. He tilted his head to one side, folded his arms, and eyed her suspiciously.
With him looking at her like that, she suddenly had trouble finding her voice.
“I went to your house first, and they told me you were out here.”
“I have some table legs to finish.” He sounded only mildly hostile. At least he wasn’t growling.
Oy, anyhow, she hated to be beholden to Luke Bontrager. “I . . . I wanted to tell you thank you for stopping that car from driving away with my hand.”
He didn’t take his eyes off her as he shrugged and shook his head. “Lots of boys would have done the same.”
She took the dish towel off the pie. Steam rose from the crust, and the smell of cinnamon and apples permeated Luke’s wood shop. “I made you a pie to say thank you.”
Luke softened like ice cream on the counter as his dark eyes lit up with a look of pure joy. He took three long strides toward her and very nearly buried his face in the pie. “It’s still warm,” he whispered.
“I just took it out of the oven.”
“Ach, du lieva,” he said. “It smells like cinnamon.” He held out his hands as if to take it from her.
“It’s hot,” she said.
He cleared a space off his worktable, and Poppy set it down, slipping her oven mitt off her hand and underneath the pie in one motion. Luke looked like he was very nearly dying of starvation. “Can I eat it?”
“Now?”
“Jah.”
His eagerness coaxed a smile from her. “Do you keep a plate and silverware in your workshop?”
Beaming like a flashlight, he reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked like a pocketknife. “I don’t need one,” he said. He slid a shiny spoon out of the handle where Poppy would have expected a blade to be. With not even the least hesitation, he thrust the spoon into the middle of the pie and scooped out a steaming, hot spoonful of apple filling. He blew on it twice and stuffed it into his mouth.
Poppy pursed her lips to keep her chin from scraping the ground. Had he not eaten dinner?
He sighed as if she had baked all the bliss in the world into one pie. “This is the most wunderbarr thing I have ever tasted.” He shoveled another bite into his mouth and then another. Was he planning on eating the whole thing here and now?
Apparently so.
A ribbon of warmth threaded its way down Poppy’s spine, and she felt a blush travel up her neck. She wasn’t quite sure why she was so pleased that Luke liked her pie. He was just Luke, and it was just a pie. She had to get out of here before she turned bright red. Luke would mock her mercilessly.
She probably could have slipped out without Luke’s even noticing. He was completely engrossed in her pie. “Well,” she said, “I’m glad you’re enjoying it. I’ll be going now.”
Luke stopped inhaling Poppy’s gift long enough to acknowledge he’d heard her. “Denki, Poppy.” He pulled a tissue from his pocket and swiped it across his face. “Why do you want to do boy stuff when all you’d have to do is feed your husband a pie every day, and he’d do anything in the world for you?”
Her chest tightened at his veiled criticism. “I’m going to be an old maedle like Aunt Bitsy, remember?”
He shook his head. “Not when you make pies better than any boy ever could.”
She twitched her lips upward. “You’re a better eater than I am.”
“Wouldn’t you rather bake pies all day than build a chicken coop?”
“I would rather do both.”
He took another bite and savored it slowly. “If this pie was meant to butter me up, it worked.”
Poppy’s heart fluttered. “It did?”
“I give you permission to watch me build the chicken coop.”
She stifled a growl and made her voice and her smile sickly sweet. “Why would I want to watch you build it when I despise you?”
He paused with his spoon halfway to his mouth. He was probably wondering if she’d spit in his pie. “Girls like watching me build things.”
“I’m going to help build instead of watch.”
He took the drastic measure of putting down his spoon. “You’re not going to help, Poppy.”
She clamped her mouth shut before she said something else she would regret. What was the use of digging in her heels tonight? She was supposed to be expressing her undying gratitude, not arguing with Luke for the sake of arguing. Monday would come soon enough. She relaxed her expression and tried to look calm and at peace with herself. “I hope you enjoy the rest of your pie, Luke,” she said. “And I will see you tomorrow at gmay.”
He narrowed his eyes. “And what about Monday?”
“Monday will be a gute day to build a chicken coop.”
“Don’t get your hopes up,” he said, nearly growling as he picked up his spoon.
He was mad, all right. But not mad enough to give her back the pie. By the time she stormed out of his workshop, it was more than halfway gone.
Chapter Five
Poppy ignored the throbbing in her hand as she pushed the full wheelbarrow to the woodpile. Wouldn’t Luke be surprised that a girl could clear all the old wood away before he even got there?
Nae. He’d be angry that Poppy did his job just as well as he could, and he’d be mad that she hadn’t obeyed his every command. Girls who didn’t swoon at his presence made him very irritated.
She dumped the last of the splintered wood onto the woodpile and with one hand pushed the wheelbarrow back behind the barn. She could maneuver it easily enough, but her right hand ached so badly, she would have thought it was broken if she hadn’t seen the X-rays.
She looked up and caught her breath.
Luke stood right in the spot where the coop used to be, with his hands propped on his hips and a scowl on his face. He didn’t act surprised to see her, but it was as plain as an old man’s wrinkles that he was angry. His coffee-brown eyes smoldered with heat, and someone might as well have plowed a deep furrow right between his eyebrows.
He had wide shoulders and muscular arms, a carpenter’s arms, as if he were accustomed to ripping trees from the ground by their roots. Girls like Dinah Eicher or Mary Schrock or Treva King might have found his gaze terrifying. Poppy only found it aggravating. Lots of girls thought Luke Bontrager was handsome, even as formidable as he was. He did have a certain appeal. Along with his gute face and dark walnut hair, his eyes shone with intensity and passion, and the lines of his mouth were set and determined.
But Poppy didn’t care how good-looking he was. What kind of girl could be attracted to a boy who looked like he wanted to growl at her instead of have a normal conversation?
Speaking of growling . . . “Poppy, I told you I don’t want your help.”
She returned his glare with one of her own. “Well, you’re getting it. It’s our chicken coop.”
In three long strides he was at her side, nudging her away and commandeering the wheelbarrow. “You shouldn’t be pushing this. Your hand’s gotta hurt something wonderful.” He propped the wheelbarrow on its edge against the side of the barn. “It wonders me why you would want to be out here when you despise me.”
Poppy clamped her lips together before a smile escaped. She was mad at him. He shouldn’t be able to make her laugh. “You’ve described my feelings perfectly.”
“Then why? Especially with a bad hand.”
“Because I want to learn how to build a chicken coop.”
He leaned closer and studied her face. For some stupid reason, her heart did a little flip-flop. It must have been those eyes. They could have bored a hole clear through her skull. “You can go to the library and check out a book on chicken coop construction,” he said.
“Just like you can go to the library and learn how to bake honey apple pie?”
A soft, longing moan came from deep in his throat. “I could never make a pie like that. Don’t try to soften me up.”
“But if I stay away . . .” she said, her voice trailing off into nothingness. She hated letting him think he had a chance of talking her out of helping. She squared her shoulders and looked him in the eye. “If I stay away, you win.”
His eyes softened at the corners. “I alway
s win.”
Ach, no one got her as worked up as Luke Bontrager could. Every blood vessel in her neck was going to pop. “You do not,” she said. “Not this time.”
His laugh was deep and rolling, and she would have loved the sound had it not been at her expense. “Your eyes are so green,” he said.
Your eyes are green? What kind of a response was that? He was laughing at her because she had green eyes? There was no end to this boy’s arrogance.
He lost his smile and expelled a breath. “Poppy, I am stronger than you.”
“I moved all the wood before you got here.”
“Jah, with a sore hand. Any man who lets a woman do the heavy lifting should be ashamed of himself. I am stronger and more able to do the work. Let me do it.”
Poppy blew an imaginary wisp of hair from her face. “You’re not stronger.”
He huffed out another breath. “You’d lose in an arm wrestle.”
“All those muscles you have is one kind of strength. What about smarts? Do you think you’re smarter than me?”
His lips drooped downward. “I . . . I don’t know.” They kept drooping. “Even when I was in eighth grade and you were in sixth, you understood fractions better.”
Poppy tried not to show her complete and utter surprise that Luke would remember or admit that. She should be at least as gracious. “It’s because of all the cooking I do. There are fractions in every recipe.”
“The way you cook, it’s easy to tell you are a master at fractions.”
“You were better at geometry.”
He grinned reluctantly, as if wary she was still trying to soften him up. “Carpentry. I’m always fitting corners and cutting shapes.”
She turned her gaze to the field and studied him out of the corner of her eye. He was tall, probably six feet, and solid, like the maple tree that stood in the center of town. His arms were thick. She wouldn’t dare suggest an arm-wrestling contest.
She stood about five inches shorter, so his legs were longer, but she was wiry and fast. There were many different kinds of strength, after all.
“What about faster?”
“Faster than what?” he said.