Lily poured a bottle of chow-chow into a bowl and set it on the table. “We can’t very well invite Dan without inviting Luke.”
Aunt Bitsy gave an indignant harrumph. “Of course we can. We have to put up with Dan because he’s your fiancé, but I’d just as soon toss Luke out on his ear. He’s pushy and too sure of himself. I can’t abide a boy who is sure of himself.”
Lily laughed and pulled a stack of plates from the cupboard. “He’s confident, Aunt B. And smart. Dan likes him. He must have some gute qualities yet.”
“He saved Poppy’s hand,” Rose said. “And he glued her knee back together. And he built us a new chicken coop.”
And he had a nice smile, even though Poppy rarely saw it. But the smile wasn’t near enough to make up for his arrogance.
Dan walked into the house with Luke following close behind. “I fetched Luke just like you wanted,” Dan said, glancing at Lily, then Poppy, and grinning from ear to ear as if he were about to burst with a secret.
“Well, wash up then,” Aunt B said, not even pretending to be happy that Luke and Dan were here for dinner.
Dan led the way down the hall to the bathroom. Luke took off his hat and wiped the sweat from his brow. “How is your thumb?” he said as he passed Poppy.
She held it up, pretending it didn’t hurt something wonderful. The nail already looked a light purplish red. “It’s fine,” she said. It didn’t look any worse than the bruise across the back of her right hand or the swollen cut across her knee.
What had happened to her? A week ago, before Luke decided to interfere in her life, she hadn’t a scratch on her.
When Dan and Luke came back into the kitchen, Dan fetched the glasses and silverware and helped Lily set the table. Luke, on the other hand, made himself comfortable on the sofa. Billy Idol, who’d been lurking upstairs on the lookout for mice, appeared and leaped into Luke’s lap. Luke raised his hands as if the cat had a dread disease and then tried to brush Billy Idol off like a piece of lint. Billy Idol didn’t budge. Luke stood up in hopes of forcing Billy Idol to tumble. Billy Idol only scowled and dug his claws into Luke’s trousers.
Luke winced in pain and gave up trying to shake the cat. He sat back down on the sofa and let Billy Idol snuggle into his lap.
Aunt B propped her hands on her hips and glared at Luke as if he’d brought a live chicken into the house. “Young man, no one lounges around in my house when there’s work to be done.”
Luke, being his own predictable self, spread his arms and settled deeper into the sofa. “I don’t do women’s work,” he said, as if expecting everyone to sympathize with him. As if he had no idea how completely wrong he was.
Lily and Dan stopped setting the table to stare at him. Aunt Bitsy’s glare became positively lethal. Rose eyed Luke with something akin to horror on her face. Poppy smirked and cocked an eyebrow. After a pleasant day learning how to build a chicken coop, she’d almost forgotten how much she disliked him. As soon as her knee got better, she’d have to challenge him to another race, just to keep him humble.
“You’re too good to help us get dinner on?” Poppy said, almost hoping he’d dig a hole so deep for himself that he wouldn’t be able to climb out.
Luke shook his head. “Nae, but I’m a man. Men do the hard work and let the women do the easier chores.”
Even Billy Idol must have had enough of such talk. He twitched his whiskers and jumped off Luke’s lap.
Dan broke the uncomfortable silence by laughing out loud. He put his arm around Lily’s shoulder and gave her a squeeze. Lily smiled at him as if she were in on whatever secret he was keeping. “Don’t believe a word of it, Poppy. For sure and certain, Luke is just plain lazy.”
Luke didn’t seem the least bit offended. What would it take to ruffle those peacock feathers of his? “I just spent two whole days building a chicken coop.”
“With my help,” Poppy insisted.
Luke glanced in her direction, and his lips curled slightly upward. “With Poppy’s help.”
He seemed sincere, as if he actually appreciated her help. Or maybe he’d just decided she hadn’t been a complete nuisance. Why did that casual grin set her heart fluttering like a moth to a lantern, especially when she didn’t even like him?
“It was very nice of you to build us a new chicken coop,” Rose said.
“You won’t help with dinner,” Dan said. “Sounds lazy to me.”
“I’m not lazy.” Luke leaned forward and propped his elbows on his knees, revealing the hard muscles of his arms. Nae, those weren’t the arms of a lazy man. He might be a hard worker, but he was still conceited.
If Luke was to be brought to the depths of humility, Poppy would have to be the one to do it. She’d made Marty Hoover cry in the sixth grade. She could surely teach Luke Bontrager a lesson.
She took the watermelon from the counter and set it on the butcher-block island. “You’re afraid you’ll be outdone by a girl.”
A spark flashed in his eyes. This was the way to ruffle Luke Bontrager’s feathers. “I’m not afraid of anything.”
She pulled two knives from the knife block and held them in the air like umbrellas. “If you think women’s work is so easy, why don’t you cut this watermelon just to show me how it’s done?”
“You can cut a watermelon all by yourself with no help from me.”
Poppy smile archly. “I bet I’m faster.”
“I’ll bet you’re not,” he said.
“Would you like to find out?” She pointed one of the knives in his direction.
“Nae,” he said. “I don’t have to prove it.”
“Then you’re afraid because I beat you in that race.”
“I was wearing my boots,” he said, but he didn’t seem exceptionally bitter about losing to a girl. He stood up, came around the island, and took one of Poppy’s knives. “You forget that I’m a carpenter. I can cut a watermelon faster than you can get rolled up in a car window.”
“We’ll see.” Poppy sliced the watermelon down the center and gave Luke half. She pulled two cutting boards from the drawer and handed him one.
“We’d better move out of the way, Rose,” Aunt B said. She gazed up at the ceiling. “Dear Lord, we know Luke is a proud young man, but please see to it that he doesn’t chop off his fingers.” She looked at Poppy and shrugged. “If I had known you were going to challenge Luke to a race, I wouldn’t have sharpened the knives this morning. I’m afraid there’s going to be blood.”
“Don’t worry about me. I work with very dangerous tools,” Luke said, with that aggravating air of confidence. “It’s Poppy you should be worried about.”
Poppy kept her smile to herself. Luke Bontrager would be cut down to size same as the watermelon.
Dan said “go,” and he and Poppy’s sisters and Aunt B watched intently as Luke sliced his watermelon with a vengeance. Poppy turned her watermelon cut-side-down and sliced the rind off from top to bottom like peeling an orange. It was a trick Mammi Sarah had taught her, and it proved twice as fast as cutting the rind off each individual slice.
Luke saw what she was doing, but he was too far into his own cutting to change course, so naturally he tried to distract her. “You’re going to lose that nail, you know. If you hadn’t insisted on helping with the chicken coop, you wouldn’t have hammered your thumb flat and you’d still have ten perfectly good fingernails and a leg that bends correctly.” He chopped wildly at his watermelon, making juice fly in every direction.
Poppy grinned as his desperation seemed to mount. “If you had agreed to my helping in the first place, you wouldn’t have been humiliated in that footrace. It hurts to lose, doesn’t it?”
“You should know,” he said.
Poppy finished cutting while Luke wrestled mightily with the rind of his last slice. She’d beaten him with two bad hands and a smashed thumbnail. Dan and Lily cheered, and Rose nearly clapped her hands. She must have thought better of it, because at the last second, she folded her arms and stared out th
e window as if nothing out of the ordinary were happening in the kitchen. Tenderhearted Rose wouldn’t gloat, not even at Luke Bontrager.
Luke hurried to finish his watermelon, got overzealous on the last cut, and sliced right through the knuckle of his left index finger. He growled in frustration, and Poppy only knew it hurt because a grimace traveled fleetingly across his face.
“Are you okay?” she said, trying to suppress her elation at besting Luke once again. He’d cut himself. Probably not the best time to give a victory cheer.
He grabbed the nearest dish towel and wound it tightly around his finger. “Right as rain,” he said, pressing the towel to his finger with his other hand.
“Put pressure on it,” Poppy said.
“That was my favorite dish towel,” Aunt Bitsy murmured. “I should have asked for protection for the towels in my prayer.”
Poppy watched in alarm as a wide spot of blood seeped through the towel. “Do you need stitches?”
He frowned and raised an eyebrow. “If you don’t need stitches, then I don’t need stitches.”
It didn’t seem as if he would die. Poppy smiled. “I won.”
“Don’t get used to it,” he said, with a deep huskiness to his voice. “It will never happen again.”
He narrowed his eyes and pressed his lips together in a tight line, as if planning a strategy for the next contest. He obviously didn’t like to lose, but the good-natured glint in his eye surprised her. She’d expected him to be a sore loser, especially to a girl.
“I wouldn’t be too confident,” Poppy said.
His smile nearly knocked her over. “You might have won, Poppy Christner.” He lifted his hand with the towel attached. “But this gets me out of kitchen duty.”
“It doesn’t get you out of anything,” Aunt Bitsy said. “There’s lots of things you can do with one hand.”
“As long as it’s man’s work,” he said with a grin.
B looked as if she might be ready to sell him to a band of traveling nomads.
“No need, Aunt B,” said Lily, pulling a chair from the table. “We’re ready to eat.”
Poppy slid the watermelon into a bowl and set it on the table. Aunt B sat at the head of the table with Rose to her left and Lily to her right. Dan sat next to Lily and Poppy sat next to Rose. That left the other end of the table for Luke. It also meant Poppy would have to hold his hand during the prayer.
Could she trade places with Rose without being obvious?
Nae. Rose was skittish enough around boys. She might break into hives if she had to sit next to formidable Luke Bontrager. She might faint if she had to hold his hand. Poppy clenched her teeth. She would have to be the tough one.
They always had two prayers at mealtime. Aunt B said the first one out loud while they held hands, and then they bowed their heads in silent grace in the proper Amish tradition. Poppy’s grandparents often admonished Aunt B about her unconventional praying, but Aunt B insisted that two prayers were always better than one. It was hard to argue with that, even for her grandfather, Dawdi Sol, and he argued about everything.
Aunt B held out her hands for Rose and Lily. Rose in turn wrapped her fingers around Poppy’s hand, and Poppy reluctantly reached out her bruised hand to Luke. She tried to act as if she absolutely did not care that she had to make contact with him. Dan was the fortunate one. He simply took hold of the dish towel wrapped around Luke’s finger.
Luke took her bruised hand as if he were reaching for one of his tools—without a fuss and without emotion. Holding hands with a girl obviously didn’t unnerve him one little bit. He probably did it all the time.
“Is this okay?” he said, giving her hand a light squeeze. “You still look pretty sore.”
Poppy felt the heat creep up her neck for absolutely no reason whatsoever. Her bruise ached, but her hand didn’t particularly hurt when Luke took it. It felt rather more like a tingling sensation that trickled up her arm. “I’m fine,” she said without meeting his eye. She didn’t want him to suspect that his touch was comfortable and unnerving at the same time. He wouldn’t see a moment of weakness from Poppy Christner.
Aunt Bitsy didn’t waste time or mince words. She often started her prayer before anyone was ready. “Dear Heavenly Father,” she said. Everyone quickly bowed their heads and closed their eyes. “We are grateful to be all together—not so grateful that Luke came by, but he did build us a new chicken coop and we owe him dinner. Since he is here, we ask that You strike him with a good dose of humility and give him more sense than to cut his finger again.”
Poppy felt a little tug on her hand from Luke’s side. Did Aunt B’s plain way of speaking offend him? He hadn’t seemed to crave Aunt B’s approval before. Why would he start now?
“Lord, will You please forgive the person who chopped down our coop and give him a severe case of poison ivy to remind him of his wickedness?” Aunt B paused. She often reconsidered halfway through her prayers. “If the poison ivy is too much, could You at least send a few mosquitoes to plague him? If it was good enough for Pharoah, it is good enough for him. Please also bless me to think up a plot for my vampire romance. I need to pay for this wedding. Amen.”
Poppy didn’t even raise her head. As expected, Aunt B grunted in frustration and raised her voice to heaven once again. “And please bless this food to our use. Amen.” She always forgot to bless the food the first time.
Poppy opened her eyes long enough to steal a glance at Luke. Most of the men in the district, including those as young as Luke, would have seriously disapproved of Aunt Bitsy talking to Gotte out loud, and any number of them would have given her a stern lecture on the spot. Luke, on the other hand, wore an unremarkable expression, as if Aunt B hadn’t just said a very un-Amish prayer and censured him right in front of Gotte and everybody at the dinner table.
“Now you can all say your own prayer,” Bitsy said.
Poppy again bowed her head. The silent prayer was how Aunt Bitsy ensured that her nieces learned how to be proper Amish girls. It had been their mater’s dying wish. Poppy closed her prayer and looked up.
Rose frowned, and her eyes were scrunched and soft like they always got when something troubled her. She wore that look more and more often these days. “Aunt Bitsy,” Rose said. “Poison ivy can be very serious. People have ended up in the hospital.”
The lines around Aunt B’s mouth softened. “Oh, Rosie. Gotte will give that boy, whoever he is, just what he deserves in His own due time. I don’t really have any say in it.”
“Maybe he’s had a hard life,” Rose said. “Maybe chopping down chicken coops and scaring our chickens is the only way he can find happiness.”
Fire leaped into Luke’s eyes. “A man finds happiness in behaving like a man, not in hurting other people and their chickens.” He glanced at Rose and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to sound harsh. You have a gute heart.”
A light pink tinted Rose’s cheeks. “I hope you found happiness in building the chicken coop.”
Luke nodded and took the meat loaf plate from Poppy. “I like working with my hands.”
“You have done us a very good deed, and we think you are wunderbarr,” Rose said.
Dan chuckled. “Be careful, Rose, or you’ll undo Bitsy’s prayer. How is Luke ever going to learn humility if you call him wunderbarr?”
Luke leaned back and grinned. “Bitsy thinks I’m proud because she doesn’t know me well.” He inclined his head in Aunt Bitsy’s direction. “I forgive you.”
Aunt B always wore an I’m-barely-putting-up-with-you expression for Luke. “Denki from the bottom of my heart.”
Lily giggled. Poppy hid a smirk behind her hand. Luke had not the least desire to impress Aunt B, and B had not the least desire to befriend Luke. It was almost fun to watch them bait each other.
Luke pretended that Aunt B was sincere and showed off his nice white teeth when he smiled. “You’re welcome.”
Dan helped himself to a piece of Poppy’s nut brown bre
ad. “You can’t use that excuse on me. I know you better than just about anybody. You’re arrogant, grumpy, and you’ve been hit one too many times in the face with a hammer.”
Luke laughed and scooped a mountain of mashed potatoes onto his plate. “You’re just jealous because I’m handsomer and smarter than you.”
“There’s no one handsomer than Dan,” Lily said, looking at Dan as if he were a cupcake with sprinkles on top. Poppy’s insides felt all soft and mushy. Would she ever love someone the way Lily loved Dan?
Not likely. There weren’t many boys she could tolerate, let alone one she could love. Most of them were like Luke Bontrager, proud and oh so superior. She hadn’t trusted a boy since she was seven, when a boy’s vindictive lie had gotten her a whipping from Dawdi Sol.
Luke had said she’d never get a husband because she was stubborn. Dawdi used to tell her she’d never marry because she refused to act like a girl. She flinched. She could still feel the sting of Dawdi’s hickory switch.
Luke paused between hearty bites of potato and looked at Poppy. “You okay?”
She immediately straightened and skewered a piece of watermelon with her fork. “I’m fine.”
He frowned. “You really should take that thumb to a doctor. And get a tetanus shot.”
She merely gave him a glare and took a bite of corn. Luke was in the same boat she was. For sure and certain, no one could love him just the way he was. It gave her a small measure of comfort and made her feel worse at the same time.
She studied Luke out of the corner of her eye. She was only fooling herself to think that Luke would remain a bachelor. He was certainly handsome enough to catch a wife, while she was as plain as a fence post—he’d told her so himself. And while she hated to admit it, Luke did have some gute qualities, like the kindness he showed to Rose and his good-natured determination not to be offended or cowered by Aunt Bitsy.
It didn’t matter how abrasive or proud Luke was, he would get a wife—someone sweet and pretty and biddable like Treva King or Dinah Eicher. Not someone like Poppy Christner, who refused to keep her temper and spoke her mind and made a boy teach her how to build a chicken coop against his will.