He studied her face until she stepped back and resumed brushing her side of Esther’s horse. Something had been different about Fern ever since that Sunday after gmay when he had let her walk home by herself in the rain. It felt almost as if she was in mourning even though nobody had died. She was wonderful gute to everyone and almost as cheerful, but her brown eyes held a look of sadness that Reuben wasn’t quite sure how to get rid of.
He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was responsible for that look, but he didn’t know what he might have done. Ach, vell, that wasn’t entirely true. He could think of a lot of things he’d done lately that he shouldn’t have, but Fern had never held his mistakes against him. She was the most forgiving soul he knew, and among the Amish, that was saying something. And she had been willing to come to Esther’s today to help brush the horse that had probably never been groomed in its life.
Reuben knew he was risking Esther’s displeasure, but he just had to say something. “Esther, how often do you brush Fluffy?”
“I never brush her. I get too close to horse hair, and I sneeze something wonderful. That’s why I’m having you do it. My dat was getting impatient for it to be done.”
He clenched his teeth and determined to keep his temper. “Esther, your horse needs to be brushed every day. She could get all sorts of diseases without proper care.”
Esther shrugged. “We’ve had her for three years, and she’s never took sick a day in her life.”
He swallowed a heavy sigh. “Then I guess Gotte has been looking out for her.” Dawdi would have to talk to Esther’s dat. Reuben would not get far with Esther.
“She’s a wonderful-pretty horse under all this hair,” Fern said from the other side of Fluffy. She sneezed twice in succession.
Reuben stood on his tiptoes to look over Fluffy’s back. “You okay?”
Fern dabbed at her nose with her forearm. “Right as rain. I just had a little tickle.”
Esther stiffened. “Shh. Quiet.”
Reuben froze. He heard a horse and buggy drawing up outside Esther’s house.
“Who is that?” Esther asked, as if Reuben or Fern must know who had just ridden into her yard.
Reuben shrugged. “You expecting someone?”
“Of course not,” Esther hissed. She let herself down from the stall door and peeked out the small window. Gasping like a leaky bicycle tire, she ducked beneath the window, got down on her hands and knees, and motioned wildly for Fern and Reuben to do the same. Reuben stayed on his feet. He was standing in the stall. No one could see him from the window. Fern, with raised eyebrows and a quirky grin on her lips, retreated to the safety of the wall behind Reuben and pressed her back against it.
Reuben winked at Fern. “Is it the police?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Esther scolded, whispering loudly enough that Reuben’s deaf uncle could have heard her. “It’s Sadie. She doesn’t know you’ve been coming around to court me.”
Reuben’s lungs seized up as if Fluffy had sat on his chest. Did Esther say “court”?
Maybe he’d heard her wrong.
Fern’s mouth dropped open, and her eyes were as round as saucers. She clapped her hand over her mouth, but whether it was to stop a horrified laugh or a terrified scream, Reuben couldn’t begin to guess.
Okay, it was plain from Fern’s reaction that he hadn’t heard Esther wrong. She’d said “court,” and something told him that was exactly what she had meant.
He was in big trouble.
Esther cracked open the door as if she were planning on sliding out like a pancake. “Stay here, and don’t make a sound. I’ll get rid of her.” She squeezed out the door and slammed it behind her.
Fern looked dazed and confused and slightly uneasy, as if she’d just woken up from a dead faint. “Oh, sis yuscht.”
Reuben returned her dazed look with a horrified one of his own.
“You’re . . . you’re not courting Esther, are you?”
He coughed as if her question had choked him. “How can you even ask that?”
She let out a sigh, which sounded a great deal like relief, grinned, shushed him loudly, and tiptoed so close he could smell her clean scent. “You’re supposed to be quiet,” she whispered. “And why does Esther think you’re courting her?”
“A wild imagination?”
Fern giggled softly. “You’re handsome, nice, and a very gute dog washer. It’s probably wishful thinking.”
“You forgot proud,” he said, flashing her a self-deprecating smile.
“Jah. Everything a girl could want.” Fern twirled her finger around a lock of hair that had escaped from beneath her scarf, then tucked it behind her ear.
Reuben clenched his fists. “Quit doing that.”
“Doing what?” she whispered back.
“That thing you do when you smooth your hair behind your ears. It drives me crazy.”
“Why?”
“We can’t afford to be distracted right now. We’ve got to figure out a way to break the news to Esther that I’m not courting her and that her horse needs to be brushed more than once a decade.”
“I think you’re just going to have to come right out and tell her,” Fern said.
Her face was within inches of his, and he couldn’t think of anything else but that her skin looked as pale and smooth as vanilla bean ice cream. “Tell her what?” he mumbled.
“Tell her that you’re not courting her.” She crinkled her nose. “Unless you want to court her, then I suppose you don’t have to tell her anything.”
“Of course I don’t want to court her, but if she gets mad at me, she might convince Sadie and the others to leave me out of things.”
Fern looked away as if she had something very important to see on the far wall. “Like buggy racing.”
He shouldn’t have said that. Every time he thought of the buggy races, it felt like a sliver stuck in his heart. There was no telling how the memory affected Fern. “You’re right. Esther might be angry, but I can’t let her go on anticipating a wedding.”
“It would be terrible if she did.”
“How long do you think we’ll have to hide in here?” Reuben said, after a long minute of just staring at Fern while she stared at the far wall.
“Did they go in the house? We could sneak out while they’re in there.”
Reuben chuckled. “I don’t know why we’re being so secretive. Sadie will be suspicious the minute she sees Dawdi’s buggy. Esther would have to be very clever to explain the buggy.”
Fern smiled. “You’re right. It’s only a matter of time.”
Reuben started brushing Fluffy’s hind end. “If we’re stuck in here for a while, we might as well make the most of it.”
“Jah,” Fern said. “If Esther chases you off or Sadie invites you to a picnic, we ought to finish with Fluffy first.” She disappeared around the other side of the horse and sneezed again. “Esther could stuff a small pillow with all the horse hair we’ve collected.”
“Don’t suggest it to her.”
They heard two very loud voices just as the door swung open, and Sadie marched into the barn as if she was on the attack. The door made a wonderful racket as it slammed against the back wall. Sadie obviously meant business.
“Reuben? What are you doing here?” she snapped, as if he’d been caught sneaking around a bank after hours. Her nostrils flared, and her face was about three different shades of bright pink.
He didn’t quite know how to explain himself without making Sadie madder than she already was. So he opted for the simplest answer. “I’m brushing Esther’s horse.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Why are you brushing Esther’s horse? And why didn’t you tell me you were coming over?”
The answer he wanted to give was that it was none of Sadie’s business how he spent his time, but he’d rather not see her turn purple. He stepped away from Fluffy and toward Sadie. “I’ve been working to make amends for breaking up the knitting group.”
Sadie ey
ed Esther with disgust. “That was almost three weeks ago. What do you think you’re doing?”
Esther stuck out her bottom lip in a very impressive pout. “Reuben hurt my feelings wonderful hard. It’s going to take a lot of time to see clear to forgive him yet.”
Frowning mightily, Sadie folded her arms across her chest and tilted her head to one side. “You expect me to believe that? Why didn’t you tell me Reuben has been coming over here?”
“I didn’t want a lecture about forgiveness,” Esther said, lifting her chin so high, it nearly pointed to the ceiling.
Sadie turned on Reuben like an angry cat. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Reuben’s heart sank. For sure and certain, she’d think twice about inviting him to the next buggy race. “Esther asked me to keep it a secret. I took it as part of my punishment.”
That explanation didn’t seem good enough for Sadie. “I don’t care what Esther asked. You should never keep secrets from your girlfriend.”
Esther drew in a breath as if she were trying to suck in all the water in Lake Michigan. “You’re not his girlfriend. I’m his girlfriend.”
Ach, du lieva! Reuben’s tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. Was this really happening? How could he go from having no fiancée one minute to having two girlfriends the next?
He glanced behind him at Fern. She’d turned deathly pale, her lips pressed together and eyes round with apprehension.
Sadie’s eyes grew wider than Fern’s, and she huffed and puffed at Esther like the big, bad wolf. “You are not Reuben’s girlfriend. He’s been to my house several times. Dat invited him to dinner, and he’s played Scrabble with my family. My dat has already given his approval.”
Reuben thought he might throw up. What exactly had Sadie’s dat given his approval for?
Esther stepped forward until she was nearly touching noses with Sadie. “He’s washed my three dogs and brushed my horse and fixed my buggy.”
“Only because he feels obligated,” Sadie said.
Esther grunted her indignation. “He ate a whole pint jar of my famous pickled red beets.”
Well, not exactly. He’d given them to Fern, and Fern had eaten them.
Reuben could practically see the smoke coming out of Sadie’s ears. “Oh, really? You told me you hated Reuben and that you hoped he went back to Sugarcreek.”
“That was before I changed my mind,” Esther said. “Reuben loves me. He works our farm like Jacob in the Bible worked for Rachel.”
There was no way Reuben would keep coming to Esther’s for seven years. He took a few steps back and moved next to Fern. Maybe they’d keep on fighting and forget he was in the barn. He couldn’t begin to untangle the knot Esther and Sadie had tied.
Sadie’s look could have made Dawdi’s beard fall off. “Why don’t we just ask Reuben about that?”
Both girls turned in his direction and glared at him. He swallowed hard. So much for the plan of sneaking out when they weren’t paying attention. He hoped Fern had some ideas, because he couldn’t begin to know how to make both girls happy.
“Reuben,” Sadie said.
He half considered bolting for the door before she could say another word. It would be better for him if they just kept guessing. Forever.
“Tell Esther who your girlfriend is,” Sadie said, arching an eyebrow and pasting a smug smile on her face. Of course she was confident. She was good-natured, pretty, and the bishop’s daughter. She had to know that she was more appealing than Esther. She also knew how much time Reuben had been spending at her house. Had he made a horrible mistake?
His mind raced for a solution to this mess. He needed Sadie’s friendship in order to be truly accepted in Bonduel, but he couldn’t pretend she was his girlfriend when she wasn’t. Sadie had her gute qualities—even Esther had some gute qualities, though he couldn’t think of any at the moment—but Sadie was also snobby, self-centered, and mean-spirited. There was a chance she’d grow out of that, but he didn’t want to wait to find out.
Surely Fern would help him out of this. She was a girl. She knew how girls’ minds worked. He glanced at her, hoping she’d take the hint and say something sensible that would make everything all better.
Fern stood like a stone with her arms braced around her waist, her lips clamped so tightly together, he’d need a crowbar to pry them open. He couldn’t begin to guess what she was thinking, but he had a sinking feeling that she would be no help at all. The only thing Reuben was sure of was that he couldn’t lie to Sadie or Esther, and he certainly couldn’t lead them on, no matter the consequences. Linda Sue had lied to him, and Reuben would at least be honest about his feelings.
He swallowed hard again, which did nothing to stop him from stuttering. “I . . . I . . . I’m sorry, but can’t the three”—he motioned to Fern—“four of us just be friends?”
“Friends?” Esther said, scrunching her lips as if he’d just asked her to eat horse manure.
Sadie looked no less horrified, except that her eyes pooled with tears. “What do you mean, friends?”
Fern didn’t fail him after all. “I think what Reuben is trying to say is that he doesn’t want to have to limit his circle of friends by singling out just one girl.”
That wasn’t what he was trying to say at all, but it would do for now.
Sadie slapped a tear off her cheek. “I don’t see how you have anything to say about it, Fern. You want Reuben for yourself.”
Reuben stepped forward before Sadie started gnashing her teeth. “Now, Sadie. That’s not true. Fern just wants to be my friend too.”
“Friendship with her isn’t going to get you anywhere,” Sadie said, as the tears streaked down her face.
Reuben frowned. His friendship with Fern was the only thing that had kept him afloat in Bonduel. “Sadie, I know you’re angry—”
“Angry?” she sobbed. “I’m not angry. I’m hurt. All this time, all that painting. I thought you liked me.”
“I thought you liked me,” Esther said. “You borrowed my blanket.”
Reuben stepped between Sadie and Esther and awkwardly patted them both on the shoulder. “I do like you. We’ve been getting along wonderful well.”
Sadie mopped up her face with the hem of her apron. “You’ve flirted with me for weeks. Everybody thinks you’re my boyfriend. Everybody.”
“I never did,” Esther said, folding her arms and refusing to look at either of them.
“I won’t be friends with you,” Sadie said. “I’m either your girlfriend or nothing.”
All the hard work he’d done over more than a month was about to crumble, but he couldn’t lead Sadie on the way Linda Sue had led him on. And there was no chance that things with Sadie would get better. He couldn’t overlook the kind of person she was deep down. He couldn’t excuse the way she treated people like Fern. He could only hope that she’d still accept him into her group. But by the way she looked at him, acceptance didn’t seem likely.
He pushed up his hat and scratched his head. “Please, Sadie. Don’t be like that. I don’t want to go steady, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.”
The leaky dam Sadie had been trying to hold back suddenly broke. She cried as if her heart were breaking. “You told me you might stay in Bonduel. I beat you at Scrabble, and you helped my dat milk cows. You made me believe you wanted to marry me.”
He hated to tell her that he had let her win at Scrabble. That girl couldn’t have won a game of Scrabble if she was playing against herself. Reuben didn’t know what else to do but that awkward patting thing again. “I . . . I’m sorry, Sadie. I was trying to be friendly.”
Sadie sniffed back her tears. “You’re such a liar, and I’m done shedding one more tear over you. It serves you right.” She turned up her nose at him and strutted out of the barn.
“What about me?” Esther said. “I’ll still be your girlfriend.”
Reuben would have laughed if the whole thing hadn’t been so absurd. Poor Esther. “I just want to be f
riends with you too.”
She seemed to chew on his words for a second. “I still expect you to come every week and clean something.”
“Esther,” Sadie yelled from outside, “we are never speaking to Reuben Helmuth again. Either of us.”
Esther narrowed her eyes and practically hissed at Reuben. “That’s right. We’re never talking to you again.” She took one step toward the door, then turned back around and came closer. “But you can still come over every week,” she whispered. “I’ll leave a note with your chores. Don’t tell Sadie.”
Chapter Twenty
Fern’s stomach felt as if she’d swallowed a watermelon-sized rock. Even though she practically had to force-feed herself during dinner, she often had no idea where her next meal was going to come from, so she couldn’t justify being picky. Or ungrateful. Anna Helmuth might not be a very gute cook, but the love she put into her cooking made even the corn casserole with rice and raisins go down easier.
Fern had eaten two helpings of everything at the table and only stopped when she truly couldn’t stuff another bite into her mouth. Anna had made crispy, crunchy, burned corn dogs, corn-rice casserole, banana-tomato bread, and green Jell-O with pickles for Sunday dinner. Fern had smeared half an inch of butter and huckleberry jelly on her bread, and the jelly had covered the taste of tomato well enough—well enough that Fern had been able to eat two pieces without gagging. She had separated the pickles from the Jell-O while Anna wasn’t looking, shaken the runny, green gelatin from each one, and popped them into her mouth. She liked pickles. And Jell-O. But not necessarily swimming together in a bowl.
Still, Anna had outdone herself, and Fern was incredibly grateful. Today was in-between Sunday, and because they didn’t have gmay with a fellowship supper afterward, Fern often went hungry on in-between Sundays.
“That was a wonderful-gute dinner,” Fern said, easing onto the sofa and picking up her knitting.