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  “Jah, you should.”

  He leaned back in his chair. “And that’s why I’m moving to Montana.”

  “You don’t want to move to Montana. I hear the wind blows all the time.”

  “There’s lots of Amish in Florida. I could go to the beach.”

  Fern’s smile looked like a scold. “You’re not going to run away until you’ve fixed things with the knitting group.”

  Reuben slumped his shoulders as his guilty conscience slugged him in the chest. “How do you suggest I do that?”

  “It’s not going to be easy, and it may involve some groveling.”

  Reuben frowned harder. “I was rude. I’ll do what I can to make it right, but I’d rather not grovel, if it’s all the same to you.”

  Fern pinned him with a critical eye as if trying to determine whether he was truly serious about repentance. She picked up one of his cookies and tapped it against the table like a gavel. “You can’t avoid the groveling, because the first person you’ve got to apologize to is your mammi.”

  Chapter Nine

  “She’s here,” Reuben said, doing his best to look cheerful as he finished stringing twine between two stakes.

  Fern, maneuvering in Felty’s boots as best she could, stepped over the row they had just planted and gazed past the barn and down the lane. A silver car lumbered up the lane with a cute little Amish woman in a white kapp in the passenger seat. Anna was back, and Reuben was about to get very uncomfortable.

  Fern brushed the dirt off her hands and smiled reassuringly at Reuben. He dreaded the thought of his mammi’s disappointment, but it had to be done. “Cum,” she said. “Sooner than later is always best.”

  Reuben squinted and fingered the small scar in his eyebrow. “You don’t have to come, if you don’t want. You had no part in my temper tantrum.”

  Fern twisted her lips into a silly grin. “You’re very brave, but I’m afraid without me, you’ll mess it up and be worse off than before.”

  He raised his scarred eyebrow and studied her face as if he were thinking about it. “Mammi will never take you seriously in those boots.”

  “These are Felty’s boots. She thinks they’re adorable on me.”

  “Adorable and floppy. You’re going to break your neck someday.”

  She didn’t mean to prove Reuben right, but she turned and stumbled over a dirt clod, nearly losing her balance and her dignity at the same time. Grinning smugly, Reuben slipped his hand into hers and tugged her forward.

  Ach, du lieva.

  She wished he wouldn’t do that. He thought of her as a little sister, but it never felt quite brotherly when he took her hand. She shook her head. Her daydreams had been nonsense six years ago when she was a moony fourteen-year-old. They were still nonsense. Reuben was handsome and lovable, but he was proud and impetuous and too gute for a pig farmer’s daughter. She’d given up on her daydreams years ago.

  Reuben slowed his pace so Fern could keep up in her wobbly boots. “We’ve been digging and planting for two hours, and I still haven’t figured out what to say to Mammi except ‘I’m sorry.’”

  “It will be fine. Anna would never hold a grudge against her favorite grandson.”

  “Mammi has more than fifty grandsons,” Reuben said. “I’m not even in her top ten, especially after I tell her what I’ve done.”

  They approached the car as Anna climbed out, wearing a hot-pink sweater and dragging a large canvas bag behind her. Fern liked the sweater even though it wasn’t the traditional Amish black. Maybe she’d gotten special permission from the bishop to wear pink. Anna’s face lit up at the sight of Reuben and Fern. She leaned over so she could see the driver through the window. “Peggy, this is my grandson Reuben and his friend Fern. Fern is a knitter, and Reuben has done nothing but fret for three months. But he seems to be getting better.”

  Reuben curled his lips. He loved his mammi very much, and Anna never meant harm to anybody. He took her bag and slung it over his shoulder.

  Anna waved to her driver through the open window. “Good-bye. Thank you for the ride.”

  “I hope the little one feels better,” Peggy said.

  “She will. It’s a mild case.”

  The car did a three-point turn and drove down the hill. Though she was as spry as a sixty-year-old, Anna took Reuben’s arm and let him lead her up the porch steps and into the house.

  Fern followed them and left Felty’s boots on the porch. She’d come out later and clean them off.

  Reuben helped Anna take off her sweater, then hung it on the hook by the door. “Denki, Reuben dear.”

  “How is little Sarah?” Reuben asked.

  “Chicken pox is miserable, but she’s young, so she doesn’t have a bad case. She screamed like a raccoon through her oatmeal bath, but then she settled down and let me read her a book. Then every mater in the neighborhood brought her children over to play.”

  “On purpose?”

  Anna nodded. “They all want their kinner to get chicken pox so they don’t have to get the shot. There were children running amok all through the house. Mind you, I don’t mind noisy children. I had thirteen of my own, but Sarah is sick and Emma very nearly pulled her hair out. Andy Schmucker climbs on everything, and Mary Kiem eats her boogers.” Anna shuffled to the fridge and pulled out a can of biscuit dough. “I think I’ll make Spam Pinwheels for lunch. How does that sound?”

  “Delicious,” Reuben said, and Fern marveled at Reuben’s ironclad taste buds. “But you’ve had a long morning.” He strode to the kitchen and took Anna’s arm. “Why don’t you sit and rest yourself for a minute. You just got home.”

  Anna waved him away. “I’m not tired, and you two look hungry. I can always see it in the eyes when someone needs to eat. I’ve got a sense about such things.” She peeled some of the paper covering from the biscuit can and made Fern jump when she smacked it against the corner of the counter. There was a pop, and biscuit dough began to seep from the seams in the can.

  Fern swallowed hard. No matter how empty her stomach was, Spam Pinwheels sounded about as appetizing as oyster and water chestnut salad. Could she pretend to have a stomachache? She wouldn’t have to pretend once she ate them.

  Anna pulled the dough from the can one triangle at a time and smashed each one onto a cookie sheet. “How was knitting group? Did Eva finish her blanket? She was the furthest along.”

  Reuben frowned and glanced at Fern. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

  “You wanted to talk to me about something?”

  “Maybe you should sit down,” he said.

  Anna stopped squishing triangles and peered at Reuben over her glasses. “Oh dear. Is it serious? Did Esther tie a knot that Dorothy couldn’t untangle? Did she throw her yarn at someone? I was afraid she’d do that from the very first. She is a lovely girl, but she does have a bit of a temper.”

  “Nae, nothing like that, Mammi,” Reuben said. “I’m the one with the bit of a temper.”

  Anna looked increasingly puzzled as Reuben took her greasy hand and led her to the table. “Did Dorothy quit? She’s very patient, but Esther could try the patience of Job.”

  “Jah,” Reuben said, pulling a chair out for Fern and then sitting down next to his mammi. “Dorothy quit the knitting group. And Lorene and Sadie and everybody but Fern.”

  Fern smiled to herself. Reuben had confidence she’d stick with him, even though there was no point to a knitting group with one member.

  The crisscross pattern of wrinkles on Anna’s forehead congregated around her eyebrows. “How many knots did Esther tie?”

  Reuben cleared his throat and scooted his chair forward and then back and then sideways so it ended up where he’d started. He wasn’t comfortable, but Fern was proud of him. Despite his strange taste for Anna’s cooking, she knew how hard it was for him to eat humble pie. “They quit because of me, Mammi.”

  Anna’s wrinkles started bumping into each other. “How many knots did you tie?”

 
Reuben looked at Fern as if she could give him the right words.

  “There was a misunderstanding,” Fern said.

  Reuben nodded so enthusiastically that he nearly fanned up a breeze. “Jah, a misunderstanding.”

  The worry lines on Anna’s face kept getting deeper. “Did the egg timer break? It was a very gute one from Lark Country Store. If anyone knows his gadgets, it’s Felty.”

  “Mammi,” Reuben said, scooting his chair in a dozen different directions. “The knitting girls found out about Linda Sue, and I thought they felt sorry for me. I thought maybe they were poking fun at me behind my back yet. There’s no excuse for it, but I lost my temper. I told them all to go away and never come back. They went.”

  “Even Dorothy? She loves to knit.”

  “Even Dorothy. She told me I didn’t have any manners, and she was right. I’m ashamed of myself, Mammi, and I hope you’ll see it in your heart to forgive me.”

  Anna pressed her lips together as her gaze traveled to the ceiling. She blinked rapidly, as if clearing any thought of tears from her eyes. “Of course I forgive you, Reuben. You’re wrapped up in yourself and you don’t think things through very well, but you’re my grandson and I couldn’t love anybody better. But what about Esther’s blanket? She’ll never finish it for the hospital. And how will we ever get you a wife if you throw perfectly nice girls out of my house?”

  “I didn’t throw anybody out—”

  Anna’s agitation compelled her to stand up and pace the small space between the fridge and the kitchen counter. “What about Fern? She was hoping the knitting group would cheer you up, and I know she really wanted to give some blankets to the hospital. Think of all those babies who will have to go home wrapped in nothing but newspaper.”

  “I don’t think they do that anymore,” Reuben said.

  Anna came back around the counter, plopped herself far from Reuben and next to Fern, and patted Fern’s cheek. “Poor Fern. She’s the only member of the knitting group. Everyone’s gone except Fern.”

  Reuben glanced at Fern and made her heart hop like a grasshopper. “Except Fern. She is the only one who stayed, even though she had every reason to leave.”

  Anna eyed Fern as if an idea had just occurred to her. “Fern, you’re a very pretty girl, and you have a very thick skin to put up with Reuben.”

  Fern smiled. “Not at all. Everyone loves Reuben.” She grimaced as if she’d just eaten a lemon. “Vell, almost everybody. The knitting group isn’t so fond of him right now, but there is still hope. We have a plan to make it all better.”

  Anna tilted her head as if that improved her hearing. “What plan?”

  Fern studied Reuben out of the corner of her eye. The penance would have to be grand to make amends to Anna. Fern had to act now, and Reuben would simply have to go along with it or lose his mammi’s favor forever. “Reuben feels terrible about what he did.”

  Reuben nodded earnestly. “I do.”

  “So in honor of you and the knitting group, he will learn how to knit.”

  Anna lit up like a sky of a thousand stars. “He will?”

  Reuben lit up like a bonfire doused with gasoline. “I will?”

  Fern stared him down with all the force of an annoying little sister. “He will, and he will personally knit a blanket for the hospital. A pink one.”

  Anna clapped her hands together, leaned over the table, and gave Reuben a loud smack on the cheek. “You always were one of my favorite grandsons,” she said. “Titus and Mark are the only ones who know how to knit.”

  Reuben was probably giving Fern a very stern lecture in his head, but he wouldn’t dare say anything that would make his mammi unhappy. She gave him the biggest grin she could stretch her cheeks around. He smiled back through gritted teeth.

  Anna sat back down and squeezed Fern’s wrist. “I never thought I’d see the day. Isn’t it wunderbarr, Fern?”

  “Jah. I have a feeling Reuben is going to be a very dedicated knitter. The babies won’t get newspaper from him, for sure and certain.”

  Anna sighed mournfully. “I’d invite him to join the knitting group, but there isn’t one anymore.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” Fern said. “Reuben and I are going to do everything we can to get the knitting group back together.”

  “I can’t wait to see what you’ve got in mind,” Reuben said. Fern was doubly impressed. To spare Anna’s feelings, he kept any hint of sarcasm out of his tone.

  Fern pursed her lips to keep from laughing at the suspicious yet powerless expression on his face. She wasn’t a cook, but when she was finished with him, he’d eat crow, humble pie, and several of his own words. She didn’t intend to put him down, humiliate or embarrass him, but this was for his own good and he knew it. He’d gone too far with the knitting group, and he’d fix it.

  Like it or not.

  Chapter Ten

  Reuben trudged several feet behind Fern as she glided over the flagstones that led to Sadie Yoder’s front door. It was his own fault that he’d been reduced to begging forgiveness. He’d gotten himself into this and he’d take his medicine like a man, but he still approached Sadie’s door like a scholar on the first day of school.

  If it hadn’t been for Fern, he didn’t think he would have been able to do this. She felt confident that the knitting group would forgive him freely and welcome him into their circle of friends in Bonduel. She assured him that he would be able to live a very long time in Bonduel without shame attached to his name.

  And she’d come up with a pretty gute plan—if it worked.

  What would he do without Fern?

  She got halfway up the steps before turning to give Reuben a sympathetic look. “Don’t look so forlorn. It’s going to be okay.”

  “She’ll slam the door in my face, and I’ll be forced to move to Montana.”

  Fern smirked. “I hear it’s very pretty there, and they have famous potatoes.”

  He joined her on the porch. “That’s Idaho. Montana is Big Sky Country.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Dawdi’s license plate game. You can learn a lot when you pay attention.”

  Reuben stamped his feet on the porch as if removing snow from his boots, even though there wasn’t any snow and he wasn’t wearing boots.

  Fern nudged his arm with her shoulder. “Sadie is a wonderful-nice girl.”

  “I’m sure she is. Her brother Tyler is married to my cousin Beth.”

  Fern puckered her lips and looked sufficiently impressed. “I didn’t know you knew each other.”

  “We don’t really. Our family went to the wedding, but I don’t even remember Sadie being there—but don’t tell her I said that. I’m hanging by a thread with her already.”

  “I don’t think she remembers you either. She’s never mentioned it.”

  “Of course she remembers me.” He spread his arms wide. “Who could forget this face?”

  Fern giggled. “We all try very hard to forget, but it’s like a nightmare that keeps coming back.”

  He let his mouth fall open. “You’re just saying that because you think my head is too big, but I know what you really think of me.”

  She pumped her eyebrows up and down. “Do you?”

  Before he could prepare himself, Fern knocked on the door—a determined, forceful knock that said, “Reuben is here, and you will give him a chance to explain himself.”

  At least that’s what it said to him. Sadie might think it sounded like a pathetic Sugarcreekian standing at the door hoping for a crumb of kindness.

  A short, plump woman with Sadie’s eyes and good humor in her face opened the door. She took one look at Reuben and wrinkled up like a prune. The knitting group had only been disbanded this morning, but Sadie had obviously told her mater everything. Nobody was going to be happy to see Reuben at her door.

  “Fern and Reuben,” she said, saying Reuben’s name like he was the smashed half of a dill pickle sandwich. “Vie geht? Have you come to see Sadie?
”

  “Jah, if we could,” Fern said, sensing that Reuben couldn’t get his mouth to work properly yet.

  “Cum reu, then,” she said. She left them on the landing, lifted her skirts, and trudged down the stairs of their split-level house. Reuben smelled something savory cooking in the kitchen upstairs and heard faint voices floating up from downstairs. Where did they hold gmay when it was their turn? The levels would make it impossible to spread out, unless they spread all the way down the stairs.

  Sadie’s mater came up the stairs and kept going up into a room behind the living room that was probably the kitchen. “She’ll be right up.”

  Fern smiled as if the excitement was just too much to contain. Reuben twitched his lips and shook his head in exasperation, which only made her smile wider.

  With a pinched face and short steps, Sadie strolled up the stairs with her hand wrapped around her other wrist, studying Reuben’s face while trying to seem as if she wasn’t looking at anything in particular. “Hello, Fern,” she said.

  Oh, sis yuscht. She wouldn’t even acknowledge him. He didn’t know why he’d hoped for anything different. He’d been very rude. “Sadie, I came to apologize for how I acted this morning. I was rude and mean and I hurt your feelings, and I’m sorry.”

  Sadie shrugged and stared at a spot just above Fern’s ankle. “You didn’t hurt my feelings.”

  Fern reached out and wrapped her fingers around Sadie’s arm. “It’s okay, Sadie. Reuben knows he was horrible.”

  “Really horrible,” Sadie said, shifting from one foot to the other.

  Reuben nodded. “Really horrible, and I am very sorry. There is no excuse for what I did or said. It’s just that I left Sugarcreek because I was so ashamed about Linda Sue. I was afraid that if any of you found out about it, you’d make fun of me or feel sorry for me, and I’d be humiliated all over again.”

  “What made you think we’d make fun of you?” Sadie said. “We’re not mean like that.”

  “I know that now, and that’s why I’m sorry about what I said. I know I made you very upset, and you had every right to be.” When she didn’t respond, he knew he’d have to eat the whole piece of humble pie, even if he gagged on it. “I am a terrible person, unworthy to even talk to people like you and Esther.”