Huckleberry Christmas Read online

  Tyler scooped Toby into his arms, and Toby wasted no time in snuggling against Tyler’s shoulder.

  “I’m sorry I got mad.” Beth studied Tyler’s solemn expression. She shouldn’t have accused him so harshly. “I’m really, really sorry.”

  “I’m not mad.”

  “I hurt your feelings.”

  “Nae.”

  “But you look so serious,” Beth insisted.

  “So I’ve been told.”

  Mammi finally shut the door and gave Tyler’s arm a pat. “Tyler is not inclined to smile, but a finer man you’ll never meet.”

  Not inclined to smile? Mammi must be trying to make her feel better. If Tyler hadn’t been attacked by a crazed mother, he’d be inclined to smile. Beth felt the need to wipe that serious look off his face. Surely he would smile if he knew she bore him no ill will. “I panicked when I couldn’t find Toby. When I glanced out the window and saw you with him, I guess I wasn’t thinking straight.”

  “It’s okay. I would have been frantic if I had lost my son.” He played with Toby’s silky soft fingers. “He must have an angel watching over him. Dobbin stopped just in time, praise the Lord.”

  “Praise the Lord, indeed,” Mammi said. “I have to get used to having a little one again. I forgot to shut the door on my way in from the garden.” Mammi’s eyes twinkled as her gaze darted between Beth and Tyler. “I think I’ll go see what Felty is up to.” She practically skipped down the hall without another word.

  Toby reached for the floor. Tyler set him down. A grin played at his lips as he watched Toby toddle to the rug and pat Mammi’s dog, Sparky. Beth tilted her head and gazed at Tyler. He might be of a solemn disposition, but he seemed inclined to smile at Toby.

  Tyler’s piercing look caught her attention. “He has your eyes,” he said.

  Beth wanted to smack herself as she felt a blush warm her face. She should have passed the shy schoolgirl stage years ago. “Denki. Most people tell me he looks like his father.”

  “There’s a lot of you in him too.”

  His gaze intensified and made Beth squirm a little. “He has my temper,” she said.

  The hint of a smile traveled across his face before he cleared his throat and snapped out of whatever thought had distracted him. “Are you in town for a visit?”

  Beth recited her carefully rehearsed explanation. “We’re staying with Mammi and Dawdi until we can find a place of our own in Bonduel.”

  “I’ll keep my eye out. There was a nice little cottage north on one-seventeen, but it sold three weeks ago.”

  “Out by the Millers’ farm?”

  Tyler nodded. “You remember that old barn?”

  “Jah. Mamm said it burned down six months ago.”

  “A blessing in disguise. If the fire hadn’t taken it, it might have toppled in a wind storm and hurt somebody.”

  Beth laughed at the memory of that old barn, so rickety that it creaked in a breeze and so charming that die youngie gathered there almost every week. “Toby could have given it a good shove and knocked it down. We had some fun gatherings there.” Her mind wandered back to the days of volleyball and rumschpringe and independence—blissfully happy years before her marriage. “Amos complained that I loved that rope swing more than I loved . . .” She lowered her eyes before she finished her sentence. She didn’t want to think of Amos today.

  Deep lines of concern dug themselves into Tyler’s face. “I was sorry to hear about your husband’s car accident.”

  “We are comforted that he is with God.” Another carefully rehearsed response.

  “With a new baby, you must have been devastated. How long has it been?”

  “Over a year, last June. Toby was not six months old.”

  The deep compassion in his eyes surprised her. “It must be hard to be left all alone like that with a baby to care for. I’m sure it was a great comfort to have Amos’s family share the burden of your grief.”

  “Jah” was all Beth could muster. She had stayed in that oppressive house for months, aching to return to Bonduel, knowing she would be callous indeed to up and leave the family so soon after Amos’s death. Amos’s mamm, Treva, had been battling cancer when Amos passed away. No matter how Beth had yearned to be away from the Hostetlers, she couldn’t have abandoned Treva, as sick as she had been.

  Tyler misinterpreted the pain that surely must have shown on Beth’s face. He radiated genuine sympathy. “You must miss him very much.”

  I don’t deserve your kindness, Tyler. I was overjoyed to have escaped Nappanee, Indiana, and the Hostetlers.

  Noncommittal answers were almost second nature to her now. “He is with God now. I rejoice in that.”

  In more ways than one.

  My heart is blacker than the bottom of the deepest well.

  An awkward silence followed. Beth refused to say more about Amos than necessary, and it appeared that Tyler had run out of words of consolation. Either that or he didn’t want to stir up Beth’s painful memories unnecessarily. Well, she had plenty of bad memories but probably not the kind Tyler imagined.

  He studied her face for several seconds before clearing his throat. “Anna said you made cookies.”

  “Oh . . . yes.” She retrieved the plate from the counter and held it out to him. “I’m not that good of a cook, but they do have chocolate chips in them. Chocolate makes everything taste better.”

  Toby saw the plate of goodies and skipped to Beth’s side. Beth sat down and handed him a cookie. Tyler sat next to Beth at the table and lifted Toby onto his lap.

  “Be careful,” Beth said. “Toby likes to take a bite, spit it into his hand, examine it, and then put it back in his mouth. He ends up quite messy.”

  Tyler scooted Toby to a more secure position onto his lap. “I’d consider it an honor to be smeared with cookie goo. Babies don’t grant their affection to just anybody.”

  Beth couldn’t seem to pull her gaze from the sight of Toby cradled safely in Tyler’s arms, arms that clearly did heavy work. A man didn’t get muscles like those by sitting around and yelling at his wife all day.

  The memory felt as if someone had poked her, compelling her to rise from her chair and giving her a reason to pull herself from Tyler’s gaze. “Would you like some milk?” She quickly collected herself and shot him a teasing grin. “You might have to soak them for a few minutes. My cookies always turn out dry. Not on purpose of course.”

  Tyler snatched one from the plate and took a hearty bite. “These are delicious. Just the way I like them.”

  Beth tried not to take too much satisfaction in what he said. He was only trying to be polite. She poured milk into two cups and set both on the table. “One for Toby and one for you. Just in case.”

  Tyler helped Toby drink his milk, which dribbled down his chin and the front of his shirt and dripped onto Tyler’s trousers. Tyler didn’t even flinch.

  As they ate, Beth tried her best to wipe Toby’s face after every bite of cookie so Tyler’s shirt wouldn’t be a complete mess. He actually grinned when Toby waved his hands back and forth and bits of soggy cookie ended up in Tyler’s shiny black-brown hair.

  “Oh, Toby,” Beth said. “Look what you’ve done.”

  A rag proved insufficient to clean up Toby’s gloppy hands, so Beth carted him to the sink. Once Beth washed Toby’s hands under the running water, she set him down to play with Sparky. “Now,” she said, glancing at Tyler and dampening a dishtowel, “let’s see what we can do about your hair.”

  Tyler propped his elbow on the table and rested his chin in his hand. “I kind of like it. Birds can land on my head and eat.”

  Beth giggled. Standing behind him, she used the towel to pluck Toby’s mess from Tyler’s hair. This close, she could catch his manly scent. He smelled of freshly mowed hay at autumn time. The distracting aroma took her to a grassy meadow, where she pictured herself picking wildflowers while she strolled hand-in-hand with Tyler Yoder. She jerked her fingers from his hair and unwittingly pulled out four
strands by the roots.

  With his chin still resting on his hand, he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “It must be in there like glue.”

  “Sorry. I got carried away. It won’t happen again.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  She finished his hair, took the dishtowel to the sink, and busied herself rinsing it out so she could gather her unruly wits. She’d promised herself that she would never, ever consider another boy again for any reason. That promise was always fresh in her mind. To be sure, Tyler smelled wonderful, but no amount of tempting fragrance should weaken her resolve.

  I must be coming down with something.

  Tyler looked slightly flushed as he stood, donned his hat, and grabbed another cookie. “I don’t think Aden is going to show up, and Dat is waiting for help at the dairy. Will I see you at gmay on Sunday?”

  “Lord willing.”

  He strode across the room to where Toby played with three balls. Tyler squatted to be eye level with him and laid a light kiss on his cheek. “Good-bye, Toby. Stay out of the road.”

  Toby waved and called forth a smile from Tyler. “Bye-bye.”

  Beth pursed her lips to keep from smiling as Tyler glided out the door.

  He had eaten three cookies and hadn’t taken one swig of milk.

  She took a deep breath and reminded herself of her promise. She didn’t want a man in her life ever again. She felt perfectly happy being alone, answering to no one but God.

  Beth didn’t pay any particular attention to what went on out the window as Tyler jumped into his open-air buggy and drove away. He had a beautiful horse. And very nice posture. And an able hand at the reins.

  She barely noticed his departure or her heart drumming a cadence she hadn’t heard for a very long time.

  Chapter Three

  Beth glanced out the window and groaned softly. She shouldn’t have gone to church on Sunday. The vultures were already circling.

  She wiped the ketchup from Toby’s face and hands before lifting him out of the high chair to let him run free around the great room. Running free was Toby’s favorite activity.

  Beth’s too.

  Getting down on her hands and knees, Beth picked up the remnants of Toby’s breakfast. Toby liked to feed himself, but when he had his fill, he hurled his leftovers off the tray. The floor never stayed clean.

  Mammi came from outside with her egg basket. Her eyes twinkled, but her lips parted in an expression of befuddlement. “Oh, dear, Beth. You have a visitor.”

  Beth stood and threw away the last of Toby’s toast. “I saw.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  Beth huffed in exasperation and stifled a sorry grin. “I don’t want to hurt his feelings, Mammi, but he’s old enough to be my dat.”

  Mammi slumped her shoulders. “He brought flowers.”

  A pathetic giggle burst from Beth’s lips. “I wish men wouldn’t feel the need to kill a perfectly good plant for me.”

  Mammi propped her hands on her hips. “These eager suitors need to make way for your true match. You’ll never get a chance to fall in love when all these other men make pests of themselves.”

  “I can take care of myself. I don’t want a husband.” The very thought dampened her spirits. In Nappanee, unwanted suitors had swooped in after the one-year anniversary of Amos’s death. She had refused three men before July had come and gone.

  “Well, I know you don’t want Alvin Hoover. I’ll march right out there and tell him to go home.”

  “Nae, Mammi. I’ll talk to him.”

  “Do you think a knitted potholder would make him feel better?”

  “Jah, everybody loves your potholders.”

  Mammi peeked out the window. “A sweater might be better. As pretty as you are, you’re bound to break his heart.”

  Beth dried her hands and kissed Mammi on the cheek. “I’m as plain as the nose on your face. The men in Bonduel have poor eyesight.”

  Mammi giggled. “They can see well enough.”

  “Alvin Hoover wants a housekeeper more than he wants a wife.”

  Mammi pulled a bright yellow potholder from her closet. “I think the poor man doesn’t want just any wife. He’s hoping for a pretty one.”

  Beth tied her bonnet under her chin. “I’m as plain as an unvarnished fence post.”

  Mammi would not be persuaded. She winked and handed Beth the potholder. “Alvin Hoover must be partial to fence posts.”

  Beth arched an eyebrow in amusement and stepped outside.

  Broad and firmly built, Alvin Hoover didn’t stand quite as tall as Beth, but he must have considered himself tall enough to have a chance with her. Strands of gray hair peppered his chestnut-brown beard, and a decidedly deep furrow set directly between his eyebrows.

  He held his bouquet of flowers at his side with the blooms pointed toward the ground as if he were planning on sweeping the dirt with them. He chatted cheerfully with Dawdi about the weather, like old men always did.

  Beth’s dat would be indignant if he could hear her thoughts. Forty-five isn’t old. Alvin Hoover is in his best years, he would say. Dat was forty-eight. He considered anyone under sixty to be in the prime of his life.

  Alvin squared his shoulders when he caught sight of Beth. He lifted the bouquet directly in front of him as if he were posing for a picture. “Well, hello, Beth.”

  Dawdi placed a hand on Alvin’s shoulder. “Gute to talk to you, Alvin. Let me know when you slaughter that hog, and I’ll ready the smokehouse.”

  Dawdi turned his back on Alvin and walked toward Beth. When Dawdi came close, he stopped and took her hand. “Just so’s you know,” he whispered, “this isn’t the one your mammi wants.”

  Beth smiled. Dawdi always seemed to know precisely what he was talking about, even if no one else did.

  Alvin stepped forward and handed Beth the flowers, a mixture of black-eyed Susans and daisies that he’d probably gathered from his pasture this morning.

  “Denki, Alvin. These are very pretty.”

  “I saw them and thought of you,” he said. “Because you’re cheery like a garden of yellow pansies.”

  Beth sorely needed a drink of water. Her mouth tasted as dry as a pile of dead leaves. She had met Alvin on Sunday. Would he have the nerve to propose to her today? And how would she ever deflate his hopes without sounding callous or ungrateful?

  Or completely and utterly uninterested.

  “Benji and Alvin Junior picked them for you,” Alvin added.

  Beth cringed. Alvin Junior was nineteen years old, four years younger than Beth. And then there were Alvin’s other six children to consider, children in need of a cook and housekeeper.

  Beth found the thought unbearable—not the thought of children, but the thought of being sought after, not because Alvin loved her or cared for her, but because he needed a woman, preferably young and strong, who wouldn’t mind working herself to death. Since she’d been married before, Alvin must have believed she was either less picky or more desperate than most girls her age.

  She felt more than a little awkward as Alvin fell silent and stared at her. She cleared her throat and handed him the potholder. “My mammi wanted you to have this.”

  He looked at the potholder as if he had no idea what to do with it. “Denki,” he said, stuffing it into his pocket and strolling toward the house. He inclined his head and shrugged his arm as a hint that she should follow him. She did, reluctantly. “My wife’s been gone three years, you know.”

  Yes, she knew. In five days, this was Alvin’s third visit, and he had mentioned his late wife no less than ten times. “Yes. I’m very sorry for your loss. Mammi tells me she was a wonderful-gute cook.”

  “Her butterscotch pies were always the first to sell at auction.”

  “I am a very bad cook. Amos always used to tell me so.”

  “Thanksgiving was my favorite holiday because of her chestnut apple stuffing. Delicious.”

  If she didn’t poke fun at herself, s
he’d probably burst into tears of frustration. “I made stuffing from a box once, but it didn’t come with chestnuts.”

  Alvin halted and rested his hand awkwardly on the porch railing. “Beth, your lot in life cannot be easy. You have a son to care for and no way to support yourself.”

  Beth held her breath. She hated having to refuse a marriage proposal so early in the morning. It would put a damper on her whole day, but she could see no way around it.

  How had Tyler Yoder known how badly she needed an interruption at this very moment? He rode up the lane on his dapple-gray horse like a hero from a storybook come to rescue the fair maiden.

  “Tyler,” she called, waving and jogging toward his horse as if he were her best friend in the world.

  Tyler, ever so serious, nodded before dismounting. “How are you? Is Toby well?”

  “Jah. He is running around inside with Mammi.”

  “Gute,” Tyler said, leading his horse to the barn.

  Beth stood at the edge of the grass, pretending to be very interested in Tyler’s trek to the barn. If she could avoid Alvin for a few more minutes, Tyler’s presence would prevent him from proposing. She bit her bottom lip. Maybe she should go to Alvin right now and get it over with. Why prolong the suspense?

  Because she was a coward, that’s why. Right now, she didn’t have the guts to deal with Alvin’s reaction. She wanted to give herself some time to prepare an appropriate refusal so she didn’t hurt Alvin’s feelings any more than she had to. He had already lost his dear wife.

  Tyler emerged from the barn, and Beth walked with him to the porch. She still clutched the flowers in her hand as if she were holding a flashlight, not quite sure what to do with them.

  “I came to help Aden,” Tyler said, “if he shows up. He says I got the day wrong last time, but I think he’s the one who’s mixed up.” Tyler stopped as if he’d run into a wall. “Hello, Alvin. Wie gehts?”

  Alvin practically tripped over his feet in an effort to shake Tyler’s hand. “I’m fine, fine.” His eyes darted between Beth and Tyler, and his smile melted like butter in a frying pan. “You paying a call?”