Huckleberry Hill (2 page)

Chapter Three

Lia sank to the floor and surveyed the pieces of what used to be a bottle. Her first day at Helmuths’ and she had already burned the pancakes, snagged a hole in her stockings, and broken an innocent canning jar that had probably never done harm to anyone in its entire life.

As she reached out to retrieve the biggest piece, her hand grazed a shard protruding from the broken base of the jar. She gasped in pain and watched as droplets of blood appeared in a nice straight line across her palm.

One more mishap like this and she wouldn’t blame the Helmuths if they sent her packing. But, oh, how she wanted things to work out here on Huckleberry Hill! This was the first time in her life she’d left home. It was bound to be an exciting adventure, even though her sister, Rachel, kept reminding her that she was only going to tiny Bonduel from just-as-tiny Wautoma to work for “two boring old people.”

Still, Lia had been almost giddy with excitement. Back home she had so many people depending on her for their happiness. Some days the weight of her responsibility felt like it would suffocate her right quick. Huckleberry Hill seemed like a place where she could take a deep breath.

She heard footsteps on the stair and quickly brushed her bleeding hand across her apron. Not even enough blood to worry about, and she didn’t want Anna to fuss about it.

Lia looked up, expecting to see Anna, who could take a set of stairs like a twenty-year-old. Instead she saw an exceptionally tall young man. She estimated he stood taller than she by a good five inches—didn’t see that every day. But his height wasn’t what made her look twice. His lips curled into a half smile, revealing a charming dimple on his left cheek. His eyes, so intensely blue they almost glowed in the dim light of the cellar, studied her face with a mixture of surprise and annoyance. Annoyed or not, he looked unnervingly handsome.

“Oh my,” she said out loud before clapping her good hand over her mouth.

He didn’t seem to notice that she’d made a fool of herself. “I’ll get the broom,” he said.

Stuffing a handful of cookies into his pocket, he bounded back up the stairs. He had to stoop to avoid hitting his head. Lia hadn’t even had to do that.

A thrill of pleasure ran down Lia’s spine before she squared her shoulders and returned to her task of picking up broken glass. Tall didn’t make a difference. Years ago she’d quit sizing up any man as a potential suitor. Dat reminded her often that no man wanted a tall, homely wife with a scarred hand—and she knew he spoke the truth. Lia smiled to herself. What man striving for humility wanted his wife towering over people like the Statue of Liberty?

The young man returned as quickly as he had left with a broom and dustpan in one hand and a small white box in the other. His eyes still held that glint of annoyance, but he smiled pleasantly and propped the broom against the wall.

It shouldn’t be allowed in the Ordnung to be that handsome. His good looks would be thoroughly distracting at church.

Still kneeling, Lia slipped her right hand into her apron pocket. She’d hidden her hand so often, she almost didn’t realize she was doing it.

The young man squatted beside her and held out the box. “I brought a little first aid.”

Blast!
He’d seen the hand. She balled her fist and buried it deeper in her pocket. “Oh. No need. It’s no worse than a paper cut.”

He opened the box and rummaged through the contents. “Paper cuts are nasty. I got one on my toe once and couldn’t walk for three days.”

Lia felt the corners of her mouth curl up. “How did you get a paper cut on your toe?”

“I tried to read a book with my feet.”

She couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her lips. “Maybe you should wear stockings next time.”

The dimple became more pronounced. “I never thought of that.” He stared into her eyes for a moment before clearing his throat. Then he seemed to recollect his annoyance. “I should tend to that cut.”

Lia kept it safely inside her pocket. “No need.”

He raised an eyebrow and held out his hand. “Cum, let me see.”

She couldn’t kneel there forever, her hand stubbornly balled in her pocket, without looking foolish. Again. Embarrassed, she slowly pulled her hand from her apron and held it open for him to see.

If the burn scars that covered the back of her hand repulsed him, his expression remained neutral. He took her fingers in his and studied the palm lightly smeared with blood. After shuffling through the box, he dabbed the cut with an antiseptic wipe. “Does that hurt?”

“A little.”

“A bandage all the way around will at least keep it from hurting worse when you use it. What do you think?”

“Um,
jah
, that would be a gute idea.”

He quickly fashioned a dressing from a sterile pad and some stretchy tape. She tried not to blush as his fingers brushed across her bumpy scars. He’d seen every hideous mark, and she found herself wishing Anna had been the one to doctor her cut.

“Good as new,” he said, closing the first aid box and standing up. “Well, as good as I can do. You can rewrap it later when I’m not looking.” He said it with a raised eyebrow, and Lia cracked a smile. She liked a man who could laugh at himself.

He held out his hand and pulled her to her feet. Lia recognized the look of surprise that popped onto his face when she stood up, the same reaction most people had when they saw her towering height. But this was one of those rare instances when she didn’t have to look down on the person staring at her. She rather liked looking up.

“Oh,
sis yuscht
!” he exclaimed, his eyes wide. “You are tall.”

Why did his words feel like an icy hand slapping her in the face? She’d seen the same reaction so many times it should have made her laugh. But this time it didn’t amuse her. It hurt in the corner of her heart that she usually kept tucked away.

His annoyance seemed to increase, and he backed away and plopped himself on a step. “Mammi thought of everything.”

She had no idea what he was babbling about, only that a spot deep inside her ached, as if she had the wind knocked out of her. At home when people commented on her height, Lia’s dat would chuckle and say, “Jah, Lia is our beanpole. But my other daughter, Rachel, is a wisp of a thing with golden hair. Like her mamm.” Then he would praise Rachel’s virtues so people would know that he had at least one daughter of whom he need not be ashamed.

Not of a disposition to wallow in self-pity, Lia took a deep breath and huffed the irritation out of her lungs with the air. She threw away the shards of glass still in her hand and reached for the broom.

The young man leaped to his feet as if the step suddenly got hot. “Please, let me do it. You should nurse that hand for a few days.”

“No need. I am gute at sweeping. Even with a handicap.” Lia turned from him and swept insistently while the young man stared at her—probably puzzling at how such a tall girl could reach the ground with a broom. As he watched, he squeezed his eyebrows together as if working out a very difficult arithmetic problem in his head.

She almost asked him if there wasn’t somewhere he’d rather be, when he said, “I don’t mean to hurt your feelings, but I’m not looking for a wife.”

Surprise tied Lia’s tongue into a knot. She stopped sweeping altogether to study the young man’s face. Surely he was teasing or was perhaps just painfully awkward around girls. But this young man didn’t seem the awkward type. With growing confusion, Lia concluded that he was completely serious. The sincerity that washed over his handsome features smacked her funny bone, and she couldn’t help it. She burst into laughter.

His frown deepened and his eyebrows moved so close together they were almost touching.

She couldn’t keep her amusement in check. “Did you think I was about to ask you to marry me?”

He took a step closer. “
Nae
, what I mean is—”

“I still try to let the boy do the asking. I am not quite that desperate yet.” Lia punctuated the “yet” with a raised eyebrow and renewed vigor in her sweeping.

“I said nothing like that,” the young man protested, taking two steps closer and holding out his hands in surrender.

“Have you judged that my sweeping skills are lacking and decided I would make an unsuitable wife?” Smiling to herself, Lia swept around the coal bin nowhere near where the glass had shattered.

His voice filled with compassion, even as the annoyance etched itself on every line of his face. “I’m sorry. Now I’ve embarrassed you. I don’t know what my mammi has told you or what your expectations are, but this is what I tell all the girls. I am not looking for a wife. It is best not to get your hopes up.”

Lia had to clench her teeth together to keep her jaw from falling to the floor. Was she really having this conversation with a complete stranger in Anna Helmuth’s basement? “You think I want to marry you?”

“And I’m not interested.”

Absurdity always made Lia laugh. Her amusement skipped out in deep, throaty spasms. “Is Anna your grandmother?”

He nodded.

“I don’t know what your mammi told you, but I never even knew you existed until five minutes ago. Are you so arrogant as to assume that every girl you meet wants you for a husband?”

She must have caught him off guard with her bluntness. His face bloomed into a grin. “According to my
mamm
and
dat
, every girl would choose me.”

“I wouldn’t.”

He showed all his teeth as his smile widened. “It is nice to meet a girl with a bit of gute sense.” He fingered the stubble on his chin. “So this is Mammi’s scheme, not yours?”

“I don’t know what scheme you are talking about.”

“The scheme to marry me off.” The young man held the dustpan as she swept the last bits of glass into it. “Everyone thinks I’m dawdling.”

“It is none of my concern whether you want to dawdle or not.”

He dumped the dirt and glass into the trash. “Gute. We might be seeing a lot of each other over the summer. I won’t have to pretend to be interested, and you won’t have to try to be agreeable.”

She took the dustpan from him with a mischievous grin. “I’m relieved. I dislike being agreeable. I’d much rather make myself unpleasant.”

“This works out well for both of us, then.”

“It wonders me what you will tell your mammi.”

He rubbed his hand across the back of his neck as if he had a sudden headache. “That she has very gute taste in young women.”

“You do not have to lie to your mammi for my sake.”

“I would never lie to my mammi.” He took a small shovel from a hook on the wall and buried it into the pile of coal. “I’ll be right up with a bucket of coal in case Mammi needs it.”

He turned his back on her, and Lia was left scratching her head at the strange young man who declared his intentions, or lack thereof, before she even knew his name. She marched up the stairs and started chuckling all over again. Pulling her shoulders back, Lia stood up straight so the young man would see she didn’t have to stoop to avoid the ceiling. She wasn’t as tall as some people.

Anna stood at the top of the stairs with a wide grin and a plate of ginger snaps. “Have a cookie.”

Smiling, Lia chose a cookie from the plate and took great care putting it into her mouth. She’d made the mistake earlier of taking a hearty bite, and she’d almost cracked a tooth.

“How did it go with Moses?”

“Who? Oh, uh, the young man downstairs?”

Anna lifted her eyebrows in indignation. “He didn’t even introduce himself? No wonder he doesn’t have a wife.” She deposited her plate on the table, propped her hands on her hips, and called down the stairs. “Moses, will you come up here?” She spoke it sweetly enough, but Lia suspected Anna’s tone was meant to lure Moses upstairs for a scolding.

Moses appeared carrying a bucket of coal, unprepared for an attack. Coal dust tinted his fingers black. “I brought more coal.”

“Moses Zimmerman,” Anna said, “you did not even introduce yourself to our guest. Where are your manners?”

Moses did not miss a beat. “We got to know each other quite well. I proposed marriage, and she refused me. I think that’s enough for one day.”

Chapter Four

Moses folded his arms across his chest and chuckled. Mammi’s pretty friend didn’t even flinch, but he caught the sparkle of mischief in her eyes along with a hint of scolding for trying to deflate Mammi’s hopes.

Mammi’s expression was worth a whole gallon of whipping cream. Her eyes popped wide like shutters as she groaned in exasperation and shook her finger at him. “What a tease you are, Moses Zimmerman. I have better things to do than put up with your nonsense.” She picked up her plate. “Have another cookie.”

He already had three knocking around in the bottom of his pocket. “No,
denki
, Mammi. I am full.”

“Don’t be shy. Have another cookie. I know how much you like them.”

“May I have another too?” the girl said.

Moses stifled a grin. Anyone who watched out for Mammi’s feelings had his approval.

Mammi beamed in satisfaction and held out the plate. “Moses, if you are not careful, Lia will eat your share.”

Moses grabbed a cookie. “Lia. Nice to finally learn her name. Mammi, why didn’t you introduce us? Where are your manners?”

Mammi patted Moses on the shoulder. “What a tease you are.”

“I will thin the peaches and muck out the barn this morning,” Moses said, “and see what else Dawdi needs me to do.”

Mammi nodded. “Lia, will you help Moses thin peaches? There is plenty of trees for both of you.”

“Of course,” Lia said. “I would be happy to do anything that needs doing.”

Mammi might have just heard the news of twenty new grandchildren for as happy as this made her. She bustled to the front closet and pulled out two long pieces of knitted yarn. “Early June is still a bit chilly. I made a scarf for each of you.”

It wasn’t all that chilly today, but Mammi never felt so happy as when people wore her creations.

She hung a chocolate brown scarf over Lia’s shoulder and handed Moses a bright red one. Lia ran her hands over the length of scarf that looked like a furry dog after a bath.

“I used a new kind of yarn,” Mammi said. “Soft, isn’t it?”

Lia nodded and tossed the scarf around her neck with a graceful sweep of her hand that Moses found surprisingly charming. He wasn’t trying to pay particular attention to Lia but found himself intensely aware of every move she made, every tilt of her head or curl of her lips. Tightly snuggled up against her chin, the color of the scarf accented the brown of her intelligent eyes, which were framed by impossibly long lashes.

The irritation bubbled inside him like a pot of oatmeal left too long on the stove. He refused to let himself be taken in by something as superficial as beauty. Attractive meant nothing to him. Pretty meant nothing. Even tall and graceful meant nothing. Mammi had outdone herself, but he refused to let Mammi pick a wife for him. He stood determined to wait for Barbara, to prove the strength of his commitment.

Moses studied the cherry red scarf in his hand. He already owned three other scarves and two pairs of mittens made by Mammi, not to mention an assorted collection of beanies and pot holders. Knitting was more of a calling than a hobby for Mammi.

“There is a ladder and gloves in the toolshed,” Mammi said.

Moses secured the bright scarf around his neck. At least any deer hunters who happened by wouldn’t mistakenly shoot him. He could be seen in the better part of three counties.

The early June air was pleasantly warm, especially with a hint of sun peeking through the clouds. Newly planted red petunias huddled at the foot of Mammi’s front porch. A fine day to be outside. When they were out of sight of the house, Moses loosened his scarf and let it hang around his neck.

Trying his best to suppress his fascination with Mammi’s chosen bride, Moses led the way to the small grove of peach trees behind the house. Moses had pruned in March but hadn’t yet had time to clear away the dead limbs from beneath the trees. He had left the ladder in the shed, figuring they both were tall enough to reach the fruit of the stubby trees without one.

Moses didn’t want Lia to suspect that she had an unnerving effect on him, so he made only brief eye contact when he spoke. “I’ll show you how to thin on this first tree.”

Lia took off the coral pair of mittens, also knitted by Mammi, that Mammi had insisted she slip on before leaving the house. They matched the blush of her creamy cheeks. Moses quickly looked away. His reaction to a girl he’d only just met bordered on ridiculous. He chastised himself for letting superficial beauty sway him. His loyalty was squarely fixed on Barbara.

Lia propped her hands on her hips and tilted her head as if trying to get a better look at him. “Are you annoyed with me specifically or just a generally irritable person?”

Moses tried to swallow his surprise. She might have been pretty, but he wouldn’t want to marry a woman so blunt. He sighed in amusement before a troubling thought pulled him up short. Most women thought men should read their minds. That guessing game kept many a husband tiptoeing on eggshells. When Moses really thought about it, he couldn’t think of anything more attractive than the plain, unsugarcoated truth.

“There it is again,” she said. Her lips curled slightly, almost as if she were teasing him.

“What?”

“That look my dat gets when our horse throws a shoe for the third time in a week. Exactly what bee do you have in your bonnet?”

Moses chuckled in spite of himself. “I ain’t never worn a bonnet in my life.”

“So you’re annoyed with me specifically.”

He couldn’t very well be equally blunt. “On the contrary, I am glad for your help. You are the only girl I know who can help me thin peaches without a ladder.”

That wasn’t the answer she wanted. Her face immediately clouded over, and she cast her eyes to the dirt. “I’m aware of how tall I am. You don’t have to keep rubbing it in.”

Moses raised his arms as if he were guiding a semi truck into his loading dock. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. You took that as an insult?”

She forced her lips into an unconvincing smile. “Not on purpose. I know you didn’t mean it on purpose.”

“Since when has being tall been something to be ashamed of?”

Her gaze pierced through his skull. That’s when he noticed the specks of gold in her chocolate brown eyes.

“It doesn’t bother you that I’m tall?”

“Bother me?” He took off his hat and stepped so he stood directly in front of her. He placed his hand flat on the top of his head and then moved it down to Lia’s head. Up to the crown of his head again and back to hers. “Me. You,” he said as he moved his hand up and down. “Me.” Hand up. “You.” Hand down.

Lia surrendered a grin at his dramatics.

“Haven’t you noticed that I’m taller?” he said.

Lia sighed in resignation, but she didn’t look unhappy anymore. “You’re not a girl. Nobody likes a tall girl. I’m almost six feet.”

“They tease you?”

“They disregard me.”

“Wouldn’t it be more fitting to say that they overlook you? Or better yet, you overlook them.” He raised his hand to the level of her eyes and drew an invisible line. “You know, over-look.”

Lia groaned in mock pain. “I truly thought I’d heard all the tall jokes.”

“So you don’t like being tall? Not even when you can reach things on high shelves?”

“Especially not then. It seems like it’s the only thing I’m good for—reaching bottles—because Mamm can’t be bothered to pull out the step stool.”

“I love being tall.”

“You’re not a girl.”

Moses’s voice rose with his enthusiasm. “But I love tall girls.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t mean love—”

“I know. You don’t want to marry me.”

“I mean, I get tired of looking at scalps all day. I’ve seen dandruff that would make your toes curl in disgust.”

“And shiny bald heads.”

“Folks get sore necks looking up at me for a simple conversation, but I can talk to you without straining my neck or yours. You are one of the few people who doesn’t have an unflattering view up my nostrils.”

Lia cracked a smile before pressing her lips into a tight line. “But most people don’t consider my height a blessing.”

“You let other people determine your happiness?”

She furrowed her brow. “Not usually. I’ve been told so often that I am too tall. . . .” She studied his face. “I suppose I have always believed that my height is an affliction, just as sure as I know the sun will rise every morning. Dat says I am naturally prideful because I tower over other girls.”

“As if you had any control over that! God made you the way you are. ‘I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content.’”

Lia sprouted an exasperated half smile. “My
fater
quotes that scripture to me often when he admonishes me to be content that I will never marry.”

At that moment, Moses wished Lia’s fater were standing next to him so he could chastise her dat for saying such an unkind thing to his daughter. But he let his indignation pass like a summer thunderstorm and raised his eyebrows mischievously. “The only thing that will keep you from marrying is that you reject perfectly good marriage proposals.”

Her face popped into a full smile. She had brilliantly white teeth. “You didn’t propose.”

“Of course not. You said you wouldn’t have me.”

“I won’t marry someone arrogant enough to assume I want him to propose.”

“I can’t help being arrogant. Who wouldn’t be proud to be this tall?” He looked at the peach trees and propped his hands on his hips. “I’ll fetch the ladder if you want to pretend you need it. Will that make you feel better? Less proud?”

A laugh bubbled up from her throat and could not be stopped. “My one comfort is that I am not as proud as you are.”

“Not until you grow about six inches. Then you could look down your nose at me all you want. Until then, I get to look down my nose at you—nostrils and all.”

“Have you ever considered trimming your nose hairs?”

Moses laughed until tears sprang to his eyes. “That bad?”

“Nae. I am just trying to pull your pride down a notch or two.”

“Do anything but joke about my facial hair. I’m very sensitive.”