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Authors: Jennifer Beckstrand

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BOOK: Huckleberry Christmas
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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, she’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?”
In puzzlement, Tyler stared at Alvin until understanding flickered in his eyes, and he stuttered his reply. “Nae . . . nae. I’m here to see Aden.”
Beth wanted to laugh out loud. Tyler was trying to be tactful and encouraging at the same time. He didn’t realize that Alvin’s suit was a lost cause. It would have been better if Tyler had pulled her into his arms and kissed her wildly—to send the clear message that Beth was unavailable. That would do it. Alvin would run for the hills.
Beth shivered involuntarily. The thought of kissing Tyler was not all that unpleasant. He had such a handsome face and a steady way about him. What girl wouldn’t be tempted?
Had she lost her mind?
“I came to help Aden build a chest of drawers for his wife for Christmas,” Tyler said. “We’re putting it together here because Aden wants it to be a surprise.”
Alvin unclenched his jaw. “Christmas will be here before we know it. Only four months.”
Mammi opened the front door and clapped her hands together as if dismissing a class of scholars. “Well, Alvin, Beth and I must go.”
Dear Mammi. Always so accommodating.
Alvin shaped and reshaped his lips as if searching for the perfect word to release from his mouth. “Oh.”
Not a bad choice of words, considering how Mammi’s dismissal must have thrown him for a loop. He had come to make a marriage proposal, for goodness sake.
Alvin soon recovered his composure and smiled pleasantly. “I can see this is an inconvenient day for a social call. I will return next Tuesday. When does Toby take a nap?”
Tuesday. She had until Tuesday to come up with a kind yet firm refusal. Guilt niggled at her like a mosquito buzzing next to her ear. “Toby usually goes down at noon.”
Alvin nodded cheerfully. “I will see you at noon on Tuesday.”
She couldn’t match his enthusiasm. “Okay.”
He tromped away, and Tyler gazed at Beth with an apology on his face. “I’m sorry if I interrupted something—”
“You didn’t,” Beth said with a finality in her voice that indicated she would rather not discuss Alvin Hoover ever again in her lifetime. She watched as Alvin climbed into his courting buggy and rode away. The more the distance grew between him and Beth, the better she felt. She grinned at sober-faced Tyler. “I noticed you rode your horse today. Was that in case you ran across a little boy playing in the middle of the lane? A horse is easier to stop than a buggy.”
Tyler furrowed his brow and turned his face away, as if studying the whitewash on the barn. “Of course not. Some days I like to ride.”
Beth liked seeing him squirm. He was too polite to mention that unfortunate incident ever again, but she suspected it was precisely the reason he had ridden his horse to Huckleberry Hill.
“You think I’m a bad mother, don’t you?”
He snapped his head around to look at her and growled when he saw the amusement in her eyes. “I like riding my horse. And toddlers are gute at escaping even the most careful mothers.”
“It’s so fun to tease someone who doesn’t know how to be teased.”
His lips turned upward into a half smile. Quite an accomplishment. “Why does something have to be wrong with me? Maybe you don’t know how to tease.”
She laughed. “You could be right. But I must tell you, I have years of practice.”
Tyler inclined his head toward her. “Then I have a lot to learn from you.”
He said it with a voice as smooth as honey, as if he looked forward to her lessons. A warm sensation spread to the tips of Beth’s fingers.
Toby poked his head out the front door and saw Tyler. “Mommy!” he squealed.
Beth felt her face glow. “He only calls people ‘mommy’ if he likes them. Congratulations.”
“I’m surprised he remembers me.” Tyler bounded up the steps and scooped Toby into his arms.
From inside, Dawdi shuffled to the door, humming one of his many tunes. “Tyler, you are just the man I want to see. Can you help me set up this newfangled contraption?”
“Of course.” Tyler put Toby on his feet even as he whined to stay in Tyler’s arms. “I’ll be back in no time at all, Toby.”
Beth tried not to let Tyler’s gentle ways make an impression on her, but any kindness to Toby, even from a man, softened her heart to jelly.
Tyler followed Dawdi into the house. “It’s called a Pack ’n Play,” Dawdi said. “It ain’t nothing but a crib, but a stranger crib I never saw.”
Mammi’s eyes sparkled like the sky on a starry night. “He’s a nice young man, ain’t not? And quite taken with Toby.”
Beth decided to skirt the issue. “Who wouldn’t love Toby?”
Of course Tyler was a nice young man. Beth had once thought Amos was a nice young man too.
“Who indeed?” Mammi said, as she slipped Toby’s arms into the small green sweater she’d knitted for him. “Did Alvin get a chance to propose?”
Beth curved her lips and shook her head. “He tried.” She studied the limp bouquet of flowers in her hand. “Am I wicked for not wanting to marry him?”
“Wicked? Of course not. Alvin needs a wife. You’re available. That’s as far as he’s thinking.” She fastened the sweater buttons up to Toby’s chin and gave the wiggly little boy a kiss. “Alvin needs Suvilla Mast. She’s four years older than him and has four children, all grown. She sits a bit broad, but so does he. They would get along very well together.” She sighed and looked as if the very thought of Suvilla Mast and Alvin Hoover wore her out. “There’s always so much matchmaking to be done.”
“That won’t stop him from coming back on Tuesday.”
“Nae. You’ll have to let him down easy. He’s worn out from all them
kinner
he’s caring for. He needs a wife right quick.”
BOOK: Huckleberry Christmas
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