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Authors: Jennifer Beckstrand

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BOOK: A Bee in Her Bonnet
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Chapter Ten
Dear Luke, I'm so sorry for how I behaved last night, especially after you fixed my sink. You are the most unselfish boy in the community and the most nicest and godly too. I won't be able to sleep until I know I have your forgiveness. Dinah
Luke stood by his wagon and read Dinah's letter. Nice, short, and to the point.
Gute
thing, because the team was waiting and he needed to get to the Johnsons'. Dinah must have stuck the note in his mailbox early this morning.
It was a
gute
thing she had been the one to apologize, because he wouldn't have had any idea what he needed to say sorry for. Now he could see her at
gmay
, and it would be as if nothing had ever happened.
He hated having to guess what girls were thinking.
At least with Poppy, he knew exactly what she thought every minute. Most of the time, she was not thinking well of him. He smiled to himself. He liked getting under her skin a little—just to see her eyes flash with indignation.
Luke folded the letter and stuffed it in his pocket. Time to get to work. Yesterday, he'd laid half of the Johnsons' entry floor with a dark, beautiful mahogany. He loved working with the wood, smoothing his hand along a board sanded so fine that it felt like silk, making floor joints fit together so tightly that not even a drop of water would seep through.
Was it a sin to take satisfaction in doing a job well? Even Poppy would be impressed by the floor he'd laid yesterday.
Luke scrubbed his hand along the whiskers on his chin. What he meant was, even Dinah would be impressed by his floor.
He blew a puff of air from between his lips. Of course Dinah would be impressed. She gushed over everything he did, from every hit he made in a softball game to every word that came out of his mouth. She liked the way he chewed his food, the way he drove the buggy, the way he laced his boots.
As far as he knew, Poppy didn't like any of those things.
So why had Poppy's face come to mind so readily just now?
Granted, it was a pretty face, with bright, intelligent eyes that flashed whenever he said something that provoked her. Even when she smiled at him, her full lips were always poised for a quarrel. He propped his foot on the wheel hub and grabbed on to the seat to pull himself into the wagon. What would it be like to kiss Poppy's lips? Would they taste like cinnamon?
His foot slipped off the wheel and he tumbled, only missing the ground because his hand found the lip of the wagon before he fell face-first into the dirt.
Why in the world had kissing Poppy crossed his mind?
He would never kiss Poppy Christner.
Not in a million years—no matter how soft or inviting those lips were, no matter how much her smiles and her scowls tempted him.
He would rather kiss Dinah . . . what was her last name?
Eicher. Dinah Eicher. The girl who had gotten her feelings hurt because she thought he'd insulted her cooking. The girl who forgave him the next day without his ever having to apologize. She was the girl he wanted to kiss.
“You okay?”
Poppy, looking very pretty in a maroon dress, a black apron, bare feet, and a nose sprinkled with freckles, came walking down the road with a basket hooked over her elbow.
He would not stare at her lips.
Would not stare.
He brushed some imaginary dust from his trousers and leaned his arm casually against the wheel rim. “I lost my footing. My boots are slippery.” He trained his eyes on Poppy's forehead. She probably thought he'd gone a little crazy. “I'm going into town to finish laying a floor.”
“I'm glad I caught you,” she said, flashing him a really nice I-don't-hate-you-anymore smile. Helping a boy clean vomit out of his buggy could do that to a girl.
He gave her an equally pleasant I-never-ever-hated-you-and-I-am-not-staring-at-your-lips smile. She really did have a nice forehead.
“Even though Aunt B says I shouldn't feed you, I wanted to make sure you know how grateful we are to you for building us a chicken coop. Since you seemed to enjoy that bread the other night, I made you the same kind.” She pulled a brown paper package from her basket.
He took the bread carefully, as if it might crumble into a million pieces if he handled it roughly. “I think I'm going to cry.”
She smiled even wider, forcing him to take a good look at those lips. “It's just nut brown bread. It takes minutes to make.”
He tore open the brown paper wrapping. “I see you've already cut it into slices so I won't be tempted to bite into it whole and eat it like an apple.”
She giggled. “
Jah
. I was afraid you might do that.”
“Mind if I have some?”
She shook her head.
Remembering his manners just in time, he offered her the first slice. She raised her hand in refusal. “I couldn't be so cruel as to take one of your precious slices.”
He looked at her with his puppy dog eyes. “Oh,
denki
.”
She giggled again.
He polished off three pieces in a matter of seconds while Poppy stood with her basket in her hands watching him eat. Then he carefully rewrapped the rest of the loaf and placed it in the bed of his wagon by his toolbox. “I'll save the rest for supper at the Johnsons'.”
Might as well give her the peace offering he'd bought yesterday. He had stowed it in his toolbox thinking he'd take it to her house tonight after work. Now he wouldn't have to make the extra trip.
She was still smiling at him.
He wouldn't have minded the extra trip so much.
“I have something for you too,” he said, jumping into his wagon and unlatching the massive toolbox that sat in his wagon bed. He pulled the white plastic grocery bag out of the toolbox, jumped from the wagon, and handed it to her.
“It's heavy. I got their lightest model. I mean, not that you're weak, but it's easier to work with if you have to put in a lot of screws yet.”
She reached into the bag and bit her bottom lip. The uncertainty was kind of cute. “A drill?”
“Battery-powered. Includes ten drill bits. That should take care of all your drilling needs.”
Her mouth curled into a cautious smile. “I didn't know I had any drilling needs.”
“That's because you don't know all the things this drill can do.”
She studied his face. “I . . . I thought you didn't want me to get hurt.” She practically whispered, as if fearing to upset some sort of precarious balance between them.
“I don't. But a girl should know how to fix things around the house. Just be careful with it, okay?”
She stared at the drill as if she'd never seen one before. “I didn't expect this. . . .”
“From me?”
A blush traveled up her cheeks.
“Jah.”
“I was wrong to not trust you with the drill.”
She widened her eyes in mock surprise. “I'm going to faint. Luke Bontrager admitted he's wrong.”
“You don't faint.”
“Thank goodness.”
He didn't blame her for being a little shocked. Two weeks ago, he wouldn't have expected it of himself.
Even Luke Bontrager could change his mind. “I'll teach you how to use it, if you want.”
Her smile lit up her whole face, like a sunrise on a clear day. “I'd really like that.” Then she groaned, and the smile disappeared as quickly as it had come. “I can't accept this, Luke. It's too much.”
“I needed to make a big apology,” he said.
“It's worth a thousand loaves of bread.”
He stroked his hand along the stubble on his chin and grinned. “You could be right. You're welcome to bring me as many loaves as you think will make us even.”
Poppy's deep, throaty laugh made his heart do a cartwheel. Who knew he could take so much pleasure in making Poppy happy?
“I'd promise a loaf of bread a week until the day I die, but I'm afraid your wife wouldn't take kindly to a strange old maid bringing you food.”
“Old maid? Poppy, when you're an old maid, I'll eat my hat.”
Her eyes grew wide, as if he had taken her by surprise, and then she seemed to lose some of her enthusiasm. “You said I was too stubborn to get a husband.”
“I wanted to scare you into getting a tetanus shot.”
Her smile returned with a touch of mischief in it. “I guess it worked then.”
He narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”
“I told them I was worried about not getting a husband, so they gave me a tetanus shot after they X-rayed my hand.”
Luke growled like a bear. “All those times I begged and begged you to get a shot.”
She giggled. “I'd already gotten one.”
“And you didn't tell me because . . .”
“I didn't want you to think I did it because you told me to. Your head is big enough as it is.”
He threw up his hands and rolled his eyes. “Well. That's one less thing to worry about at night. Do you know how much sleep I've lost?”
“Just remember, I didn't do it because you told me to.”
“
Nae
, Poppy, the only reason you got a tetanus shot is because I told you to.”
“And because the doctor recommended it.”
Luke thumbed his suspenders. “So you admit I'm as smart as your doctor?”
Poppy shook her head. “I knew I shouldn't have said anything.”
Much as he enjoyed standing there gazing at Poppy with her basket hooked over her arm and her new drill clutched in her fingers, he needed to finish the entryway today. “Are you going into town?”
“
Jah
. I have three more loaves of bread to deliver, and I might look in on my grandparents.”
He gazed longingly at her basket. “You have three more loaves?”
“Don't covet,” Poppy said. “You've got your own loaf.”
“I can drive you into town, if you want.”
“As long as you don't try to steal my bread.”
He slumped his shoulders. “Okay. But don't forget who just gave you that very nice drill.”
That smile could have blinded a bat. “I won't ever.”
She wasn't even insulted when he offered his hand and helped her into the wagon.
Gute
. He hadn't meant it to be insulting. He slapped the reins to set his team in motion, and they lumbered slowly down the road toward town.
“It doesn't always have to be bread,” Poppy said.
“What?”
“I don't always have to bring you bread. The cherries come on next week. There's a
wunderbarr
recipe for honey custard with cherries. Or honey cherry cupcakes.”
“I'll eat whatever will make you feel better about using that fancy new drill.”
“Okay. I will pull out my cherry recipes.”
“I'm hungry already,” he said.
“You're always hungry.” She smiled at him as if she thought that was an endearing quality. His
mamm
would have disagreed.
The team hadn't gone a hundred yards down the road when Luke's sisters came racing toward them waving their arms and screaming hysterically. Luke's heart beat like a drum as he pulled the horses to an abrupt stop and jumped from the wagon. Poppy set her basket on the seat and followed right behind him.
“Luke,” Joann screamed, running at him like a madwoman. “Luke, Griff Simons threw four kittens into the ditch.”
Griff Simons? Luke thought that
Englisch
troublemaker had gone to live with his mother in Ohio.
Dorothy grabbed his arm. She had a good grip for a thirteen-year-old. “They're going to drown,” she screamed. She pointed down the road. “If we take the shortcut through the woods, we can save them.”
Joann grabbed his hand and started dragging him toward the trees. He pulled against her. “Hold on. Hold on. What are you talking about?”
Joann screamed louder, as if he couldn't hear her loud and clear already. “We've got to save the kittens. They're in the ditch, and they're going to drown.”
Whose kittens? And why did they have to save them?
Luke still resisted Joann's tugging. “Why did Griff throw them in the ditch?”
Without waiting for a full explanation, Poppy took Dorothy's hand, and they started running in the direction of the shortcut. “Show me where,” Poppy said.
Joann didn't waste more time trying to communicate with Luke. She took off after Poppy and Dorothy, heedless of the danger of trying to fish four kittens out of a ditch.
There was nothing for Luke to do but follow. He couldn't allow his sisters or Poppy to go in the ditch—especially since the kittens were no doubt already dead. “Joann, Dorothy, stop. Don't get in the water.”
Luke had firsthand knowledge that Poppy was a fast runner, but the bare feet and that sore knee of hers should have slowed her down a bit.
Nae
. She and Dorothy disappeared into the trees before the words were even out of his mouth. “No one goes in the water,” he yelled, loud enough so even three girls charging through the woods would hear him. His chest tightened, and he ran with all his might. His sisters might heed his warning, but Poppy wouldn't. He had to get there before she jumped in.
He pursued them madly into the trees, over fallen logs and brush and down the steep slope to the ditch. He breathed out a deep, thankful sigh. Dorothy and Joann stood safely on the bank, squealing and pointing out rocks and sticks that looked like they might be kittens. He was frustrated but not surprised to see Poppy already knee-deep in the ditch searching for kitten corpses.
BOOK: A Bee in Her Bonnet
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