A Bee in Her Bonnet (2 page)

He wasn't about to apologize for the “pretty” comment.
Pretty is as pretty does
, Mamm always said, and if Poppy wanted boys to think she was pretty, she would stop yelling at people and show some gratitude when someone risked his life to save hers.

Poppy didn't get her feelings hurt. She punched people.

Chapter Two

Poppy walked so fast she surely sent up a cloud of dust behind her. Her hand throbbed, her throat felt raw from screaming, and there was an ache in her chest that she tried valiantly to ignore.

She scolded herself for letting Luke Bontrager get under her skin. What did she care if he thought she was
hesslich,
ugly? He was arrogant and selfish and in sixth grade hadn't let her join in schoolyard games of tackle football because “girls shouldn't play rough like the boys.”

Ach
, she wanted to punch him all over again.

Why did the lane have to be so long? She could hear his steady footsteps immediately behind her as she passed some of their beehives, the honey house, and finally the barn. If her hand hadn't been throbbing, she could have easily outrun him, escaped into the house, and slammed the door on that smug, superior scowl of his.

She'd made it perfectly clear that she didn't need his “help.” Why was he still following her? Did he honestly think she would faint?

He dogged her steps up to the porch, but surely he'd go away once he saw her to the house. Unfortunately, he was arrogant enough to think that he was the only one who could tend to her hand, even though her sisters were just inside.

She reached for the door handle and looked down. A dead mouse lay on the welcome mat. Poppy caught her breath and tried not to shudder. She hated mice, but she refused to show any weakness in front of Luke.

Luke's gaze followed the path of hers. The mouse's mangled body rested on top of one of the bright yellow flowers on the mat. He bent over and picked it up by the tail. “Do you use this to ward off unwelcome guests?”

“If we do, it's not working.”

Much as she hated to touch the thing, it was her job to dispose of the cat's little gifts. She took the mouse out of Luke's fingers and flung it off the porch into the rosebushes at the side of the house.

Surprise flitted across his face. “You're not afraid of anything, are you, Poppy Christner?”

“No, but I'm annoyed by boys who don't know when to go away.”

“I only want to make sure your hand is okay yet. Then I'll leave.”

She could only hope.

“We got a new cat last week. He leaves something dead on our porch almost every day. I think it's his way of trying to be accepted into the family.” She opened the front door and barreled into the house with Luke in tow. The sooner in the house, the sooner she could get rid of him.

Poppy's older sister, Lily, stood at the butcher-block island stirring something in a bowl while her younger sister, Rose, kneaded bread dough. Aendi Bitsy, whom Poppy affectionately called “B,” sat at the table reading a cookbook. Aunt B's salt-and-pepper gray hair was mostly tucked under her
kapp
, but enough peeked out that Luke would notice it was tinted purple. Aunt B wore a pair of dangly pink earrings that matched the hair quite nicely.

Lily froze with her spoon clutched tightly in her hand. Rose's eyes grew as wide as extra-large eggs. She picked up her bread dough and pressed it to her like a security blanket. It would make a mess of her apron.

Aunt Bitsy rose to her feet and glowered at Luke as if she was trying to make him cry. “Have you brought home a stray, Poppy?” Her glare could have curdled water. She did not like boy visitors.

What did Luke think of the fluorescent pink earrings dangling from Aunt B's ears just below her prayer
kapp
? Aunt B had lived as an
Englischer
before coming back to the Amish when Poppy's parents had passed away, and she didn't quite fit the mold of an Amish
fraa
. She often dyed her gray hair pastel colors, wore very un-Amish earrings, and sang loud
Englisch
songs with strange lyrics.

Aunt B's appearance didn't seem to ruffle Luke's feathers one bit. He marched right up to her as if he found nothing shocking about her earrings or her bone-chilling glare. Poppy couldn't help but be impressed. And perhaps a little disarmed. “Poppy's hurt her hand, and I want to make sure it gets taken care of.”

Lily, Rose, and B pulled their curious gazes from Luke's face and converged on Poppy. Rose didn't even put her bread dough down as she and Lily came around the island.

“What happened?” Aunt B said, brushing past Luke as if he were invisible.

“I'm okay,” Poppy said. “It's just a little bruise.”

“It's broken,” Luke said.

Ach
, he thought he was so smart. “It's not broken,” Poppy insisted. Lily took Poppy's hand to look at it. Poppy hissed in pain before clamping her lips together. She wouldn't in a million years give Luke a reason to gloat over her.

Lily frowned, her features lined with worry. “Poppy, what happened? This looks terrible.”

Aunt B turned her wrath on undeserving Luke. “What did you do, young man? Are you aware I have a shotgun in my possession?”

Luke didn't back down, not one little bit. He remained unexpectedly calm at the threat of getting shot. “If it weren't for me, she wouldn't have any fingers left.”

Poppy lifted her chin. “You can't take credit for all ten. No matter what might have happened out there, I would still have at least five fingers.”

He folded his arms across his chest. “
Ach
, at least five? Forgive my arrogance.”

Deciding to ignore him, she flexed her fingers just to prove they weren't broken. Pain tore up her arm. She stifled a gasp and swallowed her tears. “I was walking home when I saw a car parked in front of our farm. It was just sitting there, and I wondered if it could be the person who's been making all the trouble.”

The mischief had started over a month ago. First someone had tipped over one of their beehives. A few nights later, the troublemaker had torn all the laundry off the line and stomped it in the mud. He had even taken one of their buggy wheels off one night while they slept.

“You think they were the ones who . . .” Luke glanced at Rose, shut his mouth, and practically choked swallowing his next words. The vandal or vandals had painted a horrible message on their barn four weeks ago, and Luke, Dan Kanagy, and Josiah Yoder had been good enough to paint over it in the middle of the night before Rose had a chance to see it. The thought of someone trespassing on their farm and making mischief troubled all of them, but it terrified Rose. The less she knew, the better.

Poppy felt a spark of warmth on her cheeks. Luke had sacrificed a good night's sleep for Rose's sake. He had at least one redeeming quality.

But probably only that one.

Rose squeezed the bread dough in her hands until it oozed between her fingers. “Poppy, you saw the man who hurt our bees?”

“He had his window rolled down, and I got close enough to see what looked like bee stings on his face. That's when I knew it was him.”

Lily looked at Luke. “Last night they tipped over another beehive. We figured whoever did it would have been stung.”

“I yelled at him as I came up beside his car,” Poppy said. “He started to roll up his window, so I reached my hand in to stop him. I didn't think he'd roll me right up with it.”

“
Ach, du lieva
, oh my goodness,” Lily said, probing Poppy's bruise with her thumb.

“The car started going, and I had to jog alongside or get dragged down the road.”

“That must have hurt something wonderful,” Rose said.

“I never got a good look at his face. Luke pulled me away from the car before I had a chance to see.”

A frown looked to be chiseled into Luke's face. “I'm not going to apologize for saving your fingers.”

Lily had recently become engaged to Luke's best friend, Dan, so she didn't find Luke completely disagreeable. “
Denki
, Luke. Poppy could have been run over.”

Luke grunted dismissively. “The car was rolling down the road with Poppy's hand half in and half out. I got in front of the car and threatened them with my crowbar.”

Lily's mouth fell open. “You put yourself in the path of a moving car?”

“I wasn't about to let them drive off and hurt Poppy. They didn't want their headlights smashed in, so they rolled the window down far enough for Poppy to pull her hand out.”

Aunt B's expression softened around the edges. “You've done a very
gute
thing, Luke Bontrager.”

Poppy's family fell into awed silence, gazing at Luke as if he were an angel, or at the very least, a bishop. Poppy couldn't share their admiration, but she should have been humble enough to admit that Luke had saved her from something that could have turned out very badly. But it galled her that it gave him one more reason to feel superior.

Ach
, his head was puffed up enough already.

She cleared her throat. “I . . . I didn't say it before, but I'm grateful that you made them stop.”

It had to be said, even if it felt like swallowing a mouthful of sawdust.

Luke nodded, a smug curve to his lips. “With the four of you living here alone, I always try to keep an eye out for your protection.”

Aunt Bitsy very nearly snorted. “You think we need protection? I suppose it's better than thinking we need therapy.”

“I'm always happy to do what I can,” Luke said.

B folded her arms and smirked. “It must be such a burden for you.”

“I don't mind. It's a man's duty to watch out for the women.”

Should Poppy warn him that he was walking headlong into a hornet's nest? He was so cheerfully oblivious. She almost felt sorry for him—but not sorry enough to stop him.

“My
dat
says women can't be expected to withstand the things a man can.”

“Young man,” Aunt Bitsy said, looking at Luke as if he were a little slow. “I have my yellow belt in karate, one very fierce cat, and a shotgun for emergencies. Completely without your help, we've managed to support ourselves from what we produce on this farm. We lift honey supers, drive horses, bake bread, and use chain saws.”

Luke didn't seem the least bit impressed. “You shouldn't. A chain saw will chew your fingers into hamburger.”

Aunt Bitsy gazed at the ceiling. “Dear Lord, thank you for sending Luke Bontrager into our home. We don't know how we have managed without him for so long.”

B liked talking to
Gotte
out loud, but her sarcasm was lost on Luke.

“I don't know how you've managed without a man for so long either,” he said, digging himself deeper and deeper. “Women are delicate and sweet. You need a man here to shield you from a hard world.”

Aunt B raised an eyebrow. “The only thing sweet about me is the butterfly tattoo on my ankle.”

Poppy resisted the urge to laugh out loud at the look of befuddlement on Luke's face. No argument existed to counter an ankle tattoo.

Sometimes there were no words.

He must have found it wise to change the subject. “I'll run home and unhitch my team, then bring the buggy over and take Poppy to the hospital for X-rays. Or I could call a driver.”

“
Nae
, you won't,” Poppy said.

The muscles of his jaw twitched slightly. “Since I'm the one who saved you from that car, I feel responsible. I'm taking you to a doctor.”

Poppy wouldn't let Luke boss her around, no matter how bad her hand hurt. “You needn't bother. If I need to go to the hospital—which I don't—I can take myself.”

The lines in his forehead piled up on themselves, as if no one had ever refused his help before. “Why should you, when I've already offered?”

“I don't want your help.”

His eyebrows traveled upward, matching his obviously heightened irritation. “You'll never get a husband by digging in your heels, Poppy Christner. I'm just trying to help.”

If he thought to change her mind with that piece of advice, he was sorely mistaken. Poppy's grandfather, Dawdi Sol, had been very clear that she would never get a husband. The threat didn't even hurt her anymore. Mostly. “If all the boys are as thick and conceited as you, I'd rather be an old maid.”

“Well, don't come crying to me when you are.”

“I don't cry.”

He threw up his hands. “Of course not. You're tough as a whole bucketful of nails.”

“And I don't need a man.”

“And a man doesn't need the frustration.”

They stared at each other for five awkward seconds. Aunt B and Lily had managed to slide out of their way, so nothing stood between Poppy and Luke to divert her attention from those brooding eyes and the strong, angular chin. There was no denying Luke Bontrager had a good face. Too bad he didn't have a personality to go along with it.

He tapped his fist on the table as a signal of finality. “I've done all I can do, Bitsy. You're on your own. I hope she doesn't come to regret her stubbornness.”

Aunt B grunted. “Never accuse someone of weakness to cover up your own, Luke Bontrager.”

He stomped to the door and yanked it open.

“Luke, wait,” Rose said, in the timid voice she used with strangers.

Poppy eyed her sister. Luke's imposing presence should have rendered Rose completely mute.

Rose bustled to the counter by the oven, put down her bread dough, and rinsed her hands in the sink. Then she took three honey cookies from the cooling rack, wrapped them in a napkin, and gave them to Luke. “
Denki
for saving my sister.”