Huckleberry Harvest (17 page)

Mammi looked at the jug and pursed her lips. “Oh dear. I think we should save it for the real boys.”

“I’m a real boy,” Titus protested.

Mandy stood and pulled a paper cup from the bag. “We should let him have a drink, Mammi. He worked hard.”

“Of course you’re right,” Mammi said. “But maybe we should give him half a cupful, just in case. I don’t want to run out.”

“We won’t run out.” She filled Titus’s cup to the brim and handed it to him.

He frowned as if he had just failed a test he hadn’t studied for.

“Now, Titus,” Mammi said. “You may send the first suitor in. And remember, don’t tell any of them, not even Freeman, that we’re choosing one of them for Mandy. I don’t want them to feel bad if we choose someone else.”

Titus downed his lemonade in three gulps. “Okay, Mammi.”

She arched an eyebrow. “And don’t give them any clues about the test. We don’t want anyone to have an unfair advantage.”

Titus slumped his shoulders. “I won’t, Mammi, but will you tell me if any of them get it over their head?”

Mammi drew a line clear across the paper just underneath Titus’s name. “Do you think you could send them in in alphabetical order, dear?”

Titus shuffled his way to the door. “By first or last names?”

Mammi nibbled on the eraser and looked to the ceiling. “I think first is best, don’t you?”

Adam Wengerd, the arrogant boy who used to have teeth like a beaver, strutted into the barn. His gaze darted between Mammi and Mandy, and he seemed on the verge of asking just what was going on here. Mandy kept her mouth shut and tried to blend into the hay bale she sat on. Wouldn’t it be nice if no one could see her?

Mammi directed him to stand next to Titus’s hay bale. “Adam,” she said, “can you lift that hay bale over your head?”

“Do you need someone to get it into the hay mow for you?” he said, pointing upward at the small loft where they stored hay. Mammi’s barn wasn’t all that high, so the loft was only a couple of feet above Adam’s head.

“Eventually,” Mammi said. “Today we just want to see if you can lift it.”

“Okay,” Adam said, with a tentative note in his voice.

He managed better than Titus had. He still made a face as if his spleen would rupture, but he raised the bale an inch or two over his head before releasing it and letting it smash to the ground.

“Was that good enough?”

“Oh yes,” Mammi said, nudging Mandy’s leg with her knee and giving her a knowing look. “I have one question. Do you know how to swim?”

Adam raised his eyebrows. “Jah, I suppose. I never took lessons, but I go to the lake all the time.”

“Okay,” Mammi said.

Mandy found herself wishing she had a clipboard as well. She didn’t want to write anything down. She just wanted to hide behind it.

To her horror, Mammi looked at her. “Mandy, do you have any other questions?”

Mandy pressed her lips together as if they were glued shut and shook her head.

Adam tilted his head to one side and regarded Mandy. “I’ll see you next Friday night, then, okay?”

Still lacking the power of speech, Mandy nodded.

Adam nodded back and strode out of the barn as confidently as he had entered.

She’d agreed to another date with Adam because she hadn’t wanted to hurt his feelings when she should have just told him no.

“Send the next one in,” Mammi called before Adam had shut the door. She widened her eyes and smiled. “You didn’t tell me that you and Adam are seeing each other again. I thought you’d given up on him.”

“It’s just . . . he asked me to go to the gathering with him on Friday.”

“Is he the one? I can send all these other boys home if you want. Of course, then we’d have a lot of leftover lemonade. Titus would get his fill.”

“Nae, Mammi. Adam isn’t the one. I don’t think anybody in Bonduel . . .”

Mammi consulted her clipboard. “He does have very nice teeth. He never took swimming lessons, but most of die youngie have never taken lessons. A lot of them swim just fine.” She put a little checkmark by Adam’s name. “I liked the way he lifted that hay bale. Did you notice his muscles?”

Mandy didn’t know what to say. How could she tell her Mammi that she was trying not to notice anything about any of the boys? “Um, he lifted it all the way over his head.”

“Jah, but not with the arms extended. That could be a point against him.”

“Oh dear,” Mammi said. “We forgot to give him some lemonade. Do you think his feelings were hurt?”

Titus came back into the barn.

“Titus,” Mammi said. “Where is the next boy?”

“He’s coming. But I need a pitchfork. Do you have a pitchfork?”

Mammi gave Titus an exasperated huff. “There is one over there by Dawdi’s workbench and two more in the toolshed, and what do you need a pitchfork for?”

Titus found the pitchfork and practically raced out the door. “Denki, Mammi,” he said as he closed the door behind him.

Mammi propped a hand on her hip. “Just what do you think that was about?”

Moments later, the next boy entered the barn. Well, maybe “boy” was not an accurate description. He looked to be well on the downhill side of thirty with a potbelly and a shiny bald head. He shuffled his feet and kept his eyes down, acting as timid as a church mouse. “I hear you’re looking for someone to do some work.”

“We have a job, yes,” Mammi said. “I’ve never met you. How did you hear about this job?”

“Davy Burkholder called me. I have a wood shop this side of Wausau. I could use something extra on the side to help me start a goat business.” He fiddled with the brim of his hat. “My name is Aaron Stutzman.”

Mammi rolled her eyes. “Aaron? Doesn’t Titus know what alphabetical order means?”

Aaron kept shuffling, as if standing in the barn talking to Mammi was the most uncomfortable thing he’d ever done in his life. “I don’t know. He told me to come in, so I came in. Did I do it wrong?”

Mammi flashed him a smile that would have put a skittish horse at ease. “Of course not, Aaron. You’re doing just fine.”

Mandy nearly put a stop to the test before Mammi went any further. Aaron, who didn’t look to be in any sort of good physical condition, might truly hurt himself if he tried to lift a hay bale over his head.

Mammi looked down at her clipboard. “Aaron, do you know how to swim?”

“Jah.”

“And what is the condition of your teeth?”

Aaron raised his eyebrows and stretched his mouth across his face as if Mammi had said something slightly inappropriate. “I had two pulled three years ago and lost one last summer.”

Mammi furiously made notes, as if Aaron had given a stirring speech and she didn’t want to forget one word. After an awkward minute of Aaron shuffling and fiddling and Mandy trying to look anywhere but at him, Mammi tapped her pencil on the clipboard. “Denki, Aaron. That is all. We will let you know if we want you to do the job for us. Have a cup of lemonade on your way out.”

Aaron rolled the brim of his hat in his fingers. “I am a gute worker, and I could ride the bus up here two or three days a week. I want to raise goats and sell milk.”

Mammi handed Aaron a cup of lemonade. “That’s a wonderful-gute occupation. Lord willing, you’ll have a big herd.”

Aaron took the cup from Mammi and slowly backed away, nodding and attempting to smile on his way out.

Half his lemonade spilled in the dirt as he shut the barn door behind him.

Mandy sighed. “No muscle test?”

“I’d rather not have to call an ambulance this morning.”

Mammi’s eyes twinkled. “I guessed that it would be a waste of time, unless you prefer older men.”

“Um, nae. I prefer men from Charm.”

She patted Mandy on the knee. “That’s only because you haven’t seen all that Bonduel has to offer yet.”

The next boy strode into the barn as if he owned it. He wasn’t tall, of medium build, with a shock of golden curly hair on top of his head. He truly couldn’t have been more than sixteen years old.

Mammi leaned close to whisper in Mandy’s ear. “I don’t expect you to marry this one, but he’s Adam’s little brother. I couldn’t very well invite Adam without inviting Zeb.”

“Hello, Anna,” Zeb said, grinning as if he were completely confident of winning whatever contest Mammi asked him to compete in.

Mammi picked up her clipboard, wrote his name, and huffed out a quick breath. “It wonders me if Titus ever learned his alphabet. Aren’t there any
F
’s,
G
’s, or
H
’s out there?”

Zeb’s self-assurance seemed to wilt a bit. “Is this a reading test? I’m not gute with my letters.”

Mammi waved her hand around. “Oh, it doesn’t matter. We’re glad you’re here, Zeb—spelled with a
Z
.”

“Titus told me you need some heavy lifting done.”

Mammi pursed her lips. “Titus doesn’t follow instructions very well. Sometimes that boy . . .” She didn’t finish her thought.

Mandy had a pretty good idea where it was going.

Mammi regained her smile. Titus might have been a little thick in the head, but he was her grandson. No mammi could love a boy more. “Well, now, Zeb. Here is the test. Can you lift this hay bale over your head?”

Zeb gazed at the bale at his feet. “Sure. Where do you want me to put it?”

“Just lift it and put it down again.”

Zeb bent over and hefted the hay bale to the level of his knees. Then with a grunt, he swung it so hard that it sailed over his head and catapulted him backward. He let go before it took him to the ground, but he had to take several steps back to regain his balance. He glanced at Mandy and grinned sheepishly. “Sorry. It kind of got away from me.”

“No need to apologize,” Mammi assured him. “Would you like some lemonade?”

“Okay,” Zeb said.

Mandy picked up a cup and filled it for Zeb. He flashed a bright smile when she handed it to him. Zeb Wengerd had very nice teeth, just like his brother. “Times like these, I wish I was just a little older,” he said.

“Zeb, do you know how to swim?” Mammi asked.

“Jah, of course. Doesn’t everybody?”

Mammi made her notes on the clipboard, even though she’d already told Mandy that Zeb was not a candidate. Mandy supposed she wanted to be fair. “Denki for coming, Zeb. You did a gute job with the hay. Would you ask Titus to send the next boy in?”

Zeb nodded, finished off his lemonade, and handed the cup back to Mandy. She gave him a wan smile, dreading the parade of prospective suitors standing in line outside the barn for their chance. Couldn’t they just be done with it? Maybe she should fib to Mammi and tell her that she had settled on Adam Wengerd. Or perhaps she should fake a headache. At this point, with her face the temperature of a cup of coffee and the pounding right behind her eyes, she wouldn’t have to fake very much.

Nae. Illness would only postpone the inevitable. Sure as rain, Mammi would invite them all up another day to pull the buggy around the yard or pluck tree stumps from the ground with their bare hands. Better to get it over with now and limit the embarrassment to another hour or so.

Mammi looked as if she could barely contain her delight. “Isn’t this fun? Just wait until you lay eyes on Luke Miller. He’s got seven sisters. His family grows chrysanthemums to sell at the produce auction every year. And he only has nine toes.”

Mandy tried for that smile again. How often did she get to meet a nine-toed man? It would be a day to remember.

They sat for nearly five minutes before the next boy made his entrance. It was Paul Zook, whom Mandy had met last week when he came to help move the stove. He looked as if he’d been playing in the dirt. A dark smudge ran down the side of his cheek and his navy-blue shirt was dusted with a fine gray powder.

“Paul, denki for coming today,” Mammi said. “I’m sorry you had to wait so long.”

Paul brushed off his arms and sent a cloud of dust into the air. “We’re making gute use of the time out there,” he said.

Even though Paul made a very valiant attempt to get the hay bale over his head, he managed to pull it up to his chest but no farther. Mammi asked him about swimming and hunting, and she even requested that he tilt his head back and open his mouth so she could inspect his teeth. Mandy wondered if he felt like a horse up for auction. A horse with a nice set of braces.

Another dozen boys paraded through the barn, and Mammi added a question or a task with each one. Maybe she sensed Mandy’s resistance and felt she needed to get more information.

She requested Freeman Kiem’s complete dental record plus inquired into whether he’d gotten a tetanus shot. She asked Davy Burkholder’s opinion on the deer hunt before directing him to wiggle his ears the way he did when he wanted to entertain his younger siblings. La Wayne Burkholder, Davy’s cousin, did that trick where he crossed his eyes and curled his tongue both ways.

Luke Miller, the nine-toed boy, lifted the hay bale clear over his head before dropping it with a satisfying thud. Then he snorted air in through his nose and spat out the contents of his throat onto the ground next to Mandy’s foot. Shuddering slightly, she quickly kicked some loose dirt over his spit with the toe of her shoe, followed by a handful of hay and then a napkin. She’d take a broom and scrub brush to it later. She tried not to think about it. After all, lots of nasty things lived on the barn floor.

Mammi gave Luke some lemonade. “Will you send the next boy in?”

The nine-toed spitter ambled out the door. “I’m the last one,” he said.

Mammi glanced up from her clipboard as Luke shut the barn door. “He was strong. Maybe you could cure him of that little spitting habit.”

“Maybe,” Mandy said.

Mammi exhaled slowly. “That was an interesting experience. Titus never did get them in alphabetical order.”