The Beekeeper's Son (The Amish of Bee County Book 1) (10 page)

“We play volleyball usually.”

Those weren’t the games Deborah meant, but she didn’t want to tell her cousin if Frannie didn’t already know of such things. Every district was different, every Ordnung different—one of the things she found most confusing. If a way of doing things was true and proper in God’s eyes, wouldn’t it be the same for all Plain folks? Another question she never expected to have answered.

She and Aaron had spent some time in the shed out in back of Josie’s barn at a singing not long after her seventeenth birthday. It had been hot and sweaty, but Aaron had grinned the whole time and he’d held her hand without trying anything else until the boys outside yelled their five minutes were up and it was time for them to come out. That was when she’d decided he was the one. They’d exchanged their first kiss in that same shed a year later. Now she wished she had those lovely first kisses back. They should’ve belonged to someone else. Someone willing to wait for her. Not someone who gave up at the first sinkhole in the road.

“You’re moony-eyed again.” Frannie slapped Deborah on the shoulder with a playful swat. “You know who is pleasing to the eye? Jesse Glick. He isn’t courting anyone, leastways so you would notice. Maybe he’ll give you a ride home. That’s when the pairing-up happens. Or maybe he’ll take you for a walk.”

“Leroy’s son?” Leila’s expression perked up. “I saw him at the store yesterday. Dropping off a bunch of eggs. He said hey.”

“Besides running the store, they build and repair buggies. They also break horses for the Englisch folks. They do all right.”

Deborah wiped at the sweat forming on her upper lip. Her fresh dress drooped. It was a long walk from John’s to Leroy’s and she still had to make the walk home, unless a boy like Jesse gave her a ride.

Only a few buggies and one wagon were parked in front of the house. Either attendance was light, or the others were on foot too. Deborah longed for Aaron’s two-seater. Nee
.
She banished Aaron from her thoughts and trudged up the two lone steps to Leroy’s front door, where she tapped with a shaking hand.

“Nee, silly, go on in. It’s unlocked. They’re expecting us.” Frannie pushed past Deborah and opened the door. “Don’t make them keep coming to the door.”

Deborah followed her in, Leila and Rebekah close behind. The Glicks had pushed the benches from their supper table into the front room and arranged them in rows along with two rocking chairs, a couple of straight-back chairs, and a footstool. The sparsely furnished room had plenty of space for the dozen and a half or so young folks who occupied it. Leroy stood in the doorway that most likely led to the room where they took their meals and then the kitchen beyond. He nodded. Frannie approached him directly and shook his hand. Following her lead, Deborah, Leila, and Rebekah did the same. He had a firm but quick shake.

“Have a seat.” He nodded toward the benches. “Girls on that side.”

Feeling like a turnip in a basket of beets, Deborah watched Frannie traipse over to a cluster of girls she’d seen at the prayer service earlier. They glanced her way, gazes open and curious.

“The Lantz girls!” Esther King broke away from the group,
all smiles. “I was hoping you’d come. The more the merrier. We could use some new faces.”

Esther looked like Phineas. They had the same blue-green eyes and dark hair, but she was a slight girl, barely as tall as Leila, and round in a pleasing way. She didn’t have any of her brother’s dark broodiness. But then it would be easier for her—she didn’t carry the scars of that day. Had she been in the van? The details of the accident were none of Deborah’s business, but life had changed for the entire King family that day, physical scars or no.

She glanced beyond Esther to the boys roughhousing and talking in low voices, glancing at the girls every now and again to see if they were watching. No Phineas.

“It’s nice to be here.” Deborah forced a smile. Being here reminded her of not being with Josie and her friends back home. It reminded her of Aaron. “It’s a nice little group you have.”

“Small, but lots of spunk.” Esther plopped onto a bench and patted the spot next to her. “Sit next to me.”

Deborah did as instructed. She surveyed the group. “Phineas isn’t coming?”

“He fancies himself too old, I reckon.” Esther’s eyebrows rose and she leaned toward Deborah. A smile spread across her face. “Why, did you expect to see him here?”

“Nee, I . . . I just . . .” Deborah plucked at a thread on her apron. Why had she brought up Phineas to his sister? Now Esther would run home and tell him. Phineas got under her skin. Not in a good way. Really. “I just wondered. He’s not married and he’s the same age.”

Esther’s smile drained away. “My bruder’s not like most men. I wouldn’t change a thing about him, but I wish girls could really see him.”

“See past his . . . scars?”

“It’s okay to say it. He has scars. He also has a good heart. Once you get to know him. Believe me, I know him.” Esther’s smile returned. “I’ll tell him you asked about him.”

“Nee, nee, don’t do that.” Heat scalded Deborah’s cheeks. It had been an idle question, nothing more. “He’ll think . . .”

“He’ll think you’re interested.” Esther’s face darkened. “And you’re not because you’re like all the other girls. All you can see is his face. Well, he’s worth getting to know and it’s your loss.”

“Nee, I just don’t want to be too forward.” Deborah grappled for words to explain the strange awkwardness that afflicted her whenever she thought of Esther’s brother. “It’s not my place. I mean, I’m new and I don’t know what’s what.”

“Isn’t that the point of all this?” Esther patted her hand as if she were the much older, wiser woman. “Give Phineas a chance—that’s all I’m saying. After all, courting is private. Speaking of which . . .”

She popped to her feet and gave a fleeting, furtive wave to a young man with dark-rimmed glasses and brilliant green eyes who leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, as if waiting. Deborah had seen him at the Combination Store. Jesse Glick’s older brother, Adam. Esther had a special friend. Maybe she could explain all the feelings rattling around inside Deborah.

“How do I know—?”

Deborah’s words were drowned out by the first notes of a hymn sung by Jesse Glick, who clutched a songbook in his big, tanned hands. Esther sank back into her seat, disappointment apparent in the way she stared as Adam slipped onto the bench next to Jesse. Stragglers eased into their seats and voices immediately rose up to meet Jesse’s in the sweet German that came without effort, without thought.

Unaccountably irritated by her conversation with Esther, Deborah closed her eyes and tried to focus on the words of the old, familiar hymn. The words died away and someone else picked another song, equally familiar. She opened her eyes and saw Leroy straighten and ease from the room, probably into the kitchen where he and his fraa would sit and chat within earshot.

The singing went on and on. Deborah grew sweaty and her throat felt parched. Will Glick, Jesse’s cousin, left and came back with a bucket of water and a tin cup. He handed it to Deborah first, a tentative smile on his tanned face. She nodded her thanks, gulped a few swallows, and passed it to Leila, whose face shone with sweat. Still, they continued to sing. Deborah could almost pretend Josie sat next to her and Aaron yonder in the first rocking chair.

But no, it was Jesse who sat across from her, Will on one side, his brother, Adam, on the other. Every time she glanced their way, Jesse was looking in her direction. Will seemed to alternate between the floor and the ceiling. She tried keeping her gaze on her hands, but curiosity drove her to take a quick peek again. Jesse grinned at her, his cheeks and jaw reddening.

The last note died away. “Time to eat.” Jesse popped up from his seat and waved a hand toward the girls. “Someone want to bring out the snacks?”

Frannie, Leila, and Rebekah, glued to her side, and her knot of friends headed to the kitchen, all the while whispering and giggling. Esther edged toward the door, Adam close behind. They huddled next to the door, heads close together, deep in conversation.

What now?

The music had been a balm to Deborah’s heart, but this part, this part seemed too much like being set adrift in a lake in a
canoe with no paddles. She’d never been new anywhere before. She’d known her friends her entire life. Her social skills were untested, untried, until now unnecessary. She’d made a mess of things with Esther. No one else had made an effort to include her.

She turned, thinking she’d head to the door, and bumped into Jesse. “Oh, sorry.” She stopped. Had he come over to talk to her? It seemed that way. The thought made her palms feel sweaty. “You’re Jesse, right?”

“Jah. Jesse. And you’re . . . I forget which one you are. I know there’s Leila, I met her at the store yesterday . . . and Rebekah and . . .”

“Deborah. My name is Deborah.”

“Gut. That’s gut.” He kept looking over her shoulder. She glanced back. The doorway that led to the kitchen was still empty. She swiveled toward Jesse and he grinned. “How are you liking it here in Bee County? Not as fancy as your district in Tennessee.”

“We’re not fancy.” The words stung, even if they were innocently intended. “Bee County is different, not as . . . green.”

Deborah was going to say pretty, but that did indeed sound fancy. Jesse didn’t seem to notice her hesitancy. His gaze returned to the spot over her shoulder. Whatever he wanted, he wasn’t finding it in the conversation with her. She swiveled again. This time the girls were streaming through the door, Leila at the front, Frannie and Rebekah right behind her.

“That’s nice.” Jesse squeezed past her and trotted toward the other girls. “Welcome to Bee County.”

“Danki.” Deborah pressed her hands together in front of her and breathed a long sigh. “For nothing.”

He hadn’t heard her words because he hadn’t been listening. He’d been watching for someone else. He took a plate of cookies
from Leila, his words indistinct across the room, but his expression speaking volumes. Leila smiled up at him, her face shy. The dimples in her cheeks deepened. She ducked her head and said something. Jesse answered and stepped back, letting Leila lead the way. Neither seemed aware that Deborah watched.

Deborah edged toward the door and slipped out. She was glad for Leila, but the bittersweet taste in her mouth made the bile rise in her throat. Time to go home.

“Don’t mind Jesse.” Will stuck his head through the door before she could shut it. “He’s like a kid in a candy store tonight.”

“What?” She feigned ignorance, not wanting to find herself vulnerable yet again. “That sounds . . . like he’s big on himself.”

“My cousin isn’t big on himself.” Will moved so he stood next to her on the narrow porch. “New girls at the singing. It’s been awhile since that happened.”

“So we’re like produce, ripe for the picking.”

“That’s not exactly how I would’ve said it.” A wide grin split his face, revealing white, even teeth. “But that’s one way of putting it.”

“I don’t care for that way much.”

“We don’t intend to offend you. It’s just that we don’t have many girls and we’re thinking . . . ahead.”

How could she be offended when she’d been doing the same thing? “It’s okay.”

“Then why do you look so aggravated? You look like you just drank turpentine.”

“I’m not mad . . . I’m just . . .” She stared at the gathering dusk. “Tired.”

“That’s not what you were planning to say.”

“I’m homesick.”

“You got someone back home?”

“Nee.” Not anymore.

“Gut.” He cocked his head toward the door. “They’re about to start again. Come back in.”

“Not tonight.”

“But next time?”

He was so eager. He didn’t even know her. Just her outsides. Her appearance. First impressions.

Phineas didn’t get to rely on those. Most people never got past that first look. Why was she thinking of him now, with his prickly ways? “We’ll see.”

“We sure will.”

Deborah bolted from the porch, the self-assurance in those three words following her. Will Glick didn’t know her, but he’d like to change that.

Somehow that knowledge didn’t give her the pleasure she once thought it would.

ELEVEN

Deborah stumbled over a tuft of cornstalk. She bit back a groan and strode forward. Burrs stuck to the top of her now-dusty sneakers. The journey home seemed even longer than the walk to Leroy’s house. She had no one to blame but herself. She could’ve stayed at the singing. Instead, she’d slipped away because Jesse was more interested in Leila than her. Deborah didn’t even want a special friend. She still cared for Aaron. She wasn’t so shallow that she could simply forget what they had one week to the next.

Still, it hurt for some reason. She grabbed at the thought and turned it over in her head as she walked, her gaze on the ground to try to avoid stepping in a red ant hill. It hurt because she felt so alone here. Aaron didn’t want her. Maybe no one would. She longed to be a fraa and a mudder. Everything up until she left Tennessee to come here had led her to believe Gott’s plan was for her to be with Aaron. Now she had no idea which way to go, where to turn, so she kept walking forward.

Time to get over it, as Onkel John said. Sniffing, she picked up her pace and cut across the field next to Leroy’s farm. If she walked along the creek bed, now nearly dry, it would take her in
a more direct line to Onkel John’s. She slipped past a water tank, sidestepped an old, broken-down wagon, and made her way to the creek bed. The sooner she arrived at the house, the sooner she could go to bed and begin a new day.

Rustling sounds followed by deep, guttural grunts brought Deborah to an abrupt halt. Her breath caught in her throat and her heart, already pumping with the exertion of her walk, clattered into overdrive. In the gathering dusk, several mounds moved. They grunted in a cacophony of conversation that sounded like they were looking for something they couldn’t find.

Barely breathing, hands pressed to her chest, her entire body rigid, she peered at the mounds that seemed to be milling about. Pigs. They looked like pigs, but bigger. They had white tusks and big heads with stiff, grizzled whiskers. They were black or dark brown, she couldn’t tell. Mostly they were big. She’d never seen such enormous pigs.