The Beekeeper's Son (The Amish of Bee County Book 1) (3 page)

“Phin doesn’t make fun. He’s a big sourpuss. Open the door. Mudder made pulled-pork sandwiches with barbecue sauce, lemonade, and pecan pie to welcome y’all. We don’t get meat too often and my belly is growling.”

“He thought I was horrified by his looks when it was just the armadillo that took me by surprise.” Deborah slung open the door and waited for Frannie to drag the suitcase in, then dragged her garbage bag of clothes in behind her. “I didn’t mean to make him feel bad.”

“He’s had a good twelve or thirteen years to get used to the idea. If he’d be a little nicer to folks, they might forget about it too.”

“Did you tell him that?”

“
Nee
. We don’t talk.”

If a girl let him court her, then he would know his scars didn’t matter. “Does he have a special friend?”

“Not that I know of. You interested?” Frannie shoved open the first door at the beginning of a short hallway. “This is where you’ll sleep. With me and Hannah and the baby.”

Deborah hoped to be Aaron’s special friend when she returned to Tennessee. Not that she would tell anyone that. “I don’t even know him.”

She stared at the tiny room. It held two double beds crammed wall to wall with only a slender walkway between them. Nothing
else graced the space but a wooden crate bearing a kerosene lamp and a flashlight and hooks on the walls already full of dresses on hangers. One meager window stood open on the far side, but it didn’t matter. No breeze lifted the wrinkled white curtain. The air, smelling of dirty diapers, hung just as still and hot as it did outside. “Thank you for sharing your room with my sisters and me.”

“No reason to thank us. We aren’t fancy. If we had more room, we’d spread out, but this will have to do.” Frannie slapped the suitcase on top of the first bed. “You and Rebekah can share this one with me. We’ll put Leila and Hazel with the other girls.”

Deborah nodded.

“You can tell me all about Tennessee when we go to bed at night, and I can teach you all about Texas and everything you need to know to live here.” Frannie had obviously given this a lot of thought. “I want to know all about what it’s like out there. I haven’t been away from home since that one trip to Tennessee I barely remember.”

Deborah wished she could say the same.

THREE

Phineas brought the buggy to a halt next to the corral and hopped out. Despite himself, he’d spent the entire ride home picking at the memory of the new girl and how she’d reacted to him. The way her blue eyes widened in shock and horror when she first saw him. The way her hands flapped as if she was nervous. No excuse existed for the way he’d treated her. He couldn’t say what had come over him. Something about her . . .

Nee, he couldn’t blame her for his bad manners. When John had asked him to help out, Phineas knew exactly what was coming. He liked to help people out. It was their reaction to him that got old.

He could handle the horror look better than the sick look or the pity look. A whole range of looks existed. Phineas had seen them all. In fact, he kept a running catalog in his head. The pity look definitely took the cake as the worst one.

At least the new girl hadn’t given him the pity look.

Phineas tied the reins to the post and headed across the gravel road that separated the corral from the house. Let these folks have a good supper and a nice welcome. With any luck they’d
stay. That’s what everyone wanted. New blood. New folks to grow this little district before it disappeared like dust blowing in a hot wind the way other Plain communities in Texas had disappeared from the map long ago. With little more than a dozen families holding out, their community fought to survive with the closest Plain district being in Oklahoma.

Leastways, that was what his daed said.

“What are you doing here?”

As if thinking of his father could make him appear, Phineas looked up to see Daed headed toward him. He slowed, then stopped. Phineas might be able to avoid the new folks, but not Mordecai King. The man could not be denied. “Chores and supper, I reckon. I’ll take care of Brownie and the buggy after I get some water.”

“I thought you were headed to John’s for supper after you dropped off the honey. To greet the new folks.”

Phineas met his father’s gaze head-on and kept walking. It was the best policy when it came to Mordecai. The man in front of him could’ve been his reflection in a mirror—without the scars and twenty-some years older. They were the same height, same broad shoulders, and work-hardened bodies. Same skin tanned by the sun. The same untamable black hair sticking out from under straw hats. The differences were in his father’s long black beard decorated with a few strands of silver and his unmarred skin with wrinkles just beginning to touch the corners of his eyes and lines around his mouth. Under different circumstances, Phineas could’ve looked like that once he married. If he married. “Done met them at the store. I even helped with the bags.”

“And then you scuttled home like a bashful little boy?” Daed did an about-face and kept pace with Phineas. Nothing mean
emanated from his words. Daed always said what he thought and did what he said. “We need to make these folks feel welcome.”

“You think a few kind words will make them stay?” Phineas chewed the inside of his lip. No need to get snippy. None of this was Daed’s fault. “Didn’t make the Yoders stay or the Schrocks.”

“Being neighborly goes a long way toward making folks feel like this place could be home despite the way it looks, the way it is.” Daed matched Phineas’s stride. His tone didn’t change, but the gaze he leveled at Phineas said he was counting to ten before he lost patience. “We can’t afford to have any more families leave.”

“Maybe we should let this district die. Maybe that’s Gott’s will.”

“What’s gotten into you?” Daed flung his arm out in a wide arc. “This is home. Our home. We will survive. Leroy won’t let it die. Gott called his daed here. Our family as well.”

Nothing had gotten into Phineas. He loved the land on which he stood. He loved the apiaries. He never wanted to leave. He couldn’t tell his father what really ate at him. “That was a long time ago. Maybe Leroy isn’t listening to what Gott is saying now. Maybe He’s saying, ‘Good job, faithful servant. You can move on now. Go some place where the ground is meant to be tilled and crops reaped.’ ”

“More likely He’s wondering why you’re whining when He’s given us so much. He’s thinking work harder and talk less. He’s thinking He never said this walk on earth would be easy.”

True enough. Daed had that way about him of getting to the kernel of truth that counted. “I’ll check on the hives and feed the chickens. I should probably check on Millie too. She’s to have that foal any day.”

“I did all that already.” Daed twisted a piece of straw between his teeth, then tossed it to the ground in an abrupt motion. “You didn’t die in that accident. Time to get on with things.”

No, Mudder did. Neither would say those words. They never talked about her. “Maybe it would’ve been better if I had.”

“It was Gott’s will that you survive.” Daed’s jaw worked, but his even tone didn’t change. “And I praise Him for that.”

That was Mordecai. A man who could find the good in any situation. He never showed anger. Even when Phineas woke up in the hospital, tied to tubes, his face and head swathed in bandages, his father had expressed no anger at the semitruck driver. He expressed no anger that not one of them had worn seat belts. No anger at the sudden, violent death of his fraa.

Praise
Gott
, he’d muttered over and over again. Mordecai would not have been praising Gott had he known about the last few seconds of his fraa’s life. Phineas shoved aside the thought that accompanied him every waking minute like an unwanted visitor who refused to leave. “A better plan would’ve been to save Mudder and take me.”

“You think you know Gott’s plan?” Daed’s voice dropped to a whisper as if he feared the wrath of God would rain down on his stubborn, belligerent son. “His will, not yours.”

The same answer, always the same answer. “I’ll bring some squash and cucumbers over later. Eve will want to fry up a batch for her company.”

“It’s about what’s inside you, not on the outside. A woman worth her salt will know that.”

Daed didn’t see the look on the girls’ faces. As if they were petrified Phineas would ask one of them out for a walk home after the singing. They were good girls with true hearts, but they couldn’t see past his ugly face. Nor had Daed seen the look on the new girl’s face as she tried to blame her horror on a silly armadillo. No matter what anyone said about appearances when it
came to man-woman things, they mattered. What woman would want hands like his touching her?

“We’re fine just the way we are.”

“You have a birthday coming up.” Daed reminded Phineas of a barnyard dog worrying a big stick. “You’ll be twenty-one.”

“I’m aware.”

“It’s time to start thinking about having your own family.” He threw a glance in Phineas’s direction. “Abigail Lantz has three daughters close to the age.”

“You want me to marry so the district doesn’t die out?”

“Nee
.
I want you to marry and be what Gott intends you to be. A
mann
and a daed.” His father cleared his throat. “I want you to be content.”

Content. Everything Phineas wanted was encompassed in his father’s words, but he’d learned long ago not to hope—or even to think—about such things. To do so was to invite disappointment. “I
am
content.”

At the house, Daed did another about-face.

“Where are you going?”

“To John’s. Don’t bother yourself about the buggy. I’ll take it. We’re invited to supper. I reckon it wouldn’t serve to be disrespectful of their hospitality.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No need.”

“I’ll be fine.” He wanted to do something to make up his failings to Daed. “Like you said, Gott has a plan.”

“The Bible makes it clear. Gott intended for a man to marry.” Daed threw the words over his shoulder as he strode away. “No man wants to be alone forever.”

Phineas didn’t bother to point out Daed should take his own
advice. They were both alone. The fact stood out like poison ivy in a field of clover.

Phineas didn’t mind being alone. They had the bees and the horses and the goats and a couple of cows for fresh milk and a litter of new kittens. The chickens he could’ve done without if it weren’t for the money fresh eggs brought in at the store. They had the rest of the family. Abram had married and soon there would be a grandchild, although not a word had been said of the impending birth. Esther was courting, even if she didn’t want them to know. Samuel and Jacob were hard workers, and their love of a good practical joke kept them all on their toes and laughing around the supper table.
Aenti
Susan made good okra gumbo and better pie. All kinds of pie.

Pie alone made life worth living on a good day.

All this foolishness over fraas was overrated.

The Lantz girls weren’t livestock brought to Bee County to grow the herd and ensure the district’s future. Deborah Lantz’s face, pink with exertion and embarrassment, danced in his mind. Her pretty blue eyes had filled with horror upon seeing his ugly face.

That look said it all.

FOUR

Aware of Stephen’s gaze watching her every move—along with her daughters’ disapproving glances—Abigail leaned past him and picked up his dirty plate. She inhaled his scent of man sweat and soap. He’d sopped up the pulled pork and barbecue sauce with the last of his oversized bun, polishing the plate to a shine. The fried potatoes, pickles, and red beets had disappeared in short order. He liked to eat. Abigail appreciated that in a man. She’d left her home and spent two days in a van filled with unwilling children for this moment.

Stephen smiled up at her as if he knew her thoughts.
Mercy
me.
Despite the years that had passed since they had courted as youth, he still had the same nice smile with even teeth and full lips.
Ach, you’re full of flights of fancy, Abigail
. Hands shaking, she grabbed John’s plate, stacked it on top of Stephen’s and the one in front of Mordecai King.

Susan King, seated next to her brother, stood and picked up her plate. “I’ll help.”

“Nee, my girls will help. You visit.” Abigail cocked her head
toward Deborah. “Help your cousins with the dishes. Come on now, there’s work to be done.”

Without a word, Deborah dropped her half-eaten sandwich on her plate and scooted from the bench where she sat next to Leila and Rebekah at the second table along with two of John’s three girls and Mordecai’s daughter, Esther, on one side and the boys on the other. They were crammed in like peas in a pod at both tables. The entire house seemed to burst at the seams between the three families.

“Nee, nee, y’all just drove halfway across the country to get here.” Eve made shooing motions with red, dishwater-chapped hands. “My girls have got this. Frannie, get a move on. Abigail, you take yourself a piece of pecan pie and go on out to the yard. Take a load off. You got plenty of time for chores tomorrow.”

Her brother had done well for himself. Eve tried so hard to make Abigail feel welcome. The same seemed true of Susan, who would be Caleb’s teacher come fall. The thought gave Abigail comfort. There would be women here to whom she could talk. They would fill the vacuum created when she left behind the tight-knit group of friends she’d been quilting, canning, and sewing with her entire life. “I can’t let you do all the work—”

“We’ll let the girls do the work. Susan and I will oversee.” Eve shooed again. “Cut a piece of pie for Stephen here and get him some more sweet tea. I’m thinking he won’t turn it down.”

“You’d be right about that.” Stephen patted his lips and beard with his napkin and tossed it on the table. “You do make a fine pecan pie. Brings back memories of my
groossmammi’s
pie, rest her sweet soul.”

“I want pie.” Hazel reached for her glass of water with both chubby hands, misjudged the distance, and knocked it over.
Water ran in rivulets across the tablecloth and dripped on Stephen’s pants. Caleb snorted with laughter. Abigail shot him a look. He slapped his hand over his mouth.