A Bee in Her Bonnet (15 page)

What did she care if Luke never wanted to eat her bread again? And what did she need with a drill? She'd gotten along just fine without one for twenty-one years.

He'd told her he was done with her.

Well, she was done with him.

Without another word, she turned her back on Dan and Aunt B and fled to the safety of the house.

No one would ever see her cry over a boy—especially the boy who hated her so much he wouldn't even eat her bread.

She hated him right back.

Chapter Twelve

Luke had been frowning for four days straight. Thanks to Poppy Christner, the expression was probably etched into his face forever. It was bad enough that Poppy had ruined a perfectly
gute
Friday. Now she invaded his thoughts every waking hour, putting him in a bad mood on a permanent basis. Why did he let a stubborn tomboy irritate him like that?

He stood in the checkout line at Walmart, gripping the handle of his shopping cart as if trying to squeeze all the water out of it. He'd done the right thing, getting his money back for that drill. It was sitting in Walmart's return bin, waiting to be put back on the shelf to be bought by some other boy who wanted to do something nice for someone who didn't appreciate it. Dangerous tools should be kept out of Poppy's hands. Someone could get hurt.

He squeezed the cart handle until his knuckles turned white. If only he could get those green eyes or that look she gave him out of his head—a look of pain so deep he could have gone swimming in it.

The line inched forward. A hundred registers at Walmart and only two were ever open. The slow line only served to compound Luke's bad mood. His driver waited in the car, and the work piled up in his shop. How was he supposed to get any furniture built waiting in this eternally long line with Poppy sticking to his brain like a cocklebur?

He glanced to his right to see if there was another check stand open.
Ach, du lieva.
Poppy's Aunt Bitsy stood not ten feet away looking at a display of nail polish. She shouldn't have been there. Hadn't anyone told her that Amish women didn't wear nail polish? The second-to-last person Luke wanted to run into at Walmart was Bitsy Kiem. She'd probably give him a lecture right there in the checkout line, though Luke hadn't done anything to deserve it. He'd gotten after Poppy for risking her life. Bitsy should thank him for talking some sense into her niece.

He crowded his cart into the person in front of him and ducked behind the tall aisle of candy that divided the checkout rows. He didn't have to stoop very low to avoid being seen. If the cashier would go a little faster, Luke could get out of there without Bitsy being any wiser.

A voice from above his head gave him a start. “Afraid to show your face, Luke Bontrager?”

He looked up. Bitsy was poking her head over the display and looking at him as if she'd just caught a robber in the act. Had she scaled the candy display like a mountain? Or maybe she was standing in a cart. Bitsy never did anything predictable.

“Bitsy,” he said. “You're going to fall.”

“I'm quite secure, unless this conveyor belt starts moving.” Narrowing her eyes, she propped her elbows on top of the display and smashed two packages of oatmeal cookies, individually wrapped. “You've really done it this time, Luke Bontrager.”

He pretended not to know what she was talking about. “I think you'd better get down before they ask you to leave the store.”

“Don't play dumb with me. Poppy came home in quite a state the other day. Wet, bleeding, and limping. You are a very bad influence.”

Luke growled quietly. The cashier called someone for a price check. He'd never get out of here. “I told her not to go in the ditch. I got mad at her for risking her life. I'd think you'd be grateful.”

Bitsy looked up at the fluorescent lighting. “Dear Lord, these boys are as thick as the ice on Lake Michigan. Could You please send me something I can work with?”

Bitsy's ingratitude made Luke feel especially petulant. “There is no ice on Lake Michigan. It's summertime.”

She puckered her lips to one side of her face and looked up at the ceiling again. “Dear Lord, these boys are as thick as the scum on Cobbler Pond. What is an
aendi
to do?” She eyed Luke. “It wonders me why you told my Poppy you hate her.”

His stomach dropped to the floor. He shouldn't have said that, no matter how angry he had been. “She said it first.”

“So now you're in second grade?”

Luke pressed his lips together and glanced around him. Several people stared at the crazy Amish lady standing on the conveyor belt. Others watched Luke as if he might suddenly decide he hated all Walmart shoppers. Holding his head up high, he pushed his cart closer to the man in front of him. “It was nice to see you, Bitsy,” he said, lying through his teeth. Hopefully she'd take the hint that the conversation was over or at least take the hint to climb down from the counter.

She did neither. “I know your
mamm
raised you better than to yell at a girl.”

He slowly hissed the air from his lungs and gave up caring what anyone else in the store was thinking. Most people thought the Amish were strange anyway. “She could have died. A woman should never put herself in danger. A man should be the one to do it.”

Bitsy leaned farther over the display. The cookies flattened like pancakes. “Would you have let the kittens die?”

Luke didn't want to answer that. Nobody looked kindly on the thought of dead kittens, except maybe Griff Simons.

Bitsy shook her head. “All this talk about man's work and woman's work is really starting to irritate me.”

To Luke's relief, someone in Customer Service started yelling. “Ma'am, ma'am. You can't be up there.”

Bitsy looked in the direction of whoever did the yelling, groaned, and disappeared from sight.
Gute
. Luke wasn't really enjoying that conversation very much.

He started putting his purchases on the conveyor belt when Bitsy nudged her way up in his line, grabbed his shopping cart, and pulled it backward. Before he could stop her, she pulled the cart out of line and pushed it down the aisle with amazing speed. She didn't run, but Bitsy Kiem could sure walk fast. Luke had no choice but to follow her. He'd spent a great deal of time filling that cart.

But he'd lost his place in line.

Ach
. Bitsy proved almost as aggravating as her niece.

He eventually caught up with her. His legs were longer, after all. “Bitsy, what are you doing? Give me back my cart.”

She held up her hand when he tried to take control of the cart. Would he get kicked out of the store if he wrestled Bitsy for his own shopping cart? Even if he managed to get his cart back, something told him crossing Bitsy would be unwise.

She turned two corners and stopped in front of the book display. “Hold this,” she said, handing him a small bottle.

“What is it?”

“Black fingernail polish. All the vampires wear it. I'm doing some research for my book.” She also sported a tiny glittering tattoo on her left forearm. Luke couldn't be sure, but it looked like a horse with wings. It matched the blue tint of her gray hair.

Bitsy took a Bible from the shelf. Luke raised an eyebrow. He didn't know they sold copies of the Bible at Walmart. She leafed through the pages until she found what she was looking for, handed him the open book, and pointed to a verse in Matthew. “Read this.”

“Look, I know Poppy was upset, but I don't really have time to read the Bible with you right now.”

“What makes you think Poppy was upset? She's not made of eggshells, and she couldn't care less what you think of her.” She pointed to the Bible again. “I'm only concerned for your welfare, Luke. No girl will be able to stand you if you don't stop being such a clod.”

“Dinah Eicher likes me just fine.”

“That's because she hasn't gotten to know you yet.”

She kept pointing, and Luke finally gave in. If he read the verses, maybe she'd release his kidnapped cart.

“
Then shall the King say unto them on his right hand, Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world: For I was an hungred, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in: Naked, and ye clothed me: I was sick and ye visited me: I was in prison and ye came unto me.”
Luke looked up. “That's wonderful-
gute
, Bitsy. Can I go now?”

Bitsy narrowed her eyes and pressed her lips together. “Have a little patience. According to that scripture, who will inherit the kingdom of God?”

“The people who serve their fellow man. They serve Jesus and don't even realize it.”

She very nearly smiled. “Very
gute
. What kind of service did they do?”

Luke huffed out a breath. “Why are we standing in Walmart having this conversation?”

“Would you rather sit?”

He scrubbed his hand down the side of his face. One more minute of this, and he would take his cart back by force if he had to.

“What kind of service did they do for Jesus?” she repeated.

“They fed people who were hungry, gave clothes to people who didn't have any. Cared for the sick, took strangers in,” he recited, hoping if he said the right thing she'd let him go.

She tapped her finger on the page he'd just read. “Women's work, Luke. They got into the kingdom of heaven by doing what you call women's work.”

Luke frowned and studied the verses again. “I suppose they did.”

“Do you think you're better than Poppy because you're a boy?”

He thought of Poppy's determination to defend those weaker than herself, her reckless desire to jump in and help, no matter the consequences. Her refusal to back down to anybody, including Luke. “I'm not better than anyone.”

She squinted at him. “But you think boys are better in general.”

Luke nearly choked on the lump in his throat. Was that what Bitsy thought of him? “
Nae
, I don't.”

“Of course you do. You talk about women's work like it's beneath you. You yell at girls for doing brave things. You think they're too stupid to use drills.”

“I never said Poppy was too stupid to use a drill.”

Her glare could have peeled the varnish off a newly laid wood floor. “In your anger, I think you did.”

Deciding he'd rather sit after all, he lowered himself to a cardboard box stacked in a display of luggage in the middle of the aisle. “What if Poppy drilled a hole in her finger with that drill? I would be responsible. Me and no one else. What if she had drowned? It would have been my fault, and I don't know if I would have been able to live with myself.” He swiped his hand across his forehead. “I can barely live with myself as it is.”

Bitsy folded her arms across her chest. “You've taken burdens on your shoulders that aren't yours to carry.”

“Maybe you don't know anything, Bitsy Kiem.”

She huffed out a breath. “I know a whole lot more than you. You're too big for your britches. That's been your problem all along.” She snatched both the Bible and the black fingernail polish from Luke's hands. She put the Bible back on the shelf, gave Luke an I've-given-up-on-you look, and walked away, leaving him in blessed, uncomfortable peace.

Thankfully, she left the cart. Wrestling Bitsy to the ground would not have been a pretty sight.

Chapter Thirteen

Perry Glick scowled as if he had a sour stomach. “Is this all you want?”

“Jah”.
Poppy pressed her lips together as she handed him a five-dollar bill.
“Denki,”
she added as an afterthought. No matter how much she disliked the entire Glick family, she should at least try to be polite.

Perry counted out her change so slowly, she wondered if he had fallen asleep.
Nae
, he wanted to irritate her. She could see it in the set of his jaw. It was only to be expected. Not only had Lily broken up with Perry's brother three weeks ago, but she had also sold all their honey to another buyer, severely cutting into the Glicks' profit margin. Paul had been as mad as a grasshopper on a skillet, and the Glicks tended to hold grudges.

It was probably a good thing Perry was the one working the cash register today. Paul might have yelled at her or called her to repentance for being a tomboy. Paul and Luke Bontrager both thought Poppy was a disgrace. How funny that even though Paul and Luke hated each other, they had one thing in common. They both hated Poppy.

Ever since Lily's breakup with Paul, Poppy and her sisters had done their best to avoid Glick's Amish Market. They either took a buggy to the Lark Country Store in Bonduel or hired a driver to take them to the Walmart in Shawano. But Poppy hadn't had time for either today. She'd only needed a few measly chocolate chips.

Perry sort of shoved the change into Poppy's hand. “I hope you Christners can live with yourselves knowing you cheated our family out of the honey.”

Ach
, Poppy would have loved to give Perry Glick a big piece of her mind. She had a feeling that the Glicks were circulating all sorts of lies about her family. They'd done the same to Dan's family for several years. But yelling at Perry wouldn't solve anything, and some cockamamie story about Poppy would be all over the community in a matter of hours. Perry would probably tell people that she had attacked him or punched him in the face. She'd punched boys before. People would be inclined to believe it.

She smiled her nastiest smile as she stuffed her money and the chocolate chips into her apron pocket. “Don't worry about us, Perry. We made a very nice profit on our honey this year. If you ever need some, you can find it at Carole Parker's store in Shawano. Carole says she's almost sold out already.”

Perry's scowl was so deep, she'd probably be able to see it etched into the back of his head if he turned around. “Cheaters never prosper.”

“I agree,” she said.

She turned around and walked out, making a mental note that Rose should never be allowed to go to the market. She'd be upset for days.

Outside in front of the market, a little
Englisch
boy sprawled on the sidewalk, kicking and screaming as if he were being tortured. A woman, who must have been his mother, was also screaming. “Get up, you little brat. Get up now or I'll spank you so hard you won't sit down for a week. Get up!”

The woman yanked the boy by the arm and pulled him to his feet. Poppy flinched. The roughness made her shoulder ache in sympathy. The little boy screamed louder and tried to escape his mother's grasp. The mother retaliated by pulling her son close and spanking him two, three, four times hard on the bottom.

Poppy held her breath. Her heart raced, and for a split second she thought of walking away. She didn't want a confrontation. She wasn't good in confrontations. But she'd never before stood by while a little child got hurt. This wasn't one of the
kinner
on the playground being picked on by one of the older kids. This was a little boy and his mother. What should she do?

Despite what Luke Bontrager thought, Poppy had learned by hard experience in school that she couldn't make things better with brute force or even a swift punch to the nose. Violence almost always made things worse.

With her heart beating in her throat, Poppy laid a gentle hand on the mother's arm. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

The mother snapped her head around to look at Poppy. “Don't you dare judge me,” she said with rage and defiance blazing in her eyes.

“I'm not judging. I only wondered if you—”

Poppy didn't get another word out of her mouth. The mother drew back her hand and slapped her hard across the face. Poppy felt more shocked than hurt. Had a grown woman just hit her?

“Leave me alone,” the mother shrieked as she marched away, dragging her still-struggling son with her.

That didn't quite go the way Poppy had hoped.

Her eyes stung and her cheek felt as if it were on fire. She put her good hand to her face, wishing it were wintertime so she could scoop up a handful of snow from the sidewalk and soothe the burning.

With her fingers pressed against her cheek, she made the mistake of glancing across the street at something in her peripheral vision. Luke Bontrager stood just outside the door to the harness shop with his fists clenched at his sides, staring at her as if she'd just shoved one of his sisters into the ditch.

She quickly looked away. If she ignored him, she wouldn't have to hear a lecture about how disgusted he felt that she had interfered in someone else's business and gotten herself slapped.

Not a very
gute
day in town today. She'd been accused by Perry Glick, slapped by an angry
Englischer
, and frowned at by Luke Bontrager.

It made her sick to admit it, but the frown hurt the worst.

Not a
gute
day at all. The angry mother, with her son cradled in her arms, came walking back down the sidewalk, probably gearing up to slap Poppy across her other cheek. Her heart sped to a gallop. At least she'd get some practical experience at turning the other cheek.

Poppy took three steps backward. She should just walk away quickly. Turning the other cheek would really hurt.

The mother reached out her hand. “Wait, please. I'm sorry.”

Not altogether sure she shouldn't turn and run, Poppy stood her ground as the mother got closer. To her surprise, every trace of anger had disappeared from the mother's face. “I . . . I'm so sorry,” she said, her eyes moist with unshed tears. “I was angry, and you took me by surprise. I was just so angry.”

“Okay,” Poppy said.

The woman scooted her son farther up her hip. Her whole body seemed to tremble. “I have never slapped anybody before. Nobody in my entire life. I'm so, so sorry.”

Poppy nodded and tried her best to smile with a swollen cheek and a wounded heart. “
Cum
sit,” she said, putting her good arm around the mother's shoulders and leading her to the bus stop bench just a few steps from the market. They sat down together. “I'm sorry to interfere where I maybe shouldn't have. I didn't mean any disrespect.”

“Don't apologize. I'm grateful you tried to help. I lost control. I just needed a nice stranger to pull me out of it.” The little boy whimpered softly and laid his head on his mother's chest. The woman glanced down at her son and began stroking his hair.

“I'm sure it's hard to be a mother sometimes,” Poppy said.

The woman sighed. A single tear plopped on the back of her son's shirt. “It's not that. My son was diagnosed with autism yesterday.”

“Oh,” Poppy said. “I didn't know. I'm sorry.”

“For the last twenty-four hours, I've felt like I've been in a trash compactor. The world is crushing me and all the dreams I've ever had for my son.” Her voice cracked, and she buried her face in her hand. “There's no way out, ya know?”

Poppy gave her shoulder a squeeze. “That is terrible. I would have slapped me too.”

She shook her head. “There is no excuse for that. I shouldn't have tried to take him out today. But I wanted to get out of the trash compactor for a few hours. My husband doesn't want to talk about it. He thinks if he ignores it, it will go away. But it's not going away.”

Poppy gave her a sad smile. “There is a boy in our district who is autistic. We call him one of the special children. There is nobody anyone loves more.
Gotte
sent him to you for a reason. Maybe you have to find different dreams.”

“I suppose I do.” She stood up. Her son wrapped his arms around her neck and rested his head on her shoulder.

Poppy stood with her. “I can tell your son loves you.”

“Thanks for stopping me before I did something I would have regretted.”

“You're welcome.”

The woman eyed Poppy's cheek and frowned. “Well, I did do something I regret.”

“But I'm a grown-up. If slapping me kept you from slapping your son, I'm willing to be the one to take it.”

“It won't happen again.”

Poppy smiled. “I know. I can see it in your eyes.”

She returned the smile. “Thank you. It's going to be okay.”

“Yes, it is.”

The woman carried her son to a car parked on the street, put him in, and buckled him up. She waved to Poppy before pulling from the curb and driving away.

Her cheek didn't hurt so bad anymore. Sometimes the heartbreak was just too hard to bear on one's own. That's why Jesus said to turn the other cheek. You never knew how much another person was hurting.

She looked across the street. Luke had disappeared.

It was turning out to be not such a bad day after all.