A Bee in Her Bonnet (31 page)

Chapter Two

Gasping in pain, Josiah tried to shake the cat gently from his leg. Rose had a tender heart for all living creatures. She would be unhappy if he kicked out and sent the cat flying.

The cat didn't budge.

Josiah reached down and tried to wrench it away from his leg without taking several chunks of flesh with him, but the cat's claws were buried deep, as if he were holding on for dear life. An orange-marmalade ball of fur bounded across the lawn and started climbing Josiah's other leg. This one was a cute little kitten with sharp, not-so-cute claws that made Josiah flinch when they punctured his leg.

The kitty, making its way up Josiah's trousers, would surely fall if Josiah made any sudden movements, and the ugly black-and-white cat had decided to park on Josiah's foot with its claws firmly embedded in Josiah's shin.

Another cat, milky white and elegant, sauntered across the lawn and planted itself at Josiah's feet. It rolled onto its back and looked up at Josiah with a mixture of disdain and indignation, as if she had a plan to make Josiah very sorry for intruding.

Either the cats were trying to keep him from escaping or they were overjoyed to see him. He couldn't imagine they were overjoyed. He barely knew any of them.

The Honeybee Schwesters were a good twenty yards off so he couldn't hear what they said to each other, but at least they had noticed he was in trouble. Poppy nudged Rose and gestured toward him with her smoker. Rose hesitated, then stepped away from the hives and removed her long canvas gloves and beekeeper's hat to reveal her golden hair tied up with a light pink scarf and her cheeks tinted an appealing shade of red.

His heart did a flip, three somersaults, four push-ups, several cartwheels, and a double back handspring.

Rose Christner was coming to his rescue.

His mouth went dry as he thought of about a million things he wanted to say to her, and—oh,
sis yuscht
—he had suddenly lost the power of speech.

She glanced at him and gave him a tentative half smile before turning her attention to the cats. “Billy Idol, Leonard Nimoy, you naughty, naughty kitties.” She knelt on the ground and carefully detached the orange kitten's claws from Josiah's trousers. He'd made it all the way up to Josiah's knee.

“He's a
gute
climber,” Josiah said, trying to sound cheerful and meek, but not too eager, all at the same time. Mostly, he sounded gravelly, like he'd swallowed a cup of rocks for breakfast.

Rose nuzzled the kitten's soft head against her cheek. “I hope she didn't hurt you. Leonard Nimoy is just learning her manners, and Billy Idol is a bad influence.”

“No harm done,” he said, wishing she'd turn her gaze to him and give him a glimpse of those eyes that were as blue as ice on Lake Michigan. “Is the kitten a female?”

She finally looked at him. He tried to act like nothing important had just happened, even though his head spun like a washing machine in a tornado.

“Jah,” she said, looking away as soon as their eyes met. “Aunt Bitsy named her Leonard Nimoy after a movie star, but she's a girl.” Rose set Leonard Nimoy on the grass and shook her finger when the kitten tried to scale Josiah's leg again. “
Nae
, Leonard Nimoy. Leave Josiah be.”

Josiah liked the way she talked to the cats, as if they were adorable and she loved them with all her heart, but there was nothing adorable about the black-and-white cat still clinging to his trousers. Rose smoothed her hand over the cat's blotchy fur. “Billy Idol, there's no need to attack people. You're being a very bad example to Leonard Nimoy.”

“Billy Idol?”

A cautious smile flitted across Rose's face. “Aunt Bitsy named all our cats.”

She gently but firmly pried Billy Idol from Josiah's other leg. The cat snarled as she wrapped her arms around him and cuddled him like a newborn
buplie
.

One of Billy Idol's ears was split down the middle and his right eye only opened halfway. His nose was also scarred, and his coat looked as if he'd been in a few catfights where fur had literally been flying. His upper lip was permanently lifted into a sneer by a scar that ran down the side of his mouth.

“I'm sorry if they hurt you,” Rose said. She secured Billy Idol in one arm and scooped the white cat, which was still rolling around in the grass, with the other hand. “Farrah Fawcett isn't usually so friendly.”

Friendly? If this was friendly, he had no desire to see hostile.

“I don't mind,” Josiah said. “I'm not sure why all three of your cats suddenly took a liking to me.” Or how he could get Rose to do the same thing.

Her lips twitched with uncertainty. “Well, you are a very nice boy.”

Really? She thought he was a very nice boy? He cleared his throat in an attempt to keep his voice from betraying his elation. “You're the one who's nice. My sister can't stop talking about that chocolate cake you baked for her family.” He threw caution to the wind and sat cross-legged next to her in the grass. Surely she wouldn't mind if he sat beside her instead of towering over her.

Rose tensed and clutched Billy Idol and Farrah Fawcett closer.

Josiah's heart sank.
Nae.
She didn't like that better at all.

To his added horror, all three cats chose that moment to resume their attack. Either they were incredibly protective of Rose, or it just wasn't Josiah's day. Leonard, the girl kitten, catapulted herself toward Josiah and gave his forearm four deep scratches trying to catch herself. Billy Idol struggled out of Rose's arms and practically vaulted into Josiah's lap where he sunk his tiny teeth into Josiah's pocket. Farrah Fawcett also jumped onto Josiah's lap and dug her claws into his leg. Josiah shouted in surprise and leaped to his feet, making all three cats tumble like balls of yarn off an Amish
mammi'
s lap.

“Ach, du lieva!”
Rose said.

Not only had he sat too close to Rose without her permission, but he had also unintentionally upset her beloved cats. He might never be allowed on the farm again.

Rose pursed her lips, and her blue eyes turned dark with distress. She scooped Leonard Nimoy into her arms. “Are you all right?”

Josiah paused for a second until he realized Rose was talking to him and not the kitten. He swiped his hand across his forearm, hopefully erasing any evidence that Leonard Nimoy had drawn blood. He didn't want Rose to worry. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean for them to fall like that.”

She seemed more concerned for his feelings than her own. “Please don't worry. Cats always land on their feet.” They both looked down at Billy Idol. He was rolling around in the grass. “I don't know why they went crazy like that.”

Poppy and Lily, Rose's always-protective sisters, must have recognized that Josiah had tangled himself into some sort of impossible knot. They set down their smokers, took off their hats and gloves, and were at Rose's side in less time than it would have taken Billy Idol to stab his teeth into Josiah's neck.

Poppy's unruly hair was tied up in a royal-blue scarf, and she wore a thick cast on her right hand. She'd broken her hand a week ago punching an
Englischer
in the mouth—an
Englischer
named Griff Simons who had tried to give Rose a kiss.

Lily wore a bright yellow scarf with a white zip-up jacket. They stood on either side of Rose and eyed Josiah as if he were a horse at auction. “It's
gute
to see you, Josiah,” Lily said. She even acted like she meant it.

Poppy folded her arms and cocked an eyebrow while amusement and annoyance made an uneasy truce on her face. “Need some help, Josiah?”

Of course he needed help. Rose was nervous, the cats had gone crazy, and he had several puncture wounds in his legs—not to mention the blood that was slowly dripping down his arm courtesy of Leonard Nimoy. He quickly slid his arm behind his back.

It would be best if he went away and tried again tomorrow. Was there a nice, nonthreatening activity he could do with Rose? Would she like sitting next to him on the porch while he read from the dictionary?

Nae.
She got anxious when he got too close.

“I'm wonderful sorry about disturbing you,” he said, pulling the drawstring bag from his pocket and handing it to Poppy. “Luke asked me to bring this to you. He said you need it for a recipe.”

Poppy put the bag to her nose and rolled her eyes. “That boy!” she said, but there was affection behind her aggravated tone. Luke Bontrager drove her crazy, but she was still madly in love with him. “Doesn't he know what basil is?”

Lily grinned while keeping her eyes glued to Josiah's face. “He's better with tools.”

“It isn't basil?” Josiah asked.

Poppy closed the bag and looped the drawstring around her finger. “It's catnip. No wonder the cats are so interested.”

Lily and Poppy shared a look that Josiah knew wasn't meant for him to see. “Maybe Luke is smarter than we think,” Lily said.

Poppy winked at Lily. “The smartest.”

Lily's expression was one of pure, unsympathetic pity. “He sent you into the lion's den with a pocketful of catnip. No wonder the cats attacked.”

“I'm sorry about my thick-headed fiancé,” Poppy said, not acting sorry at all.

Josiah wasn't sure what to think. The catnip had attracted the cats, and the cats had attracted Rose. He'd actually had a conversation with Rose Christner because of Luke's catnip.

And that was probably Luke's intent all along.

Luke thought Josiah was slower than cold tar on a frosty morning when it came to courting Rose. Perhaps Luke was trying to speed things up.

Josiah didn't know whether to be offended or grateful that Luke had stuck his nose into Josiah's business. He'd have a few scars, that was certain, but Rose had said more to him in that one conversation than she had in almost four years combined. He wanted to give Luke a big hug. And then punch him.

He wiped a grin off his face. With friends like Luke, who needed a meddling
mammi
?

Rose gasped. “You're bleeding.”

Oy
, anyhow. He should have left his hand behind his back so Rose wouldn't be upset. He studied the smear of blood on his forearm.
Ach.
He probably had a
gute
-sized spot of blood on the back of his shirt from trying to hide his injured arm.

“It's nothing,” he said, giving Rose the most reassuring smile he could muster. “Doesn't even hurt.”

Poppy glanced sideways at Rose. “Josiah, you should put some ointment on that. It looks like it really hurts, and I'd hate to see you get an infection.” Josiah gaped at Poppy. He had never seen such consideration from her before. She was more likely to tell him to go rub some dirt in it.

“
Jah
. It looks very bad,” Rose said, her eyes alight with sympathy. She wrapped her fingers around Poppy's wrist. “Will you go help him wash it out? I would feel terrible if it got infected.”

Poppy waved her substantial cast in the air. “I've only got one good hand.”

“It's not that bad,” Josiah said. “I'll rinse it in the hose when I get home.” He'd have to be tricky and leave without turning his back on them. Rose would probably faint if she saw the blood on the back of his shirt.

Rose's lips drooped. “I'm sure it hurts something wonderful. You need special ointment.” She looked at Lily. “Can you take Josiah into the house and bandage it up?”

Lily was already strolling the other way, smiling like Billy Idol with a mouth full of mouse. “I've got to get back to the bees.”

Rose glanced at Josiah and nibbled on her bottom lip as the tiny lines around her eyes crinkled with worry. “It was Leonard Nimoy's fault. We should see that Josiah is taken care of.”

Poppy waved the bag of catnip in Farrah Fawcett's direction. “I'll take care of the cat problem.” She scooped some catnip from the little bag, crumbled it in her hand like dry bread, and let it fall to the ground as she walked away. All three cats followed her. Billy Idol meowed and carried on as if she were dragging him by the tail.

Josiah frowned to himself. Didn't Rose's
schwesters
see how unsettled she was? Couldn't one of them sacrifice two minutes of her time to take him into the house and slap a Band-Aid on his arm? Rose would feel better if he had a Band-Aid.

Rose fingered a strand of hair at the nape of her neck. He did his best not to be distracted by the graceful curve of her fingers or her hair the color of white clover honey.

Josiah took a handkerchief out of his pocket and swiped it across the scratch. He grimaced. The attempt to wipe it away smeared the blood across his arm and made it look ten times worse. “I'll go straight home and wash this out with soap. It's not deep. Leonard Nimoy is just a kitten.”

Rose eyed him as if he might bite her. How was he ever going to convince her to love him when he saw nothing but uncertainty in her eyes? He swallowed the lump of despair in his throat and took two steps backward. “It was wonderful-
gute
to see you, Rose.
Denki
for saving me from the cats.”

“Will you be able to work the fields today?”

He nodded. “I'll be sure to wrap it up.”

The troubled, vulnerable look on Rose's face made him ache to gather her in his arms and reassure her that she could be certain of him, that things weren't as bad as she seemed to think they were. But something told him that ambushing Rose wouldn't be a
gute
idea. Not a
gute
idea at all. He couldn't prove his love if she ran screaming for the hills.