Beth said, hoping she sounded convincing. “I’m not upset.”
“Ach, Bethany, tell that to someone who doesn’t know you like we do.” Her mother joined in. “Komm now, tell us. Benjy said that Daniel Miller had been here. Did that upset you?”
“No, no, of course not. He just wanted to let me know about how things are at the store.” She hesitated. “Well, and talk about the future, but I... I wasn’t ready to do that. He might have waited.”
Mammi clucked her tongue. “That’s natural enough for him, ain’t so? After all, you are his partner now. He’ll want to know how things are going to change.”
“I suppose so.” She felt a flicker of resentment. She’d expected Mammi to be on her side. Not that there were any sides to it. She’d have to focus on business soon. Just not today. “Well, I can stop by the store sometime soon, but I don’t know much about running it. James always said I had enough to do with the orchard and the garden and Benjy to look after.”
“Yah, that’s so.” Mammi still studied her face. “You’re sure there’s nothing I can help with?”
First Daniel and now Mammi wanting to help. But they couldn’t, even if she told them, and she didn’t intend to do that.
“Nothing,” she said firmly.
Mammi rose. “I won’t tease you to tell me anything you’d rather not. Just remember we’re here, and there are lots of people who love you and want to help.”
Grossmammi reached out to touch Beth’s cheek. Her grandmother had experienced loss, she knew, and Grossmammi’s expression was tinged with sorrow as she looked at Beth. “And God is always ready to listen, ain’t so?”
Beth managed a nod, tears stinging her eyes. She wasn’t sure she even wanted to pray about this burden. Not now. Now she needed to be alone long enough to figure out how this had happened to her.
Beth still had her grandmother’s words in her mind a few days later when she and Benjy walked up to the orchard together. Grossmammi’s advice was good, but Beth’s prayers seemed to bounce around until she wasn’t sure whether she was talking to the Lord or to herself. She prayed for acceptance, and in the next breath she was railing at James for his deception or wondering how she’d failed that he had turned away from her.
“Look, Mammi, look!” Benjy tugged her along, pointing. “Look at the red apples. Is it time to pick them?”
“Some of them.” She steered him away from the McIntosh. They wouldn’t be ready for a few more weeks. “Look at that tree. Those apples are called Honeycrisp. Some of them are ready to pick.”
Running ahead, Benjy threw his arms around the tree in a hug. He looked up into the branches, standing on tiptoe to reach a ripe apple. “Can I pick it? Can I, Mammi?”
“Yah, for sure. Let me show you how.” She closed her hand over his small one. “Twist it just a little while you pull gently. Like this.”
The apple came away in Benjy’s hand, and he held it up with a delighted smile. “I did it.”
Her heart swelled with love. “You did. See if you can reach some other ripe ones. I’ll hold that one.” She picked up the corners of her apron to form a makeshift basket.
Benjy darted off in search of others he could reach, and she picked a few more, inhaling the rich apple scent. It seemed to carry with it a score of memories—her little brothers vying to see how many they could pick, and Daniel, always kind, boosting the smaller ones up to reach.
Funny, that the orchard didn’t carry memories of James. He hadn’t been part of that early childhood, when Daniel as a near neighbor had naturally been there to help her uncle with the picking. James, living with his widowed mother in the center of town, had had no place there. Even after they bought Onkel Isaac’s place, James had left the orchard to her.
So preoccupied was she with memories that she didn’t notice the figure coming toward them until Benjy’s shout.
“Grossdaadi!” He hurtled through the grass, his chubby legs churning, and bolted into her father’s arms. Daadi lifted him over his head, then gave him a hug and set him down.
“Komm, schnell. See all the apples I picked. They’re called Honey...” He looked at his mother.
“Honeycrisp,” she prompted. “Because they’re sweet like honey and crisp when you bite into them.” She polished one against her apron and handed it to him. “Try it.”
Grinning, he bit into it, rewarded by a spurt of juice that dribbled down his chin. “Yummy.” The word was muffled by apple, and she and Daad exchanged a smile.
When Benjy ran off to find some more to pick, her father gestured to the rough-hewn bench Onkel Isaac had built long ago. “Komm. Sit.”
Once they were settled, he glanced around the orchard. “A gut crop of the Honeycrisps this year. You can sell some at the store, ain’t so?”
Beth tensed at the mention of the store, conscious of the fact that she still hadn’t had that talk with Daniel. “Did Mammi talk to you about me?”
He patted her hand. “You can’t keep folks who love you from talking about you. You wouldn’t want to, now would you?”
“I guess not,” she admitted. “I suppose you think I ought to make some decisions about the store, too.”
Her father paused for a moment, as if considering the matter. “You want some time, for sure. But maybe you’re not seeing it from Daniel’s point of view. With James gone, you own his share of the store. It’s natural that Daniel would be anxious about your plans.”
“I guess. But I don’t have any plans, not yet.” If she could be alone in her grief and betrayal...
“Sometimes I think Daniel is married to that store.” Daad’s craggy face softened in a smile. “It’s natural, ain’t so? He doesn’t have a wife and kinder, and his father’s farm will go to his brother. He’s a hard worker. Always has been.”
Was he making a contrast with James? She couldn’t tell. “James did a gut job with the store,” she said, feeling compelled to defend him, despite what she’d learned.
“Ach, yah, I’m not saying he didn’t. All the more reason why Daniel wants to know what your plans are.”
Daadi studied her face, maybe looking for a sign that she agreed. Then he glanced at the apples again.
“I’ll send some of the family over tomorrow to help you do a first picking of apples. Then, if you want to sell them...” He waited, looking at her.
“Yah, all right.” There was no getting out of it. “The Honeycrisp should be eaten when they’re ready, since they aren’t such gut keepers. We’ll give some to the family.” She forced herself to smile. “And I’ll talk to Daniel about selling them.”
“Gut.”
