Like a Bee to Honey (11 page)

“And you are very much like your
fater
,” Rose said. “I was only fourteen when he died, but I remember him being a very gentle, kind man.”

Josiah nodded. “A
gute
quality for a deacon. I don't know if I am like him, but I hope to be. He was the most patient man I knew. One of my earliest memories of him is when he taught me how to hitch the team to the plow. I don't remember what I did wrong, but Snapper took off into the field, and it took us an hour to round him up. Dat didn't have one angry word for me. A lot of boys got the switch. My
dat
would never have laid a hand on me.”

“My
dat
was like that too. At least that's how I remember him.”

“I'm sure he was,” Josiah said. “If he was anything like you, he was as mild as a summer's day.”

If he kept looking at her like that, she would never be able to draw breath again.

Josiah took her hand and helped her hop across a deep furrow in their path. Was it a bad thing that she was looking forward to the next furrow? “We have a hundred acres of feed corn and nearly a hundred of soybeans.”

“The corn looks to be growing well yet. It's taller than you are.”

He smiled. “We will get a
gute
crop this year, Lord willing. Andrew gave in and let me plant two acres of pumpkins. I am going to plant three more acres next year and maybe more the year after that. I can sell them down south for a
gute
price.”

Honey led the way as they jumped over one more furrow and arrived at Josiah's pumpkin patch, which wasn't far from his house. The pumpkin plants were afire with huge yellow blossoms that were sure to attract bees by the thousands. Rose watched as a honeybee, already covered in dusty, yellow pollen, landed on the nearest pumpkin plant and crawled into the blossom.

“Look,” she said, bending over to see inside. Josiah leaned his head close to hers. “It's like a gold mine for the bee.” She smiled. “Look at her legs. Do you see the pollen baskets?”

“She's got a full load.”

The bee's wings moved so fast they looked like they were vibrating as she took to the air and flew away. “She's going back to the hive,” Rose said. “Did you know it takes two million flowers to make one pound of honey?”

He widened his eyes. “I should plant more roses.”

“I never tire of watching them. They are each tiny miracles from
Gotte
, making honey, helping plants to grow, feeding the world.”

She glanced at Josiah. He had his eyes on her but quickly looked away as if she were a teacher who'd caught him daydreaming during lessons. “I love honeybees,” he said, before clearing his throat and standing up straight. “That's why I want some hives here. They can pollinate the pumpkins and play in Mamm's rose garden when they want a treat.” He pointed to a rise of ground almost smack dab in the middle of the patch. “I thought we could put the hives right there. Is that a
gute
place?”

“
Jah.
They like the sunshine.”

“How many do you think I need?”

“Two or three,” Rose said, her gaze cast in the direction of the house. Birdsong wafted from the tall oak tree standing in his backyard. Closing her eyes, she fell silent and pretended she wasn't afraid of anything. A slight breeze teased an errant strand of hair from her
kapp
and tickled her cheek, and she took in the fresh air tinged with the scent of cornstalks and good black soil.

She pretended she wasn't Josiah's project. That she wasn't a burden on anyone, and that
Gotte
loved her just the way she was. It was a wonderful-
gute
feeling, even if it couldn't last.

She opened her eyes to catch Josiah staring at her again. This time, he didn't look away as his lips formed a cautious smile. “Are you okay? There's water in the house.”

Even though she was his project, it was sort of sweet that Josiah kept trying to give her water. She must look dehydrated. “I should go yet.”

He shook his head as if mad at himself for not thinking of that sooner. “I've been selfish to keep you so long.” He pointed in the direction of his house. “The path is easier this way.”

An easier path meant no hand-holding. How was it possible to feel relieved and disappointed at the same time?

The winding path led to Josiah's back door. “Do you want to come in the house for a drink before you leave?”

She let a smile escape. “
Denki.
I'm not thirsty.”

His blue-eyed gaze was so intense, she thought he might be trying to see through her skull to the back of her head. “Can I . . . I have something for you,” he said. “Can I bring it . . . it's in the house. Can I show you? I'll bring it out.”

She wasn't quite sure what he'd said, so she couldn't do anything but nod.

He opened his back door and disappeared into the house while Honey sat on her haunches and waited patiently for her master to reappear. Rose stroked Honey's head and fretted about Josiah Yoder and his endearing smile.

Josiah returned in less than a minute with a bottle of water and a small tube in his hands. He handed her the bottle of water; then he showed her what was in his other hand. “I hope this is the kind of paint you like,” he said, as if he'd just sprinted a mile. His eyes were deep pools of uncertainty and doubt. “I . . . thought you could use it on your farm scene.”

She felt as if she were slowly sinking, like a buggy stuck in the mud with no way out.

Blue paint.

A small gift filled with terrifying expectations and attached to all sorts of strings.

Her hands shook, and her mind raced. She couldn't accept it, but she couldn't reject it or she'd hurt his feelings. He was, after all, just trying to be a
gute
Christian to poor, helpless Rose Christner.

He studied her face, and his expression fell. “I guess I shouldn't have.”

Ach, du lieva.
She had hurt his feelings. Always a disappointment. Always such a burden. “I'm . . . I'm sorry.” He already knew she didn't want it. She should have just left it at that. But that look on his face felt like being stuck with a hundred pins. She forced her lips into a smile and took the tube from his hand. “It is very thoughtful of you.
Denki.
I like blue. Like your eyes.”

Josiah seemed to expel all the air from his lungs. “You don't have to take this just to make me feel better.” He leaned over to coax her to look him in the eye.

She lowered her gaze even farther, unable to bear to see his disappointment or his condemnation or his frustration. He'd been thoughtful enough to buy her a tube of paint, and she was being incredibly ungrateful. “It's okay, Josiah. I'll take it.”

“Rose,” he said. “What do you want?”

“I've already told you. It's better if I do what you want.”

She could hear the frown in his voice. “It's not better for me. And for sure and certain it's not better for you.”

She would not cry.

Not until she was tucked safely inside her buggy.

She wrapped her fingers around the tube of paint. “I need to go.”

He reached out and cupped his hand around hers. “Wait, Rose. Won't you talk to me?”

Not if he didn't want to see her disintegrate into a puddle of tears. She pressed her lips together and bit down on her tongue.

“But only if you want to,” he said. “Not because you don't want to hurt my feelings. I promise I won't get mad or be sad.” His mouth drooped. “
Ach
. Never mind. I can't promise I won't be sad, but I can promise you are always safe with me.”

Safe? She felt as if she were perched on a precipice, ready to topple into the darkness. No matter what she said, he'd be disappointed or resentful. And he'd pity her or despise her. And she'd deserve it.

But maybe he'd finally leave her be.

A sob nearly escaped her lips at that thought. Why had she come today? She'd wanted to try something brave, but she'd only succeeded in further proving to Josiah that she was weak and helpless and oh so needy. She hated being this way. She hated Josiah's pity.

When she hesitated as if she was considering staying, Josiah shooed Honey out of the way and sat on the top porch step. He gazed at her expectantly. “Please, Rose. Will you talk to me?”

Swallowing her tears, she sat next to him and laid both the water and the paint between them. She pulled her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around her legs, making sure her dress was tucked around her ankles. If only she could make herself smaller—so small that no one could see her.

Josiah's relief was palpable as he rested his elbows on his knees and looked at her. “I've been selfish. I was only thinking about what I wanted when I bought that tube of paint. I wanted to give it to you. I didn't stop to think that maybe you didn't want me to get it. I'm sorry.”

“It's not your fault.”

“You never asked me to come over to your house. I sort of forced myself on you and your family.” He curled one side of his mouth. “And I called Suvie pushy. I'm the pushiest of all.”

“There's no need to blame yourself for my weaknesses.”

“I'm to blame for thinking only of myself.” His blue eyes searched her face. “I want to know what you want. What you truly want, so I can do it for you.” He picked up the tube of paint. “And I am pretty sure it's not blue paint.”

“It doesn't matter.”

He turned his whole body toward her. “To be perfectly honest, Rose, it's the only thing that matters to me.”

Could she trust him with something so deep and personal? She sighed and gazed out over the pumpkin patch. “I don't want to be afraid anymore.”

His gaze grew more intense, as if darkness and light were struggling inside him. “Are you . . . are you afraid of me?”

She pressed her lips together. “I'm afraid of your expectations.”

“What do you mean?”

She had to look away from that piercing gaze. “You want something from me.”

“What do I want?” he said, so softly she almost didn't hear him.

“I don't know. But I am terrified of meeting your expectations.” She wrung her hands together. “Because I can't. No matter what you want, I'll be a disappointment to you. I am a constant disappointment to everyone.”

“You have never been a disappointment to me,” he said.

“Maybe not yet, but I will be. I'm timid. I don't dare talk to boys. I cry at the stupidest things. I am weak when I should be strong. Everything frightens me, but I'm too terrified to change. I can't even gather up enough courage to walk back to the house by myself in broad daylight. I'll disappoint you, Josiah.” The tears would not be stopped. “The burden of your expectations is too great.”

“What if I just want to be your friend?”

She lifted her head and studied his face. “
Do
you just want to be my friend?”

He averted his eyes and rubbed the side of his face as if he were trying to scrub the skin off. “
Nae
. That's not what I want.”

It hurt so much she nearly cried out. She swallowed the pain and nodded her head as the tears flowed down her cheeks. “I'm sorry, Josiah. I don't want to be your project.”

“Rose,” he said, “it's not what you think.” He grazed his thumb along her cheek, wiping off a tear. “Do you remember when my
mamm
died?”

“
Jah.
It was a terrible time for the whole community.”

He gave her a half smile. “The day of the funeral still seems like a dream. All those people came through the house, but I have never felt more alone. My
dat
had died two years earlier. I felt like I was drowning.”

“I'm sorry,” she said. She had barely known her parents. Josiah had lost the biggest part of himself when first his
dat,
then his
mamm,
died.

He looked at her with unmistakable sadness in his eyes. “You are the one thing I remember clearly from that day.”

“Me?”

“You and your sisters stayed to clean up. You were sixteen, so young and so pretty. All the boys thought so.”

Rose pressed her hand to her cheek. He was exaggerating. Josiah had always been nice like that.

“We knew how shy you were. You always stayed close to your sisters and never talked to any of us.” He furrowed his brow. “Until that day.”

She sniffed and wiped at another tear. “I remember you were crying.”

“Most everyone had left, and I was just sitting there alone with a gaping hole in my heart, wondering what was to become of me. I looked up and this beautiful, shy, angelic girl was standing right in front of me. You were afraid to talk to boys, yet you put aside your own fear to comfort me.”

“I couldn't let you carry all that grief by yourself.”

“I knew you were uncomfortable. Your hands trembled. But you were too kind to let me suffer by myself. Do you remember what you said?”

He took off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. “Maybe I remember it for what you didn't say. You didn't say any of the hurtful things that people usually say at funerals. You didn't tell me that my
mamm
was in a better place or that
Gotte
must have needed another angel.” He lowered his eyes and fingered the brim of his hat. “I was so empty and so bitter, and I'm not proud of it, but I was angry at
Gotte
and the bishop and everyone in the district. It felt like they cared more about Levi Junior than they did about my
mamm
. They hardly had two words to say about my
mamm
, but they all said plenty about Levi Junior. ‘Josiah, you know that Levi Junior never meant to hurt anybody.' ‘Levi Junior is a
gute
boy who made a careless mistake.' ‘Of course you'll be a
gute
Christian and forgive Levi Junior in your heart.' ‘Your forgiveness could keep him out of jail.'” Josiah's voice cracked into a million pieces, and he covered his eyes with his free hand.