The Haven (24 page)

For the second time that morning, Amos’s eyes pricked with tears. He looked down to blink them away. To his shock, he discovered that his hand had gripped Fern’s, just the way he used to hold Maggie’s hand.

The last day of school was right around the corner—just two days away. The scholars had been working hard to prepare a program for the parents. They had learned several new songs to sing. A few students had memorized poems to recite. This was going to be the best program Twin Creeks had ever presented to parents. The children had worked so hard to get everything just right.

Alice Smucker, M.K. thought darkly, had never bothered with doing anything new for the parent programs. Not once. The same five carols were sung for the Christmas program, the same five hymns sung for the end-of-year program. Boring! And poetry, to Alice, was fanciful nonsense. Gideon disagreed. So this year, M.K. volunteered to recite the longest poem she could find:
The Raven
by Edgar Allen Poe. She didn’t understand much of it, but it fit in nicely with the falcons living on her farm, and she was determined to memorize it.

Just before Gideon dismissed the class, he mentioned that he hoped they could have a picnic after the program, but a tree limb from the big oak tree had fallen on the playground in last night’s rainstorm. “Until we get that limb removed and hauled away, we aren’t going to be able to have a picnic like we had planned.”

Amidst the scholars’ disappointed groans, a crackerjack idea bubbled up inside of M.K. She raised her hand to the ceiling. “We can have it at my house! Windmill Farm is just down the street.”

Gideon looked skeptical. “Maybe you should ask your father first.”

Ask Sadie, was what he meant. “It’s no problem at all! Dad loves having folks over and Fern is a fine cook.”

Gid hesitated. “Are you sure, Mary Kate?”

“Absolutely!”

Reluctantly, Gideon agreed. M.K. was thrilled! It would be so much fun to have the entire class, and parents and siblings, to her house for a picnic! Gid dismissed everyone and she rushed out of the classroom, catching up with Ruthie to walk home together. They had plans to go spy on Eve in the falcon scape and see if they could spot her babies.

And M.K. promptly forgot all about the picnic.

Amos felt like his old, pre-heart-trouble self. So good that he wanted to celebrate. At breakfast, he asked M.K., “After the end-of-year program tomorrow, did Gid make plans for a picnic lunch for the scholars?”

M.K.’s eyes went wide. She grabbed a spoonful of yogurt to plop in her granola, stalling for time. “Actually, I might have . . . possibly . . . volunteered our house for lunch.” She gave a sideways glance in Fern’s direction at the other side of the table.

In the middle of spooning out a segment of grapefruit, Fern froze.

“That’s a fine idea!” Amos said, pleased.

Fern gave M.K. a look. “And when were you going to spring that on me?”

M.K. scratched her forehead. “I guess I forgot to tell you.” She dug into her bowl of granola. “Families will bring things! It’ll be easy.”

Amos rubbed his hands together. “Tell Gid we’ll handle barbecuing chickens if everyone else can bring the extras. They can come here right after the program. And tell him Fern will make her good baked beans and coleslaw too. We’ll cook everything.”

“We?” Fern asked, raising an eyebrow. “
We
will cook everything?”

Amos grinned. “And tell Gid that I’m thinking it would be nice to have a softball game too.” He loved playing sports with children. When his children were little, he would tear around the bases with one of them tucked under his arm. Even when his own children had outgrown the crook in his arm, he would find a neighbor’s toddler to tote. When he became ill, it was one of the things he missed most.

Fern and Sadie spent the rest of the afternoon cooking up baked beans, preparing chickens for the barbecue, cutting cabbage for coleslaw. Amos and Will cleaned out the barbecue pit, swept the volleyball court, and prepared bases for the softball game. Amos couldn’t remember when he had last felt so lighthearted.

The next day, midmorning, parents crammed into the back of the schoolhouse to hear the scholars’ recitations and hymn singing. Even Alice, Gid’s sister, hobbled in on her crutches and the children politely welcomed her. M.K. kept her distance from Alice’s crutches. She was convinced that Alice Smucker had it in for her, and Amos had to admit that Alice wore a pained expression on her face whenever she caught sight of M.K. Especially pained as M.K. delivered her long and unusual blackbird poem.

Afterward, children and parents poured over to Windmill Farm for the barbecue. Fern and Sadie had skipped the program so they could start the chickens on the barbecue. Amos smelled that sweet, tangy smell all the way down the road. He smiled. Behind him, he heard a firecracker go off, which meant Jimmy Fisher was nearby. In front of him, he saw Annie walking up the hill, holding the baby in her arms so that Sadie could cook. Today was a wonderful day.

While everyone ate lunch on blankets on the grass, Amos went to mark out the baselines for the softball game in the gravel driveway. Home base was the tall maple tree in the front yard. The bases were old goose-down pillows that Fern donated to the cause. Gid pitched, Will caught, and Amos helped the six-and-under crowd at bat. When they hit the ball, Amos would scoop the toddler under his arm and run around the bases, pumping and wheezing, red-faced and panting. He was having the time of his life.

Little by little, mothers and fathers made noise about heading home and choring, so the scholars started to reluctantly clear out. Gid remained behind, having a casual back-and-forth toss with Will. They didn’t have ball gloves, so you could hear the smack of the ball in the heel of the hand. No one paid them any mind, until the sound of the smack got louder. Then louder still. The ball was a blur between them now. Gid was red in the face. Will’s upper arm strained and glistened.

Then Gid threw a little wild and caught Will’s guard down. The ball popped him in the stomach and Will let out a loud “ooof” sound. He doubled over like a deflated beach ball. Then he fell back and splayed as he hit the ground, grinning. The few stragglers who had remained stood around laughing at Will’s exaggerated antics.

Will popped up his head and peered at Gid. “Looks like you throw a pitch the way you put together a cradle.”

Gid’s face tightened.

Quick as a flock of sparrows, the laughs were gone.

Gid took out after Will, sprinting like a panther across the yard. Dust rose behind him. Will had just enough time to make that come-and-get-me gesture with both hands. Then they were squaring off, but not throwing punches yet. Gid pushed Will’s shoulders and he fell on the ground.

“Are you crazy?” Will yelled, scrambling to his feet. “What’s that for?”

“That’s for wrecking the petit fours,” Gid growled.

“The what?” Will growled. “I don’t even know what pettyfours are!”

Gid grabbed Will in a headlock. “And that’s for ruining the cradle.”

But Will had a few tricks of his own. He grabbed onto Gid’s arm and bent over, heaving him on the ground. “Why would I ruin your cradle?”

Gid leaped to his feet. “Why?” He worked around to swing again and brought a left hook out of nowhere. Will jumped back to avoid it.

Amos would never admit it out loud, certainly not among this small crowd, but he was impressed with this quiet schoolteacher’s tenacity.

Gid narrowed his eyes. “You’ll do whatever you can to keep Sadie and me apart.”

Will ducked and danced. “Oh yeah? Well, why would she ever want a man like you?”

The world stopped dead to listen.

Gid was up in Will’s face, now pointing a finger at his chest. “You don’t know the first thing about being a man.”

That did it. Will sprang. Down the two went, rolling in the dirt, throwing punches. Dust whipped into a fog. They rolled one way, then another, and knocked over the blue bird feeder. Sadie gasped as the dinner dish shattered when the feeder crashed to the ground. And still, they kept at it.

M.K. edged around to Amos and tugged on his sleeve. “They’re just having fun, right?”

“I think so,” Amos said, then frowned. “I thought so.” It was hard to tell. The boys were a frenzy of flailing elbows and kicking heels. All that could be heard were the sounds of grunts and smacks. More grunts than smacks.

The rest of them stood there, watching. Even the baby, held in Annie’s arms, looked stunned. His eyes and mouth were three little round O’s. Uncle Hank whistled, long and low, then he and Jimmy Fisher started betting to see who would win until Fern put a stop to that.

M.K. looked worried. “Dad—what’s wrong with them?”

Amos stroked his beard, wondering when he should step in. “Those two are butting heads over our Sadie.”

“But why?” M.K. couldn’t take her eyes off the two, dancing and sparring.

Amos glanced at her. “I believe it’s called a love triangle.”

“But that would mean . . .” She scrunched up her face. “Could Sadie be in love with two different boys at the same time?” She scratched her head. “Where could you look up a thing like that in the library?”

In the midst of the boys’ tussle, Amos turned to M.K. How could he make this clear to her? She was just twelve. She wanted simple definitions of love. Love was many things, but it was never simple. Before he could think of how to answer M.K., Fern interrupted him. “Amos Lapp, would you please stop those two before Gid ends up losing his teaching job!”

“What?” M.K. was horrified. “Does that mean Alice would have to take next year’s term?” She covered her face with her hands. “Dad! Please! Stop them!”

“They can’t keep this up,” Amos said, but they did.

Finally, Sadie had enough. She ran to the hose spigot and filled a bucket with water, then rushed over and tossed it at the two. They stopped fighting, shocked and soaked.

“Gid, stop it!” she yelled. “Go home!”

Gid limped to his feet. “I’m not going anywhere.” His shirt front was dripping with water and blood. He held one hand, already swelling, close to his chest. You could tell that he’d broken it. He took a few steps toward Sadie until they were practically nose to nose. She glared at him. Amos had never seen his daughter look so angry.

Gid looked at Sadie through a closing eye and repeated himself. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Sadie was furious. Mad at Gid, mad at Will. Will came out of the fight with surprisingly less damage than Gid, but he seemed to sense he should make himself scarce, and after Fern gave him an ice pack for his eye, he quietly slipped off to his cottage. Fern told Gid he needed a splint made for his hand before he headed off to the hospital’s emergency room for an X-ray. And Sadie was the only one who knew how.

In the kitchen, Sadie wrapped the gauze around the splint she had made to keep Gid’s broken hand immobile. They carefully avoided looking at each other. Amos had gone down to the shanty to call a taxi and offered to go with him to the emergency room, but Gid said no, that he could handle himself just fine.

Mary Kate sidled into the room, watching Sadie clean off Gid’s face cuts with cottonballs and alcohol. “It was my fault,” she whispered.