The following Friday, Mark raised his arm to wave goodbye to the truck driver, then winced. His shoulder recalled every time he’d lifted a shovel filled with potatoes and dropped them onto the conveyor into the truck. He tried not to think how many kilos he’d moved that day.
The bulk of his crop was on its way to Charlottetown where it would be made into fried potato products. He looked at the paper the driver had given him. It stated the company would pay him within thirty days. He smiled when his gaze focused on the amount. It would be more than enough to tide him over the winter and to buy seed in the spring. Maybe not enough to pay for fixing up the outbuildings, but he should be able to paint the interior of the house and clear out the smaller barns which were filled with tools and rusty equipment someone else might be able to use.
Near the small stacks of potatoes remaining in the dark, dank barn, Daryn leaned on his shovel. His head hung low, and Mark wondered if his youngest brother had ever worked so hard.
“Danki for your help,” Mark said as he walked to where his brother stood. “I’m about ready for a shower. How about you?”
The teenager raised his head and grinned. “More than you can know. How about something cold to drink first?”
“Sounds perfect.”
When Daryn raced toward the house, Mark shook his head. Lord, he prayed with a grin, if I could have half his energy and stamina again.
Everything about farming had been harder than he’d expected, but he loved the challenge of making sure crops were planted at the right time—with enough weeks to ripen but not too early so a late frost would ruin them—and selecting the exact moment to harvest. He hadn’t done everything right this year. Not by a long shot. His corn had gone in later than it should have, but the weather had cooperated and the ears had grown and ripened on schedule.
“Here you go,” Daryn said, walking into the barn and holding out a glass. “The last of the root beer.” He sighed. “Do you think Helga Petersheim would send more if we asked?”
Mark took a long drink of the brown fizziness, then wiped his lips with his hand. “You might offer to buy some.”
“With what?” He mimed turning his pockets inside out. “All I’ve got is lint.”
“With the potatoes—”
“Ja, I know,” Daryn said in a tone perfect for a martyr...or a teenager. “With the potatoes sold, you’ll pay me once you’ve been paid. Then I’ll have money to burn.”
“I hope you don’t burn it.”
“You know what I mean.”
Mark clapped him on the shoulder. “I do, and I appreciate you agreeing to this arrangement.”
“I didn’t agree. Mamm and Daed did.” He jerked away, his gut spirits vanishing as he hunched into himself.
“But you stayed.”
“What was my other choice? Going home and having Mamm and Daed watch me like a wolf watches sheep? Waiting for me to make a mistake?”
“They want to protect you.”
“What about learning from my mistakes? How can I do that if I’m never allowed to make one?”
“You’re asking the wrong person. I’m not your daed. I’m your brother. Your sweaty brother.” He smiled. “Do you want the shower first or me?”
“First.” He hurried toward the house.
“Don’t use all the hot water. Again!”
His brother’s chuckle wafted to him.
Mark took another sip of the root beer. It was gut. Spicy, but not overly so. Enough to make a man sit up and take notice.
Like Kirsten Petersheim.
Whoa! Where had that thought come from? The pretty brunette had tried to pop up in his mind several times during the past week, but he’d squelched the thoughts.
“You’re too tired to fight your brain,” he mumbled.
He’d give his brother fifteen minutes for his shower. If the boy took a second longer, Mark would bang on the door in hopes of having at least a little hot water.
In the meantime, he’d make up three-kilo bags as well as four-and-half kilo bags for the family’s store. He’d promised to deliver them to Mattie this morning. It was past noon, and he didn’t want customers at the Celtic Knoll Farm Shop to be disappointed if they were looking for potatoes. Mattie and her sister, Daisy, had worked too hard to get the shop up and running for him to let them down.
Driving his open wagon between the large Quonset hut holding the family’s farm shop and two smaller ones that were little more than skeletons, Mark was pleased to see four cars and an equal number of buggies in the parking lot. Mattie and Daisy had a steady clientele.
The shop was set on a slight rise offering beautiful views of the bay and the cliffs that rose on the far side. Late season mums clung to the walk to the front door, adding bright splashes of yellow and orange. Bins with apples and winter squash created a patchwork of color beside a side door. The potato bins, he noticed, were empty.
He parked by the wide doors to the rear storage room. “Coming?” he asked as he swung down from the seat.
His brother grumbled, “Why? I won’t have time to look around before you make me unload the wagon.”
“Help me unload the wagon. We’re partners in this.”
“We aren’t partners. You’re the boss, and I’m the indentured servant.”
Mark considered responding, but didn’t. The last time Daryn had whined like this, he’d called Mark the jailer and himself the prisoner. The time before it was guard for Mark and a member of a chain gang for Daryn. There had been more Mark had forgotten. If Daryn spent as much time working as he did in coming up with ridiculous comparisons, the job would have been done already.
He remained silent and opened the door to the Quonset hut’s storage room. Passing between the stacks of boxes and bags waiting to be put on the shelves for customers, he halted when he saw a motion. He was greeted by a blonde teen who rolled her wheelchair toward him.
“How are you doing, Daisy?” he asked, bending to give her a hug.
“We’re doing great.” She squeezed him before holding up the battered doll she always had with her. “Boppi Lynn is happy to see you.”
Smiling, he said, “I’m happy to see her. Where’s Mattie?”
“With customers.” Daisy pointed over her shoulder toward the door opening into the store. “Where else? Are you sure you want to talk to her? She’s mad.”
“At me?”
“Ja. Customers want potatoes, so Mattie wants potatoes. You bring potatoes.”
Mark chuckled. He was glad Mattie had brought her younger sister with her to Prince Edward Island. Daisy’s Down syndrome made her blunt. He appreciated that.
His gut humor vanished when he opened the door to the shop and stepped out. Nearly into a woman.
As he started to apologize, his words tumbled into each other like a stack of wooden blocks. He stared at Kirsten’s shocked face. For the past week, he’d imagined seeing her again. Now he couldn’t think of a single word to say without stuttering like a wet-behind-the-ears teenager asking a girl to let him drive her home for the first time.
Where had that come from?
Kirsten was surprised. Mark hadn’t had trouble with words before. The opposite, in fact, because he’d aired his opinions the evening she went to his house to check on Janelle’s work.
At the thought of her cousin, Kirsten glanced toward the front of the shop where Janelle was talking to Mattie Kuhns by the cash register. Janelle had pleaded with Kirsten to stop as they were driving past the Celtic Knoll Farm Shop and had jumped out of the buggy before it had rolled to a stop, leaving Kirsten and Theo to follow at a more rational rate. Theo had gone to talk to a boy close to his age who was tossing a ball in the air and catching it. Kirsten had entered the shop because she’d assumed Janelle wanted to buy something, but instead the teenager headed for Mattie. What was that about?
Mark was silent, so Kirsten said, “If I can get my cart past you...”
He jumped to the side as if she’d poked him with the cart. “Sorry.”
She started to walk past him, but stopped when he spoke again.
“I’m sorry for running you down, too,” he said.
This was ridiculous. She had no reason to worry about impressing him. Grasping for something to say, she fell back on business. “Janelle will be at your house as scheduled Wednesday.”
“Gut.”
Again she waited for him to say more, but when he didn’t, she pushed on the cart to go around him. He put out a hand to grab the front, shocking her.
And shocking him, because his pale brows shot upward as if he couldn’t believe what he’d done.
He took a slow breath, then said, “I think we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot, Kirsten.”
“You had every right to complain about Janelle’s work.”
“Can we move beyond that?”
“Ja. I’d like that.”
“Me, too.” His broad shoulders eased as he glanced into her cart. “Carrots, onions, peas. Are you making stew?”
“I was going to, but there aren’t any potatoes.”
“I can help with that. Wait here.”
Before she could answer, he pushed through the door. He was back moments later with a bag of potatoes. Putting it in the cart, he said, “Fresh from the field.”
“Danki. You didn’t need to—”
“Trust me. If I let you go away without potatoes, I’ll never hear the end of it. Mattie and Daisy want to keep their customers happy.”
Kirsten relaxed, too, as she smiled. “I understand that.”
Theo raced up to them along with a half-dozen other boys. “Mark! We’re going to play baseball on the beach. Want to be on my team?”
“Sorry,” he said. “Daryn and—”
“Daryn can play too.”
Mark shook his head. “We’ve got to unload potatoes.”
Theo’s lower lip stuck out in a pout. “We wanted you to play with us.”
“I’ve got an idea,” Kirsten interjected when Mark looked taken aback by Theo’s childish protest. “If you and your friends help Mark and Daryn unload the potatoes, they’ll have some time to play ball with you. Would that work, Mark?”
She’d shocked him. She could tell by how his eyes widened. She was about to apologize for making assumptions when he said, “Sure. That’s a gut plan.”
“If the whole team helps,” she said with a smile at the boys, “you and Daryn can play longer, Mark. Many hands make light work, ain’t so?”
“We’ll help.” Theo was grinning again as he glanced over his shoulder. “Right, guys?”
The other boys agreed with varying degrees of enthusiasm, but Theo didn’t seem to notice.
“If you want to help unload,” Mark said with a wry smile in Kirsten’s direction, “I’d be out of my mind to say no. I get your help, and Daryn and I get to play ball.”
Theo started to cheer, but Kirsten hushed him as other customers peered in their direction. When she looked at Mark to thank him, he was appraising her as if for the first time. She was curious what he was thinking, but didn’t ask.
“Can I catch?” Mark asked, astonishing her because she’d been sure his next words would be to ask why she’d volunteered him, without asking first, to join the game.
“You don’t want to pitch?” Theo gasped, and the others exchanged baffled glances. “Everyone wants to pitch.”
“Not me. I like to catch. I can observe the other teams’ batters up close and signal the pitcher to help strike them out.”
Theo pondered the idea, then grinned. “So will you be our catcher?”
“Ja. Once the potatoes are unloaded. Komm mol. Time’s a-wastin’.”
That brought laughter from her cousin. “You sound like an old man.”
“Compared to you, I am. Time to work, so we can play.”
Motioning for the other kids to follow, Theo hurried toward the side door.
“Danki,” Kirsten said as she looked at Mark and quickly away. She had to stop thinking anything she said would be considered flirting. Eldon had chided her for flirting with other men. She hadn’t thought she was, but wondered if she knew what flirting was. Talking to a man shouldn’t be flirting, ain’t so?
“For what?”
“What you said was wunderbaar. Theo is often sad when other boys ask their daeds or older brothers to play. He misses his daed.”
“I didn’t think of that.”
“No reason why you should.” She smiled as she heard a thump from beyond the door. “You’d better go and rescue your potatoes before they end up pre-mashed.”
“I’ll make sure Theo gets home.”
She couldn’t help being touched by his thoughtfulness. “Danki, and you and Daryn are welcome to join us for supper.”
“With Theo and Daryn there, maybe I should get you more potatoes.”
Laughing, she started to reply, but halted when another thud was followed by a boy howling, “You dropped it on my toe!”
“No, I didn’t,” came a loud denial.
“You did. On purpose.”
Mark threw open the door. As the door swung shut, she heard him trying to corral the boys in an effort to save his potatoes and their feet.
Kirsten grinned as she steered her cart to the register. Janelle stepped aside, clamping her lips closed.
“Everything okay?” Kirsten asked, curious why her cousin didn’t want her to hear what she’d been discussing with Mattie.
“Everything’s great,” her cousin said.
Quelling her curiosity, Kirsten put her groceries on the counter and smiled at Mattie, whose hair was as pale a blond as her cousin’s. Mattie totaled the items and bagged them. Kirsten was surprised when Janelle picked up the bags as soon as the transaction was done.
“Bye, Mattie!” she called.
“See you soon,” Mattie answered before turning to her next customer.
Kirsten couldn’t keep from glancing toward the back of the shop when she walked out behind her cousin. She smiled as she saw Theo, Daryn and the rest of the boys had formed what looked like a bucket brigade. Instead of water, they were passing potato bags along the line.
Setting the groceries in the buggy, Janelle got in. Kirsten did, too, and reached for the reins.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Janelle asked.
“What?”
“Theo!”
Kirsten laughed as she turned the buggy toward the shore road. “He’s staying to play ball with Mark and the boys.”
“Oh.” Janelle chewed on her lower lip, then said, “I saw you talking with Mark Yutzy.”
“Ja. Theo and I did.”
“Theo?” Shock stiffened her. “What was he talking to Mark about?”
“Playing ball.”
Janelle sighed, and Kirsten asked her what was wrong.
“Nothing.” Janelle hesitated. “Be careful with him, Kirsten.”
“Him? Are you talking about your brother or Mark?”
“Mark! Haven’t you heard what people say?”
“I don’t listen to gossip.”
“Maybe you should, because there’s usually truth in it.” Her voice dropped to a whisper.
“What truth?”
Janelle’s voice grew softer. “I’ve heard he’s one of those men who doesn’t care who’s in his way, because all he can see are his goals. He pushes by everything else—and everyone.” She sighed again, this time loudly. “Look whom I’m talking to! You know about men like that better than anyone else, ain’t so?”
Kirsten forced herself to ease her grip on the reins before she hurt the horse’s mouth. Janelle’s words had been like a slap across the face.
But true.
She’d believed the men she’d walked out with were interested in her. She’d been wrong. Lloyd had wanted an Englisch life. Hans had wanted a truck. Nolan had wanted her best friend. What had Eldon wanted? Not her.
Janelle thought Mark was like Kirsten’s four suitors, focused on what he wanted and not caring about her.
Kirsten couldn’t let herself be attracted to another man who had more important matters on his mind than her. Hadn’t she learned her lessons with Nolan, Loyal, Hans and Eldon? She’d told herself after each one she wouldn’t be foolish again. Three times, she’d forgotten as soon as another man showed her attention and kindness. How many more times did she need to be taught God’s plan for her didn’t include a husband and a family? On her knees, she’d promised Him she’d heed His wishes and let the dream go.
This time, it was a promise she intended to keep for herself...and for her family.