Beneath the Apple Leaves(84)

Pieter’s face burned red, but he relented, bit his lip so hard it blanched white.

“They’re going to be all right.” He let go of his friend’s arm and spoke dimly. “Fritz got cut, but it’s not too bad.”

“And Anna?” he shouted. “So help me if they hurt her!”

“They took her wig but didn’t hurt her. She doesn’t want anyone to see her without hair. Why she hid.”

Pieter’s face twisted as he forced back the angry tears. He grabbed at his own hair with two fists. Sounds sputtered from his mouth as he tried to form words. He spun in a half circle. Finally, he dropped his hands and grabbed Andrew by the collar. “Who the hell does that? Who the hell does that to a little girl?” he hissed.

Andrew pried the fingers from his shirt. “People aren’t thinking straight and you know it.” Andrew lowered his voice and spoke roughly. “But you need to think straight, you hear me? I know you’re riled. I am, too, but you got to think straight.”

“Riled?” Pieter started to yell but lowered his voice to a growl. “If you think I’m going to stand by and let someone do that to my family, then you don’t know me at all.”

Andrew squared his shoulders, met the eyes level. “I’m not saying you don’t do anything about it. I’m just saying we got to think this through.”

“We?” The severity left his voice. “This isn’t your fight, Andrew.”

“Yes, it is.” The weight was his own. “And you know it.”

Andrew dropped them at the Muellers’ home, watched as Pieter carried Anna in his arms while Fritz’s large frame shed a shadow across their narrow walkway. He turned the buggy back up the lane and headed toward Lily’s house.

The sound of crickets rose from the goldenrod and poison sumac that hugged the slope near the road. “What do you plan to do?” Lily finally asked.

“I don’t know.” He felt her gaze on his face and turned, met her eyes for only a moment. “Pieter’s out for blood.”

“Please don’t get involved.” The fear in her voice left her limp. “I couldn’t take it if you got hurt.”





CHAPTER 40

Andrew climbed the small foot ladder to the lower limbs of the apple tree. The fungus that had sprouted in early spring had spread to several more limbs, the black knots as hard as wood, cracking open the bark where it emerged. Andrew leaned his weight against the tree and used the handsaw to cut off the afflicted branches.

A rustling came from below. Lily’s crouched body picked up the cut limbs, then dragged them to the edge of the fence, threw them into the brush pile. Andrew stepped down the ladder and put the saw down, wiped the sawdust from his forehead with the back of his hand.

She dropped the last of the branches into the pile and waited as he approached. He stepped close and stopped, could feel the energy of her in the inches between them.

“I need to give you something.” She handed him a white box with a gold seal at the top. “It’s for Pieter. For Anna actually.”

“Why don’t you give it to her?”

“I’d rather they didn’t know it came from me. I know what they think of Frank, of me.” The muscles of her throat stretched. “I don’t think they’d accept it.”

“What is it?”

Lily didn’t answer, waited for him to open it. At first, when he lifted the lid, he thought he was looking down at a large doll’s head, but as he lifted the stand out he saw what it was. A small brown wig, only large enough to fit a child.

“For Anna,” Andrew said, nearly to himself.

Lily nodded. “I know the Muellers don’t have the money for a new one. Not now, anyway, with their accounts being cut. They’re very expensive. The good ones anyway.”

“How did you afford this?”

“Had some money put away. Was saving for a trip. Seems kind of silly now.” She brushed a strand of hair from her lowered eyes. “Would you give it to her?”

Lily’s profile could have been chiseled from glowing quartz—the pure, white skin, the curve of her forehead to the straight line of her nose and curve of her lips. He fell lost into the still profile, unable to remove his gaze. Finally, he found the only two words brave enough to come forth. “I will.” She smiled sadly and gave a short wave in thanks before walking away.

*

Gerda Mueller bent over a patch of spinach, her enormous backside swaying and twitching as she grabbed any weeds insolent enough to sprout in her garden. Given she didn’t see him approach, Andrew cleared his throat. Gerda spun, her hands still strangling the mangled roots as she tittered. “Oh, Andrew! Some velcome, eh? With my bum wavin’ hello to ya!” She threw the plants to the ground and wiped her man hands on her skirt. “Lookin’ for Pieter, then?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He met her at the row of vegetables, scanned the even, abundant lines. “Got the hardiest garden I’ve ever seen, Mrs. Mueller.”

A mighty arm wrapped around his shoulder and a wet kiss landed on his cheek. “You! Charmer, Andrew Houghton!” She pinched his cheek in the spot that she had kissed. “A good man.”

“Ah, Ma!” Pieter carried a harness over his shoulder while several horseshoes lined his wrist like a bracelet. “Stop bruising the neighbors.”