Chapter 33
The Hershbergers must surely be fighting a bit of envy. No one would blame Lee’s Gulch’s other Plain-owned grocery store owners
if they were miffed to see their customers crowding a competitor’s business.
Bonnie surveyed the grocery cart she was using at the Kleins’ Bent-and-Dent Store to hold her purchases and steady herself
while leaving her rollator by the front doors. Noodles, taco shells, Tabasco sauce, ketchup, bar soap, flour, a dented can
of jalapenos, tortilla chips only a few days past their “best by” date, and her favorite: a package of raspberries dipped
in dark chocolate. On average prices were slashed 75 percent for items past their recommended-by dates or goods with damaged
packaging. A regular grocery store couldn’t compete.
Bonnie wouldn’t buy many of the store’s bulk items simply because her two-person family was too small to eat them quickly.
Plus they had no need for packaged cookies, crackers, soups, desserts, or canned vegetables and fruits. Baking and cooking
from scratch was so much better. Canning vegetables and fruits from the garden guaranteed fresh foods year-round.
All the same, shopping in such a festive atmosphere was fun. The Kleins and their five children handed out free samples of crackers, cookies, candies, and flavored waters. The scent of fresh-buttered popcorn in red-striped bags dispensed from a portable cart floated in the air. They gave away coupons for another 25 percent off already bargain-basement prices. Shoppers won door prizes. They’d decorated with red, white, and blue balloons and streamers in honor of the upcoming Fourth of July celebration. Everyone seemed to be smiling.
Who wouldn’t with row upon row of dented canned goods, jellies, jams, pancake mix, granola bars, cereal, spices, pickles,
paper plates, chips, cereal, cookies, crackers, bottled water, canned meats, disposable diapers, coffee, juice, and more?
A customer never knew what she would find on any given day. It depended on the latest load of banana boxes—a surprise medley
even for the owners.
“You’re gloomy again.” Opal charged down the cleaning supplies aisle with Tucker sleeping in her cart. Her tummy was showing
more these days. Her morning sickness gone, she exuded good humor. Annoyingly so. “How can you be so droopy in the middle
of these bargains?”
She didn’t give Bonnie a chance to respond. “Look what I found!” She held up a huge box of lactation cookies. “They’re full
of oatmeal, brewer’s yeast, and flaxseed. They’re supposed to help with milk supply. The whole box is only two dollars. And
they’re not expired. Yet.”
Now it was Bonnie’s turn to feel envy crowd her. She stuffed it back in its lockbox. “Nice. It’s a little early for that,
isn’t it?”
“The box says they recommend starting in the thirty-fifth week. They’ll keep.” Opal squeezed the box into the cart alongside
Tucker. He didn’t budge. “I’m so glad he’s sleeping. It’s easier to shop with a sleeping bopli than a crying one.”
Bonnie chomped down on the words that threatened to storm the ramparts. I wouldn’t know. It wasn’t enough to not say these things. She shouldn’t even think them. Gott, forgive me. Help me do better. Show me how to live out the fruit of the Spirit. “He’s a gut bopli.”
“He is. What did you find?”
Bonnie showed off her discoveries. Her total would be less than twelve dollars. “Can’t beat that with a stick. I’d better
go. I told Carol and Sophia I’d spell them so they can get a chance to see what all the fuss is about.”
“Wait. I know it’s hard for you to see my family growing.” Opal’s roundabout way of referring to being with child paid lip
service to the Plain tradition of keeping such rites of passage private. “The fact is, you’re the one who is standing in your
own way.” Her gaze swept the aisle. They were alone. “You need to get out of your own way.”
“Easy for you to say.” Bonnie snorted. Both she and Elijah had reason to go their separate ways. In the end it hadn’t seemed
that difficult for Elijah to acquiesce to Bonnie’s decision not to court. He had his own challenge. A man who was gone six
months out of the year would think twice about taking a wife who had special needs.
It might be that God had given Elijah a talent and a certain way of being that He expected Elijah to honor. And his family.
Maybe it was a test. How did a person know? If Bonnie didn’t know, how could she expect Elijah to know? “I’m doing the right
thing by not saddling a man with my limitations.”
“I say this with all the love in my heart: stop feeling sorry for yourself.”
“I’m not. I’ve never felt sorry for myself. Resigned, maybe, but I don’t host pity parties. I’m simply being realistic.”
“I know it’s easy for me to say—”
“Very easy.”
“But you said yourself that your doctor said you could have boplin.”
“Physically, jah, it’s possible, but my doctor isn’t Plain. She hasn’t lived the way we live, not using convenience foods,
disposable diapers, dishwashing machines, washers and dryers, microwaves, and vacuum cleaners.” Bonnie ticked the items off
on her fingers. “To name just a few. But that’s beside the point. The question is, should a woman who can’t take care of a
bopli bring one into the world, forcing someone else to care for him?”
“I can think of one man, at least, who would jump at the chance.”
“Because he has no idea what he would be getting himself into. We’re not talking about just taking care of a bopli or boplin,
but also his fraa.” Bonnie stopped, heaved a sigh, and forced herself to slow down. “Besides, we’re getting way ahead of ourselves.
Why talk about having boplin when there’s no talk of marriage?”
“Only because you put the kibosh on courting.”
“I don’t want to argue.” Especially in the middle of the Bent-and-Dent Store. “Let it go, sei so gut.”
“Me neither.” Opal rushed around her cart. She hugged Bonnie around the neck. “I just want you to be happy.”
“And not gloomy.”
“Exactly.”
“I’ll do my best. I promise. Now I have to go. Sophia and Carol will think I forgot about them.”
“It’s nice of you to cover the store on your day off.”
“I don’t mind.” If customers crowded the store, it would keep her from obsessing over her last conversation with Elijah. But
that didn’t seem likely. They were all at the Bent-and-Dent. “I have some bookwork to do anyway.”
“Oh, there’s my aenti Lena. I have to say hallo. I’ll talk to you later.”
And she was off. Bonnie pushed her cart down the aisle toward the bank of three registers. The Kleins were certainly optimistic
about how much business they would do in Lee’s Gulch. They’d moved to town from Millersburg only six months earlier when they
bought the old dollar store and converted it into its new use. It turned out Lee’s Gulch couldn’t support four dollar stores.
Three would be plenty.
The wait stretched. The cashiers were still learning to use the cash registers. Bonnie’s cashier, obviously a Klein with his
towhead, fair skin, and deep-blue eyes. When Bonnie finally made it to the head of the line, she edged to the side of her
cart and started laying her items on the conveyor belt.
“Gut choices. I’m Neil Klein.” Neil scanned the Tabasco sauce first. He grinned triumphantly. “Can I get your name for the
door prize drawing? You’ll get another 10 percent off the next time you come in.”
Bonnie enthused over the offer and gave him her name. He rushed around the counter to bag her groceries. She glanced at the
other registers. The customers were doing their own bagging. “I can get that.”
“I like to help.” His smile widened and his face reddened. “I’m new here in Lee’s Gulch. Maybe I’ll see you at church next
Sunday.”
“It seems likely.” The redder his cheeks turned, the warmer Bonnie’s became. “Welcome to Lee’s Gulch.”
Ignoring the line waiting at this register, Neil kept his hand on her cart as Bonnie pushed it toward the row near the front doors—and her rollator against the wall. One hand still gripping the cart handle, she reached for her rollator with the other and pulled it toward her. As she did, her gaze collided with Neil’s. His expression turned puzzled. The exact moment realization hit home, he winced and let go of her cart.
It wouldn’t be fair to judge him. It took most people a second to adjust to seeing a young person using a rollator. It didn’t
fit expectations. It was an anomaly—to able-bodied people. To the person with the disability, it just was.
“Danki for your help.” Bonnie shot him her best smile. “You’d better get back to your register. Your customers are getting
restless.”
“Jah, jah, I should.” Neil backed away, turned, and scurried back to his post.
Determined not to let his reaction spoil her day, Bonnie held on to her smile. She wedged her bags into the rollator’s pouch
and straightened. Squeezing between customers grabbing carts and those returning them, she edged toward the door.
That was, until a cart blocked her path. Elijah. Of all people. Bonnie paused. “Do you mind? I’m trying to leave.”
“Not at all.”
Despite his words, Elijah didn’t move. His face had turned brick red. His hands had a death grip on his cart’s handle.
Bonnie shot him a questioning look.
Elijah licked his lips. His forehead wrinkled. He opened his mouth, then closed it.
They were back to that day when he first came to the store. Bonnie had met him at the front door. He’d been speechless then
too. Where was the man who’d kissed her not so long ago?
“I really need to get back to the store. Sophia and Carol would like to check out the bargains too.”
Head bent, Elijah backed up and maneuvered so Bonnie could pass by. She started forward.
“Stop.”
A single syllable delivered in a tone that couldn’t be ignored. Bonnie paused again. “What is it?”
“We need to talk.” Elijah met her gaze head-on. The confident Elijah had reemerged. “Now.”
“I’ll be at the store if you want to review your sales and pick up your check.”
“I don’t want to talk about toys. Or money.”
“Okay. What then?”
“Us.”
Bonnie surveyed the store. Carol’s mother and Opal’s aunt were in line at one of the registers. Neither of them tried to hide
their interest in the obvious impasse playing out in front of them. Bonnie swallowed her “there isn’t an us” response.
“Not here we don’t.”
“What if I bring you a sub sandwich for lunch?” Elijah nudged his cart closer. “Talking business over lunch is acceptable.
We can define business as we see fit.”
He sounded different. In charge. Certain of himself.
“I like mesquite chicken, American cheese on a whole wheat roll, with mustard and mayo. Lots of fixings, except no onion or
jalapeos. Barbecue chips. Iced tea.”
Elijah’s thumbs-up was almost jaunty. “Do you need help with your bags?”
“Nee.”
He touched the brim of his hat. “Until later.”
Suddenly Bonnie had a powerful hunger.