Second Chances on Huckleberry Hill

by Jennifer Beckstrand

Genres: Amish & Mennonite; Christian Romance; Clean & Wholesome Romance

Synopsis

The endearingly irrepressible matchmaking grandparents Anna and Felty Helmuth have helped generations of their Wisconsin community—including many of their own grandchildren—find love. But this time, instead of making a new match, can they help one heartbroken couple maintain theirs?



Martha Sue Helmuth wishes she could just relax and enjoy her extended visit with her beloved grandparents. Instead, she is nursing a broken heart over gentle widower Yost Beiler. Yost's thirteen-year-old son, Jonah, refuses to accept Martha Sue, and she refuses to risk coming between them. For now, she is just trying to avoid her Mammi's choice of yet another eligible suitor. But when Yost moves himself and Jonah to Huckleberry Hill to change Martha Sue's mind, she can't help dreaming that somehow, some way, she and Yost will have a miraculous second chance to be together . . .



After his wife's untimely death, Yost did everything he could to help Jonah through his grief. He hopes that Martha Sue's outgoing family will show his son how loving and trustworthy she truly is. But Anna and Felty's matchmaking antics are inspiring Jonah to drive Martha Sue off for good. And when he goes too far, can Yost and Martha Sue find the understanding to forgive him—and the strength to prove they can overcome differences to make one joyous forever family?

Release date: May 23, 2023

Publisher: Zebra Books

Print pages: 352

Sample

Martha Sue Helmuth stomped down the cellar stairs wondering just how she’d gotten herself into this mess.

She loved Christmas. She adored Christmas. Usually by December first every year she had a silly grin on her face that didn’t leave until well into January. Christmas celebrations, school Christmas programs, and Christmas goodies made her wildly happy. But this year, every smidgen of Christmas cheer had completely abandoned her. She didn’t want to sing Christmas carols or hear her relatives wish each other “Frehlicher Grischtdaag.” She did not want to decorate the house with pine boughs or light candles or go on a sleigh ride.

She wanted to put on her pajamas, sit next to Mammi’s woodstove, and read a book—something depressing like Martyr’s Mirror or Tongue Screws and Testimonies. But she couldn’t even do that because it was Christmas Eve, and at least a dozen cousins and assorted aunts and uncles congregated in Mammi and Dawdi’s great room for the family’s traditional Christmas Eve dinner and carol singing.

Martha Sue had volunteered to fetch Mammi Helmuth’s famous—or infamous—huckleberry raisin jelly just so she could be alone with her unpleasant thoughts for two minutes instead of having to put on a gute face for her merry, filled-with-the-Christmas-spirit relatives. Huckleberry raisin jelly didn’t sound half bad, but Mammi meant for the jelly to go on her famous—or infamous—cheesy jalapeno bread at tonight’s Christmas Eve party. It didn’t seem a very appetizing combination, but Mammi was famous—or infamous—for her out-of-the-ordinary recipes and stomach-churning food creations.

If she didn’t want to starve, Martha Sue was going to have to take over the cooking while she stayed here with Mammi and Dawdi.

Martha Sue had arrived at Mammi and Dawdi’s house three days ago, and she wasn’t here just for the Christmas holiday. She’d be staying with Mammi and Dawdi all winter and into the spring. Maybe longer. Martha Sue wasn’t exactly sure whose idea it had been for her to come to stay with her grandparents. Mamm had wanted her to get out and see the world. And by “get out and see the world,” Mamm had meant getting out of Ohio and going to Wisconsin.

Dat said Martha Sue’s visit was a gute way for someone in the family to keep a close eye on Mammi and Dawdi. They weren’t getting any younger—Dawdi was eighty-seven—and Dat thought they might need some help. Mammi and Dawdi were old, but they seemed perfectly capable of taking care of themselves and their farm. Mammi was healthy enough to knit a dozen pot holders each week, cook three simply awful meals a day, and gather eggs every morning, rain or shine. Dawdi mucked out the barn and hitched up the horse like a forty-year-old. They didn’t need Martha Sue’s help.

Martha Sue had been so eager to get out of Charm, Ohio, that she hadn’t paused to consider why Dat or Mamm or Mammi really wanted her here in Bonduel, Wisconsin. And then, three days ago when she’d stepped off the bus and had seen Mammi’s beaming face, Martha Sue had suddenly known why she was here. She’d been tricked into coming so Mammi and Dawdi could find her a husband.

Why hadn’t she realized it before she had made the long trip to Bonduel? Mammi and Dawdi were famous—or infamous—in the family for being persistent and successful matchmakers to many of their grandchildren, and Martha Sue was the next victim on the list. She was thirty years old, and there were no prospects in Charm. Ach, vell, no prospects she hadn’t already rejected, and she certainly wasn’t going to give Yost Beiler a sideways glance ever again. Lord willing, her moving to Wisconsin would be the final nail in the coffin of that relationship.

Yost was the real reason Martha Sue had agreed to come to Bonduel, no matter what Mamm’s or Mammi’s reasons were.

Martha Sue wiped a foolish tear from her cheek. She didn’t want to think about Yost Beiler or any other man from Charm or any other man from anywhere else, for that matter. She didn’t want Mammi and Dawdi to find her a husband, because at this point it would be an old bachelor who was sick of cooking for himself or someone with very bad eyesight who was willing to settle for a plain Amish maedel. It didn’t matter that Mammi and Dawdi had found suitable matches for more than a dozen of their grandchildren. They wouldn’t find anyone Martha Sue wanted to marry, and no one who would want to marry her.

And that was that.

Mammi was the dearest soul in the world, and she was going to be very disappointed that Martha Sue didn’t want her help finding a husband. But it would be best to let Mammi down sooner than later, before she invited half the single Amish men in Bonduel to dinner.

Martha Sue found a pint of deep purple huckleberry raisin jelly on the shelf next to a row of bottles labeled “Pickled Kitchen Scraps.” She didn’t even want to know what that was. Huckleberry raisin jelly on cheesy jalapeno bread was bad enough.

Upstairs, someone knocked on the front door, and there were muted Christmas greetings and laughter. The family was still gathering. Now would be the perfect time to mention to her grandparents that she didn’t want a husband and to please not try to set her up with anybody. Mammi would be too distracted to be upset, Dawdi wouldn’t care, and then maybe Martha Sue could enjoy the party.

She hurried up the stairs and into the great room. At least another dozen relatives had arrived since she’d been downstairs. Cousin Titus and his wife, Katie Rose, knelt next to Dawdi’s easy chair having a conversation with Dawdi while their two little girls ran around the great room with some cousins. Several of Martha Sue’s cousins and aunts busied themselves in the kitchen with dinner preparations. Mammi didn’t fix Christmas Eve dinner anymore. Her daughters had taken over the meal several years ago with the excuse of easing Mammi’s burden with the added benefit that the Christmas Eve dinner was actually something everyone enjoyed eating.

Mammi sat in her rocker holding the hand of little Isaac, Moses and Lia’s youngest, listening intently as he told her something that looked to be very important to a three-year-old. Mary Anne and Jethro were there with their twins, as well as Martha Sue’s sister Mandy and Mandy’s family. Even Cassie and Zach Reynolds had come. Cassie had jumped the fence a few years ago and married Zach, who was a very important doctor in Chicago. Cassie hadn’t been baptized, so she hadn’t been shunned, and everyone loved having them at get-togethers because Zach told the most interesting medical stories and didn’t mind giving piggyback rides to all the great-grandchildren. Zach also gave free medical advice, and he was always cornered at these gatherings by anxious mothers wanting him to look in their children’s ears or curious adults wanting him to diagnose a rash or a weird mole.

Martha Sue handed her sister Mandy the jelly. Mandy grimaced when she read the label, then took it into the kitchen to add to the goodies piling up on the counter. Martha Sue sat on the sofa next to Mammi’s rocker and waited for Isaac to finish his story about almost getting stepped on by a cow. Mammi listened and nodded at all the right moments and kissed Isaac’s finger, which had been injured in a separate incident with a wringer washer.

Isaac skipped off to play with his cousins, and Martha Sue found her opportunity. She leaned closer to Mammi. “Mammi, denki for letting me stay here with you for a few months.”

Mammi’s eyes sparkled. “It’s my pleasure.” She patted Martha Sue’s cheek. “You look so much like your mother. Just as pretty as a picture. I know some boys who will be very interested to meet you.”

“Well, Mammi, I want to talk to you about that.”

“Oh? About what?”

“Mammi,” Martha Sue said, taking her mammi’s hand. “I love you very much.”

“And I love you. I’m shocked that some nice boy hasn’t snatched you up already.”

Martha Sue cleared her throat. “That’s what I want to talk to you about. I know that you invited me here so you could find me a husband.”

Mammi’s eyes widened in surprise, and then she grinned. “Ach, vell, I guess the cat is out of the bag. Who told you? Was it Felty? He’s usually so gute at keeping secrets.”

“Nae. I figured it out on my own. But I’m not here to meet boys. I’m here to spend time with you and Dawdi.”

Mammi blew a puff of air from between her lips. “Ach, why would you want to spend time with us? We’re old and boring. You need to be with people your own age. You’re so happy and bubbly all the time, people are naturally drawn to you, and you are naturally drawn to other people.”

Martha Sue was going to have to be more blunt. “I’m old too, Mammi. Nobody wants to marry me. It would be an awful chore for you to have to find me a husband.”

Mammi patted Martha Sue’s hand. “But, my dear, it’s not a chore. I love helping my grandchildren find spouses.” She gestured around the room. “Your dawdi and I have helped at least a dozen people in this very room to gute marriages. It would be our pleasure to do the same for you. No thanks necessary.”

“But I don’t want a husband.”

She must have said that louder than she thought because the adult chatter in the room went silent. Die kinner still made a commotion, but the noise level in the room dropped considerably. Twenty pairs of eyes stared at her. She felt her face get warm. This was definitely the worst Christmas ever.

“Ach,” Mammi said. “You don’t mean that. Everybody wants to get married.”

“Not everybody,” Martha Sue said, because there really was nothing to do but stand her ground. “No one wants to marry me.” That wasn’t precisely true, but Martha Sue wasn’t about to try to explain Yost Beiler.

Dawdi patted the arm of his easy chair. “That’s just what your mammi thought when she was a girl. She didn’t believe anyone wanted to marry her, but every boy in Bonduel was secretly in love with her.”

Mammi blushed from her neck to the top of her forehead. “Ach, Felty, no one was in love with me but you. And maybe not even you. Maybe you only married me for my cooking.”

Dawdi laughed. “For sure and certain I love your cooking, Annie-banannie, but I was so in love with you, I wouldn’t have cared if you served cardboard every night for dinner. I would marry you all over again a thousand times.”

Martha Sue wasn’t sure if it was a deliberate attempt to distract her, but Mammi and Dawdi completely forgot about Martha Sue as they told everyone the story of how they fell in love. It was a lovely story with Red Hot cinnamon rolls, Christmas caroling, and plenty of knitted scarves to go around.

After Dawdi and Mammi finished their story, Mammi gave Martha Sue a grandmotherly smile. “You see, dear, you may not know it yet, but you definitely want a husband.”

Martha Sue’s heart sank to her toes. “I don’t think it will work for me the way it worked for you.”

“Of course not. It will be your own beautiful love story.” Mammi’s smile faltered. “The truth is, I’ve already found you a husband. He’s coming after dinner to meet you.”

Most of Martha Sue’s relatives laughed. Some, like Mandy, looked as if they felt sorry for her. Martha Sue felt sorry for herself.

Someone knocked on the door, and Martha Sue nearly jumped out of her skin.

Mammi drew her brows together. “I don’t like tardiness, but I dislike earliness even more.”

Martha Sue’s cousin Moses grinned at her. “You might as well answer the door. Apparently it’s for you.”

Martha Sue trudged to the door as if she were going toward her doom. It didn’t help that every eye in the room was focused on her. She opened the door and lost the ability to breathe. Yost Beiler stood on Mammi’s porch bundled up like a snowman.

“Hallo, Martha Sue. Vie gehts?” A doubtful smile played at Yost’s mouth.

Yost Beiler? Mammi had brought Martha Sue to Huckleberry Hill to match her up with Yost Beiler from Charm, Ohio?

Mammi stood and clapped her hands, obviously willing to overlook the transgression of early arrival. “Invite him in, Martha. I’d like everybody to meet him.”

Martha Sue stepped back so Yost could come into the house, but as soon as he crossed the threshold, Mammi’s smile stiffened. “You’re not Vernon Schmucker.”

Puzzled, Yost looked behind him and turned back to Mammi. “Um, nae, I’m not. I just came to take Martha Sue back to Charm.”

Martha Sue folded her arms. “You’re not taking me anywhere.”

Yost frowned. “I’m sorry. Poor choice of words.” He looked at Mammi. “I came to beg Martha Sue to come back.”

Martha Sue’s heart beat an irregular rhythm. This was one of the things she most adored about Yost but also made her the most aggravated. Yost was always willing to lay his heart out for everyone to see. She would have to be equally as blunt, and she hated hurting him. “I’m not going back,” she said.

“Of course you’re not going back,” Mammi said. “You haven’t met Vernon Schmucker yet.”

Yost’s expression fell. “Who . . . who is Vernon Schmucker?”

Mammi’s look of confusion faded, and she gave Yost a genuine smile. “This isn’t your fault, young man. How could you have known what I had planned for Martha Sue? We’d love it if you stayed for dinner, but I would be wonderful grateful if you would leave before seven. It would be quite awkward if Vernon showed up and Martha Sue’s boyfriend was here.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Martha Sue said, but she said it gently, almost regretfully, because she just couldn’t be harsh with Yost, not after everything that had gone on between them. He’d made a lot of effort to come all this way.

Mammi seemed unruffled. “Ach, Felty, this is more exciting than I could have hoped. A love triangle.”

Yost glanced at Martha Sue, seeking her approval, which he wasn’t going to get. “I’d love to stay for dinner.”

Mammi shook Yost’s hand. “Well, then, welcome, and Frehlicher Grischtdaag.”

“Merry Christmas to you too,” Yost said.

Mammi took Yost’s coat, hat, and scarf and led him to the sofa. “Now Martha Sue will have two men to choose from.” Martha Sue pressed her lips together as Mammi showed Yost her latest knitting project and gave him a pot holder to take home, even though he wasn’t Vernon Schmucker.

There was nothing Martha Sue could do but ignore Yost completely and help the others get Christmas dinner on the table. She barely paid attention as Titus and Moses engaged Yost in a conversation about farming and what crops Yost was going to plant this year. She didn’t even notice when Yost told her cousins about his son, Jonah, and about how his first wife had died nine years ago. She couldn’t have cared less when Yost recounted his bus ride to Bonduel in the heavy snowstorm and how he had hired a driver to bring him here to Huckleberry Hill.

Yost helped Moses and Zach carry the sofa into the back hall, and they quickly set up two folding tables for die kinner in the great room. The adults used the big table that Dawdi had built for Mammi when they were first married. That table had seen thirteen children come and go, plus too many relatives and friends to count.

Because Mammi and Dawdi had taken so long to tell the story of how they met, dinner was almost an hour late, which meant they had fifteen minutes to eat before Vernon Schmucker arrived. Martha Sue’s dread grew like poison ivy. She did not want to eat Christmas Eve dinner while Yost stared at her with those piercing blue eyes. She didn’t want to think about how far Yost had come only to be rejected. Again. She didn’t want to be reminded about how much she loved him while trying to gag down Mammi’s cheesy jalapeno bread. She most certainly didn’t want to have second thoughts about her decision. What was done was done, and it was best if Yost moved on with his life. Martha Sue would never move on with hers.

What made it worse was that Mammi had already found a potential husband for Martha Sue, and Martha Sue didn’t want to meet him. She most certainly didn’t want Yost to meet him. Yost would be hurt at the thought of Martha Sue marrying someone else, and he didn’t deserve even one more ounce of heartache. She just wanted him to be happy—wildly, perfectly happy—without Martha Sue in his life. Was that too much to ask?

Maybe the cousins and aunts and uncles thought they were being kind or maybe they were teasing her, but when they all sat down to eat, they arranged themselves so that Martha Sue and Yost were forced to sit next to each other. Martha Sue profoundly felt the awkwardness of the moment. Her face got warm, and her ears started ringing. Ach, to be anywhere but here! Was it too cold to spend Christmas Eve in the barn with the cow? She kept her head down and tried to make herself invisible. If no one noticed her, she might be able to get through dinner without being sick.

After silent prayer, Mammi passed her cheesy jalapeno bread around the table. “Now, Yost,” she said, “I hope you don’t think I’m being rude, but I don’t want Martha Sue making any final decisions about marriage until she meets Vernon.”

Yost nodded in his solemn, stoic fashion. “Even though I want Martha Sue to pick me, I want her to be certain of her choice.”

A few uncomfortable seconds of silence followed when Martha Sue was sure every eye at the table was on her. They no doubt wondered why she was so cruel to a man who was clearly in love with her. Zach Reynolds must have noticed Martha Sue’s distress, because he started in on a wonderful, horrible story about a leg amputation he’d performed last week. Zach almost never talked about medical procedures during dinner, but he must have recognized that this was an emergency. Martha Sue was deeply grateful.

Soon, all the family but Martha Sue and Yost were eating and visiting and laughing. Martha Sue nibbled on a piece of corn, and Yost had taken three sips of water. He leaned closer to her and whispered, “Who is Vernon Schmucker?” Yost was unfailingly kind. There wasn’t an ounce of censure in his voice.

Martha Sue nearly choked on a kernel of corn. She took a drink of water. “I . . . I don’t know him.”

“But you came all this way to meet him?”

“I didn’t come all this way to meet anybody. Mammi invited me, and you know very well why I had to leave.”

“You didn’t have to leave,” he said. His voice was raw with pain, even as his expression was unreadable. He was obviously trying to keep his emotions in check for the relatives’ benefit. His eyes searched her face. She had to look away. “Please won’t you come back? I’ve missed you. I’ve missed your smile and your laugh. It seems like you used to laugh almost as often as you took a breath.”

She swallowed hard and tamped down the regret that threatened to bubble out of her throat. She couldn’t indulge in regret. Regret would lead to uncertainty, and uncertainty would lead to giving in. She had to be strong for both Yost and herself. “Where is Jonah?” she said, because changing the subject was easier than talking about things that couldn’t be changed.

He winced as if she’d poked him with a pin. “Spending Christmas with my mamm and dat.”

“And he doesn’t mind that you’re here?”

Yost looked stricken. He closed his eyes and lowered his head. “You know very well that he does.”

She shouldn’t have asked that. It only hurt Yost to be reminded. But maybe he needed the reminder. His coming here meant he had forgotten why they couldn’t be married.

Dawdi piled a heaping helping of mashed potatoes on his plate. “So, Yost, tell us about yourself. All we know is that you like our granddaughter enough to take the twelve-hour trip to Bonduel in a snowstorm.” He stroked his beard. “And that you’re married or were once married.” Married Amish men grew be. . .