Free A Bee in Her Bonnet by Jennifer Beckstrand Page A

sure Bitsy washed Poppy’s knee properly, but he wondered if he should have been staring so faithfully at her exposed leg. He didn’t want her to think he had any interest in it.
    When Bitsy washed the cut, it started bleeding hard. Luke filled another bowl at the sink, and Bitsy squeezed the clean water onto the wound to flush it out. Cleaning it made it look that much worse. Wouldn’t Poppy consider getting stitches?
    He didn’t need to ask. The set of her jaw told him all he needed to know. Poppy was immovable.
    He heard the words come out of his mouth before he had time to think. “I could glue it back together for you.” Why not? He’d glued his lip back together once. If she refused to get stitches, super glue was a gute second choice.
    Poppy eyed him suspiciously. What had he done to make her so doubtful? Dan said he was grumpy, but he was only ill-tempered when people deserved it.
    Poppy always deserved it.
    Oh. Well. Okay.
    Maybe he’d given her reason to be wary. He did, after all, just ask for permission to touch her knee, and he’d acted pretty grumpy about it.
    â€œI thought you wanted me to get stitches,” she said.
    â€œIt’s plain you aren’t going to follow my advice, and that knee needs something. I glued my lip together before. Remember?”
    â€œYou glued your lip together?” Bitsy said. She looked to the ceiling. “Lord, where are You hiding all the smart boys?”
    Bitsy had a reputation for talking to Gotte right out loud. At least Luke knew right where she stood with heaven. He grinned and pointed to the tiny scar on his upper lip. “I glued a cut closed. It might work on Poppy’s knee, Lord willing. Do you have super glue?”
    Bitsy nodded. “Any Amish fraa worth her salt keeps super glue on hand. You never know when you’ll have to glue something back on, like the cat’s tail.”
    Luke studied her face to see if she was joking. He couldn’t tell. He glanced furtively at the cat, but its tail, if it had one, was tucked underneath its body. “Okay then,” he said. “If you agree, Poppy, I’ll see what I can do about your knee.”
    â€œWill I still be able to help with the chicken coop?”
    He thought about telling her no, but he suspected that if he said no to the chicken coop, she’d say no to the glue. “After I put you back together, you shouldn’t bend your knee or the cut will tear apart.”
    â€œI can hammer boards with one leg out straight.”
    Of course she could. She’d do it standing on her head if she had a mind to.
    He tried not to growl. “You can still help with the chicken coop if you promise not to do anything to rip the wound open.”
    Poppy frowned as if she wanted to argue but couldn’t decide if she should. “I promise.” She dabbed blood from her knee with Bitsy’s towel. “What do I need to do?”
    Luke felt like smiling, but Poppy would probably take any show of happiness as gloating. “Bitsy has cleaned it out well.”
    â€œI’m glad you approve, doctor,” Bitsy said.
    He ignored Poppy’s unsympathetic aendi . “It needs to be as dry as possible.” He scooted a chair in front of Poppy. “Prop your leg on this, and keep your knee straight.”
    Bitsy rummaged through a drawer for the super glue while Luke washed his hands. After taking the glue from Bitsy, he positioned himself on the floor next to Poppy’s leg, and she handed him the towel.
    She leaned in to watch him work, and he caught a whiff of that pleasant honey-and-vanilla scent she always seemed to carry with her. Today the vanilla had a slight hint of cinnamon that made him remember that wonderful- gute apple pie with cinnamon. He loved cinnamon. And apples. And pie. Poppy Christner pie.
    He cleared his throat and concentrated on the slow work of drying the moisture from Poppy’s wound, trying his best not