by Beth Wiseman
The laughter started up again, until she finally forced herself under control. “I haven’t been completely honest.” She looked up. Forgive me, Gott. “But I assure you there is nothing inappropriate going on with me and Gus. The fact that you would even think that is . . .” She covered her mouth as another round of laughter built up.
Naomi grinned. “Too bad. I was hoping to lock you two in the basement.”
“Stop. Stop. Stop.” Lizzie stood up. “Then why have you been sneaking around and having him take you places?”
Esther didn’t think she’d laughed so hard in years. This had been a good day in so many ways, and she couldn’t leave Lizzie and Naomi in suspense any longer. She explained everything.
“You should have told us.” Naomi frowned. “We could have been there for you.”
Lizzie covered her face with her hands and shook her head, grumbling. After she lowered her hands, she said, “Don’t ever keep anything like that from me again. I know why you did it, but don’t do it again.” She threw her arms in the air. “See how lying affects those around you! I almost had a heart attack thinking Gus Owens could end up being mei bruder-in-law.”
Esther chuckled. “I can’t believe you two even came up with such silliness.” She raised a finger. “However, I did get to know Gus a little better, and as much as he tries to hide it, there is some gut in him, and—”
Lizzie covered her ears. “La, la, la, la. I don’t want to hear it.” She went into her bedroom and closed the door behind her. Esther turned to Naomi, who grinned and shrugged.
“It was hard to imagine.” Naomi giggled. “But I’m just glad you’re all right.” After a big hug, Naomi asked to see Esther’s food list.
“I can make some adjustments to our menu.” Naomi eyed the items Esther shouldn’t eat.
“Nee, don’t make changes for me. Lizzie likes her fried and spicy foods, and I don’t want her to be denied. I’ll eat what I know I’m allowed and together we can probably come up with some new recipes.” She shook her head, grinning. “Me and Gus.” Then she roared with laughter again. “I’m going to go take a nap,” she managed to say as she walked to her bedroom.
* * *
Naomi spent the next few days preparing for the seven guests they had coming to stay at the inn, all Englisch. Lizzie and Esther helped, but Naomi handled most of the work by herself. It kept her distracted, but Amos still crept into her thoughts daily. She wondered if he thought about her too.
Their first visitors showed up near the three o’clock check-in time—two older women from Georgia who were traveling farther north. They were staying two nights. A group of three women, also older, arrived a bit later from Indianapolis. They were simply on holiday to “experience the Amish life.” The other four guests would trickle in over the next few days.
After supper, Naomi cleared the table and made sure everyone had what they needed for the evening. Then she put on her heavy coat, readied her buggy, and left to meet Thomas for supper. He’d been good about giving her some time, and even though it hadn’t been very long, Naomi had sorted out her feelings and knew what she needed to tell him. Postponing it any longer seemed cruel.
He stood up from the table at Gasthof Village when Naomi walked in. She’d insisted on meeting him there so she could control how long she stayed. The restaurant wasn’t a place either of them frequented. It was mostly a tourist attraction tailored toward the English, but the food was good. Naomi also knew Thomas wouldn’t hug her, try to kiss her, or show any public signs of affection.
“You look beautiful,” he said as he pulled out her chair.
“Danki.” She willed herself not to cry and managed to order an iced tea when the server came, but once they were alone again, her bottom lip began to tremble. The restaurant had a lavish buffet with a variety of offerings, but neither of them moved.
Thomas’s eyes began to water when Naomi’s did. “Don’t do this,” he said in a shaky voice.
“I’m sorry.” She blotted her eyes with her napkin. “I think a part of me will always love you, Thomas, but I don’t want to marry you.”
He folded his hands on the table and stared at them for a few seconds before looking up at her. “Is this because of Amos or because I left and was with another woman?”
Naomi still didn’t know what with meant, but it didn’t matter anymore. “I guess both.” She paused, trying to recall the way she’d practiced the conversation in her mind. “I prayed for you to come back. I waited. It was all I wanted—to be your fiancée again. But if you loved me as much as you say you do, you wouldn’t have left me in the first place.”
“It’s Amos.” Even though tears pooled in the corners of his eyes, his face turned red. “He did this.”
“Thomas . . .” She took a deep breath. “Amos is gone. And has been for several days. I don’t know if I will ever see him again. But having another man show me attention gave me hope that there is someone out there for me, someone who will never leave me.” Even though her feelings for Amos ran deeper than she was letting on, she didn’t have the heart to share that with Thomas. It served no purpose.
“Naomi, I promise you with everything I am that I will never leave you again. You are mei number one, always and forever.”
She bit her bottom lip so hard she feared it might bleed. When she finally opened her mouth to speak, her voice felt shaky. “But”—she twisted the napkin in her lap, as a tear trailed down her cheek—“you’re not mei number one anymore.”
His face reddened even more. “Then it is Amos.”
“I honestly don’t know. I haven’t known him very long, and I don’t know if I’ll ever see him again.” Naomi paused as Amos’s face appeared in her mind. “Whether or not he is the one for me is not the point. I’m telling you that I know you are not the one for me, and I’m so sorry.” She dabbed at her eyes, then noticed two servers, both young women, staring at them.
“Is it because I didn’t give you enough time? I can give you more time.”
Naomi recognized his pain. She could practically feel it boring into her heart. But it would be cruel not to be honest with him.
“I don’t need more time.” She spoke the words as firmly as she could. She slid back her chair, feeling like she was going to burst into a stream of tears any second.
“I’m sorry,” she said again, then she walked out of the restaurant.
* * *
Later in the evening Naomi decided to write Amos back. She was still confused by his letter. Parts of it sounded joyful, but also infused with regret. Was he sincere about giving her time to work out her feelings for Thomas? Did he even want to hear from her again?
She turned up the propane heater in her room, then scurried into bed and slid under the covers. After pulling a notepad and pen from her nightstand, she nervously tapped the pen against the paper as she tried to put into words how she was feeling. She hadn’t thought she should write him until she had ended things with Thomas, but she’d been truthful when she told Thomas her decision wasn’t because of Amos. Something had been lost between her and Thomas, even though it had taken her a while to see it and then to figure out that it couldn’t be found.
She reread Amos’s letter, then finally put the pen to paper. The red pen.
Dear Amos,
I regret that we weren’t able to say goodbye, but I appreciate that you understood mei need to work through mei feelings for Thomas. I owed him that. In the end I came to the conclusion that he is not the right man for mei. I want to be someone’s first choice with no doubts. It was difficult to tell him I did not want to pursue our relationship, but it was the right thing to do. I no longer feel that he is mei number one so to continue our engagement wouldn’t have been fair to him.
I am happy I was able to bring some joy and laughter into your life. Spending time with you allowed me to crawl out of the dark place I had been hiding in too. I can still hear your laughter. I can still see your smile. And I can picture that intense look you get when
you paint—so serious. I, too, shall return to painting, but not without thinking about you. No more gray tints for mei either, only colors that lead me onto the right path, one filled with love.
She stopped and read his letter again. In some ways, there seemed to be a finality to it, especially what he wrote at the end—To sum it up, you brought joy back into mei life, showed me how to laugh again, and helped me recapture a part of myself I thought was gone forever. I will always be grateful to you for that. I will pray for you. I will miss you. But mostly, I hope you find the peace in your heart that I know you are searching for. Then he had signed it Fondly, Amos.
Fondly? She tapped the pen to the pad again. Then she wrote how she felt.
I am wildly attracted to you, pretty sure I’m in love with you even though we haven’t known each other long, and I wish you’d get back here as soon as possible!
Growling, she squeezed her eyes closed, knowing she could never send such a letter. She ripped it up into tiny pieces and dropped it in the trash can by her bed.
If Amos wanted her to write him back, wouldn’t he have said so? The finality of his words echoed in her mind, over and over.
Twenty-two
Amos dialed the number for The Peony Inn, the same way he had every day for the past week. Like Esther and Lizzie, Amos’s family had a phone in their barn. He hung up before the call went through. Again. Some folks had cell phones these days, but he didn’t and neither did Naomi.
He’d been home over two weeks with no reply letter. She’d obviously stepped back into her role as Thomas’s fiancée. Amos wanted to be happy for her, but he hadn’t realized how much he cared for her until he’d been away from her for a few days.
He found himself loitering around the mailbox daily between two and two-thirty, the mailman’s regular delivery time. Nothing. He hadn’t been completely truthful in his letter to her. Yes, she’d shown him how to laugh again and to open his heart, but she’d also stolen a chunk of his heart.
He had tried to paint down by the creek, but when the grayish tints started to show back up in his paintings, he gave up. Some days, he really was grateful to have known her. Other days, he wished he’d never met her. God had given him a glimpse of what a second chance could look like, but now all he could do was think about what he’d lost. Again.
He’d only loved two women in his life. He seriously doubted there would be a third. But could he really love Naomi after such a short time? Or was their only role in each other’s life simply to bring the other out of the pit of despair they’d been living in? Each day without seeing Naomi seemed like one more step backward.
As he stared at the phone, he wondered what she was doing. Was she with Thomas? Was she still painting?
He had just pried open a can of glossy sealer so he could apply the final coat to a special-order table, when he heard the mailman slide to a stop in front of their mailbox. Instinctively, he set the paintbrush down to go check, then thought better of it. If he hadn’t heard from her by now, he wasn’t going to.
With Thanksgiving in a week, he reminded himself that he had a lot to be thankful for—his family, his good health, his business.
But his heart just wasn’t in it.
* * *
Esther and Lizzie were sipping coffee at the kitchen table after they said goodbye to the last of their guests. So far, they didn’t have any reservations for Thanksgiving Day. That could change, but Esther suspected most folks would rather be with their families.
“Where’s Naomi?” She asked, realizing she hadn’t seen her since breakfast.
“She walked down to the pond.” Lizzie sighed. “But she didn’t take her painting supplies.”
“She seems depressed again. Do you think it’s because she and Thomas broke up, or because Amos is gone?”
“Ach, it’s because Amos is gone.” Lizzie smiled, dentures perfectly in place. “And I know that to be a fact. I was upstairs last week, and Naomi had written Amos a letter. I was emptying the trash, and I saw all these tiny little pieces of paper. One caught my eye because it said, Dear Amos.” She lowered her eyes. “I tried to piece them all back together again, but it was impossible. There were just too many of them.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I did.”
“Nee, you didn’t.” Esther reconsidered. Maybe Lizzie did tell her. Neither of their memories were what they used to be. “I considered calling Amos’s mudder to see if she thought he was pining over Naomi, but since he hasn’t called or written, I decided not to.”
“They’re meant to be together,” Lizzie said. “Calling off the engagement with Thomas just confirmed what we already knew.”
“I think Naomi would have eventually called off the engagement anyway.” Esther got up and poured herself another cup of coffee, then refilled Lizzie’s cup. “Mary and John are coming over for Thanksgiving dinner.”
Lizzie’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? We ask them every year, and they always decline. It hurts mei heart to know they’re alone on the holiday. Their families live so far away. I understand why they moved here for John’s job, but no one should be alone on Thanksgiving.”
“I’m glad you feel that way.” Esther smiled. “Because Gus is coming this year too.”
Lizzie slouched in her chair and closed her eyes. “The holiday is ruined! Why in the world did you ask him?”
“I’ve never told you before, but I’ve asked him every year, and he’s told me a firm no every time. But this year he said yes.” Esther smiled again.
Still slouched in the chair, Lizzie wiggled a finger at Esther. “Are you sure you and him aren’t having some kind of—”
“Ach, hush now. Of course not.” Esther chuckled. “I can’t help but laugh every time I think about you and Naomi having that notion in your heads.”
“Then why is he coming this year? You know he will be his rude, grumpy self. Doesn’t seem fair to the rest of us, Esther.” Lizzie rolled her lip into a pout.
“I don’t know why he chose to come this year. But you are going to be nice to him. And I mean it, Lizzie. I’m going to have a talk with Gus about the proper way to behave, and I expect you to treat him kindly.”
“I just won’t talk at all.” Lizzie held her pout as she ran a finger around the rim of her cup. “But I’m telling you, that man will never change.”
Esther thought about Gus’s references to God in the past. It sounded like Gus had a relationship with God at some point. Maybe he could find his way back to Him.
“Just do your best to be nice to him. I’m going to head over there now. It’s supposed to freeze tonight.” She went to the counter and picked up the slice of chocolate pie she’d already packed.
“And you take him pie most days.” Lizzie let out an exaggerated sigh. “You’re a gut woman, Esther. He surely doesn’t deserve it.”
“I’ll be back.”
Esther left Lizzie pouting in the kitchen and went to the living room. She pushed her arms into the sleeves of her heavy jacket and placed her bonnet on over her prayer covering.
When she arrived at Gus’s cottage, he opened the door before she knocked. He was looking like the old Gus, a bit unkept, hair too long, beard scraggly, and wearing a stained white T-shirt. Esther saw Whiskers behind him, sleeping on a rug in front of the fireplace.
He held out his hand for the pie. “It’s been three days.”
“Gus, it rained yesterday. You’re lucky I came today. It’s cold out here, and tonight it will be even colder.” She cleared her throat. “May I come in, please? I need to talk to you.”
He pushed his chest out, squinting at her. “What about?”
Esther shivered. “I’ll tell you when you step aside and let me in.”
Grumbling, he moved out of the way. Things inside had returned to the way they’d always been and a strange odor hung in the air.
Esther glanced around for a place to sit and chose a rocking chair. Gus obviously always sat in the same spot on the couch since
it was worn down and lower than the rest of the couch. A paper plate with a half-eaten sandwich was sitting on the end table next to that end of the couch, along with three glasses, a stack of newspapers, and a banana.
After she was seated, she said, “We are very happy you are coming for Thanksgiving.”
Gus laughed heartily, jowls jiggling. He sat on the couch, then leaned forward. “I’m only going cuz it will upset Lizzie.”
Esther folded her hands in her lap. “That’s what I’d like to talk to you about. I have already spoken to Lizzie about this matter. I told her I expect her to be gracious. We all have a lot to be thankful for. And I expect you to show her the same kindness.” She wanted to tell him to clean himself up but decided Gus was a work in progress, and she shouldn’t push it.
“I’ve changed my mind. I ain’t going.” He crossed an ankle over his knee. “I don’t know why I said I would anyway.”
Esther stood and walked toward him until she was standing right in front of him with her hands on her hips.
“You will be there, Gus Owens. And you will be nice to Lizzie and everyone else in attendance. You will remember to say thank you and please, and you will be polite and grateful.”
Gus’s bushy eyebrows drew inward. “I don’t like this bossy side of you, Esther.” He shook his head. “I ain’t going.”
“Ya, you are.” She grinned. “Or no more pie.” She glared at him. “Ever.”
She walked out, slammed the door to the cottage, and figured Gus would be a no-show for Thanksgiving. But she’d done the best she could.
* * *
Naomi gazed at the sunset. Since the corn had been harvested, the orange rays no longer filtered through the green stalks, but it was still beautiful and worthy of a painting. She’d tried, but without Amos by her side, her painting had reverted to a dull picture of a lovely place.
Even so, she enjoyed standing by the water and watching the sun set. There was something to be said for serenity. When such peacefulness wraps around a person, it spills over into everything they do. Without it, things can never be as we want them to be, and that included painting.
