Amish Days
Naomi’s Story
A Three-Story-Bundle Amish Romance
by Brenda Maxfield
Copyright © 2016 Tica House Publishing LLC All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means, including scanning, photocopying, or otherwise without prior written permission of the copyright holder.
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
1.Amish Days: Byler’s Bed & Breakfast
2.Amish Days: The Englischer Stayed Twice
3.Amish Days: Naomi’s Choice
Amish Days
Byler’s Bed and Breakfast
An Amish Romance Short Story
by Brenda Maxfield
Copyright © 2016 Tica House Publishing All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means, including scanning, photocopying, or otherwise without prior written permission of the copyright holder.
One
The thief cometh not, but for to steal, and to kill, and to destroy: I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly.
John 10:10 (King James Version)
Naomi Byler stared at the ledger book, praying the numbers would magically morph into something with promise. Maybe if she squeezed her hazel eyes closed and then fluttered them open again, the minus sign would become a plus, and all would be well. But she knew it was hopeless. She blinked twice. It was no use.
She worked to keep her thin shoulders from slumping. She spent too much of each day curled in on herself, shielding her heart. As if that would help.
“Mama!” Katy cried as she rushed into the front room where Naomi sat at the heavy oak desk. “Ben’s awake.”
Naomi gazed at her eleven-year-old daughter. Katy stood before her, panting slightly. As usual, strands of auburn hair had escaped her kapp and wisped about her face as if she were standing in a continual breeze. Her large blue eyes, looking as if they held a thousand mysteries, stared back at her mother.
“Is he up, then?” Naomi asked.
“Nee. He’s rustling about, though, and should be down in a minute. Should I pour the milk?”
“Jah. I’ll be right in.”
Katy ran off to the kitchen, and Naomi rose from the desk. Looking at the books so early in the morning did her no favors. The mood was now set for the day. She knew it wasn’t wise to sit and figure the numbers over and over, but they plagued her mind in the wee hours of the night, and nearly every morning saw her sitting at the desk her brother-in-law had made for her husband, Isaac. Her dead husband, Isaac. Naomi sucked in air and hesitated before joining her daughter. She couldn’t let Katy see her again with tears in her eyes. The poor child had witnessed her mother crying too many times of late.
She squared her shoulders and walked with determination into the kitchen. Katy had lit the lamp in the early morning darkness and was busy pouring the milk. “Mama, didn’t you make the eggs yet?”
Why, of course, she had. Naomi glanced at the stove. It sat there, pristinely clean, with nary a skillet in sight. She swallowed hard and realized that once again, she’d neglected her basic duties. Not only neglected them, but didn’t even remember that she hadn’t done them. What was happening to her? Did Isaac take her mind with him when he passed?
“I thought we could make the eggs together,” Naomi said, as if that had been her plan all along.
Katy gave her mother a questioning look but then smiled. “I like cooking eggs with you.”
Bless you, child. Naomi knew her daughter was wiser than her years, and thanked God for her. Katy took the bowl of eggs from the fridge and carried them to the counter. “I’ll collect today’s eggs later this morning, Mama. Don’t you worry.”
Naomi gave her a grateful smile. “I’m not worried, Katy girl.” A flash of guilt swept through her. More and more often, Naomi felt their roles were reversed and Katy had become the adult, and Naomi had become the child. It wasn’t good. Or right. But Naomi hardly had the energy to turn it around.
Lately, she hadn’t the energy for much of anything. Except worry. Somehow, she always managed to have energy for that.
“Morning, Mama,” Ben said from the doorway. His sandy blond hair was tussled, and he had sleep in his eyes. Naomi opened her arms to him, and he ran to her, squeezing her around the waist.
“Did you sleep well, little man?”
Ben nodded and let her go. “I’m hungry.”
“We’re cooking eggs,” Katy said, breaking the last two into the skillet. A pleasant sizzle filled the air. “I’m gonna fry them this time.” She held the spatula up like a banner. “Mama, I’m not gonna break any of the yolks. You just watch and see.”
“That’s my girl,” Naomi said. She gave a small chuckle. “Katy, you’re going to fly right past me as the cook of the house.”
Katy grinned, a happy flush covering her cheeks. “Ah, Mama. I could never cook as good as you.”
In truth, Naomi was an excellent cook. Isaac used to brag about the fluffiness of her biscuits and the flakiness of her pie crusts. And then he would kiss her cheek—right in front of the children. Naomi loved it. She loved him. She had often wondered if Isaac was a particularly affectionate man because both his parents died when he was young. He was raised by his eldest brother back in Pennsylvania; in effect, becoming one of his brother’s brood. So Isaac knew the brevity of life and had relished every moment.
The familiar tightness in her chest made it difficult to breathe. She looked away, pretending to need something in a far cupboard.
“Take the glasses to the table, Ben. Okay?” Katy directed.
Ben obediently took two glasses of milk to the table. In a moment, he was back for the third.
“I did it!” Katy cried, brandishing the spatula. “Look, Mama! No broken yolks!”
Naomi moved to the stove and inspected the eggs. “No broken yolks,” she repeated. “Good job.”
No broken yolks. But plenty was broken in the Byler household—ever since the accident that had snatched the lives of her husband and her parents from the earth. Naomi watched her two children fussing over the plates and eggs and thanked God for the thousandth time that she hadn’t let them climb into the van that late winter morning.
Her mind traveled back to the fateful day, as it often did. She wished she could forget it. Forget it all. But every detail was branded into her heart and her mind, and she couldn’t shake them nor stop them from playing over and over and over again.
“Come on, Naomi. The kids will like the outing,” Isaac had urged her.
It wasn’t often she had countered Isaac’s wishes, but that morning she was sewing outfits for both children, and she’d wanted them there to try the pieces on. She didn’t want to wait till late afternoon when they would return.
“And the kids will enjoy seeing the Grayson’s llamas,” Isaac had continued.
Which was true. Especially Ben. That child loved everything that breathed. But for some reason, Naomi had held firm. “They can go with you next time,” she’d said. “I know Dat will be going back soon to pick up more seed.”
Her dat had only recently bought the farm they all lived on, bringing them to Hollybrook, Indiana, and a new district of Amish folk. He’d been toying with the idea of leasing land in Pennsylvania where they had lived, but when this land ca
me up for sale, he’d jumped at the chance. He had taken out a mortgage, something Amish were averse to doing. But buying land, farming equipment, and perhaps even a carriage, were considered acceptable reasons to carry a debt. And paying it off in a timely manner was considered a moral obligation.
And so her dat had taken out the loan with the intent to pay it back well before it went full term. To that end, he was determined to grow the best, heartiest crops of wheat in the community. He had it in mind to collect special summer seed from the Graysons who lived upstate. Mr. Grayson claimed his seed produced a harvest fifty percent richer and more prolific than regular seed. Thing was, the local Feed & Supply wouldn’t carry it. So Dat, Mamm, and Isaac had hired a Mennonite driver to take them north to pick it up personally.
It was silly, really. Three people to collect seed. But the winter had been long, and they had all felt the effects of cabin fever. So, the trip was planned for them all. But Naomi had been stubborn.
Even now, she wondered whether it was God who had kept her and the children from taking that trip. She shuddered, and her hand went to her throat. It made no sense. If God could keep her and the children from going, why hadn’t He kept them all from going?
When her parents and husband hadn’t arrived back that evening, Naomi let the children stay up late to wait for them. Dat always held the evening Bible reading and prayer, and it didn’t feel right to go to bed without him leading it.
Naomi had been in the kitchen fussing with a special treat of hot chocolate when she heard Katy’s voice.
“Mama! Look at the lights!”
Then Ben had chimed in. “Police!” he cried with excitement. “Mama! The police are visiting us.”
Naomi’s heart had lurched to her throat, and she went running to the front room. She pushed the children behind her and flung open the door. Two state patrolmen had gotten out of the flashing car and were climbing the steps of the porch. Naomi watched them move closer as if in slow motion. One of them raised his foot and placed it on the first step. Then he gave his partner a solemn glance. His partner frowned and mounted the step behind him. While Naomi’s breath froze in her throat, they came nearer and nearer and grew larger and larger.
She stared at them through a veil of tears which hovered on her thick lashes, refusing to fall. Katy peered out from behind her and then stepped to her side. Ben stayed put. Naomi felt him grip the back of her dress in his fist.
“Ma’am,” the first officer said. His voice was rich and low and heavy with regret. “Are you Mrs. Byler? Mrs. Naomi Byler?”
She nodded, surprised her joints worked and that she could move at all.
“Would the children like to wait for you inside?” the other officer asked. He smiled at Katy and craned his head a bit, as if trying to get a look at Ben.
Naomi worked to swallow. Her throat had gone bone dry. She blinked like a child who had spied a monster lurking in the shadows. “Nee,” she managed to eke out. “They can hear what you have to say.”
The second officer shuffled his foot over the well-worn porch step. He coughed and glanced at his buddy.
“Well, then,” the first officer said. “We’re very sorry to inform you that there’s been an accident.”
Katy grabbed Naomi’s hand tight. Naomi winced, not taking her eyes from the officer.
“Your parents and your husband…” Here he paused as if he was having trouble bringing himself to say the words. “I’m sorry.” Another pause. “They did not survive the crash.”
Naomi’s knees buckled, and the officer reached out, grabbing her before she fell to the porch. The world swam before Naomi’s eyes, and she heard Katy cry out. Ben burst into tears.
“Get her inside,” said the second man. “Take her inside.”
Together, the two of them half carried her into the front room where they set her on the davenport. Katy leaned close, her eyes round and full of tears. “Mama, what do they mean? Are they dead?”
Ben stood in the middle of the room, wailing.
The first officer squatted before Naomi. “Ma’am, can we get you anything? Is there anyone to call?”
The second officer swatted his shoulder and gave him a look. The first officer’s face turned red as he must have realized there would be no phones.
A sharp agonizing pain seared through Naomi’s heart. Dead? All three of them? “What happened?” she uttered, reaching toward Ben. Ben ran into her arms and fell against her shoulder. Katy collapsed next to her on the couch.
“A mini-bus ran a stop sign. It was going too fast, well over the speed limit. It barreled right into the van.”
“And our driver?”
“In the hospital. I’m not sure if he’ll pull through.”
Naomi’s head fell back against the couch. Her mind scrambled, trying to make sense of it.
“I want my dat!” Katy sniveled. “Mama, where is he?”
Naomi put her arm around Katy’s shoulders, and the girl slumped into Ben against Naomi’s chest.
“Where are they?” Naomi asked.
“At the coroner’s. In town.”
Naomi nodded, and for a split second she thought she would vomit. She swallowed again, hard, forcing the bile back down her throat.
“Is there anything we can do for you?” the second officer asked. “Anything? Anything at all?”
She shook her head as a thick fog settled over her.
Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. A sharp pain came alive, tearing through her lungs. The fog swirled about her head and disappeared, leaving everything in sharp focus.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice brittle. She stood, and the children fell together behind her. “I’ll see you to the door.”
“Oh, ma’am, that’s not necessary,” the first man said.
She moved to the door as if her limbs were connected by moving screws. She opened the door, and both men retreated down the steps. The second officer paused at the bottom step and looked back up at her, his wide-set brown eyes full of sorrow.
That next week, after the nightmare of funerals and mountains of casseroles and weeping friends passed, she and the children had moved from the daadi haus into the big house. And it wasn’t long before she forced herself to open the ledger books and try to make sense of what she saw. She had always been good at figures, but her eighth grade education hadn’t prepared her for what she now faced. She had no knowledge of how mortgage interest worked, nor where to go to learn.
All she did know was that she needed a great sum of money every month to keep afloat. A great sum of money she did not have. Since then, every month saw the burden that pressed on her shoulders get larger and grow more wieldy.
She shuddered. Enough. Enough.
“Take the plates in, Katy,” she directed her daughter.
Katy had already dished up the eggs and set a thick slice of bread on each plate. She gladly did her mother’s bidding and took the breakfast in to the dining table. Ben was already seated, rubbing at his eyes.
“I need you children to muck out the barn this morning,” Naomi instructed. “And perhaps in the afternoon, we can have a bit of a picnic on the front porch.”
Katy’s eyes went round, and she stared at her mother. “Really? We can have dinner outside?”
Naomi nearly wept at the look of excitement on her daughter’s face. “Jah. Why not?”
Ben grinned. “A picnic.” He shook his head and reached for the bread on his plate.
“Benjamin!” Naomi scolded. “Let us give the silent blessing first, jah?”
Dutifully, Ben folded his hands. The three of them bowed their heads. Naomi worked to keep her mind off her worries and focus on God. She thanked Him for the health of her children and the sunny weather and… She tried to go further, but her mind flapped back to the ledger books. She sighed and gave a small cough, signaling the end of the prayer.
The three of them tucked into the food, Katy jabbering about her friend Liz next door, who had named every one of their fourteen hens.
> Two
Naomi stood over the counter, dots of wayward flour up her arms. She pressed her hands into the bread dough, knotting and pulling and smoothing and plumping. She’d been kneading it for nearly twenty minutes, much longer than necessary. She’d probably have a loaf of rubber when it was baked. She sighed. That’s what you got when your mind wasn’t on the work at hand.
She gazed out the kitchen window and saw Zachariah King approach the house. His dark blue shirt hung a bit rumpled off his broad shoulders, and the left side was coming untucked, barely held in place by a black suspender. He wore a straw hat, which he removed as he drew close to the steps. He came around to the front door as if he were a proper guest, instead of the young farmer who was leasing her land. She’d told him time and again that he could come to the side door, but he always refused with an embarrassed look and his eyes cast to the ground.
Naomi blew out her breath and ran her hands over the edge of her kapp, ensuring that every hair was tucked securely in place. Then she smoothed down her dress, eliminating any wrinkles. Truth was that even when feeling her worst, Naomi Byler looked tidy and in control.
Too bad I don’t feel in control.
Isaac used to call her beautiful. She would feign dismay, knowing that personal vanity was to be avoided at all costs. But secretly, in her heart of hearts, Isaac’s loving compliments made her feel warm and secure and special. She grimaced. Life had now taught her only too well what vanity could bring. She shuddered. Did she really believe her moments of vanity had brought about her tragedy of loss? Did she really believe that’s how life worked?
There was a gentle rap on the front door. She walked to it, opened it wide, and gazed up at Zachariah.
His hat was off, and he fingered the wide brim, circling the diameter again and again with this calloused hands. “I wanted to let you know that I’ll get your payment to you by the end of the week.”
Amish Romance: Naomi's Story: THREE Story BOXED SET: Clean & Wholesome Amish Book Bundle Page 1
