After the children were tucked in for the night, Naomi sat on her bed staring at the flickering light from the lantern. It played against the walls of her room, dancing and casting long, misshapen shadows. She reached into her bedside table and pulled out her tablet and pencil. She scooted back against the headboard and flipped through the pages full of her scrawled words. After the accident, she’d taken to keeping a journal of sorts. She’d had no one to talk to. No one to listen. She could hardly cry out her grief to her children. They had unimaginable depths of their own grief.
Her family hadn’t come to the funerals. Nor had Isaac’s siblings. Naomi truly thought they’d wanted to, but the trip from Pennsylvania was too long, too expensive, and the funerals took place two days after the crash. Afterwards, her brothers had begged her to come back to Pennsylvania to live. Her elder brother Marvin had been quite relentless. But so had Naomi.
She simply couldn’t fathom another massive change to her life. She simply couldn’t. So she limped through the days in a foggy haze, crying whenever the children weren’t within earshot, and holding them when they were.
She resisted the temptation to reread all she’d written in those first few weeks. It only served to make the pain sharper. And she was tired of it. Weary beyond words. She ached for a new beginning. Something she could look forward to. Something to be glad about.
She began writing.
Today marks the first day of the Byler Bed and Breakfast. We have our first guest. He’s a journalist and a nice man.
She paused. And erased.
He’s a journalist. He’s covering the county fair. Writing articles and such. I am charging him one hundred dollars a night, and he’s staying for five. I believe the children are all right with this new endeavor. Katy seems troubled, but I think it’s mostly because nobody has really been in the house except us since the accident. Perhaps I should have spoken with both of them first, but the opportunity was so quick and unexpected, that I leapt at it.
I have wondered what Isaac would think.
Nee. I can’t keep doing this. Isaac is gone. He doesn’t think anything.
Zachariah King stopped by three times today. That is odd. And it troubled me. He made me nervous somehow. One time, during the evening, I wondered if he had interest in me. But, nee. Sometimes I don’t trust my own judgment. But the good news is he will continue to lease the land. I think that if I can get enough guests, and Zach keeps leasing, things will be all right. That is my prayer anyway.
I’m tired. So tired. I’ll write more tomorrow.
Naomi closed her notebook and placed it back in the drawer with her pencil. She snuffed out the lantern and snuggled down in her bed. It was a bit stuffy to be under the covers, but she found the quilt so comforting that she left it on. Within minutes, she was asleep.
****
Early the next morning, Naomi hurried out to the chicken coop to gather eggs. Normally, Katy did the job, but she wasn’t up and about yet. Naomi realized that she hadn’t discussed the hour for breakfast with Mr. Moore the night before, so she wanted to be ready extra early in case he needed to leave for the day soon.
There was a heavy layer of dew on the ground, and her bare feet left wet footprints on the wood base just inside the coop. The wood gave way to dirt and straw though, and Naomi picked her way carefully to the roosting slots. The hens sent up a flurry of dust as they flapped their wings at her arrival. Three of the hens ran crazily around the perimeter, scolding her every move. Naomi laughed at their antics as she collected the eggs.
“You silly hens,” she said. “Quit your fussing. I’ll get your feed soon enough.”
“I thought I heard something,” came a deep voice from outside the pen.
Naomi swirled around and saw Justin grinning at her. “Mr. Moore! You’re up. I’m so sorry. Breakfast isn’t ready yet.”
He waved his hand. “No worries. I haven’t even jogged.”
“Jogged?”
“My daily run.” He looked at a band on his wrist. “I should be back and showered in an hour. Would that be all right for breakfast?”
“Of course.” One of the hens pecked at her toes, and she did a small hip hop dance to get away.
Justin laughed. “You’re mighty brave going in there with no shoes on.”
Naomi shrugged. “They mean no harm. They’re quite friendly, actually.”
“Are they now?”
Naomi put another two eggs in her basket.
“Can I help?” he asked.
“What? You want to gather eggs?”
“Never done it before.”
She stared at him as if he wasn’t a normal person. “Never?”
“Nope.” He opened the screened door and stepped inside. He flinched a bit at the new flurry of excitement his entry caused. “Whoa! Maybe they don’t like males.”
Naomi laughed. “Ah, they just know you haven’t a clue as to what you’re doing.”
“You got that right.”
“Come over here. I haven’t checked those two slots yet. And usually our best layers roost there. Just dig a bit in the straw.”
Justin shooed one of the hens away, and then he reached in and his eyes lit up. “They’re still warm!”
Naomi watched his pleasure with a chuckle. Seeing a grown man excited over finding warm eggs in a chicken coop was an unknown concept to her. She couldn’t get over the fact that this fancy man hadn’t a lick of practical experience.
“Here,” he said proudly, putting three eggs in the basket. “And there’s more. Just a sec…” He dug around and found four more eggs in the slots. He looked so pleased, you’d have thought he’d produced them himself.
“Good job, Mr. Moore.”
“Are we going to eat these eggs for breakfast? The ones I found?”
“We are. How would you like them? Scrambled or fried or boiled?”
“Would fried, sunny-side up, be too much trouble?”
“Mr. Moore, you are my paying guest. It’s not too much trouble. I’ll fry up some bacon, too, and Katy will make up the toast. I’ve got different types of preserves. Would blackberry do?”
He stood there in the middle of a flock of pecking hens with a look of sheer delight on his face. “It will do fine,” he said. “Thank you.”
She laughed again and shook her head. “You’re easy to please.” She opened the door of the coop, and he followed her out. “Breakfast will be ready for you in an hour.”
“Sounds good,” he said and took off at a jog. She watched him as he ran down the drive and onto the road. She would never understand the Englisch person’s penchant for exercising. She got plenty of physical activity by simply going about her chores for the day. She couldn’t imagine adding a morning run for the sole purpose of exercise.
Katy was slicing a loaf of bread when Naomi returned with the eggs. “Thank you, Katy girl. We’ll serve Mr. Moore breakfast in an hour.”
“An hour? Why so late?”
“He’s exercising. Jogging about the county from what I can tell.”
“Jogging about the county? That’s crazy.”
“Watch your tone, daughter. We have to be respectful.”
“I don’t like him.” Katy pursed her lips into a tight grimace.
Naomi set the basket of eggs on the counter and studied her. “Why not? He’s a perfectly nice person.”
“He likes you.”
“What?”
Katy set the knife down and swallowed. “Do you like him?”
Naomi’s cheeks went hot. “What a perfectly ridiculous thing to say.” She bent down and opened a cupboard, yanking out her iron skillet. “And I’ll thank you for minding your words from now on. Your father may not be here, but I am your mother.”
“I know Dat’s not here!” Katy cried, her lips trembling. “You don’t have to remind me!”
And with that, she flew from the kitchen and out the side door, slamming it behind her. Naomi stared after her, her mouth open and her eyes wide. Then with a s
igh, she picked up the knife and finished slicing the bread. Her mind spun through her options. Should she go find Katy and comfort the child? Should she wait until Katy returned and have a talk with her? Should she discipline her daughter for such rudeness to her elder?
Naomi sank onto one of the kitchen chairs. She rested an elbow on the table and leaned her chin in her hand. It was only early morning, and already she was exhausted. And where was Ben? She glanced behind her, through the kitchen door toward the staircase. He was probably still asleep, and the dairy cow needed seeing to. She blew out her breath. She supposed she could take care of that, too. She couldn’t cook the eggs yet anyway.
She stood and smoothed down her apron. She would talk to Katy when she returned, but she’d go easy on her. Naomi knew only too well how hard it was to lose someone you loved. It changed you. And not always for the best.
She put a dishtowel over the sliced loaf of bread and headed back outside toward the barn.
****
Breakfast went well. Immediately after eating, Justin Moore left in his car for town. Interviews, he told her.
Katy had shown up for breakfast, looking submissive and contrite. Naomi gave her a quick hug and felt Katy’s body relax into hers. “I’m sorry, Mamm,” Katy murmured into Naomi’s shoulder. “Again.”
Naomi simply squeezed her daughter and then let her go to sit and eat. Katy insisted on doing all the clean-up. Naomi let her, knowing it would make her feel better.
Ben had raced out to the fields to see if he could find Zachariah, remembering Zach’s promise of frog-hunting. Naomi reminded him that Zach had said in the afternoon, but Ben ran off just the same. The house was quiet, with only the sounds of Katy fussing about in the kitchen. Naomi eyed the basket of mending that sat next to the warming stove in the front room. It was full to overflowing. She hadn’t mended for weeks, or was it months?
She grabbed it up along with her sewing supplies and took the work outside to the front porch. The morning was clear, and the sun had already burned off the dew. It was a perfect day to sit on the porch and mend. She lowered herself into the rocker and set the basket of clothes next to her. She pulled out one of Katy’s everyday dresses and threaded a needle to work on the side seam which had ripped when the girl had climbed up to the barn loft. The dress had caught on a nail and split wide open.
Naomi chuckled, knowing that Katy would have been going too quickly to stop the rip before it became huge. The girl was always in a hurry, even when there was no need.
Naomi was halfway through the mending job when she saw Mary coming down her drive, her pony taking it at quite a clip. Naomi’s heart sped up. Maybe Mary needed more pies. If she went to the store right away, she could get more ingredients and have the pies to Mary by that afternoon.
“Mary!” she called, standing and letting her mending fall to the ground. “Good morning.”
When she caught sight of Mary’s face up close, her heart sank. This visit had nothing to do with pies.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, hurrying down the steps to meet her. “What’s happened?”
Mary gave a huffing wheeze as she climbed out of her cart. She threw the pony’s reins over the hitching rail and faced Naomi. “Can we sit a spell?” she asked.
“Why, of course. Can I get you some water or some tea? I might have some lemons left to make lemonade.”
Mary sloughed her off with a wave of her arm. “Nee. Don’t bother. Let’s sit.”
The two women sat in rocking chairs, and Naomi swallowed. Mary was making her nervous. What had happened?
“Is it true?” Mary asked, her voice frank. She brushed impatiently at the scraggly wisps of hair that had escaped her kapp.
“Is what true?”
“You had Englischers here all night?”
Naomi flinched. “What? Well, jah, but—”
“Who are they? And was it a man? Or was there a woman with him?” Mary interrupted her.
Naomi tensed, and she worked not to feel angry with such a line of questioning. “It was a gentleman journalist who is covering the county fair.”
Mary’s eyebrows rose. “What’s he doing staying with you? Do you know him?”
“I do now.” She took a long breath. “I’m opening a Bed and Breakfast.”
“What?”
“You know, a sort of boarding house.”
“Does Bishop know?”
Naomi’s bravado seeped out in a low breath. “Nee.” How foolish was she? She hadn’t even thought to gain the bishop’s permission or blessing. And here she’d entertained the thought of rewiring the house for electricity. What was the matter with her? How ignorant could she be?
“Ach, Naomi, what were you thinking?” Mary’s tone turned sympathetic, and she patted Naomi’s hand.
“I was thinking that it would be a good way to make money,” she said.
“But, taking in Englischers?”
“They pay.”
Mary bristled at that. “So do Amish!”
Naomi shook her head. “That’s not what I meant. But how many guests am I going to have if I only board Amish folks? I’d have no one. They’d stay with relatives in the district.”
“Well, you’re right at that.” Mary began rocking, and her chair creaked against the wide porch floorboards.
“How did you know?”
“Betsy Radcliff saw the car, and one question led to another. Everyone knows, dear girl, and I think you’re going to hear about it.”
Naomi jumped up, stepping on Katy’s half-mended dress. “Oh, my!”
“Listen, it was an honest mistake. I can go to the bishop with you.” Mary grinned in a conspiratorial way. “He looks kindly on me. I once helped his wife give birth when the midwife was tending someone else.” She laughed and slapped her knee. “That was a time! For the bishop’s wife to take second place…” She shook her head. “All done in innocence, though.”
“You’ll go with me? Do you think he’ll give his permission?”
“I’ve heard tell of other Amish Bed and Breakfast outfits in other districts. I don’t see why Hollybrook can’t have one.”
Naomi’s breath trickled out. “I didn’t intend to disturb anyone.”
“Of course, you didn’t,” Mary said. “I’m sorry about my harshness earlier. I was worried. That’s why I hightailed it over here.”
“I know. And thank you.” A sudden thought grabbed Naomi. Was this why Zachariah had shown up the night before? Had he intentionally been present at dinner to allay gossip? To ensure that she hadn’t had dinner with the Englischer alone?
Was he trying to help her?
Mary swatted at a pesky fly buzzing about her head. “Can you go with me now? Bishop is probably working in his fields, but he’ll come in if we show up over there.”
Naomi glanced down at her dress. “Let me change into something clean, and I’ll be right with you. And I have to tell Katy to watch Ben.”
“Go on with you, then. I’ll wait in the cart.”
Six
Naomi hurried into the house and upstairs. Once again, she wondered at her reasoning powers of late. She should have gone to the bishop immediately with her idea. She didn’t know the bishop very well; although, she had found him most sympathetic after the accident. He knew her situation. He also knew she could have returned to Pennsylvania but had chosen to stay in Hollybrook. Surely, he would be on board with her new plan.
She put on her for-good dress and glanced at herself in the hand mirror on her dresser. Her eyes had lost some of their haunted look, but she still looked tired. Would she ever regain her sparkling eyes and rosy cheeks? She put the mirror down and gave herself a scolding. Worrying about physical appearance was vanity, and she needed to stop it.
Still, when she ran back downstairs to tell Katy, the yearning for her former countenance remained.
Mary chatted animatedly all the way to the bishop’s farm. Naomi tried to focus on her friend’s conversation, but her mind was flying in all directi
ons. She thought of Isaac and hoped he was smiling down at her. She thought of Katy’s latest upset and knew that she’d be all right given more time. She thought of Ben and his upcoming frog adventure. She thought of Zachariah and the fact that he would continue leasing from her. She thought of the burning look in his eyes when he’d left her the night before. And she thought of Justin Moore. Her breath caught as she visualized his gentle expression when he’d asked her how she was during dinner.
She clasped her hands firmly in her lap. Right after the accident, she had seen no way that her life could possibly work out. She’d seen no way to support her children or eke out a life for herself. She’d seen no way that she would survive, let alone have any joy.
But there she was, riding in a pony cart with a new and dear friend. There she was, going to the bishop’s farm to ask his blessing on a business endeavor that she could manage. Maybe she didn’t look like the same Naomi as before. Maybe she wasn’t as comely. But did that really matter?
The closer they got to the Schrock’s farm, the calmer Naomi grew. She marveled that her nervousness had died, and in its place was a calm assurance. The bishop was going to agree. Maybe not with the electricity, and in fact, she decided quickly that she wouldn’t even mention the idea. After all, she’d gotten one guest without it. But the bishop would see the practicality of her idea of a Bed and Breakfast.
She looked at Mary. “Thank you.”
“Ach, you already thanked me.” Mary laughed and slapped the reins on her pony again.
Naomi shut her eyes and gave herself over to the gentle sway of the cart as it rolled down the road. She felt the sunshine on her face and heard the chickadees twitter in the trees as they passed. Mary turned the cart into the Schrock’s drive, and the pony trotted right up to the front porch. Lois Schrock was at the side of the house, hanging up two dripping dishtowels.
“Good morning, Lois!” called Mary, waving.
Lois grinned and ambled over to them. “Why, Mary. And Naomi. A good morning to you both.”
“We’re here to speak with the bishop, if that’s possible.”
Lois shielded her eyes from the morning sun and gazed out toward the field. “I can send young Amos to get him,” she said. “Bishop’s due for a mid-morning break, anyway.”
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