by Beth Wiseman
Abby grunted. “I hope you’re not going to let her take that blanket.”
Before Naomi could answer, Esther Rose screamed, clutching the worn cloth to her chest. It was probably time for Esther Rose to give up her cherished possession, but Naomi had given her younger daughter some leeway since Stephen’s death. “We’re not going to worry about it today,” Naomi said above Esther Rose’s wailing, which stopped right away.
After Abby moaned, both girls started pulling their socks on, and Naomi found three twenty-dollar bills and went back outside.
Naomi handed Pearl the money in exchange for the packet.
“You must keep this on your person the entire time,” Pearl said. “And at night, you should sleep with it under your pillow. And it’s best not to sleep with the moon shining on your face, so keep that in mind when it is time for bed.” She paused, holding up a finger. “That is something you should always avoid, even when a harvest moon isn’t approaching.”
Naomi nodded, put the packet in her apron pocket, and said good-bye to Pearl. By the time she rounded up the girls and traveled to her parents’ house, they were an hour late.
“I was getting worried,” Naomi’s mother said after she opened the front door. She showered the girls with hugs, then Abby and Esther Rose scurried to the kitchen, where they knew they’d find freshly baked cookies and lemonade already set out for them.
“Where’s Daed?” Naomi wanted to tell both her parents that she was pregnant, along with her girls. But her mother frowned as she sat down on the couch next to Naomi.
“I didn’t want to say anything in front of the kinner, but I noticed you’ve all stopped wearing your mourning clothes.” Naomi’s mother was still donning a black dress and apron.
“Um, ya, we have. You said it was a personal choice when we chose to stop mourning.”
The lines on her mother’s forehead deepened even more as she folded her hands in her lap. “Mei maedel, it is a personal choice, but it’s only been four months. What will people think? I expected you would go at least eight or nine months.” Mamm shook her head. “It’s too soon. Men in the district will think you are available for courtship. Ya, it’s gut to remarry, and it’s encouraged by the bishop after the loss of a spouse, but I’m sure you are not ready after only four months.”
“People are already trying to play matchmaker anyway. But nee, I’m not ready.” Naomi didn’t think she would ever be ready for that. How could she trust another man? And she’d obviously failed at being a wife, driving her husband to levels of anger that resulted in violence. As much as she wanted to tell her mother about the baby, it was not turning out to be the joyous announcement she’d hoped for. She’d wanted to tell her parents so many times, and she was surely anxious for Abby and Esther Rose to know. Naomi had been careful not to change clothes around her daughters, and she watched how she sat, making sure her dress wasn’t taut against her tummy.
Mamm patted her on the leg. “A few more months, I think, at least.”
In less than four months, I’ll have a baby. She reached into the pocket of her apron and touched the packet of herbs she’d gotten from Pearl. Her stomach roiled when she thought about the money she’d spent, but she wasn’t willing to take a chance of anything happening to her unborn child. Naomi knew such superstitions were rubbish, but still . . .
Mamm started to talk about a small lap quilt that she was making for a friend who was ill, but Naomi’s thoughts were still on the baby growing inside her. She lost track of time as her mother carried on the conversation.
Abby rushed into the living room with Esther Rose on her heels about thirty minutes later. Esther Rose sported a red mustache and carried her blanket. Must have been cherry Kool-Aid today instead of lemonade. Naomi wondered how many cookies they’d eaten.
“When is Mr. Brock going to pick us up to go to the carnival?” Abby bounced up on her toes. “I’m ready for rides!”
Naomi and her mother exchanged glances, then Naomi stood up. “Soon, so we best get back on the road.” They were leaving earlier than Naomi had planned, but the visit hadn’t gone as she had hoped.
“What’s this?” Her mother lifted herself from the couch and put on a false smile. “Mr. Brock? Your father’s friend? Why is he taking you to the carnival?”
Naomi heard insinuation in her mother’s tone. “Girls, tell Mammi bye and go wait for me by the buggy.”
When they were gone, Naomi said, “I know what you’re thinking. This isn’t a date. Stephen never wanted to take the girls to a fall festival or carnival, and when I mentioned that yesterday in his truck on the way back from town, Brock said he loved carnivals and would be happy to take them. We passed by a carnival. That’s how the subject came up.”
“In his truck? Why wasn’t he working? And why were you traveling in his truck?”
Naomi silently reprimanded herself for making things worse. “He needed a part for his tractor and was going to Lancaster. I asked if I could go along. Abby needed a tire for her scooter and I had a few other things on my Walmart list.”
“I know all of you younger people love Walmart, but I’m not sure it’s a gut idea to go there. We should support our local vendors and friends.”
Naomi breathed a sigh of relief, glad the conversation had shifted. “I know, Mamm. But we can’t get everything we need around here.”
Her mother shook her head. “Times are changing and that scares me. Almost everyone is toting a portable phone now too.”
“You have one.” Naomi folded her arms across her chest. “So does Daed.”
“For emergencies.”
Naomi grinned. “Cousin Sarah Mae in Ohio must have a lot of emergencies.”
Smiling, Naomi’s mother gave her a gentle push toward the girls. “Go, now. Have fun at your carnival. Don’t let the girls ride anything dangerous. They’re not big enough for many of those rides, I’m sure.”
Naomi kissed her mother on the cheek and left, excited for their afternoon, but upset that she’d disappointed her mother by shedding her mourning clothes. And even more unhappy that she hadn’t felt comfortable telling her mother about the baby. Naomi laid a hand on her tummy as she walked to her buggy where the girls were waiting, knowing it wouldn’t be long before her belly popped out and it’d be impossible to hide.
Chapter Six
Brock had a bounce in his step as he walked the length of Naomi’s yard, then up her porch steps. He heard giggling coming from inside. He almost always knocked and went in through the kitchen, but the laughter was coming from the living room so he veered toward that door. Abby opened the door before he knocked.
“We’re ready for rides!” She clapped her hands and pushed the screen open. Brock had to jump back so it didn’t hit him.
“I’m ready for rides too.” It was fun seeing Abby so excited, and Brock felt like a kid again. He couldn’t remember the last carnival he’d gone to. It was a beautiful, cloudless day with just enough breeze for a nip in the air, but when the warmth of the sun comingled with the coolness, it was just right.
“The girls are very excited,” Naomi said when she and Esther Rose came up behind Abby. Esther Rose was carrying a pink blanket. He’d noticed the child toting it around. He was a little surprised to see her bring it today, but he remembered his brother carting around a stuffed bear until he was much too old to be doing so. He hoped the blanket would stay in the truck while they walked around; he didn’t want to be searching the carnival grounds all night if she lost it.
Brock noticed they were all in black clothes again, but he didn’t say anything. Apparently, Naomi wasn’t ready to move on yet. Maybe Brock could give the three of them a fun day, even if his own boyish motivations had instigated the plans. The alfalfa needed another day to dry out anyway.
Naomi and Brock didn’t talk much, mostly because Abby and Esther Rose kept up a steady chatter from the backseat of Brock’s truck. Naomi was glad that there didn’t seem to be a need to make small talk since two things were sitt
ing heavy on her heart. She reached into the pocket of her apron and touched the bag Pearl had given her, feeling silly for spending the money on such nonsense. But what if there was an ounce of truth in what Pearl said? Naomi was also still upset about her mother thinking she and the children should be in mourning longer. I thought it was my choice.
Brock got out of the truck with as much energy as the girls, and it was cute the way each of them grabbed one of his hands, even though it appeared to have caught Brock off guard as she saw him startle. Brock had mentioned that he didn’t know anything about children, but one thing about kinner—they had an uncanny ability to know adults, seeming to latch on or avoid without anything more than an instinct. Her girls liked Brock. Naomi lingered a couple of steps behind the trio and felt herself blush when her gaze found Brock’s backside. He wore dark jeans, and his red T-shirt stretched nicely across his broad shoulders. From behind, he looked like he could be her age. She’d noticed the first day she met him that he was a handsome man.
Naomi’s daughters looked even tinier than they were on either side of such a big man. He could really hurt someone if he was mad. Naomi hated that the thought popped into her mind. Brock was a friend of her father’s, and he seemed to have a gentle spirit. But after rolling it over in her mind, she sighed. Stephen had been a friend to everyone too. There hadn’t been a problem with anyone but her.
Brock should feel ridiculous riding a Ferris wheel with a seven-year-old, but as the breeze blew his hair and the sun warmed his face, visions of his childhood rose to the surface, and he suddenly missed his brother, the only family he had left. He was going to call Andrew and schedule a visit.
Abby’s bright eyes shone, and the smile on her face looked permanently affixed. Brock figured she wouldn’t be asking for her two front teeth for Christmas since the Amish holiday celebrations didn’t usually include Santa Claus. Strands of curly blond hair fell across Abby’s face as they neared the top of the ride.
It was more than just the rides that fueled Brock’s thoughts. It was the feel of family, the memories he’d made with Andrew when they were young, and the smell of popcorn, cotton candy, and funnel cakes. The weather, the scents, the laughter, the families . . . it all screamed of fall harvest time. He was glad that today he had borrowed a family to share the day with.
When loud screeching grinded the ride to a halt, Abby twisted to face him, her eyes wide as saucers . . . then she screamed. Brock had no idea that much noise could come from a child her size. He stared at her, held his breath, and had no idea what to do. The scream went on forever.
“Abby, it’s okay. We’re just stuck for a minute. We’re okay.”
That didn’t deter the child’s fear, and Brock found Naomi in the crowd below them with Esther Rose by her side, both of them looking up. Naomi had a hand to her forehead, blocking the sun, but the fear in her wide eyes prodded Brock to get control of this situation. He grabbed Abby’s hand and squeezed.
“Abby, Abby. Listen. This happens all the time.” He forced a smile, having no idea if that was true. He shrugged. “No big deal at all. Just part of the fun.” He looked down at the rungs that led from the top of the ride to the bottom, wondering if he’d be able to carry the child to safety if it came to that. Surely not. But in all his carnival memories, he couldn’t remember ever getting stuck on a ride.
“How long will we be here?” Abby’s bottom lip trembled. “Is this ride broken?”
Brock breathed a small sigh of relief that she’d stopped screaming. “No, it’s not broken, and we’ll be moving again soon. Then we can celebrate our adventure with some cotton candy or something.”
“What’s that?”
“Cotton candy?” Brock wasn’t sure how to explain it to her. “Um, it’s sweet. Lots of sugar. You’ll like it.” He decided distracting her was working. “That’s part of the fun of a carnival, eating all the foods they have.”
“Like ice cream?”
“Yep. I’m sure they have ice cream.”
Abby finally looked at the ground below them, and Naomi blew her a kiss and smiled. Brock took in another deep breath, wondering if she was going to scream again, but wondering even more when they would be moving again. Even Brock was beginning to feel unsettled, his stomach churning a little.
“Mei daed didn’t like ice cream.”
“At all? Not even plain old vanilla?” Brock had never heard of anyone not liking ice cream.
Abby shook her head. “Are we going to fall off this ride and die?”
Brock squeezed her hand again. “No, no, no. Of course not. Sometimes these things just happen with rides. Maybe they had to put grease on a part or something. Abby, I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“Mei daed died.”
Brock swallowed hard. “Yeah. I know.” He glanced at the little black dress and apron she was wearing again. “I bet you really miss him.”
She was quiet, but then waved to her mother, and thankfully, the ride slowly started to move again. “Ya, I miss him.”
Brock didn’t say anything, deciding to enjoy the view of Amish country as they neared the top of the ride again. Abby eased her hand from his, but her smile didn’t resurface.
“He was a gut daed.”
“I know. That’s what I heard. You probably have great memories of him.” Help, Lord. I really don’t want to mess up this conversation.
Abby turned to him, her lip quivering again. “He wasn’t always nice to Mamm, though.” She jumped when the ride stopped again, leaving them near the top.
“It’s okay.” He pointed to the ground. “See, they’re stopping to let people off. This is normal.” He thought for a few moments. “Well, even couples who love each other have arguments sometimes. But that doesn’t mean they don’t love each other.”
“When Mamm was bad, Daed would hit her. Not like a spanking.” Abby hung her head, sighing as if she had the wisdom of an adult, before she looked back at him. “Esther Rose doesn’t know, I don’t think. And that’s probably gut.”
Brock thought back to the conversation in Pennsylvania Deitsch between Naomi and Abby. This child is wise beyond her years. But had she misread her father’s actions somehow? “I’m sure he didn’t . . . hit her. Maybe you misunderstood what you saw, your dad was probably playing or something?”
“Nee.” Abby kept her eyes locked with Brock’s, even when the ride moved and stopped to let people off. She moved a strand of hair from across her face again. “He made her cry sometimes. Don’t tell Esther Rose. She’s too young to understand.”
You’re too young to understand. Brock glanced at Naomi, who had a hand to her chest, as if she were holding her breath, waiting for their turn to exit the ride. When it finally came, Abby ran straight to Naomi, threw her arms around her, and began telling Naomi about being stuck at the top.
Brock slowly caught up to them, but the conversation with Abby was just starting to catch up with him, and as he looked at Naomi and her children, he had to assume that Abby had misread something in her father’s actions. Brock didn’t want her to store those memories if they weren’t true. His thoughts were interrupted when Abby threw up, much of it landing on her sister’s pink blanket. It turns out that Esther Rose could scream louder than her sister.
Brock was mostly quiet on the way home, he couldn’t stop thinking about what Abby had told him. When it started to rain, his thoughts shifted, wondering if he had covered the alfalfa well enough. Either way, rain could set the hay baling back several more days, if it lasted.
Both girls had fallen asleep within minutes after they’d left the carnival, despite a massive overconsumption of sugar; from cotton candy, to ice cream, and everything else they set their sights on. Once Abby had purged, she was ready to match her sister’s sugar intake bite for bite. Naomi said Abby probably had too many cookies earlier in the day when they were visiting with their grandma, then the ride triggered the upset stomach. The resilience of youth. Naomi had cleaned up both girls, washed the blanket in t
he bathroom sink, and maintained the patience of a saint. He’d noticed that about Naomi. Even when the girls had bickered occasionally, Naomi was calm but firm. They were sweet kids, fun to be around, so the occasional tiff hadn’t bothered Brock.
“It’s hard to believe it’s raining so hard when it was so beautiful earlier.” Naomi glanced in the backseat. “Still sleeping.”
“Yeah, the rain kind of puts us behind schedule a little.” Brock shrugged. “But what can you do? Can’t control the weather, I guess.”
He thought about Abby again. The Amish weren’t immune to abuse, infidelity, addictions, or anything else that the rest of the world dealt with, but as he glanced at Naomi, he couldn’t imagine someone laying a hand on her, especially someone who should love and cherish her. And she was so tiny. And pregnant. Almost as upsetting was that Abby knew about it. Or thought she did. Brock was holding out hope that it wasn’t true.
It was pouring when they pulled in, and both girls were still sound asleep in the backseat. “Do you want to carry the smaller one and I’ll get the bigger one?” He realized right away he should have used their names. “I mean, I can get Abby if you want to get Esther Rose.”
She pointed to her stomach. “I-I can’t really carry Esther Rose being this far along. They’ll be okay walking.”
He knocked himself gently on the forehead with his hand. “Sorry. I forgot. No problem, I’ll get them both. There’s an umbrella under your seat, so use that for yourself, and I’ll try to keep the girls covered best I can with my coat.” He reached for a jacket on the back floorboard of the truck.
“Really. They can walk. I don’t know how you’re going to carry them both.” She found the umbrella, but looked over her shoulder. “Abby’s awake. We’ll make a run for it if you can get Esther Rose, and it won’t be the end of the world if we all get wet.” She smiled, then pulled the door open.
Once they were all in the house, dripping on the wood floor in the kitchen, Naomi handed him a kitchen towel while she dabbed at the girls’ faces, then sent them upstairs to bathe and change clothes. Naomi had done a pretty good job cleaning the girls and the little one’s blanket at the carnival, but Brock had caught a whiff of unpleasantness every now and then during the ride home. Probably Esther Rose’s blanket. If Brock hadn’t known better—and he didn’t—he might have thought Abby intentionally aimed for her sister’s treasured blanket.
