“No point wishin’ for the impossible,” Naomi mumbled as she slipped her shoes off and curled her bare toes, digging them into the dirt. “I’m supposed to be satisfied, no matter what my circumstances might be.”
At their last preaching service, the bishop had quoted a verse of scripture from the book of Philippians, and it reminded Naomi she should learn to be content. The apostle Paul had gone through great trials and persecutions, and he’d been able to say in chapter 4, verse 11: “For I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content.”
Naomi sighed deeply and closed her eyes. Heavenly Father, please give me rest for my weary soul and help me learn to be content.
***
Naomi awoke with a start. She’d been dreaming about camping with Ginny and her English friends when a strange noise woke her. She tipped her head and listened, knowing she shouldn’t have allowed herself the pleasure of drifting off. No telling how long she’d been down here at the creek. What if the kinner were awake and needed her? What if Papa had come home and discovered she wasn’t in the house taking care of his sick children?
She clambered to her feet as the noise drew closer and louder. What was that strange sound?
She looked up. “Oh no! Bees!”
Naomi ducked, but it was too late. It seemed as if her head were encased in a dark cloud. One that moved and buzzed and stung like fire. She swatted at the enemy invaders as they pelted her body with their evil stingers, and she shrieked and rolled in the grass.
It seemed like an eternity before the swarm was gone. When she was sure they had disappeared, Naomi crawled to the edge of the creek. She grabbed a handful of dirt, scooped some water into her hands, mixed it thoroughly, and patted mud all over the stingers. Her face felt like it was twice its normal size, and her arms ached where the buzzing insects had made their mark. If Caleb could see the way I look now, he would surely change his mind about wanting to court me.
“I need to get back to the house and fix a real poultice,” Naomi muttered. She’d never had an allergic reaction to a bee sting, but then she’d never had so many all at once. Even if she wasn’t allergic, she had a homeopathic remedy that should help the swelling go down and take away some of the pain.
Naomi took off on a run. Beside the fact that the stingers hurt something awful, it had begun to rain. By the time she reached the back porch, raindrops pelted her body, while streaks of lightning and thunderous roars converged on the afternoon sky.
Naomi flung the door open and bounded into the kitchen. She screeched to a halt and stared at the floor. “Was in der welt—what in the world?” she gasped.
Mary Ann knelt in the middle of the room and looked up at Naomi with tears in her eyes. “Me and Nancy woke up and were hungry. We’re feelin’ better and wanted to make ginger cookies.”
Streaks of flour dotted the little girl’s face and pinned-up hair, which made the otherwise mahogany tresses look as though they were splattered with gray. The floor was littered with broken brown eggshells mixed with runny yellow yolks, and a sack of flour had been dumped in the middle of the mess.
Naomi’s gaze traveled across the room where Nancy stood at the sink with a sponge in her hand. “What happened here?”
“Everything was goin’ okay ’til Mary Ann dropped the carton of eggs,” Nancy huffed. “I was haulin’ the flour over to the cupboard and slipped.” She lifted her chin. “The flour spilled and landed on Mary Ann’s head, and it’s all her fault.”
Naomi groaned. Nancy was four years older than Mary Ann and usually managed fairly well in the kitchen. She also tended to be a bit bossy where the younger ones were concerned. Why did I allow myself the luxury of falling asleep at the creek? For that matter, why did I go there in the first place? Now I’m paying the price for my desire to spend a little time alone.
A piercing wail shattered the air, and she whirled around. It was Zach hollering from his playpen in the adjoining room.
“The boppli’s awake,” Mary Ann announced.
“Jah, I know the baby’s awake, but I can’t go to him now.” Naomi lifted her arms, covered in mud. “I’ve been stung by a swarm of bees.”
“Oh, Sister, you look so elendich!” Nancy cried. It was obvious she hadn’t even noticed Naomi’s condition until now.
Naomi nodded. “I’m sure I do look pitiful, but I feel even worse than I appear.”
“Are you gonna help us bake ginger cookies?” Mary Ann asked, scooping up a handful of eggshells.
“No.” Naomi tried to keep her voice steady and calm. There was no point getting upset and yelling at her sisters. It wasn’t as if they’d made the mess on purpose. “I need to tend these bee stings.”
Naomi opened the cabinet door above the sink, grabbed a box of baking soda and her bottle of medicine. “I’m going upstairs to the bathroom. While I’m gone, one of you needs to clean this mess, and the other can get the baby before he tries to climb out of his playpen.” She pointed toward the living room where Zach still screamed. “When I get back, I’ll see about gettin’ the little guy diapered and fed.” Naomi hurried out of the kitchen.
Ten minutes later, she reentered the room, only this time her face and arms were covered with baking soda instead of mud. She stopped inside the door. The mess had been cleaned, and Zach was in his highchair eating a cracker; but her brothers Matthew, Norman, and Jake sat at the table, dripping wet.
“ Ach, my! You’re gettin’ water everywhere!” Naomi shouted. “What are you three doin’ in here anyways?”
“It’s rainin’ cats and dogs outside, and we sure couldn’t keep on plowing the fields in this kind of weather,” Matthew answered. His dark brown hair was plastered against his head like a soggy leaf, and his cheeks were as red as a raspberry. At the moment, he looked like a little boy rather than a twenty-two-year-old man.
“That’s right; it’s a real downpour out there,” Norman agreed. “If it keeps up for long, we’ll have us a flood, and that’s for certain sure.” He raked his fingers through his hair, almost the same color as Matthew’s and just as wet. A spray of water splattered onto the table, and Norman grinned at Naomi, kind of sheepishlike.
“What happened to you, Sister? You look awful,” Jake commented. The seventeen-year-old had recently celebrated his birthday; but soaked to the skin and with his hair in his face, he, too, looked like an overgrown child.
“I had a run-in with some bees.” Naomi glanced at the clock above the refrigerator. It was half past four. Samuel should have been home from school by now. She ran to the back door and flung it open. No sign of her little brother—just pouring rain and jagged lightning.
She spun around to face her brothers. “One of you needs to go after Samuel. He’ll catch his death of pneumonia if he walks home in this terrible weather. Besides, he could be hit by lightning.”
“It wonders me so that you’re such a worrywart. Why, a little rain won’t kill the boy, and he’s sure smart enough to stay out from under a tree if lightning were to strike.” Matthew reached for a wad of napkins and swiped them across his forehead.
“Yeah, that’s right.” Jake’s blond head bobbed up and down. “I can’t begin to tell ya how many times I walked home from school in the rain when I was a boy.”
Zach let out another ear-piercing yelp, and Naomi thought she was going to scream. Wasn’t there a single person in her family who cared about anyone but himself?
She clapped her hands together and stomped one foot. “Now listen to me! One of you had better go after Samuel—now!”
Matthew blinked, then turned to face Norman. “Guess the boss means business, Brother. Get the buggy hitched, schnell!”
“Okay, I’m goin’.” Norman pushed his chair away from the table. He sauntered past Naomi but halted when he got to the back door. “You’d better have supper started before Papa gets home. He won’t like it if he shows up expectin’ to eat and nothin’s ready.”
Naomi had taken as much as she could stand. She grabbed a wet
sponge from the sink, took aim, and pitched it at her brother. It hit its mark, landing in the center of Norman’s back.
He didn’t seem the least bit affected but merely chuckled and marched out the door.
“Brothers!” Naomi hollered. She hurried over to Zach, scooped him into her arms, and headed upstairs.
***
Caleb couldn’t believe how hard it was raining. When he left for town to get supplies a few hours ago, the weather had been warm and sunny. By the time he left Zook’s Tool Shop, a noisy thunderstorm churned across the sky, dropping buckets of rain. He’d planned to stop by Fisher’s General Store and see if he could catch Naomi alone, but now he thought it would be best to go straight home. Besides, judging from the time on his pocket watch, Abraham’s store was probably closed.
Speaking softly to his four-year-old gelding, Caleb stood near the front of the buggy and stroked the horse’s ear. “I don’t like storms any better than you, but we need to be gettin’ home.”
The horse snorted and nuzzled Caleb’s arm. He patted the animal’s head and hopped into his open carriage.
“Sure wish I’d driven one of Pop’s closed-in buggies today,” Caleb mumbled. “By the time we get home, we’ll both be near drowned.” He pulled the brim of his straw hat down and leaned into the wind. From the way the rain pelted the ground, there might be some flash flooding in the area.
Caleb drove the horse and buggy as fast as he could. He’d only gone a short ways, when he came upon a gusher of muddy water running over the road and into a nearby field. Several cars had pulled onto the shoulder, obviously stalled.
“Guess there’s some good in us Amish usin’ real horsepower. At least my buggy’s got no engine to peter out on me.”
By the time Caleb reached the halfway point between the town of Paradise and his folks’ farm, the floodwaters had become a hazard. He noticed a herd of horses owned by one of the English farmers who lived in the area. They stood up to their flanks in a lake of murky, brown water.
Caleb wondered if the pond at the back of his folks’ farm might be flooded, too. If it was, Pop would need Caleb and his brothers to put the animals in the barn.
Moving on down the highway, Caleb spotted a closed-in buggy sitting on the shoulder of the road. He swiped his hand across his rain-drenched face and squinted. It looked like Abraham Fisher’s horse and buggy. Was something wrong? Were the Fishers stranded? Maybe they’d had an accident.
Caleb guided his horse to the edge of the road and stopped behind the rig. He jumped down and sprinted around to the right side, where he knew the driver would be sitting. When he peered through the window, his heart lurched. Abraham Fisher was hunched over, his head leaning against the front of the buggy, but there was no sign of Naomi or her baby brother.
Caleb grasped the handle and opened the door. Abraham didn’t budge, although he could see by the rise and fall of the man’s shoulders that he was still breathing.
“Abraham, can ya hear me?” Caleb touched the storekeeper’s shoulder. There was no response, so he shook the man’s arm.
Naomi’s father jerked upright. “Ach , my! What are ya doin’, boy?”
“I thought you might be hurt or had broken down.”
Abraham yawned. “I ain’t hurt—just pulled over to take a little nap. With the rain comin’ down so hard, it was gettin’ difficult to see, and since I’ve been minding the store by myself most of the week, I was feelin’ kind of tired.”
“You’ve been at the store by yourself?” Caleb’s mouth dropped open like a broken hinge. “But I came by on Mondaag, and Naomi was helping you.”
Abraham grunted. “Jah, well, Monday was the only day I had my daughter’s help. She’s been home the rest of the week, takin’ care of her sick sisters.”
“Everything’s okay with you then?”
The storekeeper frowned. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Like I was sayin’ ... I saw your buggy pulled to the side of the road and figured I’d better stop and see if you were hurt or anything.”
“Except for bein’ tired, I’m right as rain.” Abraham shook his head. “Sure hope this storm lets up soon. It’s gonna cause a passel of trouble if the creeks and ponds should flood.”
Caleb didn’t bother to tell Abraham about the swamped farm he’d already seen. He figured it would be best if they both headed for home. He tapped the side of Abraham’s door. “Guess I’ll be on my way then. Glad you’re not hurt.” The only response was a muffled murmur.
When the door shut, Abraham took up the reins.
Caleb hurried to his own buggy, shaking his head. The storekeeper hadn’t even said thanks.
CHAPTER 4
Naomi stood at the kitchen sink with a sponge in her hand. She needed to hurry. They’d soon be leaving for Sunday church at the Beechys’ house.
At least the swelling from my bee stings has gone down, she mused. I no longer look like a bumpy old horny toad. The floodwaters have gone down, too, and it’s not raining. That’s something to be thankful for on this Lord’s Day.
Naomi washed each dish in one container, then rinsed it in another. As she finished, the dishes were placed in the draining rack for Nancy to dry and put away. Every step was done with attention, adding up to a simple, unspoken task performed after each and every meal. Strangely enough, Naomi found this ritual comforting. It gave her time to think and sometimes pray.
“Baby Zach’s hollerin’. Want me to get him out of the playpen?”
Nancy’s question drew Naomi’s thoughts aside, and she whirled around. There stood Zach, gripping the playpen rails with slobbery hands while tears streamed down his chubby cheeks.
“I’ll tend the baby,” Naomi told her sister. “All but two cups and three plates have been washed, so you can finish those and get them dried and put away. Hopefully, we’ll all be ready to go by the time Papa gets the horse and buggy hitched.”
“Why can’t I take care of the boppli while you finish the dishes?” Nancy asked with a lift of her chin.
Nibbling on the inside of her cheek, Naomi contemplated her sister’s suggestion. Finishing the dishes would be much easier than trying to calm Zach, who probably had a dirty diaper. Even though she wasn’t looking forward to changing it, she knew she could get the job done quicker than Nancy.
“I appreciate the offer,” she said, “but I think it would be best if I get the baby.”
A look of disappointment flashed across Nancy’s face, but she slid over to the sink and grabbed the sponge without a word.
Naomi hated to be in charge of her younger siblings, always telling them what to do and sometimes handing out discipline when it became necessary. That was supposed to be a mother’s job.
Naomi dried her hands on a terry cloth towel and went to get her baby brother. Zach quit crying the minute she picked him up, and after a quick check of his diaper, she was relieved to see there was no need for a change. How glad she would be when the boppli was potty trained and no longer needed to wear windels.
Zach squealed and kicked his hefty legs as she carried him across the room. Apparently, all the little guy wanted was to be out of his playpen.
Naomi hugged her little brother. “You’re gettin’ mighty spoiled, ya know that?”
“Guess that’s because he’s so lieblich,” Nancy put in.
“Jah , he’s adorable all right.” Naomi nuzzled the boy’s cheek with her nose. “Adorable and spoiled rotten.”
She took a seat in the rocking chair near the fireplace and rocked Zach as she sang a silly song she had made up. “Spoiled little baby, you’re awfully cute. You’re sure to grow up happy and loved to boot.”
Zach giggled as she tugged gently on his soft earlobe.
Nancy placed another dish in the cupboard when the back door swung open. Papa entered the kitchen, followed by Samuel.
“A sly old fox was in the chicken coop last night,” Samuel announced.
“How do ya know that?” Nancy asked.
“We
found evidence of it ... several dead chickens,” their father said with a frown.
“Papa’s gonna set a trap for the scoundrel,” Samuel added excitedly.
“I hope you’re plannin’ to set it someplace where the kinner won’t get hurt,” Naomi said.
Papa moved toward the rocker, and his blue eyes narrowed. “Don’t ya think I’ve got brains enough to know how to set a trap without taking the chance of one of my youngsters gettin’ injured?”
Tears stung the back of Naomi’s eyes, and she blinked to keep them from spilling over. “I—I meant no disrespect, Papa.”
He fingered the tip of his beard. “Jah , well, your mamm never questioned my decisions when she was alive.”
There he goes again—comparing me to Mama.
“Is everyone ready for church?” Papa asked, changing the subject.
“I think so,” Naomi replied.
Papa studied Nancy. “Where’s your head covering?”
She pointed to the back of a chair.
“Put it on now. Mary Ann’s already in the buggy, and the older boys left a few minutes ago in Matthew’s rig.”
Nancy shut the cupboard door, grabbed her kapp off the chair, and scampered outside.
Papa glanced at Samuel, who had taken a seat at the kitchen table. “Get your lazy bones up and hightail it out to the buggy. If we don’t hurry, we’ll be late.”
Samuel jumped up, grabbed his hat from a wall peg, and made a beeline for the door.
Papa turned to Naomi again. “If your mamm were here, the kinner would be ready for church on time—with their head coverings in place.”
Naomi stood, positioning Zach against her hip. “Papa, why do you always compare me to Mama?”
He blinked as though surprised by her question. “I ain’t comparin’ you, and I don’t appreciate your tone.”
The Storekeeper's Daughter Page 4
