“Please come through,” Naomi coaxed. “We’re ready for you.”
He walked into the dining area. Katy and Ben stood at the side of the table staring at him.
“Hello, Benjamin,” he said and smiled at Ben.
“You can call me Ben.”
“All right, be glad to, Ben.” He gazed at Katy. “And you must be Katy.”
Katy looked a bit awestruck as she stared at their guest. But Naomi knew her well, and she could see the wheels of judgment turning in her daughter’s mind. For some reason, Katy seemed predisposed to dislike Mr. Moore. Naomi would have to ask her about it later.
“You’re gonna sit by me,” Ben said, slipping onto the long wooden bench and pointing to the spot next to him.
“That’s just where I was hoping to sit,” Justin said, climbing onto the bench. His legs were so long that it took a bit of maneuvering to get them under the table.
Katy sat opposite him, and Naomi sat at the head spot. The week before she’d decided that someone needed to preside over the table, and it fell to her to do it. She clasped her hands on her lap. “Shall we pray?” she asked a bit nervously, wondering how Justin would react.
But she needn’t have worried. Smooth as a whistle, Justin folded his hands and bowed his head. Naomi sent up a silent prayer for wisdom and guidance in this new venture. She thanked God for sending the opportunity her way, and vowed that she would do her utmost to please Him with her efforts. She prayed a bit longer than usual, and she sensed Ben beginning to fidget. She coughed and the three of them raised their heads, the prayer over. Justin still had his head bowed.
“We’re done, mister,” Ben declared.
“Benjamin!” scolded Naomi. “You must never interrupt someone at prayer. It isn’t seemly.”
Justin looked up and blinked a few times. “No problem. I’m finished.” He gazed at the food on the table. “My, it all smells so fine.”
“My mamm makes the best stew around,” Ben said, digging his spoon deeply into his bowl.
“I’m sure that’s the truth. Ms. Byler, did you remember the pie for dessert?”
Ben gulped down his bite and dropped his spoon with a clatter. “You mean I get pie after all?”
Naomi laughed. “Mr. Moore bought one of my pies at Mary’s roadside stand. We’re having it for dessert.”
“An apple one?” Ben asked. “Tell me it’s an apple one.”
Justin leaned his head down to Ben’s level. “It’s an apple one.”
“Yippee!” Ben said. He grabbed up his spoon and took another huge bite of stew.
Katy watched, her face devoid of expression. She ate with dainty bites, and her posture was stiff as a fence post.
“Katy, what kinds of things are you interested in?” Justin asked between mouthfuls.
Katy sucked in her lips and looked at her mother. Naomi nodded at her.
“I-I don’t know exactly what you mean,” she stammered.
“I was just wondering what kinds of hobbies you’re interested in. Or what sports or activities.”
“Sports?” she looked again at Naomi and then back at Mr. Moore. “We play softball and tag at school.”
“That sounds fun,” he said. He seemed at a loss then, as if he’d suddenly realized how different an Amish child’s life was, and he wasn’t sure which direction his small talk should take.
“The children and youth like corner ball,” Naomi offered.
“Corner ball?”
“It’s a bit like dodge ball, except we play with a small hard ball. We cover the play field with straw so it doesn’t hurt so much when you fall.”
“A small hard ball? Ouch!”
“Jah! One time Amos Criter fell and broke his wrist. ’Member that, Mamm? Back at our old house?” Ben’s eyes danced with the memory. “And then he had to go to a doctor. An Englisch one? ’Member?”
“I remember, son. But please don’t sound so excited about someone else’s hardship.”
Ben bowed his head. “Sorry,” he mumbled.
“We got to write our names on his cast,” Katy offered, looking semi-interested in the conversation for the first time.
“More stew?” Naomi asked Justin.
He handed her his bowl. “If it’s not too much trouble.”
She took his bowl and stood. “Of course, it’s not.” She went into the kitchen and dipped him another full bowl. Returning to the table, she placed it before him. “Can I get you anything else?”
“Nope. Not until the pie.” He elbowed Ben, who giggled.
Someone knocked on the door. Naomi’s eyes widened. Who could that be? Katy jumped up. “I’ll get it for you, Mamm.”
She hurried away from the table, and Naomi heard her open the front door. “Mr. Zachariah,” Katy said. “Do you need something?”
Zachariah? Again?
This was a full-out record. Never once in all these months had Zachariah come to the door more than once a week at best. And here he was for the third time on the same day?
Naomi got up from the table. “Excuse me, please.” She wiped her hands on her apron and went to the door.
“Mamm, I asked Mr. Zachariah to join us for a piece of pie,” Katy said with a look of boldness.
Naomi frowned, wondering just what her daughter was thinking. But then, if she knew Zachariah, he would never agree. In the past, he hadn’t set foot in the house for so much as a glass of water.
Zachariah gave a slow nod. “I’d be pleased to join you,” he said.
Naomi nearly grunted in surprise, but she recovered quickly. “Why then, come on through. We’re just about ready to serve it.”
Zachariah followed her and Katy into the dining area. Katy had suddenly gone mute and an awkward silence filled the air. Justin looked up with curiosity when Zach walked in.
“Mr. King, this is Mr. Moore. He’s boarding with us for a few days.” Naomi felt a further urge to explain herself but resisted. She didn’t owe any explanations to Zachariah King.
The two men eyed each other. Zachariah’s face had gone dark, and he wore an almost threatening look. Justin’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and Naomi saw him swallow. Then he smiled and offered Zach his hand. With a cold stare, Zachariah shook it.
Naomi gaped at them both. If she didn’t know better, she’d say Zachariah was jealous. Inwardly, she scoffed. Her imagination was going wild, taking her to ridiculous places.
She looked at her daughter. “Katy, get Mr. King a plate and bring the pie out, will you? Would anyone like some tea?”
“No ma’am, not for me,” Justin said. He stood and picked up his dinner plate and bowl.
“What are you doing?” Ben asked.
“Taking my dishes out to the kitchen,” he said with a wink.
Naomi rushed to him and took the dishes from his hands. “Nee. You mustn’t do that, Mr. Moore. You sit back down and wait for your pie.”
“Men don’t do dishes,” Ben muttered, giving Justin a suspicious look.
“Don’t they now? My mom taught me differently.” Justin’s rich laugh rang through the room.
Zachariah sat at the end of the table in the chair usually used by Isaac. When Katy returned with pie plates for them all, her face turned red as she observed him sitting there. Zachariah must have noticed her reaction, for he stood halfway up. “Did you want me to sit elsewhere?” he asked.
Katy shook her head. “Nee, it’s all right. Here’s your plate.” She turned and dashed back to the kitchen, bringing the pie out.
Zach settled back down, looking both relieved and pleased.
“So, no one would like any tea?” Naomi asked again, wondering how her perfectly nice supper had disintegrated into such an uncomfortable, stilted affair.
“I’d like some,” Zachariah said. “If it’s not too much bother.”
“Of course it isn’t any bother,” Naomi said, forcing a cheerful smile. Suddenly, she just wanted everyone to go away and leave her be. Even her children. She yearned for time alone, ma
ybe to curl up in bed under the comfort of her own warm quilt.
She gave a soft snort at such foolish thinking. She took the whistling kettle off the stove and poured hot water into a large mug. Before she dropped in the teabag, Justin came into the room, carrying the basket of bread.
“Mr. Moore, please sit back down.”
He set the basket on the counter and regarded her. “Are you all right?”
Naomi felt sudden heat flash across her face. Could the man see right through her? She placed the teabag in the water with an unsteady hand. “Jah, I’m fine.”
He glanced around quickly and spotted the bowl of sugar next to the salt shaker. He picked it up and handed it to her. His hand brushed hers with an electrifying jolt and a warning voice whispered in her head. She jerked back, up against the counter. She blanched, wondering at her reaction.
His eyes were on her, and he gave her a kind smile. “I didn’t know if Mr. King preferred sugar or not.”
Naomi raised her chin. “I wouldn’t know.” Her voice was clipped, and she became very official as she bustled back out to the table. “Here you are, Mr. King.”
She set the mug and the bowl of sugar down next to his plate with such force, the hot water slopped over the side of the cup, burning her fingers. She snatched them back and sudden tears flooded her eyes. Mortified, she blinked rapidly and hurried to the head of the table. “Now then, shall we have some pie,” she said, grateful that her voice came out normally.
She cut and dished up the pie, thankful that Ben had started a conversation about tree toads. Zachariah entered right in with his apparent many years of frog and toad experience. Ben was all grins when Zach told him about a “pet” frog he once kept in a shoebox. Until his mamm found out, of course.
Katy was unusually quiet, and when her last bite was eaten, she nearly raced to escape with the dishes to the kitchen. Naomi had never known her so eager to clear away the table. Justin followed Zach’s and Ben’s conversation, but didn’t offer any comments. Naomi felt him look at her more than once, and she stubbornly kept her eyes on her son.
When Zach got up to leave, she nearly burst into tears with relief. Along with Ben, she walked him to the door.
“Benjamin, for goodness sakes, let go of the man’s arm. He needs to go.”
Ben dropped Zach’s arm. “Sorry.” He looked at his mother. “But he’s gonna show me where the tree frogs usually hide.”
“That’s all fine and gut, but we mustn’t keep him from his duties.”
Zach ran his hand over Ben’s head, musing his hair. “My duties?” he questioned, looking over Ben at her. His eyes were gentle and contemplative, and she found herself unable to look away. It was as if something connected the two of them, something fragile and tenuous, but there all the same. “My duties are farming,” he said. His voice was soft, almost tender, and the sound caressed her. “And it’s dark.”
Naomi clasped her hands together and pressed them to her chest, feeling completely unsettled. Her breathing grew shallow and quick.
“You won’t forget?” Ben said, snapping Naomi back to the moment.
Zach grinned down at him. “I’ll show you tomorrow afternoon, if you’d like. No promises, though. Sometimes those frogs are mighty hard to spot.”
“Tomorrow?” Ben asked, a huge smile on his face. “Okay.”
Zach stepped outside and put on his straw hat. He nodded to Naomi, holding her gaze for a moment longer than necessary. “Thank you for the pie. It was gut.”
She blinked and took a deep breath. “You’re welcome.”
He turned and left, strolling slowly as if he had all the time in the world. When he disappeared into the growing darkness, she realized that he hadn’t told her why he’d stopped by in the first place that evening.
But he hadn’t needed to—she knew. He was checking out her guest. Assessing the situation.
She shut the door and ran her hand along the satiny oak wood, lost in thought. It had been a long day, and she was ready for it to be over.
“Ma’am?” It was Justin.
She turned. “Jah?”
“I’ll be turning in, then. Thank you for a delicious meal. And the pie…” He bunched his fingers to his lips and gave them a kiss, spreading his fingers wide. “Delicious!”
She frowned and then couldn’t help but grin at the look of contentment on his face. “Thank you,” she murmured.
“Good night,” he said. He motioned toward the washroom with his head. “The side door?”
She nodded. “The side door.”
He left the room then, heading through the washroom to the side door. Before leaving the house, he looked back to where she stood, watching him.
Chapter Five
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 thou
gh, 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.
Amish Romance Box Set: Finding Home Page 23
