Shelter in the Storm

by Laurel Blount

  “Ja. For Caleb.” Joseph couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice.

  “For Rhoda, too. She’s too serious, that one, but Caleb will liven her up. Before long, she’ll be laughing as easily as our Emma.” His father frowned suddenly. “Speaking of Emma, I’ve asked her to stay home and help Rhoda get settled in. Mamm and I will be taking Miriam with us at the store today.”

  Joseph lifted his eyebrows. Even at twenty, Miriam was painfully shy, and unlike her friendly older sister, she always went tongue-tied and red-faced around strangers. She’d be even more miserable working at the store than he was himself.

  He hadn’t asked his question aloud, but Daed answered it anyway. “An Englisch boy’s been coming around since we started work on the store building back in October. His father’s that lawyer who has the office in town. Abbott is the name. You and Caleb did some work for the family some time back, ja?”

  Joseph nodded. “Two or three years ago, some cabinetry work in the kitchen.” He remembered it well. It had been his most profitable job to date, even though Abbott had conveniently forgotten to pay for the upgraded cabinet pulls he’d added on at the last minute. “Trevor is their only child. Caleb and I didn’t see much of him. He stayed in his room, mostly. Slept late. His mamm wouldn’t let us make noise until after eleven in the morning.” He and Caleb had marveled privately over a healthy boy being allowed to hold up men’s work because of such laziness. Daed would have put a quick stop to that, certain sure. “Is he causing trouble?”

  “He likes to talk to our Emma. At first, we thought little of it. The boy seemed lonesome and awkward, and you know your sister. Any wounded thing she sees, she wants to help. Since we opened the store, she takes her lunch break first, down at Miller’s Café. It seems he’s been coming to sit with her, bringing her things. Gifts that are not appropriate for her to accept, some very costly. So Mamm and I talked it over last night, and we think it best for Emma to be away from the store for a bit. You didn’t know about any of this?”

  “I did not. Emma told you about it?”

  “She told Caleb. She did not know how to discourage the boy without hurting his feelings, and she wanted his advice. Caleb thought it best to tell me.”

  If Emma had wanted Daed to know, she’d have gone to him herself. Still, in spite of everything, Joseph couldn’t fault his brother’s decision. He’d have done the same. Sometimes Emma was too kindhearted for her own good.

  “Like most Englischers, the Abbotts don’t understand much about our way of living. I can have a word with Trevor, if you want.” Talking wasn’t Joseph’s strong suit, but he could make himself clear enough to get this job done.

  His father gave him a knowing glance. “Nee, best I handle that. I just wanted to hear your thoughts on the matter, see what you knew of this boy.”

  “Not much. He wasn’t so cocky as a lot of Englisch youngies, I remember that. He had the look of a whipped dog, never said too much. I’m not surprised Emma felt sorry for him or that he took to her. He’d likely take to anybody who showed him attention. Once Emma’s gone from the store, I doubt he’ll cause any more trouble.”

  “Gut.” His father nodded. “Then this will be easily remedied. In any case, it will do Miriam good to spend time in town. We have coddled her too much, her being the youngest. She must make the effort to get past her shyness when it’s necessary.”

  “Well, one thing’s certain sure. You won’t have to worry about Miriam striking up any friendships with Englisch boys. They scare her to death.”

  Just then Mamm stuck one arm out and clanged the large dinner bell mounted beside the back door. The sound echoed against the surrounding hills, Levonia Hochstedler’s earsplitting warning that her menfolk were late for breakfast.

  “We are coming!” his father called.

  “Gut!” Mamm answered shortly. She disappeared, banging the door shut.

  His father chuckled. “Nothing riles your Mamm like seeing her good food going cold. We’d best get ourselves inside.”

  “You can go on in. I’ve no time to eat this morning. I’m taking a crib next door to Aaron Lapp’s. Katie’s boppli is six weeks old already, and I just finished the thing last night. I’ll head to the store after.”

  “Nee. You’ll come back here after and work on finishing your carpentry projects. If you’re sure Ohio is where you want to go, I’ll write a letter to Melvin this evening, and we’ll get your visit arranged. Who knows? Maybe this is Gott’s plan. Likely you’ll find yourself a nice girl while you’re up there, and all this trouble will be forgotten.” His father clapped him hard on the shoulder and winked. “But maybe you learn something from your old Daed, and you don’t give your fraw such a loud bell by the back door, ja?”

  Chapter Two

  Humming softly, Naomi Schrock washed the breakfast dishes as slowly as she could. Her humming and the gentle sloshing of the sudsy water were the only sounds in the house. For the first time in all of her twenty-four years, Naomi was alone, and she was determined to enjoy every second of it.

  She’d better. It would end soon enough.

  She’d realized that an hour ago, when her kossin Katie had appeared in the kitchen with her second-best dress on and a look of purpose on her face.

  “I can’t stay cooped up in this house another minute!” she’d announced. “Let’s hitch up the buggy and take little Sarah to see Aaron’s grossdaddi. He’s been doing poorly, and some of Aaron’s cousins have come down to visit him. I haven’t seen those girls since our wedding, and I want to show them the baby.”

  Naomi’s heart had fallen to her sensible shoes. “Are you sure you’re feeling up to it? And it’s so chilly today. Do you really want to take Sarah out?”

  Katie had flapped an impatient hand. “It’s been six weeks since my C-section. I feel fine, and I’ve been fussed over enough. Not,” she’d added quickly, “that I haven’t appreciated your help! I didn’t know what I was going to do when Mamm put her back out after only two weeks. You’ve been such a blessing, Naomi! But I’m truly all better now, and we can bundle Sarah up to her little nose. She’ll be all right.”

  A few minutes ago, Katie and Sarah had clopped off down the road, but Naomi had decided to stay behind. Once she finished these breakfast dishes, she’d walk to the call shack and arrange her trip home. Then she’d come back here and do some serious scrubbing. Leaving Katie with a sparkling clean house was the least Naomi could do in exchange for the happiest four weeks of her life.

  She hated to leave, but if Katie was well enough to go jaunting around for visits, she certainly didn’t need Naomi underfoot anymore. Time to head home to Kentucky, to go back to being shuttled from one brother’s home to another’s, as she’d been since her mother had joined her father in heaven last year. The thought made silly tears spring to her eyes, and she impatiently dashed them away with the rolled-up sleeve of her dark green dress.

  Schtupid to be crying when she should be on her knees thanking Gott for all He had given her. After everything she’d been through, just standing here healthy and energetic wasn’t something she should take for granted. Besides, having family to go back to was a blessing some poor folks went their whole lives without—and Naomi had five brothers, all married and with growing families of their own.

  Naomi rinsed a coffee cup and upended it neatly on the dish drainer. She was thankful, truly. It had just been so—nice—here with Katie and Aaron. Nice to have important work to do, nursing Katie and helping tend to baby Sarah, and finally trying her hand at some real cooking. Nice to have her own room and not be wedged in a corner of the children’s bedroom, attempting to find ways to be a blessing to whatever overburdened sister-in-law was sheltering her at the moment.

  It had been good to feel welcome for a change, to be useful and needed.

  Naomi dunked the sticky oatmeal pot into the dishwater and scrubbed industriously. Well, she was done he
re with Katie, and maybe now her brothers and their wives would look at Naomi differently. They’d see that she was able-bodied, capable of being a help instead of a burden.

  And if they didn’t . . . well, Gott might send her other folks to help. Other new mamms or people recovering from operations. She knew plenty about that.

  One thing was for sure and certain about the Plain life, there was no shortage of hard work. Now that Naomi was finally, wonderfully well, she could pitch in and start repaying the community that had helped her so much since she was diagnosed with Wolff-Parkinson-White syndrome at age two.

  Before that, none of them had even heard of this congenital heart disorder, and any illness involving the heart was spiritually tricky for the Amish. Her church leaders had pored over the information sheets the pediatric cardiologist had provided, trying their best to understand how two separate areas of Naomi’s heart were doing battle over its rhythm. They’d also dug deep in their collective pockets to pay for medications and expensive specialists while everyone waited to see if Naomi would be one of the children who simply outgrew the problem.

  She hadn’t been. She’d never forget the sacrifices her community had then made just so she could be standing at this sink washing dishes, her heart beating in a blessedly normal cadence. Naomi’s health had been bought at a price, and she planned to make up for lost time, working hard and doing all the good she could.

  A low rumbling noise distracted Naomi from her thoughts, and she tiptoed to peek through the kitchen window over the sink. A pickup carriage was lumbering up the drive toward the house. Joseph Hochstedler must finally be stopping by to deliver Sarah’s crib.

  Naomi’s heartbeat sped up, and she froze and frowned, pressing one damp hand hard against her breast. Then she relaxed and shook her head ruefully.

  She’d had her operation over three years ago. When would she start remembering that she no longer had to worry about heart flutters?

  Anyway, these were no mystery. She was excited to see her old friend again. They’d missed each other at church, and she’d worried he wouldn’t get around to delivering the crib until after she’d gone home.

  She watched Joseph climb out of the carriage, noting that he still wore no beard. That wasn’t entirely a surprise. The whole of Johns Mill had been buzzing about Caleb Hochstedler’s recent marriage, and Naomi certainly would have heard if Joseph had also found himself a wife.

  But for some reason, seeing his clean-shaven cheeks for herself made her heart do a second series of funny jumps.

  Surprising, really, that Joseph was still unmarried. He’d always been the nicest boy. When Mamm had brought the family to Tennessee for visits, Joseph had always been the one who’d lingered behind the pack of youngies, shortening his long strides to match Naomi’s slow pace, making sure that she was all right. Even her brothers had raced away with the others, relieved to pass off Naomi’s care to somebody else for a change.

  Joseph hadn’t made Naomi feel like a trouble, even though she doubtlessly was. He’d always offered her his hand when the going was rough, and he’d never seemed to mind stopping to rest when she’d run out of breath.

  Ja, she’d always liked Joseph Hochstedler, and it would be gut to see him again. Maybe he could stay for a cup of tea, and she’d have the chance to share her wonderful news. He would be happy for her, of that she was sure.

  Quickly Naomi filled the teakettle, set it to heat on the stove, and dropped four bags of Lady Grey into Katie’s smallest teapot. She set out a plate of the cinnamon buns leftover from breakfast and two mugs and spoons. She’d best have everything ready if she hoped to get Joseph to linger a minute. By all accounts, he was a busy man these days, and he wouldn’t have time to waste waiting for tea to brew.

  She tucked a few wayward strands of her blond hair back under her kapp and smoothed down the front of the apron covering her dress. So silly how her hands were trembling, as if the man now knocking on Katie’s door were a stranger instead of kindhearted Joseph Hochstedler, who’d once carried her for a full mile when she’d given out on a trek down to the Millers’ pond.

  Naomi pulled the back door open wide and offered a warm smile.

  “Guder mariye, Joseph!”

  He hesitated, his dark eyes startled. “Naomi! I didn’t know you were visiting.”

  Naomi felt her smile sag. She’d been here for a month, and Johns Mill was a tiny, close-knit Plain community. She’d missed the last church meeting because Katie hadn’t been up to attending services quite yet, but even so—how in the world hadn’t he heard that she was in town? “I’ve been helping Katie with her new boppli.”

  “You came down by yourself?”

  “I did.”

  She could tell from his expression that Joseph was confused. Small wonder. During her illness, Naomi had never been allowed far from her family’s watchful eyes.

  Ask me about it, she urged him silently.

  Instead he glanced around the empty room. “Is Katie here? I’ve brought the crib she ordered.”

  “She’s taken the baby and gone to see Aaron’s family for the day, but she’s had your money sitting ready for weeks now. Come in, and I’ll get it for you.”

  He nodded shortly and stepped inside the kitchen.

  She shut the door against the damp chill of the morning and turned to get a better look at him. Joseph had changed some over the years, but not so much that she wouldn’t have recognized him.

  His straight nose, the moss green flecks in his brown eyes, that single unruly lock of dark hair on the right side of his forehead that always curled up against the brim of his hat. All of that was just the same as she’d remembered.

  But there was a firmer set to Joseph’s jaw now, and he wasn’t so gangly. He’d always been tall, but in his manhood he’d broadened enough to balance out his height. The kitchen seemed smaller with him standing in it, and as he reached to remove his hat, muscles flexed under his blue shirt. He smelled of newly sawed lumber—a scent Naomi particularly loved. It made her think of fresh starts.

  She did love a nice, fresh start.

  Oh, it was good to see him again! She drew in a happy breath. “Vi bisht du, Joseph?”

  “Well enough, denki.”

  “And your family? How are they?”

  “Do you know where Katie wants this crib put?” He glanced out the window at the lowering clouds. “I need to bring it in. The sky’s brewing up to rain.”

  Naomi blinked. Joseph’s tone was impatient—not quite rude, but awfully close. He’d never been one for soft talking, but he’d certainly never spoken to her like that before.

  Ever.

  Gathering her flustered wits, she nodded. “Of course! It would be a shame for it to get wet after all your hard work. Wait just a second.”

  She hurried to retrieve the envelope her kossin had tucked behind the earthenware crock holding her cooking spoons. “Here’s the money Katie left. She’s been so excited about this crib. It’ll be such a nice surprise for her when she gets back from her visit.”

  He didn’t open the envelope to check the amount. “Denki.”

  “Do you need help bringing it in? I could—”

  “Nee.” The teakettle purred, and he nodded toward the stove. “Your water’s boiling. You’d best see to it.” Without waiting for her response, he went back outside, leaving her alone in the kitchen.

  Naomi went to the propane stove and turned off the burner. As she carried the steaming kettle to the table, hurt and disappointment swelled inside her.

  Well, one thing was for sure. Joseph might look most the same as always, but he’d changed—and not for the better. The gentle boy she remembered had sometimes stumbled with his words, but he’d never spoken to her unkindly. All the other boys had either treated her like a nuisance, or ignored her altogether, but not Joseph. He’d made her feel . . . special.

 
Now those sweet memories were spoiled. She wished he hadn’t come by after all, and she hoped he’d hurry up, get Sarah’s crib in the house, and leave.

  She lifted the ceramic lid off the teapot and filled it, watching the hot water coax rich brown swirls from the dangling tea bags. She was brewing enough for two, and today was the first really cold day of the season, a good reason to offer an old friend a warm drink.

  Now she wasn’t so sure she wanted to.

  Naomi squared her thin shoulders. She was being silly and selfish. Joseph wasn’t a carefree youngie anymore. He was a busy man with work to do and not so much time to pass pleasantries.

  Maybe there was a gut reason Joseph wasn’t acting much like the softhearted boy she remembered so fondly. He could be genuinely worried about the crib he’d lavished so many hours on, or perhaps he wasn’t feeling well.

  She should certainly be able to understand that. She’d encountered plenty of grumpy people during her hospital stays. All too often, she’d been one of those grouchy folks herself, although she’d always been sorry later. She’d appreciated the nurses who didn’t take her irritability personally—the ones who understood that her mood really wasn’t about them at all. It was only a by-product of her pain and sometimes—her fear.

  Now that she was finally well, she couldn’t in good conscience pass up the chance to practice that sort of tolerance herself, could she? Especially toward a man who’d shown her so much kindness in the past.

  She settled the lid back on top of the pot. Leaving the tea to steep, she set the kettle on a cool stove burner, just as she heard Joseph thumping onto the back porch.

  She opened the door wide and propped it with the cast-iron doorstop Katie kept handy. Joseph had set the crib on the porch and was lining it up into position to bring it through the door.