Shelter in the Storm

by Laurel Blount

  Joseph didn’t smile back, but the tired creases at the corners of his eyes softened. “Then I thank you, Naomi. You’re being very generous.”

  “If I am, then it’s no more than you deserve. You’ve been so kind to me, and I’m thankful for the chance to help you until this storm blows by.” Impulsively, she placed her hand lightly over his, willing him to believe what she was about to say. “That’s what this is, Joseph, a storm, just an awful storm. Sooner or later it will pass, because that’s what storms do. They come, and then they go.”

  He looked down at her hand lying over his, and Naomi flushed. She’d forgotten herself. She snatched it away and hid both hands safely in her lap.

  “Denki, Naomi,” he said quietly. “I hope you’re right.” He stood. “I reckon I’d best be getting back to the living room.”

  Naomi rose as well. “I’ll get on with my work, then.” She flashed him a quick smile before going back to the sink and the open jar of pickles.

  “Naomi?”

  “Ja?” She picked up the fork and readied the platter.

  “I want you to know, what Caleb said about Rhoda . . . it’s not true. Well,” he added, “not entirely. I did have some notions about courting Rhoda, and I won’t deny being disappointed when she chose Caleb. But I accept that she did, and I respect their marriage.”

  She paused, then shrugged and jabbed at a pickle. “Of course you do.” It had to be painful, though, and now this fresh grief had piled on top of that earlier wound. Such a thing could bring any man to his knees. She glanced at him and smiled. “Don’t worry yourself, Joseph. Likely, Caleb didn’t mean half of what he said. Hard times make for harsh words, sometimes.”

  “My daed used to say that.” Joseph’s mouth softened as he looked at her. “You’re a born encourager, Naomi.” Just as her heart thrilled with the praise, his gaze slid to the half-filled platter, and he frowned. “Are those my mamm’s pickles?”

  “Ja.” Naomi frowned, trying to read Joseph’s expression. “I hope it was all right to open them. There seemed to be plenty, and we were out.”

  “You can’t serve those, Naomi.”

  “Oh!” She set the fork down, mortified. “I’m so sorry, Joseph. I should have asked. Of course you’d want to save these for your own family.”

  “It’s not that.” Something strange twinkled in Joseph’s eye. “Try one.”

  Obediently she lifted a cucumber ring to her mouth and bit. A second later, her face contorted as she fumbled for a paper towel to spit the horrible thing into.

  Joseph’s mouth tilted into the first real smile she’d seen in days. “There’s a reason there are so many of those jars down cellar, Naomi. Mamm was a wunderbarr cook, mostly, but she couldn’t make a decent pickle to save her life. Never could.” His eyes sparkled suspiciously, and he used the back of his hand to swipe at them.

  “Oh, Joseph—”

  He shook his head. “Sell is awreit. Not the first time Mamm’s pickles have brought tears to my eyes, trust me.”

  For a second, they stood there smiling at each other, tears glimmering in both their eyes. Before either of them could speak, the back door popped open and young Abby Mast poked her head in. The teenager’s kapp was askew, and her round cheeks were bright with excitement.

  “You’d best kumm, Joseph, and quick-like! One of the Englischers sneaked into the yard and was bothering Emma, and Caleb took his camera away and broke it into pieces. The man shoved Caleb, and your bruder struck him! Right on the nose!” Abby’s eyes were round as she added, “The sheriff’s taking both of them to jail.”

  Chapter Five

  Joseph had never been inside the county jail before, but the sprawling brick facility didn’t seem too different from other Englisch government offices he’d visited. They all had the same harsh, too-white lighting, the same tile floors with grime crusted in the corners, and the same unpleasant smells of disinfectant and over-boiled coffee.

  A uniformed young woman sat at a desk inside a glass enclosure, her blond hair scraped away from her face into a businesslike bun. She slid open a small pane of glass when he approached and waited for him to speak, one eyebrow lifted.

  “I’m Joseph Hochstedler. I’ve come to see about my brother Caleb.”

  “I’ve got this, Christy.” Sheriff Townsend opened one of the double doors on the right side of the room. “Come along through here, Joseph. We need to talk.”

  The sheriff led the way down a narrow hallway, his shiny black shoes and heavily laden belt squeaking with each step. “I didn’t lock Caleb up, Joseph, though he’s lucky I didn’t. I just stuck him in an empty office to cool off.”

  Joseph cleared his throat. “That was kind of you.”

  “Well, I feel for ya’ll. Your family’s been through a lot these last few days, and the reporter fellow was trespassing. On the other hand, your brother broke the guy’s nose. That’s aggravated assault, and the camera he broke was worth a tidy two grand. That throws us into felony territory, and it ain’t like nobody’s watching us, you know what I mean? It’s already splashed all over the television news. I had to haul him in.”

  “I understand. We’ll pay for the damage.” It would take a big chunk of the small amount in the family bank account, but it was the right thing to do. “Is there any way I can get my brother released?”

  “Well, that’s the good news. The boys and I talked the reporter into not pressing any charges, long as you’re willing to fork over the money for the camera. It took some doing, but we pulled it off. I know those fellows are driving you crazy, Joseph, and I wish there was more I could do about it. It’ll die down soon, I expect. Bound to.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “But that ain’t going to happen if your brother keeps throwing punches. I thought you folks didn’t believe in violence, anyhow. Don’t your church frown on it?”

  “Ja, it does. My brother made a mistake.”

  “Well, there’s a hothead in every family, I reckon. I got a grandson that’s a doozy, let me tell you.” The sheriff pushed open a wooden door. Caleb sat in a plastic chair inside a cramped office.

  “Your brother’s here to get you, son, and you’re free to go. I’d just as soon not see you back here again. From now on, you leave those reporters to my deputies, you hear?”

  Caleb raised his head. “Tell your deputies to keep them off our property and away from my sisters and my wife. If they do their jobs, you’ll have no more trouble from me.”

  The sheriff gave Joseph a resigned look. “You got your work cut out for you with this one. Good luck, ’cause I’m warning you now. I won’t be able to cut you so much slack if there’s a next time. Exit’s down thataway. Ya’ll can see yourselves out.”

  Joseph held his breath until he and Caleb had stepped through the metal door into the brittle winter sunshine. Then he unclenched a little. Titus was still tethered to the bike rack along the side of the facility, and no reporters were in sight. The sheriff’s deputies must have put the fear of God in them. Joseph hoped that held for a while. He could use a spell of peace.

  Neither of them spoke as they went through the routine of untying Titus and climbing into the carriage. Joseph unsnapped the side curtains, thankful for the chill in the air. Nobody would look twice at a snugged-up buggy today.

  As they clopped home down the two-lane highway, the odors of canvas and horse, and the familiar feel of the reins in his hands, steadied Joseph’s nerves. This was the world that made sense to him.

  Caleb stared silently ahead. Joseph cleared his throat.

  “Caleb—”

  “I’m not apologizing.” Caleb interrupted. “So don’t bother trying to talk me into it.”

  “You struck a man, Caleb.”

  “I did.” His brother turned to look at him. Caleb’s eyes were the exact shade of green that Daed’s had been, but never once had Joseph
seen this kind of hot defiance in his father’s eyes. “And I’d do it again. He came out from behind the barn, shoving his camera at Emma, calling her name. I told him to stop, and he paid me no attention. Emma covered her face and turned away, but he didn’t care. ‘Look at me, honey. Just look at me, okay? One shot.’ That’s what he kept saying, over and over again. He wasn’t going to listen, that one, and he wasn’t going to back off, not without a fight.”

  “He’s Englisch. They don’t understand.” Joseph’s heart wasn’t in his words. The thought of Emma being pestered like that turned his stomach. “But you understand, Caleb, and you know you shouldn’t have laid hands on him.”

  “Don’t rub my nose in the Ordnung, Joseph. Rhoda’s father will do enough of that. If,” Caleb muttered darkly, “I give him the chance. You’re wrong anyhow. The Englischers understand plenty. They know we can’t do anything, that we’re hobbled by our church. We’re weak to them, so they just press in harder and take whatever it is they want. Maybe you can stand by and see your sister hounded to tears, but I’m not about to.”

  “You should have found another way to stop it. You’re a baptized member of the church, Caleb. When you made that decision, you agreed to accept the church’s leadership in these matters.”

  “I should never have been baptized, then.”

  Joseph’s heart jolted. “Maybe you feel like that now, but—”

  “It’s not just now. I’ve felt like that all along.”

  “Then, why—”

  “Why do you think? I wanted to marry Rhoda. I knew she’d never consider me otherwise.”

  There was a beat of silence, punctuated only by the rhythmic sound of Titus’s hooves hitting the asphalt and the squeak of the buggy wheels. Joseph tried to wrap his brain around what Caleb had just told him.

  “You joined the church . . . you made a decision like that . . . for a girl?”

  “For the girl.” Caleb made the correction swiftly. Defiantly. “I did, ja.”

  Grief had pushed jealousy to the back of Joseph’s heart, but it reared back up at Caleb’s words. He forced himself to focus on the issue at hand. “That wasn’t wise, Caleb. They caution us against that kind of thing. The decision to be baptized is between you and Gott, and it’s never to be taken lightly. It’s irreversible.”

  “Nee. It’s not.”

  The cold weight of his brother’s statement hit Joseph like a fall of snow from an overloaded branch. “You’ll be shunned, Caleb.” When Caleb didn’t answer, Joseph went on. “Think what that would mean for Rhoda. You can’t be so selfish as to put her through such a thing.”

  Caleb shifted on the buggy seat to face Joseph fully, his eyebrows raised, and a cold look in his eyes. “Interesting that you think first what my shunning would mean for Rhoda, not what it would mean for me.”

  “You know well enough what it would mean for you and for the rest of us. Why would you even consider such a thing?”

  “Our parents deserve justice.”

  “Justice is not for us to seek. We have to leave that in Gott’s hands.”

  “Maybe you do.”

  Joseph started to answer, then tightened his lips and remained silent. There was no point arguing with Caleb while he was in this mood. He reined up Titus in front of the Lambrights’ small house, and Caleb frowned.

  “Your fraw is waiting with her parents,” Joseph told him. “She’ll be worried. You’d best go in and see to her.”

  Caleb’s face shifted into resignation. Rhoda’s father would have plenty to say about what had happened at the Hochstedler farm. As bishop, he would be forced to address his son-in-law’s transgression sternly, lest he be accused of favoritism. In spite of everything, Joseph felt a grudging sympathy.

  Caleb wasn’t in for a pleasant time. Until he made up his muleheaded mind to get on his knees before the church and ask forgiveness, he’d be at odds with his wife’s family and the rest of the community.

  “Isaac will understand, Caleb. You were under pressure and you lost control of your reason for a minute. It’s nothing any man amongst us hasn’t been tempted to do, and under less trying circumstances than these. You’ll ask forgiveness, and—”

  Caleb made an exasperated noise. “Don’t preach me a sermon, bruder. I’ll likely get more than enough of those from Isaac and Rhoda both.” Caleb swung out of the buggy, landing lightly on the ground. “We’ll sleep here tonight, but I’ll be along home tomorrow to help.”

  Probably not a gut idea, having Caleb on the farm while reporters were still milling around, not given the mood he was sporting. “Don’t worry about that. The chores aren’t much to manage these days.”

  “I wasn’t talking about the barn work. Looking after Emma and Miriam is my responsibility as much as yours.”

  “Nee, it isn’t. You’ve begun a family of your own. You’ve responsibilities in there now, too.” Joseph jerked his chin toward the tidy white house. “You’d best be tending to them.” He clucked to Titus, and the buggy rolled forward, leaving Caleb standing in Ida Lambright’s carefully tended yard.

  When he topped the last hill, Joseph breathed a sigh of relief. The stretch of road in front of the house was littered with plastic water bottles and blowing scraps of paper, but there were no reporters to be seen. He wasn’t sure how the deputies had convinced them to leave, but somehow they’d managed it.

  All the buggies were gone, too. Folks had no doubt returned home to see to their own evening chores. As much as he appreciated the support of the community, Joseph was relieved to see the empty yard. He’d had enough of people, even well-meaning folks, for one day. He was ready for things to get back to normal.

  As always, Titus picked up his pace as the barn door loomed in sight. As they briskly wheeled past the house, Joseph’s eyes lingered on the trampled earth, where countless buggies and horses had scraped deep ruts in the damp ground. His mamm would have kicked up a ruckus over that. She’d always fret when their turn to host church fell on a rainy Sunday. It ruined the yard, she said. The grass took weeks to fill back in, and some folks never minded where they drove their buggies and parked over her flower beds.

  Now she wasn’t here to be troubled. The painful reminder hit him squarely in the center of his hollow chest. Mamm wasn’t here to fuss, and Daed wasn’t here to tease her back into a good humor.

  Things would never be normal again.

  As they reached the barn, Titus shied sideways. Naomi came out, carrying the steel milk pail. Given the way she was listing to the side as she walked, it must have been brimful.

  As he brought the carriage to a halt, she set the bucket on the ground and straightened up. The pale oval of her face and the white of her apron glowed in the fading light.

  “Joseph,” she greeted him quietly.

  There was something about the way she said his name that he liked. Calm, straightforward. He’d always felt strange around the girls back when he’d gone to the youth singings. They were always giving him sideways glances and kittenish smiles that he didn’t understand.

  Caleb had always known what to say. He’d never missed a step, and he’d never lacked for a willing girl to drive slowly home under the moonlight. On the few occasions Joseph had invited a girl to drive, he’d ended up tongue-tied and his stomach had bunched itself up in knots as if he’d just been given a dose of his mamm’s spring tonic. Even with Rhoda, maybe especially with Rhoda, it had been so, and he’d always felt secretly relieved when he’d driven his empty buggy into the familiar peace of the barn. If one of those girls had popped out like this back then, he’d have been flummoxed, for sure.

  Somehow seeing Naomi didn’t disturb him at all. Strange, that.

  He climbed down and started unhitching Titus. “I figured everybody had gone already. Are Katie and Aaron still here?” He’d thought the yard was empty, but given the sheer number of buggies, people had been forced to park
creatively. Maybe he’d missed one.

  “Nee, they had to get back to get the boppli settled so they went on home.”

  Joseph turned his attention from the buckle he was unfastening to Naomi’s face. “They left you?”

  “Emma asked me to stay on for a bit.” Naomi twisted her hands in front of her stomach. “She said she needed to talk to us both once you and Caleb got back.” She didn’t ask the question, but he could hear it in her voice, so he answered it.

  “Caleb stopped off at Isaac’s to see to Rhoda. He won’t be back tonight.” Joseph frowned. “Emma needs to talk to us?”

  “That’s what she said. She hurried everyone else off.” Even in the dim light, he could see Naomi’s mouth curve into a small smile. “Your sister’s a wonder. Folks were . . .” Naomi hesitated as if searching for the best word. “Worried,” she finished finally. “They wanted to wait for you, but Emma was having none of it. She hustled everybody out the door, quick as quick, but nice as you please.”

  That sounded like Emma, the old Emma. She had the kindest heart in the county, and she was fiercely protective of those she cared about. She hadn’t wanted her twin arriving home to a houseful of curious stares.

  “The men had already done all the evening chores but the milking. Emma told them she’d do it herself, but I stole the pail and scooted out before she could catch me.”

  “That was kind of you.”

  She denied his praise with a quick shake of her head. “Not so kind. Melvin was hanging about the kitchen, and he makes me feel ferhoodled. Oh!” She stopped short. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t speak ill of your uncle.”

  “Don’t worry yourself. You’re not the first person Melvin’s sent running for the barn, trust me.”

  Naomi smiled. “The cow did make for a real pleasant change.”

  Joseph chuckled, then froze at the sound of his own laughter, his fingers clutching the last buckle. He’d not thought he’d smile again, maybe not ever, certainly not anytime soon. And yet here he was, laughing in the barn and poking fun at his grumpy old uncle, just as he’d done a hundred times before.