This man had more than enough on his plate, though, and she shouldn’t add to it. “Aaron will drive me if I ask, I’m sure.”
“All right.” Something flickered across Joseph’s face. Naomi couldn’t be sure, but for a second there, she thought maybe she wasn’t the only one who’d have liked another drive together.
“Do you need help down?” Joseph made a move to set the brake, and Naomi blinked and came to herself. What was she doing sitting here like a silly lump? He’d need to get on home. With Emma and Melvin leaving so early, the poor man would have a short night and a hard and troubled morning.
“I can tend to myself, denki. You drive back careful, Joseph, and I’ll see you in the morning.”
“See you in the morning, Naomi.”
He waited where he was until she was opening the kitchen door. Then he clucked to Titus, and the buggy squeaked as he turned for the road.
Naomi squinted against the soft light from the gas lamp burning in the kitchen. Katie was sitting at the table, baby Sarah asleep in her arms and a half-eaten piece of cherry pie in front of her. Katie smiled as Naomi closed the door quietly behind herself.
“I saved some pie for you, if you want it. It took some doing, too. I believe this one’s your best yet. You’ve finally got the handle on the pastry. Aaron’s as happy as I am that you’re staying on to help out with Miriam, just for these pies alone. He and I both are going to be fat as fritters, though, if your baking gets any better. Was that Joseph driving you home?”
“Ja. I didn’t want to trouble him, but he insisted.”
“Of course he did. He’s that sort of man.” Katie settled her sleeping infant more snugly against her bosom and tilted her head. “So? What did you two talk about on the ride?”
“Nothing. He barely said a word the whole time.”
“Ach, well. He’s got a lot on his mind.” Katie freed one hand to scoop up her last bite of pie. “He was never one to talk much anyway, Joseph, and whenever he tried, he usually made a hash of it. I’ve always wondered if that’s why he never courted to speak of, because he’s so clumsy with his words. He doesn’t know how to say the sweet things a girl likes to hear.” Katie closed her eyes, smiling dreamily as she savored the pie. “Aaron was wonderful gut at that when we were courting. He always knew just the right thing to say.”
Naomi picked up the empty plate and moved to the sink without answering, her mind lingering on the simple words Joseph had spoken back in the shadowed carriage.
You rest me.
Her heart skipped at the memory, and she smiled as she began to wash the sticky dish.
Katie was wrong. Joseph Hochstedler wasn’t so clumsy with his words, after all.
Chapter Seven
The next morning, just after seven, Naomi started down the road with her best walking shoes on. She had a still-warm apple-raisin pie in her hands—and a smudge of guilt on her conscience.
She wasn’t doing anything wrong, she reassured herself. There was no reason why she shouldn’t walk the short distance to the Hochstedlers’. The air was nippy, but she had a thick coat and good stockings. And, as she’d assured Katie a few minutes ago, Naomi planned to cut through the fields and bypass the gaggle of reporters altogether.
She’d been truthful when she’d spoken to Joseph last night. Katie’s Aaron was a kindhearted man, and he’d have driven Naomi if she’d asked him. She’d started to at breakfast, but then Aaron had mentioned needing to make a run to the vet to pick up medicine for a sick cow. Naomi didn’t feel right about delaying him. Now that she was blessedly healthy, Naomi made it a point never to trouble anybody for something she could manage by herself.
Besides, if she was to be going to and fro every day, she couldn’t very well keep pestering Aaron for rides, could she? She’d have to walk sooner or later, so she might as well start out as she planned to continue. Once Joseph saw her arriving safe and sound, he’d see the sense in it.
At least, she hoped so.
The loose gravel strewn beside the two-lane highway crunched and rolled under her sneakers, and she stepped carefully, trying to balance the pie and watch her footing at the same time. It was tough going, but she only had to walk along the roadside for a short bit. Just ahead, she’d slip through the gate and head across the frost-silvered pastures to Joseph’s house. That would make for easier walking, plus she wasn’t any too fond of the cars whizzing beside her, fluttering her coat and bonnet.
There was the gate. Naomi’s relieved sigh caught in her throat when she saw a little yellow car pulling to the side of the road ahead. It was the style Englischers called a “beetle,” all rounded on top. She’d met somebody once at the hospital whose brother had driven one. Naomi had thought them funny-looking, but Cassidy had assured her that they were very fuel-efficient.
Naomi walked purposefully toward the gate, hoping the driver, whoever he was, hadn’t pulled over on her account. She faced the chained gate with a new dilemma. The chain fastening the closure was drawn tight and fitted into a metal slot. It wasn’t locked, but it was going to take both her hands to wrestle it free. She cast around for a safe place to set the pie, not liking the idea of putting it on the ground. Apple-raisin, she’d heard, was Miriam’s favorite, and Naomi was counting on this treat to help her connect with Joseph’s troubled sister.
“Excuse me. Miss?” A male voice spoke behind her.
Naomi turned, prepared to firmly shoo whoever it was on their way. When she recognized the sandy-haired man standing on the roadside, her eyes widened. “Eric? Eric Chandler?”
“Naomi!” Cassidy’s brother hurried toward her, his wide mouth spreading into an exuberant grin. “I thought that was you! This is some luck! I knew from that last letter you wrote Cassidy that you were coming to Johns Mill to stay with your cousin, and I’ve been keeping an eye out for you ever since I got here.”
“Eric, it’s so gut to see you! What are you doing in Tennessee? Is Cassidy with you? She never answered my last few letters.”
She knew the instant the words left her lips. Eric shifted his gaze over to the rolling fields, his mouth working as he tried to formulate a response.
“Oh, Eric, I am so sorry.” She juggled the pie for a second to free up a hand and then reached to clasp his arm.
“She got an infection after her last operation, and it was just too much for her. I should have let you know. I’ve been . . . reading your letters, meaning to write and tell you, but I just couldn’t do it. It’s been six months now, but still . . . I can’t get past it. I miss her.”
The grief in his voice came through clearly, and Naomi’s throat ached with sympathy. “Of course you miss her. You always will.” She gave Eric’s arm a gentle squeeze before releasing it. “But in time, the pain will ease, and you’ll remember all the good things. She was such a sweet girl, your sister. So kindhearted and so funny. I’m real thankful for the time we spent together.”
Eric brought his eyes back to hers, and his expression relaxed a little. “She liked you, too, Naomi. She always said you were her favorite hospital roomie ever. So where are you headed? Maybe I can give you a lift. I’ve got a little time to kill.” He glanced at his watch. “The rest of the crew won’t be along for another few minutes.”
Crew? Apprehension tickled up Naomi’s spine. “What are you doing in Tennessee yourself, Eric? I thought you were living in Atlanta.”
“I did. Do. I’m here on assignment for Atlanta Today, covering the Hochstedler murders. You’ve heard about that, right?” He chuckled and shrugged. “What am I saying, of course you have. You’re right here in the middle of it all.” His eyes met hers, and his smile faded. “Oh, gosh, Naomi. I wasn’t thinking. Were they friends of yours?”
Naomi hesitated. “I know the family, ja. Are you going to the Hochstedlers now?”
“Yeah. We’re all camped out there, at least for a few more days.” He ran a
hand through his shaggy hair. “This story’s pure gold, a double murder, a crazy-rich attorney’s son, and this sweet, innocent Amish girl. Folks can’t get enough of it. The fact that all the Hochstedlers are so closemouthed just makes it all the more fascinating. Everybody’s trying to get some kind of insider angle to set their story apart.”
“I see.”
Naomi’s expression must have betrayed her, because Eric hurried on, “That’s not why I stopped to talk to you. Honest, it isn’t. I’m not asking you to give me dirt on your friends.”
“Well, I’m glad because I wouldn’t do it anyhow. Whether you all mean to or not, you’re causing a lot of trouble for that family.”
“If you’re talking about what happened yesterday, my crew had nothing to do with that. Carl Simms isn’t one of ours, but I’ve run into him before. He never thinks the rules apply to him, but I bet he’ll think twice before squaring off with an Amish ploughboy again.”
“Caleb works in construction,” Naomi corrected him absently. When she saw the interested gleam in Eric’s eyes, she wished she’d kept quiet. Maybe Eric wasn’t trying to get information from her, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t snatch it up if she offered it.
A white news van roared past and blew the horn. Eric threw up a casual hand. “That’s my crew. I’d better get going. They’re already ill as hornets because we thought we were going home today. The network was talking about pulling us, but when Simms got slugged, the execs decided to leave us here a little longer.” Eric shook his head. “The guy’s a piece of work, but he got some great photos of Emma Hochstedler, and she’s the holy grail of this story. Nobody had any decent shots of her until then, and man, when Carl’s hit the Internet, the whole world went crazy. Not hard to see why. That girl’s smoking hot, and—” Eric flushed and threw a shamefaced look in Naomi’s direction. “Sorry. I forgot who I was talking to. My apologies.”
“Accepted. But, Eric, the Hochstedlers aren’t a story. They’re ordinary, decent people, and they’re grieving.” Her mind flickered to Joseph’s weary face, and she pressed gently on the spot she felt likeliest to give. “Think how you’d have felt if people had crowded in on you after Cassidy died.”
“I know,” Eric agreed immediately. “I’d have slugged Simms myself, no two ways about it.”
“Then can’t you back off a little bit? There’s not going to be anything exciting happening today, truly there isn’t. Can’t you tell the rest of them so and give this family some peace?”
“Naomi, trust me, it wouldn’t make any difference. Nobody’s going to listen to me. I don’t have that kind of clout, and this story is huge.”
“You could try.” She hesitated, then went on. “Tell them Emma’s gone. She left town before dawn, so nobody’s going to get any new pictures of her today anyhow. Would that help?”
That sharp gleam was instantly back in Eric’s eye. “Emma left? Where’d she go, Naomi?”
“I don’t know.” That was true enough. She didn’t know exactly where Melvin lived, only that it was someplace in Ohio. “She’s not here, and that’s all that matters.” Impulsively, she pushed the pie into Eric’s hands. “Give them this and tell them it was from an Amish friend. I can be your . . . what did you call it? Your insider angle. Maybe then they’ll listen.”
“Aw, Naomi. Like I said, I didn’t stop just to—”
She waved away the apology. “Nee, I know. But I don’t mind telling you something that might help the Hochstedlers.”
Eric lifted the pie and sniffed. “Man, this smells good. We’ve been going to that Amish café downtown for every meal, hoping to hear some gossip. The minute we walk in, though, the whole place goes silent as a church. Makes me too nervous to eat.” He studied her for a minute, then nodded. “Okay. I’m not sure it’ll do any good, but I’ll tell them what you said.”
The sound of hooves on pavement came from behind them. Burly Samuel Christner was driving toward them in a two-seater buggy, no doubt heading to Joseph’s to help with chores. When he caught sight of her, the big man flicked the reins and sped his horse into a trot.
He was upon them in a minute and pulled to a stop. “Naomi, kumm.” Samuel spoke in Deutsch, sparing only the briefest glance at Eric. “I will give you a ride. Best you not be walking today.”
The waves of suspicion rolling off Samuel were so strong that Naomi’s knees quivered. She wasn’t the only one who noticed.
“Go ahead,” Eric murmured under his breath. “I don’t want to get you in any trouble. Here.” He slipped a card into her hand. “My number’s on here if you need it.”
Naomi nodded, tucking the card into the pocket behind her apron. She headed for the carriage, hoisting herself into the seat. She was barely settled when Samuel snapped the reins against the horse’s rump. The carriage rattled forward, past the yellow beetle-car and on down the road.
“Are you all right?” Samuel asked. “Did that Englischer frighten you?”
“Nee, he was only being kind, asking if I wanted a ride.” Naomi relaxed, relieved that Samuel’s suspicions weren’t directed at her.
“He wasn’t being kind. He’s a reporter, that one. I’ve seen his car parked in front of the house along with all the other vultures. It’s gut I came along when I did, Naomi, or you’d have had yourself some trouble, maybe. This is no time to be careless.”
The reproach in the carpenter’s voice made Naomi’s spine straighten a little. As if she’d have taken a ride with someone she didn’t know! She was not so schtupid as he seemed to think. “I wasn’t going to get in his car, Samuel.”
Samuel only grunted. He wheeled into the driveway, past a gaggle of reporters, who tumbled from their warm vehicles to see who was arriving.
Samuel ignored them, keeping his eyes fixed straight ahead, but Naomi sneaked quick sideways peeks. Not so many as yesterday, and maybe once Eric told them the news about Emma, more would give up and go away.
She could hope anyway.
Samuel drove to the back, stopping just as Joseph came up from the barn. Joseph approached the buggy, giving them a confused smile.
“Kind of you to come by, Samuel, but there’s no need. Barn work’s done.”
“Sorry I wasn’t along earlier to help. I had some folks to speak to before I left town. Can we talk for a minute? There’s some business I’d like to go over with you.”
Joseph raised his eyebrows. “Ja, sure.”
“I’ll leave you two alone, then.” Naomi jumped down from her seat. “Have you had breakfast yet, Joseph, or should I fix some?”
“I had cereal before I went to the barn, but Miriam could do with some food, if you can find something she’ll eat. She’s pretty upset about Emma’s leaving.” Joseph threw a worried look at the row of second-story windows. “It’s been a hard morning for her.”
Naomi thought regretfully of the pie she’d given Eric. It would’ve come in real handy just now. “I’ll see what I can do.” As she reached the back steps, she heard Joseph’s deep voice behind her.
“How is it that you’re driving Naomi this morning, Samuel? I thought Aaron was bringing her.”
Naomi froze, one hand on the cold metal doorknob, waiting breathlessly to hear Samuel’s reply.
“I don’t know anything about that. I happened across her about halfway here. She was on foot, and one of those reporters was pestering her.”
“She was walking?”
Uh-oh. Naomi twisted the knob and hurried onto the back porch. When she turned to shut the door, her gaze tangled with Joseph’s. The reproachful glint in his eye promised that he’d be asking her about this later. She offered him a shaky smile, and pushed the door firmly closed between them.
Hopefully whatever business Samuel needed to talk about would take a while. She’d like a chance to gather her wits before she had to face Joseph.
Chapter Eight
J
oseph pulled his gaze from the kitchen door and forced himself to focus on what Samuel was telling him.
“Ja, she was walking. That’s not a good idea, Joseph, not if she’ll be coming here regular. The reporter had her cornered against your north fence, there where the gate’s at. Looked to me like she was trying to slip through it to get away from him but couldn’t quite manage the chain. She put a brave face on it, claimed the man was only offering her a ride, but she seemed spooked to me.”
Cornered. Spooked. Those weren’t words Joseph wanted to hear about Naomi Schrock. “It wasn’t my intention for her to walk. I thought Aaron was to bring her, or I’d have gone to fetch her myself.”
“Just a misunderstanding, then. Likely something came up to prevent Aaron, and she decided to walk, thinking nothing of it. Normal times, it wouldn’t have been a problem. None of us are used to this”—Samuel gestured toward the news vans lining the roadside—“foolishness,” he finished finally. “I’ve told Naomi it wasn’t a good idea and that she must be more careful of herself. She seems a sensible girl. She’ll likely see reason.”
“I hope so.” If not, this idea of her sitting with Miriam would be over before it got started. “What business did you need to talk about, Samuel?”
“Ach, well.” Samuel’s face fell, and he shifted his weight from one oversized boot to the other. “Folks thought I’d be the best one to speak to you. Not sure I agree with them.”
Joseph raised an eyebrow. He’d once seen Samuel Christner hoist two hundred pounds of sacked concrete mix without so much as a grunt. When a man like Sam acted uneasy, a smart fellow paid close attention.
“Vass is letz, Sam?”
“Nothing’s wrong. It’s about your daed’s store. A group of us talked it out amongst ourselves, and we’d like to take turns running it for you.”
The store? Joseph blinked. He’d barely thought about the store over the past few days, and he certainly hadn’t made any plans to reopen it.
Shelter in the Storm Page 8
