“The way we figure it,” the other man went on, “you need little help here, what with the cows being sold off. The store’s another matter. We’ve worked out a schedule. Just us men,” Samuel hastened to add. “We’ll have no women working there, not for now. If it suits you, we’ll start today. Some of the wives went over last night and—” The other man faltered, then continued in a firmer voice. “It took some doing, but they got the job done in the end. They cleaned the whole place up real gut.”
They’d scrubbed his parents’ blood away, Joseph realized. The idea brought on a wave of nausea—and guilt. He should have seen to that unpleasant job himself, not left it to his friends’ wives. He cleared his throat. “I appreciate the kindness, Samuel, I surely do, but I’ve no mind to reopen the store.” He hated the idea of being trapped behind Daed’s counter, fending off reporters and curious locals.
“Ja, we figured it might be so, but we wonder if you’ve thought it through. Now that the dairy’s closed, that store is your family’s livelihood, Joseph, and that’s nothing to set aside lightly. Besides, even if you’ve no interest in setting yourself up as a storekeeper, you’ll need to sell the things that are already in stock.”
Joseph weighed his friend’s words with a sinking heart. Samuel was right, but if there was one thing Daed had taught him, it was never to foist a job he couldn’t stomach onto somebody else. So long as he was able-bodied, a man did what needed doing himself, no matter how he felt about it.
If that store needed to be reopened, then he should be the one to do it.
“You’re going to say it’s your place to look after this.” Samuel spoke Joseph’s thoughts aloud. “I told the men you’d see it so, but we all agreed you don’t need to be at the store right now. Not you, nor anybody connected to your family. That would just stir things up, and nobody wants that.”
Samuel had a point. Joseph rubbed his chin. “The last thing I want to do is make things worse. Enough of our family troubles have spilled over onto the rest of you already.”
“Don’t worry yourself. Our hearts are grieving right alongside yours, and it’s our joy to find some way we can help. It’s nothing you wouldn’t have done for any one of us if the tables were turned. Besides, that store’s a real help for Johns Mill, Joseph. Your father’s got things in on consignment from at least a dozen or so families, and there’s not a one of them that couldn’t use the money, being that the farms are failing. And right now, with all that’s going on—” Samuel stopped short, and his face flushed ruddy.
Now it was Joseph’s turn to finish Samuel’s unspoken thought. “Right now, a lot of people will come to the store.”
“Ja,” Samuel agreed uncomfortably. “They will. They’ve been peering in the windows and asking at the café and the bakery when it’ll be reopened. There’s droves of ’em hanging around town right now, but likely they won’t be here long. Best we make our hay while the sun shines.”
Joseph stood for a second or two, his eye skimming the crooked row of vehicles parked along the edge of the road. Reporters huddled in knots of two or three, many clutching morning coffees that steamed into the chilly air. Even from here he could make out the logo of Miller’s Café stamped on the disposable cups.
Joseph sighed, but Samuel was only talking sense. The dairy was gone, and the store was the Hochstedlers’ livelihood, at least for now. He needed to tend to it, best he could. Providing was the man’s part of looking after his family, and with Daed gone, that duty had fallen to Joseph. The fact that other Plain families were also depending on sales from the store made it an even heavier responsibility.
“All right, Samuel. I accept the kindness, and I thank you all for it. There might as well be some good to come to Johns Mill out of all this trouble. Sell as much as you can as quick as you can but take no other goods in on consignment. I don’t know that I’ll be keeping the store open for the long haul.”
Samuel looked relieved. “Fair enough. If there’s nothing else you need here, I’ll drive back to town and get the store opened up.” He grinned. “I’m first on the roster.”
Joseph didn’t have to ask why. Folks generally thought twice about misbehaving in Samuel’s presence. The builder’s sheer bulk was enough to settle most troublemakers.
He watched Samuel drive away, making sure his friend got past the growing huddle of Englischers without trouble. Several angled their cameras in the big man’s direction, but nobody attempted to get in his way, and the buggy was soon out of sight.
Joseph mounted the steps and walked into the kitchen.
Naomi stood at the stove, pushing strips of sizzling bacon around in a skillet with a long-handled fork. His mother’s favorite blue bowl sat close by, full of eggs already whisked and ready for scrambling, and a loaf of homemade bread sat on the cutting board, with a knife handy by. Naomi looked up as he came in.
“I’ll have this ready in a minute, and I’m making enough for you if you’re still hungry.” She smiled. “If the smell of bacon can’t tempt Miriam to eat, I don’t know what will.”
“Naomi, why didn’t Aaron drive you over, like we’d talked about?”
Naomi darted a guilty glance at him. She began forking the sputtering strips of meat onto the plate she’d lined with a paper towel to absorb the grease. “I didn’t ask him. He had to make a run to the vet this morning, and that’s in the opposite direction. I didn’t want to hold him up. It all worked out all right.”
“Samuel said a reporter was bothering you.”
“Not bothering. Just talking to me and offering me a ride, which I didn’t accept.”
“Sam said you seemed frightened, that you were trying to get in the gate to cut through the pasture to get away.”
Naomi carefully laid another bubbling piece of bacon on the plate. “Samuel was mistaken. I wasn’t the least bit frightened, and I’d planned all along to walk through the fields. I’m not scared of Englischers, but their cars make me nervous, flying by so close. Plus, they stink. The cars, I mean. Not the people.” As she speared the last bit of bacon with her fork, it popped viciously, spewing a glop of scalding grease on her hand. “Ouch!” Naomi exclaimed. She dropped the bacon on the plate and moved the pan to a cold burner before hurrying to the sink to rinse her burn under cool water.
“Let me see.” Joseph came close and took her small-boned hand in his, turning it to check the damage. A spot the size of a dime was reddening against Naomi’s pale skin.
“It’s nothing,” she murmured.
“It’ll hurt worse if you don’t tend it.” He handed her a clean towel. “Dry it off.”
He retrieved a paring knife from the dish drainer and moved to the aloe plant his mother had growing on the windowsill. He sliced off one of the thick lower leaves and squeezed out the clear gel.
“Here.” He gently dabbed the goo on the burn. “This’ll heal it up right quick. Put a bandage over it, and likely you’ll be good as new by morning.”
He glanced up to find Naomi’s gray-green eyes fastened on his. It had been a long time since he’d stood so close to any woman not related to him. He was near enough to notice the sprinkling of golden freckles across the bridge of her nose and to see how well her mouth was shaped, with a sweet dent just above its middle.
She seemed flustered by his scrutiny. She bit down on her lower lip as her eyes moved back and forth between his. “Denki, Joseph,” she murmured. “It feels better already.”
“Don’t walk here anymore, Naomi.” The words came without thought, gruff with feeling. “Not until things calm down. Please.”
“I won’t, if it worries you.”
“It does.”
“All right. I’ll get Aaron to drive me for the next few days anyhow.” Their eyes held together for a second or two longer, then she gently tugged her hand free. “I’d best get the eggs scrambling. Would you hand down that tray on top of the cupboard so it�
��ll be all ready to go? I want to get this food upstairs to Miriam while it’s nice and hot.”
Joseph retrieved the tray, glad for the excuse to turn away. Standing there, holding that small, damp hand in his own . . . he hadn’t felt so light-headed and strange around a girl since he’d first taken notice of Rhoda. His heart hammered as if he’d run half a mile, and his palms had gone so sweaty that the smooth wood of the tray nearly slipped out of his grasp.
Naomi was as different from Rhoda as night was to morning. Joseph had always thought that Rhoda, with her smooth mahogany hair and dark eyes, looked like a farmer’s wife should, curvy and strong, rosy-cheeked and full of energy.
Naomi was smaller and daintier, with a quiet, unhurried way about her. She’d always had plenty of gumption, though, in spite of her shaky health—or maybe, because of it. Even as a youngie, Naomi’d had more pluck than a lot of grown men.
Even so, when Sam had talked about her being cornered by that reporter, Joseph had felt a sudden sympathy for his hot-tempered brother. Maybe Naomi could hold her own, but Joseph still didn’t intend to see any man, Englisch or Plain, bothering her.
He watched as she set up Miriam’s breakfast tray, finishing it off with a steaming cup of tea. “I’ll carry that up the stairs,” he offered.
“No need.” She tucked a napkin beside the cup and smiled up at him. “I expect you’ll want to eat some breakfast and then get back to your woodworking. You likely have a good many orders waiting, ain’t so?”
He hadn’t thought of that, but ja, he did. The unexpected prospect of retreating to his woodshop bloomed into a hungry desperation. He hadn’t realized until this moment how much he craved the normalcy of it, the peace of doing something he was good at instead of blundering around this house like a moth banging against the globe of a lamp.
It would be a sweet relief.
Still. He cast a worried look at the stairs leading to the family bedrooms. Miriam hadn’t taken Emma’s departure well, and today would be a hard day for her.
“Don’t worry about your sister,” Naomi said gently. “I’ll see to her just fine. No point in keeping a cat and still chasing the mice yourself, Joseph.” She arranged a portion of eggs, bacon, and sourdough bread onto a plate and slid it in his direction before pouring a mug of tea from the chubby white pot sitting on the table. “Eat. Then get on outside and tend to your work. I’ll let you know when lunch is ready.”
“Denki, Naomi.”
She didn’t answer, only gave him one of her sweet, slow-blooming smiles. Then she lifted the tray and started for the stairs.
Joseph hadn’t been hungry before. He hadn’t cared about food for days. But as Naomi’s footsteps creaked on the steps, he sat down at the table, picked up his fork, and started to eat.
Chapter Nine
Naomi made it to the landing before she had to stop. Setting the tray on the small painted table positioned under the window, she pressed one hand against her pounding heart. She stood there for a moment, measuring her breaths and willing herself not to worry about the wave of dizziness that had halted her.
The tray was heavy, and there’d been all the stress of her surprise meeting with Eric. That’s what this was. Mostly.
Because when Joseph had looked down into her eyes, holding her injured hand so gently in his calloused one, Naomi had known for certain sure what she’d been suspecting ever since their buggy ride the other night.
She had some new heart trouble brewing. And that was a problem.
She couldn’t let herself fall for Joseph Hochstedler. He was a kind, good-hearted man, and he’d won her loyal affection years ago, but that was as far as it went.
Joseph had known her for years, and he’d never looked twice in her direction, not that way. Nee, he’d fallen for pretty, energetic Rhoda Lambright instead. Now that Rhoda had chosen Caleb, Joseph would soon find another girl to love, and it was plain enough what sort he fancied. Definitely not skinny, pale, ordinary ones like Naomi. And if he’d any idea she was getting a case of the flutters every time he glanced at her, he’d be sure to put a quick end to this arrangement of theirs.
Setting her heart on Joseph would be like putting a dozen loose eggs on a buggy seat. No matter how carefully you drove, sooner or later you were going to end up with a great big mess. She couldn’t allow herself to be so foolish, not now. There was too much at stake.
Lying in hospital beds during her illness, weary and bloated from her medications, she’d watched the nurses bustle here and there tending to their patients. How wonderful, she’d thought, to be so needed, to be capable of doing such great good for suffering folks. She’d prayed with all her heart that the Lord might one day allow her some way to be useful, too. Now Gott had graciously given her more than she’d dared hope for, and she wouldn’t spoil it by selfishly fretting for more.
Naomi took another steadying breath and wiped her damp palms down the front of her apron. Picking up the tray, she tackled the last stretch of stairs. She’d taken no more than four steps when she saw the huddled form on the varnished hall floor.
Miriam sat beside her half-opened bedroom door, her knees drawn up to her chin, her head buried in her hands. Her body shook as she struggled to breathe.
Naomi plunked the tray down at the top of the steps and hurried over. Crouching, she laid a gentle hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Miriam?”
Miriam raised her head. Green-flecked brown eyes very much like Joseph’s looked at Naomi through a film of tears.
“Can’t breathe,” she managed. “Tried to go downstairs. To help. But can’t.”
“Sell is awreit,” Naomi soothed, not sure quite what to do. She cast her mind back, trying to recall tricks she’d seen nurses use to calm panicked patients. A memory sparked. “Breathe, Miriam,” she said. “Breathe in while I count.”
“Can’t,” Miriam panted, her voice high with fear.
“Ja, you can. Breathe in through your nose, one, two, three four, five,” Naomi instructed. “Now hold that breath while I count. One, two, three, four, five. Now breathe out through your mouth, one, two, three, four, five.” Some of the terror ebbed out of Miriam’s expression. “Gut. Now, we’ll do it again.” Naomi made her voice sound like the nurses she remembered, kind but firm.
She counted out the breaths again, one by one. She’d no idea if she was doing this right, but since it seemed to be working, she kept it up. After three repetitions, Miriam’s panic seemed to have subsided, although she still trembled.
“I’m sorry.” Miriam’s face twisted as tears streaked down her cheeks. “I haven’t been out of my room, since—I haven’t been out of my room. But now Emma’s gone away”—the younger girl’s voice broke—“and Caleb’s not thinking straight. Joseph shouldn’t have to manage everything by himself.”
“He doesn’t have to,” Naomi assured her sturdily. “That’s why I’m here.”
“Joseph and Emma told me you were coming, but Melvin came up yesterday and said that I should be ashamed of myself, lying in bed when there was nothing really wrong with me. He said it went against our faith to mourn so, that it was sinful and lazy to let my brothers and my sister handle everything when I was perfectly capable of—”
“Don’t you pay any attention to your uncle,” Naomi broke in. “He’s twisting our faith all out of shape, saying such things. You’re not lazy, and you’re not selfish, either. You’re just upset, as anybody would be. You’re going to get better soon enough.”
Miriam shook her head miserably. “I couldn’t even make it down the hallway, Naomi. I’m such a coward. Every time I think about leaving my room, I just get so scared. I can’t breathe. I can’t move. It’s awful.”
“But you got yourself up and dressed, didn’t you? And you’ve made it outside your door.” Naomi slipped a comforting arm around the younger girl’s shaking shoulders. “That’s wunderbaar progress. Now, let’s try standin
g up.”
Naomi rose, tugging Miriam up with her. Briskly, she straightened the other girl’s kapp, tucking stray tendrils of her curly brown hair back into place. “Now, you can go back inside your room, if you like. I’ll bring your breakfast in, and we’ll have a nice talk while you eat. I can tell you all about Katie’s sweet new boppli. Or,” Naomi hesitated, then forged on, “we could both go down to the kitchen so I can heat up your tea. It’s likely gone stone cold, and I could use another cup myself. You can keep me company in the kitchen while I tell you all about how precious little Sarah is. Which will it be?”
Miriam’s face fell as she studied her half-opened bedroom door. “I would like to go downstairs, but what if I have another spell?”
“What if you do? It won’t bother me any, and there’s nobody else here to see. We’ll just do some more of that special breathing, and you’ll calm right down, same as before.”
“Ja, that helped.” An uncertain glint of hope appeared in Miriam’s eyes. “Will you stay right with me, Naomi? The whole time?”
“That’s what I’m here for, ain’t so? Come on. You’ve already managed the hardest part.”
“All right.” Miriam wrapped an arm tightly around Naomi’s waist. “If you’ll help me, maybe I can do this.”
“Of course you can,” Naomi assured her as they turned toward the stairs. “Just take your time, and—” She broke off. Joseph stood at the end of the hall, holding his sister’s breakfast tray.
His face had lost most of its color, but he smiled encouragingly. “You’d best hurry before I eat your share of breakfast, Mirry. Turns out, Naomi is a right gut cook.”
“You’d better not!” Miriam stepped in his direction, clutching Naomi tightly. “I can smell that bacon from here.”
Their voices were light as they teased each other, their words heartbreakingly ordinary. Only their shadowed eyes and Miriam’s shuffling steps hinted at their recent troubles. Joseph watched his sister’s approach intently. The tray tilted dangerously in his hands, but his smile stayed firmly in place.
Shelter in the Storm Page 9
