Shelter in the Storm

by Laurel Blount

  Naomi’s heart swelled with a fierce joy. That schtinker of an uncle would do better to hold his tongue. These Hochstedlers were the bravest folks she’d ever met.

  “Why don’t you take the food on down, Joseph?” Naomi suggested. “We’ll follow behind.”

  “Wait,” Miriam protested breathlessly. Joseph froze in mid-turn, his brow creasing with concern.

  Miriam released Naomi’s arm and snitched a strip of bacon from the plate. She bit into it, flashing a determined smile at her brother. “You’re right, Joseph. Naomi has done gut.”

  “Ja,” Joseph agreed huskily. His gaze met Naomi’s in a way that had her pulse stuttering out of rhythm again. “She has done wonderful gut.”

  He walked down the steps before them, his wide shoulders blocking most of the view. Naomi followed with Miriam, careful not to rush her. Naomi understood how wearying it was to stand and walk after even a few days of being bedridden.

  Besides, Naomi’s knees were feeling a little wobbly, too.

  Once downstairs, Joseph strode ahead to place Miriam’s breakfast on the table, but Miriam faltered on the last step, looking around the kitchen.

  Naomi’s heart constricted with sympathy. After she’d lost her own mother, it had been especially painful to set foot in the kitchen, a room where Mamm had spent so much time.

  As Naomi fumbled for something comforting to say, Joseph turned and caught sight of his sister’s face. He crossed the room and took Miriam’s arm.

  “Come,” he murmured, leading her toward the table. “Sit.” He pulled out a chair with his free hand.

  Miriam looked up at him, her face stricken. “This is Mamm’s place,” she whispered.

  “It was, ja. Now it will be yours. The faces around the table change . . .” He trailed off, looking expectantly at Miriam.

  “But die familye goes on,” she finished softly. “Grossdaddi said that when Grossmammi passed. I remember.” She sat, and Naomi released the breath she’d been holding.

  Joseph took the plate of food and the teacup from the tray and arranged them in front of his sister. When Miriam dipped her head for her silent mealtime prayer, Joseph stayed beside her, resting his hand on her shoulder. There was something so tender about the gesture that Naomi found herself blinking back tears. She couldn’t imagine any of her brothers dealing with her half so patiently.

  When Miriam had finished praying, she picked up her fork, and took a small, deliberate bite of eggs. “Denki for cooking breakfast, Naomi,” she said when she’d swallowed.

  “Ja,” Joseph echoed as he pulled out his own chair. “Denki.” The look he sent her over his sister’s head made it clear that he was thanking her for more than the food, and Naomi’s joy expanded inside her breast until she could barely breathe.

  “Du bisht welcome,” she murmured. “Joseph, would you like another cup of tea? There’s plenty in the pot.”

  “Ja, and you can sit down and have some with us, Naomi.”

  “Please,” Miriam added insistently, so when Naomi went to retrieve the teapot from its spot on the counter, she took out another cup as well. She paused at the table to pour the still-warm tea into Joseph’s cup. Her arm brushed his sleeve as she did, and her heart did another one of its crazy leaps.

  “Sit here, Naomi.” Miriam patted the seat next to her own. When Naomi had sat down, Miriam smiled, tears shimmering in her eyes. “That is Emma’s place. I am glad for you to sit in my sister’s spot while she’s gone.”

  “I imagine Emma will be wishing soon enough that she was back in that chair,” Joseph muttered.

  “Maybe she’ll come home all the more quickly, then.” Miriam’s voice already sounded stronger. She scooped a second fluffy bite of egg onto her fork, and Naomi smiled. Another thing she’d learned in the hospital—a good appetite was often the first real sign of improvement.

  Someone knocked on the kitchen door, and Miriam jumped, spilling egg on the table. For a second, Naomi feared Miriam was going to bolt, but then Rhoda pushed open the door and stuck her dark head inside.

  “It’s only me,” she said. “Well, me and Daed. He’s tending the horse. Star started limping on the way over, and Daed is checking his hoof. I’ve come to spend the day. Miriam, how good to see you in the kitchen!” Rhoda leaned to give her sister-in-law a gentle hug. As she did, she set a crumb-sprinkled pie plate on the table. “How are you feeling?”

  Naomi didn’t hear Miriam’s reply. She stared at the dish uneasily. That was Katie’s plate, the old one with the dent in the rim that Naomi had borrowed. Last time Naomi had seen it, it had been full to the brim with a warm apple-raisin pie. How in the world had Rhoda ended up with that?

  “I’ll see if Isaac needs help with the horse.” Joseph took one long drink of his tea then rose.

  “He wants to talk to you anyway.” Rhoda sighed as she sank into the chair Joseph had left empty.

  “Are you all right, Rhoda?” Joseph asked.

  Naomi pulled her gaze away from the pie pan. Joseph hovered over Caleb’s wife, his face tight with concern. It wasn’t hard to see why. Rhoda’s eyes were puffy and underlined with heavy half-moons of purple.

  Sweet, sunny-natured Rhoda had been crying hard this morning, over her headstrong husband, most likely. If Rhoda was this upset, and her father needed to talk to Joseph, that could only mean that the situation with Caleb wasn’t improving.

  Rhoda kept her gaze on the tablecloth. “I am well enough, considering. Is there more tea, Naomi? I could use some.”

  “Ja.” Naomi rose to fetch another cup from the cupboard. Joseph hesitated for a moment longer, then headed for the door.

  As soon as he was gone, Rhoda said, “Is that your pie pan, Naomi? One of those reporters insisted that it was. He flagged down Daed as we turned into the driveway and asked us to see that you got it back.”

  Naomi swallowed hard, but she couldn’t lie. “It’s Katie’s, but, ja, I borrowed it.”

  When she turned with the fresh cup in her hands, Miriam was looking at her with blank astonishment. “Why would one of those Englischers have such a thing?”

  “That was my father’s question, too.” Rhoda poured herself some tea with a grateful sigh. “If Star hadn’t picked up that piece of gravel, Daed would likely have come in to ask about it himself.”

  Naomi sent a quick prayer of thankfulness heavenward for convenient bits of gravel. “It’s nothing. I’d baked a pie to bring today, but while I was walking along the road, a car stopped to see if I needed a ride.” She hesitated, wondering how much of the truth she should share. Glancing at Miriam’s worried face, she decided to stick to the basics. “It was one of the reporters. Of course I wasn’t going to ride with him, but he was trying to be kind, so I gave him the pie.”

  Her conscience pricked her. She hadn’t explained that she knew Eric, but surely that wasn’t really important.

  She looked up from her tea to find Rhoda studying her. “Well,” Rhoda said, “I suppose it’s a blessing the fellow had enough sense to return the pie tin, especially since you borrowed it from Katie.” Rhoda seemed to suspect there was something Naomi wasn’t telling, but she was either too polite or too burdened by her own troubles to ask about it.

  “Ja. You’re right,” Naomi agreed. “I guess I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

  “Of course you weren’t,” Miriam said staunchly. “I would’ve been scared witless if an Englischer came up to me like that. It’s hard to think straight when you’re frightened.”

  “That’s true.” Rhoda’s expression softened as she looked at her new sister-in-law. “So we must try hard to trust Gott and fight back our fears, ain’t so? Just like you are doing right now, Miriam. You must help me follow your good example.”

  Her voice wobbled as she spoke. Miriam reached out and clasped Rhoda’s and Naomi’s hands in her own and gave a gentle squeeze.

  �
�We will all help each other,” she whispered. “Every day until the sun comes back out. That’s what sisters do, ain’t so?”

  “Ja,” Rhoda said shakily.

  “Ja,” Naomi agreed with a smile. She stretched across the table and took Rhoda’s free hand in her own, closing the circle.

  Likely most folks in Johns Mill were thankful they hadn’t been called by Gott to suffer the trials of the Hochstedlers. However, if Naomi could have wished herself anyplace in the wide world, she would still have chosen to be sitting at this kitchen table, holding the hands of these two sad-eyed women, who considered her a sister.

  And that’s who she was to the Hochstedlers—all of them. An honorary sister. She’d best try to remember that the next time she started feeling silly around Joseph. After all, being loved in this way truly was a precious thing and a great deal better than nothing.

  Even if it didn’t always feel that way.

  Chapter Ten

  “There we go.” Joseph flicked out the offending bit of gravel with the hoof pick he’d retrieved from the barn. He straightened and rubbed his back. “Good as new.”

  “Denki.” Isaac released the horse’s bridle and gave the leg a firm pat. “I hope it wasn’t there long enough to cause any real damage. Star’s a hardworking horse, and I wouldn’t want him to go lame.”

  “I’m more cowman than horseman, but I don’t think he will. Do you have time to come in for a cup of tea, Isaac?”

  The older man shook his head. “Nee. I’ll need to get back to the bakery to help Ida. We’ve a big delivery coming today. Ever since they showed up”—he nodded toward the reporters grouped along the roadside—“we’ve had more business than we can handle.”

  “They’re good for business, ja, but I’m glad enough to see fewer of them out there today.” A sheriff’s cruiser drove slowly by, and some of the men stepped back off the edge of the yard, carefully staying on the right-of-way next to the road. “Seems like Sheriff Townsend has settled them down some, at least. They are staying off the property, even without the deputies here full-time now.”

  “I don’t know whether it was the sheriff or your bruder we should credit for that,” the bishop observed dryly. “That’s something I need to speak with you about, Joseph.”

  Joseph shifted so that his back was toward the road. The heaviness in Isaac’s tone told him that he was about to hear something unpleasant, and he didn’t want any camera capturing his reaction to it.

  “Caleb?”

  Isaac nodded. “I’ve been talking to him. Or trying to. I’m afraid I’ve not seen much return for my efforts.”

  “Ach, well. Don’t blame yourself. Caleb has always been schtubbich.”

  “I fear this is more than stubbornness, Joseph. Even my dochder cannot reason with him. They argued last night, and he left in a temper. He’s not been back, and she’s very upset.”

  Joseph inhaled the sharp winter air through his nose. “Ja, it would be so. He behaves like a wounded animal, my bruder. His pain and anger blind him, and he tramples whoever’s standing closest to him.”

  “Hurt and grief are dangerous companions when they have not been surrendered to Gott. I’ve told Caleb this. I’ve tried to counsel him as a father would do, but he seems unwilling to listen.”

  Frustration rumbled in Isaac’s voice, and Joseph felt a pang of understanding sympathy. This bishop and his fraw had been blessed with only the one daughter. While Rhoda had her share of spirit, she was basically a sweet, obedient girl. Nothing had prepared the bishop for a son-in-law like Caleb.

  “I don’t wish to cause you alarm. Your family has suffered pain enough already. But, Joseph, I feel I must be honest with you. I am very worried over Caleb—and Rhoda, too. If he doesn’t turn away from this path of revenge and anger, I fear we could lose them both.”

  “Lose them?” Joseph’s heart dropped. Apparently, Caleb was in an even darker place than Joseph had thought. “You think Caleb’s going to jump the fence?”

  “He’s only hinted as much so far, but ja. That is my concern. I think this root runs deep, Joseph, that the outburst with the reporter is only the edge of a much bigger problem. Caleb’s heart is not at rest here among us; perhaps it never has been. I suspect that your brother professed a faith he did not truly believe, and now his lie has come back to trouble him, as such lies tend to do.”

  The truth of the bishop’s words struck painfully home. Caleb had even admitted as much—that he had joined the church only because he wanted to marry Rhoda.

  Joseph didn’t know what to say, and after a moment, Isaac cleared his throat. “I wanted to let you know of my concerns so that you can also seek opportunities to speak to your bruder’s heart, to remind him of the blessings and ties he yet has here among us. A fresh appreciation for these things may turn him from this path, if anything can.”

  If anything can. Joseph wondered if anything could. If Rhoda, the very reason Caleb had entered into a false covenant with the church in the first place, hadn’t been able to sway him, Joseph didn’t have high hopes for much else doing the job. “I will talk to him, of course. But he’s less likely to listen to me than to you, Isaac.”

  “Well, we will do our best, we will ask Gott for help, and we will not give in to discouragement. We must be patient with your bruder. This will not be fixed overnight, for sure. Remember, the prodigal did not turn from his ways easily.”

  Neither would Caleb. Joseph remembered how their father had been so concerned about Caleb, and how joyful he’d been about the marriage he believed would help bind his son’s heart to the church. Daed would have been so grieved by this. This was what he’d always feared for Caleb, that his younger son’s temper would pull him from his faith and his family.

  Joseph couldn’t let that happen, couldn’t let his father’s deepest fear become reality. He’d find some way to turn Caleb’s heart. He had to.

  “Tell Rhoda not to fret, Isaac. I will make Caleb see reason,” he promised grimly.

  “Tread carefully, Joseph. Those who stray are not won home with harshness. When the prodigal came back, he was received with kindness, ja?”

  A muscle jumped in Joseph’s cheek as he gritted his teeth. “I will show him kindness.”

  “Gut.” Isaac clapped him on the back approvingly. “Although,” he added, “that reminds me of something else I meant to speak to you about. There may be times when our kindness could be misinterpreted.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Only this. If you truly want to be rid of those Englischers down at the road, you might tell Naomi to stop feeding them pie.”

  “Vass maynsht?” Joseph asked, confused. Isaac was talking in riddles.

  “Today one of them presented me with an empty dish and his thanks to Naomi for his breakfast. It is well enough to be friendly, but if a man doesn’t want crows in his cornfield, he’d best not feed them in his yard, ain’t so?”

  “Ja,” Joseph agreed, but he still didn’t understand. “Naomi gave one of the Englischers a pie?”

  “So it seems.” Isaac chuckled. “If they want pie, tell them to come to my bakery and pay for it. We’ve plenty. Speaking of that, I must get back. Rhoda is staying here for the day to help however she can. Best for her to keep busy just now. I will come fetch her in the evening.” The older man climbed into the carriage, and Joseph stepped back to allow him space to turn his horse.

  As the bishop drove away, Joseph looked at the kitchen windows. He heard the low murmur of female voices, a reminder to focus on the blessing of this day. Miriam had finally come downstairs.

  He’d barely been able to believe it when he’d seen Naomi leading his sister toward the steps. None of them had been able to coax Miriam out of her room, not even Emma, though she’d tried her best. Somehow, though, Naomi had managed it.

  Maybe it was her eyes. When Naomi looked at him a certain way, he wanted
to do whatever she asked of him, too.

  He’d best question her about this pie business. Isaac’s story was a puzzle—and a fresh worry. Joseph should probably go back inside now and get to the bottom of it.

  Then again, maybe not. The bishop’s concerns about Caleb weighed heavily on Joseph’s heart, and the thought of unraveling yet another tricky problem made his head ache. Besides, Rhoda was in there, and Joseph didn’t relish the idea of looking into his sister-in-law’s eyes and seeing the pain his bruder had caused.

  Nee, he decided. He’d follow his first plan and go out to his woodshop. Whatever had happened this morning, Naomi was safe enough now. He’d best spend a few hours with his hands busy and his mind occupied with something other than trouble while he still had the chance.

  Because more trouble was coming; that was for certain sure. Sooner or later his brother would show back up, and trouble followed Caleb like a doting hound.

  Chapter Eleven

  Two mornings later, Naomi counted blue and yellow triangles out of the basket Miriam had brought down from her room. She arranged them on the freshly scrubbed kitchen table, trying to copy the pattern of the quilt square in front of her.

  This was harder than it looked. She had all the pieces in the right spots, but still the corners stuck out unevenly.

  She glanced at Miriam, whose head was bent over her own square, her fingers flying as she stitched in tiny, efficient movements.

  “I don’t think I’ve got this right,” Naomi worried aloud.

  Miriam craned her neck to peer over the basket. “You have the triangles turned the wrong way. Here.” The younger woman set her own work beside her second cup of tea and rearranged Naomi’s square. The disjointed bits transformed into a yellow star on a blue background. “There, now. Ready to stitch.”

  “Denki.” Naomi picked up two triangles and began slowly sewing the narrow seam that would bind them together. “You’ll have yours finished before I get mine started, Miriam. I’ve never seen anybody sew as fast as you.”