A hopeful warmth spread through his chest, just as it had done every time Naomi’s acceptance of his bumbling proposal came to mind. He still couldn’t quite believe it was true. It would take some time to sink in—maybe more for him than for most. Changes had always come hard for him.
This change, though, was one well worth making. Joseph agreed with his church’s encouraging position on marriage, believing it provided a sturdy structure both to a person’s life and to the community at large. He’d have married before now, if things had gone differently with the dairy—and with Rhoda. Still, even when that disappointment had been fresh, he’d never given up on the idea of finding a wife. He’d even said as much to Naomi once, sitting at Katie’s kitchen table.
Funny now, to think how angry and hopeless he’d felt that last morning of the old days, before his world had broken apart and shifted into something new. He remembered the jumbled heat of his feelings for Rhoda with a strange lack of connection, as if they’d belonged to someone else.
He guessed, they had, in a way.
What he felt for Naomi was different. It was simpler. Cleaner. Stronger even. As usual, he couldn’t put the right words to his feelings, not even in his own head. But he sensed a deep rightness to this, and that sense of purpose had propelled him into town bright and early this morning.
He hadn’t expected the bakery to be so busy already. He could leave the discussion for another time, he supposed, but he’d prefer to get this seen to. He hoped Isaac would understand the need to move the wedding along quickly, but you could never be certain about such things, especially not when you were asking a church leader to depart from the tried-and-true way of doing things.
An Englisch man jostled against him on his way to the door.
“’Scuse me,” the stranger muttered automatically. Then he paused, darting a curious look into Joseph’s face.
Joseph nodded politely, but he quickly turned his head, pretending to study the handwritten list of specials taped to the inside of the bakery’s window. The man hesitated a second or two, but finally he went on through the door.
Joseph relaxed his clenched fingers and sighed. The last thing he needed today was to have somebody recognize him as one of the Hochstedlers. He’d best get off this sidewalk or that was going to happen for sure. He pulled open the glass door and walked into Isaac Lambright’s bustling business, simply named The Bakery.
The warm air smelled richly of coffee, baking pastries, and vanilla, and there was a low hubbub of voices. Joseph edged through the crowd toward the front of the store, careful not to make eye contact with anybody.
Unless he missed his guess, a good many of these folks were reporters. They had the look of it. The ones in line were talking on cell phones and juggling wide-strapped shoulder bags as they waited in the rope of people winding up to the glass-fronted counter. The ones who were already seated were tapping on paper-thin computers, their faces pinched in concentration. Most had cups of coffee positioned next to the phones lying flat on the table, their glances darting from screen to screen.
It didn’t bode well, so many Englischers back in town. Johns Mill had been calming down, but it looked like this movie business had already stirred things up again.
Behind the counter, Isaac’s wife, Ida, was busy taking orders. Her matronly sister Betta stood beside her in Rhoda’s old spot, filling them quickly. Joseph slipped past the line and flipped up the wooden partition leading to the employee area.
Before he could duck through, Isaac popped out of a doorway, like a hound ready to bark at an intruder. Looked like Joseph wasn’t the only one made uneasy by the throngs of Englischers. Isaac relaxed when his eyes met Joseph’s.
“Guder mariye,” he said, beckoning Joseph into his combination office and storeroom. “I’m glad to see you. I was planning to make a run to your place this afternoon, so you’ve saved me a trip. Wait just a minute.”
Isaac went behind the desk. As the bishop rummaged in the center drawer, Joseph’s eye lit on a large plastic tote sitting in the middle of the floor. It was stuffed with plastic greenery studded with pinecones and red berries. Isaac was storing away the bakery’s Christmas decorations.
Joseph fingered one of the garlands trailing out of the storage bin. They’d never put up decorations at home, of course, and privately Joseph had been taken aback when he’d seen them in The Bakery. More proof of the compromises that were being made in order to keep the tourists happy, he supposed.
Still, Mamm had always made a fuss over Christmas, especially second Christmas, the day when family visited and shared good food and games together. This year, the holiday had passed by quiet-like, barely marked at all.
He felt a quiet sadness as he tucked the rest of the greenery into the tote. He looked up to find Isaac studying him, the older man’s eyes gentle. He held out a large, brown envelope in Joseph’s direction.
“Here. This has all the records for the store, the deposits we’ve made, the payment for the pieces your daed had in on consignment. We’ve settled it up for you. There are only a few things left over now, since we haven’t been restocking. Folks bought you out, or nearly so, with their Christmas shopping. So we men think it’s time to close down the store. Unless you’ve decided to restock, that is. Have you?”
Joseph weighed the envelope in his hand. The money would be useful, but there was only one answer to Isaac’s question. “Nee. I’m no storekeeper, Isaac. I thank you for seeing to this. It has been a blessing.”
“Ach, well. I did not do so alone. Many helped.”
“I am grateful,” Joseph replied simply.
The bishop nodded, accepting the gratitude as easily as he would extend it, when it came his turn to be on the receiving end of such a gesture. “What brings you to town today, then, Joseph?”
“I’ve come to discuss a personal matter with you. I’m sorry to trouble you at your work, but—”
“That is all right.” Isaac’s eyes sharpened. He went to the door and closed it halfway, leaving a careful gap so that he could hear what was going on in the busy bakery. It was a simple gesture, but a new one, and Joseph recognized it for what it was. Isaac was keeping a protective eye on his own wife and family, as best he could. Joseph wasn’t sure if Isaac was worried about Trevor, the reporters, or Caleb, but clearly things had changed in Johns Mill for more folks than the Hochstedlers.
“So,” Isaac said, “what is it you want to talk about?”
“Two things. I want to let you know that Miriam and I are going to be moving to Ohio for a while, at least until this movie business is over and done with.”
Isaac blew out a long, slow sigh. “Not happy news for your friends here, but like I said earlier, that may be the best thing. And you realize, Joseph, that it’s not just the filming of the movie that’s going to stir up trouble. Later, when it’s showing in the theaters, things will likely get even worse, Sheriff Townsend says.”
Joseph nodded. He’d thought of that already. “We’re renting out the farm for three years at least. After that, we’ll see what happens.”
“Ja, you never know. Maybe you’ll like it up in Ohio. We’ll miss you, of course, but you’ve family there. Everybody understands.”
Joseph made a noncommittal noise. Maybe folks didn’t understand things so well as they thought, not if they were assuming that living closer to Melvin counted as a positive.
Isaac’s eyes twinkled. “Who knows? You might start a family of your own even.”
Joseph cleared his throat. “That was another reason I’ve come to see you, Isaac. I need to ask you about the possibility of marriage under some . . . special circumstances.”
“Oh?” The teasing twinkle faded from Isaac’s eye, replaced by a wary interest. He sank into the chair behind the desk. “Ask then, and we’ll see if I have an answer for you.”
Joseph swallowed and offered the speech he’d rehe
arsed on the ride into town. “I have asked Naomi Schrock to be my wife. She’s accepted, but in order for her to move with us to Ohio, we’ll need to get married soon.” When Isaac lifted an eyebrow, Joseph hurried to explain. “It would be much simpler for us to travel together, and it would make the trip easier for Miriam as well. I was hoping the church would see fit to help us move through the process right quick.”
“Naomi.” There was no mistaking the surprise on the bishop’s face. The old chair squeaked as he shifted. “You’ve decided to marry Naomi?”
Joseph nodded. “Ja. Soon, if that’s possible,” he added, in case Isaac had missed the sticking point.
Isaac took a couple of long moments to think before giving his answer. “Well, you’re both church members in good standing, and your age is no concern. You are both old enough to make such a decision with wisdom. I’ll need a letter from her bishop in Kentucky just to verify her standing in the church, but I see no trouble with allowing such a thing to move forward quickly, given the circumstances. You can be published this coming Sunday, if that will suit.”
Relief washed over Joseph like a splash of warm water. That had been easy enough. “It will suit.”
“I will speak to the ministers, then, and we will begin the process.”
“Denki.” He turned to go, but Isaac’s voice stopped him.
“I think this is a wise decision, Joseph. Naomi seems to be a levelheaded girl. I have found no foolishness in her. Her long illness has taught her patience and wisdom, I think, and she has a sincere gratitude to Gott for being spared to work and serve others.”
“Naomi has shown our family great kindness, for sure.”
“Some have built marriages on much less firm a foundation, and they’ve paid a steep price for it. Love grows after a marriage just as well as before it, maybe better. Naomi may not be the first girl your heart would have chosen, but she will be a gut help and a comfort to you and to your family, and that is what counts most.”
Everything Isaac was saying was true. Somehow, though, his words fell wrongly on Joseph’s ears. It sounded as if Naomi were a mare Joseph was buying, and not a particularly choice one.
He started to argue then caught himself. Isaac had agreed to the speedy timetable. Joseph had gotten what he’d come for. A wise man chose his words carefully in such a situation.
“Denki. I’ll let Naomi know that you have approved it, and we will begin to make our plans.”
Back out on the street, Joseph started toward the parking area, then paused. He weighed the envelope Isaac had given him, feeling the bumpy outline of the keys through the thin paper, thinking hard. He turned and strode down the street toward Hochstedler’s General Store.
He managed to turn the key in the balky lock and slipped in without being noticed. The old oilcloth shades were pulled down behind the windows, leaving the big store dim, but Joseph didn’t need light to know where he was. All he had to do was close his eyes and breathe.
The scent of the place yanked him backward in time. If somebody had asked him yesterday what this store smelled like, he wouldn’t have been able to say. But now he knew. It smelled of wood and lemon oil and a whiff of mustiness that had probably been trapped in the cracks of this old building since time began.
Even though the Hochstedlers had run the store only a short time, the scent reminded him sharply of his daed. Joseph half expected to see his father walk out of the storeroom, his tan shopkeeper apron tied around his middle, smiling.
Involuntarily, Joseph glanced toward the counter, then quickly away. He shook his head, trying to clear it. He’d not come here to remember or to dwell on what had happened inside these walls. He had other business to attend to.
He headed toward the storeroom, scanning the store as he went. As Isaac had said, the place was near emptied out, with only a few leftover items here and there. That ugly quilt of Rowena Miller’s that Mamm had taken out of pity, knowing she’d never sell it. A few blank-faced dolls and wooden spinning tops. A cardboard box filled with half-pint jars of blackberry jam. Most of the shelves were empty.
Good, then. It would be that much easier to close it up. He should talk to Mona and see whether it would be wisest to rent the place out to another business or to sell it outright.
He flicked on the light in the storeroom, and it sprang into an artificial brightness. The church allowed businesses to run electricity and to have telephones. Computers even, in some places, although Daed hadn’t gone that far. He’d decided to keep his ledgers by hand, just as he’d done with the dairy for years. Those handwritten ledgers were neatly stored on a shelf down in the basement, and Joseph made a mental note to pack them up for the move.
Joseph reached for the phone and pressed a button. The dial tone buzzed in his ear. Quickly, he punched in the number he’d memorized and waited for the answering machine to pick up. When it did, he cleared his throat.
“This message is for Emma Hochstedler, staying with Melvin Hochstedler, from her brother Joseph in Tennessee. Please let her know—”
There was a click as the receiver on the other end was lifted.
“Joseph?”
Joseph stopped, astonished. “Emma? Is that you?”
“Ja! It is me! Oh, it is so gut to hear your voice!”
“Yours, too. What were you doing in the phone shack?”
“Hiding,” Emma admitted guiltily. “I needed a few minutes to myself.”
“What a blessing for you to be there when I happened to call.”
“Well, that’s not quite so unlikely as you might think. I walk down here most every day, saying I need to check for messages for home. They think it’s foolish, because there never is a message, but they don’t argue too much. I linger as long as I can. It’s cold, but it’s peaceful enough. Folks here don’t use the phone any more than they have to.”
Joseph shifted guiltily, making the old floor beneath his boots creak a protest. “I should have called you before now, I reckon.”
“That’s all right. I’ve appreciated your letters, although I could do with less descriptions of how fine everybody’s cows are looking. I see more than enough cows here, although they’re such sad-looking beasts, nobody’s likely to brag on them. Melvin doesn’t keep his Jerseys near so sleek as you and Daed always did.”
Joseph wasn’t surprised. “That costs money, especially in winter. You won’t catch Melvin spending on anything he can make do without.”
“Ja, things are pretty lean here. I don’t think Melvin’s doing much better with his dairy than Daed was those last few years, and of course, he’s got no family able to help him. Henry can’t even feed himself without help, and Nella’s legs bother her a good deal. She spends a lot of time in her rocker.”
No wonder Emma sounded so tired, Joseph thought. He could guess who was carrying most of the burdens in Melvin’s home. “That must mean a lot of work for you.”
“I am thankful to do it. I am blessed to have family that is willing to take me in, after—everything that happened. I try not to forget that.”
Joseph’s heart constricted. He doubted very much that Emma would be allowed to forget that, not while she was sitting down at Melvin and Nella’s table. “I’m sorry. I wish—”
“There’s nothing for you to apologize for,” Emma cut in quickly. “I’ll have to get back soon, so let’s not waste our time. I’m starving for news from home. Have you heard anything from Caleb since the church placed him under the ban? Is Miriam any better?”
“There’s no news of Caleb, not yet. Miriam was doing much better, but she’s had a setback.” He described the incident at the café while Emma made worried noises. “She won’t leave the house now, but at least Naomi’s got her coming downstairs and sewing again. I’m thankful for that.”
“I am, too. Gott sent Naomi to us for sure. She has been such a blessing.”
“Ja.”
Joseph smiled. “She has been.”
“I wish I could be there to help out, too.” His sister sighed. “I was hoping maybe I would at least be able to come back for a visit, but if Miriam can’t even go to Miller’s without being bothered, I suppose I’d best not. It’s too bad, though. I miss you all so much.”
“You won’t be missing us much longer. We’re coming to Ohio, Emma.”
His sister’s gasp of joy came clearly through the receiver. “For true, Joseph?”
For true? As long as he could remember, that childish expression had been Emma’s response to any happy surprise.
“For true.”
“Oh, Joseph! Goodness, I’m crying, I’m so happy! When will you be here? How long will you be able to stay?”
“In a month or so, if all goes as expected, and we’ll be staying for a long while. That’s why I was calling, so you could tell Melvin to keep a lookout for a house for rent. A small one,” he added quickly. “We won’t have much to live on, but I’ve rented out the farm, so we’ll have that income. If Melvin will hire me on at the dairy, we’ll scrape by well enough, I reckon.”
“Joseph, I don’t understand. You want to rent a house? Here?”
“Unless you think we would be better off staying with Melvin and Nella.”
“You’d be better off in the barn with those poor skinny cows,” Emma said wholeheartedly. “But Joseph, for you to think of coming here . . . things at home must be worse than I’d thought. What’s going on? Tell me.”
He sketched out what sparse details he knew about the Englisch movie. Emma listened without interrupting, but the heaviness of her silence came across the connection.
“It will be a while, then, before we can all come home,” she said when he’d finished.
“A while, ja. But even if we can never come back to Johns Mill, we will be all right, Emma, as long as we hold on to our faith and to each other.”
“Listen to you, bruder.” Emma chuckled softly. She’d always been a great girl for laughter, and Joseph was glad to hear a hint of it in her voice again. “You sound so much like Daed. Well, it will be a real blessing for me to have you and Miriam close enough to visit, that’s for sure.”
Shelter in the Storm Page 19
