Shelter in the Storm

by Laurel Blount

  “To visit? You’ll be living with us, Emma.”

  “Nee,” Emma said quietly. “Ich kann naett. Henry needs a good deal of care in the night, and Nella isn’t able to tend him by herself anymore. I must stay on here, but if you work at the dairy, at least I will be able to see you every day. Miriam, too. You will have to bring her when you come to work. It is not an easy house, this one, but she cannot be left alone, so we will have to make the best of it.”

  Joseph cleared his throat. “She will not be left alone. Naomi is coming, too. I’ve just come from speaking with Isaac. We are to be married, Naomi and I, as soon as we can make the arrangements.”

  “Vass hosht ksaw?”

  Now it was Joseph’s turn to chuckle. “I said that Naomi is coming to Ohio, too. As my fraw.”

  “Oh, Joseph! That is wunderbarr news! I am happy for you both. Naomi is one of the sweetest girls I know, and I will be glad to have her as my sister. When is the wedding to be?”

  “Soon. A few weeks, likely. Isaac has agreed to let it move forward quickly.”

  “Isaac? But why are you talking to him? The wedding will be in Kentucky, won’t it?”

  “Ah.” Joseph fumbled for an answer. Of course Emma would expect Naomi to be married from her home. That’s the way things were always done. Somehow, though, he hadn’t even thought of it, and Naomi hadn’t said a word when he’d mentioned speaking to Isaac instead of taking it before her bishop in Kentucky. “There’s no time for a big wedding. I want to keep this simple . . . given how things are. Naomi understands that.”

  “Ja.” The syllable came softly through the phone line. “I am sure Naomi would be willing to do whatever you ask, but . . .” Joseph sensed that his normally outspoken sister was choosing her words carefully. “I wish Mamm were here. She could talk to you better than I can about such things.”

  “Just say what you need to say, Emma,” Joseph suggested shortly. He couldn’t believe he’d not so much as thought to ask Naomi about the wedding location, and it made him irritable.

  “All right, bruder.” A spark of Emma’s former spunk strengthened her voice. “I will. Naomi’s life has been plenty hard enough already. Don’t make it harder by being thick-headed. Of course she’ll agree to whatever you suggest, but that’s all the more reason why you shouldn’t let her.”

  Joseph frowned at the phone in his hand. “You’re talking in riddles, Emma.”

  “Naomi”—his sister paused as if struggling for words—“has always thought a lot of you,” she finished finally.

  Joseph raised his eyebrows as he realized what Emma was getting at.

  She was saying Naomi had always cared for him.

  “We have always been gut friends, Naomi and I,” he admitted carefully, testing the waters.

  “It was more than that for her. I’ve seen it for years, ever since we were all youngies, and I wasn’t the only one, either. It was plain enough to anybody who had eyes. Your kindnesses to her back then meant little to you, but they meant a great deal to her. Of course, you never took any real notice of her, and with her health problems and all, nobody expected it could go anywhere. But now that it has . . . well. Be gentle with her. It’s a great responsibility to be trusted with someone’s heart, Joseph. If that person cares for us more than we care for them, we can hurt them very deeply without meaning to.”

  He was still trying to wrap his mind around what his sister was suggesting, but the regret in Emma’s voice was so clear that he couldn’t let it pass unchallenged. “What Trevor did wasn’t your fault, Emma. You must stop blaming yourself.”

  “Ja,” his sister whispered sadly. “It was my fault.” Through the line he heard a loud knocking, and Emma called out, “Just a minute, please! I’m sorry, but I have to hang up, Joseph. Someone else has come to use the phone. I will talk to Melvin about your news. Call again as soon as you can.”

  “I will. Mach’s gut, Emma.”

  He hung up the receiver, and the silence of the near-empty store resettled around him. His eye lit on one of his father’s tan aprons, still crisp in its newness, hanging on a peg by the door leading into the storefront. Originally, there had been two aprons hanging there. The other peg was empty now.

  Joseph drew in a deep breath, then picked up the key he’d laid on the table. There was no time today for dwelling on the past. He had to get back to the farm as quick as he could. If what Emma said was true, if even a little of it was true, he had some fences to mend with Naomi.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  She probably shouldn’t be doing this.

  Naomi hesitated, one hand flat against the rough wooden door leading into Joseph’s woodshop. Then she ignored the twinges coming from her conscience and pushed it open.

  The workroom lay still in the January afternoon. Wintry sunlight streamed through the windows, illuminating the dust motes floating in the air. Naomi breathed in the cold, piney scent, and her heart fluttered with a special mix of joy and nerves that had come to mean Joseph to her.

  He had been gone a long time. She’d been on pins and needles all afternoon wondering about his talk with Isaac. She’d tried to stay calm for Miriam’s sake, but her ears had perked up at every sound coming from the road. She’d risen from their quilting to go to the kitchen sink more times than she could count, just so she could peek out the window.

  Twice she’d seen Englischers stopped on the side of the road snapping photographs of the house. The rest of the time, it had mostly been trucks rumbling by, interspersed with a few buggies.

  It had never been Joseph. His errand had taken much longer than expected. She wondered why.

  As soon as Miriam had gone upstairs to take a nap, Naomi had snatched her shawl and headed for the chicken coop. She couldn’t stay in the house another minute. On the way back to the kitchen with the basket of eggs, her gaze had snagged on the woodshop door, and temptation had won out.

  Naomi shut the door softly behind herself. She felt closer to Joseph here than anyplace else on the farm. It was so like him to take a place nobody else had wanted and turn it into something useful. She saw his quiet, dogged responsibility in the way the tools were set so neatly in their places, and of course, in the lovely pieces that were waiting for delivery, she saw his skill.

  She tugged an old sheet off a finished rocking chair and ran a finger down the gleaming wood. Joseph had been working on this piece for days, a gift Matthew Troyer had ordered for his new fraw. The chair was simple, but beautiful in its very plainness. Like everything Joseph made, this rocker was the best of its kind, strong and fine and useful.

  She lowered herself into the chair. Someday soon Matthew’s Ellen would rock their boppli in this, no doubt, and whenever she did, she would feel the loving thoughtfulness of her young husband surrounding her like an embrace.

  How sweet that would be for her.

  Naomi pressed her lips together and tightened her fingers on the glossy arms of the rocker. It was a sin to be greedy. She knew that. She’d cut her teeth on such teachings, sitting beside Mamm in church meetings. It was wrong to be ungrateful for Gott’s blessings or to envy others because He had seen fit to give them gifts that He’d chosen in His wisdom to withhold from you.

  She’d had plenty of opportunities to learn this during her illness, when it had been so tempting to feel jealous of others whose hearts were strong and healthy. She’d thought she’d learned this particular lesson well, but right now she seemed to be having some trouble remembering it.

  Assuming all had gone well with the bishop today, Joseph would soon be her husband. That alone was gift enough from Gott. She’d never expected to have any husband at all, much less one such as Joseph. She should be nothing but grateful.

  Instead, as the day had dragged on, she’d fretted, dwelling on the idea that Joseph had likely hoped once that Isaac would be his father-in-law. Wondering, when he’d gone to speak to the bi
shop today, if he’d wished he could be there asking to publish his intentions to marry Rhoda instead of Naomi.

  Now she was sitting here in a chair he’d made for another man’s wife, wishing that when Joseph had offered her marriage, he’d looked at her just a little like Matthew Troyer looked at his Ellen. Or even as he’d looked at Rhoda that awful morning she’d come barreling up Katie’s driveway in the pony cart.

  She was being childish. Once, when Naomi was about five, she’d gone to the county fair with her family so Daed could look at the livestock. There had been a man selling funnel cakes there, hot, twisted masses of sweet, fried batter covered with a heavy dusting of powdered sugar. They had smelled heavenly. Her brothers had gotten several to share, but her mamm had led Naomi away to look at piglets without letting her have so much as a bite. Fried dough, especially bought in a place like the fair where there might be bad germs, was not on Naomi’s special heart-friendly diet.

  She’d cried over it, and Mamm had gently scolded her in Deutsch by the pigpen. One must learn to accept what one could not have, even little girls. It was shameful to fuss, and besides, it did no good.

  Naomi leaned back in the chair, the gentle curves of the piece fitting her body as if it had been made for her, instead of Ellen Troyer. She closed her eyes and used one foot to rock the chair gently on the hard, earthen floor. Her nerves had kept her anxious all day, and it felt gut to rest here for a minute.

  Perhaps once she was married to Joseph, she should write to Lyddie. There might be some comfort in exchanging letters with another woman who’d married a man who didn’t love her, but who’d made it work so well.

  Ja, that’s what she would do, Naomi thought, yawning. She would write to Lyddie.

  Her thoughts slowed, growing heavy and dull with sleep. Naomi’s chin dipped down, and her body relaxed.

  “Naomi?”

  She jolted awake, and for a second didn’t remember where she was. She pressed one hand against her startled heart and looked up to see Joseph standing in the doorway of the woodshop, looking puzzled.

  “What are you doing out here?” he asked.

  “Oh! Ich binn sorry,” she whispered, standing up. She had to push a little on the arms of the chair to do so. Her legs felt oddly stiff and weak. “Miriam was resting, and I was tired of staying in the house. I shouldn’t have come in here, I know, but—”

  “You are welcome to come in whenever you like, Naomi. I was just surprised to see you sleeping out here, that’s all.”

  Naomi twisted her fingers together, feeling foolish. “I sat down to try out the chair, and it was so comfortable, I guess I nodded off.”

  Joseph smiled. “That’s a fine compliment, seeing how cold it is in here. You should get yourself back into the house and get warmed up. I’ll come inside in a minute, and we’ll talk.”

  Naomi started to ask him how his meeting with Isaac had gone, but she felt oddly reluctant to do so. Joseph would tell her sooner or later, she supposed.

  “You must have gotten cold yourself, driving home. I’ll make some kaffe for you to have when you come inside.” She turned to tuck the sheet carefully over the rocker. “This chair is beautiful, Joseph. Matthew’s Ellen will be well pleased with her gift, I’m sure.”

  “Naomi?”

  She halted on her way to the door and turned to find Joseph watching her, looking uncomfortable.

  “Ja?”

  “If you would like a rocker for yourself, you’ve only to ask. I’ll make you one as a wedding gift, if that’s what you want.”

  A wedding gift. Naomi’s mouth went dry, and she had to fight to swallow. “So Isaac has approved our plans, then?”

  “He has. He was kind about it. Afterward I stopped in at the store and called up to Ohio so Melvin could start looking out for a nice house for us.”

  A house for us. Her brain kept replaying phrases Joseph spoke, wondering over them. “Oh, Joseph! A house of our own.” A smile spread over her face like butter on warm bread. “That’s so exciting!”

  Joseph smiled back, but he shook his head. “Don’t get too excited. Melvin’s idea of nice and yours may be different. We won’t be able to afford much, in any case, so whatever house we get will likely be small and need some fixing.”

  She didn’t care. It would be her home, hers and Joseph’s. Naomi lifted her chin. “I will not complain,” she promised him.

  “Nee.” Joseph stubbed the toe of his boot into the sawdust on the floor. “You never do complain, Naomi, but once we’re married, I hope you’ll tell me, straight out, anytime you want something. I can be”—he hesitated a second before continuing—“thickheaded when it comes to guessing such things, but I’ve no wish to see you unhappy.”

  Once we’re married. Naomi’s heart caught mid-beat at his words, and her smile widened. “You’re not so thickheaded, Joseph.”

  “Emma says different. I happened to catch her in the phone shack when I called, and she nearly tore a strip off my hide when I told her I’d been to see Isaac about marrying us here in Johns Mill. I never even asked you about that, Naomi, and it was selfish of me. Would you rather get married in Kentucky? I’m not sure if your bishop will understand our situation as Isaac does, but if it is important to you, we can wait if we have to. I’ll move on up to Ohio with Miriam, and we can be married afterward, just as well.”

  Naomi thought quickly. Her bishop was a very kind and devout man, but he was also old and set in his ways. He was not prone to bending rules, no matter how logical the argument was. He was one of the reasons that her own surgery had been delayed for so long, against the worried urging of her pediatric cardiologist. Bishop Charlie Atlee hadn’t felt comfortable approving a confusing heart surgery that he couldn’t square with his beliefs. He’d finally relented, but it had been a very near thing.

  Charlie would never agree to shortcut a marriage process, and she privately feared that if she delayed very long, the wedding might not happen at all.

  She shook her head firmly. “Denki, but I think we should be married here. My brothers and their families will come if they can, but I’d really like to keep it simple. I’m as close to Katie as I am to anybody in my family in Kentucky. Maybe she will let me be married from her home. I can ask her.”

  Joseph’s brow furrowed in concern as he studied her. “Are you sure, then, Naomi? Weddings are special times for girls. I don’t want you regretting anything later.”

  “I won’t. I am . . .” She halted, searching for the right word. It came to her quickly. “Content,” she finished firmly. “I am content, Joseph, with what you have planned. Truly.”

  One corner of his mouth tipped up. “All right, then. We’ll go ahead with things as they are. And you can tell me just what you’d like me to make for you, and I’ll get right on it.”

  Naomi smiled back, but she shook her head. “Please, don’t trouble yourself. You haven’t the time to make me anything, not if you’re going to finish all your other orders.”

  “I’ll make the time. I’m not offering you much as your husband, Naomi. I know that. You might as well take what little I do have to give.”

  The best furniture he could make for her. His unfailing kindness. A home of her very own. Those were the things Joseph was offering her. Joseph wasn’t giving himself near enough credit. Those were fine things, far better than any whistles or romantic looks.

  “I’ll like anything you make, Joseph,” she murmured, feeling strangely shy. She’d not expected this, and she didn’t want to put Joseph to any extra trouble. “But don’t you think maybe you should wait until we’re in Ohio? If you make me something now, it would just be another thing for us to move, ain’t so?”

  He looked a little taken aback, but he nodded readily enough. “I suppose you’re right. Anyhow, if you want a rocking chair, there’ll likely be time for me to make you one after we are settled, before any babies start coming
along.”

  Babies. Naomi could feel her cheeks flushing hot as the wonder of that word dawned fully upon her. Of course. She and Joseph would have children, likely. Strong-shouldered sons with Joseph’s unruly cowlick and his gift of working with wood, or sweet girls, maybe, with his green-flecked eyes and a hint of his smile.

  She felt a desperate need to get off somewhere by herself. She wanted to turn this idea over and over in her mind, considering it from every promising angle, like a toddler scurrying off to a corner to examine a stolen treasure. “I’d . . . better get back. I will see you in the house, Joseph.”

  She got through the door and snatched up the egg basket she’d left beside the barn. But she made it only halfway across the yard before she had to stop and catch her breath, pressing her hand hard against her hammering heart.

  Joy shifted hard into fear, as she faced what she’d been pushing aside for weeks. These spells of hers were getting worse.

  Something wasn’t right.

  She’d been assuring herself that she was only nervous and overexcited, but she’d just fallen asleep sitting in a freezing-cold barn simply because she’d sat down for a moment. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been able to go up the stairs without having to stop on the landing to catch her breath.

  She’d tried not to think about it. She hadn’t wanted to think about it, to consider what this might mean. There was far too much at stake for her to have something wrong with her health right now.

  But now Joseph was talking about babies. That idea made her feel as warm and gooey as a fresh brownie and took every bit of the starch out of her knees, but it also meant that she couldn’t brush aside these strange symptoms anymore.

  She needed to make an appointment to see a doctor, and soon. At least she knew where to go. When Naomi had announced her plans to come to Tennessee, her doctor back home had insisted on giving her the name of a good cardiologist in Knoxville.