“It was my right not to tell you.” She choked the words out.
“But why, Naomi?”
“Because it couldn’t do any good!”
“What craziness are you talking? No good it could do? Have I not always helped you? Always? How could you not trust me with such news?”
“Because I didn’t want your help, Joseph. I wanted—” Your love. The words almost slipped past her lips.
“Well, you’ll have my help now, want it or not,” Joseph answered back fast—and stubbornly. “I’m going to the next appointment with you, and we’ll make the arrangements for you to have this operation.”
She shook her head. “It’s expensive, Joseph, and who knows if it will even work?”
“The doctor said it would, likely.”
“Ja, and they said the same about my last operation, but look how that turned out. A surgery like this will cost thousands and thousands of dollars. I’ve already put that load on my church at home once, and I can’t ask them to—”
“We won’t put the whole of the burden on them. I’ll take out a loan on the farm. I’ll sell it if I have to.”
“What?” She froze, staring at him.
“It’s good land and worth plenty. It should pay enough.”
He meant it. She could see it in his eyes.
“Nee!” Naomi hadn’t stomped her foot in years, but she rapped her heel hard against the scrubbed kitchen floor. “You will not do such a thing, Joseph Hochstedler!”
“A man does what he must for his wife.”
“I’m not your wife!”
“You will be. Nee, don’t shake your head at me, Naomi. This is why you were so quick to cancel our plans, ain’t so? Not because of my troubles, but because of your own. Well, I’ll not have it so. I won’t leave you to go through this on your own.”
This conversation was exactly the one she’d been trying to avoid. Joseph wasn’t talking about love anymore. He was talking about duty. Just as she’d feared, she and her troublesome health had become a burden this man would wreck himself trying to bear.
She wouldn’t allow that. But she couldn’t stay here and break her heart arguing with him, either. She wrenched her hands free of his and moved past him toward the back door.
“Naomi—”
She halted at the door, but she didn’t look back at him. “I know you only mean to be kind, and I thank you for that. But I don’t need your pity, Joseph. I’ve had enough of that for a lifetime already. Please. Leave me be.”
“Joseph?” Miriam called from upstairs, her voice trembling. “Is everything all right?”
“See to your sister,” Naomi said over her shoulder as she slipped outside. “She’s frightened, and she needs you.”
She stumbled down the steps and into the yard. Her heart was already pounding, and she wouldn’t be able to get far before she had to stop. She looked around desperately for some quiet place where she could gather herself together in peace, someplace Joseph wouldn’t think to look for her right away.
Not the barn. Titus was still standing in the drive, the buggy hitched behind him. As soon as Joseph had finished comforting Miriam, he’d have to see to his horse, so the barn offered no sanctuary.
Her eyes lit on the empty dairy building. She could hide out in there until she’d gathered herself together. She hurried down the hard-packed path as quickly as she could, cracked open the wooden door, and slipped inside.
The long, low building was dim and silent. Shafts of thin winter sunlight slanted through the smudged panes, full of swirling motes of dust. She’d comforted Joseph here, on that hard day when Rhoda had left town and Caleb had been placed under the ban. This empty building was as good a place as any to cry over might-have-beens.
Naomi edged into the shadows and leaned against the pitted brick wall, burying her face in her shaking hands.
She heard the creak of the door and Joseph’s voice at the same time. “Naomi?”
Her stomach clenched, and she answered without taking her hands off her face. “Joseph, please. Ich vill noch bisli zeit.”
“Ja, I know you want time, Naomi.” Even though she had her eyes squinched shut, she knew when he came closer, felt each step he made in her direction. “But I’ll not leave you out here to cry by yourself. We don’t have to talk yet if you’re not ready. But at least I can stand here with you, and that I’ll do. Here.” She heard a rustling noise, and the warmth of Joseph’s coat slipped over her shoulders. “You keep forgetting your shawl.”
The heavy fabric smelled of him, was warm from his body, and it jarred loose painful memories. He’d sheltered her with his coat before, that day in the barn when she’d said she would marry him. Something broke apart inside of her, and she struggled against it.
“Miriam will be upset,” she whispered. “She’ll need you. You should go back inside.”
“You’re the one who needs me right now, Naomi, although you’re mighty stubborn about admitting it. I want to help, and I don’t understand why you’re not willing to let me.”
He sounded annoyed. Anger flushed through her, and she lifted her face from her hands. “You’re right, Joseph. You don’t understand! You don’t understand what it’s like to be a burden to the folks you love, all your life. You don’t know what it’s like to see how frustrated they are when yet another bill comes in the mail or when the tests don’t come back good, even though you’ve tried so hard to do everything the doctor said to do.”
He studied her, his face incredulous. “You’ve never been a burden, Naomi. People care for you. Of course they will want to help you.”
“Well, I don’t want to be helped! People have helped me all my life—even after my operation, nobody would let me do much of anything. I didn’t know how to do much, but back home they wouldn’t let me even try. When Katie asked me to come help her with the baby, I was so happy. Do you have any idea what that was like? How wonderful it felt to finally be the one scrubbing floors and washing dishes for somebody else? I could do those things as well as anybody, and Katie even let me do some cooking. She didn’t care how many times my dishes went out to the pigs. She just let me keep trying until I got it right. She even thanked me. Then after your parents died, I’d learned enough to really help you and Miriam—I felt like Gott had finally answered my prayers. And when you asked me to—” She stopped and swallowed hard. “But now it’s all over.”
“Nothing has to be over, Naomi. You and I, we can still get married. We can—”
“Nee.” She shook her head. “You deserve better than to have some sickly fraw on your hands, running up bills, not even able to bear you children, likely—” She realized what she’d said and flushed. “I’m sorry, I’m . . . upset. But—”
“Sei shtill, Naomi.” Joseph gently spoke the simple words Plain children often heard from an adult when they were speaking out of turn, when their tongues outran their gut sense. Be still. Be quiet. “Here.” He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and offered it. When she hesitated, he added, “You’d best take it. Your nose is running.”
Horrified, she snatched the scrap of cloth out of his fingers and pressed it to her face. She darted an embarrassed glance at Joseph, but he was looking around the empty building, his expression sad.
“When Daed told me he was going to close the dairy, he explained to me all his reasons why this was best for the family. They were gut reasons, sensible ones. He told me that he had prayed over this decision long and hard, and that he felt Gott’s leading, and I knew my father well enough to know that he was a smart and careful man. I knew him well enough to trust him. And yet I resisted him over it, and even up until the day he died, there was a little rift between us. I regret that.”
The thoughtful pain in Joseph’s words jolted Naomi out of her own hurt. She wiped her nose carefully and said, “You loved the dairy, Joseph, and why not? It had been in yo
ur family for so many years. Your father must have understood your feelings. You have nothing to regret.”
He looked down at her, and his eyes crinkled in a warm and tender way that had her stomach tickling. “Ach, Naomi. Being married to you, I’m afraid it may be bad for my soul. You see no wrong in me, even where there’s plenty. Nee, I was thinking only of myself back then, just as you are now.”
Naomi frowned. “I don’t believe I’m being selfish, Joseph.”
“Ja,” he argued mildly. “You are. It’s selfish and prideful to be willing only to give help and not accept it when you truly have need. You’ve said as much to me yourself, when you wanted me to let you come here to help Miriam. You were right. Helping others is a blessing, and like all blessings, sometimes it is ours to have, and sometimes others must get their turn. You’ve blessed me beyond measure, Naomi, coming here in our hardest hours, bringing your light with you. Now that you’ve got your own troubles, you’re asking me to leave you alone in the darkness?” He shook his head. “That I will not do, and it’s wrong of you to ask it of me.” He crooked a finger under her chin, nudging her face upward.
She looked up to meet his eyes, ready to argue, but her protest died unspoken. He was so close, gazing down at her, that even in the dim light she could see what was in his eyes.
It wasn’t pity, after all. What resistance she’d mustered wilted into nothing.
“I love you, Naomi. At first, I thought the timing was poor, to fall in love when my life’s in such a shambles. I was wrong. It’s been Gott’s best gift to me, this love, growing during the hardest time of my life, like a thistle pushing up through rocky dirt.”
She smiled in spite of everything. Joseph and his choice of words. “So our love is like a thistle, then? Not a rose or a violet? But a pesky weed? With prickles?”
He smiled back, and the tenderness in his face made her catch her breath. “Ja, a thistle. Roses are fussy and take lots of care, and they die if you look at them sideways. Thistles grow best in the hardest places. Maybe they’ve prickles aplenty, but they’re strong, Naomi. You can’t hardly kill a thistle once it takes good root, and they bloom real pretty in their time. And when that time is past, their seeds will have scattered as far as the wind blows. Young thistles will spring up, sturdy and strong, far as the eye can see.” His thumb stroked her chin gently. “Wouldn’t that be something?” His lips quirked.
She understood what he was suggesting, and fresh pain poked at her heart. “Joseph, like I told you, I don’t know if—”
“We don’t have to know. All we have to do is trust Gott’s will and go faithfully through whatever doors He opens.” Joseph looked around the vacant building again. “And stop waiting outside the doors He chooses to close.” He searched her eyes so intently that the world around them faded into unimportance. “So what will it be, Naomi? Like I said the other day, I’ve little enough to offer you just now, but what I do have is still yours if you want it. Will you seek Gott’s will alongside me as my wife? Or are you going to leave me to stumble along without you?”
“Oh, Joseph.” His name slipped past her lips, carried on a sigh. There was only so long a person could resist when everything she’d ever wanted was offered to her “Ja. I will marry you, if you’re truly sure you want me.”
“I am sure.” The corners of his lips quirked up very slightly. “Truly sure. Are you? You’d better be. You’re not getting any bargain for yourself, taking me on.”
She lifted her own hand to press his closer against her cheek. “You’re talking nonsense, Joseph Hochstedler. Any woman would be blessed to have such a gut, kind, strong man as you for her husband.”
He chuckled, touching the tip of her nose with a gentle finger. “Like I said, you always add too much credit to my account. I’ll be in debt to you for the rest of my life, I think. It will be sweet for my heart, though, to have such faithful kindness in my corner. I must work hard to deserve it, ja?”
“Nee,” she replied with a soft certainty. “Nee, Joseph, I don’t think you’ll have to work very hard at all.”
He leaned down and touched her mouth with his, once, gently. Firmly. And when he lifted his lips from hers, she felt as if they’d sealed some sort of promise between them.
Maybe Joseph felt so, too, because his smile broadened as he looked at her. He put his arms around her shoulders, pulling her gently into his embrace. Naomi rested her head against the muscled strength of his chest, hearing the thud of his heart beating calmly, steadily on.
“You know,” his voice rumbled under her cheek. “You were right. This old barn would make a wunderbaar woodworking shop. When your operation is over and you are well again, we will see to it. Together.”
He sounded determined. Naomi closed her eyes, inhaling the sharp scent of pine shavings that always clung to Joseph. Fresh starts, how she loved them. Even if, in the end, they didn’t always turn out the way you would hope.
“Ja,” she whispered against his shirt. “We will fix it up, you and I.”
If Gott wills it.
That part she didn’t say aloud, but the silent truth hung between them in the air, just the same.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Two weeks later, Joseph shifted his long legs in the front seat of the ridiculously small car, wishing he could crack open a window. Being as how the temperature outside was hovering above freezing, and that it was spattering rain, he’d best not. Still, he didn’t much care for being in such close quarters with an Englischer.
Especially this one.
He shot a wary look at Naomi’s friend Eric, who was driving down the highway toward the hospital, darting in and out of traffic like a hummingbird. When Eric glanced back at him, Joseph dropped his gaze to the papers in his lap.
Naomi had explained about her history with this man, how she’d become gut friends with his sister, who’d also suffered from heart trouble. From what she’d said, this Eric had cared faithfully for his ailing sister, and that was to his credit. Still, the man was a reporter, and Joseph intended to keep his distance—as best he could anyway.
They’d barely spoken since Eric had picked him up twenty minutes ago, and their silence was strained. Joseph would rather not have called Eric for this ride at all. On their trip to Naomi’s doctor’s appointment last week, they’d used a different driver because Eric’s tiny back seat was too cramped for either of them to ride comfortably. But when Joseph had insisted on meeting with the hospital’s financial department alone, Naomi had promptly suggested Eric.
Joseph knew why. She’d hoped he’d balk at asking the Englisch reporter, opting for his usual driver. Then she’d try again to convince Joseph to let her come along, since there’d be plenty of room.
That’s why he’d decided to suffer through the ride with Eric. It didn’t matter who drove him to the hospital today as long as he got the financing for Naomi’s operation settled. He was prepared to do whatever it took, but Naomi was still fretting over how much this might cost. He’d rather not argue with her at the hospital in front of the Englischers.
She could fuss at him at home all she liked. It would make no difference. He’d gladly give Naomi her own way in everything else from here on, if that’s what it took to keep her happy. But this time, just this once, he was putting his foot down.
He thumbed through the papers for the dozenth time. A letter from the bank, detailing Joseph’s good credit, some tax papers that gave the estimated value of the farm, a letter from Isaac about his and Naomi’s reinstated engagement, just in case there was any question of Joseph’s right to assume the responsibility for the costs.
He lingered over that paper, written in Isaac’s careful hand, stating that Joseph and Naomi would be married after her operation, if Gott spared her. He drew in a deep breath and leaned against the high back of the seat.
At the doctor’s appointments, he’d listened closely as the cardiologist expl
ained the test results and the treatment plan. Joseph didn’t understand all the details, but apparently this was a routine but complicated surgery, made trickier by Naomi’s previous heart problems. The doctor would make no guarantees for the success of the operation, but he’d been awful quick to make a grim guarantee if Naomi didn’t have it.
That had settled the matter in Joseph’s mind, but Naomi had taken longer to agree, worried about both the cost and the possibility of being permanently disabled.
All Joseph wanted was for Naomi to survive. If her health remained poor after the operation, they’d deal with it together, as man and wife.
Joseph had kept an eye on Naomi as they talked it all through. She said all the right things, but he’d seen little, telling hesitations that worried him.
He knew Naomi loved him. He recognized it in her face, saw his own love for her mirrored back to him whenever she glanced his way. But he also knew that, in spite of everything he’d said, she struggled with the fear of being a burden to him, of not being able to work alongside him or bear him children. If this operation left her ailing, he was going to have his work cut out getting her to go through with their wedding.
He sighed.
“You all right over there?” Eric tossed the question in an offhand way, as a boy might throw a ball to a newcomer in the schoolyard, seeing if the stranger was willing to play.
“Ja, I am fine,” Joseph responded stiffly, adding belatedly, “Thank you.”
“You seem kind of tense. I’m not making you nervous driving this fast, am I?”
Joseph lifted an eyebrow. Nervous? This Englischer had never held the reins of a spooky horse while an eighteen-wheeler blew by on a two-lane country road. It took more than fast driving to make Joseph nervous. “Nee. You’re driving well enough.”
Eric drummed his fingers on the steering wheel for a few seconds before speaking again. “Look, if you’re waiting for me to apologize for flagging you down that day and telling you off, you’re wasting your time. I’m sorry you’re mad, but I’m not sorry Naomi’s getting the medical attention she needs.”
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