by Marta Perry
“Denke.” She leaned heavily on his arm as she sank into her place. “How did you know I’d be needing a ride?”
Noah gave an annoyed glance at the car behind, whose driver was honking impatiently. He deliberately, she thought, took an extra moment to disengage the brake and pick up the lines. Once they were clear of the portico by the front doors, he turned to her.
“Jamison called the shop and asked if Jessie could get someone to pick you up as he had to leave. Since she was single-handed, she couldn’t get away without closing, so she asked me to pick you up.”
* * *
“SHE ASKED YOU to pick me up?” That was unusual, to say the least. Aunt Jessie didn’t like to ask anyone for help.
“Surprising, isn’t it?” His slight smile teased her.
“I didn’t mean it that way,” she said. “And you know it. She just doesn’t like to ask for help. But I’m very glad she did. I couldn’t have walked back. But weren’t you single-handed?”
“Caleb wanted to come in today,” he explained.
“Caleb always wants to come in, doesn’t he?” She remembered the teenager’s expression when he’d returned from his jaunt down the street.
“Pretty much.” He hesitated. “Mamm had a little talk with Aaron. She pointed out what I had, that Caleb’s interested in working at the store and Aaron has Joshua to help on the farm. It’s the same thing I told him, but he listened when Mamm said it.”
Joanna managed a smile. “My bruders are the same. They don’t dare accept advice from an older sibling, I guess.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes, stopped behind a traffic light on a busy Saturday morning. Once they were moving, Noah shot a glance at her.
“Don’t talk unless you feel like it. You look as if you should go back to bed.”
“I suspected I looked pretty bad. But go on with what you were saying. It’s no trouble to listen.”
He gave a soft chuckle. “Not if you go to sleep. But I meant to tell you, speaking of bruders, that yours was in this morning right when we opened.”
“Which one?” she asked, surprised she hadn’t seen him in town. Still, Aunt Jessie had obviously let her sleep until the chief put an end to it.
“Isaac, the middle one. He had a long list from your father of things he said he needed.” He looked at her again. “Did you have anything to do with that?”
She shook her head and regretted it, touching her neck carefully. “I didn’t—well, maybe I mentioned something to Daad that you hadn’t had many customers from the Leit recently. It upset me.”
“Maybe that’s it. Sorry. I shouldn’t ask you questions when you need to rest.”
She did, and the thought of her soft bed called out to her. But...
“I did want to tell you what happened this morning. A cousin of Meredith’s came and identified her. A distant cousin, I’d guess,” she added, remembering the man’s lack of caring.
“You act as if you didn’t like him.”
“I shouldn’t judge him, I know. But all he could think about was getting back to his business, not about her at all. But he didn’t get it all his way. Chief Jamison refused to let him take her back to the city.”
“I’d think he’d want her safely out of his charge.”
“He said the doctors wouldn’t okay it, and I suppose that’s a good reason.” She thought about the chief’s attitude. “But he also said she couldn’t leave as long as he was still investigating.”
“I thought all he was doing was trying to find out who she was.” They’d passed the bank, and the quilt shop was in the next block, but there was little traffic and he slowed, probably wanting to hear the answer.
“Yah, that’s what I thought. But after the attack on her last night... Well, maybe he’s not satisfied.” She paused, hoping that investigating he talked of wouldn’t lead him anywhere near her parents. “I guess you’re disappointed. You wanted her to go, didn’t you?”
She felt him glance at her.
“If I did,” he said carefully, “it was only because I wanted to spare you all this trouble and let things get back to normal.”
Her emotions, still balanced on a thin edge, wobbled dangerously. “Normal—I’m starting to hate that word. How can I go back to normal with all the unanswered questions? Surely, any adopted person would want to know something, at least, about her birth parents. Especially for an Amish person, given how important the family tree is to us. It’s part of who we are and how we fit into the community.”
Noah turned into the alley beside the shop and drew to a halt beside the sidewalk. He reached across the seat to envelop her hand in a warm, supportive grip. Friendly...and something more.
“Then that’s what I want for you, as well.” But he sounded almost afraid of the answer she might find. “I’ll help you down.”
He was around the buggy before she could say it wasn’t necessary, and when she felt his strong arm supporting her down, she was just as glad to have it to hang on to. Without speaking, he kept his hand under her elbow, helping her to the sidewalk.
“Rest for the remainder of the day if you can,” he said again. “Don’t forget it’s worship tomorrow. The first preparation service for communion.”
At the thought of all the next day entailed, Joanna wanted to stay in bed. She could only hope she’d be able to disguise her bruises from curious eyes.
Noah opened the door for her, but before she could turn to thank him, there was a flurry of steps and then her mother’s warm arms wrapped about her. Joanna’s tension released. Even if she didn’t know who her birth mother was, when she was with Mamm, she was home.
“My poor little girl,” she murmured, almost sending Joanna into tears again. “Why did you think you had to go through this alone?”
“She wasn’t alone.” Aunt Jessie sounded as if this discussion had been going on for some time. “I took care of her just fine.”
“You’re not her mother,” Mamm said, unanswerably. “I’m here now, and I’ll take care of her.”
Patting Joanna as if she were about six and crying over a scraped knee, her mother led her to the stairs.
“We’ll put some ice on that sore neck, and some herbal tea will soothe your throat. And then it’s off to sleep with you. Don’t worry, I’ll be here when you wake up.”
Joanna was torn between laughter and tears. Maybe they’d been wrong to try so hard to protect Mamm.
One thing was certain for the moment. The chasm that she’d seen so clearly between them had disappeared, at least for now.
* * *
WORSHIP THE NEXT morning was at the King farm, and Noah was out early with his mother and the two youngest boys, while Aaron and Lovina followed in the smaller buggy. They arrived in plenty of time, pulling into the lane in a stream of slowly moving buggies. As they reached the back door of the farmhouse, boys came running to take the horses and buggies, leaving them free to find the lineup for worship.
The King family had recently completed refinishing their large basement, so everyone would fit comfortably inside. Just as well, as clouds were gathering in the west, and the wind had begun to whip down the valley.
Folks were gathered at the sheltered side of the house, talking quietly as they separated, women, girls and young children to one side, men and boys to the other. He joined his brothers and tried to pretend that he wasn’t scanning the other side for Joanna.
It was natural to want to see how she was this morning. After all, she was a friend as well as a neighbor, and he knew how difficult the past few days had been for her. There was nothing more to it than that.
But he didn’t believe his own words. His feelings for Joanna were far more complicated than friendship. Knowing that didn’t make it any easier. If only he could get rid of the deep fear of what he might have inherited from his father. Unless he could, it put marriage out
of the question for him forever.
Aaron nudged him. “You can’t go to sleep out here. At least wait until you’re settled on one of the back benches.”
“I’m awake.”
He smiled back at his brother’s good humor. Somehow, since Mamm had talked to him, Aaron had lost some of his prickliness. As Caleb had muttered a few days ago, if marriage made you that cranky, he didn’t know why anyone wanted to marry. Maybe that message had gotten through to Aaron.
Despite his efforts, Noah didn’t get a good look at Joanna until the moment when the women’s line started to move. It looked as if the other women had clustered close around her, maybe to keep others from gawking and wondering.
She looked better, he thought, although the dark bruises against her fair skin had him wanting to smash something. Then they’d gone through the bulkhead doors to the cellar, each one pausing to shake hands with one of the ministers, and she was out of sight.
The worship service moved on its usual way, with a little added gravity as the Leit prepared for October communion. Noah settled himself on the backless bench, knowing it would become harder during the three-hour service. Maybe Joanna should have stayed home rather than attempt the service, but he could imagine her reaction to that suggestion.
Rain began to patter on the cellar doors, its rhythmic sound making it a challenge to those who were fighting sleepiness. Noah frowned toward his two youngest brothers, seated near the front on the men’s side with the rest of the boys their age. If their heads started to nod, Mamm would be mortified, but they both looked fairly alert.
Since today was the first of the five Sundays leading up to Fall Communion, everyone knew that the service would be centered on the Nicodemus story of being born again. New Birth Sunday, it was called, and folks took it seriously as part of the preparation for communion.
The bishop began the long sermon predictably, talking about the importance of forgiveness and harmony in the church. The words struck Noah in a way that surprised him. How much was Bishop Paul struggling with that himself just now? He was suddenly ashamed that he hadn’t thought more of the pain recent events must be causing Joanna’s father. Both as a father and as a bishop, he had to be torn, his heart battered by events he couldn’t control.
He didn’t recall ever feeling sorry for the man before, but he did now, and it shook him. Maybe he’d become too comfortable with the opinions he’d formed as a boy. He was a man now, and he should be understanding that way.
These thoughts were so intense that he almost didn’t notice when the bishop veered into new territory, quoting the injunction to the faithful to do good to all, but especially those of the household of faith.
“We have all been taught to do good to our brothers and sisters in the faith. We know that means supporting them in every way, whether it’s taking food when someone is sick or tending their animals or helping to raise a barn. But it also means supporting each other by taking our business to Amish-owned stores and services, for that is doing good to them.”
Bishop Paul took a long moment to study the faces of his people as if weighing and measuring their understanding. Suddenly, a quiver of awareness went through Noah. People were sending covert, shamed glances at him—gazes that dropped abruptly when he looked.
The bishop was talking about him. Or if he wasn’t, people were taking it that way. He had a sudden desire to slide under the bench, but he knew better. His only choice was to sit here and pretend that he had no idea that the bishop was referring to the way even his Amish customers had stayed away recently.
Had Joanna known that her father was going to do this? He didn’t dare look at her in an attempt to read her expression. If she’d known...
His first instinct was to be annoyed, to rebel against the idea that he couldn’t make a success of the store on his own. And he knew what the bishop would say to that. The same thing his mother—or any of the older people—would say. That he was prideful. That he thought too much of himself and not enough of others.
Warmth crept up under his skin, and he set his gaze firmly on his feet and kept it there until the end of the service.
A bustle of activity burst forth as the men started turning some of the benches into tables for the traditional lunch. He watched helplessly while Joanna went up to the kitchen to help. Would he never have a chance to speak to her? If she had known what her father intended to do... He wasn’t sure how that sentence was supposed to end, but he’d like to believe she’d have warned him.
Finally, the tables and benches were ready. As food started to flow down the steps, Noah ducked his way around the women and went up, trying to look as if he had some purpose. Several women were still in the kitchen, stirring bowls of the sweet peanut butter and marshmallow spread that rewarded the taste buds after three hours of restraint. The oldest King daughter, probably a little shy at being allowed to help, was urging her mother to taste-test the bowl she was mixing.
Joanna wasn’t there, and he hadn’t seen her go back downstairs. He slipped past the kitchen before he could be asked to taste-test anything, and went down the hall. A pantry opened up on his right, and Joanna stood with her back to him, reaching up to a high shelf.
“Is it this one, Leah?” she asked, not turning around.
“I’m not Leah King, but I’ll lift it down for you.”
That wasn’t what he’d intended to say. He’d meant to ask if she’d put her father up to mentioning his situation, but somehow the sight of her scrambled his intentions.
His tongue, as well as his thoughts, had gotten out of his control. Having that happen once was bad enough, but it was becoming a habit when he was with Joanna.
Joanna swung around, startled by his voice, and the bowl she’d reached for slipped. Noah was just in time to prevent disaster, moving closer to her and catching the bowl in his hands.
“I’ve got it,” he said, suddenly breathless.
Joanna grabbed the bowl, her fingers brushing his, and the touch nearly made him lose his grip.
For a moment the small room was very still. The low murmur of voices from the kitchen formed a background noise, as did the gentle patter of rain against the windowpanes.
Joanna seemed to catch her breath, and he sensed her searching for a response that might sound natural. “You should, since you were the one who made me drop it.”
“If that was meant to be scolding, you didn’t sound annoyed enough.” He looked down into her face, so very close. Whatever his intention had been in seeking her out, it was suspended, lost in the air that seemed to tremble between them.
Think, he ordered himself. You have to get this clear between you. He trusted Joanna, and he didn’t want to believe she’d pushed her father to defend him. It damaged that trust, and made him feel weak.
“Your father was talking about my business this morning,” he said, forcing the words out.
“I...I suppose he was.” The velvety brown of her eyes had golden flecks in it when seen this close, distracting him again.
Annoyed at himself, Noah shook his head. He had to ask the question. “Did you put him up to that?”
Neither of them had moved, but the air froze between them, and they were farther apart. Joanna’s eyes cooled, her face growing taut.
“I did not. My father doesn’t ask me for advice about his sermons. And if he did, it wouldn’t be your concern.” Beneath the snap in her voice, he thought he heard disappointment. In him.
“I didn’t mean...” But he had, so how could he deny it? He was doing this all wrong, and he was angry with himself. He knew, only too well, that his defensiveness had become a pattern. But not with Joanna.
Before he could come up with an apology, voices sounded in the hall.
“Joanna, my mammi says, did you find...” The question died as two young girls stared at them, wide-eyed, clearly aware of having interrupted something. Then, not wa
iting for an answer, they departed, giggling.
“I have to take this bowl out.” Not meeting his eyes, Joanna held the bowl like a shield in front of her and moved around him.
“Wait, Joanna. I didn’t mean it that way. I’m sorry.” But he found he was talking to the empty air, and he had a strong desire to knock his head against the nearest shelf.
* * *
JOANNA WAS BACK at work on Monday, the bruises a little less visible and feeling more like herself. She paused to look out the front window at the street, now shining in the sunlight and looking newly washed after yesterday’s rain. She heard movement behind her and hurried to help her aunt with the quilt frame they’d have to set up for her quilting class.
When she grabbed one end of the frame, her aunt gave her a questioning look. “You sure you want to help with this?” Aunt Jessie sounded concerned. “I can manage.”
“I’m fine now, Aunt Jessie. You don’t have to baby me.”
Her aunt nodded, accepting, and together they dragged the heavy frame to the spot under the windows they’d chosen. She grabbed one end of the frame and swung it into place.
“It’s a shame we don’t have space to leave it up all the time.”
But no matter how many ways they figured it, that just couldn’t be done. Everything in the shop contributed to their income and was necessary.
“Well, never mind. We’ll see how this group takes to quilting. I thought they’d never get the top pieced together, slow as they were.”
Aunt Jessie had been less than impressed at this particular class’s abilities, and while she had endless patience with them, she always had to let off steam afterward.
“They were beginners,” Joanna reminded her. “Some of them hardly knew how to thread a needle when they started and look at them now.”
“Yah, look at them.” Aunt Jessie gestured as if they were already there, sounding skeptical. “If Jenny Lee Moore doesn’t sew her skirt to the quilt backing, I’ll be surprised.”
