Naomi's Hope Read online

  Naomi returned his wave. But if he heard the rumors, would he be so quick to smile like that?

  3

  Memmi, take this.”

  Annalise Yoder wrung water out of her cleaning rag and laid it next to the basin on the kitchen table. Saturday chores could wait. Finding out what three-year-old Gideon was offering her this time was more important. He stood with his feet planted on the threshold, a wilted dandelion in his hand.

  “Dear one, liebchen, you brought a flower for me?” She lowered her work-weary body onto the bench next to the door and reached for the flower.

  Gideon opened his hand, letting the yellow-and-green mess tumble into her palm. “What is it, Memmi? What is it?”

  “It’s a dandelion. A spring flower.”

  His face, pink from playing in the late April sunshine, frowned. “Do we eat it?”

  Annalise brushed a bit of dried mud from his cheek. “Ja, for sure. Ask William to help you find more. You and Rachael can fill a milk pail full of them and we’ll have them with our supper tonight.”

  As Gideon stared at the dandelion, Annalise could almost see him trying to understand.

  “But it’s dirty.” He looked up into her eyes. “Do we eat the dirt too?”

  She smiled into his earnest face. Cobalt eyes surrounded by blond curls tugged at her heart. Both he and his twin, Rachael, looked so much like Liesbet. Poor, lost Liesbet.

  “Ne, little one, we don’t eat the dirt. I will wash them before I cook them.”

  “I go find William.”

  The little boy was out the door and gone before his sentence was finished, but Annalise kept her seat on the bench. Ach, what a pleasure to sit for a few minutes!

  But no longer than a few minutes. She laid the wilted dandelion on the dry sink and rinsed her hands in the wash water. Dandelion greens would taste good with supper tonight. Christian had been tired and grumpy the last few months. Perhaps the tonic would help him feel better.

  As she took the basin of water to the garden, she paused in the sunshine, turning her face toward the sky with her eyes closed. A beautiful day. Another beautiful day. Annalise threw the water over the garden in a sparkling arc, then shook the last drops over the row of green lettuce shoots at her feet.

  A sound from the barn drew her attention. The thump was followed by a bang, and then a shout from Christian. She hurried to the barn door.

  “Are you all right? What has happened?”

  Christian glared at her from the horse’s stall, his face shadowed in the dusky interior. The animals were all in the pastures and Christian had been cleaning out the old bedding.

  “I banged my elbow on the side of the stall.” His voice was harsh. Impatient. So unlike her husband, yet she had grown used to his moods over the winter.

  “You should have Peter help you with this chore.”

  He rubbed at his elbow. “Peter is busy grubbing shoots in the upper field.”

  “Then William.”

  “William is too young. He’d just make a mess.”

  Annalise looked at the dirt floor, covered with clumps of soiled straw in Christian’s path from the stall to the manure pile outside. She didn’t see how William helping his daed would increase the mess but didn’t say anything. Christian’s temper was short these days.

  “If you’re sure you’re all right, I’ll go back to the house.”

  “Ja, I’m sure.” Christian’s voice was a growl as he turned his back on her and gathered another forkful of straw from the stall.

  Annalise headed across the grassy yard. William and the twins had found a milk pail and were hunting for dandelion leaves among the scattered tree stumps. Rachael waved to her, a clump of greens in her hand, then stooped to gather more leaves. For sure those leaves would need much sorting before she cooked them, but the children were busy and happy, and she had an hour or so to spend at her loom.

  Christian had built an additional room onto the simple log house last year before he had sided the cabin with boards, and she had finally been able to set her loom up again. The room matched the one she had left behind in Lancaster County, with windows on three sides. Christian had brought the glass all the way from Fort Wayne to surprise her last spring, after trading furs from the foxes and mink he had trapped over the winter. Annalise smiled at the memory. She had scolded him for buying such a luxury, but with the windows she could still have sunlight all winter long, watch the leaves open on the trees as summer approached, and keep an eye on the children in the yard while she worked.

  Sitting at the loom, she stretched to send the shuttle on its way between the threads, picking up where she had stopped yesterday. When she paused to shift the weaving to the next length of threads, she glanced out the window. The children had abandoned the milk pail and were playing tag between the stumps. Their laughing faces made her eyes prick, remembering another time and other children. God had been so good to restore their family after so much loss.

  A roaring shout from Christian stopped the children in their play. All three of them froze, staring toward the barn as Annalise ran to the door. Christian stood on the threshold of the big barn.

  “William,” he shouted, his face red. “Aren’t you supposed to be working? Get back to the chore your mamm gave you.”

  Annalise glanced at William. The six-year-old’s head hung down, his shoulders quivering, but Christian wasn’t done.

  “Gideon, you help him. Stop running about like a bunch of chickens.”

  “Christian—” Annalise held a hand out toward him. This was wrong, and nothing like the Christian she knew.

  “Don’t interrupt, Annalise.” He shouted the words, then rubbed at his forehead with one hand. “I know what I’m doing.”

  Annalise walked toward him, making sure her path kept her between Christian and the children.

  “Something is wrong,” she said, her voice low as she drew close to her husband. “Do you feel all right?”

  Christian shook his head, pushing his hat up and rubbing his forehead again. “I’m fine. My head hurts, but I’m fine.”

  He jerked away as she reached for his arm.

  “Maybe you should come in and lie down until your headache goes away. I’ll brew some dandelion tea for you.”

  He leaned against the doorframe, his hand over his eyes and his shoulders slumped. He stood without moving for a long minute. Two minutes. Then he sighed. “I don’t know why I shouted at the children.” He looked at her. “I’m sorry, Annalise. I was angry with you too.”

  “Come in and rest.”

  “Who will finish the work, then?” Christian stood upright again and reached for the manure fork. “I have to clean out the barn.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He smiled and ran a finger down her cheek. “Ja, dear one. I’m sure.”

  Christian turned to go back to the stall, but Annalise lingered, watching him. He wasn’t all right. This was the third time his anger had flared so suddenly in the last few weeks, anger that Christian had never shown before. He had no fever, and the spells left him as quickly as they came. Something was wrong, but she had never run across anything like this in her experience.

  She started back to the house. William and Gideon were on their knees, silently picking dandelion greens and filling the bucket. Rachael sat on a stump, crying. Annalise took Rachael in her arms, patting her back.

  “Your father isn’t feeling well.”

  William scowled at her. “He yelled at us.”

  She nodded. “Ja, he did, and he’s sorry.”

  Gideon watched as William sat back on his heels. “We weren’t doing anything wrong. We were just playing.”

  “Was the pail filled?”

  William’s face turned red. “Ne, but almost.”

  “ ‘Almost’ means your chore wasn’t done. When the chores are done, then you can play.”

  “What if Daed yells at us again, even if the chores are done?”

  Annalise sighed as she sat on the stump. Gideon
climbed onto her lap along with Rachael and she circled both of them in her arms. William was right. Christian’s moods had become unpredictable.

  “I don’t know what to tell you, William.” Annalise smiled at her son to reassure him. “When Daed feels better again, he’ll be back to his own self. Until then, perhaps you should play on the other side of the house.”

  “I’ll help Peter when I’m done here.”

  Annalise nodded. “That’s a good idea. I’m sure Peter will appreciate your help.” She squeezed Gideon and Rachael. “I think you two are ready for a nap.”

  Rachael was already half asleep, her thumb in her mouth. Gideon had been leaning against her but pushed himself up at the mention of a nap.

  “I want to help Peter too,” he said.

  Annalise put Gideon down and stood, holding Rachael. She took Gideon’s hand. “Not right now. I saw you yawning. Let’s go inside.”

  As she took the twins into the house, Annalise looked toward the barn once more. Something was wrong with Christian, and with that worry she could feel the pulsing darkness at the edge of her consciousness. She pushed it back. A spring tonic was what he needed. The dandelion greens would help him get back to normal.

  Cap eyed the sun peering through the tree branches on the west side of the clearing. Saturday afternoon was nearly over, but he still had enough time to finish chinking the last cabin wall before darkness descended.

  He stuck the wooden slat in the pail of mud and clay, lifting it carefully to the opening between the two logs next to his knees. He had wedged some small stones and pieces of wood in the narrow opening before plastering it over with the clay. Eli Schrock had shown him how to mix moss and ground limestone into the clay to help make it stronger. The result should be a waterproof barrier that would make the cabin cozy in the winter months.

  As he spread the chinking, his mind wandered in the direction that it had often taken this week. Thoughts of Naomi and Davey came up as he worked on finishing the cabin, or as he cooked his meals, or while he was fishing or planting the seeds for his garden among the stumps that littered the clearing. He found himself wondering if Naomi liked peas fresh or in a winter soup. Or if Davey would want to go fishing with him.

  More times than he wanted to admit, Cap had needed to pull himself back to his work instead of staring blankly at the deer trail through the woods that led to the Schrocks’ farm.

  There was no reason he should be thinking of Naomi so much, except for that intriguing tilt of her head when she was listening to a conversation among the women, or when she was deep in thought. And the expression on her face whenever Davey came into view.

  He swallowed down the lump that had risen in his throat and turned back to chinking the logs again. That expression reminded him of Martha.

  Cap pushed a wad of mud and straw into the gap where a knot kept the logs from fitting together.

  Too much about Naomi reminded him of Martha. That coincidence was enough to tell him that he shouldn’t be more than friends with his neighbor, no matter how much he loved spending time with her son. He would like to find a new wife, but not just a replacement for his first love. That wouldn’t be fair to Naomi. She deserved a husband who could love her for who she was.

  “Cap!” Davey’s shout came ringing down the deer trail and the boy burst out of the leafy underbrush. “Cap, are you here?”

  “What is it?”

  Davey halted beside him, but his attention was captured by the bucket of sticky mud and straw. He pulled at the stick Cap had used to stir the mess.

  “Can I?” He looked into Cap’s eyes, his face full of hope. “Can I help you? I can stir the mud.”

  Cap grinned and pulled at the blond hair sticking out from under Davey’s hat. How could he refuse such an offer?

  “For sure. The mud is stirred enough, but you can slap some right here, and I’ll chink it into the logs. That would be a fine help.”

  They worked together until they finished the length of the wall, Davey silent for once, except for his grunts when he lifted the paddle loaded with the heavy mess up to the spots Cap indicated.

  “That’s fun,” Davey said. “Can we do another one?”

  Cap looked toward the setting sun. “I’m done for today. It’s nearly suppertime. Won’t your mamm be looking for you?”

  “She knows I’m here.” Davey’s voice was confident. “She sent me to—” He looked toward Cap, his eyes round. “I forgot. I was supposed to ask you to come to dinner tomorrow. Grossmutti is making rye’n’corn bread, and there’s a ham baking in the oven. Say you will.”

  The next day was an off Sunday, when the church wouldn’t meet for services but the Sabbath was still observed. Cap would not work tomorrow, and the thought of spending his time in the company of his neighbors made his answer easy.

  “Ja, for sure I will.” He stooped down to look at Davey’s face. “Say ‘denki’ to your mamm and grossmutti. I would be glad to come.”

  Davey’s grin burst onto his face and he took off running toward the deer trail. “See you tomorrow,” he yelled.

  “Tomorrow,” Cap repeated, but Davey was too far away to hear.

  The warmth that Davey brought with him stayed with Cap while he cleaned up from the day’s work and ate a light supper of cold ham and bread. The food was the last of the leftovers from Thursday’s house raising, and he chewed each bite with thankfulness. So far, the decision to move to Indiana had been a good one. The Amish settlement was all he had hoped it would be, and the neighbors had welcomed him with open arms. He had been here for just over a week, and he already had a house built with the help of the community and his first crops planted in the fertile ground around the stumps in the clearing.

  And then there was Naomi. He couldn’t deny that the thought of seeing her the next day had put a smile on his face that wouldn’t go away. Was it so bad that she reminded him of Martha? As he learned to know her better, that feeling would fade. She was a lovely woman, and dedicated to Davey.

  That thought brought a ribbon of regret with it. He should trust Eli’s story of the boy’s adoption, so why did this suspicion still linger? The story must be true. After all, Davey didn’t look very much like his mother. In fact, Cap couldn’t see any resemblance.

  He rubbed at his beard as he leaned back against the wagon wheel and stuck his long legs toward the fire that had dwindled to coals. Darkness had descended while he ate his supper, and he should make his way into the house. He had made a bed for himself in one corner so he could sleep under a roof at night, but he still had a lot of details to finish before the house felt like home. Meanwhile, resting under the stars on a pleasant evening was something he would miss after weeks living out of his wagon. He laced his fingers behind his head and looked up at the sky.

  Naomi pushed her way into his thoughts again, along with that unanswered question. What would he do if he found out that Naomi’s son had been conceived in sin? Would that make a difference in how he felt about her? The stars blurred together. He wouldn’t know until he faced that possibility head-on. He had to ask Naomi about Davey soon. Tomorrow, even.

  If he could find a time to talk to her when Davey wasn’t around.

  Naomi hurried through her chores on Sunday morning, saving the flock of chickens for last. She spread their feed on the ground in front of the chicken coop door, then opened the hatch and waited for the chickens to make their way out. The rooster was first, flapping his way to the roof to crow over his domain before joining the hens for his portion of the cracked corn. His wives followed him down the cleated plank, but they ignored his crowing, pushing at each other for their share of the corn. Soon she would add this chore to Davey’s growing list. He was old enough now to take full responsibility for the chickens.

  Naomi fastened the little hatch open, then went into the coop through the door on the end. The shadowed, dusty henhouse always made her sneeze, but it took only a few minutes to gather the eggs. She went along the row of nest boxes, reaching in fo
r the smooth eggs, still warm from the hens’ bodies. When she reached the last box, the hen was still on her nest.

  “Ach, Biddie. You need to go out with the others.” Naomi reached in to push the chicken out, but Biddie pecked at her. Trying a different tactic, Naomi set the egg basket at her feet. “Biddie bird, Biddie bird.” She kept her voice soft, crooning. The hen cocked its head to the side. Naomi kept crooning to the bird as she slid her hand under the hen’s body and grasped the egg.

  Biddie squawked and launched herself out of the nest box, landing square on the front of Naomi’s clean apron, then flapped to the ground and out the door. Naomi laid the egg in the basket with the others and brushed at her apron, only to feel the wet, soiled straw the hen had smeared on her clothes. And Cap was coming today.

  She fastened the door behind her and made her way to the house.

  Mattie met her at the kitchen door. She and Jacob had come to spend Sunday with the family. “What happened to you?”

  Naomi handed her the basket. “Biddie didn’t like it when I tried to take her egg. I think she’s getting broody.”

  “Biddie is always broody. Come on, I’ll help you change.”

  Naomi led the way to her room, an addition to the log cabin Daed and Henry had built for her. The two bedrooms on either end of the house were for herself and her parents, while Henry and Davey shared the loft. Naomi closed the door behind her sister and reached to untie her soiled apron.

  “I’ll have to wear my old one today.” Naomi held up the apron, neatly patched on one side where she had torn it last fall.

  “That’s all right.” Mattie took a seat on her bed. “You’ll look fine. Besides, it’s only the family today, isn’t it?”

  Naomi’s throat felt as dry as if she was eating stale cornbread.

  “Isn’t it?” Mattie asked again.

  “Cap is coming for dinner.”

  Mattie started laughing and then clapped a hand over her mouth.