The three women headed for the rocking chairs on the porch.
“Can I get you some ice tea?” Lois asked.
“Sounds gut,” Mary said, nodding.
Naomi agreed, settling back into one of the rockers to wait for the bishop as Lois disappeared into the house. Within minutes, Lois had returned with a tray holding a pitcher and four glasses of ice tea. And not long after that, Bishop appeared, wiping his hands down his trousers and taking off his straw hat.
“Good morning, ladies” he said. For such a wiry man, his voice was surprisingly strong and resonant. He mounted the steps and sank with a sigh into the empty rocker. Mary and Naomi both returned his greeting.
Lois handed him a glass of tea, and he gulped it down, placing his empty glass back on the tray. “What can I do for you, Mary?”
Mary leaned forward in her chair. “It’s nothing for me, Bishop. It’s for Naomi.” She nodded at Naomi.
Before Mary could continue, Bishop clucked his tongue and regarded Naomi. “I’m glad you’re here, Naomi. I was planning to talk with you later, myself.”
Naomi’s throat tightened. So he’d heard, too. She pressed her lips together.
“So what’s this I hear about you entertaining Englisch guests?”
“That’s why we’re here. What Naomi’s doing is—” Mary interjected quickly, but Naomi put her hand on Mary’s arm, stopping her narrative.
“Bishop, I want to apologize for not seeking your guidance in the first place,” Naomi said, her tone both contrite and confident. “I never intended to go over your head. You must know that I’m struggling with my finances—”
Lois gave a sharp intake of breath, and Bishop tossed her a censuring look.
“Anyway, I thought that if I opened a Bed and Breakfast, it would be a way to stay in Hollybrook. A way that I could make money.”
“Doesn’t Zachariah King lease your land?” Bishop asked.
“Jah, he does. But it’s not enough. There’s a mortgage.”
“The district has funds,” Bishop explained, a kind look on his face. “Those funds are to help our people who need it. Now, for medical emergencies, we often can cover the full cost.”
Naomi nodded. “I know that, and I think it’s a blessing. But, Bishop, this isn’t a one-time expense. I need ongoing money to take care of my family.”
“But Zachariah—” Lois began, but her husband interrupted her.
“I understand. So what you’re asking for is a blessing to open a Bed and Breakfast.”
“Jah.”
“Are you planning to have electricity?”
Naomi swallowed. “Nee. Not at this point.”
He nodded and his damp brown hair stuck to his forehead in clumps. “A phone?”
“That might be necessary.”
“It wouldn’t be the first phone in the district used for business,” he said.
Naomi smiled. She’d been right—he was going to agree, she knew it. “Is it all right, then?”
He tugged on his long beard and regarded her. “I believe that God has given you this opportunity. And we’re grateful you want to stay in Hollybrook.”
Naomi’s breath gushed out. “Thank you, Bishop. Thank you.”
Mary gave a single clap and beamed as if she’d personally brought it all about.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to the fields.” Bishop looked at his wife. “Send Amos back out, would you, Lois? I’ll be needing him.”
Lois agreed, and the bishop took his leave.
Naomi smiled at her two friends in relief. Mary gave her arm a squeeze. “See, Naomi? It’s all working out fine.”
Lois stood and picked up the pitcher of tea. She topped off both Naomi’s and Mary’s glasses. “So, how are you finding Zachariah?” she asked, looking directly at Naomi.
Naomi squirmed. “What do you mean?”
“How do you find him?”
“He’s nice,” Naomi answered, wondering just where this conversation was heading. “And he’s responsible.”
Lois sat down in her chair and adjusted her apron over her dress. “I’ve always liked that young man. He’s got a lot of promise, that one.”
Naomi nodded, growing suspicious of the woman’s motivation.
“He’ll make someone a mighty good husband,” Lois continued.
And there it was… Mary must have sensed Naomi’s discomfort because she took another sip of tea and stood. “We should get going, Lois. Thank you so much for the tea.”
Naomi jumped up, too, and handed her glass to Lois. “Jah, thank you for the tea.”
Lois blinked, looking disgruntled to have her conversation cut short. “Y-You’re welcome. And do come again. Anytime at all.”
Mary bustled Naomi down the steps. They climbed into the cart and with a wave, were on their way within minutes.
“See there, Naomi,” Mary said, nudging her friend as they reached the main road. “We have a very reasonable bishop in our district. He’s well-loved, all right.”
“I can see why.”
“And Lois was right, you know,” Mary continued. “Zachariah King is a fine man. Someday, I’ll tell you his story.”
Naomi’s brow rose. “His story?”
Mary nodded and clicked her tongue at her pony, urging her on.
Zachariah’s story. Naomi surprised herself by how much she wanted to hear it. Truth be told, she had more than a passing interest in Zachariah’s story.
But not now. Now, she wanted to revel in the new feeling of hope that bubbled within her. She wanted to revel in the absence of pain and grief, however temporary it might be. She wanted to revel in the knowledge that the bishop had approved her plan.
She would hear Zachariah’s story. But later.
She closed her eyes and let the hot morning sun bathe her face. The feeling of peace that had filled her in the cart ride over, remained. She breathed deeply and thanked God for her fledgling Bed and Breakfast. She thanked God for Mary and the sun and the healing that was coming to her and her children.
She opened her eyes and looked up to the clouds with a smile that was deep and beautiful. She was full to overflowing with anticipation for the future. She had a new business and new hope. For the first time in a very long time, Naomi believed that everything was going to be all right.
The End
Amish Days
The Englischer Stayed Twice
An Amish Romance Short Story
by Brenda Maxfield
Copyright © 2016 Tica House Publishing LLC All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means, including scanning, photocopying, or otherwise without prior written permission of the copyright holder.
One
Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness.
Isaiah 41:10 (King James Version)
Naomi Byler stood over the single bed in the second bedroom of the daadi haus. Lying on the orange, white, and blue quilt was a folded piece of paper. She stared at it for a long moment before picking it up.
Dear Naomi…
She sank to the bed, and her hands trembled as she continued reading.
I can’t begin to explain what these last five days have meant to me. Being here, your very first Bed and Breakfast guest, getting to know you and your precious children—all of it has been a wonder. My life in Texas is hectic at best, frantic at worst. The deadlines for a journalist come hard and fast. But this assignment was different.
I don’t say these things to garner your sympathy, only to try and explain what staying here has meant…
With a quick move, Naomi refolded the paper and stood. No. She didn’t have time to read the letter right then. Her cheeks burned at the thought, and she knew she was deceiving herself. She had time. Of course, she had time.
But she wanted to avoid the confusing rush of feelings his words
brought forth. Resolutely, she shoved the letter in her pocket and began to strip the bed. The sheets and pillowcase would be washed on Monday, along with the rest of the laundry. He would have left a dirty towel, too. She let the sheets fall onto the braided rug and folded the quilt at the end of the bed. No need to strip the other mattress. Justin Moore had come alone.
She moved into the bathroom and saw his towel hanging neatly over the bar. She pulled it loose, noting it was still damp. She moved back to the bedroom and dropped it on top of the sheets. Then she moved about the small daadi haus, dusting every surface with an old dishtowel. After that, she swept through all the rooms, whether Mr. Moore would have used them or not. Truth be told, the daadi haus wasn’t large and giving it a thorough cleaning never took long.
All that was left was to wash down the tub and clean the toilet. Ten minutes tops. But it took her twelve minutes before she gathered up the laundry, glanced around the house one last time, and left. Outside, she nudged one of the porch rockers with her foot, lining it up precisely with the second rocker. While she had been busy inside, it had begun to sprinkle. She dashed out into it, feeling the light drops of moisture ping on her forehead. Good thing it wasn’t Monday or the laundry would get a second washing with the rain.
She pushed through the side door of the big house and put the laundry into a basket in the washroom.
“Mamm!” called her daughter Katy from the kitchen. “Would you come here?”
Naomi went into the kitchen and saw Katy with her hands in a large glass bowl, pressing bits of dough together.
“What are you making?”
“Pie,” Katy said simply. At eleven years old, the girl had a surprising knack for cooking and baking. “I can’t find the rolling pin.”
“Isn’t it in the lower cupboard where it belongs?” Naomi moved to the cupboard. She pulled open the door and saw the rolling pin’s spot was empty. She stood and put her hands on her hips. “Now, where did it go?”
Katy frowned. “I need it right now.”
“I can see that.” Naomi glanced around the kitchen, seeing nothing out of place.
“I bet Ben took it.”
“What would your brother want with a rolling pin?” Naomi asked with a smile. “That boy doesn’t cook.”
“Who knows what he’s up to?”
Naomi peered through the kitchen window scanning the front yard for her five-year-old son. “I don’t see him. Put the crust dough in the refrigerator. It’ll roll better chilled anyway.”
“But I wanted to have the pie for supper.”
Naomi stepped to her daughter and gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Don’t fret. I’ll find the rolling pin.”
She was glad to go back outside, even in the rain. A strange restlessness moved through her, and she pushed down a sudden urge to run. Where to? She had no idea. What was the matter with her that day? She should be excited. The bishop had approved her request to open a Bed and Breakfast, and she’d made five hundred dollars with her first paying customer.
She should feel joy. And gratitude. And an eagerness to continue developing her new business.
Instead, she felt depression weigh down her shoulders and seep into her heart. Isaac. If he were still alive, what would he think of this new development? Would her late husband be happy for her? She shivered slightly as the rain gathered on her face and dripped down her neck. No. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t want her attention split from the children and her household chores.
I have no choice, she said to herself, and in a way, to him. Leasing the farmland brought in just enough to cover the mortgage but not enough to live on. She had to earn more money.
She stood under the sweeping elm tree in the front yard and leaned against the bark, taking a moment out of the rain. She spotted Zachariah King out in her fields working. Even from such a distance, he cut a fine figure, muscular and sturdy. He was one of the steadiest people she knew, and she was grateful that he wanted to lease her land. It was strange—she really didn’t know that much about him, but he was on her property nearly every day. Not that he spoke with her much. He was a quiet man, despite the amount of laughter she heard when he was with Ben.
A few days before, the two of them had gone frog hunting through the trees in the thicket down the road. Ben had come back splattered in dirt and all smiles. They’d located more than a few tree frogs, and Ben had gleefully announced that he was covered in frog germs. After a quick wash-up and a change of clothes, he was still recounting his adventure with excitement. When Naomi tucked him in after Bible reading that night, the last words on his lips were, “Mr. Zach knows where to find all the frogs…”
“Mamm!” Ben stood just inside the door of the barn and waved at her wildly.
“Benjamin!” Naomi hollered back. “I’ve been looking for you!”
She ran across the yard, her bare feet slipping in patches of mud. She dashed into the barn and wiped her forehead. “Do you have the rolling pin?”
Ben’s face turned red. “Uh oh.”
“Benjamin Byler! What were you thinking? Katy’s in need of it.” Naomi shook her head, suppressing a smile. “Where is it?”
“But Mamm, I needed it, too.” Ben walked to the front corner of the barn. There he’d laid a scrap of plywood. On top of the wood was a pile of grain with the rolling pin sitting beside it.
“What the world are you doing?”
“I was thinking that I could set up a place to feed the frogs. But then I thought maybe the grain was too big or rough for ’em to swallow. So I’m smooshing it with the rolling pin.”
Naomi looked down at her son’s efforts and bit back a chuckle. “Benjamin, I’m thinking frogs don’t eat grain.”
“Horses do.”
“Jah. But frogs don’t. They eat flies and such.”
Ben puckered his lips into a pout. “So I done this for nothin’?”
“You did it for nothing.” Naomi bent down and retrieved the dusty rolling pin. “I think Mr. King needs to give you some more frog lessons.”
“Can he come for supper then?” Ben asked, his face alight.
Naomi sighed. “I’m sure he’s busy. He has his own family.”
As she said it, she realized again how little she knew of Mr. King’s family. She did know he wasn’t married, which in itself was curious. Not many men in their late twenties or early thirties were still single in the district. Having been in Hollybrook for barely a year meant Naomi didn’t know his history, unlike the rest of the folks around, who seemed to know absolutely everything about everyone, even down to the very hairs on their heads.
“Can I ask him?”
Since the accident that had killed her husband and her parents, Naomi hadn’t seen much enthusiasm on Ben’s face. Truth be told, she didn’t want to invite Zach for supper. Somehow, it didn’t seem appropriate. Plus, the man had been acting a bit odd of late. The other day, she’d wondered if he was jealous of her Englisch guest. But now, looking at her son’s face, she was loath to squash his animation.
“Fine. But don’t be surprised when he tells you no,” she said, leaving the barn with the rolling pin in hand.
****
Zachariah King said yes. Naomi had to scramble to set another plate when she saw him coming through the field with Ben jumping about at his side. She shook her head, realizing that Zach had probably only agreed so as not to dampen Ben’s spirits. So she and Zach had that in common then.
“Why’s Mr. Zach coming to dinner?” Katy asked when Naomi told her.
“Because he’s Ben’s friend, and Ben wanted to invite him.”
“Kind of old to be Ben’s friend, don’t you think?” Katy said, never at a loss to offer her judgment on a situation.
“Never you mind, daughter. Just get out another glass and utensils.”
“Mamm!” Ben’s voice echoed through the house. “He’s staying!”
Naomi went to greet them as they came in through the side door. “Mr. King, how nice of you to join us.”
“Ben was right. It is fine. Feel free to wash up. Supper’s almost on the table.” She scurried off, giving him time to clean up. She was surprised at her own nervousness. But then even before Zach’s dislike of the Englischer, Naomi had often felt unsettled around him. She supposed it was because he always seemed ill at ease around her.
Katy’s cherry pie had been done for a few hours, so its sweet smell had long since faded. Now the aroma of meatloaf and potatoes filled the house. Katy scooped the potatoes into a serving bowl while Naomi took the meatloaf from the oven.
“I’m mighty glad you baked a pie today. I’m sure Mr. King will find it tasty.”
Katy gave a small smile, but Naomi could see the pride on her face. Inwardly, she sighed in relief. Perhaps Katy wouldn’t be sour during supper after all.
“Someday, you’re going to have a pie business,” Naomi predicted. “Actually, your pies will probably bring guests to our Bed and Breakfast.”
“You’re really going to do it, then?”
“Yes, Katy girl, we’re really going to do it.” A flash of trepidation swept through her at her own conviction. But it would be all right. The Bed and Breakfast would work out. Of course, it would.
They carried the food out to the table. Zach and Ben were already there, freshly washed up. Zach had taken the spot at the end of the table where Isaac used to sit when he and her parents were still alive. Zach was a bigger man than her husband had been, and he looked downright overpowering at the end of the table. His shoulders were wide, and he carried a determination with him that seemed to fill the room. But right then, Naomi saw him fidget with the edges of his napkin as he placed it in his lap.
“Can Mr. Zach lead the prayer?” Ben asked, giving an appreciative glance to his friend.
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