Amish Romance: Naomi's Story: THREE Story BOXED SET: Clean & Wholesome Amish Book Bundle

by Brenda Maxfield

  He gave a slight intake of breath and bent down to kiss her again. Raising his mouth from hers, he gazed deeply into her eyes. “So is that a yes? You’ll marry me?”

  She nodded as the tears coursed down her cheeks. “I’ll marry you. Of course, I’ll marry you!”

  He grinned, and for a split second, she thought he would burst into tears, too. Then he asked, “Shall we tell the children?”

  “Right away.” She could hardly contain her excitement.

  “Do you think they’ll be all right with it?”

  She smiled. “Ben will be over the moon. And Katy, ah, our dear Katy, she’ll come around. And right quick, I’m thinking.”

  Zach squeezed her to him and then let her go. He tenderly helped her back into the pony cart, and she scooted over on the bench to make room for him. He climbed up and the cart dipped under his weight.

  “Shall we go?”

  Naomi nodded and looped her arm through his. “Jah,” she said, and her voice was full of eager consent.

  Epilogue

  The ride back from Zach’s house in the pony cart seems like a precious dream to me now. I think of that short trip often, remembering the joy that burst through me at every turn, and remembering how I glanced up at Zach constantly, feeling the need to reassure myself that he was really there, beside me.

  I couldn’t wait to get back to tell the children. And I couldn’t wait to tell Mary. I didn’t have to leave! I could stay in Hollybrook for the rest of my days.

  Never, for an instant, did I think I would fall in love again after Isaac died. If I ever remarried, I figured it would be mostly for my children’s sake. For them to have a father figure in their lives, and for all of us to have someone to help provide for us. I never thought I’d fall so deeply in love with another man.

  But I did. I love Zach so much that sometimes it takes my breath away. I don’t think of Zach in comparison to Isaac. I don’t really even think of him as my second husband. There’s no need. Isaac’s and my life chapter together is complete. A cherished, much-loved memory. But Zach is my husband in his own way, and our love is unique in that it belongs to just the two of us. God has indeed blessed me far beyond what I ever dreamed possible.

  When we got back to my farm that afternoon, Marvin was pacing the porch. He was angry, but when he saw Zach with me, his expression turned first to curiosity and then relief. I knew he thought Zach was coming to tell him that he’d purchase the farm. When Zach shared his real intent, Marvin collapsed in a rocker and stared at us. I couldn’t help but giggle—seeing Marvin speechless for once in his life did my heart good.

  I went upstairs to find Ben and when I told him the news, he flew down the steps and into Zach’s arms. The two of them remained like that, pressed together tightly for the longest time. I stood by and wept to see it. I wept for Isaac and all that he was missing. But mostly, I wept with joyous contentment that Ben was being given the gift of a second father.

  Katy reacted much as I thought she would. Hesitant at first. Grumpy about it, too, if the truth be told. But Zach’s quiet presence at every dinner for the following week softened her. And when she saw that her uncle approved, that went in Zach’s favor, too. And of course, Katy wouldn’t have to leave her best friend which was a very nice thing for her.

  Since the marriage, she’s come fully around. She even bakes a pie every now and then for Zach. If any of us touches it, she playfully slaps our hands away and announces that it’s for Zach’s appetite only.

  My family back in Pennsylvania was shocked at the news to say the least. But I ended up getting kind letters from most of them. Marvin’s assessment of Zach’s fine character helped. They were especially mollified when I told them we’d try to make a trip out east to visit them soon.

  But we won’t be going for a while. Zach and I are awaiting our first boppli. The little one is due come August. A busy time, to be sure, what with the harvesting and the canning to be done. But I have Mary to help me. And Katy. Together, we will do just fine.

  As for King’s Bed and Breakfast, it is humming along. I usually have guests once or maybe twice a week. Which is enough for now. It would be hard to handle more.

  My life is full. Full and happy. Ach, sometimes it feels like it’s overflowing! Which after the last two years is wonderful, indeed.

  I probably should mention that the sign King’s Bed and Breakfast looks right fine at the end of the drive. On more than one occasion, I’ve stood before it solely to admire its beauty. It does a good job of bringing in new guests, too.

  The End

  Thank you for reading Naomi’s Story! Are you wondering what to read next? Why not read The Amish Beekeeper? Here’s a sample for you:

  Winnie Hilty’s arthritic hand darted out and batted at her daughter’s shoulder.

  “I hear them,” her voice scratched out. “Get them off of you. Get them off!” She grew increasingly agitated. “It’s the buzzing! It won’t stop.”

  “Mamm,” Rhoda said, her voice soft and crooning. “There are no bees on me. They’re all outside.” She grabbed her mother’s thin hands and pressed them to the old woman’s lap. “Don’t fret so. Everything’s fine.”

  Winnie’s watery eyes stared into Rhoda’s. There was a blankness there that grabbed Rhoda’s heart. Her mother was worse—and she was getting worse every day.

  “Come on,” Rhoda said, putting her arms around the woman’s shoulders. “Let’s get you to the kitchen. You can sit by the warming stove, and we’ll have a nice cup of tea.”

  Winnie blinked in confusion as Rhoda gently guided her into the kitchen.

  “Sit here, Mamm. It’s nice and warm.” Rhoda placed her mother in the old white rocker. It barely moved under Winnie’s slight weight.

  There was a fire going in the stove, albeit a small one. Being only October it hadn’t really turned cold yet, but Rhoda knew that Winnie felt every breeze as if it were a rush of ice. Even now, she shivered under Rhoda’s hands.

  The kettle on the stove whistled, and Rhoda made a hot cup of chamomile tea for her mother. Old Mae, the healing woman in their district, claimed that chamomile tea cured every ailment known to man. Rhoda gave a wry smile. It wouldn’t touch what ailed her mother, but it was a comfort nevertheless.

  “The bees?” Winnie asked. “I hear ’em.”

  “But Mamm, that’s not possible. They’re all out behind the barn. You know that.”

  “I hear ’em!” Winnie insisted. “Buzzing. All the time buzzing. Makes me dizzy.”

  Rhoda knew it would do no good to argue with her. Indeed, Rhoda had no interest in arguing at all.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ll keep them quiet.”

  Winnie took a timid sip of the steaming tea. She rested the cup in the saucer on her lap. “Is there honey in the tea?” she asked. “Tastes right sweet.”

  “Jah. I put in one teaspoon just how you like it.”

  Winnie smacked her lips together. She looked better now. Her eyes were more focused, and there was some color in her cheeks. “What’s for supper, daughter?”

  “We’re going to have roast beef sandwiches. And some of this year’s pickles. How does that suit?”

  “Gut. Wonderful gut.” Winnie took another sip of tea. “I’m sorry to be such a bother.”

  “You aren’t a bother, Mamm. Don’t say such things.”

  “Nee. I’m a bother. Especially when I have a spell.”

  Winnie had taken to calling her lapses of reality spells. Old Mae called them nothing more than getting old. But for Rhoda, it didn’t matter what they were called. They were worrisome. It was almost as if the woman’s brain regularly went into a tailspin for an hour or so. Or worse, it turned off completely. Her mother would become disoriented. She forgot even the most basic things.

  With Rhoda’s father deceased and her two sisters and brother married with families of their own, Winnie’s care fell to her. Rhoda didn’t mind. Not really. But sometimes it kept her awake at night. Especially when W
innie got it in her mind to wander the house in the dark of midnight.

  Rhoda took a sip of the tea. The honey was a good batch, sweet and smooth.

  Rhoda headed for the sink, and Winnie grabbed her arm, pulling it more strongly than one would have guessed possible.

  “You won’t let them take me, will you?”

  Rhoda looked at her mother. “Take you? What do you mean?”

  “I want to live here till I die. Your father built this house, you know.”

  “Jah, Mamm, I know. And who would take you anywhere? Of course, you’ll live here till you die.” She patted her mother’s shoulder. “Which won’t happen for a long time now, will it?”

  Winnie chuckled. “Nee. Nee. Not for a long time yet. I’m still alive and kicking.”

  Rhoda smiled and turned to the sink. She hoped the Lord God would forgive her the small lie. Because it wasn’t true—someone did want to take her mother away.

  ****

  At sunrise, Rhoda was out with her hives. They were placed behind the barn where it was level and they would get the early morning sun. The bees put in a longer day’s work that way, which gave Rhoda more honey to use and sell. She loved her bees and well-remembered when she’d started keeping them. Her dat had encouraged her, even helping her catch her first swarm to get started.

  Rhoda checked the bird baths she’d placed near the hives. They were still full of water, the October sun not evaporating them as quickly as during the summer months. Of course, the birds still dove in and splashed happily about, but Rhoda was glad to have them. She didn’t mind refilling the baths when needed. She dipped her finger into the cold water. If she didn’t give her bees a source of water close to home, they would invade someone else’s property, searching. She knew for a fact that her bees frequented Edmund’s Pond when they were out and about. Some neighbors didn’t take kindly to it, not appreciating clouds of bees around, trying to get at the water.

  Rhoda’s sister Donna had screamed and thrown a hissy fit once when she and her children were swimming in the pond and the swarm swooped in for a drink.

  Rhoda stood and looked out over the vast fields, most of which her brother Bart farmed for them. He was weary of it, though, having taken over his wife’s family farm. Farming both pieces of land was too much, no matter how hard he worked—a fact which he bemoaned to Rhoda on more than one occasion. Rhoda sighed. Bart was a good brother. But as the eldest and the only remaining male in the family, he could get downright bossy.

  Rhoda’s cheeks grew warm. She shook her head, scolding herself for such thoughts. It was Bart’s place to be in charge, and it was her place to obey. She set her lips in a fine line. Obeying didn’t come easily to her, no matter how many times she was instructed in it or scolded for her lack of it.

  Not that Rhoda was scolded much these days. She was twenty-six years old—an old maid in most people’s minds. No, outright scolding wasn’t necessary anymore. A well-placed burning look did the job quite nicely.

  Rhoda lifted the lid off the hive and waggled her hive tool to check the first box. She didn’t wear her protective gear anymore. Indeed, she no longer had gear that fit her very well. Of course, the head gear and veil and gloves were still fine, but the suit, not so much. By then Rhoda knew her bees well, and they seemed to know her. She hadn’t been stung in years.

  She grinned, keeping her lips closed. She’d once seen an Amish man wear a beard made of bees. It was amusing, but she thought it a bit showy. The tourists loved it, though, which was probably why he did it in the first place. Rhoda wasn’t interested in tourism. She was interested in her bees and the delicious honey they produced. She made a fairly good profit with the golden nectar, and to be honest, she and her mother needed the money.

  Soon, it would be time to overwinter the hives, but she reckoned that she still had at least one more batch of honey to collect.

  She heard the sound of a wagon approach and knew it would be her brother. Not many other people came by. She finished her inspection and then walked back around the barn. The bees didn’t follow her, although one remained on her sleeve until she was just about to Bart’s wagon before it flew away.

  “Rhoda,” Bart said with a smile. “You tending your hives?”

  “Jah. I didn’t expect you today.”

  “Have you seen to the livestock?”

  Rhoda gave him a look. “Of course, I have, Bart. You know I take care of the animals.”

  Bart had the decency to look a bit sheepish. “Just making conversation.”

  Rhoda grimaced.

  “How’s Mamm today?”

  “She had a spell yesterday, but she seems to be fine today.”

  “Her spells are coming more and more frequent.”

  Rhoda started toward the house, and Bart strode beside her. She agreed with him. “They are. It’s all right, though. I can handle it.”

  Bart stopped and put his hand on Rhoda’s shoulder. “I don’t rightly think you two should spend another winter here by yourselves.”

  Rhoda tensed. Here it came. Again.

  “Rhoda, you know we’ve discussed this.”

  “Nee. We haven’t discussed it at all. You’ve made your proclamations. But you know how I feel. And you know how Mamm feels.”

  “Mamm doesn’t even know how she feels. She’s not in her right mind a lot of the time.”

  “She knows that she doesn’t want to move.”

  They’d reached the front porch, and Winnie was nowhere to be seen. Rhoda gestured to one of the rockers on the porch and Bart sat down. She sat beside him.

  “Evelyn is in agreement,” Bart said. “We need to move both you and Mamm into our daadi haus. It’s got two bedrooms. It’d be right comfortable for you.”

  “I know what your daadi haus looks like,” Rhoda said, her voice tight.

  “It’s too much to keep up the place here,” Bart said. “Now, if you were married, it’d be another matter.”

  Rhoda’s back stiffened. “That isn’t likely to happen,” she said tersely. She had no beau. She had no interest in any of the men in the district. Not that she knew them all. But watching over the farm, her mamm, and her bees took every bit of energy and time she had. Romance held no place in her life.

  “We can sell the place. Donna and Martha and me are all well-placed now. It’s only you and Mamm that need a home.”

  “We have a home,” Rhoda said. “Right here.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “No, I don’t. And besides, Bart, why don’t you move in here and take on this place. It’s the family farm.”

  “You know the farm Evelyn got from her folks is bigger. We got four kinner now, and we’ll have more. I need the bigger farm to support the family.”

  “But your mamm lives here.” Rhoda stared at her brother. He and Evelyn took care of Evelyn’s mother, who lived with them. Rhoda felt that Bart had put his mother-in-law before his own mother.

  “Rhoda.” Bart sighed and braced each of his hands on a knee. “I’m telling you that I will take care of you and Mamm. You need to move in with us in the daadi haus. I could sell this farm, and then we’d have money to make all sorts of improvements on my farm.”

  “So you’re calling Evelyn’s family farm yours, now?”

  Bart rolled his eyes. “Why are you being so obstinate? I’ve got a solution for everyone.”

  “I don’t need a solution. I don’t recall ever saying I had a problem.” Rhoda sat straight and tall, but even as the words flowed from her mouth, she knew they weren’t true. She and her mother barely scraped by each year. If not for Bart farming most of the land, they wouldn’t make it at all.

  “The decision has been made.” Bart looked at her.

  Rhoda jumped from the chair. “What do you mean? Now I have no choice?” Her breath came quick and short. He couldn’t do this to her. He couldn’t take her and her mother from their home.

  But he could. Oh, he could.

  “I’m not your enemy, Rhoda. I’m tryi
ng to make this better for everyone.”

  “Give me the winter,” she said. “Give me the winter, at least.”

  “What for?” Bart threw up his hands. “The winter ain’t going to change a thing.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “You don’t even get honey during the winter.”

  “I know that.” Rhoda’s mind whirled. “I’ll think of something.”

  Bart leaned close. “Why don’t you just get married like any normal Amish girl? Huh? Then you can go live with your husband, and I’ll take Mamm with me.”

  Her eyes widened. “You just said if I got a husband, I could stay.”

  He shook his head and gave her an exasperated look. “But you won’t get a husband, will you? So it don’t make any difference either way, does it?”

  She stood to her full height. “Is there anything else you wanted?”

  His eyes had a sad look of compassion in them as he stood. “I thought I’d visit Mamm while I’m here,” he said, going to the screen door and opening it with a squawk.

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