Naomi's Hope

by Jan Drexler

As soon as she entered the clearing, Naomi looked past the cabin and found Cap. She gave him a smile that started a soft warmth spreading through his middle. Her smile was welcoming, friendly, and just for him. It had been a long time since a young woman had looked at him without the calculated look of a girl hoping to snag a husband. Cap felt his own smile answering before he thought to restrain it. But there was no reason to hold it in.

  Davey trailed behind his mother, a loaf of bread in his arms. As soon as he set it down on the table where Naomi indicated, he ran to Cap.

  “Your house is almost done. Can I live in it with you?”

  The unexpected question clenched at Cap’s heart. He dropped down on one knee to be level with the boy’s face. “Don’t you think your mamm wants you to stay with her?”

  Davey’s face screwed into a pouting frown. “She never lets me do what I want.”

  Cap almost succeeded in repressing a smile. “What is it you want to do?”

  “Hunt and trap and fish. Canoe down the river like the Indians. Trade our furs at Fort Wayne like Jed Smith does, and wear buckskin.”

  Straightening his smile, Cap looked into the boy’s blue eyes. He remembered having dreams like Davey’s when he was young.

  “That sounds like an interesting way to live.”

  “Ja, for sure.” Davey nodded. “No one to tell us what to do. That’s what Jed says.”

  “But there’s one problem.”

  Davey’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

  “Who would cook our dinners?”

  “You would. You cook yours, don’t you?”

  Cap shook his head. “I’m not a very good cook. Your mamm, though . . .” He glanced at the tall, slim figure slicing bread at the makeshift table. “Your mamm and grossmutti cook fine meals. That isn’t something to turn your back on, even for a life in the woods, like Jed.”

  Davey scuffed at the ground with one foot. “Ja. Even Jed has Jenny to cook for him.”

  Cap grinned at that. He hadn’t met this Jed yet, but he sounded like an interesting character. “A man can get awfully hungry, out hunting and trapping all day long.”

  “I guess.” Davey stopped scuffing.

  Cap lifted the boy’s chin until Davey looked at him. “That doesn’t mean we can’t go hunting together sometime, if your mamm says we can.”

  The delighted grin was back as quickly as it had disappeared. “Really? Can we?”

  “I’ll ask your mamm.” Cap snagged Davey’s arm as he turned to run toward Naomi. “Hold on, there. Not so fast.” Davey stopped. “I’ll ask your mamm when the time is right. She’s busy right now.”

  Davey nodded, watching Naomi work. “Ja, you’re right.” He sighed.

  “This isn’t the time of year for good hunting, anyway. The autumn is better, when the nights are cool. We’ll plan on it then, and that will give your mamm time to get used to the idea.”

  The boy launched toward Cap and flung his arms around his neck. Cap grabbed the small body in a hug so fierce it surprised him.

  “Denki, Cap.”

  Cap’s eyes pricked as Davey clung to him. This was what he had lost when Martha died. A boy’s trusting love.

  Shem Fisher took a tin cup from the table and poured himself some coffee from the pot at the edge of the campfire. He sipped at the hot, bitter liquid, watching Cap and the boy over the rim of the cup. Cap Stoltzfus. That was one name from his past that he never thought he’d hear again. Little Casper Stoltzfus. The snotty-nosed kid who always tattled on him in school. Two years younger, but somehow a grade ahead.

  Shem took a swallow of the coffee, forgetting how hot it was. He spat it out and whooshed air in through his mouth, trying to cool his burned tongue.

  Cap looked different, that was for sure. Instead of the skinny twelve-year-old who avoided him whenever he could, Cap was tall and self-assured. Taller than most men, slim and well-built. His dark hair and eyes were still the same, though. And that sideways look he had given Shem when Christian introduced them yesterday told him that Cap remembered too, even though so many years had gone by. Back then, Cap had always outshone Shem, whether it was the school spelling bee or foot races during recess. The canker of jealousy was still sore.

  Shem took another sip of coffee, cautious now. The bitter liquid burned anyway.

  Shem straightened and threw the rest of the coffee into the underbrush at the edge of the clearing. Enough observing. It was time to plan his next move.

  The folks here had accepted his word that he was a minister, and if they thought to check up on him, Ontario was a long way from Indiana. When he was elected at last fall’s council meeting, that should have been the end of it. But the church wouldn’t listen to him, and the other ministers had asked him to leave.

  Shem rubbed the cup along the edge of his leg, wiping the stray drops of coffee off the rim. He didn’t mind leaving, especially when Priscilla had chosen to stay with her folks instead of following him to Indiana. She claimed she was too fragile to travel, and her parents supported her decision to stay. But riding away from his wife, he had seen the satisfied look on her pretty face and it gnawed at him. She had looked as pleased to be rid of him as he had been to leave her behind.

  He shook his head, clearing that thought from his mind. He was a minister, and there would be no doubts or discussion. Once these people heard him preach, they wouldn’t even think to question his right to lead them. And once he was established, he would send for Priscilla. By then she would be proud of the progress he had made even without her prodding him, and wouldn’t make his life so miserable.

  Another wagon drove into the clearing, and Shem watched Cap step forward to greet the newcomers, along with Christian Yoder.

  “Good morning,” called Christian. “Did the word about the house raising spread all the way to Clinton Township?”

  So Christian hadn’t sent the message about the house raising to the folks in the western part of the district. Shem filed the information away.

  “Ja, for sure.” The tall man lowered himself from the wagon while an assortment of half-grown boys jumped out of the back. A petite girl, blonde and strikingly pretty, followed more slowly. “My boy Peter was over this way yesterday and heard about the plan. We came as soon as chores were done this morning.”

  Christian saw Shem watching the conversation and motioned for him to join them. “This is Shem Fischer, just arrived from Ontario a couple days ago.” He nodded toward the newcomer. “This is Tall Peter Gingerich.”

  Shem lifted his gaze to the top of Tall Peter’s hat, a good foot above his own. “I can see where you got your name.”

  Tall Peter laughed. “Ja, for sure. I’ve had it since I was a boy and grew taller than my daed. He was Peter too. So folks called me Tall Peter, and I haven’t been anything else since.”

  The girl walked by with her mother. “This is my wife, Mary, and my daughter, Susan.”

  Mary stopped next to her husband. Shem could see where her daughter’s beauty came from. “It’s good to meet a newcomer to the area. Will you be settling here, then?”

  Christian spoke before Shem could answer. “We hope he will. Shem is a minister of the church in Ontario, and he’ll be a blessed addition to our church here.”

  A well of satisfied pride rose in Shem’s chest, but he kept his response down to a slight upward turn of his lips. “I only hope to bring the Word of God to the people of his church, wherever he may use me.”

  Mary smiled, pleased with his answer. “You will have to visit both ends of the district, then. Clinton Township has much to offer a man looking to settle.”

  She sniffed slightly, as if to say that Clinton Township was the only proper place to live in the Indiana district.

  Shem smiled at her words and let his gaze drift to Susan, standing to her mother’s right as she listened to the conversation. Her blue eyes captured his gaze and returned it with her own appraising stare before her mother tugged at her sleeve.

  “Come, Susan. We must help th
e ladies serve dinner.”

  Susan walked away with an unconscious sway. Shem rubbed at his beard, shifting his gaze before one of the other men noticed. Perhaps that sway hadn’t been unconscious at all.

  He joined the other men at their dinner. They ate quickly and went back to the work of shaping the attic portion of the house with progressively shorter logs that rose to a peak. Shem took his time eating. If they needed his help, they would ask.

  The women took their seats at the makeshift table, ready to have their dinner while they watched the men work. Susan Gingerich sat across the table from him and passed the plate of cornbread.

  “Do you want another piece of bread, Preacher Shem?” She kept her voice quiet, but those blue eyes were fixed on him with a bold stare.

  “Ja, for sure.” Shem chose the largest piece on the plate.

  “Will your family be joining you soon?”

  Shem broke off a corner of the bread and chewed it as he watched her face. “My wife wants to stay with her parents in Ontario as long as possible. She won’t be joining me until later. Perhaps not until next year.”

  “That’s a long time to be apart.” Susan’s words were sympathetic, but Shem received the message her smile gave him.

  “Ja, well, I’m certain I will make new friends here, and the time will pass quickly.”

  He finished his bread and stood, brushing the crumbs off his lap. As pleasant as it would be to sit and visit with Susan, he needed to show his support for the house raising. He needed to become part of this community. He joined Christian Yoder, busy at the simple task of whittling pegs.

  “How many more of these do we need?” Shem asked, taking a seat on a stump and pulling his knife from its sheath.

  “At least a dozen. The men will be using these to fasten the roof at the eaves, so they need to be longer than the others.”

  Christian handed him a piece of oak branch, the bark already removed. Shem started cutting a circle around the stick, about the length of the pegs Christian had already made.

  “How large is this settlement, Brother Christian?”

  “We have about thirty families. It’s hard to keep track with new people arriving nearly every month.”

  “Tall Peter and his family are from a different area?”

  Christian threw another finished peg onto the pile. “Folks have settled here in Eden and Newbury Townships in LaGrange County, and also in Clinton Township, over in Elkhart County. The river and its marshes make a natural barrier between the ends of the settlement, so we’re scattered between the two counties.”

  He worked at narrowing one end of the next peg into a point while Shem watched. Christian’s pegs were appearing out of the stick like clockwork, while he was still working to get his first peg cut off the stick.

  “All of the families I’ve met in this area over the last couple days seem to be related to each other.”

  “Ja, for sure.” Christian blew a stray shaving off the end of his finished peg. “Several of us traveled here together from Pennsylvania a few years ago, and we settled close to each other, for the most part. Some of our children have married each other, and others coming from Pennsylvania later on settled near us, as well.”

  “And Clinton Township?”

  “Many of the families there moved together from Wayne County, in Ohio.” Christian shrugged. “Folks like to settle near their family and friends.”

  Shem concentrated on his whittling. The Amish in Wayne County were known for their change-minded bent, while the folks from Pennsylvania tended to be more conservative. Churches tended to have difficulties when there were things to disagree on. He glanced at the men working on the roof of the new house. And difficulties meant that there could be an opportunity for someone like him. Someone to take control of the situation.

  By the time the dinner dishes were washed, the men had started laying the shingles for the roof.

  Naomi shaded her eyes with one hand as she watched Cap hammering shingles into the roof supports with the precious iron nails he had brought from Ohio. He joked with the other men on his side of the roof. Jacob Yoder and her brother Henry worked on either side of him, telling tall tales that had all three of them laughing so hard that Henry nearly slipped off the roof.

  “Watch it there,” Cap said, catching Henry’s arm.

  Henry grinned as he regained his balance, then waved to Naomi when he saw her watching. “I’m all right.”

  Naomi waved back and caught Cap watching her. The smile he sent her way before he went back to his work started a warm glow inside.

  It was kind of him to notice her. She twisted her kapp string between her fingers. Someone as handsome as he was could have his pick of any girl. He probably had someone in mind right now, back in Ohio, and was getting his farm ready before going back to marry her. Suddenly aware that she was staring at him, Naomi shook herself and concentrated on the conversation between Mamm and Annalise Yoder.

  “Did the apple saplings survive the winter?” Annalise asked.

  “Ja,” Mamm said. “Well, most of them. There are a few that haven’t put out leaves yet, but the branches are still green. Eli says if they survive the summer, they’ll leaf out next year.”

  “I’m looking forward to an orchard again.” Annalise sighed and turned the knitting in her hand. She was making a small sweater for Gideon out of light brown yarn. “When we left Pennsylvania, I didn’t think it would be so long before we would have apple trees again. I’m glad Christian and Eli decided to start the seeds last year.”

  “When those apples come, what will you make first? Pie? Apple crumble?”

  “Ach, Lydia.” Annalise frowned and looked at Mamm over her knitting. “You know better than to count your chickens before they’re hatched. We have a couple more years to wait before we’ll get any apples off of those trees.”

  Mamm chuckled. “You are right. Eli says I’m always jumping ahead of my plans.”

  Annalise glanced at Naomi. “What about your plans to buy some of Jacob’s sheep? Are you still thinking about that? The lambs will be coming in another month or so.”

  “I thought the sheep might be a good way for me to help the family.” Naomi quelled the familiar turn of the stomach she always felt when she thought of raising sheep on her own. “I want to start with a small flock, though. I’m only buying three of the lambs, and Jacob said I could keep them with his flock for a share of the wool.”

  Annalise nodded her approval. “That’s a good idea. And do you plan to sell the wool?”

  “Daed said he would build a loom for me, so I can weave fabric, like you do. Then I’ll be able to make clothes, and sell whatever material is extra.”

  Annalise’s knitting needles stilled as she smiled at Naomi. “That’s why you wanted me to teach you how to weave last winter.”

  “I wanted to see if I liked it before Daed went to the expense of building a loom for me.”

  “And you did, didn’t you?” Annalise’s hands started knitting again as she turned to Mamm. “I’ve never seen anyone enjoy weaving like Naomi does, unless it would be my own Margli.”

  “It’s so . . .” Naomi searched for the word.

  “Peaceful,” Annalise finished for her. “It’s almost like watching the wind in the treetops, isn’t it?”

  Naomi nodded. “The rhythm is soothing, but at the same time it’s work. Useful work, and then we have something both beautiful and useful at the end.” She laced her fingers over her knee. “So I’m anxious to have my own flock of sheep, but a little scared at the same time. What if I can’t care for them properly?”

  “By the time your flock is ready to leave Jacob’s, Davey will be old enough to care for them,” Mamm said. “And Jacob will teach him.”

  “Speaking of Davey, I need to see what he’s getting into.” Naomi looked around the clearing, but her son wasn’t in sight.

  “Ja, and I must be getting home.” Annalise stuffed her knitting into a cloth bag. “Margli is watching the twins, bu
t their nap will be over soon.”

  Mamm stood as her friend did. “It’s time to start fixing supper. I’ll walk home with you.”

  As the older women left, Naomi looked around the clearing. When she didn’t see Davey around the men working on the roof, she went to the road and looked up and down the stump-filled way. Sometimes Davey liked to play a game of hopping from stump to stump, but he wasn’t there. She walked on a bit to see around the new house, where some of the men had been splitting shingles, but he wasn’t there either. Turning around, she walked toward Cap’s wagon. Just as she reached the corner of the wagon, she saw him at the edge of the woods, playing with Stephen Gingerich, Susan’s eight-year-old brother. She leaned against the wagon, watching the boys as they used sticks as pretend axes and chopped at a huge sycamore tree.

  “It sounds suspicious, if you ask me.” Susan’s voice carried to Naomi from the other side of the wagon. Who would she be talking to?

  “Where did she say he came from?” The answering voice sounded like the new minister, Shem Fischer.

  “She said the boy’s parents were dead, and she adopted him. But I’ve never heard of such a thing, have you? A young single woman adopting a child like that?”

  “So you don’t believe her?”

  “I’m not one to accuse a person of lying . . .” Susan’s tone of voice implied that she was doing exactly that.

  “This is a serious situation,” Preacher Shem answered. “If she gave birth to the boy out of wedlock and covered up the sin, then she should be under the bann.”

  “What about her parents?” Susan’s voice dropped as she spoke, so that Naomi had to strain to hear her words. “Wouldn’t they have known? Do you think they’re covering her sin too?”

  “They must be.”

  Naomi felt the blood drain from her face as she stepped away from the wagon. Why did she ever stay to listen as long as she did? Rumors were cruel things, meant to hurt and cast suspicion. But what could she do if the people of the church believed them?

  She hurried to pick up the last of the dishes to carry home, but before she started down the path through the woods, she turned to look at the new house. Cap straddled the ridge pole, hammering the last of the shingles onto the roof. He caught her eye and waved, his smile just for her.