Nancy stood near the back door with another basket of peas in her hand. This was the third one she’d brought in for Naomi to wash.
“Guess I was talking to myself,” Naomi admitted. She nodded toward the counter. “Just put ’em over there, and then you need to get washed and start setting the table. Papa and the brothers will be in soon, and they’ll expect the meal to be ready and waiting.”
“Why can’t Mary Ann set the table?”
“She’s in the living room with Zach at the moment—hopefully keepin’ him out of trouble.”
“I’ll be glad when Saturday comes and we can stay home. I’d rather be sellin’ root beer at home than workin’ at the store all day.”
“There’ll be plenty of work to do here, as well,” Naomi reminded. She poured the clean peas into a kettle and placed it on the stove. “Remember, we won’t just be sellin’ root beer on Saturday.”
Nancy set the basket on the counter. “Jah, I know.”
“If things go well, maybe we can take time out to have a little picnic.”
“Can we have it down at the creek?”
“I don’t think so. We’ve gotta stay close to the house in case we get any root beer customers.”
Nancy scowled. “Then how are we gonna have a picnic?”
“We can eat it at the picnic table on the lawn. That way we can watch for customers, and if there’s time, maybe we can play a game of croquet.”
“Sounds gut to me.” Nancy started for the stairs. “I’m goin’ upstairs to wash, but I’ll be back to set the table.”
Naomi blew out her breath. She didn’t have the heart to tell Nancy they might not have time for a picnic lunch if they had a lot of customers or didn’t get all their chores done on time. She figured the child needed something to look forward to. All work and no play was bad for any soul, especially the kinner.
***
Jim stood at the window, looking down at the hotel parking lot. They had arrived in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, that morning; but after only a few hours of shopping and sightseeing, Linda developed one of her sick headaches and begged Jim to stop. He’d been fortunate enough to find a hotel with a vacancy and had canceled their reservation in Bel Air. They would leave the hotel in Lancaster at eight in the morning and be in Bel Air by ten. By this time tomorrow evening, they’d be a family of three.
Jim’s cell phone rang, and he pulled it from the clip on his belt. His conversation lasted only a few minutes, and during that time he kept glancing at the bathroom door, where Linda had gone to take something for her headache and to try to relax in a warm bath.
A few seconds after he hung up the phone, she returned to the room with a questioning look on her face. “I thought I heard your cell phone ring.”
He nodded.
“Who was it?”
“Carl Stevens. The lawyer representing the baby’s mother.”
Linda’s face paled. “Please tell me there’s nothing wrong. She didn’t back out or anything, did she, Jim?”
“Mr. Stevens called to let me know our meeting tomorrow is still on schedule.”
Linda frowned. “I wish it had been today.”
“The way you’re feeling, you wouldn’t have been up to it today, Linda. You’ll feel better by tomorrow.” Jim took Linda’s hand and led her over to the bed. “Please, lie down and try to relax. You look all done in.”
She flopped down on the bed, pulling her legs underneath her and leaning against the pillows. “I am kind of tired, and this headache doesn’t seem to be going away. It’s been a long five days on the road.”
“I know, honey, but it’ll be worth it when we get the baby. You’ll be so excited you’ll forget you were ever tired or had a migraine.”
“I hope so.” Linda rubbed her forehead.
Jim massaged her shoulders and neck. “Lie down now and rest awhile. You hardly slept last night, and I’m afraid you’re going to feel worse if you don’t get some sleep.”
She yawned. “You’re right. I haven’t slept well since we left home. A nap might really help.”
“That’s my girl. You’ll feel better after this is all behind us and we’re heading to Ohio with our boy.”
She nodded and scooted farther down on the bed. “We’ve waited so long for a baby. I just want to hold him.”
He pulled the cotton bedspread over her. “Soon, Linda. Just one more day and we’ll have our son.”
***
As Caleb headed for home, he felt a renewed sense of determination. He’d been in town on errands today and had gone by the Fishers’ store in hopes of seeing Naomi. Just like the other times he’d dropped by lately, she was busy. Too busy to talk, she’d informed him. Even if she hadn’t been busy, Caleb knew Naomi’s father was there, watching Naomi’s every move and listening to whatever she and Caleb said.
Caleb clucked to the horse to get him moving faster. “Probably shouldn’t have left Andy alone at the buggy shop while I went to town, but I wanted the chance to see Naomi again.”
The only good thing that had happened during his visit to the store was the minute he’d spent talking to Nancy Fisher, when she’d given him the news that Naomi and the younger ones would be staying home on Saturday to sell root beer from their front yard. Abraham would probably be working at the store all day, which meant Caleb could drop by the Fishers’ place for some root beer and the chance to speak to Naomi without fear of her dad eavesdropping. He hadn’t given up on their relationship yet and was determined to find a way for them to be together.
“Maybe I’ll see if Mom has a nice plant I could take Naomi,” he mumbled. “That oughta make her take notice of the way I feel.”
Caleb talked to his horse the rest of the way home, and by the time he pulled up to the mailbox beside the driveway, he was feeling pretty confident. He opened the box and withdrew the day’s mail. Smiling, he noticed a letter from his cousin, Henry, who owned a buggy shop in Holmes County, Ohio. He tore it open and read the letter out loud.
Dear Caleb:
I’ve been to an auction and have acquired some antique buggy parts—wheels, axles, springs, moldings, a couple of old seats, and a surrey top. If you’re interested in buying some, hop a bus and come take a look. Don’t be too long, though, ’cause a couple of other people are interested. Wanted to give you first pick. Your cousin,
Henry Stutzman
Caleb grinned. He would leave Andy and Marvin in charge of his shop for a few days, and come Saturday, he’d be on a bus bound for Berlin, Ohio. He would have to see Naomi some other time.
Whistling a happy tune, Caleb entered the buggy shop a short time later, but he stopped inside the door, shocked by the sight that greeted him. Andy was sitting on the floor, moaning and grasping the palm of his left hand.
“What’s wrong?” Caleb dashed over to his brother and dropped to his knees.
Andy’s face contorted. “It’s my thumb! Shot a nail straight into it.”
“How’d ya do somethin’ like that, and where was Marvin when it happened?” Caleb reached for Andy’s hand, and his stomach churned at the sight. A three-inch nail was partially embedded in his brother’s thumb.
“I was usin’ that new air gun you bought awhile back—and guess my aim was off.” Andy’s lower lip jutted out, making him look much younger than his eighteen years. “Marvin’s still out in the fields helpin’ Pop, John, and David.” He grimaced. “This sure does hurt like crazy.”
“I can only imagine.” Caleb put his arm around Andy’s waist. “Here, let me help you up. Then we’d better get one of our neighbors to drive us to the emergency room.”
Andy’s dark eyes widened as he shook his head. “The hospital?”
Caleb nodded. “You need to get this taken care of right away. Can’t go around with a nail stickin’ out of your thumb for the rest of your life.”
“But I hate hospitals. They use big needles and do things to folks that hurt somethin’ awful.”
“Nothing they do to you at the hospita
l could be much worse than what you’ve done to yourself. Now let’s go.”
Andy allowed Caleb to lead him out of the shop and into Caleb’s open buggy. As soon as he had his brother settled in the passenger seat, Caleb ran into the house to tell Mom what had happened and let her know they’d be driving to the Petersons’ to see about getting a ride to the hospital. So much for doing any more today. At the rate things were going, Caleb wondered if he’d be able to go to Ohio on Saturday.
***
Abraham took a seat on a bale of straw and leaned his head against the wooden planks of the barn. The sweet smell of hay tantalized his senses, and he drew in a deep breath. Too bad I can’t enjoy my farm all the time. If only I weren’t so tired after workin’ at the store all day.
“I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content.” Abraham thought about the verse of scripture Bishop Swartley had recently quoted from Philippians 4:11. Just this afternoon, his friend Jacob Weaver had reminded him that Hebrews 13:5 said, “Let your conversation be without covetousness; and be content with such things as ye have: for he hath said, I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee.”
Of course, Jacob was talking about the need for Abraham to be content with his family and learn to enjoy them more. He said it was time for Abraham to quit grieving over Sarah’s death and realize God hadn’t left him and would never forsake him.
Abraham closed his eyes, and a vision of his sweet wife burst into his mind. He blinked and tried to dispel the image, but it only became stronger.
It was the day of their wedding, and he could hear Sarah’s voice and feel her soft touch. Sarah’s dark eyes revealed the depth of her love for him, and they had promised to cherish one another until death parted them.
“Papa, are you sleepin’? The supper bell’s chimin’, and it’s time to eat.”
Abraham forced his eyes open, reluctantly letting go of Sarah’s image. Little had he known on their wedding day that she would be the first to pass on.
When he looked up at his oldest son, he noticed a worried frown on Matthew’s face.
“You okay, Papa?”
“Fine. Just restin’ my eyes.” He stood and arched his back.
Matthew started for the barn door. “You comin’ then?”
“Right behind you.” Abraham took one more look around the barn. He’d been grieving for Sarah long enough. It was time to move on. Jacob was right. He needed to be content with what he had. Maybe tomorrow, after he got home from the store, he’d set up the tent in their backyard, and they’d have themselves a little campout. He figured the younger ones would like it, and truth be told, he was looking forward to it, as well.
CHAPTER 9
“Linda, are you awake? It’s time to get up. Our appointment is in three hours.”
Linda’s only response was a deep moan.
Jim touched his wife’s forehead. She wasn’t running a fever; that was good. “What’s wrong, honey? Are you still feeling sick this morning?”
She nodded but kept her eyes closed.
“Maybe you’ll feel better once you’ve had some breakfast.”
Linda rolled onto her side. “My head is pounding, and my stomach’s so upset, I don’t think I could keep anything down.”
Jim climbed out of bed. “I’ll go take my shower and check on you when I get out.”
“Okay.”
Ten minutes later, when Jim returned to the bedroom, he discovered that Linda was no better.
“Honey, I think you’re gonna have to stay here while I go to Maryland to pick up the baby.”
“I have to go with you.” She lifted her head but let it fall back on the pillow.
“You don’t have to go, Linda. It will be better if you sleep off that migraine.”
“What about the papers? Won’t I be expected to sign something?”
“We both signed the necessary papers in Max’s office several weeks ago. He faxed them to the woman’s lawyer, remember?”
“Oh, that’s right.” She opened her eyes, and when she looked up, Jim noticed there were tears ready to spill over.
Linda’s face looked pale and drawn, and he knew she would never make the two-hour trip to Bel Air without throwing up. He bent over and kissed her forehead. “Close your eyes and get some sleep. By the time you wake up, you’ll be feeling better, and I’ll be here with our boy.”
She nodded, and a tear trickled down her cheek. “Don’t stop anywhere on the way back. Bring him straight to the hotel, okay?”
“I will, honey.”
***
Before Papa and Samuel left for the store in the morning, he’d nailed a sign to the fence at the end of their driveway, and Naomi placed several jugs of root beer on the picnic table. By nine o’clock, they’d had a few English customers who said they’d driven by the farm and seen the sign. A couple of their Amish neighbors also dropped by. Naomi wondered how she would get any chores done when she had to race back and forth from the house to the yard to wait on customers. Nancy wasn’t good at making change, so Naomi put her and Mary Ann to work inside while she handled the root beer sales. During the slack times, she rushed into the house, tended to Zach, did some cleaning, and instructed her sisters on what they should be doing. At the moment, they were supposed to be cleaning their bedroom while she mopped the kitchen floor. Instead, they were arguing, and Naomi was afraid they would wake Zach, who was taking his morning nap.
She set the mop and bucket aside and trudged up the stairs.
“What’s the problem?” Naomi asked when she entered the girls’ room.
Mary Ann sat on the hardwood floor with a stack of papers in her lap, and Nancy stood off to one side, her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face.
“Mary Ann won’t help me clean,” Nancy tattled. “She’s been sittin’ there goin’ through old school papers for the last ten minutes.”
“Mary Ann, please get up and help your sister clean this room,” Naomi instructed.
The child pointed to the garbage can a few inches away. “I am cleanin’. I’m throwin’ out all the papers I don’t want.”
“You can do that later, after the room is clean.” Naomi grabbed the broom, which had been leaning against the wall, and handed it to Nancy. “You sweep, and Mary Ann can hold the dustpan. After that, the windows need to be washed, and your throw rugs should be shaken.”
A horn honked in the yard, signaling another root beer customer.
Naomi turned and started for the door. “I’ll be back soon to check on your progress.” She left the room, praying she’d have enough patience to get through the day without losing her temper or having to spank someone.
***
Jim was glad traffic was light that morning, and he had no trouble finding his way to Carl Stevens’s office in Bel Air. He parked the minivan in the parking lot, and a few minutes later he entered the building and introduced himself to the receptionist. The middle-aged woman invited him to take a seat, asked if he’d like a cup of coffee, and said Mr. Stevens would be with him in a few minutes.
As Jim sat in a straight-backed chair, holding a mug of coffee in his hands, he wished Linda were with him. Would the lawyer be reluctant to hand the boy over to Jim without meeting his wife first? Would the child willingly go with Jim, or would he make a fuss?
I sure am glad I bought that car seat for the baby before we left Washington. I’m so nervous, I’d probably have forgotten to get one if we’d waited to buy it until we got here.
Jim was more than a little anxious about becoming a father. After eight years of marriage, he and Linda had developed a pleasant routine. Their whole life was about to change, and he hoped it would be for the better and that he wouldn’t regret his decision to adopt this little one-year-old boy.
“Mr. Scott?”
Jim’s thoughts came to a halt, and he looked up. A tall man with thinning gray hair and rimless glasses offered him a halfhearted smile.
Jim stood and extended his hand. “You must be Carl Ste
vens.”
“That’s right.” The man glanced around. “Where’s your wife? Linda, isn’t that her name?”
“She’s at the hotel with a bad headache.”
The lawyer raised his eyebrows, but before he could ask any questions, Jim quickly added, “It’s just a tension headache. She’ll be fine in a couple hours.”
“I see. Well, please come into my office.” The older man led the way, and Jim followed.
When they entered his office, Mr. Stevens nodded toward a chair. “Please, have a seat.”
As he sat down, Jim scanned the room. He and Carl Stevens seemed to be alone. He cleared his throat. “Excuse me, sir, but where’s our baby? Will I be meeting the child’s mother?”
The lawyer took a seat in the leather chair behind his desk and leaned forward, his hands tightly clasped. “There’s been a change in plans.”
“Change in plans? What do you mean?” Jim’s heartbeat picked up momentum, and a trickle of sweat rolled down his forehead. He didn’t like the fact that there was no mother or baby waiting to greet him, and Mr. Stevens’s grim look gave no comfort, either.
“Shelby, the boy’s mother, phoned me this morning.”
“And?”
“I’m sorry to say she’s changed her mind.”
“About the adoption?” Jim’s face heated, and it was all he could do to remain seated.
The lawyer nodded solemnly. “I’m afraid so, and as you already know, she has the right to do that.”
Jim jumped up. “But she can’t back out now! Linda and I were counting on this adoption. We’ve come a long way to get the boy.”
“I’m aware of that, but you knew there was a chance this could happen. I’m sure your lawyer advised you of the birth mother’s rights.”
“Yes, he did, but we hadn’t heard anything to the contrary since we signed the papers on our end, so we assumed—”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Scott. I’m sure once you explain the details to your lawyer, he will try to find you another child.”
Jim trembled as he fought for control. “What details? Why did the birth mother change her mind at the last minute? I need to have something to tell my wife when I show up without the baby.”
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