Katy spread the pie tins across the counter and then flew outside hollering for her brother. Naomi dragged a bushel of apples from the corner, and turning on the faucet, she ran handfuls of them beneath the water. How she wished she had the peeler she’d seen in the Groyer’s kitchen back in Pennsylvania. She’d never beheld such a wonder. You fastened the apple into the contraption and turned a crank, and after mere moments, there it was: a peeled apple. Well, she’d have to do it the old-fashioned way with a paring knife.
She could set Katy to making some lemon pudding, though. And Ben could help fetch whatever was needed.
Ben came tumbling into the kitchen after Katy. “We’re making pies?” he asked, with a silly grin. “I been wanting some pie.”
“Not for you, Ben. We’re going to sell these pies and make some money.” Naomi was actually excited about the prospect, knowing she was doing something constructive to earn their keep.
“Can’t I have a piece?” Ben whined.
Naomi laughed. “We’ll see. Maybe we can make one extra.”
Katy giggled. “Sounds like a fine idea to me.”
Naomi was already sifting flour into a large glass bowl. “Ben, grab me that wooden spoon, would you?” She nodded toward the counter. “And get the salt.”
The kitchen became a dusty flurry as the three of them hustled about, measuring, cutting, peeling, and rolling. Halfway through, Naomi glanced up at the kitchen clock. “Faster, children! We’re not going to make our deadline.”
“Mamm, there aren’t enough apples for this one,” Katy said, a stripe of flour across her cheek. “And we’re out.”
“Put in a pear,” Ben suggested.
“We don’t have any pears!”
“How about a peach?” he suggested.
“We don’t have peaches, either.”
Naomi’s gaze flew about the kitchen. She spotted a quart jar of apple marmalade on the shelf. “We can use the marmalade,” she said. “Will it be enough?”
Katy ran to get it, twisted off the ring and then flipped off the lid with the edge of a butter knife. She was about to stick her finger into the rich jam-like substance when Naomi stopped her.
“Don’t you go sticking your finger in there, Katy Byler! We can’t be selling your germs at the roadside stand, now can we?”
Katy gave a sheepish giggle and scooped the marmalade over the apple filling already in the crust. She spread it around evenly and then stood back with a look of admiration on her young face. “What do you think, Mamm?”
“I think it’s going to be the best pie we bake today. Ben, help Katy put on the top crust.”
They were back at it, the heat from the cooking stove filling the kitchen until all three of them had red faces wet with perspiration. When the last two pies were put in the oven, they all three collapsed onto the kitchen bench.
“We done it,” Ben said. “Can I have my piece now?”
Naomi reached over and tousled his hair, making it stand up in spikes. “We made a dozen, and we’re out of ingredients.” But she rushed on. “I tell you what. I’ll sprinkle the extra scraps of dough with sugar and cinnamon and bake them for you to munch on. How’s that?”
Ben grinned. “Okay.” He jumped up. “Let’s do it now.”
Naomi shook her head in amusement and got up to grab a cookie sheet. She spread the scraps of dough over the surface and sprinkled them with the sweet mixture.
“Soon as the last pie comes out, we’ll stick these in. You can eat them on the way to the stand. Now, both of you go wash up a bit. You look like you’ve been inside a bakery that exploded.”
They went to the washroom near the side entrance. She heard them jabbering about the pie crusts and all the work they’d done. She was proud of them. Ever since … well … ever since the accident, they’d pulled together to help her in so many ways. Katy, especially. The child was grown-up well beyond her eleven years.
Naomi grabbed up the dirty cooking utensils and dropped them into the sink. She’d like to do something especially nice for Katy one of these days. In gratitude. She began washing the dishes when she remembered the rising bread.
“Ach! The bread!” she cried, running into the panty. The dough had risen and slopped over the side of the bowl in a spongy mess, taking with it the dishtowel she’d draped over the top hours earlier. She stared at the disaster as if it had somehow betrayed her. Then realizing how silly she was being and that the whole thing was her fault, she gathered up the entire jumble and carried it outside to dump into the garbage bin.
She knew it was going to take a bit of washing to get that dishtowel clean again.
Ben and Katy had hitched up Molly to the pony cart, and Katy had expertly driven the cart up to the front porch.
“We’re ready, Mama!” she called in through the door.
“I’ve got the pies boxed up. Come help me carry!” Naomi called back.
The children dashed inside, and Naomi slowed them to a crawl after she gave them each a box containing two pies. “We’ll set these in the back of the cart and then come back for the rest,” she directed.
All the boxes fit quite tidily into the bed of the cart. Naomi spread a clean sheet over the top of all the boxes and then climbed into the driver’s spot. “All aboard!” she said with a grin. “Now, let’s go sell some pies.”
The drive to Mary’s roadside stand didn’t take long. When they pulled into the parking area at the side of the road, Katy was delighted to holler a greeting when she saw her friend Liz hanging about. As soon as Katy helped Naomi unload the boxes, she was off with Liz, chatting and laughing. Ben hung around the tables laden with baked goods and a stunning display of tomatoes, squash, green beans, beets, and other freshly plucked vegetables.
“Your pies are lovely,” Mary said, panting a bit as she moved some of the piles of vegetables about to make extra room. “I knew they would be.”
“How are your boys? Any better?” Naomi asked.
“I should hope so. I’m worn down to a stick caring for them.” Mary gave a hearty chuckle.
Naomi joined in the laughter, feeling more chipper than she had in weeks. If she could sell all twelve of her pies, she would have nearly two hundred dollars by the end of the day. If that was the kind of profit she could be looking at, perhaps she should start a roadside stand of her own. But as soon as she thought of the idea, she dismissed it. How could she encroach on Mary’s territory? It wouldn’t be seemly at all.
“Do you want to go and check on them?” Naomi asked. “I can watch the stand for you.”
Mary glanced over her shoulder to where her farmhouse sat, not so far away. “I’ve put Betty in charge, but I declare that girl would lose her head given half a minute.”
Naomi chuckled. “Go on with you, then. You’ll rest easier knowing everything’s all right.”
Mary gave Naomi’s arm a squeeze. “You’re right at that. Cash box is over yonder.” She nodded her head to a small table at the back of the stand. “Prices are clear. You can price your pies as you see fit.”
“Thank you, Mary.”
Mary nodded and rushed off toward her house. Ben plopped himself down on one of the available chairs and promptly looked bored.
Katy wandered into the stand, Liz at her heels. “Mamm, can I run to Liz’s house? Did you know there’s a big toad living in one of their trees?”
“Is that right?” Naomi asked. “Well, then, I guess you better hustle on over there to see it.”
“A toad?” Ben perked up. “I wanna see it!”
Katy gave her mother a forlorn look. “Does he have to?”
“Katy Byler, of course, he has to. You mind him well and be back here before dark.”
“That’s forever!” Ben cried, jumping from his chair. “It don’t get dark till we’re in bed.”
Katy rolled her eyes and looped her arm through Liz’s. “You better not talk our ears off,” she warned Ben, looking at him over her shoulder. “And I mean it.”
Katy and Li
z took off at a quick pace with Ben scrambling to catch up. Naomi’s heart followed her children as they left. They were doing much better than before. Especially Ben. During those first weeks after the accident, the boy would hardly speak at all. He moved around the house like an empty shell, black smudges beneath his eyes. Naomi had feared for his health, pleading to God both day and night. And slowly, slowly, he’d come out of it. Now, he was almost normal again.
Normal? Would any of them ever be normal again?
Chapter Three
A white car pulled up, spitting gravel and dust. A man, looking to be in his early thirties, climbed out. He was tall and his chin was covered with the stubble of a few days of missed shaves. He wore sunglasses, and his dark hair hung casually over his forehead, skimming the tops of his ears. He had on jeans and a button-down shirt, tucked in. Naomi noted that he also wore cowboy boots.
“Hello, ma’am,” he said to Naomi n a rich drawl. He took off his sunglasses, revealing extraordinary brown eyes, flecked and ringed with gold.
Naomi faced him, feeling the energy of his presence.
“I’m wondering where a guy might find a place to stay for a few days.” He hung his sunglasses on the front of his shirt collar, and then he stretched and rolled his head as if he’d been sitting for much too long. Naomi was transfixed by his very size—his height, his wide set of shoulders, the way his long torso looked in his rumpled shirt.
For a moment, she didn’t answer, but when she saw his intent gaze on her, she realized he needed an answer.
“There’s a hotel in town. Two, actually, I think.”
“You’re right about that,” he said with a slow smile. “Thing is, they’re both full up. I guess lots of folks came in for the county fair.”
She gave a start. She’d forgotten about the fair; although, how she could have was beyond her. Plenty of the people in her district entered quilts and jams and jellies and other canned goods to be judged. Cash prizes were given, too. Truth be told, her Amish friends usually won everything.
Or so she was told, not having been in the area to attend one herself.
Again, she realized the Englischer was staring at her, and her face grew warm. “If they’re full up, you might try traveling to Linder’s Corner. It’s not too far.”
He stepped closer, and she caught the faint smell of some kind of pine cologne. “I was hoping to stay right in Hollybrook,” he said. “I’m a journalist, you see. I’m covering the fair for the magazine I write for. Across America, it’s called. Have you read it?”
She shook her head.
He laughed, and the sound was deep and warm and rich. “Didn’t reckon you had. But you ought to, you know. Some mighty good writers in there!”
She couldn’t help but smile.
“No, what I was hoping for was some kind of Bed and Breakfast.” He gazed around and then looked back at her. “Do you know of one?”
She’d heard of Bed and Breakfast places before. In fact, the Widow Maeve Bowman ran one back in Pennsylvania, right in her previous district as a matter of fact. She had obtained special permission from the bishop to install electricity and a phone with a pledge to use them only for her business. It worked out well for her. She supported herself and her five children on it.
Her mind whirled. Why couldn’t she do the same? She had the daadi haus. That could hold two sets of guests. And if necessary, she could fix up one of the upstairs rooms for an additional guest. Two, really. As her thoughts raced ahead, a hopeful smile tugged at her lips. She could do it. Surely, she could. Why, now that she thought of it, her house had once had electricity. It had been stripped out when they bought it. How much would it cost to reinstall?
“Ma’am?” the stranger questioned, a concerned look on his face.
“Ach, I’m sorry.” She straightened her posture. “How much would you be spending per night?”
His brow crinkled, and he gave her a long look. “Usually I pay anywhere from ninety dollars and up for a room.”
“Per night?” she asked, her eyebrows rising.
“Yes, ma’am. That’s normal.”
She swallowed and made a rash decision to plunge forward. “It just so happens that I take in guests.”
His lips parted. “Do you, now?”
“Jah, I do. It will cost one hundred dollars per night. Breakfast included. In truth, you can eat all your meals with us if you choose.”
“Does your husband know you take in guests?” he asked, and she saw immediately that he knew she’d never in her life taken in paying guests.
“My husband … my husband has passed.” She swallowed again, feeling the familiar lump grow in her throat. She coughed, annoyed with herself. She didn’t have time to wallow in her grief now. “You’ll be getting a true Amish experience,” she went on. “We have no electricity.”
“I’m sorry about your husband.” He was quiet for a moment. Then he continued, “How about hot water?”
“Oh yes. We have a hot water heater using propane gas.”
He was grinning now, a wide smile that covered his face. “Why, that sounds perfect.” He gave a quick glance at his car. “My computer’s battery gives me about four hours. Is there a place with electricity close by?”
She tilted her head, indicating down the road. “In town, of course.”
“I’ll be staying five nights,” he said. “Assuming you’ll have me for that long.”
Naomi clasped her hands to her chest and worked to keep her excitement at bay. Five hundred dollars. She gave him a solemn look. “That should be fine.”
“My name is Justin Moore.” He extended his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
She stared at his outstretched hand. Was she to touch this stranger now? This male stranger? Well, that’s what she’d just signed up for with her impulsive decision. She reached out and shook his hand, stunned at the last five minutes of her life. “My name is Naomi Byler. My farm is just down the road. I can’t leave right now as I’m watching the stand for my friend Mary.”
“No problem, Ms. Byler,” he said, his voice rolling over her name like a song. “If you’ll give me the address, I’ll head into town for a few supplies and then arrive in an hour or so. Will that do?”
She nodded. “Jah, that will be fine.”
He glanced over the baked goods on the table next to her. “I’ll take that apple pie,” he said, pointing to the very pie that Katy had topped off with marmalade. He reached for his wallet in his back pocket. “How much?”
“Fifteen dollars,” Naomi said, picking it up and handing it to him.
He gave her a twenty dollar bill. “Keep the change. And maybe you could serve it for dinner tonight?” he suggested. “Plus, I’ll pay extra for the meals if needed.”
She shook her head. “Nee. There’s no extra charge for that.” She smiled, thinking how surprised Ben would be to get a piece of apple pie for dinner after all.
After putting her address in his phone, Justin tipped his head in farewell, got into his car, and drove off. Naomi stood there unmoving, watching him drive away. What had she just done? Invited a stranger to spend the night at her house? She should be completely alarmed at her own nerve, but all she felt was grateful. God had given her another way to support themselves.
Her sisters and brothers back in Pennsylvania had been haranguing her for months to return home. They simply couldn’t understand her reluctance to leave Hollybrook. After all, there was nothing there for her anymore. But they were wrong. Her dat’s and her husband’s dream was there. They had worked for years to make it happen. To find just the right land at just the right price. And they’d finally found it in Hollybrook, Indiana.
She refused to leave. Truth be told, in the beginning, she had considered selling, but when she’d investigated the possibility, she’d found that the economy had changed since their purchase. In that little bit of time, the price she could ask for the land wouldn’t even cover the debt she owed.
And she wasn’t about to leave Holl
ybrook with debt hanging over her head. It would be wrong and disrespectful of her father and her husband.
No. She was going to stay, and she was going to make it work. Besides, forcing yet another change on her children wouldn’t be wise. She gazed up at the fluttering leaves of the oak tree above her head. Truth was, she couldn’t bear to leave her husband there. Alone.
Tears burned her eyes as she thought of his body, lying deep in the warm earth. Without her.
“What would I do without you?” Isaac used to ask, tweaking her long hair over her shoulders as they sat up in bed together. “You’re my life. My everything.”
When he had said such things to her, a fleeting fear would pass through her, and she would shudder. Somehow, his devotion, his love, had seemed too strong, too encompassing, as if they were too much for this world. She couldn’t explain it. Indeed, she hardly understood the feeling herself, but it was there. And now, seeing how it had turned out, how their love was killed in its prime, she wondered whether what she had felt was some kind of premonition. Some foretelling of the tragedy that was to come.
She moved to the side table and fussed with the embroidered tea towels, rearranging them to better effect. It did no good to ruminate on the past. It was the future that required all her energy and wisdom. It was the future that needed her planning and her courage.
“Mamm!” called Ben, running to the stand. “It’s true! There’s a big bumpy toad in Liz’s tree. It’s got warts all over it. It’s soooo gross!”
His brown eyes sparkled with delight. Naomi laughed and ran her hand through his sweaty bangs. “Is that so?”
“Can I get a toad?”
“I don’t think it works that way, Ben. Toads come and go as they please.”
He clasped his hands together. “I hope one comes our way. I’m gonna name it Warty.”
“Sounds like a right fine name.” Naomi peered out from the stand, glancing down the road. “Where’s your sister?”
Amish Romance Box Set: Finding Home Page 21