Amish Romance Box Set: Finding Home

by Brenda Maxfield

  Annoyed with herself, she fished another towel out of the basket and hung it up. A faint breeze rippled the fabric. If that kept up, it wouldn’t take long for the clothes to dry. She heard a horse approach, and she turned around in time to see Mary coming up the drive in her pony cart.

  Naomi left her laundry basket where it sat and hurried to meet her friend.

  “Mary! How nice of you to come. How are your boys getting along?”

  Mary climbed from her cart and threw the reins around the hitching post. “Ach! Back to themselves, they are. Now Betty is sick. Dear Lord, I knew it was coming.” She patted her chest. “But I’m fit as a fiddle, make no mistake.”

  “Can you sit awhile?”

  “Would like to,” Mary answered. “I came to give you the rest of the pie money. Thank you again for helping me out by baking those pies for my road stand.” She dug in her apron and pulled out a handful of cash. “I’m sorry I didn’t get this to you sooner.”

  Naomi took the money. “No need to be sorry. I was grateful for the opportunity.”

  “You made one hundred and fifty dollars, plus whatever you got for that first pie you sold.”

  “This is a big help, Mary. Thank you.”

  The two women climbed the steps to the porch and sat in the rockers. Mary was there only a minute before Naomi sprang back up. “Ach, where are my manners? Would you like some lemonade? It’s already quite hot out.”

  Mary nodded, rocking slowly. “Sounds nice.”

  Naomi scurried inside to get two glasses of lemonade. When she returned, Mary’s eyes were closed, and she was no longer rocking. Had the woman fallen asleep? Naomi smiled and sat quietly beside her.

  “I ain’t sleepin’ if that’s what you think,” Mary murmured.

  “You go right ahead and sleep if you want to.”

  Mary’s brown eyes popped open. “I’m fine. A little catnap does wonders.”

  Naomi laughed. “Well, that catnap was about four minutes long.”

  Mary shrugged. “T’was enough.”

  The two women sipped their drinks and sat in companionable silence until Naomi remembered her decision regarding Zachariah’s story. “You were going to tell me about Zachariah King,” she said, questioning if such talk would classify as gossip. She chewed the inside of her lip, wondering if she was displeasing God.

  “That I was,” Mary said, sitting up straighter. “Such a nice man, Zachariah.” She looked at Naomi and raised her right brow. “Any interest there?”

  Naomi blushed. Back in Pennsylvania where Naomi was from, courting and love interests were not discussed. Were things different in Hollybrook?

  Mary slapped her own leg and let out a chuckle. “I can see by your face that you aren’t going to divulge a thing. No matter. You’re part of the district now and should know about the people.”

  Naomi nodded, relieved Mary wasn’t going to push the matter. Truth was, Naomi had no idea whether there was interest there. Her heart beat harder when Zach was around, but she was pretty sure it was because the man made her nervous. He certainly seemed ill at ease around her. She stopped rocking, and her thoughts sharpened. Until the last day or two. Zach hadn’t seemed ill at ease in the least when he’d fixed her roof or when he’d helped with the sign.

  “Naomi?” Mary questioned.

  Naomi gave a start. “What? Oh, I’m sorry. What were you saying?”

  “You have a new sign I see.”

  “Jah. It’s crude, but it’ll do.”

  “I hear Jacob Westwork is a master at working with wood. He could make you one.”

  Naomi thought about the money she’d just gotten from Mary and knew it wouldn’t be enough. “Perhaps. But in the meantime, it’s acceptable, don’t you think?”

  Mary shrugged. “Certainly. But if you change your mind, I’ll put in a word.”

  Naomi took another sip of lemonade. “Thank you.”

  “Now, about Zachariah.” Mary’s eyes got a faraway look in them. “He was a bit younger than me in school. A bright boy, I remember that. But quiet. Never said much. Anyway, he was the youngest of a parcel of children. Not coddled, mind you. Truth be told, I think his mother was downright exhausted when he came along. Pretty much raised himself.” She laughed.

  Naomi nodded, visualizing a young Zach keeping to himself amidst a huge family. A ping of sadness ran through her; her own family would never be large, but she did have the two children, and she was grateful. She craned her neck and saw Ben and Katy playing on the tire swing out back. She’d wanted more than two children. In fact, she’d hoped to have another on the way by that summer. But now, with Isaac gone, she was relieved it hadn’t happened. She was barely surviving with trying to take care of the children she did have. And Isaac would never have laid eyes on his third child.

  “When Zach was a teen, he didn’t really participate in his rumspringa time. He just kept working the farm with his dat. But he was sweet on Marcy Blaeckenship. That girl was something else! New to the district and full of spice, that one.” Mary shook her head.

  “Zach fell hard for her. Took her to Sunday youth singings a couple times. Before she began her rumspringa, that is.”

  Naomi leaned forward in her chair. She could tell where this was heading.

  “Marcy went a bit crazy. She would disappear for days on end. Like I said, Zach was always a quiet sort, but when Marcy was gone, he wouldn’t speak at all. At least in public. I can’t vouch for him at home. When I’d see him at church, he was like a closed door.”

  Mary reached out and touched Naomi’s arm. “It was the worry. He was worried sick for her. With cause, too, as it turned out.”

  “How sad,” Naomi said, imagining how Zach must have felt.

  “Marcy’s parents were frantic. I know they went to the bishop for help, but there wasn’t much to be done. Wait it out, I suppose. And pray. I think everyone in the district prayed for the girl. When she’d swoop back into Hollybrook, though, she’d make some of the people so upset.”

  Mary shook her head and sighed. “She flaunted herself, and it got so bad that folks were hiding their kinner when she’d come around.” Mary rocked hard in her chair. “But Zach stayed true. I know he attempted to see her when she was here. Sometimes, she’d calm down, too. Put her Amish clothes back on. Attend a Sunday meeting here and there. She’d sit with the women, her back straight as a board. But there was something in her eyes, something wild and proud.”

  “What did Zachariah’s parents say about it all?”

  Mary sighed. “They wanted to send Zach off to relatives in Ohio, but he talked them out of it. I think he figured if he left, there would be no one to bring Marcy back to the church.”

  The two women fell silent. Naomi turned her head and gazed out into her fields. She couldn’t see Zach, but she knew he was out there somewhere, working. “That’s so sad. Whatever happened to her? To her family?”

  Mary threw out her hand in a dismissive wave. “The whole family packed up and left. Just like that. It was too much to bear.”

  “And Marcy?”

  “Who knows?” Mary clucked her tongue. “Although, Zach probably knows. Thing is, I believe they were engaged.”

  Naomi’s brows shot up. “Really?”

  “Jah. Pretty sure. Of course, we keep such news quiet around here—despite my teasing you—but I think they were. No other reason for Zach to react in such a way.”

  “Maybe he loved her.”

  “He loved her all right.” Mary grimaced. “The man’s still single, ain’t he?”

  Naomi nodded, still grasping what the whole experience must have done to Zach.

  “Never saw him interested in anyone since.” Mary leaned close and laid her hand on Naomi’s knee. “Till you, maybe.”

  Naomi jerked back against the rocker. “Nee. He’s not interested in me.”

  “You sure about that, Naomi Byler? You sure?” Mary didn’t wait for an answer. She set her empty glass on the small table by her chair and heaved her
self to her feet. “I need to get back to my brood,” she announced. “Been gone long enough. Thank you for the lemonade.”

  Naomi stood, blinking at the rapid end to the conversation.

  Mary huffed down the steps, grabbed the reins, and climbed into the pony cart. “Mind my words, dear friend.” She gave Naomi a smile and a nod before she slapped the reins on the pony and went on her way.

  Naomi watched her leave. She ran her finger around the top rim of her glass, over and over, as her mind circled what she now knew. Oh, Zachariah. How he must have hurt. And it must have gone deep, or he would be married by now and have a passel of children. Absently, she set down her glass and walked back out to her laundry basket.

  Was Zachariah interested in her? And why? She was nothing special. She bent down and grabbed a wadded-up sheet from the basket. She shook it out and flung it over the line, clipping it in place with three clothespins. A gust of wind blew the sheet back into her face, and she laughed as it softly whipped her cheeks.

  She heard the crunch of gravel and a car motor behind her. She turned and saw a pale yellow pick-up truck approach her porch. She hurried to greet whomever it was.

  A tired-looking woman, with graying brown hair rolled down her window. “Is this the Bed and Breakfast?” She pointed over her shoulder. “We saw the sign.”

  Excitement surged through Naomi. “It is. Would you like to stay?”

  The woman let out a groan. “Thank God! We’re so exhausted.” She gestured with her thumb to the man driving. He looked older than she was; his hair had already turned completely white. “My dumb husband managed to get us lost about five times today so far. We’re supposed to be miles closer to Chicago by now.” She gave a disgruntled sigh.

  “When are you going to let up?” the man interjected from the driver’s seat. “This fine woman don’t need to hear your griping and fussing.”

  The woman pursed her lips. Naomi stepped back, wondering what kind of guests these two would be. But she wasn’t in a position to be picky, and they seemed safe enough.

  “I need to explain something,” Naomi said, putting on her friendliest smile. “This is a real Amish experience, so there isn’t any electricity. However, there is a hot shower and good home-cooked meals.”

  “No Internet then?” the woman asked.

  Naomi braced herself. “No.”

  “Good!” she exclaimed. “This guy sticks his face into his tablet, and I don’t see a lick of him all evening long.” She glared at her husband. “Hear that? Now we can have a proper conversation.”

  The man rolled his eyes, and Naomi felt pity for him. Who would want a conversation with her?

  “How much a night?” the woman asked.

  “One hundred dollars.”

  “And that includes some meals?”

  “It does. I’ll be serving supper at six.”

  The woman was already opening her door. When she stepped out, Naomi was surprised at how short she was. Short or not, she slammed her door with enough force to shake the truck. “Get them bags, Harv,” she ordered. She turned to Naomi. “Name’s Clara. That there is Harv.”

  Naomi nodded. “Nice to meet you. Let me show you to your lodgings.”

  “Don’t we stay in this here old house?” Clara asked, her eyes roaming over the place.

  “Nee. You’ll be staying in the daadi haus out back.”

  “The what house?”

  “I’ll show you.” Naomi smiled and led the woman around the house. She heard the other truck door slam. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Harv lugging two bags and scrambling to catch up.

  “Shall we wait for your husband?” Naomi asked.

  Clara made a face. “I guess. Boy, has he slowed down in the last few years.”

  “I’m coming,” Harv called out, huffing a bit.

  When he caught up, Naomi took them up the steps and into the daadi haus. Clara looked about, her face lighting up. “Why, this is downright cozy.” She walked to the lantern on the table. “We used to use lanterns just like this when we went camping. Remember that, Harv?”

  Harv dropped both bags on the floor with a resounding thud. “Yes, Clara, I remember.”

  Naomi walked toward the bedroom and knew she had to make a quick decision. When Justin Moore had stayed, she’d put him in what used to be her children’s room. She couldn’t abide having him sleep in the same bed where she and Isaac had slept. It had seemed wrong, somehow. But now, with a couple, how could she offer them the room with the two single beds when there was a perfectly good room with a double bed.

  She swallowed past the growing lump in her throat and resolutely directed them toward her former bedroom. She pushed open the door, and her breath caught as she once again looked at the familiar space. Images of Isaac filled her mind, but she stubbornly forged ahead. “Here is your room,” she said, forcing a smile.

  Clara looked about and cackled like one of the hens in the coop outside. “Oh, honey, don’t you have a room with two beds? Harv and I don’t sleep together.”

  Naomi’s eyes widened, and she struggled not to show her relief. “I do. Right in here.” She took them to her children’s room. “There are two mighty comfortable beds right in here.”

  Clara plunked down on the bed closest the window. “I’ll sleep here. Harv, you can take that one.”

  Harv nodded, his cheeks reddening.

  Naomi had never seen a wife treat her husband with such disrespect. It was bordering the scandalous. Was this how Englischers related to one another in marriage? The closest thing she’d ever witnessed to this was back in Pennsylvania when Ona Helmuth had harshly scolded her husband in front of the whole district for forgetting to bring his tools to a barn raising. Everyone had looked away in shame. Such an uncomfortable feeling. Walter Helmuth’s face had turned beet red, and he’d hustled her right back into their buggy and took off. When he’d returned to help, with his tools, Ona was nowhere in sight.

  “So, dinner is at six?”

  “Jah, supper is at six.”

  Clara patted the quilt she was sitting on. “Don’t we have to sign some type of register or something?”

  Naomi’s mind whirled. She had no register. “Jah, of course,” she said, “but you can sign it when you come in to eat.” She figured she could use the back portion of her ledger book for a register. She grimaced. What else didn’t she have in place for this new business?

  “Thank you kindly, ma’am,” Harv said. “We’ll be on time to eat. Don’t you worry.”

  Naomi smiled. “I’m not worried at all. Now, you have fresh towels in the bathroom. Let me know if you need anything else.”

  “Is it all right if I leave my truck where it is? Or do you want me to move it elsewhere?”

  Naomi considered that. “It’s fine for now. You’re tired. Why not take a rest?”

  He looked relieved. “Don’t mind if I do.”

  “Now, Harv, don’t sleep away the rest of the day,” Clara said.

  Naomi took her leave, shutting the screen door gently behind her. Land’s sake, what must living with that woman be like? She grinned just thinking about it.

  “What’s so funny?”

  She flinched and looked to her left, seeing Zachariah approach. “My guests. Ach, it’s nothing.”

  “I saw the truck pull in. Made quite a cloud of dust.”

  “That it did.” She gave a quick glance to her damp laundry, some still in the basket. “I hope it didn’t dirty my laundry.”

  He fell into step beside her, and her mind returned to all she’d learned about him. He paused at the clothesline as if waiting for her to say something. She looked at him, but all she could think of was Marcy and how the girl had hurt him.

  Zach’s expression turned puzzled, and his eyes narrowed. “I saw Mary came by earlier. She been talking about me?”

  Naomi flinched. Were her thoughts written so clearly on her face? “What do you mean?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing. Just a look in your eyes.”


  She licked her lips, unaccustomed to such familiar talk with a man who wasn’t family. She certainly wouldn’t have expected such a discussion with Zachariah. Up until the previous week, he’d hardly said two words to her.

  “Jah, Mary came by,” she blurted and then clamped her mouth shut. What was she planning to say?

  He nodded slowly, and a knowing came over his face. “So, she told you, then?”

  Naomi took a deep breath but didn’t respond. Zach continued to look at her, his clear blue eyes watching her, assessing her. Naomi’s heart raced. She bent down to grab another piece of laundry. She put a couple clothespins in her mouth and set about her work, trying to pretend he wasn’t there; trying to pretend that his presence wasn’t filling the air around her.

  It didn’t work. His nearness was like a physical force, surrounding her, making it difficult to function properly. Finally, after clumsily clipping three of Ben’s shirts to the line, she dared glance over at him. He met her gaze and said one word. “Marcy.”

  Naomi dropped her hands to her sides. “Jah.”

  With a sharp inhale, he looked up at the sky for a moment then back to her. “If you’d lived here your whole life, you’d already know the story. So, I guess no harm done.”

  “I’m sorry, Zach.”

  “For what?”

  “For the way Marcy treated you. For the way it all worked out.”

  His jaw tightened, and she wondered if she’d gone too far. “She’s living in Cleveland now.”

  Naomi’s eyes widened. “Cleveland?”

  “She was in Chicago for a while, but she followed some guy to Cleveland.”

  “So, she’s married? Has a family?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know if she’s married. She has two children, though.”

  Naomi reached out to touch his arm but thought better of it. “I’m sorry.”

  “She writes me. Not often. Maybe every year or two.”

  That was surprising news. Why would Marcy continue to write him unless … unless, she was still in love with him. Was Marcy hoping for something further from Zach? And did Zach write her back? Naomi wanted to know so badly that she had to bite her lower lip to keep from asking. It wasn’t her business. No matter how she looked at it; it wasn’t her business at all.