“I heard of it, the spray-painting.”
Isaac looked relieved that he wouldn’t have to explain. “The sheriff is concerned that he won’t have the manpower required to prevent such things from happening once news of this film gets out. He and I will do what we can to discourage the commissioners from allowing the production company to work here, but we doubt we will succeed. Even if we do, there seems to be no way to stop the making of the movie itself, whether it is filmed in Johns Mill or elsewhere. Sheriff Townsend says we must prepare for . . . intrusions, either way.”
Intrusions. Joseph’s muscles tensed. Miriam couldn’t go through what had happened at Miller’s again. “When will all this start?”
“Soon. That’s what they said at the meeting, the men from the studio. It will take them some time to get organized, but they are moving as quickly as they can, making preparations. They plan to announce the movie in only a matter of weeks. All this attention that confuses and troubles us, it excites them. They see money in it, and they want to move forward before the interest dies back down.” The bishop shook his head, looking out over the back fields. “Two innocent people were murdered by a troubled boy who’d probably seen one too many of the movies they make. So what do they do? They try to profit from it by making another one, before this situation is even put to rest. Such thinking I will never understand.”
“Nee, it is not something easily understood.”
“Joseph, perhaps it would be better to send Miriam to stay with Emma, at least for a while. Your uncle’s community is more sheltered, and likely Miriam could stay there unbothered.”
Joseph was silent, not knowing how to explain that his sour uncle would be none too enthusiastic about taking another refugee niece into his home. Melvin would agree to it if Joseph pressed him, because it was expected that he would support his family in a time of difficulty, but he would do so with ill grace.
Joseph didn’t want to put sensitive Miriam into such a situation. He was already none too happy about Emma living in that household. He realized with a pang that this movie business meant that Emma wouldn’t be coming home anytime soon, either.
And that wasn’t the worst of it, he realized suddenly. His heart fell hard and deep, like a rock into a well.
Isaac was still waiting for some reply, so Joseph murmured, “I will think on it.”
The bishop nodded, satisfied. “Ja. Think and seek Gott’s guidance. That is always the wisest thing to do.”
The back door opened, and Rhoda came down the steps, holding carefully to the handrail as if she were three times her age. When she reached the bottom, she looked up, and her gaze caught with Joseph’s. She froze, her face pale and blank.
“Come along, Rhoda,” her father commanded gently. “We’d best be getting back home. You’ve packing to do yet.” He nodded to Joseph and went to climb into the buggy.
Rhoda walked around the side of the buggy, and Joseph offered her his hand to help her up. It was an automatic courtesy, one he’d offered to his mother and sisters countless times, but Rhoda hesitated one telling second before placing her hand in his.
“I’m sorry, Joseph,” she whispered in the scant second their heads were close together. “Please forgive me.”
He wasn’t sure exactly what Rhoda meant. Was she asking his forgiveness for her slip of the tongue yesterday or for not being able to keep Caleb among them?
It didn’t matter. Either way his answer was the same.
“There is no need.” He held her hand steady as she climbed slowly into the seat. “May Gott go with you, schwesdre.”
Sister. Rhoda looked down at him, and he saw a glimmer of relief in her sad eyes. When she answered, her voice was stronger. “I know He will. You take gut care, Joseph.”
After Isaac’s carriage had rattled away, Joseph remained standing where he was. A painful heaviness settled over him, feeling unpleasantly familiar.
He’d felt the same when he’d learned Rhoda had promised to marry Caleb—as if a bright doorway had slammed shut just in front of his nose, leaving him alone in a smothering darkness.
He’d had to accept the truth then, just as he had to now. Caleb had been officially set outside of the Plain community. Unless he reversed himself, something Joseph had never known his brother to do, he would remain separated from his family for life. It felt like another death, that, and as frustrated as Joseph had been with Caleb, the fresh loss cut deep.
Now, with this movie, Englischers were brewing more trouble for his family. He’d be mired in the muck of it for years, from what Isaac had told him. That was bad enough, but it went further.
He couldn’t ask anyone to face such a future with him. The quiet hope that he’d been nursing since Naomi had crept into his heart would have to be set aside. No sensible woman would consider marrying a man who was dragging such a load of manure behind him anyhow. And by the time this was finally over, if it ever was, it would almost certainly be too late, just as it had been with Rhoda.
The spicy smell of frying sausage drifted out from the kitchen. Naomi would be nearly done cooking breakfast, and she’d be expecting him. She’d sit down at the table with him, likely, as she’d done every morning for weeks now. She always sipped a cup of tea while he ate, a gentle smile rounding her cheeks whenever his eyes met hers.
Suddenly the thought of eating made a choking bile rise up in the back of his throat. Instead of going inside, he turned and made his way blindly down the sloping yard toward the old dairy.
Chapter Eighteen
Naomi sighed as she navigated the last of the steps, balancing the heavy tray in her hands. Miriam had eaten next to nothing, and the kitchen was as empty as it had been when she’d gone upstairs. The place she’d set at the table was still undisturbed, meaning Joseph hadn’t come in for his breakfast. He was running very late this morning.
She set the tray beside the sink and tiptoed to scan the yard. Joseph was nowhere in sight.
She’d peeked out of the upstairs window earlier and seen the bishop’s buggy pulling up. What a relief that had been—until Rhoda had come in and said her goodbyes. Miriam had wept, and Naomi’s joy had deflated into concern.
Rhoda hadn’t explained much, only that she would be going away for a while. Likely, she was trying not to upset Miriam any more than she had to, but Naomi knew there must be more to it. Katie had hinted as much last night, something she’d seen or heard pass between Joseph and Rhoda when she’d gone for the buggy. Naomi had felt far too tired to listen to Katie’s gossip, and she’d cut her cousin off in mid-sentence. Now, she wished she’d been more patient.
Naomi scraped Miriam’s uneaten sausage, eggs, and toast into a bowl to take out to the chickens, feeling uneasy. The fact that Joseph hadn’t come in for breakfast was worrisome. Born and bred to the rigid rhythms of milking schedules, the man followed his routine as faithfully as the sun.
Naomi reached for her bonnet and shawl. She’d run these leftovers out to the chickens a little earlier than she’d planned. If she happened to bump into Joseph while she was out in the yard, well, that would just be a happy accident.
The delighted hens clucked greedily over the scraps, even though Joseph had already filled their hanging metal feeder with scratch and layer pellets. He’d finished the chores then. So where was he?
Naomi collected the warm brown eggs from the nesting boxes, even though there were only half so many as there would be a few hours later in the morning. She nestled them in the empty bowl and carried them back to the house.
Pausing by the steps, she glanced in the direction of the woodworking shop. She could check there before she went inside to finish the dishes. Normally Joseph didn’t go out to the shop until after breakfast, but maybe today he’d changed his mind. She set the eggs carefully on the top step and started across the yard.
But when she eased open the creaky door, the little lean-to was
empty and still as neat as when Joseph had tidied it the previous night. He’d not been in here yet this morning.
Naomi lingered inside the door for a moment, inhaling the sharp odor of freshly sawn wood. Such a gut smell, she thought, bringing to mind both old things and new. It was the scent she most associated with Joseph.
She liked it very much.
Naomi stepped back into the yard, closing the door carefully behind herself. Hands on her hips, she surveyed the farm. Well, wherever Joseph had vanished to, Naomi couldn’t trouble herself about it any longer. She ought not leave Miriam alone in the house for very long, even though the only thing the other girl seemed to want to do right now was huddle in her bed.
Naomi was halfway to the house when a flicker of movement caught her eye. She peered in the direction of the old dairy. Somebody was definitely moving around in there. It must be Joseph, although what he was doing inside that unused building was anybody’s guess.
Naomi paused for only a second before turning down the path leading to the rectangular stone building. She wasn’t being nosy, not really. She needed to check with Joseph about breakfast, didn’t she? She couldn’t keep it warm on the stove forever.
The door leading into the building was huge, but it swung on its hinges with only a little push. It creaked loudly, but Joseph, standing with his back to her, surveying the long line of empty milking stanchions, didn’t turn his head at the noise. He stood still as a fencepost, and something about the set of his shoulders made a cold dread settle in Naomi’s breast.
“Joseph? Is everything all right? Your breakfast’s waiting.”
“This is a gut place.” Joseph spoke without turning his head. “Strong built, made to last. It served our family well for a hundred years, and it would do another hundred, with a little scrubbing.”
“A lot of scrubbing.” Naomi wrinkled her nose, eyeing the cobwebs hanging in the corners and the mouse droppings on the floor. “But, ja. It could be made right easily enough. Are you thinking of reopening the dairy, then?”
“I’d figured to.” Joseph drew in a deep, slow breath and released it. “Once things got straightened out, I was going to study up on it and see if I could meet the Englischers’ milk regulations somehow without going broke. But not now. I’m going to have to let it go. It’s a shame.” He touched the wall with one hand. “It’s a gut place. It should be in use.”
The sadness in his voice cut at Naomi’s heart, but she thought she understood. Lots of Plain folks were getting out of farming-related businesses, and looking for other ways to make a living, just as Joseph’s daed had been forced to do.
An idea occurred to her. “You could turn this into a woodworking shop, maybe. It would be a real good space for that.”
Joseph didn’t seem to have heard her. Naomi edged closer until she was standing behind him. She reached out to touch his arm, then stopped herself at the last minute.
“What is it, Joseph? What’s truly troubling you?”
He drew in a slow breath and glanced at her over his shoulder. “Did Rhoda tell you that Caleb’s being placed under the ban?”
Ah. So it was that. “Nee,” she answered quietly. “She didn’t. Miriam was already so upset about Rhoda going away . . . I suppose she didn’t want to add to it.”
Joseph’s throat flexed as he swallowed hard. “Ja, of course Miriam will be upset. This will set her back even more.” He shook his head sadly.
“Maybe for a little while, but Miriam will regain the ground she’s lost, you’ll see. You mustn’t give up hope, Joseph. We will all pray that Gott will turn Caleb’s heart quickly.”
Joseph made an irritated noise. “Gott will have to do that if it gets done, and even then, I doubt it will be quick. Caleb listens to no one but himself, and his anger holds its heat longer than most. The Lord will have His work cut out for Him with my bruder, for sure, but I must leave it with Him. I’ve got more than enough trouble to manage—and from what Isaac told me, there’s more coming.”
“What do you mean? What did Isaac say?”
“The Englischers are making a movie about what happened, and they want to film it here. So things aren’t going to get any better, Naomi, not for a while, at least.”
She listened as he recounted what Isaac had told him. Her heart sank lower with each word until she could barely breathe.
“Oh, Joseph.” Nothing she could think of to say seemed near strong enough. “I am so sorry to hear this.”
He turned his head then and looked at her over his shoulder, his eyes meeting her own. “I am sorry, too, Naomi. I had finally begun to hope for . . .” He broke off, his gaze tracing her face, lingering oddly—and sweetly—on her lips. “Better things,” he finished finally.
Joseph’s voice was matter-of-fact, and the words were simple, but that hungry sorrow in his eyes made her insides tremble strangely. What exactly, Naomi wondered with a sudden, desperate fierceness, was it that Joseph had been hoping for?
He turned his head away. “This is not what I wanted, but hard times make for hard choices. I’m leasing out the farm and moving up to Ohio with Miriam.”
“Oh!” That one word was all she could manage. Joseph was leaving Johns Mill, Miriam, too. All this—all this work and purpose and goodness was ending, and she would have to go back to Kentucky, to her brothers and their kind, impatient wives.
The realization hit her like a rush of icy air, as if someone had snatched off the warm blanket she’d been snuggled under, leaving her vulnerable. She shivered, crossing her arms over her chest and digging her fingers into the flesh of her arms.
“I can work at Melvin’s dairy,” Joseph was saying. “I’ll get a small house someplace nearby. Emma can tend to Miriam during the day. That’ll get her out of Melvin’s house, and hopefully the rent of this place will give us enough to live on. Melvin’s pay won’t be much, and he’ll expect me to work for less anyhow because I’m family. I can do some woodworking on the side to make ends meet. We’ll get by, I expect.”
“Do you think Miriam will do all right there? Isn’t Oak Point a little”—Naomi struggled for a kinder way to say dreary, or miserable—“more strict than what you all are used to?”
“It is. It’s not such a pretty place as Johns Mill, nor so friendly. But that’s the kind of place we need because it doesn’t attract so many tourists. As long as Emma and I are both with her, I think Miriam will do all right. We should have a quiet time there.” He sighed. “If you can manage on your own today, I’ll drive into town and speak with a real estate agent. I’ve no love for the idea of involving Englischers in this, but I don’t want to lease the farm to a Plain family, not with everything going on. It wouldn’t be right to pass our troubles on to others.”
Naomi heard the weary disgust in Joseph’s voice, knew how much he’d hate the prospect of turning his beloved farm over to people he couldn’t bring himself to trust. And yet because it was the right thing to do for his family and the community, he’d force himself to set his own feelings aside. She nodded miserably.
“I’ll manage all right. Oh!” A memory stirred. “That woman who helped Miriam at the café, she was a real estate agent. She gave me her card, and I put it in my bag. She was a real freindlich person, Joseph. Maybe you should go see her.”
“That one who thumped the fellow with her pocketbook?” A smile flickered across Joseph’s lips. “Ja, I will talk to her. If I must deal with an Englischer, I’d rather deal with her. Go fetch her card, please, and I’ll hitch up. I’d best get this moving quickly.”
“Mona seemed like she’d be a real good manager. Explain things to her, and I’m sure she’ll figure something out.” Naomi straightened her shoulders. “There will be a lot of work to do, getting the house ready. You must tell me what you want done, and I’ll get started on it.”
“Nee. Such heavy work will be too much for you, especially as fast as I’ll need
it finished. I’ll ask help of the church. Many hands will make the work lighter.”
“It wouldn’t be too much for me.” She hated the idea of the well-meaning church members descending on this home, as they doubtlessly would once Joseph made his request, sleeves rolled up and ready to work. They’d be here from early to late, until the house was emptied and ready for its new occupants.
She’d have no more quiet times with only Joseph and Miriam, no more opportunities to pretend, for this last, little while, that these precious folks were her own to look after.
“I don’t want you overdoing,” Joseph stated flatly. “I know you are stronger since your operation, but all the work you’ve been doing for us has tired you. I can see it. Your face is paler than it was when I first saw you again, and I’ve noticed you stopping to lean on the furniture when you think I’m not watching. I won’t have you stretching yourself any thinner. Besides, this way we can wait until just before we leave to start packing up, which will keep things normal for Miriam as long as possible. This will be very upsetting to her, and I’d rather you stay close beside her while all the work is going on. She’s comforted by you. Will you do that for me?”
I would do anything for you. The admission almost slipped past her lips; she had to bite down hard to keep the words in. “Of course.”
“Denki.” He cleared his throat roughly. “You have been a comfort to me, too, Naomi. I am thankful for your help, and I will not forget it.”
She would not forget, either. Not ever, what joy it had been to be here, to help this kind man. “Du bisht welcome.”
“I’ll let you know when we’re leaving as soon as I know myself. I reckon you’ll need to make arrangements to go back to Kentucky, won’t you?”
“Ja.” Naomi forced a smile. “I suppose so.”
Joseph didn’t smile back. “I will miss you, Naomi.”
Shelter in the Storm Page 16