Shelter in the Storm

by Laurel Blount

“I’m sorry, Joseph.” Her voice was muffled against his chest. “Truly I am. But—”

  He couldn’t let her finish that sentence. “I don’t want you upset, Naomi. If you need more time, I’ll give it to you. I’ve got to go into town anyhow to speak to the real estate agent. I’ll speak to Isaac, too, and put things on hold, just for now. All right?”

  Her hands were against his shirt, and he felt her fingers stirring restlessly against the fabric. She sighed, and he held his breath, praying she wasn’t going to press him to cancel their wedding altogether.

  “All right. For now, we’ll postpone. Thank you, Joseph, for understanding.”

  He didn’t understand any of this, but he nodded anyway, relieved. “Of course.”

  Naomi drew a shaky breath and moved to step out of his arms. Before she was beyond his reach, he bent down to touch her lips lightly with his own.

  He’d kissed her to reassure himself as much as anything, but it didn’t turn out that way. This kiss felt different from the sweet ones in the buggy. And afterward, when he looked into her eyes, he saw a sadness that made his insides ache.

  “I’d best get back to the house now, Joseph,” Naomi murmured. She gave him one fleeting smile, then ducked her head. Clutching her shawl around herself, she slipped out the door.

  He looked after her for several painful heartbeats, then he squared his shoulders. He might as well hitch Titus up for the drive into Johns Mill. He’d go by to see Mona and Isaac both while he was in town, and he’d use the driving time to see if he could puzzle out what was going on with Naomi.

  Before he left the workshop, he picked up the discarded sheet and threw it back over the cradle. Picking up the shrouded form, he tucked it gently in an out-of-the-way corner.

  For the time being, at least, it wasn’t something he particularly wanted to look at.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Ever since he’d been old enough to take the buggy into Johns Mill on his own, Joseph had appreciated the quiet drive, and today was the best sort of day to make the eight-mile trip. The winter sun shone with an unseasonable warmth, there wasn’t much traffic, and Titus was in a cooperative mood.

  He was too unsettled to enjoy it. He kept replaying the conversation with Naomi, and every time he did, he worried a little more.

  He wondered who she’d talked to on the phone. He wished now he hadn’t listened to Miriam’s advice about minding his own business where Naomi’s errands were concerned. He didn’t like guessing. His mind picked at the uncertainty, like a ravel in a sweater.

  If Melvin hadn’t upset her, then who had? Somebody from back in Kentucky maybe? Could be one of her brothers had spoken against the marriage.

  Joseph turned that idea over slowly, considering it from various angles, the way he did a piece of furniture when it wasn’t coming right. It made sense. He’d likely caution Miriam or Emma the same way if one of them was thinking about marrying a man with so many troubles.

  That realization didn’t make him feel much better. Joseph shifted uneasily on the bench seat of the buggy. Had Naomi been so unsure about marrying him that it had taken only one conversation to convince her to put off the wedding? She didn’t seem that sort of woman. She was sweet-hearted, but she seemed to know her own mind well enough.

  Unless, maybe, she’d felt so sorry for him and his family that she’d agreed to marry him out of pity. That sounded like something Naomi might do. She was always so happy to be helpful, and she never minded being put to trouble for somebody else.

  Marrying a fellow out of sympathy and a desire to be useful was taking that a little far, but if any woman would do such a thing, Naomi would. But now, perhaps she was thinking better of it.

  Irritably, Joseph snapped the reins on Titus’s back. The horse flicked an annoyed ear backward and grudgingly picked up his pace.

  Only one thing was for certain sure right now. Since that phone call, everything had shifted sideways, and he needed to know why. A man couldn’t fix what he didn’t understand. Whoever Naomi had spoken to had made her uncertain enough about their marriage that it was having to be delayed a couple of long, extra weeks.

  The way Joseph figured it, that made it his business, no matter what Miriam said. He wasn’t about to push Naomi into anything. Still, maybe he shouldn’t have been so quick to back off without pressing her for some explanation. After all, thanks to Rhoda and Caleb, Joseph had already learned one hard lesson in this area. Waiting silently on the sidelines didn’t work out so well for him.

  The thought that his future with Naomi might slip away altogether hit him hard, and as he passed the Johns Mill City Limits sign, he reached a decision. As soon as he got back to the house, he’d ask Naomi about that phone call, straight out. He’d feel a lot more comfortable once he knew all the facts.

  At least, he hoped he would.

  He rolled the buggy into the parking lot behind the small realty office and pulled the hitching rope out of the back seat. He tied Titus off to the small wooden rail in a corner of the lot and headed inside.

  Mona’s office was small and, thanks to a flickering jar candle on top of a filing cabinet, smelled strongly of gardenias. The unoccupied secretary’s desk in the cramped reception area was littered with papers, and three For Sale signs with big, smiling photos of Mona and mud-caked metal legs leaned against the right-hand wall. Nobody was in sight, but a machine was whirring somewhere in the depths of the building. Joseph cleared his throat loudly.

  “Be right there,” a female voice called. A few seconds later, Mona bustled up the narrow hallway. She was studying the sheaf of papers in her hands, a pair of bright purple reading glasses perched on the end of her nose. “Sorry, honey, it’s crazy here today. My secretary’s baby got up with a fever, so she’s out, and—” Mona glanced up, and her welcoming smile drooped. “Oh! Joseph!”

  “I got a message that you needed to speak to me about the lease. Is now a good time?”

  Mona sighed. “As good a time as any, I guess.” She didn’t seem happy to see him, and that was a puzzle. The last time he’d been in this office, Mona’s plump, well-powdered face had been wreathed in smiles. “Come on back to my office, Joseph. We need to have a little talk.”

  In the tiny office, Mona gestured Joseph into a floral armchair and settled herself behind the desk. Taking off her reading glasses, she folded them with a click and set them beside a candy jar filled with wrapped peppermints. She clasped her chubby hands together on the scribbled-on calendar covering her desktop, and then finally, she spoke.

  “Joseph, honey, I don’t know but one way to tell you this. I goofed up.”

  “I don’t understand. What happened?”

  “Ian McMillan called me yesterday, and that’s when I figured it out.”

  “Ian McMillan.” Joseph recognized the name. “He’s the man who is leasing the farm. The Englisch writer studying the Amish lifestyle.”

  “Right. He phoned to make sure we knew he wanted to lease the home fully furnished.”

  Joseph nodded. “You told me that already. It’s not a problem. Apart from our livestock, we’ll be leaving most everything. We’re hoping to come back in a couple of years, so we’ve no interest in moving all our belongings.” Joseph had made arrangements to store a few special items over in the Lapps’ barn, but he’d resigned himself to leaving the rest of it for the renter’s use. He wasn’t thrilled with the idea of an Englischer pawing through his family’s belongings, but it had seemed the most sensible thing to do.

  “Right, I know. I’d told him that, but he kept going on and on about how he wanted everything left exactly as it is now, all the furniture in place just like you have it. He was being so persnickety, I got suspicious. I asked some questions, and I guess since the lease was already signed, he didn’t mind answering them. Joseph, I don’t know quite how to tell you this.” Mona plucked a folder from the teetering stack at her
elbow and centered it on the calendar, her brightly lipsticked mouth trembling. “This McMillan isn’t just any old writer. Turns out he’s the screenwriter for the movie they’re making, the one about your parents.”

  “What?” Joseph could only manage the single word. He felt as if the carpeted floor had dropped out from beneath him.

  “I’m so sorry, Joseph. I honestly had no idea! Nobody had even heard about the movie when he contacted me about leasing an Amish farm in this area. Thinking back, I should’ve guessed something. I mean, he did ask for a farm specifically on your side of the county, and when I mentioned your place coming on the market, he snapped it up so fast, it nearly made my head spin. I ought to have smelled a rat right then. Usually you can’t rent out an Amish farm in this town for love or money, not to anybody but another Amish family.” She made a helpless face. “They’re real picturesque and all, but that whole no electricity thing . . . it’s a real sticking point for regular folks. This fellow didn’t so much as blink, just said he was willing to bring his own generator and make do as best he could. That’s why I moved so quick to get him to sign the papers. I knew you didn’t want to lease it out to another Amish family, and I didn’t figure you’d get any other nibbles. I only meant to help you, but I’ve made everything worse.” She massaged her temples. “Given myself a migraine to boot. This whole situation just makes me sick!”

  It wasn’t doing him any favors, either. Joseph rubbed his chin as he tried to think this through. He hadn’t much liked the idea of leasing his home out to any Englischer, but to lease it to such a man as this . . . nee. There was no way Joseph could stomach it. He’d have to find some other way. “Cancel the lease.”

  Mona shook her head. “I wish I could. I tried to feel him out about that, but the minute he got the idea that’s where I was headed, he shut me down quick. The lease is legally binding, so if you want to get out of it, you’ll have to go see an attorney. And even then . . .” The older woman plucked a tissue out of a cardboard box perched on the corner of her desk and dabbed at her eyes. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am about this, Joseph.”

  “I do not blame you, Mona, and you mustn’t blame yourself.” Joseph meant that, but it didn’t fix the mess he was in. First the new uncertainty with Naomi, and now this.

  “That’s kind of you, honey. Here.” Mona handed him the file folder. “These are copies of the papers you and McMillan both signed. I think you should talk with an attorney and see if there’s some way to get out of the lease.” She hesitated. “I’m not sure if I should even suggest this, since I’ve already made such a mess of everything, but maybe you should go see Stephen Abbott. I’ve worked with him on closings plenty of times, and I’ve got to say, normally I don’t much care for the man. Stephen’s slicker than spit, but trust me, if anybody can find you a loophole, he can. Plus, he’s probably not too keen on this whole movie idea, either, so he might be inclined to help you out.”

  Joseph opened the folder, skimming the papers. Much as he hated the idea of consulting an Englisch lawyer, Mona was right. The lease was written in such legal jargon that he couldn’t make sense of it. He’d need an expert’s help to get out of this agreement. Stephen Abbott had as much at stake as Joseph had, maybe even more. Surely the lawyer would at least offer some advice, given the circumstances.

  He wasn’t looking forward to getting in deeper with these Englischers, though. It never paid off. Like Mona— maybe she’d meant well but look how it had turned out. Whenever these folks got involved, troubles multiplied like flies in a barnyard.

  Joseph flipped to the last page in the folder and froze for a horrified second. Then he stood up so fast that the overstuffed armchair scooted several inches backward on the carpet.

  “Joseph! My goodness, you startled me. What is it?”

  “Mona, this McMillan, does he have a copy of these papers?”

  The real estate agent’s blue eyes were wide as she stared up at him. “Well, yes, he does. Both parties get copies. Why?”

  Joseph looked back at the paper. There, neatly typed, was the forwarding address he’d provided for Mona when they’d filled everything out.

  Melvin’s farm in Ohio.

  “I’m sorry, Mona. I need to go.”

  “Joseph, wait—” Mona struggled to her feet, but Joseph was out the door before she could finish her protest.

  He strode down the street, headed for the store building and its telephone. He had to let Emma know that the moviemaking people had Melvin’s address. Thanks to Joseph, the troubles his sister had left behind in Johns Mill were about to catch up with her.

  If they hadn’t already.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Naomi picked up another apple from the table and cut it into quarters before tossing it into the big stockpot. Levonia Hochstedler had stored a crate of fall apples down in the cool of the cellar, and they’d begun to get soft and wrinkly. It was past time to deal with them, and Naomi had decided to make a small batch of apple butter.

  It was late in the day to start such a project, so she’d need to do it in stages. Apple butter took forever to cook down, and she had to keep an eye on it so that it didn’t scorch as it thickened. There wouldn’t be time enough for that today. She’d cook the apples and grind them this afternoon, then she’d store the unflavored applesauce in the refrigerator overnight. First thing in the morning, she’d set a heavy-bottomed pot on the stove and simmer the apple puree with some spices over a low heat. She’d have the butter canned before she left tomorrow afternoon.

  Since Miriam wasn’t having a good day today, she was unable to help, but Naomi didn’t mind working alone. The apples kept her hands busy while her restless mind picked over her troubles, trying to flip them around so that what she desperately wanted could somehow also be what she felt was right to do.

  She hadn’t managed it. On the one hand, she wanted to marry Joseph Hochstedler, worse than she’d ever wanted anything in her life. Standing out in the shed earlier, looking at the crib he’d fashioned for the babies he hoped they’d have together, she’d longed for the future he was offering her. And when he’d taken her in his arms and rested his cheek against the top of her head . . . well, the sweetness of that had almost been more than she could bear.

  She loved Joseph with the whole of her flawed heart. Unfortunately, that was exactly why she shouldn’t marry him.

  Love, real love, Naomi had always been taught, was not so much a feeling as a decision of the will. Love was a determination to strive after the good of others, even when it conflicted with your personal desires.

  Especially when it conflicted with your own desires.

  She didn’t know what the future held for her health. Only Gott knew that. She did know that either she’d have to undergo an expensive operation, or she’d lose her strength and die young. The doctor had made that plain enough—and if he hadn’t, her difficulties going up and down the cellar steps with an apron full of apples today would have done so.

  Perhaps if the circumstances were different, she could have snatched a bit of happiness. Joseph wasn’t the sort of man to step aside from difficulties. He’d offered her marriage, and he’d keep his word, if she wished it, no matter what her health troubles meant for him financially or personally. For a little space of time, at least, Naomi could have everything she’d dreamed of.

  More, even.

  But that would be selfish. Naomi chucked an apple quarter into the pot so hard that water and vinegar splashed onto the table.

  She blotted the spill with the dishtowel she had tossed over one shoulder and sighed. The idea of marrying Joseph—of having his strong shoulder to lean on in the teeth of the unexpected storm whirling around her was awfully appealing, but that wouldn’t be love, would it? She couldn’t saddle this gut man who was already bearing up under a mountain of troubles with the additional burden of a sickly wife. At best, Naomi would bring along a dowry of
medical expenses he could ill afford; at worst, she’d be yet another source of grief to a family already reeling under it.

  All afternoon she’d been hoping she could find some way around it, but no matter how many times she turned the matter over in her mind, she came up with the same conclusion. She had to find some gentle way to break off their engagement.

  She dabbed her eyes with the rough material of her sleeve. She wouldn’t cry over this. Not yet, not here. Later, maybe, when she was safely alone in Katie’s spare room, but not now. If she started now, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to stop, and Joseph was likely to be back from town any minute.

  Please, Gott, help me. Help me to accept Your will in this. Give me Your peace, and the strength to do what I should do.

  Thirty minutes later, the apples had softened. She was pressing the fruit through the hand-cranked mill into a waiting bowl when she heard the soft rumble of the buggy rolling up the drive.

  It seemed a lifetime before Joseph came into the warm kitchen, accompanied by a blast of chilly air. He shut the door, taking his hat off, as he always did, but instead of hanging it on the peg, he stood looking at her, holding it in front of him. Naomi glanced at him, her eyes catching on that little cowlick of hair that always stood up on his forehead, and her knees went weak.

  He would have been such a fine husband, this man.

  “Naomi.” Joseph’s voice sounded strained. “I have some news.” He looked around the room before returning his gaze to hers. “Where is Miriam?”

  “Upstairs. Asleep, I think. She’s had a hard morning, and she had to take one of her pills.”

  The sadness in Joseph’s eyes deepened, but he nodded. “We can talk well enough here, then.”

  Naomi’s busy hands went idle as she searched his face for clues. Whatever news he’d brought home with him, it wasn’t good. “Is alles awreit, Joseph? What did Mona need to talk to you about? Is there a problem with the lease on the farm?”