The Storekeeper's Daughter (6 page)

“I know you didn’t do it on purpose,” Caleb said, forcing a smile. He’d never admit it, but the welt stung like crazy.

Timmy made another pass, this time right between Caleb’s legs. He leaned over and grabbed the goat’s back legs, and the animal hollered like a stuck pig.

“It’s off to the goat corral for you.” Caleb lifted the squirming animal into his arms and trudged toward the pen. If this were any indication of how the rest of his day was going to be, he might as well take the afternoon off. Only trouble was, he had tons of work to do. Now, thanks to Timmy the goat, he’d have his daed’s buggy to fix, as well.

“You’d better let your mamm take a look at that shoulder. Don’t want to chance infection,” Pop called as Caleb headed to his buggy shop.

Caleb shook his head and kept walking. “I’ll be okay. It can’t be any worse than the bletschings I used to get when I was a boy.”

As Caleb rolled out of bed the next morning, a stinging pain sliced through his left shoulder. He winced as he lifted one arm to slip on his cotton shirt. “Should have asked Mom to put some salve on it last night,” he muttered as he stepped into his trousers.

A short time later, he found his mother in the kitchen, slicing an apple crumb pie. His younger sisters, Irma and Lettie, were busy setting the table for breakfast.

“How ya feelin’ this morning?” Mom questioned. “Your daed never said a thing about the goat gettin’ out and him hitting you with the buggy whip ’til we went to bed last night.”

Caleb shrugged. “I’ll live, and Pop didn’t do it on purpose.”

“Of course not.” Mom pushed a wayward strand of grayish blond hair back into place and pulled out a chair. “Have yourself a seat, and I’ll put some peroxide on that welt. No doubt it’s hurtin’ this morning.”

Caleb’s manly pride called for denial, but he knew he’d be miserable all day if he didn’t get the pain to subside. Besides, as Pop had said yesterday, it could become infected if left untreated.

He undid his shirt and slipped it over his shoulder.

Irma, who was nine, let out a low whistle. “Ach, my! That sure looks elendich.”

“Never mind how pitiful it looks,” their mother scolded. “Run over to the cupboard and get some peroxide and salve.”

Irma and Lettie both stood near Caleb, each of them peering at his wound as though they’d never seen anything like it before.

“Hurry and get the salve,” Mom persisted as she gently washed the welt with a damp piece of cloth.

Irma trotted across the room and returned a few seconds later with both salve and peroxide.

The cold, stinging contact of the cleansing liquid caused Caleb to let out a little yelp.

“Sorry, but it’s really red, and this should keep it from getting infected.” Mom allowed it to dry a few minutes, then she slathered some healing salve on the area. “We should probably cover it with a bandage, but I don’t think we’ve got one large enough.”

Caleb slipped his shirt back in place. “That’s okay. It’ll be fine now.
Danki
, Mom.”

Her dark eyes held a note of sympathy. “Haven’t had to tend a wound on my oldest boy in ever so long. Still hurts me as much as it does you, ya know.”

“That’s what Pop always says when he gives me a bletsching,” Lettie said, wrinkling her freckled nose.

Mom patted the young girl’s arm. “It’s true. Neither your daed nor I take any pleasure in doling out punishment.”

“You punish us ’cause you love us—that’s what Pop has told me many times,” Irma interjected.

“And don’t you ever forget it,” Caleb said, giving his little sister a tickle under her chin.

She giggled and scampered away from the table.

Caleb had just poured himself a cup of coffee when his two younger brothers, Andy and Marvin, entered the room, each carrying an armload of firewood for the cookstove. Mom hadn’t begun using the gas stove yet, as she said she much preferred wood and wouldn’t use propane until the summer days became too warm.

“Say, Caleb, Bishop Swartley’s outside waitin’ to see you,” Andy announced.

“Why didn’t you invite the man in for a cup of coffee or to join us for breakfast?” Mom asked.

Marvin gave Mom a look that resembled a young boy rather than a nineteen-year-old man. “I did ask, but he says he’s in a hurry and needs to speak to the buggy maker.”

Caleb pushed his chair away from the table. Even though Andy and Marvin worked part-time in his shop, many of their customers wished to speak with Caleb instead of his brothers who didn’t know a lot about the business yet. “Keep a plate of breakfast warm for me, Mom,” he said on his way out the door.

Caleb found Andrew Swartley standing beside his buggy with one eye squinted, his nose crinkled, and lips set in a thin line. The straw hat on the man’s gray head sat at an odd angle, nearly covering his other eye.

“What can I do for you, Bishop Swartley?” Caleb asked as he strode alongside the elderly man.

“Got a little problem with my buggy wheel.” The bishop motioned to the left side of his rig. “It wobbles something fierce.”

Caleb squatted down beside the wheel. “Looks like you’re missing a couple spokes, and the wheel is bent besides. What happened?”

The bishop cleared his throat a few times and dragged the toe of his black boot in the dirt, much like a young boy might do when he was caught doing something wrong. “Well, it’s like this.... Me and Mose Kauffman were havin’ ourselves a little race the other day, and I kinda ran off the road and hit a tree.”

Caleb nearly choked on the laughter bubbling in his throat. He knew a lot of the younger Amish men raced their buggies against one another, but the bishop was eighty-two years old, for goodness sake. He ought to have better sense.

Fighting for control so as not to appear disrespectful, Caleb clenched his teeth.

“Think you might be able to fix it while’s I wait?” the bishop asked.

“I suppose I could. Since Pop and my brothers finished most of the planting yesterday, I’ll have Andy and Marvin’s help today.” He motioned toward the house. “Why don’t you come inside and have some breakfast with the family? After we eat, me and the boys will get right to work on your buggy wheel. You can sit on the front porch and visit with Pop, if he don’t have too many other things to do, that is.”

Bishop Swartley smiled, revealing a gold crown on one tooth that sparkled in the sunlight. “That sounds right gut to me.”

Caleb grinned and followed the bishop inside. On days like today and despite the pain in his shoulder, he felt really good about the occupation he’d chosen. Truth was, he didn’t think he’d be happy doing anything else.

“Hand me that packet of peas, would you?” Naomi said to Mary Ann.

“I’ll get it.” Nancy grabbed for the package, which had been left on the grass, while Naomi made furrows in the dirt to plant the peas. It should have been done weeks ago, but there hadn’t been time.

“Hey, Naomi asked me to get those!” Mary Ann grappled for the peas, and in so doing, spilled the whole packet.

“Now look what you’ve gone and done,” Nancy said, shaking her finger at her younger sister.

Naomi stood and arched her aching back. She was in no mood to referee a quarrel between the girls. “Please, pick up those peas, and be quick about it—both of you.”

“But it was Mary Ann who spilled them,” Nancy protested.

“It wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t grabbed for ’em first,” Mary Ann countered.

“Enough!” Naomi shouted. “I’ve had about as much as I can stand.”

The girls became silent, but Naomi could see by the frowns on their faces that neither was happy with the other. They were probably miffed at her, too.

Papa had closed the store today so he could help the brothers get some of the plowing and planting done in the fields. Naomi thought at first he would expect her to take the kinner to the store and manage things on her own, but he’d suggested she stay home and get caught up on things needing to be done. She’d been hard at work since breakfast, and nothing had gone right. She’d dropped a shoofly pie on her clean kitchen floor, Zach had been difficult to get down for a nap, and ever since she and her sisters came to the garden, all they’d done was bicker.

I wish I’d been an only child,
Naomi fumed. She was tempted to haul both girls into the kitchen and give them a bletsching but figured that wouldn’t help things any. Maybe it would be best to separate them awhile.

“I’ll tell you what,” Naomi said as she knelt next to Mary Ann and helped rescue the peas. “Why don’t you and I finish this job, and Nancy can go inside and start lunch?”

Nancy thrust out her lower lip. “By myself?”

Naomi nodded. “You’re ten years old now and gettin’ quite capable in the kitchen. I think you’ll do a gut job making lunch for everyone.”

Her sister’s eyes brightened. “You really think so?”

“Sure do.”

“I’ll ring the dinner bell when the meal’s ready.” Nancy hopped up, brushed the dirt from her apron, and sprinted for the house.

Naomi released a weary sigh. At least that problem had been solved.

“I don’t see why we can’t use Midnight in the fields,” Norman complained to his father as they walked toward the house for their noon meal.

Abraham gave an exasperated moan. “If I’ve told you once, I’ve told ya a hundred times. That horse is not yet broke. Have you forgotten the way he acted up the other day when you tried to hitch him to the buggy?”

“How’s he ever gonna learn if we don’t put him to work?”

“He’ll be put to work when he’s broke.”

“Papa’s right,” Matthew put in. “I’ve been workin’ with Midnight whenever I have free time, but it’ll be awhile before he’s ready to pull a buggy.”

“All good things take time,” Jake put in.

“I’ll be glad when I’m on my own,” Norman grumbled. “Then I can do whatever I want.”

Abraham grabbed Norman by the shirttail. “What was that?”

The boy shook his head. “Nothin’, Papa.”

“Seems here of late, all you do is gripe and complain. If you’re not careful, I’ll be sendin’ you to the store with Naomi every day, and I’ll stay here to help Matthew and Jake.” The thought of farming appealed to Abraham more than he cared to admit, but he’d made a commitment to run the store, and for Sarah’s sake, he’d see it through. She’d loved the place, and he was committed to keeping the business going in memory of his precious wife.

If only life weren’t so full of disappointments. Norman might think he’ll be able to do whatever he wants when he’s a grown man, but he’s in for a big surprise
.

Naomi and Mary Ann had just finished planting the last of the peas when Papa and the brothers walked into the yard. Papa, Norman, and Jake headed straight for the house, but Matthew stopped at the garden patch. “How’s it goin’?” he asked. “Any trouble with Hildy today?”

Naomi shook her head. “If I had my way, she’d be gone.” She wiped the perspiration from her forehead and grimaced.

“I begged Papa not to kill the goose, so he made me promise to stay out of her way and try not to act scared whenever she comes around,” Mary Ann put in.

Matthew nodded at Mary Ann, then turned back to Naomi, offering her a sympathetic smile. “Wish I could help you in the garden, but there’s a lot to be done in the fields yet.”

“I know.” Naomi turned to her little sister. “Run up to the house and get washed. If Nancy doesn’t have everything ready, see what you can do to help.”

The child skittered away, and Naomi faced Matthew again. “Sure wish I didn’t have so much to do. Between workin’ at the store most every day and all the chores to do here, I’m plumb tuckered out.”

Matthew shuffled his feet, and a wisp of dust curled around his boots. “I’m sorry you’re so miserable, Sister. Things have been kind of hard since Mama died. Sorry to say, but you’ve had to shoulder more than your share of the work.” He patted her arm with his solid, calloused hand.

Naomi smiled through her tears. “It means a lot to know someone cares.”

“Of course I care. Papa cares, too—he just has a funny way of showin’ it.”

She sniffed. “You really think he cares?”

“Jah.”

“Then how come he never says so? If Papa cares, why does he yell so much and expect me to do everything like Mama used to?”

Matthew shrugged. “Don’t know. Why don’t you ask him?”

“I did, and he said he wasn’t tryin’ to compare me to Mama.”

“Maybe he’s not then.”

“He is so. All the time he’s saying, ‘Your mamm didn’t do it this way or that.’” Naomi looked away. There was no point saying anything more. If she broke down in front of Matthew, he’d probably think she was a big boppli.

“Things between you and Papa will work out, Naomi. You’ll see.”

She stared at the toes of her sneakers. “I hope so. I surely do.”

By the first week of May, Naomi wondered how she would make it through the summer. The store had been bombarded with customers, many of them curious tourists, and the garden was growing weeds faster than she could keep up. Every evening after they returned home from the store, Naomi and her sisters tackled the weeds. It was backbreaking, especially when Naomi was already tired from doing her regular chores and helping out at the store.

Tonight, as she prepared for bed, tension pulled the muscles in her neck and upper back.
Will things ever get easier? It’s been a year since Mama died, yet I still struggle to get everything done. How did you do it all, Mama?

Naomi took a seat on the edge of her bed, pulled the pins from her hair, and brushed the golden brown waves cascading across her shoulders. Tomorrow was an off-Sunday, and there would be no church. Maybe she could get caught up on her rest, since they had no company coming and no plans to go calling.

Zach stirred from his crib across the room, and Naomi went to check on him. He’d kicked off the covers, exposing his bare feet.

“Sleep well, little one, and may your days ahead be trouble free,” Naomi murmured as she pulled the boy’s quilt over his body.
The quilt Mama made before Zach was born
.
It’s all my little brother has of our mamm now.
Naomi’s nose burned with unshed tears.
I won’t cry. There’s been enough tears already.
She leaned over and kissed the baby’s forehead, then tiptoed across the room.

Letting the weight of exhaustion settle over her body like a heavy blanket, she flopped onto her bed. As soon as her eyes closed, a vision of Caleb came to mind. What would it be like if they could marry and start a family? Would she be happier raising her own children than taking care of her siblings?

“Guess I’ll never know,” she murmured before drifting off to sleep.

Holding a single red rose in one hand and his lunch pail in the other, Jim stepped into the kitchen. “Honey, I’m home!”

When there was no response, he decided Linda might be upstairs taking a nap. She’d been doing that a lot lately, and he suspected it had something to do with her depression over not having a baby.

“That’s about to change.” He dropped his lunch pail on the counter, opened the door under the sink, retrieved a small glass vase, and inserted the rose. Eager to share his good news, he headed upstairs.

As Jim expected, he found his wife on the bed. She wasn’t sleeping, though—just lying there staring at the ceiling.

He bent over and kissed Linda’s forehead, then held up the rose.

“What’s that for?”

“We’re celebrating.”

“Celebrating what?”

“Our lawyer, Max, called this afternoon, saying a young woman in Bel Air, Maryland, has agreed to give us her son. If you’re agreeable, we can head east by the end of next week. That’ll give me time to get some jobs lined out and be sure my foreman knows what to do in my absence.”

Linda sat up, her eyes wide and her mouth open. “A baby? We’re finally going to get a baby?”

“Not exactly a baby. He’s a year old, but—”

“A year isn’t that old, Jim. He’s almost a baby,” she said excitedly.

Jim smiled. “I was hoping you’d see it that way.”

She clambered off the bed. “The end of next week, you said?”

“I think we can be ready by then, don’t you?”

She nodded and wrapped her arms around him, almost crushing the rose. “Will we fly or drive?”

“I thought it would be best if we drove. It’s been several years since we’ve had a real vacation, and we can see a few things on our way to and from.”

Linda rushed over to their closet and pulled out a suitcase. “There’s so much to do between now and then. I’ll need to pack, make motel reservations in Maryland, buy some baby things, get the nursery ready—”

“Whoa! Slow down, sweetie. I’ll take care of the motel reservations, we can go shopping together, and you can pack. How’s that sound?”

She grinned, reminding him of the carefree young woman he’d married eight years ago. “This is going to be the best vacation ever!”

“Yeah, I think so, too.”

Naomi stood at the stove, stirring a pan full of scrambled eggs. Papa, Matthew, Norman, and Jake were still outside doing chores. Samuel and Mary Ann had gone to the henhouse to gather eggs. Zach sat in his high chair across the room, while Nancy spoon-fed him cereal.

“Is breakfast ready yet?” Nancy asked. “I’m so hungry I might start eating the boppli’s mush.”

Naomi chuckled. “The eggs will be done soon. I think you can wait.”

“Since there’s no preaching today, can we do somethin’ fun?”

Naomi considered her sister’s question. She’d planned to rest most of the day, but doing something fun might be a better way to relax.

“What would you like to do?” she asked.

“How about if we go over to the Beechys’ place? I hear they have a batch of new piglets and a couple of baby goats.”

The idea of spending time in the company of Anna Beechy did have some appeal. The woman was old enough to be Naomi’s grandmother, and since Naomi had no grandparents living nearby, Anna was the next best thing. Always cheerful and bursting with good advice, Anna was a joy to be around.

Naomi sprinkled salt over the eggs. “If Papa says it’s okay, then I’ll take you, Mary Ann, Samuel, and Zach over to the Beechys’ after our noon meal.”

“Then I hope he says yes, ’cause I’m ready for some fun.” There was a pause before Nancy added, “I’m sick of workin’ so hard, aren’t you?”

“We’ve all been working hard, and with summer upon us, it’s not likely to get much better,” Naomi replied. “The garden will soon be producing, and then there will be canning to do.”

Nancy groaned. “I don’t like to can. It gets too hot in the kitchen.”

“I know, but it has to be done. We can always cool our insides with some of Papa’s homemade root beer, you know.”

“That’s true. Do ya suppose he’ll be askin’ us to sell some to neighbors and English folks who see our sign at the end of the driveway?”

Naomi added a bit of pepper to the scrambled eggs. “No doubt he will be wantin’ us to do just that.”

“Hey! Cut that out, you little rascal!”

Naomi turned in time to see a blob of cereal fly out of Zach’s grubby little hands and hit Nancy in the middle of her nose. She chuckled. “At least it’s not me feeding the stinker this time.”

Naomi had no sooner pulled their buggy into the Beechys’ yard, when Samuel, Nancy, and Mary Ann scrambled down and hurried to the barn.

She smiled as she hoisted Zach into her arms and stepped out of the buggy. Even though it had been a long time since she’d felt the exuberance her younger siblings obviously felt, she could still remember how wonderful it was to see newly born critters on a farm.

As she strolled across the Beechys’ lawn, Naomi couldn’t help but notice the weed-free garden bordering the house. Colorful flowers danced in the breeze, making Naomi mindful of her own flowerbeds choked with weeds. It wasn’t the way of the Amish to allow their gardens to be neglected. But then, most families had many helpers, not just three younger siblings who pulled more pranks on each other than they did weeds.

“It’s gut to see you,” Anna called from her rocking chair on the front porch. She waved and beckoned Naomi to join her. “Did you come for a little visit, or were you needing something?”

“I brought the younger ones to see your baby animals.” Naomi stepped onto the porch, holding Zach against her hip. “They’ve already headed to the barn, so I hope that’s okay.”

“Oh, sure. Abner’s out there, and he’ll be glad to show off his new piglets and the twin goats born last week.” Anna’s wire-rimmed glasses had slipped to the end of her nose, and the strings of her white head covering draped over her shoulder. “Have a seat, won’t ya?”

Naomi sat in the wicker chair beside Anna’s rocker and placed Zach on her lap. He squirmed restlessly, but she held on tight. “You’re not gettin’ down, ya hear?”

“Is the boy walkin’ yet?” Anna asked.

“No, but he crawls plenty fast, and I’m afraid if I put him down, he might try to follow the others out to the barn.”

“You can take him there now if you’d like. We can always talk later.” Anna leaned over and chucked Zach under his chubby chin. “You’re sure growin’, ya know that?”

“I think we can stay here awhile,” Naomi said. “It won’t hurt him to learn how to sit still.”

“Would ya mind if I hold him?” Anna asked with an eager expression.

Naomi handed Zach over and smiled as he nestled against the older woman’s chest. “You’re sure good with kinner
.
I can tell he likes you.”

Anna chuckled. “I’d better be good with ’em, for I’ve had plenty of practice over the years, what with raisin’ my own young’uns and now havin’
kinskinner
.”

Naomi couldn’t imagine having grandchildren. Since it wasn’t likely she’d ever marry, she would probably never have any children, much less grandchildren.

“Your flowers are sure beautiful. Not a weed in sight,” she said, changing the subject.

“My daughter Lydia helps some, but mostly the flowerbeds are my job.” When Anna smiled, her wrinkles seemed to disappear. “I love the feel of dirt beneath my fingers, not to mention the wonderful gut aroma of the flowers as they come into bloom.”

“Who takes care of the vegetable garden?”

“It’s a joint effort, with me, Lydia, and my older granddaughters, Peggy and Rebecca, taking turns at weed pullin’ and the like.” Anna chuckled. “Leona doesn’t help yet ’cause she’s too little and would just be in the way.”

Naomi thought about three-year-old Leona and how she often came with her father, Jacob Weaver, to the store. Jacob had been Papa’s friend for as long as she remembered. His oldest boy helped in his painting business, his two older daughters assisted their mother at home, and Leona, the youngest, was a real cutie.

“Our vegetable patch doesn’t look nearly so good,” Naomi admitted, bringing her musings to a standstill.

Anna pushed the rocker back and forth, and Zach giggled. “Have you got much celery planted this year?” she asked.

“Not much a’tall. Why do you ask?”

“Thought maybe somebody at your house might be gettin’ married come November.”

Naomi shook her head. “Not unless one of my brothers decides to find himself a wife, and then it would be her family who’d need to supply the celery for the wedding supper.”

Anna clucked her tongue. “I figured a young woman your age would have a serious beau by now and be thinkin’ of marriage.”

Naomi’s voice lowered to a whisper. “That’s about as likely as a cat makin’ friends with a dog.”

“I’ve known that to happen a time or two.”

Naomi smiled. Anna Beechy always looked on the bright side of things.

“There’s no special man in your life then?”

“Not really.” An image of Caleb Hoffmeir popped into Naomi’s head. “Even if there were, I’d never have enough time to court.”

Anna shook her head. “Such a shame your daed hasn’t found himself another wife by now. If Abraham were to get married, you wouldn’t have so many responsibilities and would be free to court.”

Naomi opened her mouth to reply, but Zach’s high-pitched scream cut her off.

“I think the little guy’s hungry,” Anna said. “Why don’t I take him inside and see if I can find something he might like while you walk out to the barn and check on the others?”

“You wouldn’t mind?”

“Not a’tall.” Anna stood. “Now run along and have a little fun. Me and the boppli will be just fine.”

“All right then. I’ll be back soon.” Naomi jumped up, took the stairs two at a time, and sprinted toward the barn, determined to make the most of her unexpected free time.

A few minutes later, she found her sisters and brother kneeling in the hay beside the twin goats.

“Look, Naomi,” Samuel announced. “They like us already.”

“Well, sure they do,” Abner Beechy agreed. He sat on a bale of hay nearby, his straw hat tipped at an odd angle, a wide smile on his weathered face.

Mary Ann looked up at Naomi and grinned from ear to ear. “We seen the new piglets, too.”

“Come, pet Floppy. She won’t bite.” Nancy motioned for Naomi to join them.

She knelt between her sisters. “You’ve already named the twins?”

“Yep. This here’s Floppy ’cause his tail flops around,” Samuel said, pointing to the smaller of the two goats. “And this one we’ve decided to call Taffy, since her skin’s the color of taffy candy.”

Naomi stroked each of the goats behind the ears and touched the tips of their wet noses. They were soft and silky and awfully cute. She laughed when one of the kids made a
baa
-ing sound and licked her finger. Maybe there was some joy in life, after all. Maybe she just needed to look for it more often.

“I still don’t understand why we couldn’t have flown to the East Coast. It would have been much quicker than driving.”

Jim glanced at his wife, sitting in the passenger seat of their minivan. “I told you before—this will give us a chance to see some beautiful country between here and there.”

She frowned. “I just want to bring our little boy home. Didn’t you say you’d set up an appointment for us to meet with the woman and her lawyer on Saturday morning?”

He nodded. “This is only Monday, Linda. That gives us five whole days to get there.”

“And we can stop in Lancaster to see the Amish?”

“Bel Air’s only a few hours from Lancaster,” he said, feeling his patience begin to wane. Wasn’t Linda listening the first time he’d explained all the details, or was she becoming forgetful like her mother? “I told you we can stop in Lancaster before we head to our hotel in Bel Air.”

“Okay.”

“I called my folks the other day and told them we’d be coming to Ohio soon after we picked up the boy. They’re eager to meet their new grandson.” Jim flicked on the blinker and headed up the ramp taking them to the freeway. “Think how much fun it will be to see the Amish. And you can finally buy that handmade quilt you’ve been wanting, Linda.”

“Amish quilts are expensive, you know.”