The Storekeeper's Daughter (7 page)

He shrugged. “You’re worth it.”

They rode in silence for a while, then Linda spoke again. “What if he doesn’t like us, Jim?”

“Who?”

“The baby.”

“You worry too much. What’s not to like? You’ve got enough love in your heart for ten babies, and I’m...” Jim chuckled. “Well, what can I say? I’m gonna be the world’s best dad.”

She reached over and touched his arm. “I know you will.”

“You’re not disappointed because he isn’t a newborn?”

She shook her head. “I can’t wait to hold our son and tell him how much I love him.”

Naomi pushed an errant strand of hair away from her face as she washed a new picking of peas. Today had been busier than usual at the store, and she was so tired this evening she could barely stand at the sink, much less prepare supper.

“The family’s counting on me, and it won’t get done unless I do it,” she mumbled with renewed determination.

“You talkin’ to yourself, Sister?”

Naomi turned her head. She’d thought she was alone in the kitchen.

Nancy stood near the back door with another basket of peas in her hand. This was the third one she’d brought in for Naomi to wash.

“Guess I was talking to myself,” Naomi admitted. She nodded toward the counter. “Just put ’em over there, and then you need to get washed and start setting the table. Papa and the brothers will be in soon, and they’ll expect the meal to be ready and waiting.”

“Why can’t Mary Ann set the table?”

“She’s in the living room with Zach at the moment—hopefully keepin’ him out of trouble.”

“I’ll be glad when Saturday comes and we can stay home. I’d rather be sellin’ root beer at home than workin’ at the store all day.”

“There’ll be plenty of work to do here, as well,” Naomi reminded. She poured the clean peas into a kettle and placed it on the stove. “Remember, we won’t just be sellin’ root beer on Saturday.”

Nancy set the basket on the counter. “Jah, I know.”

“If things go well, maybe we can take time out to have a little picnic.”

“Can we have it down at the creek?”

“I don’t think so. We’ve gotta stay close to the house in case we get any root beer customers.”

Nancy scowled. “Then how are we gonna have a picnic?”

“We can eat it at the picnic table on the lawn. That way we can watch for customers, and if there’s time, maybe we can play a game of croquet.”

“Sounds gut to me.” Nancy started for the stairs. “I’m goin’ upstairs to wash, but I’ll be back to set the table.”

Naomi blew out her breath. She didn’t have the heart to tell Nancy they might not have time for a picnic lunch if they had a lot of customers or didn’t get all their chores done on time. She figured the child needed something to look forward to. All work and no play was bad for any soul, especially the kinner.

Jim stood at the window, looking down at the hotel parking lot. They had arrived in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, that morning; but after only a few hours of shopping and sightseeing, Linda developed one of her sick headaches and begged Jim to stop. He’d been fortunate enough to find a hotel with a vacancy and had canceled their reservation in Bel Air. They would leave the hotel in Lancaster at eight in the morning and be in Bel Air by ten. By this time tomorrow evening, they’d be a family of three.

Jim’s cell phone rang, and he pulled it from the clip on his belt. His conversation lasted only a few minutes, and during that time he kept glancing at the bathroom door, where Linda had gone to take something for her headache and to try to relax in a warm bath.

A few seconds after he hung up the phone, she returned to the room with a questioning look on her face. “I thought I heard your cell phone ring.”

He nodded.

“Who was it?”

“Carl Stevens. The lawyer representing the baby’s mother.”

Linda’s face paled. “Please tell me there’s nothing wrong. She didn’t back out or anything, did she, Jim?”

“Mr. Stevens called to let me know our meeting tomorrow is still on schedule.”

Linda frowned. “I wish it had been today.”

“The way you’re feeling, you wouldn’t have been up to it today, Linda. You’ll feel better by tomorrow.” Jim took Linda’s hand and led her over to the bed. “Please, lie down and try to relax. You look all done in.”

She flopped down on the bed, pulling her legs underneath her and leaning against the pillows. “I am kind of tired, and this headache doesn’t seem to be going away. It’s been a long five days on the road.”

“I know, honey, but it’ll be worth it when we get the baby. You’ll be so excited you’ll forget you were ever tired or had a migraine.”

“I hope so.” Linda rubbed her forehead.

Jim massaged her shoulders and neck. “Lie down now and rest awhile. You hardly slept last night, and I’m afraid you’re going to feel worse if you don’t get some sleep.”

She yawned. “You’re right. I haven’t slept well since we left home. A nap might really help.”

“That’s my girl. You’ll feel better after this is all behind us and we’re heading to Ohio with our boy.”

She nodded and scooted farther down on the bed. “We’ve waited so long for a baby. I just want to hold him.”

He pulled the cotton bedspread over her. “Soon, Linda. Just one more day and we’ll have our son.”

As Caleb headed for home, he felt a renewed sense of determination. He’d been in town on errands today and had gone by the Fishers’ store in hopes of seeing Naomi. Just like the other times he’d dropped by lately, she was busy. Too busy to talk, she’d informed him. Even if she hadn’t been busy, Caleb knew Naomi’s father was there, watching Naomi’s every move and listening to whatever she and Caleb said.

Caleb clucked to the horse to get him moving faster. “Probably shouldn’t have left Andy alone at the buggy shop while I went to town, but I wanted the chance to see Naomi again.”

The only good thing that had happened during his visit to the store was the minute he’d spent talking to Nancy Fisher, when she’d given him the news that Naomi and the younger ones would be staying home on Saturday to sell root beer from their front yard. Abraham would probably be working at the store all day, which meant Caleb could drop by the Fishers’ place for some root beer and the chance to speak to Naomi without fear of her dad eavesdropping. He hadn’t given up on their relationship yet and was determined to find a way for them to be together.

“Maybe I’ll see if Mom has a nice plant I could take Naomi,” he mumbled. “That oughta make her take notice of the way I feel.”

Caleb talked to his horse the rest of the way home, and by the time he pulled up to the mailbox beside the driveway, he was feeling pretty confident. He opened the box and withdrew the day’s mail. Smiling, he noticed a letter from his cousin, Henry, who owned a buggy shop in Holmes County, Ohio. He tore it open and read the letter out loud.

Dear Caleb:

Caleb grinned. He would leave Andy and Marvin in charge of his shop for a few days, and come Saturday, he’d be on a bus bound for Berlin, Ohio. He would have to see Naomi some other time.

Whistling a happy tune, Caleb entered the buggy shop a short time later, but he stopped inside the door, shocked by the sight that greeted him. Andy was sitting on the floor, moaning and grasping the palm of his left hand.

“What’s wrong?” Caleb dashed over to his brother and dropped to his knees.

Andy’s face contorted. “It’s my thumb! Shot a nail straight into it.”

“How’d ya do somethin’ like that, and where was Marvin when it happened?” Caleb reached for Andy’s hand, and his stomach churned at the sight. A three-inch nail was partially embedded in his brother’s thumb.

“I was usin’ that new air gun you bought awhile back—and guess my aim was off.” Andy’s lower lip jutted out, making him look much younger than his eighteen years. “Marvin’s still out in the fields helpin’ Pop, John, and David.” He grimaced. “This sure does hurt like crazy.”

“I can only imagine.” Caleb put his arm around Andy’s waist. “Here, let me help you up. Then we’d better get one of our neighbors to drive us to the emergency room.”

Andy’s dark eyes widened as he shook his head. “The hospital?”

Caleb nodded. “You need to get this taken care of right away. Can’t go around with a nail stickin’ out of your thumb for the rest of your life.”

“But I hate hospitals. They use big needles and do things to folks that hurt somethin’ awful.”

“Nothing they do to you at the hospital could be much worse than what you’ve done to yourself. Now let’s go.”

Andy allowed Caleb to lead him out of the shop and into Caleb’s open buggy. As soon as he had his brother settled in the passenger seat, Caleb ran into the house to tell Mom what had happened and let her know they’d be driving to the Petersons’ to see about getting a ride to the hospital. So much for doing any more today. At the rate things were going, Caleb wondered if he’d be able to go to Ohio on Saturday.

Abraham took a seat on a bale of straw and leaned his head against the wooden planks of the barn. The sweet smell of hay tantalized his senses, and he drew in a deep breath.
Too bad I can’t enjoy my farm all the time. If only I weren’t so tired after workin’ at the store all day.

“I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content.”
Abraham thought about the verse of scripture Bishop Swartley had recently quoted from Philippians 4:11. Just this afternoon, his friend Jacob Weaver had reminded him that Hebrews 13:5 said, “Let your conversation be without covetousness; and be content with such things as ye have: for he hath said, I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee.”

Of course, Jacob was talking about the need for Abraham to be content with his family and learn to enjoy them more. He said it was time for Abraham to quit grieving over Sarah’s death and realize God hadn’t left him and would never forsake him.

Abraham closed his eyes, and a vision of his sweet wife burst into his mind. He blinked and tried to dispel the image, but it only became stronger.

It was the day of their wedding, and he could hear Sarah’s voice and feel her soft touch. Sarah’s dark eyes revealed the depth of her love for him, and they had promised to cherish one another until death parted them.

“Papa, are you sleepin’? The supper bell’s chimin’, and it’s time to eat.”

Abraham forced his eyes open, reluctantly letting go of Sarah’s image. Little had he known on their wedding day that she would be the first to pass on.

When he looked up at his oldest son, he noticed a worried frown on Matthew’s face.

“You okay, Papa?”

“Fine. Just restin’ my eyes.” He stood and arched his back.

Matthew started for the barn door. “You comin’ then?”

“Right behind you.” Abraham took one more look around the barn. He’d been grieving for Sarah long enough. It was time to move on. Jacob was right. He needed to be content with what he had. Maybe tomorrow, after he got home from the store, he’d set up the tent in their backyard, and they’d have themselves a little campout. He figured the younger ones would like it, and truth be told, he was looking forward to it, as well.

“Linda, are you awake? It’s time to get up. Our appointment is in three hours.”

Linda’s only response was a deep moan.

Jim touched his wife’s forehead. She wasn’t running a fever; that was good. “What’s wrong, honey? Are you still feeling sick this morning?”

She nodded but kept her eyes closed.

“Maybe you’ll feel better once you’ve had some breakfast.”

Linda rolled onto her side. “My head is pounding, and my stomach’s so upset, I don’t think I could keep anything down.”

Jim climbed out of bed. “I’ll go take my shower and check on you when I get out.”

“Okay.”

Ten minutes later, when Jim returned to the bedroom, he discovered that Linda was no better.

“Honey, I think you’re gonna have to stay here while I go to Maryland to pick up the baby.”

“I have to go with you.” She lifted her head but let it fall back on the pillow.

“You don’t have to go, Linda. It will be better if you sleep off that migraine.”

“What about the papers? Won’t I be expected to sign something?”

“We both signed the necessary papers in Max’s office several weeks ago. He faxed them to the woman’s lawyer, remember?”

“Oh, that’s right.” She opened her eyes, and when she looked up, Jim noticed there were tears ready to spill over.

Linda’s face looked pale and drawn, and he knew she would never make the two-hour trip to Bel Air without throwing up. He bent over and kissed her forehead. “Close your eyes and get some sleep. By the time you wake up, you’ll be feeling better, and I’ll be here with our boy.”

She nodded, and a tear trickled down her cheek. “Don’t stop anywhere on the way back. Bring him straight to the hotel, okay?”

“I will, honey.”

Before Papa and Samuel left for the store in the morning, he’d nailed a sign to the fence at the end of their driveway, and Naomi placed several jugs of root beer on the picnic table. By nine o’clock, they’d had a few English customers who said they’d driven by the farm and seen the sign. A couple of their Amish neighbors also dropped by. Naomi wondered how she would get any chores done when she had to race back and forth from the house to the yard to wait on customers. Nancy wasn’t good at making change, so Naomi put her and Mary Ann to work inside while she handled the root beer sales. During the slack times, she rushed into the house, tended to Zach, did some cleaning, and instructed her sisters on what they should be doing. At the moment, they were supposed to be cleaning their bedroom while she mopped the kitchen floor. Instead, they were arguing, and Naomi was afraid they would wake Zach, who was taking his morning nap.

She set the mop and bucket aside and trudged up the stairs.

“What’s the problem?” Naomi asked when she entered the girls’ room.

Mary Ann sat on the hardwood floor with a stack of papers in her lap, and Nancy stood off to one side, her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face.

“Mary Ann won’t help me clean,” Nancy tattled. “She’s been sittin’ there goin’ through old school papers for the last ten minutes.”

“Mary Ann, please get up and help your sister clean this room,” Naomi instructed.

The child pointed to the garbage can a few inches away. “I am cleanin’. I’m throwin’ out all the papers I don’t want.”

“You can do that later, after the room is clean.” Naomi grabbed the broom, which had been leaning against the wall, and handed it to Nancy. “You sweep, and Mary Ann can hold the dustpan. After that, the windows need to be washed, and your throw rugs should be shaken.”

A horn honked in the yard, signaling another root beer customer.

Naomi turned and started for the door. “I’ll be back soon to check on your progress.” She left the room, praying she’d have enough patience to get through the day without losing her temper or having to spank someone.

Jim was glad traffic was light that morning, and he had no trouble finding his way to Carl Stevens’s office in Bel Air. He parked the minivan in the parking lot, and a few minutes later he entered the building and introduced himself to the receptionist. The middle-aged woman invited him to take a seat, asked if he’d like a cup of coffee, and said Mr. Stevens would be with him in a few minutes.

As Jim sat in a straight-backed chair, holding a mug of coffee in his hands, he wished Linda were with him. Would the lawyer be reluctant to hand the boy over to Jim without meeting his wife first? Would the child willingly go with Jim, or would he make a fuss?

I sure am glad I bought that car seat for the baby before we left Washington. I’m so nervous, I’d probably have forgotten to get one if we’d waited to buy it until we got here.

Jim was more than a little anxious about becoming a father. After eight years of marriage, he and Linda had developed a pleasant routine. Their whole life was about to change, and he hoped it would be for the better and that he wouldn’t regret his decision to adopt this little one-year-old boy.

“Mr. Scott?”

Jim’s thoughts came to a halt, and he looked up. A tall man with thinning gray hair and rimless glasses offered him a halfhearted smile.

Jim stood and extended his hand. “You must be Carl Stevens.”

“That’s right.” The man glanced around. “Where’s your wife? Linda, isn’t that her name?”

“She’s at the hotel with a bad headache.”

The lawyer raised his eyebrows, but before he could ask any questions, Jim quickly added, “It’s just a tension headache. She’ll be fine in a couple hours.”

“I see. Well, please come into my office.” The older man led the way, and Jim followed.

When they entered his office, Mr. Stevens nodded toward a chair. “Please, have a seat.”

As he sat down, Jim scanned the room. He and Carl Stevens seemed to be alone. He cleared his throat. “Excuse me, sir, but where’s our baby? Will I be meeting the child’s mother?”

The lawyer took a seat in the leather chair behind his desk and leaned forward, his hands tightly clasped. “There’s been a change in plans.”

“Change in plans? What do you mean?” Jim’s heartbeat picked up momentum, and a trickle of sweat rolled down his forehead. He didn’t like the fact that there was no mother or baby waiting to greet him, and Mr. Stevens’s grim look gave no comfort, either.

“Shelby, the boy’s mother, phoned me this morning.”

“And?”

“I’m sorry to say she’s changed her mind.”

“About the adoption?” Jim’s face heated, and it was all he could do to remain seated.

The lawyer nodded solemnly. “I’m afraid so, and as you already know, she has the right to do that.”

Jim jumped up. “But she can’t back out now! Linda and I were counting on this adoption. We’ve come a long way to get the boy.”

“I’m aware of that, but you knew there was a chance this could happen. I’m sure your lawyer advised you of the birth mother’s rights.”

“Yes, he did, but we hadn’t heard anything to the contrary since we signed the papers on our end, so we assumed—”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Scott. I’m sure once you explain the details to your lawyer, he will try to find you another child.”

Jim trembled as he fought for control. “What details? Why did the birth mother change her mind at the last minute? I need to have something to tell my wife when I show up without the baby.”

Mr. Stevens nodded toward the vacant chair. “Please be seated, and I’ll explain.”

Jim remained firmly planted in front of the desk with his arms folded.

The lawyer shrugged and took a sip of his coffee. “Shelby said after thinking it over, she’s not able to part with her son. She’s had him a whole year and has grown quite attached.”

“Then why in thunder was she planning to give him up for adoption?”

“If you wish to hear the rest of the story, then I insist you calm down.”

Jim drew in a deep breath and sank to the chair. “I’m listening.”

“The birth mother and the baby have already bonded, and she feels her son will be better off with her.”

“That’s ridiculous! What can an unwed mother give a child that my wife and I can’t?”

“In a material way, probably nothing, but she does have a mother’s love to offer her son.”

“We would have loved him.” Jim clenched his fingers until they were digging into the palms of his hands. “I own a successful painting business. We could give the boy a good upbringing, and he would lack nothing in the way of material things.”

“I’m sure that’s true, which is exactly why your lawyer should have no trouble finding you another child.”

“So that’s it then? There’s nothing more to be said?”

“No. I’m sorry.”

As Jim stood, a sense of defeat crept into his soul and wrapped itself tightly around his heart. How could he face Linda and tell her they had no son? There would be no grandbaby to show off to his folks in Ohio. The truth was, there might never be.

Without another word, Jim stormed out of the lawyer’s office, slamming the door behind him. When he climbed into his van and drove away, it felt like a fifty-five-gallon drum of paint rested on his shoulders. He headed out of Bel Air, up Interstate 1, and onto Highway 222 toward Pennsylvania, wondering what he could tell Linda that might soften the blow.

He gripped the steering wheel and clenched his teeth. “If there’s a God in heaven, why would He have allowed this to happen?”

Two hours later, when Jim drove into Lancaster County, he was still fuming. “I need to get myself calmed down before I go back to the hotel.” He rolled down his window, but a blast of hot, humid air hit him full in the face.

Snapping on the air conditioner, he turned off the main road and drove aimlessly along the backcountry roads. Over a covered bridge, past several Amish farms, he went farther and farther. A sign nailed to a fence at the end of a driveway caught his attention: HOMEMADE ROOT BEER—$3.00 A GALLON.

He turned in. “Root beer won’t solve my problems, but it might take care of my thirst.”

Since Zach was happily crawling around on the clean floor, Naomi decided to tackle the kitchen cupboards. The girls had finished cleaning their bedroom and were downstairs in the cellar gathering canning jars, which would be put to use next week.

Naomi pulled out a step stool and was carrying it to the cupboard when she heard a horn honk.

“Ach! Why now?” She turned toward the door and was about to open it, when Zach let out a howl. Her first thought was to ignore him, but then she remembered her sisters weren’t able to watch the little guy while she waited on the customer.

Scooping Zach and his small quilt into her arms, Naomi grabbed a tissue from her apron pocket and swiped it across his nose. The horn blared again, and she hurried outside.

An English man stood near the picnic table.

“Can I help ya?” she asked, balancing Zach on her hip.

“I was wondering if you have any cold root beer.”

Naomi nodded. “There’s some in the house.”

“Do you sell it by the glass or only in gallon jugs?”

“Just in jugs, but I’d be happy to give you a paper cup if you’re wantin’ to drink some now.”

The man looked awfully tense, but he did return her smile. “Cute baby you’ve got there. Is it a boy or girl?”

“He’s my youngest brother. Just turned one in April.” She plopped Zach in the center of the picnic table, wrapping the quilt around his bare legs. “He weighs a ton, and I’ll sure be glad when he starts walkin’.”

“Do your folks have many children?” the man asked.

“My mother was hit by a car and died when this little guy was only two months old. That left eight kinner—I mean, kids—for my dad to raise.”

He raised his eyebrows. “That’s too bad about your mother.”

Naomi was about to comment, but a loud shriek caught her attention. “That must be one of my sisters. I’m guessing our crazy goose is chasing one of them again. As soon as I see what’s up, I’ll be right back with your cold root beer.” She dashed off, leaving Zach on the picnic table.

Jim waited patiently for the young woman to return with the root beer, the whole time keeping an eye on the diaper-clad boy sitting in the center of the picnic table. At first the child never moved, but after a few minutes, he began to squirm.

“Sit still, little guy, or you might fall,” Jim said.

When the baby grabbed hold of his blanket, scooted to the edge of the table, and tried to climb down, Jim’s heart slammed into his chest. “No, no, little boy. You’d better stay put until your sister gets back.”

The child’s legs dangled precariously over the edge of the table, and Jim knew if he didn’t do something, the kid would fall. He grabbed the boy around the waist and lifted him into his arms.

The baby giggled and kicked his chubby feet as a blob of drool rolled down his chin.

Jim grabbed the edge of the colorful quilt and blotted the boy’s face with it. “There, that’s better, isn’t it?” He looked back at the house.
Where is that girl, and what could be taking her so long? Does she think I came here to buy root beer or baby-sit her brother?

When the child burrowed his downy head into Jim’s chest, his heart welled with an emotion he’d never felt before.
So this is what it feels like for a father to hold his son.

Jim cast another quick glance at the house. All was quiet, and not a soul was in sight. With no thought of the consequences, Jim made an impulsive decision. He whirled around and dashed for the car.

Jerking open the back door, Jim slipped the child into the car seat and buckled him in. He glanced at the house again, and seeing that the coast was clear, he hopped into the driver’s side. He slammed the door, turned on the ignition, then sped out of the yard.