An Amish Harvest Read online

  “The best,” Naomi said, recalling her father’s mention of coffee and pie at the diner with an Englisch friend.

  Brock chuckled. “And he makes me laugh. Most folks don’t realize what a good sense of humor the Amish have. But your father has a joke for me almost every time we meet.”

  Naomi took a sip of her iced tea, then nodded. “I love that about my father. He makes me laugh too. There’s not enough joy in the world, but it warms my heart when I hear laughter, especially coming from mei daed or my girls.”

  Brock stared at her until Naomi felt self-conscious and looked away.

  “Naomi, you’ll find happiness again in your life. It probably doesn’t seem like it right now, but you will. After Patty died, I was sure that my life had ended. But, as cliché as it sounds, time really does have a way of healing.”

  Naomi nodded. There were times she missed Stephen, brief recollections of the good times they’d had. But what saddened her most was that his passing was so painful for her daughters. But Naomi was determined to give her girls a good life, to instill in them traditional values, and to school them about choosing a husband wisely. One who wouldn’t hit. But as she thought back, her love for Stephen had overshadowed everything else about him, and she’d overlooked some early warning signs. Do you ever really know someone until you are sharing a life with them?

  Brock was looking over her shoulder again. Naomi turned to see what he was looking at. An old woman was standing in the backyard, looking at them through the kitchen window.

  Chapter Three

  Naomi poured Pearl King a glass of tea, then sat down across the kitchen table from the elderly Englisch woman. Pearl’s gray hair was twisted in a loose bun on the back of her head, strands dangling on either side of her face, the lines of time suggesting she was at least eighty years old.

  “I love the taste of the meadow tea that you Amish folks make.” She smiled before taking another sip. “The sweet, minty flavor is unlike tea you get anywhere else.”

  Naomi took a sip from her own glass. “This is the last batch until the spring, the last of my mint.”

  “Well, I thank you kindly for sharing it with me. And I apologize again for being a peeper.” Pearl dabbed at her mouth with the napkin Naomi had placed underneath her glass, then she set the tea down and sighed. “I thought it would be a lovely day for a walk.” She eased her chair out and stretched out one leg, which was covered by a thick gray stocking and boasted a bright red running shoe. “I even bought these at the store for this very purpose, so I could enjoy the fall weather before it gets too cold for walking.” She pulled her leg back under the table. “But sometimes I get confused, and I’m not quite sure how I ended up here.” She leaned forward, frowning. “This is what happens when you get old.”

  “I’m grateful you wandered our way and didn’t get lost in one of the fields surrounding us.” Naomi studied the woman as Pearl used both hands to lift her glass to her mouth. She was wearing a faded blue dress and black sweater. The only jewelry she wore was a watch on her left wrist.

  “Is the man you just introduced me to of a relation to you?” Pearl nodded toward the kitchen window where they could see Brock in the distance on the tractor.

  “Nee. My father hired him to harvest our crop of alfalfa.” Naomi swallowed hard. “My husband died recently, so I needed some help this year.”

  “Oh, sweet child of God. I’m so sorry to hear that.” Pearl shook her head as a couple more strands of hair spilled from her bun. “He won’t get to meet his unborn child.”

  Naomi stiffened and cocked her head to one side. “How did you know that I’m”—she put a hand on her belly—“in the family way?”

  Pearl was missing a few teeth, but unlike Abby, the dark empty spaces were farther back in her mouth, only visible when she stretched her mouth into a wide smile, like she was doing now. “You’re glowing, my dear.” She shrugged. “I just know these things.”

  Naomi scratched her cheek, grinning. “Hmm . . . that’s strange you would know. I haven’t even told my parents yet. I was waiting until the right time.” She glanced down at her stomach again and pressed a hand against her baby beneath the baggy black dress.

  “You’re a small woman, but you won’t be able to hide the bump for much longer. Baby will gain lots of weight these next four months.”

  Naomi’s spine prickled. “How did you know how far along I am?”

  Pearl chuckled. “Oh, dear girl. It would take decades for me to learn you about such things.” She winked at Naomi.

  “I suppose I need to tell my parents and my daughters. I was trying to wait until we were done mourning my husband’s death, so that this new life would be an occasion to celebrate.”

  “Might we bow our heads and pray for your unborn son?” Pearl reached her weathered hands across the table, but Naomi stiffened.

  “You couldn’t possibly know I’m having a son. Even at the doctor, I asked them not to tell me the gender when they did a scan of the baby.”

  “Oh. Did I say son? I meant baby. Of course I couldn’t know the sex of your child.” She wiggled her fingers until Naomi’s hands found hers, then Pearl closed her eyes and bowed her head. “Dear Heavenly Father, we ask for Your divine blessings on this unborn child Naomi carries. May he—or she—be born healthy and well, destined to live a long life serving You.” She raised her head, smiling. “Amen.”

  “Thank you, Pearl.” Naomi’s doctor had told her to be careful with this pregnancy. She’d already lost one child, and that automatically put her at a slightly higher risk for another miscarriage. And he was worried stress would play a factor following Stephen’s death. Naomi noticed the woman’s empty glass. “More tea?”

  Pearl shook her head and stood up. “No, dear. I should be getting home. But thank you for the drink and the company.” The woman was about the same height as Naomi, and when Naomi wasn’t pregnant, they probably weighed about the same. Naomi felt like she was looking at herself in fifty or sixty years.

  Naomi followed Pearl to the door. “Let me drive you home in my buggy. It won’t take me long to hitch the horse.”

  Pearl kept going, pushed the screen door open, and waited for Naomi to join her on the porch. “No need. It’s a beautiful day, and I have these wonderful running shoes.” She chuckled. “They might be running shoes, but for me, I will only be walking in them.” She rocked from heel to toe a few times, just like Esther Rose did the first time she put on new shoes.

  Naomi wasn’t comfortable letting Pearl take off on foot again, but the older woman told her where she lived, and it was less than a mile away.

  “Which house do you live in on Black Horse Road?”

  “It’s the small blue one that sits between a red brick house and a white house with green shutters, just before you get to the T in the road.”

  Pearl held the handrail as she made her way down the porch steps. Naomi followed close behind, wondering if she should walk with her at least part of the way. But Pearl seemed steady on her feet, and Naomi had a full day planned.

  “Be safe.” Naomi waved to Pearl from the bottom step, raising a hand to her forehead to block the sun. She could see Brock on the tractor at the far end of the field.

  Pearl waved over her shoulder. “Stay dry when the rain comes.”

  Naomi scanned the cloudless skies, while her new friend moved at a slow pace down Naomi’s driveway, then onto the gravel road that led to Black Horse Road.

  Naomi put a hand across her belly again, deciding that she was going to shed her mourning clothes and tell her parents that she was pregnant next weekend. As she walked back into the house, she couldn’t help but wonder if Pearl was right in her prediction that the baby was a boy.

  Brock raised and lowered the handle on the water pump in Naomi’s front yard until a steady stream ran long enough for him to wash his hands. He looked over his shoulder when he heard giggling in the distance.

  “Wie bischt, Mr. Brock.” Abby stopped by the water pump while
her sister crossed the yard to the house. She ogled the tractor and baler parked by the barn. “Mei daed used mules for the harvest.”

  Brock dried his hands on his jeans as best he could. “Did your father harvest the hay by himself?”

  “Nee. My uncle helped him, and then he helped my uncle. My uncle has a hurt foot this year.” She hung her head for a moment before she looked back at him with her bright blue eyes. “And my daed went to be with Jesus.”

  Brock swallowed. “Um . . . yeah. I know. I’m sorry about that.” He wasn’t sure how much a child Abby’s age understood about death.

  “He used to play Life on the Farm with us. It’s a board game.” Abby smiled. “It’s fun. You buy cows and run a farm.” She sneezed before she went on. “Esther Rose isn’t very gut at it. She almost always loses.”

  “Bless you.” Brock ran his hands along his pants again. “I better get back to work. I was just taking a break, but I’ll see you for supper.”

  “Have you ever played Life on the Farm?” Abby squinted against the sun’s glare.

  “No. I haven’t. It sounds fun though.” Brock smiled before he turned to head back to his equipment. Abby got in step with him.

  “Maybe we can play after supper. Mamm doesn’t play it with us anymore. I think she used to let Daed win anyway.”

  “Maybe.” Brock opened the gate that separated the front yard from the field and stepped on the other side, closing the gate between him and the child.

  Abby peered through the wooden slats. “Do we have any weevils this year, Mr. Brock?”

  He slowed his step and turned around, surprised Abby would know about such things. “Nope. It seems to be a healthy batch of alfalfa.”

  She nodded. “That’s gut. You’re going to wrap it in plastic to keep it dry, right? Daed used to put some in the big barn too.” She pointed to a red barn on the far side of the property.

  “I’ll put some in there for your horse, and I’ll make sure it stays dry.” He waved and started walking to his tractor. He glanced up at the sky. All clear.

  It was two hours later when Abby came back to the fence, waving him down for supper. He’d just draped a tarp over the last bale of hay, just to play it safe, even though it didn’t look like rain.

  “Something smells good in here,” he said as he walked into the kitchen.

  Naomi looked over her shoulder and smiled. “A simple meal. Just roast and potatoes. And steamed broccoli.”

  Naomi was a pretty woman with dark hair and big brown eyes. Brock was sure she’d have plenty of Amish suitors soon. It was their way to remarry quickly following the death of a spouse. Brock didn’t foresee another wife in his future. It was a lot of work getting to know someone, and he didn’t have the energy for romance these days. He’d settled into semi-retirement with ease, even though he took on enough extra jobs that it wasn’t really like retirement.

  Naomi’s girls were already sitting at the table. Brock took a seat in the same place again, where a big glass of iced tea awaited him. He thought about all the meals he’d shared with Patty, just the two of them at a dining room table that could seat six. Sometimes, he’d known Patty wanted to eat on TV trays as opposed to looking at the empty chairs they’d hoped to fill with children someday.

  Abby rattled off something in Pennsylvania Deitsch. Young Amish children seemed to speak their native dialect in front of outsiders since it is the first language they learn, so he didn’t think it was rude. But the context of what Abby was saying was a bit shocking. Brock brought a hand to his mouth, hiding the smile on his face, wondering how they would feel if they knew he understood what they were saying.

  Naomi spun around with a spoon in her hand, slinging droplets of brown gravy across the wood floor. She answered her daughter in the same dialect, her eyes wide. They went back and forth several times.

  They all turned their attention to the window when pellets of rain dotted the glass. Brock was glad he’d been proactive enough to cover the hay bales.

  He finished his last bite of roast, wiped his mouth, and recalled the conversation between Naomi and her daughter. He couldn’t help but smile.

  “Was supper okay?” Naomi had the hint of a smile on her face, surely wondering why Brock was grinning. He cleared his throat and forced a solemn expression.

  “Yes. It was wonderful. Thank you.”

  Brock’s grandparents were Amish, so he’d understood the dialect since he was a child. The poor woman would be horrified if she knew Brock had understood them.

  “I think that maybe you should marry him,” Abby had said, nodding at Brock. “Then you can kiss him to make a baby. I bet he wants some kinner.”

  “Abigail! I don’t even know this man, and we don’t speak of such things.”

  “He’s old, like Daadi.”

  “He’s not that old, and we are not talking about this anymore. Do you hear me?”

  “I’m going to pray for a new daed and a new boppli.”

  Naomi had glanced at Brock several times throughout the exchange, but Abby wasn’t done.

  “We can’t handle a farm by ourselves. We need a man in our lives.”

  It was at that point that Brock had the hardest time holding in his laughter.

  “Abby, I will not have you shopping for a husband for me. Do you understand? So, hush now. I’m just thankful this man doesn’t know what you’re saying!”

  If she only knew.

  Chapter Four

  Friday morning, Naomi had just gotten the girls off to school when Brock came up the porch steps and knocked on the kitchen door. Like most of their guests, everyone seemed to migrate to the kitchen door as opposed to the other door, which led into the living room. Maybe because it was the closest entrance when you came up the porch steps. Usually, Naomi only saw Brock at meals, so she was surprised to see him now.

  “I need a part for my tractor.” He ran his sleeve across his forehead. It was unseasonably hot for September and Naomi had opened all the windows, filling the house with a cool cross breeze.

  “I’m so sorry I haven’t been bringing you something cold to drink. I forget how hot it can be out in the fields, even this time of year. Can I get you something now?”

  “No, no. I bring a small cooler every day with water or lemonade. So I’m fine. I just wanted to let you know I’ll be gone for a while. I have to go to Lancaster for the part.”

  Naomi didn’t get to Lancaster very often. It was too far to go by buggy. She thought about the list she’d been adding to, things she couldn’t find at the nearby businesses. Abby needed a new tire for her kick scooter, the reason the girls had been walking to the schoolhouse. Esther Rose was allergic to something outside and occasionally got welts on her legs. The homeopathic doctor has suggested a salve to make, and Naomi made it just like he’d said. But when it didn’t stop the itching, the doctor suggested an over-the-counter medication that Naomi hadn’t been able to find.

  “I am so sorry to ask this, and I don’t want to trouble you . . .” She bit her bottom lip, flinching a little. “Is there any way I can go with you? Could we go to Walmart?” It was the best kept secret in her community. Amish women loved Walmart.

  “Of course. It’s no problem at all.”

  Naomi was surprised that Brock didn’t question her about it. Most Englisch thought that the Amish only shopped at markets nearby, and there was a tiny store similar to Walmart in Paradise, but they had a limited selection.

  “I can hire a driver, I’ve just been . . .” She was trying to be frugal with money, but decided not to share that with Brock. “. . . busy and haven’t gotten around to it.” And that was the truth too.

  “Naomi, I don’t mind taking you anywhere you want to go. Really. I retired early because I was more or less forced to when the company I’d worked for my entire life went belly-up. So, I farmed full-time for a while, but after Patty died, I thought I’d be better off with a smaller place.” He scratched his forehead as he shook his head. “But I got bored pretty quick.
Besides, idle hands makes for idle minds, and I’m only forty-one. I take on construction jobs, or sometimes even harvest hay for someone who needs help.” He smiled. “But I still have more free time than I’d like. So, even after I’m done with the harvest, you can call on me for rides if you need them.”

  “We all pay drivers. Maybe that’s something you could do to occupy some time. I could spread the word around to friends and family.”

  Brock shook his head. “I don’t want to do it all the time for everyone. I prefer jobs where I work outside.” He winked at her, which was a bit unsettling. “But I’ll take you wherever you want to go.”

  Naomi wondered if he was flirting with her. It had been so long since Stephen courted her, she barely remembered what it felt like. Surely not, she decided. He was fourteen years older than her and a friend of her father’s. That made him safe. And safe was high on her priority list.

  Brock silently reprimanded himself for winking at Naomi. She’d blushed right away, and he didn’t want to do anything to make her feel uncomfortable. He enjoyed bringing in their hay. Something about being on a tractor made a man feel like a man, and when the weather cooperated, there was nothing better than a hard day’s work. He was thankful the rain hadn’t lasted.

  “I’ll just get my purse.” Naomi scooted around the corner, but peeked back around a few seconds later. “Will we be back before school is out?”

  “I’ll make sure we are.”

  She smiled and was gone again, returning with a small black purse. “Ready.”