Going Home (9 page)

“Did you bring any of your baked goods in your lunch today?”

Noah turned his head at the sound of his boss’s voice. He hadn’t realized Hank had moved over to his row of trees. “I made some oatmeal bread last night,” Noah said. “Brought you and your wife a loaf of it.”

Hank lowered the volume, set his portable radio on the ground, and hunkered down beside Noah. “You’re the best! Sure hope your mama knows how lucky she is to have you still living at home.”

Noah snickered. “I think she appreciates my help in the kitchen, but I’m not sure how lucky she is.”

“A fellow like you ought to be married and raising babies, like those nine brothers of yours have done. Between your cooking and baking skills and the concern you show over a weak little tree, I’d say you would make one fine husband and daddy.” Hank nodded toward the struggling pine Noah had been studying before he let his thoughts carry him away.

Noah felt a flush of heat climb up the back of his neck and spread to his cheeks. He hated how easily he blushed.

“Didn’t mean to embarrass you. I’m glad to have someone as caring as you working here at Osborns’ Christmas Tree Farm.” Hank clasped Noah’s shoulder. “Besides that, you’re easy to talk to.”

“Sure hope so.” It was then that Noah noticed his boss’s
wrinkled forehead. “Is there something wrong, Hank? You look so thoughtful.”

Hank ran his fingers through his thick, auburn-colored hair. “To tell you the truth, something’s bothering me.”

Noah got to his feet, and Hank did the same. “Is there a problem with your business? Are you concerned that you won’t sell as many trees this year as you have before?”

“It’s got nothing to do with business. It’s about me and Sandy.”

“What’s the problem?” Noah kicked a clump of grass with the toe of his boot. “Or would you rather not talk about it?”

Hank shook his head. “I don’t mind telling you. In fact, it might do me some good to get this off my chest.”

Concern for his boss welled in Noah’s soul, and he clasped Hank’s shoulder. “Whatever you say will remain between the two of us; you can be sure of that.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.” Hank drew in a breath and let it out with a huff. “The thing is. . .Sandy and I have been trying to have a baby for the last couple of years, and yesterday afternoon we went to see a specialist in Springfield and found out that Sandy’s unable to conceive.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I’m sure you would both make good parents.”

“We’ve wanted children ever since we got married ten years ago, but we were waiting to start our family until I got my business going good.” Hank sighed. “Now that we can finally afford to have a baby, we get hit with the news that Sandy is barren.”

Noah wasn’t sure how to respond. Among his people, folks
didn’t wait until they were financially ready to have a baby. Children came in God’s time, whether a couple felt ready or not.

“After we left the doctor’s office, Sandy acted real depressed and would barely speak to me. I have to admit, I was pretty upset when I heard the news, too.” Hank grunted. “Then last night when we were getting ready for bed, she said, ‘I think you don’t love me anymore because I can’t give you children.’”

“What’d you say to that?”

“I tried to convince her that I do love her, but she wouldn’t listen to me.”

Noah rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he contemplated his reply. “She probably needs time to adjust to things, and if you let her know through your kind words and actions, she’ll soon realize that your love isn’t conditional.”

“You’re right. It’s not. I would love Sandy no matter what. Even though it would be nice to have a baby of our own, it’s not nearly as important to me as having Sandy as my wife.”

“Maybe if you keep telling her that, she’ll begin to realize it’s true.”

“Yeah, I hope so.”

Noah didn’t know why he was telling Hank all this; he was sure no expert on the subject of marriage. Even so, he felt he had to say something that might help his boss feel better about things.

“Have you thought about taking in a foster child or adopting a baby?” Noah asked.

Hank shook his head. “Oh, I don’t know. . . . I don’t think Sandy would go for that idea.”

“Why not?”

“Because she wants her own child. She said so many times during the two years we tried to have a baby.”

“She might change her mind now that she knows she’s unable to have children of her own.”

“I—I suppose she could, but she’s so upset right now. I don’t think it’s a good time to talk about adoption.” Hank stared at the ground.

“Maybe not, but it’s something to consider.” Noah paused and reflected on his next words, knowing that Hank wasn’t a particularly religious man. “I want you to know that I’ll be praying for you.”

“Thanks.” Hank looked up and clasped Noah’s shoulder. “You’re a good man, and I count it a privilege to have you as my employee and my friend.”

“Same goes for me.” Noah smiled. “And I really enjoy working with all these,” he added, motioning to the trees surrounding them.

“You might not say that come fall when things get really busy.”

“I made it through last year and lived to tell about it,” Noah said with a laugh. The month or so before Christmas was always hectic at the tree farm. In early November, trees were cut, netted, and bundled for pickup by various lots. Many people in the area came to the Osborns’ to choose and cut their own trees, as well. Some folks dropped by as early as the first of October to reserve their pine.

Hank’s wife ran the gift shop, located in one section of the
barn. She took in a lot of items on consignment from the local people, including several who were Amish. Everything from homemade peanut brittle to pinecone-decorated wreaths was sold at the gift store, and Sandy always served her customers a treat before they left the rustic-looking building Hank had built for her a few years ago. Last year Noah had contributed some baked goods, and his desserts had been well received. He hoped things would work out for Sandy and Hank, because they were both nice people.

“I appreciate you listening to my tale of woe, but now I guess I’d better move on to the next row and see how Fred and Bob are doing,” Hank said, breaking into Noah’s thoughts. “Want me to leave the radio with you?”

Noah shook his head. “No, thanks. The melody the birds are making is all the music I need.”

Hank thumped Noah lightly on the back. “All right, then. See you up at the barn at lunchtime.”

“Sure thing.” Noah moved on down the row of pines to check several more seedlings. As a father would tend his child, he took special care with each struggling tree. He figured, like everything else the good Lord created, these future Christmas trees needed tender, loving care.

As Noah thought about Hank’s comment concerning him making a good husband and father, an uninvited image of Faith Andrews popped into his mind. He could see her look of confusion when he’d given her the cake.

“Now why am I thinking about her again?” he muttered. No question about it—Faith was a fine-looking woman. From what
he remembered of the way Faith used to be, she could be a lot of fun. But Noah was sure there was no hope of her ever being interested in someone like him.

I’m shy; she’s outgoing. I’m plain; she’s beautiful. I’m twenty-four; she’s twenty-eight. I’m firmly committed to the Amish faith, and she’s—what exactly is Faith committed to?
Noah determined to find that out as soon as he got to know her better.

N
oah stood on the front porch of his folks’ rambling, two-story farmhouse, leaning against the railing and gazing into the yard. Pop had built this place shortly after he and Mom moved to Missouri from the state of Indiana. Twenty-three other families had joined them in establishing the first Amish community on the outskirts of the small town of Seymour. Now, nearly two hundred Plain families lived in the area. Some had moved here from other parts of the country, while others came about from marriages and children being born to those who had chosen to stay and make their home in the area.

Noah and his brothers were some of those born and raised in Webster County, and Noah had never traveled any farther than the town of Springfield. He had no desire to see the world like some folks did. He loved it here and was content to stay near those he cared about so deeply.

His brothers Chester, Jonas, and Harvey had moved to northern Missouri with their wives and children. Lloyd, Lyle, Rube, and Henry now lived in Illinois. Only William, Peter, and Noah had chosen to stay in the area. Each had his own farm, although some had opened businesses to supplement their income.

Noah’s thoughts darted ahead to his plans for the next day. Church was held every other Sunday, and since tomorrow was a preaching Sunday, Noah planned to speak with Faith. He wanted to find out if she had enjoyed his lemon sponge cake and see what she thought of the verse he’d attached. He contemplated the idea of taking her another one of his baked goods but decided she might think he was being pushy. From the few minutes they’d spent together, Noah guessed Faith felt uncomfortable and probably needed a friend. Maybe he could be her friend, if she would let him.

He gulped in a deep breath of the evening air and flopped into Pop’s wooden rocking chair. It smelled as if rain was coming, and with the oppressing heat they’d been having lately, the land could surely use a good dousing.

A short time later, a streak of lightning shot across the sky, followed by a thunderous roar that shook the whole house.

“Jah, a summer storm’s definitely coming,” he murmured. “Guess I’d best be getting to bed, or I’ll be tempted to sit out here and watch it all night.” Noah had enjoyed watching thunderstorms ever since he was a boy. Something fascinated him about the way lightning zigzagged across the sky as the rain pelted the earth. It made Noah realize the awesomeness of God’s
power. Everything on earth was under the Master’s hand, and Noah never ceased to marvel at the majesty of it all.

He rose from his chair just as the rain started to fall. It fell lightly at first but soon began to pummel the ground. He gazed up at the dismal, gray sky. “Keep us all safe this night, Lord.”

Faith shuddered and pulled the sides of her pillow around her ears as she tried to drown out the sound of the storm brewing outside her bedroom window. She’d been afraid of storms since she was a child and had often been teased by her older brothers about being a scaredy-cat. But she couldn’t help it. Everyone had something they were afraid of, didn’t they?

“Mama, I heard an awful boom,” Melinda said as she crept into Faith’s room, wearing one of Susie’s long white nightgowns and holding the vinyl doll her father had given her on the Christmas before he’d been killed.

Faith motioned Melinda over to the bed. “It’s just some thunder rumbling,” she said, hoping she sounded braver than she felt.

“I don’t like the thunder, and I’ve got a tummy ache. Can I sleep with you?”

“Is Susie awake, too?”

“Nope. She’s sound asleep. Didn’t even budge when I got out of bed.”

“Okay, come on in.” Faith pulled the covers aside and scooted over.

Another clap of thunder sounded, and Melinda hopped into bed with a yelp. Faith figured her own fear of storms must be hereditary. No wonder Melinda had a stomachache. Seeing the way the windows rattled and hearing the terrible boom of the thunder was enough to make anyone feel sick.

“I hope Susie won’t be too disappointed when she wakes up in the morning and discovers you’re not in her room,” Faith said as Melinda snuggled against her arm.

“Why would she be disappointed?”

Faith swallowed a couple of times as she thought of the best way to say what was on her mind. She wanted Melinda to bond with Susie and the rest of the family so that, when Faith headed back on the road, Melinda would feel like she belonged here. “I’ve. . .uh. . .seen how well you and Susie have been getting along since we came here, and I’m hoping the two of you can always be friends.”

“You’re my friend, too, Mama,” Melinda said as her voice took on a sleepy tone. “Always and forever.” The child’s eyes drifted shut, and her breathing became heavy as she drifted off to sleep.

Another rumble of thunder sounded, and Faith turned her head toward the window. “Dear God, give me the strength to leave when it’s time to go,” she murmured. It was her first prayer in a long time. “Now where did that come from?” For many years, Faith had done everything in her own strength, and she’d come to believe that she didn’t need anyone’s help, not even God’s. So why had she prayed out loud like that? And why, as she snuggled against her daughter, did she find herself wishing
she didn’t have to leave Webster County? If she stayed, she would have to give up yodeling and telling jokes, and she didn’t think she could endure the somber life her folks would expect her to live. No, she had to go.