Naomi squeezed concealer into the palm of her hand, then gingerly dabbed it beneath her eye, smoothing it into her skin until the black circle was almost invisible. If anyone said anything, she’d feign lack of sleep and ask the Lord to forgive her lie. Again.
Growing up, Naomi’s father had rarely laid a hand on her and never in anger. Maybe twice she’d received spankings for acting out, but he’d never hit her in the face. In the beginning, it was confusing why Stephen seemed to take out his frustrations on her, but her husband was a good man. Stephen was a hard worker, a pillar in their community, and a handsome man whom others took notice of when they were out and about. He was a good father too. He wasn’t like other Amish husbands who left all the child-rearing to their wives. Stephen played with the children, and when they were infants, he’d even changed a few diapers.
They’d married when Naomi was seventeen, and over the past nine years, she had come to think that the problem must be her. She’d done her best to be a proper wife, even though she wasn’t a very good cook and her housekeeping skills could only be described as mediocre. But having two young children kept her busy, along with the list of daily chores that Stephen encouraged her to keep up with.
Naomi leaned closer to the mirror in the bathroom, proud that she’d learned how to apply the Englisch makeup she’d found at the market. It had taken several purchases before she’d found the color that matched her pale skin almost perfectly. She jumped when there was a knock at the door and quickly stashed the tube in the pocket of her apron, in case she needed a touch-up between worship service and the meal.
“You ready?”
She opened the door, faced her husband, and smiled. “Ya. All ready.”
Stephen looked at her, and for a few seconds, she thought maybe she hadn’t done a good enough job covering the black remnant of their argument a few days ago. But Stephen kissed her on the cheek, stepped back, and smiled.
“You are the most beautiful woman ever born. I’m a blessed man to have you as mei frau.” He pushed back a wayward piece of hair that had fallen from beneath her prayer covering, a gesture that used to make her jump. But she’d learned long ago that being timid only angered Stephen, so she’d trained herself not to flinch or cringe, no matter what might be coming.
“Danki,” she said. “I’m a blessed woman to have you also.”
He grabbed her hand and together they went downstairs. Abby and Esther Rose were sitting on the couch, dressed and ready for church. It would be a grand day of fellowship and worship, and like always, Naomi would ask God to help her be a better wife, someone who didn’t anger her husband so often.
Naomi followed Stephen and the girls down the porch steps, knowing her pace would be slow today, and probably for the next couple of weeks. A broken rib tended to slow a person down.