Chapter Six

Brock had a bounce in his step as he walked the length of Naomi’s yard, then up her porch steps. He heard giggling coming from inside. He almost always knocked and went in through the kitchen, but the laughter was coming from the living room so he veered toward that door. Abby opened the door before he knocked.

“We’re ready for rides!” She clapped her hands and pushed the screen open. Brock had to jump back so it didn’t hit him.

“I’m ready for rides too.” It was fun seeing Abby so excited, and Brock felt like a kid again. He couldn’t remember the last carnival he’d gone to. It was a beautiful, cloudless day with just enough breeze for a nip in the air, but when the warmth of the sun comingled with the coolness, it was just right.

“The girls are very excited,” Naomi said when she and Esther Rose came up behind Abby. Esther Rose was carrying a pink blanket. He’d noticed the child toting it around. He was a little surprised to see her bring it today, but he remembered his brother carting around a stuffed bear until he was much too old to be doing so. He hoped the blanket would stay in the truck while they walked around; he didn’t want to be searching the carnival grounds all night if she lost it.

Brock noticed they were all in black clothes again, but he didn’t say anything. Apparently, Naomi wasn’t ready to move on yet. Maybe Brock could give the three of them a fun day, even if his own boyish motivations had instigated the plans. The alfalfa needed another day to dry out anyway.

Naomi and Brock didn’t talk much, mostly because Abby and Esther Rose kept up a steady chatter from the backseat of Brock’s truck. Naomi was glad that there didn’t seem to be a need to make small talk since two things were sitting heavy on her heart. She reached into the pocket of her apron and touched the bag Pearl had given her, feeling silly for spending the money on such nonsense. But what if there was an ounce of truth in what Pearl said? Naomi was also still upset about her mother thinking she and the children should be in mourning longer. I thought it was my choice.

Brock got out of the truck with as much energy as the girls, and it was cute the way each of them grabbed one of his hands, even though it appeared to have caught Brock off guard as she saw him startle. Brock had mentioned that he didn’t know anything about children, but one thing about kinner—they had an uncanny ability to know adults, seeming to latch on or avoid without anything more than an instinct. Her girls liked Brock. Naomi lingered a couple of steps behind the trio and felt herself blush when her gaze found Brock’s backside. He wore dark jeans, and his red T-shirt stretched nicely across his broad shoulders. From behind, he looked like he could be her age. She’d noticed the first day she met him that he was a handsome man.

Naomi’s daughters looked even tinier than they were on either side of such a big man. He could really hurt someone if he was mad. Naomi hated that the thought popped into her mind. Brock was a friend of her father’s, and he seemed to have a gentle spirit. But after rolling it over in her mind, she sighed. Stephen had been a friend to everyone too. There hadn’t been a problem with anyone but her.

Brock should feel ridiculous riding a Ferris wheel with a seven-year-old, but as the breeze blew his hair and the sun warmed his face, visions of his childhood rose to the surface, and he suddenly missed his brother, the only family he had left. He was going to call Andrew and schedule a visit.

Abby’s bright eyes shone, and the smile on her face looked permanently affixed. Brock figured she wouldn’t be asking for her two front teeth for Christmas since the Amish holiday celebrations didn’t usually include Santa Claus. Strands of curly blond hair fell across Abby’s face as they neared the top of the ride.

It was more than just the rides that fueled Brock’s thoughts. It was the feel of family, the memories he’d made with Andrew when they were young, and the smell of popcorn, cotton candy, and funnel cakes. The weather, the scents, the laughter, the families . . . it all screamed of fall harvest time. He was glad that today he had borrowed a family to share the day with.

When loud screeching grinded the ride to a halt, Abby twisted to face him, her eyes wide as saucers . . . then she screamed. Brock had no idea that much noise could come from a child her size. He stared at her, held his breath, and had no idea what to do. The scream went on forever.

“Abby, it’s okay. We’re just stuck for a minute. We’re okay.”

That didn’t deter the child’s fear, and Brock found Naomi in the crowd below them with Esther Rose by her side, both of them looking up. Naomi had a hand to her forehead, blocking the sun, but the fear in her wide eyes prodded Brock to get control of this situation. He grabbed Abby’s hand and squeezed.

“Abby, Abby. Listen. This happens all the time.” He forced a smile, having no idea if that was true. He shrugged. “No big deal at all. Just part of the fun.” He looked down at the rungs that led from the top of the ride to the bottom, wondering if he’d be able to carry the child to safety if it came to that. Surely not. But in all his carnival memories, he couldn’t remember ever getting stuck on a ride.

“How long will we be here?” Abby’s bottom lip trembled. “Is this ride broken?”

Brock breathed a small sigh of relief that she’d stopped screaming. “No, it’s not broken, and we’ll be moving again soon. Then we can celebrate our adventure with some cotton candy or something.”

“What’s that?”

“Cotton candy?” Brock wasn’t sure how to explain it to her. “Um, it’s sweet. Lots of sugar. You’ll like it.” He decided distracting her was working. “That’s part of the fun of a carnival, eating all the foods they have.”

“Like ice cream?”

“Yep. I’m sure they have ice cream.”

Abby finally looked at the ground below them, and Naomi blew her a kiss and smiled. Brock took in another deep breath, wondering if she was going to scream again, but wondering even more when they would be moving again. Even Brock was beginning to feel unsettled, his stomach churning a little.

“Mei daed didn’t like ice cream.”

“At all? Not even plain old vanilla?” Brock had never heard of anyone not liking ice cream.

Abby shook her head. “Are we going to fall off this ride and die?”

Brock squeezed her hand again. “No, no, no. Of course not. Sometimes these things just happen with rides. Maybe they had to put grease on a part or something. Abby, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Mei daed died.”

Brock swallowed hard. “Yeah. I know.” He glanced at the little black dress and apron she was wearing again. “I bet you really miss him.”

She was quiet, but then waved to her mother, and thankfully, the ride slowly started to move again. “Ya, I miss him.”

Brock didn’t say anything, deciding to enjoy the view of Amish country as they neared the top of the ride again. Abby eased her hand from his, but her smile didn’t resurface.

“He was a gut daed.”

“I know. That’s what I heard. You probably have great memories of him.” Help, Lord. I really don’t want to mess up this conversation.

Abby turned to him, her lip quivering again. “He wasn’t always nice to Mamm, though.” She jumped when the ride stopped again, leaving them near the top.

“It’s okay.” He pointed to the ground. “See, they’re stopping to let people off. This is normal.” He thought for a few moments. “Well, even couples who love each other have arguments sometimes. But that doesn’t mean they don’t love each other.”

“When Mamm was bad, Daed would hit her. Not like a spanking.” Abby hung her head, sighing as if she had the wisdom of an adult, before she looked back at him. “Esther Rose doesn’t know, I don’t think. And that’s probably gut.”

Brock thought back to the conversation in Pennsylvania Deitsch between Naomi and Abby. This child is wise beyond her years. But had she misread her father’s actions somehow? “I’m sure he didn’t . . . hit her. Maybe you misunderstood what you saw, your dad was probably playing or something?”

“Nee.” Abby kept her eyes locked with Brock’s, even when the ride moved and stopped to let people off. She moved a strand of hair from across her face again. “He made her cry sometimes. Don’t tell Esther Rose. She’s too young to understand.”

You’re too young to understand. Brock glanced at Naomi, who had a hand to her chest, as if she were holding her breath, waiting for their turn to exit the ride. When it finally came, Abby ran straight to Naomi, threw her arms around her, and began telling Naomi about being stuck at the top.

Brock slowly caught up to them, but the conversation with Abby was just starting to catch up with him, and as he looked at Naomi and her children, he had to assume that Abby had misread something in her father’s actions. Brock didn’t want her to store those memories if they weren’t true. His thoughts were interrupted when Abby threw up, much of it landing on her sister’s pink blanket. It turns out that Esther Rose could scream louder than her sister.

Brock was mostly quiet on the way home, he couldn’t stop thinking about what Abby had told him. When it started to rain, his thoughts shifted, wondering if he had covered the alfalfa well enough. Either way, rain could set the hay baling back several more days, if it lasted.

Both girls had fallen asleep within minutes after they’d left the carnival, despite a massive overconsumption of sugar; from cotton candy, to ice cream, and everything else they set their sights on. Once Abby had purged, she was ready to match her sister’s sugar intake bite for bite. Naomi said Abby probably had too many cookies earlier in the day when they were visiting with their grandma, then the ride triggered the upset stomach. The resilience of youth. Naomi had cleaned up both girls, washed the blanket in the bathroom sink, and maintained the patience of a saint. He’d noticed that about Naomi. Even when the girls had bickered occasionally, Naomi was calm but firm. They were sweet kids, fun to be around, so the occasional tiff hadn’t bothered Brock.

“It’s hard to believe it’s raining so hard when it was so beautiful earlier.” Naomi glanced in the backseat. “Still sleeping.”

“Yeah, the rain kind of puts us behind schedule a little.” Brock shrugged. “But what can you do? Can’t control the weather, I guess.”

He thought about Abby again. The Amish weren’t immune to abuse, infidelity, addictions, or anything else that the rest of the world dealt with, but as he glanced at Naomi, he couldn’t imagine someone laying a hand on her, especially someone who should love and cherish her. And she was so tiny. And pregnant. Almost as upsetting was that Abby knew about it. Or thought she did. Brock was holding out hope that it wasn’t true.

It was pouring when they pulled in, and both girls were still sound asleep in the backseat. “Do you want to carry the smaller one and I’ll get the bigger one?” He realized right away he should have used their names. “I mean, I can get Abby if you want to get Esther Rose.”

She pointed to her stomach. “I-I can’t really carry Esther Rose being this far along. They’ll be okay walking.”

He knocked himself gently on the forehead with his hand. “Sorry. I forgot. No problem, I’ll get them both. There’s an umbrella under your seat, so use that for yourself, and I’ll try to keep the girls covered best I can with my coat.” He reached for a jacket on the back floorboard of the truck.

“Really. They can walk. I don’t know how you’re going to carry them both.” She found the umbrella, but looked over her shoulder. “Abby’s awake. We’ll make a run for it if you can get Esther Rose, and it won’t be the end of the world if we all get wet.” She smiled, then pulled the door open.

Once they were all in the house, dripping on the wood floor in the kitchen, Naomi handed him a kitchen towel while she dabbed at the girls’ faces, then sent them upstairs to bathe and change clothes. Naomi had done a pretty good job cleaning the girls and the little one’s blanket at the carnival, but Brock had caught a whiff of unpleasantness every now and then during the ride home. Probably Esther Rose’s blanket. If Brock hadn’t known better—and he didn’t—he might have thought Abby intentionally aimed for her sister’s treasured blanket.

“Well, thanks for sharing your kids with me today. It reminded me of when my brother and I used to go to carnivals when we were young. Good memories.”

“They had a wonderful time. And who knows when they’ll have the opportunity to go again.” Naomi reached down and flattened her palms against her stomach, then she looked up at him and smiled. “He’s moving.”

Brock stared at her hands, wondering how incredible it must feel to have a life moving inside you. “He? So, it’s a boy?”

Still smiling, she shrugged. “In my mind, it’s a he. But if it’s a girl, that’s gut with me too.”

Brock nodded. “Well, I hope you girls have a good night. I guess I’ll be back to work on Monday, weather permitting.” He walked onto the porch and sighed. Pouring. He turned when he heard the screen door slam behind him.

“Mr. Brock, do you want to stay for supper? It’s nothing fancy tonight. I was just going to make some chicken and dumplings, an easy version of my grandmother’s recipe.”

Brock’s mouth watered at the thought. Every meal Naomi had prepared had been nothing short of great. “Are you sure? I didn’t work today, so you don’t owe me a meal.”

She laughed. “After everything you did for my girls today, I owe you a lot more than a meal.”

Brock felt himself blush a little, unusual for him. Thankfully, Naomi didn’t seem to make the statement in the same way that he took it, which made him want to either laugh or knock himself upside the head. But either way, he was hungry and not looking forward to heading back into the downpour. “Sure. I’d love to stay.”

After they were back in the house, he offered to start a fire. The temperature had fallen as night grew near, and he and Naomi were still damp from the rain.

Naomi was tired, and the baby had been active the entire time she’d prepared supper. She loved feeling him—or her—moving inside of her. She recalled when that had stopped happening with Adam. She would do whatever it took to carry this baby full term. She’d been careful about not lifting anything heavy. She’d forced herself to calm down, even when Abby and Esther Rose took to bickering. And if a bag filled with herbs and a rock gave her peace of mind, she wasn’t going to beat herself up about the purchase.

While she finished supper, Brock read a book to the girls, at their insistence, sitting on either side of him on the couch. It was nice hearing him read to Abby and Esther Rose, something she hadn’t done enough of since Stephen died.

As Naomi placed rolls on the table, she called everyone to the kitchen, and once they were settled, they bowed their heads. Naomi silently recited her usual prayers and remembered to include Brock.

Her new friend had said that all he wanted was a quiet, peaceful existence, but Naomi had noticed some things about Brock that he perhaps wasn’t aware of himself. He’d said he didn’t think he would get married again. But he was so good with children, any family would be blessed to have him. But after thinking about it, Naomi decided it was not her place to make choices about the man’s future, so she prayed for his peace and happiness.

It rained all through supper, and as the wind whipped against the house and thunder rattled the windows, it felt gloomy in the dimly lit room. Naomi had never liked storms, even though they didn’t seem to bother her daughters. She turned up both the lanterns in the middle of the table to brighten the area. Brock went to put another log on the fire, sending orange sparks shimmying up the chimney, casting a distant glow in the living room.

Naomi sliced the chocolate cake she’d made early that morning, and they all ate it in the living room by the warmth of the fire. Shortly thereafter, despite the rain, Brock thanked her again for the meal, but said he should head home. Abby and Esther Rose each hugged Brock and thanked him for the fun day at the carnival. Neither one of her girls were overly affectionate, except with Naomi’s parents, and rarely with someone they didn’t know well.

Yawning, she got the girls all tucked in upstairs, then readied herself for bed. It had been such a good day. She put a hand across her stomach as she crawled into bed and felt her baby moving. Then she remembered the packet Pearl said to keep under her pillow when she slept. She got out of bed and dug through her laundry basket until she found her clothes from today. When the packet wasn’t in the pocket of her apron, she dumped all of the clothes on the floor and searched through each piece. It’s not here.

She carried her lantern through the living room and into the kitchen, looking everywhere. Next she tiptoed upstairs, wondering if somehow she’d leaned over when she tucked the girls in. After a quiet inspection, still nothing.

Silly superstition.

But as she climbed into bed, there was a sense of dread that she couldn’t shake. She curled onto her side and placed a hand across her stomach.