Amos fluffed his pillow, settled into the covers, and stared at the ceiling. There was no doubt Naomi had a negative reaction when he told her he was leaving. Now he couldn’t stop thinking about her question. Would he be leaving so soon if Thomas hadn’t come back?
He’d answered truthfully by saying they’d never know. Amos had a family and a business in Ohio. But would he have stayed long enough to see if the feelings he had for Naomi escalated into more than friendship? As it was now, all he could think about was the kiss they’d almost had, and what it would have been like. Although it would have been worse if he’d kissed her, making it harder to part ways.
As he tried to turn off his mind about Naomi, guilt moved in. He hadn’t thought about Sarah all day, maybe not even the day before, or the day before that. Amos had assumed he would think about her every day for the rest of his life. He would love her forever, but since he’d arrived in Indiana, she hadn’t consumed his thoughts as she had over the past year. Was it because of Naomi? Had there been more brewing between them than he’d realized?
He rolled over on his side, deciding it didn’t matter. Thomas was home.
* * *
Esther knocked on Gus’s door around ten, after she was sure everyone was asleep.
“I still have chocolate pie,” he said after he opened the door.
“Ach, ya, but I figured it was almost gone, and it did land upside down on your porch.” She pushed a covered plate toward him. “I brought you a slice of apple, one of pecan, and two fresh slices of chocolate.”
Gus actually smiled, but it was fleeting, and his signature scowl returned. “I’m already taking you to your medical tests. You aren’t going to ask me for another favor, are you?”
Esther stared at the ground for a couple seconds before she looked back at him. “Nee, Gus. I was just returning a kindness, and a deal’s a deal.”
“What kindness?” He crinkled his nose. “You widows hate me.”
“Gus . . .” Esther tried to choose her words carefully. He obviously didn’t recognize the kindness he’d shown her during the MRI earlier that day. “We don’t hate you.”
“That wacky sister of yours does.” He lifted the plastic wrap on one side of the plate, pulled out the slice of pecan pie, and took a big bite.
“Lizzie doesn’t hate you either.” Esther didn’t think Lizzie was capable of hating anyone, even though her feelings about Gus could definitely be described as a strong dislike.
“Thanks for the pie.” He closed the door in Esther’s face, but instead of being mad, she smiled. Gus could keep on pretending he was a horrible man, and maybe he had been, based on the comments she’d overheard from his daughter and her own prior experiences with him. But Esther had once again been given a glimpse of the man Gus could be.
All the way back to the house, she prayed that the Lord would open Gus’s heart so he could recognize the good in himself, then apply that goodness in his life. Then she recalled a comment Gus had made about God. Maybe Gus wasn’t a believer, but God believed in him. Over time, Esther hoped Gus would come to realize the current of love that flowed both ways.
* * *
Naomi stayed out of sight as Esther came up the porch steps, but she’d watched from the window when Esther came back from Gus’s house. She’d carried a lantern that lit the space around her just enough to see her expression when she got near the main house. In Naomi’s experience, there wasn’t much to smile about when it came to Gus. Esther had always been more tolerant of him than Lizzie was, but Naomi had heard her complaining about the man plenty of times.
She reached for her brush in the drawer of her nightstand and began running it through her brown hair, which reached well past her waist. Thomas had never seen her hair down. She’d always worn her prayer covering, even though lots of women she knew admitted that their husbands saw their hair down before they were married. Naomi wanted to keep with tradition. She pictured their wedding night—Thomas easing off her prayer covering, removing the pins that held her hair, and running his hands through it as it fell past her shoulders. She’d had the vision a hundred times, but tonight it didn’t hold the allure it once had. Why?
Amos. She couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if Thomas hadn’t returned. Would she and Amos have broken their own rule and fallen in love? He was right when he said they’d never know. She wondered if he regretted not having the opportunity. Naomi questioned why she was even considering it when it would never happen now, but she couldn’t corral her thoughts. What would have happened if Amos had kissed her?
As her mind drifted in another direction, she cringed when she thought about Thomas kissing another woman. She wondered if that was all they’d done. Thomas’s hands had always tried to drift to places they shouldn’t.
She climbed into bed, much later than normal, and somehow anger had latched on to her like a hungry tick, feeding on her until she festered. As she closed her eyes to try to sleep, she prayed for God to remove this delayed resentment from her heart.
She’d told Thomas they needed to look backward before they could move forward, and they’d done that, even if he had avoided some of her questions. Carrying the weight of the past wasn’t going to help them build a future together. She tried to push past her bitterness and sleep, but she tossed and turned for a long time.
* * *
Naomi yawned on and off during breakfast.
“Someone must not have slept well.” Lizzie smiled wide, which cheered Naomi up. Lizzie was always proud when she had her dentures in correctly, and she smiled at everything.
“Nee, I tossed and turned a lot.” Without being overt, she couldn’t look at Amos sitting next to her. She had a strong urge to have a conversation with him, even though she had no idea what she wanted to say, which sounded silly in her mind.
He pushed back his chair, stood up, and looked at Naomi. “Danki for another gut meal. Mei mamm is a wonderful cook, but I think you’ve outdone her.” He grinned. “But let’s don’t ever tell her that.” He chuckled, as if going home didn’t hold any consequences or regrets for him. “I’ll miss these great meals when I leave.”
“Miss them? Leave?” Lizzie glanced at Esther, then back at Amos. “There’s still a lot to do here. I hope you aren’t leaving soon.”
“In a week,” he said, still seemingly unaffected. “I will have completed everything on the list, and by the time I get home, Thanksgiving will only be a couple weeks away.” Looking directly at Naomi, he said, “But I’ve enjoyed mei time here very much, and I’ve gotten reacquainted with painting and plan to keep doing it when I get home.”
Naomi hadn’t even thought about Thanksgiving. Of course he’d want to spend the holiday with his family.
Lizzie didn’t say anything. Neither did Esther. How could they argue with him for wanting to be home at Thanksgiving?
After he left, Lizzie groaned softly. Esther remained quiet.
“You know I’m with Thomas now, and we’re planning our wedding for next fall. There is no hope of pushing Amos and me together.” She glanced back and forth between Esther and Lizzie, pointing a finger. “So no trickery. No locking us in the basement or any other crazy thing to make him stay. Surely you understand that he wants to be with his family for Thanksgiving.”
Esther sighed. “Of course, dear.”
Lizzie raised her chin and sat taller. “With a little more time, I think you’d realize that Amos is a much better fit for you than Thomas.”
“I’m a grown woman, Lizzie. I’m quite capable of choosing who is the best fit for me, and I’d like to spend the rest of mei life with Thomas.” Naomi’s voice had risen as she spoke, a surprise even to her. Was she trying to convince herself she’d made the right decision? She wasn’t even sure there was a decision on the table.
They were quiet, and then they all cleaned the kitchen together. When they were done, Naomi waited until Esther and Lizzie were occupied before she walked out to the barn. She pulled the door open and noticed it didn’t stick or squeak anymore.
“You fixed the barn door,” she said as she came inside, shivering.
“And you forgot your cape again.” Amos slipped out of his jacket and put it around her shoulders, lingering close to her for longer than was necessary before he moved back to the workbench.
Naomi pulled the coat around her and eased her way next to him. “What are you working on?”
He stretched some chicken wire taut, securing it to a frame. “I found where your chickens are getting out, so I’m adding some reinforcement.”
“Oh.” She folded her hands in front of her. “I’d like to paint with you tonight, if that’s okay.”
“Ya, sure.” He glanced at her. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
Naomi shrugged. She wished he had been a tad more excited, or even just happy to have company, but he sounded nonchalant, like he didn’t care one way or the other.
“What about Thomas? You’ve been with him every night but one since he came back.” He tugged on the wire and then reached for a hammer.
Ah, maybe he cares a little. “He doesn’t tell me what to do. He won’t mind.” Naomi wondered where this attitude was coming from.
“You sure about that?” Grinning, Amos cut his eyes at her briefly. “I’m not sure he was happy about us staying under the same roof.”
Naomi waved a hand in the air. “Ach, he got over that. He knows there is nothing between us.” She’d intentionally not mentioned Amos’s name around Thomas, based on his initial reaction to him.
“Then I guess I’ll see you at dinner, supper, and then down by the pond.”
It sounded like he was dismissing her. “Um . . . okay.” She handed him back his coat, then slowly walked to the exit, but he never said anything else as she closed the repaired barn door behind her.
* * *
Amos waited a few minutes then put down the hammer, sat on the stool, and held his head in his hands. Naomi’s presence was starting to unravel him, and now he’d be alone with her tonight. Maybe he should leave before the week was up.
“Wie bischt, Amos.”
He spun around. “Esther. Everything okay?”
“Ya, ya.” She walked his way and stopped directly in front of him, fully dressed in her cape and bonnet. “Lizzie and I will be going to town for a while. I just wanted to let you know.”
Esther and Lizzie weren’t in the habit of sharing their itineraries with him.
“Do you need anything while we’re out?” Esther fumbled with the straps of her small black purse.
“Nee, I don’t think so, but danki for asking.”
Esther cleared her throat. “It’s not too late, you know.” She waited until Amos locked eyes with her.
“Not too late for what?”
Esther sighed. “Lizzie and I are two silly old women. We know that.” She paused. “And we meddle sometimes when we shouldn’t. But it’s always with the best of intentions. And I don’t think I can let you leave without telling you that . . . it’s not too late.” She winked at him. “Now, I’m off to the market.”
She was gone before Amos could respond, which was probably a good thing since he had no idea what to say.
* * *
Naomi didn’t feel like herself, and she’d tried all day to figure out what exactly was bothering her. Was it the delayed anger about Thomas being with another woman, or something—or someone—else?
She’d slipped out of the house before the noon meal and left Amos a note that his dinner was keeping warm in the oven. Then she’d gone to the lumberyard at a time when she knew Thomas would be eating out somewhere. She left a note with the woman at the front desk, telling Thomas she couldn’t meet for supper this evening. She didn’t give an excuse, just said she’d see him the next night.
Now her stomach was churning almost as much as the confusing thoughts swirling around in her mind.
By suppertime her nerves still hadn’t settled, nor had she regained her appetite. There was something she needed to know. Hopefully after she had her answer she could settle down.
She did her best to engage in polite conversation at supper, but her thoughts remained elsewhere. After the meal, Amos gathered up the painting supplies from the basement. He’d barely loaded everything in the wagon on the porch when Esther smiled.
“He’s got two easels,” Lizzie said as she pressed her palms together and grinned.
Naomi scurried to clear the dishes, pretending to ignore Lizzie’s comment.
“Hmm . . .” Esther chimed in.
Naomi faced the women with her hands on her hips. “I like to paint. Amos likes to paint.”
Esther stood, and Lizzie practically jumped up. “Go take advantage of all the daylight you can,” Esther said as she stacked dishes on the table. “Lizzie and I can finish up in here.”
“I always used to clean up, and I’ve already been shirking mei responsibilities by letting Lizzie do the dishes so I could go to supper with Thomas.”
“Mei maedel, we’ve got this.” Esther put a hand on Naomi’s arm. “He’s leaving in a week, so go enjoy having a painting partner.”
Naomi opened her mouth to argue, but decided it wasn’t worth it. Lizzie and Esther would probably pound her with questions if she stayed.
“Ya, okay.” She was anxious to get to the pond, and she didn’t feel like putting up more of a fight.
By the time she reached him, Amos had everything set up.
“I brought the painting you’d been working on and a new canvas.” He handed her a palette. “I didn’t know if you wanted to keep working on the other one or . . .” He paused, any emotion he might be feeling suppressed behind a stoic expression. “Or start over.”
Silence lengthened between them until it became awkward.
“I’d like to start over.” Naomi picked up the blank canvas and positioned it on the empty easel.
“Sometimes a fresh start is the best way to move forward.”
She couldn’t read his expression, but his eyes gave him away. They were filled with a longing Naomi understood. As his mouth became the focus of her attention, she forced herself to look away.
“And sometimes fixing what is broken is worth it.” He nodded to her partially completed painting in the wagon, then at her blank canvas, which suddenly seemed to represent her life, her entire future.
“I guess you have to decide.” His voice was level and without emotion, but his eyes beckoned her in a way that caused a tingling in the pit of her stomach.
Naomi wanted to look away, to pull her gaze from the temptation he posed. She’d worn a heavy coat this evening, and the air was still. The shivers down her spine couldn’t be blamed on the weather. As he moved closer to her, she dropped the paint palette but barely noticed as his steady gaze bore into her.
She had her answer—there was a decision on the table, after all. Her knees trembled and her heart pounded as if it would burst from her chest.
“Tell me to stop,” Amos said softly, his eyes never leaving hers as his broad shoulders blocked the setting sun.
She’d never kissed anyone besides Thomas, nor had she ever wanted to.
Until now.