A Flicker of Hope Read online

  “I see just about everyone cleared out,” Patty said.

  “Jah. Nett much anyone can do nau.”

  Her sister-in-law glanced over at the men. “I’m surprised Levi is still here. You heard Rebecca gave birth to a sohn earlier, didn’t you?”

  Noreen shook her head.

  “The boppli was, as Sadie told, a few cups shy of a ten-pound bag of sugar.”

  Noreen smiled. The district midwife had her own twist on newborn measurements. “He came early.”

  “A couple of weeks.”

  “Were you there to help?”

  Patty shook her head. “But from what I heard, she had quite the time of it. Sadie’s still with her.”

  Noreen understood why Rebecca hadn’t asked for her assistance, but Patty was a mother of six, a champ at giving birth.

  Patty motioned to the men. “So what are they doing with the shovels?”

  Noreen couldn’t help but wonder if her sister-in-law changed the subject for Noreen’s benefit. Patty had a tendency to tiptoe around the subject of babies and giving birth. But Noreen let it go. “I have no idea what they’re doing. Everything is still so hot. Even if they find something useful, it’s unlikely they’d be able to save it.” She sighed. In their small Amish district, they believed in living a simple lifestyle, avoiding modern conveniences, and not idolizing material belongings. It was a way of life she chose, but something told her this would be the first time she’d experience what going without really meant. Even though she and Thomas didn’t have much, it was hard to lose everything.

  “Well, I brought you these blankets and pillows, but I think you and Thomas should stay with us. Like you said, there isn’t anything more that can be done tonight. Besides that, it might get kalt.”

  “The fireman said something about watching for the fire to restart, so I don’t think Thomas will want to leave anytime soon.”

  Patty’s face puckered. “And you?”

  “I’ll stay with Thomas. He inhaled a lot of smoke. I don’t want to leave him alone.” Noreen reached for the bedding. “I’m sure these wool blankets will keep us plenty warm.” She planned to make a bed in the hayloft once everyone left.

  “I brought you a nacht dress, a pair of heavy socks, a bar of soap, washcloths, and in mei buggy are a couple quart jars filled with kaffi, cups, and a few cheese sandwiches. I’m guessing you haven’t eaten anything yet.”

  “Nay, I was in the process of preparing supper when the fire started.”

  “Ach.” Her friend’s eyes widened. “I didn’t realize the fire started in the kitchen.”

  Noreen nodded. “I’m nett sure what happened. I was down in the cellar at the time.”

  “You must have been terrified.” Patty rubbed her arms. “Just hearing about it makes the hair on my arms rise.”

  “It all happened so fast.” Noreen bowed her head. “I shouldn’t have been so careless.”

  “No one was hurt. We have a lot to be thankful for.”

  “Jah.”

  “I should have brought something more than just sandwiches and kaffi. I could have warmed up some yummasetti had I known.”

  “Sandwiches are plenty.” The smoky taste in her mouth had stolen her appetite. Noreen set the bedding on the chopping stump. “I’m sure you need to get home to the kinner. I’ll walk to the buggy with you. I think I could use a cup of that kaffi you brought.” She glanced over her shoulder at Thomas. Something told her this was going to be a long night.

  Light from the lantern Patty was carrying splayed across the ground and kept them from stumbling over debris. It seemed odd that only a few hours ago she was trying to choose which preserves to use to make dessert.

  The back end of Patty’s buggy had more supplies than just the coffee and sandwiches her friend had mentioned. Patty had thought to bring an extra lantern, bug spray, toiletries, and changes of clothes for both her and Thomas. Being brothers, Jonathan and Thomas were about the same height and build, so sharing clothes wouldn’t be a problem.

  Noreen held the quart jars of brewed coffee close to her body, the warmth spreading through the dress to her skin.

  The men lumbered toward the buggies, Thomas carrying a lantern, Jonathan and Levi supporting shovels on their shoulders, Patty’s sons toting the buckets. They stopped at the bishop’s buggy, parked a few feet away. Just as the womenfolk had made plans earlier for an upcoming sewing frolic, Noreen was sure the men would be talking about rebuilding the house. After a brief interchange, the bishop drove off. The brothers talked for a little longer, their muffled voices carrying over the evening air, congratulating Levi again. Levi went to his buggy, and Thomas, Jonathan, and the boys continued toward Patty and her.

  Yawning, Peter and Jacob tossed their buckets in the back and climbed into the buggy.

  Jonathan stood next to Patty and smiled lovingly at his wife. “Did you take Matthew and the girls home, fraa?”

  Noreen grinned at the affectionate way Jonathan always called his wife fraa, mamm, or Mrs. King—so different than Thomas, who barely called her at all.

  “Jah, they were worn out.” Patty yawned.

  Jonathan and Patty married less than a year before her and Thomas, and living next door, the four of them had always been close. Noreen had even assisted the midwife in bringing all six of Patty’s children into the world, and had witnessed firsthand the immediate bond formed between mother and child.

  Noreen turned to Thomas. His light brown hair was shades darker from black smoke and sweat matted to his forehead. “Patty brought us some sandwiches and kaffi.”

  Thomas smiled, forming tiny soot creases at the corners of his mouth. “Danki. We appreciate it.”

  “I told Noreen if you two wanted to kumm home with Jonathan and me, I’d heat up the leftover yummasetti.”

  “It was gut,” Jonathan added, patting his belly.

  “It sounds delicious,” Thomas said, his voice hoarse. “But I need to stay and make sure everything is okay. But, Noreen”—he faced her—“why don’t you stay with Patty tonight? You’ll be more comfortable.”

  “Nay,” Noreen flared, then, recognizing the sharpness, softened her tone. “Mei place is with you.” She shrank at Thomas’s furrowed brows. She hadn’t meant to upset him. He held his tongue, but he rarely said anything when tension rose between them. Sometimes his silent treatment went on for days. She hoped this wasn’t one of those times.

  After a few seconds of awkward silence, Jonathan spoke up. “We, ah . . . We should head home, fraa.” He took the shovel to the back of the buggy and tossed it inside with the buckets.

  Patty’s gaze darted between Noreen and Thomas. “Well,” she said, a hint of nervousness in her tone. “I hope you’ll join us for blueberry pancakes in the morning.”

  Noreen smiled weakly and made a noncommitting shrug she hoped her lifelong friend understood without words. It would be up to Thomas.

  Patty climbed into the buggy as Jonathan untied the horse’s reins from the tree branch. “Our door is unlocked if you get kalt or change your mind,” he said.

  “Danki,” Thomas replied. Although it was clear to Noreen that he had no intention of changing his mind, even if he got cold during the night.

  Noreen clutched the jars of coffee closer to her body. Once the buggy was in motion, she turned to her husband. “Would you like a sandwich and mug of kaffi?”

  “Maybe later.” He turned and ambled toward the burn pile, shoulders slumped. Noreen suspected it wasn’t just losing the house that had stolen Thomas’s joy. Noreen hadn’t seen a bounce in his step in a very long time.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  April, fifteen years earlier

  NOREEN PEERED OUT THE SITTING ROOM WINDOW, BUBBLING with anticipation as Thomas’s buggy pulled into the yard. He was early. An hour and a half early. Apparently, he hadn’t listened when she told him supper was at six. The yummasetti hadn’t even finished baking. She planned to make fresh biscuits to go with the noodle dish and banana pudding for dessert.
Noreen pressed her hands over the folds of her dingy gray dress. So much for changing into one of her Sunday dresses.

  Thomas climbed out of his buggy and tied his horse to the post next to the barn. He looked toward the house and shot a wave her direction.

  Noreen’s face warmed. She scooted away from the window, then, unable to restrain herself, peeked around the curtain. Thomas certainly had a self-assured bounce in his step. But he wasn’t heading to the house, he was going into the barn.

  Mamm’s voice rang out from behind her, startling Noreen. “Noreen, didn’t you say you wanted to make banana pudding?”

  “Oh, jah. I did—I mean I still do.” She hurried past her mother and went into the kitchen. Her heartbeat galloped at a pace that left her winded getting the ingredients together. After Thomas’s proposal last night, her mind wouldn’t rest. The lack of sleep was evident today. She couldn’t remember how many egg yolks to use. “Two—nay three.”

  Mamm lifted her brows. “Is everything all right?”

  “I couldn’t remember how many eggs. Strange, isn’t it so? I just made it last week for the Sunday meal.” Everything seemed strange lately. Mrs. Thomas King. Thomas’s fraa. Her thoughts went askew as she measured the milk, then the flour and sugar and, dumping the ingredients together in a saucepan, she recited her married name. Noreen King. She decided the name fit her.

  Mamm mixed the biscuit batter, humming cheerfully. Her mother sang whenever she was excited. Lately, she sang all the time.

  “Your father thinks we should have space for a small fabric department in the new store. Isn’t that exciting?”

  Nay. It’s sad. Depressing. Lonely. Her parents wanted to start a new life sixty miles away while she was trying to decide if she would start hers here in Presque Isle County with Thomas.

  “Your sisters are ecstatic about the idea.”

  She didn’t doubt that. Her two sisters married the Fisher brothers two years ago and had moved to Mio with their husbands’ family. Verna and Carol Diane had tried to convince Mamm and Daed to move two years ago and hadn’t stopped asking in the intervening years. After Daed’s accident last fall, her sisters increased pressure for the rest of the family to move. Financially, the move made sense. With her father unable to work, they weren’t able to keep up with the farm. He’d already sold off the land and the plow horses. The house was bound to go next.

  “We’ll take turns running the shop,” Mamm said.

  Noreen frowned. Her mother and older sisters had already planned Noreen’s future. She wanted to object, but this wasn’t the time, nor was she prepared to tell Mamm about Thomas’s proposal. “The yummasetti should be almost done, don’t you think?”

  “Jah, I’m sure it’s close.” Her mother removed a potholder from the drawer and used it to check the noodle dish. “A few more minutes yet.” She slid the pan back into the oven. “I put some packing boxes in your room. I know we’re nett leaving until the end of the month, but I thought you could pack your winter things.”

  “Do we have to talk about moving nau?” she snipped, then immediately regretted the tone she’d used. “I’m sorry.”

  “I know you don’t like the idea, but this is a chance for a fresh start.”

  “Jah, I know.” Noreen layered the sliced banana pieces over the pudding. Pleased with the appearance, she wiped her hands on a dishrag. “I’m going to run upstairs and change mei dress.” Not that she cared anymore about entertaining company. Noreen tossed the rag on the counter and hurried upstairs.

  Thomas rubbed his clammy hands on the sides of his pants. He’d never asked for permission to marry someone’s daughter before. The words he’d rehearsed on the ride over here slipped his mind when he spotted Noreen’s father dipping the old coffee can into the oat bin. Leaning over, Mr. Trombly’s spine rounded near the shoulders and upper back, giving him the distorted appearance of bending over much farther than he actually was. The hunched back was the result of an injury he sustained working in the field. Hired to help reap the fields, Thomas had been working to bundle the wheat stalks while Mr. Trombly was feeding the thrasher to separate the wheat from the straw. Thomas hadn’t seen the machine turn over on Mr. Trombly but he’d witnessed the spine-crushing results. His employer couldn’t feel his legs. He’d recovered better than expected, although as he healed, his spine, improperly aligned, fused together.

  “I heard you would be joining us for supper tonight,” Mr. Trombly said without glancing up from the barrel.

  “Jah, Noreen invited me.”

  The gray-bearded, fiftysomething-year-old man grimaced when he straightened. “Did she tell you we eat at six?”

  Thomas nodded. “I, ah . . .” He motioned to the can of oats. “Would you like me to feed the horses?”

  “I’m nett an invalid.” He ambled toward the stalls.

  “No, sir. I didn’t mean to imply that you were.” Thomas followed him to the buggy horse’s stall, noting the empty water trough when he peeked over the gate. Before he could offer to replenish the water, Mr. Trombly grabbed the bucket. He took a few steps and paused. “Here,” he said, steeling a grimace as he handed Thomas the pail. “Take this out to the pump and fill it, please.”

  Thomas gladly left to get water. He needed a chance to reformulate his approach. He cranked the iron handle a few times to prime the pump. “As you know, Mr. Trombly, your daughter and I have been courting for a while nau and we’ve developed feelings for one another.” Clumsy wording. He needed a more direct approach. “Noreen and I are in love.” Maybe. “I can’t live without her.” No. “I love your daughter and want to marry her.” He glanced at the house. Noreen was no longer standing in front of the sitting room window. He couldn’t see her in the kitchen either. Water gurgled up from the well and gushed into the bucket, filling it with one more hard thrust on the handle.

  Mr. Trombly was standing at the stall, chewing a long piece of straw and staring at the mare eating oats.

  Thomas emptied the bucket of water into the trough, then lowered the pail.

  Mr. Trombly removed the piece of straw from his mouth and twirled it between his thumb and index finger. “I’m sure you’ve heard by nau that I found a buyer for the farm. We’re moving at the end of the month.” He chomped on the straw once more as if silently informing Thomas there was nothing more to say over the matter.

  “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” Thomas dried his wet hands on the front of his shirt. “Noreen wants to stay here . . . with me.”

  Her father’s eyes narrowed on Thomas. He removed the straw and opened his mouth, but then tossed the straw and walked away.

  “We love each other,” Thomas said, trailing behind.

  “I gathered that much from what I overheard at the pump.” He kept walking.

  “You heard me?”

  “Sohn,” he said, stopping at the door to face Thomas. “The pump is only a few feet from the barn. I can hear supper called from the back pasture.”

  Heat rushed up Thomas’s neck and spread to his face. “Then you know we want to get married.” Mr. Trombly glared at him a moment, then continued out the door.

  Thomas crossed the lawn beside him. “You were the one who asked me to look after her after your accident.”

  “Because I thought I was going to die trapped under that machine.” He kept walking, his gait noticeably uneven.

  “I kept mei promise to you. Nau I want to take care of her the rest of mei life.”

  Noreen’s father stopped. “Nay, you were to look after her as an older bruder would—I trusted you.”

  Thomas looked down at his boots. He’d kept a brotherly distance for most of a year. He hadn’t even kissed her until he was sure he’d fallen in love.

  “You’re nett on rumschpringe. You’re a baptized member of the church.” He stopped a few feet from the porch and lowered his voice. “I should take you before the bishop and have you repent of your sins in front of the members for bringing mei daughter home muddy and soaking wet.
Her kapp was practically sideways on her head.” He shook his head. “I’m no fool. The rain had stopped before the singing ended.”

  Thomas swallowed hard. In hindsight, convincing Noreen to leave the singing early wasn’t the smartest thing he’d done, nor was getting caught in the rain.

  “You involved mei daughter’s gut name in gossip.” The older man crossed his arms. His stone-cold expression suggested he might be contemplating bringing the matter to the bishop.

  “I asked Noreen last nacht to marry me. The talk would stop if you granted us permission.”

  “She’s young—you’re both young.” He climbed the porch steps.

  “I’m twenty-four,” Thomas said, following him to the door. “Most of the men mei age are married. And plenty of maedels marry at eighteen.”

  “Because they have to,” Mr. Trombly growled under his breath.

  Thomas’s jaw tightened. “I can assure you,” he spoke slowly so that Noreen’s father got the point. “That isn’t the case with us.” He softened his tone. “I’m the same person you trusted to look after your daughter.” He huffed in frustration. “I didn’t plan to fall in love with her. It just happened.”

  After a moment of studying Thomas, Mr. Trombly opened the door. “You’re unprepared to ask for mei daughter’s hand. Where would you live?” He jerked his head, motioning Thomas, although begrudgingly, inside.

  “I own property. I’m going to build in”—Thomas’s gaze traveled up the staircase and stopped on Noreen—“stages,” he said, finishing his sentence without returning his attention to her father. Her cheeks turned a rosy shade as if she’d been able to read his mind. Easily embarrassed, she would cover her nose to hide her freckles any second. Although she wasn’t keen on her fair skin that burned easily in the summer, or that her hair was more red than brown, she was beautiful in every way to him. His gaze followed her down the remaining stairs and when she landed on the bottom step, he greeted her with a wide smile. “Hiya, Noreen.”

  “Hello, Thomas. I hope you like yummasetti.”

  Her blue dress brought out the vibrancy in her eyes. When she looked at him, her eyes’ pale blue hue almost seemed translucent. He’d once heard a person’s eyes were a reflection of their soul. She was beautiful, pure—refreshing as a cold drink on a hot day.