Shelter in the Storm by Laurel Blount

Author:Laurel Blount [Blount, Laurel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2021-05-25T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

Naomi sighed as she navigated the last of the steps, balancing the heavy tray in her hands. Miriam had eaten next to nothing, and the kitchen was as empty as it had been when she’d gone upstairs. The place she’d set at the table was still undisturbed, meaning Joseph hadn’t come in for his breakfast. He was running very late this morning.

She set the tray beside the sink and tiptoed to scan the yard. Joseph was nowhere in sight.

She’d peeked out of the upstairs window earlier and seen the bishop’s buggy pulling up. What a relief that had been—until Rhoda had come in and said her goodbyes. Miriam had wept, and Naomi’s joy had deflated into concern.

Rhoda hadn’t explained much, only that she would be going away for a while. Likely, she was trying not to upset Miriam any more than she had to, but Naomi knew there must be more to it. Katie had hinted as much last night, something she’d seen or heard pass between Joseph and Rhoda when she’d gone for the buggy. Naomi had felt far too tired to listen to Katie’s gossip, and she’d cut her cousin off in mid-sentence. Now, she wished she’d been more patient.

Naomi scraped Miriam’s uneaten sausage, eggs, and toast into a bowl to take out to the chickens, feeling uneasy. The fact that Joseph hadn’t come in for breakfast was worrisome. Born and bred to the rigid rhythms of milking schedules, the man followed his routine as faithfully as the sun.

Naomi reached for her bonnet and shawl. She’d run these leftovers out to the chickens a little earlier than she’d planned. If she happened to bump into Joseph while she was out in the yard, well, that would just be a happy accident.

The delighted hens clucked greedily over the scraps, even though Joseph had already filled their hanging metal feeder with scratch and layer pellets. He’d finished the chores then. So where was he?

Naomi collected the warm brown eggs from the nesting boxes, even though there were only half so many as there would be a few hours later in the morning. She nestled them in the empty bowl and carried them back to the house.

Pausing by the steps, she glanced in the direction of the woodworking shop. She could check there before she went inside to finish the dishes. Normally Joseph didn’t go out to the shop until after breakfast, but maybe today he’d changed his mind. She set the eggs carefully on the top step and started across the yard.

But when she eased open the creaky door, the little lean-to was empty and still as neat as when Joseph had tidied it the previous night. He’d not been in here yet this morning.

Naomi lingered inside the door for a moment, inhaling the sharp odor of freshly sawn wood. Such a gut smell, she thought, bringing to mind both old things and new. It was the scent she most associated with Joseph.

She liked it very much.

Naomi stepped back into the yard, closing the door carefully behind herself.

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