A Simple Charity

1

JULY

T
he purple of dusk still cloaked the sky as Fanny Lapp lifted her five-month-old son from the infant seat in the buggy and cooed to soothe him. “I know, I know. It’s too early to be awake. You can sleep when we get inside.” Shifting the little one onto her shoulder, she walked the small path bordered by red and yellow pansies and knocked on the door.

Today promised to be a warm one, with the wonderful good blessing of a new baby for Lizzy and Joe. Seeing a child into the world was the sweetest delight a person could know—though it came with its inconveniences. When she had agreed to cover for Anna Beiler for a spell while the midwife went to visit her family in Florida, Fanny had not imagined herself traipsing through the night with her own baby in tow. How quickly she’d forgotten that
babes came into the world on their own schedule, whether it be stretched over three long summer days or as quick as a teapot comes to the boil.

First-time mothers could be a trial, not knowing what was to happen, but Lizzy King was different. Maybe because Lizzy knew about the dark patch of sorrow and grief Fanny was working through. Or maybe because it had taken this couple longer than most to be blessed in this way.

The door was opened by Lizzy’s husband, Market Joe, a young Amish man with a broad, friendly face and thick black-framed glasses. “It’s Fanny,” he called to his wife, opening the door wide. “Come.” With the excitement and nervousness of a first-time father, Joe scampered over to his wife, who stood leaning over a chair, breathing through a contraction.

Stepping inside, Fanny smiled at the young man and his wife. Ah, how dear they were to her heart! Although Joe and Lizzy King were not family, Fanny felt a special attachment to the couple, who had shared her family’s fears and grief after the tragic car accident six months ago. Joe and Lizzy had been in the van with Fanny’s husband, dear Tom, who had been taken by Gott.

The house smelled sweet, of cinnamon and sugar. “Someone’s been baking,” Fanny said.

“Lizzy made cookies, in the middle of everything,” Joe said. “And you brought little Tommy this time. Come. We’ve got a place for the boy.” He scrambled back behind Fanny to close the door.

“Lizzy.” Fanny rocked Tommy back and forth as she made a quick assessment of Lizzy, who wore exhaustion on her pale face. A midwife had to learn much from the first look at a mother, especially since a husband often did not pass along details of his wife’s condition when he called in a fit of jitters. Instinct told Fanny that the baby was still a good two hours away. “Looks like you’re coming along fine.”

“You were right about staying on my feet.” Lizzy gripped the top of the ladder-back chair so firmly, her knuckles were white. “I baked a batch of snickerdoodles. That got things moving along.”

When Fanny had come out last night around ten o’clock, Lizzy had been resting in bed, still in the very early stages of labor. Since Lizzy’s pains had been nothing more than occasional cramps, Fanny knew she need not stick around. She had left the couple with instructions that Lizzy do some walking, and a promise that she would return before dawn.

Fanny felt her son’s head stirring on her shoulder as she spotted a pile of quilts set up on the living room floor.

“We made a
Budda Nesht
for Tommy,” Joe said.

“Looks cozy.” Fanny squatted down beside the nest of blankets and placed her son in the center of the thick bedding. His lips formed a pout, then opened slightly as a look of peace softened his face. Covering him with a soft blanket, she bent down to kiss his forehead. “Sleep well,
liebe
.”

“It’s good you returned.” Joe stood at Lizzy’s side, rubbing her back. “She’s been walking and standing most of the night, just like you told us, Fanny.”

“Good. I knew you would follow advice. You’re a good patient, Lizzy.”

“Maybe not so much. I’m sorry for getting you out here last night, with the baby not really coming yet. When everything started, I got a little scared.”

“It was no problem at all,” Fanny said, comforting the younger woman. “The first baby usually takes its time, but this is all new for you. I liken it to a road you never traveled before. You need directions and a companion at your side. Joe has taken good care of you. Now it’s my turn.”

With her little one tucked away, Fanny took charge of the situation. The house was tidy, but Lizzy looked tired, and she needed to
be strong for the pushing part of labor. “You go into the bedroom and change your clothes. The walking has helped your labor to progress, but now you need some rest.”

As Lizzy waddled into the bedroom, Fanny turned to Joe and asked if Doc Trueherz was on his way. Fanny was happy to help Amish mothers bring their babies into the world, but the doctor was always in charge.

“I called, and Celeste said Dr. Minetta was coming.”

“Not Doc Trueherz?” Lizzy paused in the hall, strain showing in her face. Most everyone liked Henry Trueherz, the country doctor who had served the Amish for years.

Joe readjusted his black-framed glasses on the bridge of his nose. “The regular doc’s gone to the city. This Minetta fella is filling in.”

“He’s a good doctor, too,” Fanny said, holding back her concerns. Both times she had encountered Dr. Minetta, she had been assisting Anna, and both times he had been late. Most doctors were not familiar with the farm roads and unmarked lanes of Lancaster County, which Doc Trueherz knew well from twenty years of making house calls. Dr. Minetta had arrived so late to one of the births, the baby had already been diapered and wrapped. Fanny hoped he would be prompt today.