An Amish Man of Ice Mountain (The Amish of Ice Mountain Series Book 2) (12 page)

Chapter Twenty

A loud crack of thunder signaled to Joseph the imminent downpour and he quickly grabbed up Priscilla’s basketful of lilacs and caught her hand.

“
Kumme
on, or we’ll be drenched. Let’s go to Grossmudder May’s.”

He heard Priscilla’s laughter as they ran in the now pattering rain, which quickly turned into huge drops. He glanced at her by his side; her
kapp
askew, her beautiful face upturned to the heavens, and her small bare feet slapping in the growing mud. He felt he’d remember her for always in that moment of freedom.

They reached the porch of Grossmudder May’s cabin, wet but still laughing, and would have entered but for the sight of Jude Lyons suddenly appearing over the rise on his brown horse. Joseph immediately sobered.

“Something’s wrong,” he said to Priscilla through the downpour as Jude flung the reins over a bush and frantically climbed the steps to them.

“It’s Mary,” Jude shouted. “She dropped Hollie off at the schoolhouse and I thought she looked pale, but when I got home for lunch, she was lying on the bed in terrible pain . . . there was blood.” He moved to brush past them. “I need Grossmudder May.”

Joseph looked down into Priscilla’s worried blue eyes. “The
boppli
. . .” he said, not even able to name the fear he felt for his sister.

“Grossmudder May will help.” Priscilla pressed his arm in support, but Jude emerged from the cabin, his handsome face pale.

“She’s not here! I’ve got to go down the mountain for a doctor.”

“In this storm, on a horse? You’ll break your neck.” Joseph caught his
bruder
-in-law’s arm, but Jude shook him off.

“Go stay with her, please. I’ve got to try!” Jude ran down the steps and mounted the horse, setting off at a dangerous pace.

Joseph grabbed Priscilla’s hand and they began to run as fast as the rain would allow.
Dear Gott . . . help my sister. Have mercy on her and the babe . . .
His prayers beat a tattoo in time with the sloshing pound of his footsteps and he knew by the way that Priscilla’s lips were moving that she was praying too.

They passed the school
haus
in another clap of thunder and Bishop Umble’s wife waved them on.

“She’ll be watching the
kinner
and Hollie,” Joseph called as Priscilla slipped. He paused only a moment to help her up and then they continued on, the quarter mile feeling like a path of eternity.

Finally they came to Mary and Jude’s cabin and Joseph was surprised when Priscilla’s wet hand clamped onto his at the door latch. He looked down into her soaked, mud-splotched face and saw her lift her chin.

“I can help, Joseph. I know what to do. I delivered Hollie by myself.”

Priscilla ignored the look of shock on Joseph’s face and pushed open the door. She immediately went to the kitchen to wash her hands over and over with the homemade lye soap she found under the sink. Then she went to the master bedroom. Joseph was kneeling by the bed, holding Mary’s hand.

Priscilla’s heart leapt in her throat when she saw the dreadful paleness on Mary’s face, but she squared her shoulders and pushed at Joseph, using her elbow. “Go and wash your hands. I’ll need your help.”

Thankfully, he rose and did as she asked, allowing her to gently lift Mary’s dress. Mary moaned and didn’t open her eyes as Priscilla began to talk to her. “Okay . . . okay . . . there’s a lot of blood or else there just looks like there’s a lot. These things can be deceptive. We’re going to get through this, Mary. Your
boppli
is going to live.”
Please, dear God, let this baby live . . .

“Jah,”
Mary whispered weakly.

Priscilla laid a hand on Mary’s brow and found her to be hot with fever. “Colonized strep B can produce a high fever at birth . . .”

“What?” Joseph asked, returning, soft-footed, into the room.

“It’s a type of strep that can be present at birth. It technically needs antibiotics, but if we can get the baby delivered, we can limit the potential damage.” Priscilla pressed gently on Mary’s swollen abdomen.

“You sound like a doctor,” Joseph murmured.

“Heath told me I’d have no help when Hollie was due and I . . . well, I read everything I could about what can go wrong with a pregnancy and birth.”

“Why didn’t you leave such a man?” he asked, his frantic eyes on Mary.

Priscilla rounded on him with something like a primitive cry. “How dare you ask me that?” she whispered. “Do you think I didn’t want to . . .” She swallowed hard and turned back to his sister, regaining composure. “We have to focus on Mary now.”

“You’re right. I—I’m sorry,” he said.

She nodded but then became too absorbed in what was happening before her to notice Joseph beyond giving him brief instructions for the next hour and a half.

She had gotten Mary into a sitting position and was encouraging her to make an effort to push when a strong contraction seized all control of the moment. Mary arched her back, gave a brief scream, and the baby was born.

Priscilla caught the slippery, tiny body with surprise and wonder. “It’s a girl,” she exclaimed, hastily bundling the baby in the warmed blankets Joseph had prepared.

Mary smiled feebly. “A
maedel
? Joseph, where’s Jude?”

“Here,” a voice rang out as Jude and Dr. McCully, as well as a helicopter transport team, crowded into the room.

Priscilla met Joseph’s eyes and wanted to duck her head at the shining pride she saw there.
He’s proud—of me.
But she couldn’t forget his earlier words as they clouded her mind with sudden remorse.
Why didn’t I leave?

Joseph saw the moment that Priscilla’s eyes darkened with grief, and he cursed himself silently for what he’d asked earlier without thinking. Even the doctor’s assurance that all would be well for both
mamm
and babe only relieved his anxiety for the brief moments when he touched his sister’s hand and felt Jude’s tears fall on his neck.

Soon both Joseph and Priscilla stood on the periphery of the room as the support team bundled Mary onto a stretcher and put the
boppli
in a portable incubator. Then there was only the sound of the front door being closed and the
haus
stood in palpable quiet, as if breathing again after a long run.

Joseph sat down in a chair in the master bedroom only to rise quickly when Priscilla began to strip the bed in silence. He moved to help her, not knowing what to say until their eyes met across the spread of a quilt.

“You were alone?” he asked, barely able to get the words out at the thought.

“You should go and tell your
fater
about Mary. He will want to go back down the mountain, you know. And you should go too—to make sure everything is as well as the doctor thinks.” Priscilla grasped a top sheet and pulled it to her in a protective stance.

“My
fater
and the rest of the mountain already know, without a doubt, and I saw the life in my sister’s eyes because of your quick thinking. I’m concerned about you right now.”

“Well, don’t be. I’m fine.” She bustled past him, carrying bedding out to the back porch, where a large tub and winding press arm served as the washing machine.

He followed, watching until she’d piled the sheets inside the tub, then caught her hand.
“Jah,”
he whispered. “You are fine indeed, as fine a woman as I’ve ever met. I have told you much. Will you not share your secrets with me also?”

He saw her blue eyes well with tears, waver in indecision, but then she returned his grasp and he led her back into the
haus
to sit in the quiet of the living area on the comfortable couch. He stroked her hand with his fingers in a slow, soothing motion, waiting until she was ready to speak—willing to wait for all time, if necessary.

Priscilla drew a shaky breath. “I was nearly three months along before I told Heath about the pregnancy. He was furious, of course . . . not that I didn’t tell him right off, but because of the baby. He said I did it to hold him at a distance, to keep him away from me. But he also said that I wouldn’t be able to use the pregnancy as an excuse for him to stop controlling me, managing me, as he should.”

“So he was still—hitting you while you carried his babe?” Joseph knew a savage and distinctly un
-Amisch
desire to seek out this man and end Priscilla’s troubles once and for all. But he continued to stroke her hand and remembered that
Derr Herr
said “Vengeance is mine.”

“He hit me, but he was more careful about where, so marks wouldn’t show . . . And then, for the last months of the pregnancy, he was strangely calm. I thought that the baby’s coming might have changed him, but then, about two weeks before I was due, he locked me in a room. He told me that he’d let my father know that I’d gone to a special birthing facility, a luxury place, to have the baby—that it was his gift to me. He left books on pregnancy and delivery in the room, and when I realized he wasn’t going to let me out, I read them. Then, I think because I was so stressed, I started labor early. I begged him to help me, but he never came in . . . Not until I called out it was a girl and that I thought she might not be breathing. Then he unlocked the door. He said if I told anyone at the hospital that I’d never see the baby again, and I was so—so stupidly afraid that I believed him.” She choked on a breath and Joseph drew her within the circle of his arms.

He rocked her gently, trying to regulate his own breathing after hearing the incredible horror of her story. “And then you named her Hollie?” he asked in soft tones.

Priscilla nodded and sniffed against his chest. “It was Christmas Eve when I delivered her.”

Joseph rested his chin on top of her damp head. “Priscilla . . . will you marry me?”

Chapter Twenty-One

Priscilla struggled to draw back in his arms, wanting to see his face, wondering if he’d had a temporary lapse in mind or judgment. But when she looked into his eyes, she saw only level sincerity and calm respect.

“Why—why would you ask me that? Because you feel sorry for me?”

He shook his head and kissed her forehead. “Because you’ve found a place in my heart that only you can fill, but I know that you’ll need some time to accept that. So, I ask you to marry me . . . in name only for now. And, perhaps in time . . .” He shrugged. “You may begin to feel something for me in return.”

She lifted shaking fingers to her wilted prayer
kapp
. “But Joseph, I’m
Englisch
.”

He smiled, a rakish look that caught at her heart. “So, you look
Amisch
to me. Besides, your mother was
Amisch
. . . and this is a
gut
place for you and Hollie to be safe from that—Heath.”

I don’t know if I can ever be safe from him.
“Oh, Joseph, I don’t know. What will the bishop say?”

“Bishop Umble married Jude to my sister. I’ll tell him the truth. Priscilla, you deserve a chance to be nurtured, to heal . . . Let me give you a taste of that. Let Derr Herr give you peace and show you how to love yourself here on Ice Mountain.”

She looked up at him solemnly. “Yes, Joseph, I’ll marry you.”

 

 

“I don’t want to get married,” Bishop Umble intoned with mockery, and Joseph resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“
Jah
, I admit that I said something along those lines.” Joseph shifted on the wooden bench. He was tired and still had to take his
daed
and Priscilla down the mountain to see Jude and Mary and the new baby.

“Uh-huh . . . well, you see what good comes from being a woman’s prayer partner—unwilling bachelors turned to the solid life of family. I should partner more couples in prayer.”

Joseph waited, not rising to the bait.

Bishop Umble sighed. “It seems your family has a penchant for marrying
Englischers.
You know she’s going to have to ask to join the church, and that the community will have to be in agreement about her place before you can marry.”

Joseph looked down into the coffee mug the bishop’s wife had filled before she’d left the room. Although he’d told Priscilla that he’d tell the bishop the truth, he couldn’t keep himself from wanting to hurry things on a little. “Do you remember why you married Jude to my sister?”

“
Jah
, because your
fater
forced me out of bed and dragged me to do it. I remember there was an accusation about some dalliance in a blueberry patch.” The older man peered at him with suspicion. “Why?”

Joseph shrugged and found it wasn’t too hard to look uncomfortable. “Priscilla has no
fater
here to speak up for her, so I’ll do it on her behalf. I admit to a bit of a . . . dalliance in a lilac grove.”

“You’ve dishonored her and yourself?”

Ach, if you only knew about my dishonor . . . but that’s over. It wasn’t my fault . . . it wasn’t . . .
“A
gut fater
might say so,” he admitted roughly, dropping his gaze.

The bishop slapped his hands on the tabletop and got to his feet. “Well then, I’ll marry you now.”

“Uh . . . right now?”

“
Jah
, right now. There’s no sense waiting to put things to rights, though I tell you again that Priscilla will have to seek community afterwards. There’s service tomorrow.”

“I’m not even cleaned up.” Joseph indicated his mud-splotched clothes from the earlier rain.

“Better that your soul be clean first. Now,
kumme
. We will go to Jude and Mary’s
haus
.”

Joseph rose with reluctance, hoping that Priscilla had had enough time to bathe and dress after the difficult morning.

Priscilla lifted one leg and gently scrubbed it with the rose-scented soap that Mary had made
.Dear God, be with Mary and the baby. Bless them both with long life . . .
She swallowed and tried to concentrate on the water. The bath was heavenly after the tumult of the morning and she allowed herself a few moments to relax back in the brass tub, luxuriating in the warmth of the water that she had heated on the stove.

A sudden loud knocking on the front door sent her splashing though, despite the bathing screen. And she had to resist the urge to duck her head under the water when she heard Joseph’s deep voice.

“Uh, Bishop Umble—perhaps you might wait on the porch here a moment. Priscilla’s a bit—um—disheveled and I would tell her of your wish that we marry now.”

Marry! Now?
Priscilla hastily bound her hair in a knot on top of her head and submerged herself to a decent level as she recognized Joseph’s footfalls across the wooden floor.

“Now this is an interesting situation.” His voice was low and she caught a note of laughter in it that made her fume.

“Joseph King—I am in the bathtub,” she hissed, though she knew her situation needed no explanation.

His large shadow loomed from the other side of the screen and she froze.

“Do you need a towel, my sweet? Or would you rather I remove all doubt from the
gut
bishop’s mind that we should marry immediately by drying you myself?”

“Joseph!”

“All right, all right, little spitfire, I’ll leave you to dry and dress, but I must beg you to hurry as the bishop is impatient to redeem our souls through marriage.”

“What? What did you tell him?”

“That I dallied with a
maedel
in a lilac grove . . . that’s all,” he stated airily, and she didn’t know whether to catch her breath or hold it as she heard his footsteps recede.

She listened as the door opened and closed with a quick click and then she scrambled from the bath, thankful that she’d had the foresight to place towels down around the tub.
The bishop must think me a wanton Englisch woman.
Then she recalled her response to Joseph’s kisses with a sigh.
And maybe I am . . .

Joseph had to suppress a smile of pleasure as Priscilla finally flung open the front door and stood, barefooted but properly garbed and kapped
,
to let them enter. She wore a light blue blouse beneath her dress and apron and damp tendrils of red hair clung to the nape of her neck. She smelled of sweet roses when he passed by her, and then he did smile, unable to suppress a passing
narrisch
thought: the desire to be the soap that bathed her.

He cleared his throat to ward off such meanderings and looked to the bishop, who was paging through his Bible.

“Bishop Umble, don’t we need two witnesses?” Joseph asked.

“Hmm? Why,
jah
! I forgot, and now we’ll have to go back and . . .” The bishop paused as a knock sounded on the door. “Providence!” the old man exclaimed and opened the door to reveal his wife and Hollie.

Joseph watched Priscilla hold out her arms to Hollie, and the little girl went running.

“Excellent,” the bishop said. “We have our witnesses.”

“May a child be a witness?” Priscilla asked.

Joseph saw the bishop give her a keen look. “It is my thought that children witness much in this world, both
gut
and bad. To witness the marriage of her mother is no doubt a blessing which she will long remember and treasure.”

“Mommy—you’re getting married? To Joseph? Yay!” But then the child’s face took on a look of confusion. “But what about Daddy?”

Joseph couldn’t mistake the beseeching look that Priscilla gave him and he looked to Bishop Umble, who nodded and gestured to one of the bedroom doors. “Take all the time you need—Priscilla and Joseph.”

Joseph walked with heavy steps, his face grim.
However could I have forgotten the
kind
in all of this?
Then he recalled what Hollie had said about fairy tales, that her mother did not believe in them but that she did. He turned and faced Priscilla and Hollie and stood solemnly, staring down at the little girl. Priscilla started to speak, but he waved her silent with a gentle motion. Then he dropped to one knee in front of Hollie and bowed his head.

“Forgive me, Princess Hollie. You see, I asked the wrong girl about this wedding. I should have asked your permission first and I did not. I beg for your forgiveness and ask now instead . . . will both you and your
mamm
marry me?”

There was an infinitesimal pause and then he felt small fingers thread through his hair and come to rest on his head. “Arise, Mr. Knight. I give my permission. You can kiss my hand.”

Joseph felt tears prick the backs of his eyes as he got to his feet and took the small hand into his own. He bent to brush his lips carefully over the tiny knuckles. Then he saw another hand extended in his direction and glanced at Priscilla, who had tears in her own eyes.

“Jah,”
she whispered. “
Gut
Sir Knight, you may kiss my hand as well.”

It was an admission, Joseph realized as he caught her hand. An admission that some part of hope and fanciful notion still existed for her, and the kiss he placed on her hand meant more to him than any other they’d shared. Then he caught both mother and daughter together in a great hug, spinning them round until they were all laughing.

“Now,” Joseph suggested when he’d finally let them go. “Shall we have a wedding, my dears?”