At Home in Pleasant Valley (41 page)

Joseph stroked Dolly's head. “What do we do now, Gideon?”

“Now we wait.” He settled himself as comfortably as he could. “First births can take a while, and there's nothing to do for Dolly but let nature take its course.”

•   •   •

An
hour later, he'd begun to wonder if nature was going to be enough. He lit a lantern to chase away the gathering shadows so that he could get a better look at Dolly.

The little goat seemed to be struggling, and this wasn't progressing nearly as fast as the other births he'd seen working with Aaron's herd.

Rachel came in again while he was trying to urge Dolly to her feet. She studied his face, seeming to look past the facade he kept up for the boy.

She took Joseph by the shoulders. “I want you to go into the house now.”

“But Mammi, Dolly needs me.” His hand lingered on the little goat's head.

She hesitated a moment, and then knelt beside him. “You may come back out again. But I want you to say good night to Mary. Then go to the shed and get some of the empty feed bags that are on the shelf. We might need them when the kids come.”

Joseph's small face lit with the prospect of something helpful to do. “I'll do it, Mammi. Schnell.” He scrambled to his feet and raced for the door.

Rachel swung toward him as soon as Joseph was gone. “Something is wrong.”

“I'm not sure.” He gave up the effort and let the little doe rest on her side again. “I thought standing might help things along, but she doesn't seem to have the strength for it.”

“Is there anything we can do?”

He spread his hands, hating feeling helpless. “Once she starts pushing, we may be able to help. I've done that often enough with Aaron's herd. Until then—I don't think there's anything.”

“If we were to lose her, Joseph would take it so hard.” Her lips twisted, as if she fought not to cry. “I can't bear for him to lose something else he loves.”

“It's not come to that.” Gideon reached out his hand and she took it, fingers twining tightly. “Goats are like people, I guess. Sometimes the first babe is a long time in coming.” His thoughts flickered to his wife, his babe, and he yanked them away.

“Yes, of course.” She took a breath, straightening. “I shouldn't be so foolish. But—do you think I'm right in letting him stay out here?”

She'd never asked his advice on anything to do with her children before. He'd best have the right answer.

“What would he do if you sent him inside?”

“Wait. Worry. Fret.” She gave a slight shrug. “You're right. That would be worse than letting him feel he's helping.”

“That's how you'd feel, ain't so?”

She nodded, bending to stroke the little doe's side. “Be strong, Dolly,” she murmured.

“Here I am.” Joseph burst in, burdened with a flashlight and an armload of feed bags. “Did anything happen?”

“Not yet.” Rachel brushed his hair from his eyes. “It'll be a little while yet. You do as Gideon says. I'll be back out after I get Mary to bed.”

Joseph nodded solemnly and came to sit next to Gideon. Once Rachel had gone, the barn seemed too quiet, too lonely. Was he right in encouraging the boy to stay? Joseph had certainly seen animals give birth before. He wouldn't be frightened by what was normal.

“Gideon?” Joseph rested his head against Gideon's sleeve. “Dolly isn't going to die, is she?”

“I hope not.”

“But it shouldn't take this long, should it?”

“It does seem like a long time.” He wouldn't lie to the boy. “But things may start to happen very fast. Kidding goes that way sometimes.”

Joseph's face moved against his sleeve. “I love her,” he whispered. “I loved Daadi lots, lots more, but I love her, too. I don't want her to die like Daadi did.”

“I know.” Gideon put his arm around the boy. He was skinny, like Ezra had been at that age, with sharp little bones that seemed fragile under Gideon's touch. A wave of protectiveness swept through him, so strong it scared him.

What was he doing, feeling this powerful a caring for another man's son? He'd set out to help Ezra's wife and children, thinking only of the debt he owed to Ezra.

He'd never imagined they'd become so dear to him. Too dear. How would he live with himself if he failed them, too?

•   •   •

Rachel
paused before she reached the barn on her return, lifting her face toward the sky. Pinpoints of light clustered thick as clover in the meadow. The nearly full moon seemed fat with promise. Was it true, then, the old idea that the full moon brought on birth?

Please, Father. I don't know what Your will is for this little creature, but I ask Your guidance for helping Joseph to deal with whatever happens tonight. Thank You, that You've provided Gideon to aid us.

A few more steps brought her to the door. Again she hesitated, this time caught by what she could see inside. The glow of the lantern echoed the glow of the moon, illuminating the stall. Gideon sat, his back against the rough boards, and Joseph leaned against him, his head snuggled into Gideon's broad chest. The man's arm curved protectively around his shoulders.

Her throat constricted. Gideon was doing what Ezra would have in this situation. Did he even realize how wonderful gut he was with the children?

Gideon's attention seemed to sharpen on something out of her line of vision—no doubt Dolly. He moved, Joseph moving with him. As if it had been a signal, she scurried inside.

“Was ist letz? What's the matter?”

“Time to help her push.” Gideon squatted next to the goat. “Will you?”

She nodded, kneeling in the straw next to him. “Show me what to do.”

“I want to do something.” Joseph's voice wobbled a little. “Let me.”

“You will hold her head. Your mammi will put her hands here.” He took her hands in his and positioned them against the goat's warm, smooth side. “When you feel her push, only then, you press along with her. I'll try to ease the kid out.”

She nodded, breathing a silent, wordless prayer.

Gideon gave Joseph an encouraging smile. “We'll do our best for her. The rest is in the Lord's hands.”

Even as he spoke, the goat's muscles contracted under her hands. Rachel sucked in a breath as if she were in labor as well and began to push.

“That's it, gut. The kid is in the right position. It won't be long now.” Gideon had rolled up his sleeves, and he leaned over the animal. “Talk to her, Joseph. Tell her to push.”

“Push, Dolly, push.” Some of the fear eased from Joseph's face as he concentrated on the goat. “You can do it. I know you can.”

“Come on, Dolly. Come on.” Rachel pressed with her palms, feeling the progress of the contraction. “It's working.”

“Ja.” Gideon's glance at Dolly held concern. “Ease off, now. Wait for the next one.”

Did he fear the little goat didn't have the strength in her to finish the job?

Rachel longed to ask, but didn't want Joseph to hear the answer. Before she could think of how to phrase it, the next contraction hit, and she was too busy to say anything.

“It's coming,” Gideon exclaimed, and in a moment the tiny kid, front hooves first, came sliding out onto the feed bag, squirming and messy.

“She did it.” Joseph hugged Dolly's head. “You did it, Dolly.”

Gideon lifted the baby away a foot or so. “Ja, but I think she has one more to push out. You come and dry this one off, Joseph, while your mammi and I help her.”

The worry in his voice was plain, but fortunately Joseph was too enraptured by the brand-new kid to hear it. He dried the baby off, crooning to it.

Dolly stiffened under her hands, and in what seemed little more than a moment, the second kid arrived. The doe lay back, eyes closing, side heaving with strain.

“Do you think—” Rachel began, studying Gideon's expression.

Grasping her arm, he turned her toward Joseph and the kids. “You help him with the babies. I'll tend to Dolly.”

Gideon looked so grave that she feared Joseph could hardly fail to pick up on it, but he didn't seem to. So Rachel helped him dry the kids, marveling with him at them. It wasn't hard to keep his attention fixed on the babies instead of the mother.

“We should name them.” Joseph stifled a yawn. “What do you think, Mammi?”

“I think you've been up far too long. Say good night to them, now, and get into bed.” She stilled his protest with a gentle touch. “They need to rest, too, and so does Dolly. Go now. I'll come and check on you when I come in.”

He hugged her and sidled over to Gideon. “Denke, Gideon.” He hesitated a moment, then flung his arms around Gideon's neck in a throttling hug. “Denke.”

Gideon patted him. “Sleep well.”

Rachel handed him a flashlight. Standing in the barn doorway, she watched the light bob across the lawn, staying there until Joseph was safely into the house. Then she turned back to Gideon.

“Is she going to make it?”

“I don't know.” He moved one of the kids to Dolly's head, but she closed her eyes and ignored it. “She's letting them nurse all right, but she should be cleaning them off and taking a bit of notice of them by now.”

Rachel knelt next to Dolly's head. “Poor little thing. She's exhausted. Isn't there anything we can do?”

“Just wait. Pray.”

“That I've been doing already.”

Gideon moved fresh straw around mother and babies. He was limping, she realized as he straightened.

“You've been here all day. You should go home and get some rest yourself already.”

“I'll stay.” He sat down, leaning against the wall again. “You might need me.”

“You've already done so much. I don't know how to thank you.”

“You don't, that's all. Joseph is a fine bu, and you should be happy with him. He did a wonderful-gut job tonight.”

“As did you. You would have been a gut father.”

The moment the words were out of her mouth, she remembered, and she wished them back. But it was too late. “I'm sorry. I—”

He touched her arm. “It's all right. I hope I would have.”

There seemed nothing to say to that. She just hoped he could sense her sympathy.

He drew his knees up, wrapping his arms around them. “When I think about that night, it's most often the boppli that I think of. He should have had his chance at life.”

Her breath seemed strangled in her throat. Ezra had said that Gideon never spoke of it, not even to him.

“He lives in Heaven,” she whispered.

“Ja.” He stared at the goats, quiet now, but she didn't think he was seeing them. “It was raining that night. So hard that I could barely see to keep the buggy on the road.” His hands tightened to fists against his legs. “We should have stayed at home and waited for the midwife, but Naomi wouldn't hear of it. She was so sure something was wrong, so sure that I had to take her to the hospital. If I'd insisted, maybe—”

He stopped, his voice choking.

Rachel's throat was tight with unshed tears. She knew the rest of the story. The truck, speeding in the driving rain, hitting the buggy, smashing it to pieces. Naomi and the baby dead, Gideon so badly injured that most had thought he'd never recover.

She put her hand tentatively on his shoulder. “Don't, Gideon. It wasn't your fault. You only did what Naomi wanted.”

He turned, grabbing her hand in a fierce grip. “I knew it was a bad idea. I should have followed my instincts.”

“Anyone in that situation would have done the same.”

“Would they?” His eyes were dark with pain. “I don't know that. I just know that they died, and I survived.”

And then Ezra had died, and he had survived again. The pain in Gideon's soul went so deep—what could Rachel possibly say that would be a balm for that?

Straw rustled. Gideon seemed to choke back a sob as he let her go and turned to the goats. One of the babies was nuzzling at Dolly's head, pushing her muzzle with an almost angry persistence.

“Ach, let her be.” She reached toward the kid, but Gideon intercepted her, grasping her hand.

“Wait.”

She held her breath, watching. Waiting. The kid bumped Dolly's muzzle again. The little doe opened her eyes. Wearily, slowly, she moved her head. Looked at her baby. And began to lick him.

“They're bonding,” she breathed.

“Ja.” Gideon moved the other kid up close, and Dolly licked her, too, seeming to gain strength even as they watched. “I think they're going to be all right.”

He looked at Rachel then, and she realized that she wasn't the only one blinking back tears. Gideon's hand clasped hers again, warm and gentle. Emotion flooded through her.

She cared for him, more than she'd dreamed possible. He meant so much to her.

But the wound he'd revealed to her tonight—perhaps that would never heal. And if it didn't, how would he ever be able to care again?

Y
ou
look half-asleep today,” her mother scolded gently the moment she walked in Rachel's kitchen door the next day. “Were the kinder up sick last night and you all by yourself here?”

Rachel hugged her. “No, nothing like that. Joseph's goat kidded, and we feared for a time she might not make it. But it ended well, with twin kids to show for a long night.”

“You never should have let Joseph know that pet of his was in danger. The poor boy must have been worried out of his mind.”

Mamm hung her bonnet on the peg and set a container of what looked like whoopie pies on the table.

“I don't think he realized how bad she was,” Rachel assured her.

Mamm's eyebrows lifted in a question. “You said ‘we.' I thought you meant you and Joseph.”

“Gideon Zook was here.” She tucked her packet of pins and her grossmutter's silver thimble into her bag for the quilting. “Thank the Lord he was. He knew just what to do.”

The questioning look lingered in her mother's eyes. “He's a gut man, he is.”

“Ja.” Rachel was afraid to say anything more, afraid of betraying feelings that she didn't want to examine too closely in herself. “It's kind of you to watch the little ones while Becky and I go to the quilting.”

Her mother seemed to accept the change in subject. “Ach, you know it's a pleasure.”

“You'll probably be chasing them away from the goats all day.”

“Well, and I want to see these little twins, too, so that will be chust fine. Is that where they are now?”

“Joseph and Mary are. Becky is supposed to be getting ready, but it's taking her a long while.” She went to the hallway and peered up the stairwell, but there was no sign of her daughter. “Becky, come along now. It's time we were leaving.”

No response, but she heard a drawer close in the girls' bedroom. Exasperated, she started up the stairs. “Becky, do you hear me?”

She reached the bedroom door to find Becky sitting on the bed, one shoe in her hand, the other on the floor. She had obviously been changing, but she'd come to a standstill.

“Becky, komm. I can't be late.”

Becky didn't look up. “Maybe I should stay home today. I could help Grossmammi with the little ones.”

That was so out of character for Becky, who always wanted to be on the go, that Rachel could only stand and stare at her for a moment. What was going through the child's mind?

“I'm sure your grossmutter can manage without you. I thought you'd been looking forward to going. Maybe you can put some stitches in the quilt for Leah's new baby.”

Becky stared down at the log cabin design that covered her bed, picking at it with her fingers. “I don't want to go, Mammi. Can't I stay home?”

“You can't—”

She caught herself, stopped, and went to sit down on the bed next to her daughter. Something was wrong, and she wouldn't find out what by giving orders. She schooled herself to patience and tried not to think about being late.

“Komm, tell me what is going on. You always like to go to Daniel and Leah's.”

Becky hunched her shoulders, not looking at her. “I just don't feel like it today.”

“Is it because you might be expected to sew? You don't have to, you know. I just thought you might want to.”

Becky didn't respond, but her lower lip jutted out.

Rachel caught her daughter's chin and turned her face so that she could see the expression. Pouting, definitely pouting. Becky's stubborn streak was making itself known.

“Rebecca, I want an answer now.”

The pout became more pronounced. “I don't want to play with Elizabeth.”

Rachel blinked. “Not play with Elizabeth? Why ever not? Did the two of you have a spat?”

Becky shook her head, the mulish look intensifying.

“What then?”

For an instant Becky clung to her silence, pressing her lips together. Then she shrugged. “I don't want to be her friend. She told on me.”

Rachel's mind produced nothing but a blank slate. Then she realized what the child was talking about. So much had happened since Becky's misadventure in the barn that it had slid to the back of her mind.

“Let me get this straight. You're angry with Elizabeth because she ran for help when you were stuck up in the barn.”

Becky flushed, as if she knew how ferhoodled that sounded but wouldn't admit it. “Ja. She told. Friends shouldn't tell on you.”

“Becky, you needed help. You couldn't get down by yourself. If Elizabeth hadn't gone for help when she did, you might have fallen.”

Rachel stared at her recalcitrant child with dismay. This had been preying on Becky's mind, and she hadn't known it.

Father, I should have known. Forgive me, and please give me wisdom now. I must have answers for my children, and I can't seem to find them on my own.

She put her arm around Becky. Her daughter stiffened, not giving in to the embrace.

“Sometimes it is right to tell. Sometimes that is what a true friend does.” She sucked in a breath, praying that wisdom came with it. “What if Elizabeth had done what you wanted, and you'd fallen? She would have had to live with that for the rest of her life.”

Becky did react to that—a tiny, almost undetectable wince.

“You are holding on to a grudge. You are not forgiving her, even though you know in your heart that she did the right thing.”

The rigid little figure shook suddenly. “I can't help it! I know I shouldn't feel this way, Mammi. I don't want to. Why do I?”

Rachel hugged her, longing to make it better even while she knew
there wasn't an easy solution. Every problem with raising children seemed to come back, in the end, to the teaching of faith.

“Forgiving can be hard. Maybe the hardest thing of all. That's why it's so important, and why we have to keep learning that lesson over and over again. Jesus forgives us, and He expects us to forgive others.”

“I want to.” Becky turned her face against Rachel's sleeve, wetting it with her tears, her voice muffled. “How can I?”

Rachel stroked her hair, knowing that she had the answer but hating to reveal so much of her own failure. But maybe that was part of the lesson God had to teach her.

“You know, for a long time after your daadi died, I had trouble forgiving.” Her throat tightened, not wanting to let the words out. But she had to speak them. “I knew it wasn't Gideon's fault that he lived when Daadi died, but I was angry, and I blamed him for it.”

Becky didn't speak, but Rachel knew she was listening with all her heart.

“It was wrong, that not forgiving, and it hurt me even more than it hurt Gideon. I had to find a way to forgive and let go of the hurt.”

“How, Mammi? How did you do it?” Becky tilted her face back, looking up into Rachel's eyes, her whole body seeming to yearn for an answer.

“I talked to Bishop Mose. And you know what he told me? He said that I had to act as if I'd forgiven, no matter what I was feeling. He said I should think of what I would do if I had forgiven, and do that. He said the feelings would follow. And he was right.”

Becky's forehead knotted as she struggled to understand.

Rachel stroked the wrinkles gently with her finger. She had to concentrate on teaching forgiveness now, and leave the difficult lesson of when it was right to tell on a friend for another day.

“What would you do if you really had forgiven Elizabeth for telling on you?”

“I would go to the quilting and play with her.” That answer was obvious.

“Then that is what you must do.”

Becky hesitated for a long moment. Then she gave a nod, slid off the bed, and fished for her shoe.

Have I said the right things, Father? More important, have I shown her forgiveness by my actions?

Forgiving others wasn't easy. Gideon's painful confession, never absent from her thoughts, demanded her attention. Gideon had to master an even more difficult task. He had to learn to forgive himself.

•   •   •

The
living room at Leah's seemed about to burst from the sheer volume of conversation as the women gathered around the quilting frames. Leah's mamm was there, of course, and one of her aunts. Two of her sisters-in-law, also—Barbara, plump and cheerful, had her six-month-old on a blanket at her feet, while Myra divided her attention between the quilting frame and the boppli who slept in a cradle near her chair.

Leah had placed herself and Rachel at the second quilting frame with her other sister-in-law, Esther, newly returned from her wedding trip, and one of their running-around friends from school, Naomi Miller.

Was Leah thinking about the person who wasn't there as she handed round spools of white thread? Rachel knew how much Leah grieved over her baby sister, Anna, lost to the English world. How happy it would make her if Anna walked in the door right now, to take her proper place around the quilting frame. But it wouldn't happen, not today.

Rachel thought of Johnny. Maybe never.

She was not nearly as accomplished a quilter as some of the others were, so maybe she'd best focus on her work.

Esther glanced toward the other frame. “They are going to have theirs done long before we do, that's sure.”

“The fastest quilters are all on one quilt.” Leah sent a teasing look at her mamm's frame. “Maybe we should make them send one over to us.”

“Or tie one of Barbara's hands behind her back,” Naomi said.

“Ach, I have one hand occupied with the boppli as it is.” Barbara chuckled, her good nature unimpaired by the teasing. “Wait until you all have babes to deal with.”

Since both she and Naomi had children, that comment was obviously aimed at Leah and Esther. Leah ignored it, her hand swooping
smoothly over the surface of the quilt, while Esther's rosy cheeks grew even pinker. Had Esther come back from her wedding trip pregnant? If so, she didn't seem inclined to announce it with her mother-in-law sitting at the other frame.

The chatter proceeded as quickly, as the tiny, almost invisible stitches traced their pattern across the quilt. No one would admit it, but each one wanted her stitches to be as perfect as possible. Not a matter of pride, Rachel hoped. Probably the others felt, as she did, that this baby quilt was a precious gift for the child Leah had never expected to have.

Rachel caught Leah's gaze across the frame, the delicate pattern stretched between them. Leah smiled, her eyes glowing with a kind of inward light, and Rachel's heart lifted. It wouldn't be long until Leah held that babe in her arms instead of beneath her heart.

By the time Rachel rose to follow Leah into the kitchen to set out the midmorning snack, the other group, for all their talking, had predictably made more progress than they had.

“They're showing us up,” she murmured to Leah as they reached the kitchen.

“Let them.” Leah glanced back fondly at the women around the frame. “It will give Barbara something wonderful gut to brag about.”

Anything that kept Barbara focused on her own business instead of everyone else's was just fine. They both knew that, though they'd try not to say it. Leah exhibited endless patience with her tactless sister-in-law—far more than Rachel would be able to manage, she feared.

Leah lifted the coffeepot from the stove. “I'm so glad to see Becky and Elizabeth playing happily together again.”

Rachel's fingers tightened, crumbling a piece of cinnamon-walnut streusel cake. “Leah, I am so sorry. I didn't even realize that Becky was holding a foolish grudge until today. I should have known. I should have seen.”

“How could you if she didn't want you to?” Leah was calmly reassuring. “Now, don't start blaming yourself for that. Think of all the things we kept from our mamms when we were their age.”

“I suppose so, but still.” She couldn't dismiss her sense of guilt that
easily. “Sometimes I think that Ezra was much better with the children than I am. I don't remember having these kinds of problems when he was with us.”

Leah set the coffeepot on a hot pad and snitched a corner of the coffee cake Rachel had broken, popping it in her mouth. “Of course not. They were smaller then, and their problems were smaller. The bigger they get, the bigger the problems. My mamm always says that, and I'm beginning to think she's right about a lot of things.”

“Maybe when we're as old as our mothers, we'll be as wise.”

“You're already a wise mother.” Leah patted her hand. “Never think that you're not. You're just not perfect yet, is all.”

“That's certain sure.” Rachel smiled, feeling some of the burden slip away just from sharing it. It was always that way with her and Leah. She hoped their girls would be as fortunate in their friendship. “Will I tell the others to come in now?”

At Leah's nod, Rachel went to the doorway to announce that the food was ready. The quilters flowed into the kitchen on a current of talk and laughter.

Rachel found herself next to Naomi as she took a slice of rhubarb coffee cake.

“How are the children doing?” she asked in an undertone. Two of Naomi's three children had the Crigler-Najjar syndrome that affected too many of the Amish, and it was always possible that Naomi didn't want to talk about it today.

“Doing well, denke.” Naomi's smile blossomed. “We are wonderful lucky to have the clinic where your brother works. They are saving lives, I know, and one day perhaps they will find a cure.”

Rachel's heart warmed to hear Johnny spoken of so naturally. Before she could respond to Naomi, Barbara said her name.

“Rachel, I hear you and Isaac are on the outs these days.” Barbara's smile was as cheerful as if she were talking about the weather. “He can be a stubborn one, can't he?”

Several women sent sidelong glances toward Barbara and then looked studiously at their plates.