At Home in Pleasant Valley (44 page)

Leah shook her head. “I'm afraid. Something is wrong.”

“We don't know that.” Rachel scrambled to her feet and grabbed a cushion from the rocker, returning to ease it under Leah's head. “But we need to tell someone what's happening. I'll help you through the next one, and then I'll run across the field to your parents' house . . .”

Leah was shaking her head. “No one's there. They all went to the sale, too.” She grabbed Rachel's hand in an anguished grip. “What are we going to do?”

“We're going to be calm.” Although she felt anything but calm inside. “Where is the nearest phone shanty? I'll have to go and call for help.”

“My midwife's number is on the counter.”

“Ja, I'll take it, but I think this babe is coming so fast that we can't wait for a midwife. Paramedics can get here quicker.”

“I don't—” Another contraction cut off whatever Leah was going to say, and she clung to Rachel and breathed.

Murmuring nonsense, anything soothing that came into her mind, Rachel held her, stroking her while she watched the clock.

Leah lay back again, white and exhausted, and shook her head. “The phone is clear at the far side of my father's back pasture. It will take too long—Rachel, don't leave me. What if the baby came while you were gone?”

“I know, I know. But we need help—”

“Daniel will come soon. I know he will. The rain probably slowed him down. He'll go for help.”

“Yes, yes.” Anything to calm the panic in Leah's face.

Father, guide me, please, guide me. If I make the wrong decision, I could put Leah and the baby in danger. Hold them in Your hands, Father. Keep them safe.

“Pray for my baby,” Leah whispered.

“I am.”

“Out loud, so I can hear.”

Rachel nodded. She stroked Leah's belly gently. “Our Father, we come to You now. We reach out for Your hand. We're afraid, and we need to feel Your presence. Be with us now, and protect Leah and her baby. Keep them safe and well.”

And show me what to do,
she added silently.
Please, Father, show me what to do.

“You're going to be fine—” she began, and then stopped.

“A buggy!” Leah started up and then sank back. “Daniel—run and tell him.”

Rachel scrambled to her feet and raced for the door. She plunged outside, to be hit by a shower of water as the wind blew the rain toward the porch.

“Rachel!” A man slid down from the buggy. But it wasn't Daniel. It was Gideon.

•   •   •

“Your
mamm was worried. Asked me to check—” He stopped, registering the expression on Rachel's face. “What is it?”

Rachel grabbed his arm and tugged him to the door. “Leah's in labor.”

He drew back instinctively. But that was foolish. He had to do what he could. “I'll go for help.”

“Ja, you must. Her folks aren't home, so best to go to the nearest phone and call the paramedics.” Still she pulled him into the kitchen. “First help me with Leah.”

“Better I should go—”

Leah lay on the floor of the kitchen, her face contorting with pain. But he didn't see her—he saw Naomi, lying in the road . . .

Rachel rushed to Leah, grasping her hand. In another moment Leah sank back on a pillow, her face easing.

“Gideon is here. He'll call 911, but first he can help me get you onto the bed, so you'll be more comfortable.” She glanced back at him, looking surprised, maybe at the fact that he'd backed himself flat against the door. “Komm.”

That was a command, not a request. Forcing himself to focus, he strode to them and squatted down. “Show me what to do.”

“We'll wait until after the next contraction. Then just slide your arms under her and lift her.” She jerked a nod toward what he thought was a storage room next to the kitchen. “That's all ready for the delivery and the first day or two, so Leah won't have to go up the stairs.”

Leah inhaled, eyes widening, and all Rachel's attention went back to her. “Here it comes.”

He would have retreated, but Leah had grabbed his hand, squeezing it, and all he could do was hold on and send up wordless, incoherent prayers.

When the contraction finally eased, he felt as if he'd been put through a wringer.

“Now,” Rachel said.

He slid his arms around Leah, half-afraid to touch her, and cradled her against him as he rose.

“In here.” Rachel pushed the door open, moving swiftly to turn down the covers on the single bed that took up much of the small room. “This will be much better. You'll see.”

She continued to talk, soothing Leah, he supposed, until she was settled on the bed. Leah sank back against the piled pillows, sighing.

“That's better.”

“Ja.” Rachel stroked her forehead. “You rest while I get a lamp. We'll need more light, since your boppli decided to come on such a gray day.”

She caught Gideon's elbow and guided him back into the kitchen. He had the sense that she barely knew it was him. Anybody would do in this situation.

“I'll go right away.”

She didn't let go of him. “Be sure they understand that it's an emergency.” She'd lowered her voice with an anxious glance at the door.
“She fell, and the labor came on sudden and hard. Pains are only two minutes apart already. They must come at once.”

Something's wrong, Gideon.
Naomi's panicked voice sounded in his head.
Something's wrong. I'm going to lose the baby—I just know it. You have to get me to the hospital.

“I'll make sure they understand.” He clasped her hand in a quick, firm grip, but he couldn't find the right words. “Da Herr sei mit du,” he murmured, and headed for the door.
The Lord be with you.

He hit the steps at a run, crossed the yard, and threw himself into the buggy. Joss seemed to recognize the urgency, starting off instantly at a quick pace.

Concentrate. Think about what you must do, not about the past. Never about the past.

They reached the road and turned left, into the driving rain. Thank the gut Lord there weren't cars on the road, though if there had been, he might have flagged someone down, asked to use a cell phone.

Too much time explaining, probably. Get to the phone shanty, make the call. He knew just where it was, at the far end of Leah's parents' pasture, accessible by another narrow lane. After this, Daniel Glick would probably be putting one in considerably closer.

Unless he was mourning—

No. Don't think that, not now. Leah would be all right, her baby, too.

Rachel had been frightened. No one else would guess that, masked as it was behind the brisk command she'd taken of the situation. But he had known—had felt it in the grip of her hand, as if they were connected at a place deeper than words.

The rain drove in his face, stinging like ice. Joss plunged sturdily on.

Gideon narrowed his eyes. They'd passed the lane that led to the Beiler farmhouse. The one to the phone shanty would be coming up pretty quick.

With a blare of a horn, a car swept past him, sending up a sheet of water that nearly blinded him. He clenched his jaw to keep from saying something he shouldn't.

It had been raining that night, too. The road had been a black ribbon against the blacker fields, almost invisible in the downpour. Naomi
had huddled, crying, on the seat, ducked down under the blanket. She wouldn't have seen the car coming at them, known it was going to hit them, known they were going to die—

His hands tightened on the lines, and Joss slowed. There was the lane. Do what he had to do. Forget the time when he'd done nothing but live.

The buggy jolted along the narrow lane, hardly more than a track in the field. Joss halted automatically at the shed, and Gideon jumped down and raced for it. Grabbed the phone, punched in 911. The operator answered immediately.

He stammered out the words, remembering what Rachel had said.

“We're sending a unit at once. If you stay on the line until they arrive—”

“I can't. I'm at a phone down the road. I must get back to them.”

The words surprised him as he heard them come out of his mouth. He didn't want to go back.

But he would. Of course he would. Rachel and Leah and her baby needed him.

•   •   •

Once
Gideon had gone, Rachel felt more alone than she ever had, even in the dark days after Ezra's death. Alone—with Leah and her unborn child depending on her.

She took a deep breath, giving herself a shake. Foolish, so foolish she was being. They weren't alone. God was with them. Leah and the baby were in His hands, not just hers.

“Now, then.” She bent over Leah, trying to sound calm. “This baby is going to be fine, and you, too.”

Leah's head moved restlessly on the pillow. “Are you sure? What if . . .”

She couldn't let Leah's mind travel down the path of all the things that could go wrong. “Trust, Leah. Just trust.”

“I do, but—” Leah shook her head, managing a slight smile. “You're sure you know what to do?”

“Well, I did have three babies.” She stroked her friend's belly. “That
was a bit different from delivering someone else's, for sure, but at least I know what to expect.”

Again she felt the contraction almost as soon as Leah did. Again they rode it out together.

When the contraction receded, Leah sank back against the pillow, face white.

“Rest now, just rest while I get things ready.”

Thank the gut Lord Leah had planned on a home birth. Everything the midwife might need was ready at hand. Rachel moved quickly between the bed and the chest, busying her hands while trying to calm her mind. She'd told Leah she knew what to expect, but she didn't.

She stood still for a moment, a folded sheet in her hands, picturing herself at this point when Mary was born. Of course she'd had the midwife there and her own mother, too.

Gideon would bring help. She focused on that. He would.

And if the boppli arrived before the help did?
The Lord is my strength and stay.
Her heart spoke the words, and it seemed to fill with peace.
A very present help in time of trouble.

Leah gasped, and Rachel hurried to help her through the contraction. Somehow, the peace didn't leave. She could feel it steadying her hands, calming her voice. God's peace flowed through her on a tide of love to Leah and the boppli, and she knew God would give her whatever strength she needed.

I
t
seemed an eternity until Rachel heard the thud of boots on the back porch and knew that Gideon was back. The back door swung open.

“Rachel?” He called her name, his voice strained. “The paramedics are on their way.”

“Gut.” She smiled down at Leah, cradling her babe in her arms, and went to the door so she could see his face when she said the news. “They will be just in time to check out Leah's baby girl.”

“The babe . . . it's here already?”

“A beautiful little girl.” Joy filled her heart, bubbling through her until she wanted to laugh with the sheer happiness of it. “She and Leah are both fine, thank the gut Lord. Do you want to see them?”

“I'd best go down to the end of the lane. Tell the emergency crew where to turn in.” He swung around and bolted back out the door.

Was he uncomfortable about being with a woman who'd just given birth? Was this too vivid a reminder of the way his wife had died?

Rachel hadn't even thought of that when she'd pressed him into service. She'd needed someone, and he was there. Even if she had remembered, there would have been no other solution.

“Rachel? Is there any sign of Daniel yet?”

Leah's voice sounded stronger by the minute. She was eager to show off her daughter, obviously.

As for Rachel—well, she'd rather see the paramedics at this point. She thought the birth had gone well, and everything seemed as it should be, but she wasn't a midwife. Having three babies of her own didn't make her an expert on all the things that could go wrong.

She went to peer through the kitchen window at the lane, but saw no one except Gideon. She hurried back to Leah, carrying the towels she'd had warming next to the stove.

“Not yet, but I'm sure he'll be along soon. Let's wrap this around your little girl to be sure she's snug enough.” She tucked the soft, warm towel around the tiny bundle in Leah's arms.

“She's so perfect,” Leah crooned, touching one small pink hand. “I can't take my eyes off her.”

“I know.” She remembered those first moments of bonding—that sense of absolute wonderment that so perfect a creature could have come from her.

Leah's mouth crumpled suddenly.

“What is it? Are you in pain?” If something went wrong . . .

“No.” Leah wiped tears away with the back of her hand, laughing shakily. “I'm being silly. Just—I'm so glad you were here today. If you hadn't been—”

“But I was, so don't think that. And I'm glad, too.”

She wrapped her arms around Leah in a loving hug. They had gone through so much together, she and Leah. And now she'd been here to experience the wondrous gift of helping Leah give birth to her first child. As terrifying as it had been at times, she would never forget this as long as she lived.

“Did Gideon leave?” Leah brushed a strand of hair off her face.

Rachel smoothed the hair back and secured it with a hairpin. “He's watching for the paramedics.” Even as she said the words, she heard the sound of tires on the gravel. “Here they are. I'll go and let them in.”

In minutes the house seemed overly full of the emergency workers—three of them, but one a woman, to Leah's obvious relief. She checked out Leah while another looked over the baby and the third filled in forms.

Pushed out of the room where she'd been indispensable, Rachel had busied herself with making coffee. She could use a cup herself, and she didn't doubt that someone else would. She glanced up to see Gideon lingering on the threshold.

“Is everything all right? Leah and the baby?”

“They seem to be fine, as far as I can tell. The emergency workers are with them now. They'll know better. I—”

Without warning, her knees seemed to buckle. She sat down abruptly in the nearest chair.

Gideon was with her in two quick strides. “Was ist letz?” He knelt next to her.

“Nothing. I mean, I'm all right.” She pressed her hand against her cheek and blinked to keep the tears away. “I'm being silly, that's what. Anyone would think I had that baby.”

He reached toward her and then seemed to change his mind. Instead he filled a mug with coffee, added sugar, and brought it to her.

“Drink this.” He wrapped her hands around the warm mug. “You delivered the boppli. Seems to me you have a right to be a little shaky after that.”

“Ja. Shaky is right.” She sipped cautiously at the scalding brew, feeling its heat all the way to her stomach. “I was too busy to think about what could go wrong. Now that it's over—”

“Now that it's over, it would be ferhoodled to fret about things that didn't happen.”

“Or things that happened in the past?”

She studied his face, so dear to her now. It was a dangerous question, but somehow the events of the last hour had pushed her beyond her usual caution. Gideon could be angry with her if he wanted, but this once she would try to probe past the guilt he kept like armor around him.

He took a step back, his face tightening. “Some things you can't help but remember.”

“Remember, ja. But you didn't let the memories keep you from doing what had to be done.” That was important. She sensed it but didn't have the words to explain why.

He grasped the back of a chair, his big hands dwarfing the slat. “Leave it, Rachel.”

“I can't.” Her throat was tight, but she forced herself to go on. “I can't let you hide yourself away behind guilt that wasn't yours to begin with. You didn't choose to have an accident.”

“No.” His face twisted. “But that doesn't matter. At least today Leah and her baby lived. I'm glad of that, but if you imagine it evens things up, you're wrong.”

“Of course I don't think that.” She'd get up, but she didn't trust her legs to hold her. “There's nothing to even up, nothing to repay, don't you see that?”

He didn't. That was written in the tense lines of his face. And before she could find any other words, footsteps thudded on the back porch and Daniel burst into the room, his eyes wide with fear.

“Leah . . .”

“Leah is fine.” Strength surged through Rachel, and she went to him, clasping his hands in hers. “You have a beautiful daughter.”

The fear dissolved into incredible joy. “A little girl? You're sure they're all right?”

“Go and see for yourself.” She pushed him toward the door. “They're waiting for you.”

He paused for an instant on the threshold, and she doubted that he even saw the three Englischers in the room. Then he ran toward his wife and baby.

She was crying again. She mopped at her face with her hands. This was a day for tears as well as joy, it seemed.

She turned to say something of the kind to Gideon, but it was too late. He was gone.

•   •   •

Much
as she might want to, Rachel had no time to think about Gideon. Drawn by the emergency vehicle, Leah's parents hurried in with the children, who'd apparently gone home from the sale with them.

“Leah? The baby?” Mattie Beiler clutched Elizabeth's shoulders, keeping her from rushing into the room.

“All well.” Rachel's eyes filled again at the words. “The paramedics are still in there. Maybe best if only Leah's mamm goes in at the moment.”

“Ja, that's right.” Elias, Leah's father, caught young Jonah and put his hand on Matthew's shoulder. “We will wait a moment.”

Elizabeth came to Rachel as soon as her grossmutter disappeared, seeming to need the security of another woman. “The boppli is all right? You're sure?”

“I'm sure.” Rachel hugged her. “A little sister for you.”

“A girl?” Elizabeth's face lit, the anxiety vanishing from her eyes. “I'm glad. I mean, a boy would have been nice, too,” she added, always eager to do and say the right thing. “But I already have a little brother.”

“Becky is going to be jealous of you, I'm afraid. She would love to have another baby around to help with and to hold.”

Rachel's heart seemed to wince as she said the words. She would love that, too, but it was unlikely ever to happen now.

The paramedics came out, ready to leave after failing to convince Leah to go to the hospital. She would stay at home, she insisted, just as they had planned.

People started arriving, worried and eager to help. Some were satisfied with a brief explanation and headed off home to prepare food to bring. Others started for the barn to take over Daniel's chores, needing no explanation of what had to be done. One of Leah's brothers went to contact the midwife. It was her community at its best, but Rachel could have done with a little more quiet.

Probably Leah, in the room adjoining the kitchen, felt the same. When she'd planned to stay downstairs for a few days with the new boppli, maybe she hadn't anticipated the noise problem.

When the rush finally died down, Rachel tiptoed to the doorway to take a peek inside. Leah slept, the babe dozing in her arms. Daniel sat on the edge of the bed, one hand over hers, the other touching his new child.

Blinking back tears, Rachel beckoned to the children. They slipped out quietly. “We should let your mamm sleep now, ain't so?”

They nodded, maybe a little reluctant. Then Matthew clapped Jonah on the shoulder. “We'll go do our chores. No sense letting other folks do what we should do.”

The boys went out, and Elizabeth tugged at Rachel's sleeve. “About what you said before—about Becky, I mean.” Her small face was very serious. “Tell her that she can love my new baby sister, too. All right?”

“Ja. Ser gut.” Rachel hugged the child, touched by her thoughtfulness. “I think your grossmutter went upstairs to get some blankets and diapers for the boppli. Maybe you can help her.”

Elizabeth nodded and scurried off toward the steps, skipping a little in her happiness.

Everyone was happy, it seemed. Everyone but Gideon.

Rachel's heart ached so much that she put her hand on her chest. Gideon was a prisoner of his own guilt, and he wasn't the only person who hurt as a result.

She loved him. The feeling had crept up so gradually that she hadn't even noticed it until it was too late to stop it. Not like she'd loved Ezra—not more or less. Just different. This love wasn't the same, but it still could be full and complete. They could have been happy together.

Gideon had helped her in so many ways, even with things they hadn't spoken of. He'd helped her heal from her grief. He'd helped her gain the confidence that she could manage on her own. And now, with God's help, she'd do exactly that.

But they could have been happy.

Daniel came into the kitchen, a contented smile still lurking in his eyes. “I know you must be getting back to your own family, but Leah is awake and wants to see you before you go.”

“Gut. Then I can see that sweet babe again.”

She started into the room, and as she passed him, he touched her arm lightly.

“Denke, Rachel,” he whispered. “Denke.”

She nodded, heart full, and went to Leah.

Leah leaned back on pillows propped against the headboard, still cradling her sleeping daughter in her arms. Rachel sat down gingerly on the bed, careful not to jostle them.

“You know, you really can put her down in her bassinet.”

Leah's lips curved. “No, I can't. Not yet.” She traced her finger along the baby's soft cheek. “I'm too busy marveling at her.”

“I know.” Rachel said the words softly, content just to watch Leah with her babe.

Their friendship had lasted for her entire life, but it wasn't the same
as it had been. That was gut. With each new challenge met, with each grief they endured, they grew, and so did their bond.

She didn't have to say that to Leah. Some things went too deep for words.

“Daniel and I have been talking for months about the name for the boppli. Funny, but we could never decide on a girl's name.” Leah dropped a feather-light kiss on the baby's head. “Now that we have seen her, we know exactly what it should be.”

“And what is it?” A family name, most likely.

Leah smiled, but it was tinged with just a little sorrow. “I want you to meet Rachel Anna Glick. Named for the sister I lost, and for the friend who is closer than a sister.”

Tears filled Rachel's eyes again. For a moment she couldn't speak. Then she managed a whisper.

“Denke, Leah.” She touched her friend's hand. “Perhaps one day Anna will return.”

“I never stop praying for that. I never will.”

“I, too,” she whispered, her heart full.

•   •   •

Gideon
tightened the screw and stood back to study his handiwork. It was odd. This idea had been in his mind for a long time. Today, he felt driven to turn it into reality.

The model windmill was an exact copy of the real thing, but it stood only five feet high. Just the right size, he'd think, to go into someone's garden.

He picked up the next crosspiece. Maybe he'd been figuring that working on something new would keep his mind off Rachel. If so, he'd been wrong. She drifted through his thoughts, distracting him, making him feel things he'd put away long ago.

“What do you have there, Gideon? Something new to sell?”

The voice startled him. He turned to see Bishop Mose pausing in the doorway as if waiting for an invitation to enter.

“Komm in.” He put down his tools. “What brings you out our way today?”

“Ach, if I'd use my head, I wouldn't have to put so many miles on
my buggy.” The bishop rounded the worktable and stood surveying the miniature windmill. “I had to speak to Aaron about trading his date for the worship schedule. So I thought I'd step out here to see what you are working on.”

“Something new. You're right about that.” An object that was just “for pretty” as the people said. Would the bishop question that? “As for selling—well, I haven't got that far yet.”