Love Redeemed (25 page)

“Of course there's no going back. There's only the road in front of you. You were baptized and made new. Michael needs that same new start. As his friend, you should encourage him to focus on his church and not lose his faith.”

“You're worried about his faith?” The good in her mudder never ceased to amaze Phoebe. The light shone in her with an intensity that
made Phoebe feel all the more dingy with fear and uncertainty. “You want him to come home to be baptized?”

“To be with his own kind and to live out his life in the Plain faith? Of course I do, as does every member of this community.”

Hannah snorted again. Mudder turned in her seat. “Do you have something to say?”

No response came.

“I know you're hurting, Hannah, but you cannot heal if you don't first forgive.” Mudder's stern tone didn't allow for argument. “You only hurt yourself with the bitterness you hold in your heart.”

“Stop! Stop the buggy!”

Hannah's shriek hurt Phoebe's ears and startled the horse, who shot from a canter to a gallop. Phoebe wrapped the reins around her hands and pulled with all her might. The buggy swayed and veered toward the side of the road and then back to the middle. “Whoa, whoa!”

The horse slowed, but his high-pitched whinny registered his fear. Phoebe gripped the reins and pulled harder. “Stop! Whoa!”

The horse whinnied, but slowed until they resumed their more sedate pace. Phoebe breathed and waited for her heart to begin beating again. “What was that? You could've—”

“Hush.” Mudder twisted in the seat. “That will be enough, Hannah. You nearly caused an accident. At least think of the baby.”

“Phoebe didn't think of Lydia.”

Mudder faced forward, but not before Phoebe saw her face crumple. “And she pays every day for that mistake. I've forgiven her.” Her tone gave away none of the emotion Phoebe had seen in her face. She spoke the words, but her heart didn't beat in step with the sentiment. “So has your daed. It's time for you to do the same.”

“I want to get down.” A stubborn note of insistence rang in the words. “I want to walk to Irene's.”

“That sounds like a good idea.” Mudder touched Phoebe's arm. Her fingers were icy. “I think a walk will do your schweschder good. Stop and let her down. Hannah, I want you to think about what you did and what might have happened if Phoebe couldn't get the horse calmed down.”

“She should think about what she's done too.”

Phoebe knew exactly what her sister meant. “Do you think I haven't?”

“Not enough. I saw you talking to Richard Bontrager after the baptism. Another man so soon…”

“Richard? He talked to me.” Phoebe pulled to the side of the road and stopped. “He wanted to take me for a ride. I told him no. I've changed. I really have. I'm going to be good. I'm going to be good from now on.”

Hannah thrust Sarah at their mudder and hopped from the buggy, trudging in the direction of Irene and Ben's farm.

“Let her walk. It'll do her good.” Mudder settled back in the seat. “She needs time, that's all.”

“She's right. I'm trying so hard to be good, but it's not my nature. I feel like I'm just bad.”

“You don't understand, child.” Mudder held Sarah against her chest and leaned toward Phoebe, her face damp with sweat—or maybe tears. “You have to understand. You can never be good enough. No one can. We are saved through God's grace despite our sins. You ask to be forgiven and He will forgive you. It's not about being good.”

Phoebe let her hands sink into her lap, reins still wrapped around them. “You mean nothing I do will make a difference?”

“I didn't say that. You don't get into heaven by good works. I thought you knew that. You get into heaven because God decides to pour down His grace over you. You have to be willing to bow down and accept that grace and live your life trying to be worthy of it.”

For the first time in weeks, Phoebe felt herself relax. A suffocating burden rolled from her shoulders. She'd always known she couldn't be good enough. Now she didn't have to keep trying, knowing she would only fail.

“If we don't start moving, we'll miss the quilting altogether.” Mudder grimaced and rubbed her fingers across her chest. “I hope Irene has some stomach medicine. I can't seem to get rid of this indigestion, no matter what I do.”

“I think Irene has something for everything that ails a person.”

Kindness. Discernment. Patience. Forgiveness. The ability to forgive herself. Phoebe had seen all those things in Irene's face and her mudder's. How did these women get to that place? Phoebe wanted to go there herself.

Her arms curiously light, she snapped the reins and the buggy jolted forward. The view ahead cleared. She could see where she was going.

Chapter 23

P
hoebe pulled the buggy alongside half a dozen others in front of the Knepp house and tugged on the reins until they came to a halt near the corral. She glanced back at the dirt road where dust still whirled in the air. No Hannah in the distance. An uneasy feeling wiggled in her stomach. “You sure we shouldn't go back and pick her up?”

Mudder used one hand to steady herself as she hopped from the wagon, Sarah asleep on her shoulder. “Hannah's twelve and she knows the way. She chose to get out of the buggy and walk. It's a nice day. It's no farther than she walks to school. She'll be fine.”

How Mudder could be so matter-of-fact about having a daughter out on the road like that baffled Phoebe. She started to argue. Mudder held up a hand. “I made mistakes before. Mistakes that had terrible consequences. I won't make those mistakes again. Hannah has to learn to be respectful. She's hurting, but she's determined to be willful. That has to stop. Letting it continue will only compound my earlier mistakes.”

Mudder thought she had made mistakes? She felt responsible for Lydia's death. Phoebe tried to wrap her arms around such a silly notion. “You didn't make the mistakes. I did.” It felt right, a relief really, to say those words aloud. “I'm the one who made a bad choice.”

“I let you.”

“You couldn't have known.”

“Your daed didn't want you to go to the lake. He knew you were
getting carried away. I told him to trust in God and let you have your rumspringa. That you would do the right thing.”

“And then I didn't.”

“Nee, you didn't.”

“I'm so sorry.” Sorry. What an inadequate word. It couldn't begin to convey her feelings. “If I could do it over…”

“I'm the one who's sorry. I should've done better by you. I'm the mudder. I have experience. I was blinded by…by my…”

Mudder's face pinched and she turned away.

“Blinded by what?” Phoebe scampered after her. “By what?”

“By my love for you.” Mudder's voice choked.

Phoebe followed Mudder up the path and up the steps to the front door, still digesting her words. Her mudder was a good mudder. Fair. Firm. Loving. Kind. Now she questioned herself. Another thing for which Phoebe must take responsibility. Another cross to lay at Phoebe's feet.

They entered Irene and Ben's front door without knocking. The enticing aroma of baking brownies floated in the air, welcoming them. Women crowded the front room, their sewing goods scattered among them, an enormous frame set up in the middle of the room with the partially completed quilt hanging from it. Instead of the usual hum of chatter and busy stitching, however, everyone had stopped moving or talking. Irene stood, one hand on Aenti Bethel's shoulder. Irene smiled at Phoebe. “Welcome. We thought you might have changed your mind about coming.”

“What's going on?” Mudder shifted Sarah to her other hip. “Is everything all right?”

“It seems I'm having a baby today.” Bethel announced. She grabbed her crutches from the floor next to her chair and stood. “I should go home.”

“Now? You're having a baby now?” Phoebe grabbed the door and opened it.

Bethel winced. “Soon.” The word slipped between her gritted teeth and she started forward. “I'm new at this, but it seems soon.”

“Maybe you should go to the hospital.” Phoebe looked to her
mudder for a cue. Mudder had all her babies at home, but she didn't have Bethel's disability. “Is Ben close by, Irene?”

“Ben's at the Troyers. I can drive Bethel home.” Irene bustled forward. “Rebecca, run and tell Daniel to ride over to Marcy Cullen's. We'll want her midwife skills today at Elijah and Bethel's place. Katie, can you stay with my kinner?”

“Jah, I have to wait for my girl anyway. She's walking up the road. Phoebe can go home and get supper started.”

“If you don't mind, I'd like Phoebe to drive me.” Bethel's panting had eased. She slid forward on her crutches. “We'll pick up Hannah and take her too. It's a drive. We better get going.”

“Me?” Phoebe scurried after Bethel, who made good time despite the size of her belly and the use of the crutches. “You want me and Hannah?”

“Keep me company. We haven't had a chance to talk in forever and I want to give you the advantage of my experiences as a teacher. I hear you're taking over when Deborah marries.”

Phoebe remembered to shut her mouth as she caught the screen door before it slammed in her face. “Don't you think you'll be too busy to talk?”

“It takes a while to have a baby. You know that.” Bethel hobbled across the yard, her breathing ragged. “Let's go, girl. I'd rather not do this in the back of a buggy.”

Phoebe caught up with Bethel and helped her heave herself into the buggy. Breathless, she raced around to the other side and climbed in. “You don't want Irene to go with you?”

“She'll catch up. Let's go.”

Phoebe did as she was told. Life had this strange way of leaping out at her in the least expected moments. They turned back out onto the road just as Hannah came into view.

“Why did Hannah get out of the buggy?” Bethel began to pant again. “I imagine it wasn't for the exercise.”

“She chose to get down.”

“She isn't doing well with everything that's happened?”

“She isn't doing well with me.”

“You're not over it. How can you expect her to be over it?”

She and Bethel hadn't seen each other since the funeral and then, they'd barely spoken. “How do you know I'm not doing well?”

“I have eyes. Your dress hangs on you like clothes on a skeleton. Your skin's white like you haven't been going outside to enjoy the day.” Bethel rubbed both hands over her belly. “Fact is, you look like you've been sick for a good while. You might want to go a bit faster.”

“I'm fine. And you will not have this baby in the buggy!” Phoebe slapped the reins hard. “I can't deliver a baby.”

“Most of the time, babies come out just fine on their own.”

“Most of the time?” Phoebe started to sweat in spite of the cool air. She tried to remember what she'd learned when she helped the midwife deliver Sarah. Hot water. Scissors. Thread. Towels. Would Bethel's back and leg problems affect her ability to have this baby? “What about the rest of the time?”

Bethel laughed, a half laugh, half groan. “All the time, it's in God's hands. Stop for your sister.”

As much as she'd like to leave her stubborn little sister in the road, Phoebe knew enough not to argue with a woman about to give birth. She tugged on the reins and brought the buggy to a stop a few yards from where Hannah trudged, her head down.

“Get in.” Phoebe didn't have time to be gentle. “Hannah, get in!”

Her sister didn't look up. She kept plodding along.

“Hannah Christner, I'm about to have a baby and unless you want to help deliver it here in the road, I'd suggest you get in the buggy.” Bethel groaned—this time loud enough that the horse tossed his head and did a two-step. “Now.”

Her mouth open, eyes huge, Hannah scrambled into the buggy. “Why is Phoebe driving?”

“Because I asked her to.” Bethel breathed. “Could we not talk for a minute?”

They were silent for several minutes as Phoebe urged the horse into a trot. They were about twenty minutes from Bethel and Onkel Elijah's house, built on a swell of land a few miles from Phoebe and Hannah's home. Land that her daed had given his brother to start his new life with his fraa.

“Bethel?” Hannah's timid voice sounded completely different from the one she'd used to accuse Phoebe on the ride to the quilting frolic. “Why did you pick me up? I would rather go on to stay with Mudder.”

“Sometimes God puts situations in front of a person.” Bethel leaned back in the seat with a sigh. Her hands rubbed her belly in big circles. “I figure this is one. I'm having a baby and you're both going to help me.”

A knot the size of a boulder rose in Phoebe's throat. She hazarded a quick glance back. Hannah's face had turned white under the red from the exertion of her walk. She kept shaking her head. “I can't.”

“You both helped your mudder with little Sarah, didn't you?”

Hannah's head bobbed up and down. “That was different. That was before.”

“When it comes to babies being born, nothing has changed in all the time since God made this earth and gave Eve the pain of childbirth.”

It seemed Hannah didn't have an answer to that assertion. Neither did Phoebe. Women had been having children since the beginning of time. Some of those children grew up. Some didn't.

Phoebe snapped the reins hard, concentrating on keeping the buggy in the smooth ruts so Bethel didn't have to endure more pain from being tossed about in the buggy. No one spoke again, not even when they turned on the road that led to the small, neat house that Elijah had built with his own hands, anticipating this day.

As if reading Phoebe's thoughts, her onkel strode across the yard, a saddle over one shoulder. He looked up when they crossed through the gate and his free hand went to his forehead. He stared. Then he dropped the saddle and started toward them. His speed picked up until the trot became a run. She'd never seen him move so fast.