Sarah's Gift (6 page)

“Looks like you’ll raise plenty of money today,” she said.

“
We’ll
raise plenty,” Leah said, correcting her with a smile. “You are one of us now, remember?”

“Ja, I remember.” It felt good, being accepted here. The warmth, chatter, and laughter of the kitchen seemed to envelop Sarah with a sense of familiarity. This day was such an example of what it meant to be Amish.

“It’s gut, working together this way.” Leah seemed to echo her thoughts. “Some folks would just write a check to help, but I like actually working. I like teaching the children that this is the right thing to do.”

Sarah nodded. She’d already seen Leah’s stepchildren hard at work, carrying trays and coffeepots around the large room.

“You are setting them a gut example. And they are finding out that it is fun to work together.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Leah gave her a quick smile. “This is how we get to know each other so well, ain’t so?”

Sarah nodded. What Leah said went to the heart of what it meant to be Amish. This time together, working with sisters, was part of what wove the tough, durable fabric of the Amish community.

Leah was quiet for a few minutes, concentrating on the next batch of pancakes. Once they were all going, she turned back to Sarah.

“I hear that you might want to go to the clinic with me one day.”

Sarah couldn’t help smiling. The Amish might not have telephones, but news traveled fast—the Amish telegraph, some folks called it.

“Ja, I would like to. Aunt Emma says that is the best place to arrange for newborn testing.”

Leah nodded. “You must meet Dr. Brandenmyer. He is so dedicated to helping babies. The research his clinic does will lead to solving the genetic diseases, I pray.”

“I pray that, as well.” Sarah’s throat tightened at the thought of no more babies doomed to a short, difficult life. “What is the work that you do for the clinic?”

“Collecting family tree information, mostly,” Leah said. “They can trace the incidence of genetic problems through the families.”

Sarah nodded, impressed. “Our people trust you. They wouldn’t give up that information easily to a stranger coming to the door.”

“That is my part,” Leah said. “And I understand that you believe in testing every newborn, even when the families have no history of disease.”

That news had spread fast, as well. People would have varying reactions to it, Sarah feared.

“I think testing everyone is for the best. If everyone’s child is tested automatically, then no one can object. Early detection can save babies. That’s what is important. And it’s gut for the parents, also, to know from the start what they are facing.”

“I’m so glad to hear you say that.” Her gaze warm, Leah clasped Sarah’s hand, and Sarah had the sense that she’d gained a valuable ally. “That has not always been the case in the past.”

Sarah closed her lips. There was nothing she could say. She wasn’t going to criticize Aunt Emma to anyone, even if she agreed.

“I would like to go to the clinic with you,” she said. “But are you sure Dr. Brandenmyer will welcome a midwife to the area?”

“I’m sure,” Leah said. “He’s a believer in midwives. Especially one like you, who is so dedicated. Will this coming Wednesday be all right for you? I can arrange for a driver.”

“Ja, that will be wonderful gut.” The trip was settled so easily, and she would walk into the clinic with a friend. That meant a great deal.

“Ach, here is someone who also loves Dr. Brandenmyer.” Leah turned from the stove to embrace a woman who had just come in. “Sarah, this is my sister-in-law, Myra. And her little girl, Anna Grace.”

Myra was a sweet-faced young woman with shy dark eyes. The child on her hip reached for Leah, smiling, sure of her welcome. She was adorable, with chubby pink cheeks and wispy blond hair. She was also a Down syndrome child.

The thought went through Sarah’s mind in an instant. She smiled at Myra. “I am glad to meet you. And this little one, also.” She touched one chubby hand and was rewarded with a chuckle.

“We are so fortunate to have another midwife in Pleasant Valley.” Myra’s greeting was warm. “I hope to have a midwife the next time I have a baby.” She bounced little Anna on her hip. “I went to the clinic for my first two babies.”

Sarah nodded. It wasn’t unusual for an Amish mother to choose a doctor for her first birth and then, if all went well, to switch to a midwife for other births.

And if that next baby was Down syndrome, as well, he or she would be loved and cherished just as Anna Grace obviously was. It would be God’s will.

“You two have been cooking over the stove long enough.” Barbara, Leah’s other sister-in-law, bustled up to them, her cheeks bright red from the heat of the kitchen. “You go and take over the serving table, and I’ll set someone else to turning pancakes for a while.”

“I don’t mind staying at the stove,” Sarah said.

Leah took her arm. “Komm, now. Barbara is in charge today, so we will follow orders. We’ll get a chance at every job before the day is over.”

Filling plates for people as they came to the table was definitely cooler than working over the hot stove. Almost too cool, in fact, as a blast of cold air filtered through the room each time the door opened.

Leah shivered a little. “That inch of snow on the ground will make the hunters happy. If the old-timers are right, we’re in for a snowy winter.”

“Midwives aren’t so happy with snowy winters, no matter how much hunters like them,” Sarah said. “I’ve never missed catching a baby, but it has been nip and tuck sometimes.”

A fresh group came to the table, cutting off their conversation. Sarah filled plates quickly with generous helpings. The breakfast was all-you-can-eat, and most people took that seriously.

“Can I have some extra scrambled eggs?”

Sarah looked up to find Benjamin Miller standing in front of her. “Of course.” She piled an extra scoop on his plate. “You can komm back for more, you know.”

“He will.” Nathan clapped him on the shoulder. “You can be sure of that.”

“Gut. We don’t want to have any leftovers.” She managed to keep a smile on her face as she realized that Aaron was standing behind his brothers. She’d just been thinking that she owed him an apology. God was giving her the opportunity.

In a moment Aaron was in front of her. Her tongue seemed stuck to the roof of her mouth. She filled the plate for him silently, trying to find a way to say the words she needed to speak.

As she held out the plate, she met his eyes and saw the same struggle in his face that she felt.

“I’m sorry—”

“I should—”

They both spoke at once; both stopped at once.

Aaron gestured toward her. She swallowed.

“Aaron, I am sorry. I had no right to be angry with you for what you said.”

He took the plate, his fingers touching hers. “And I had no right to say it. I am sorry. I was wrong.”

“Can we forget it?” She tried to smile, knowing others were watching. She should take her hand away, but his fingers had become wrapped around hers.

“Ja, that is best.” Aaron seemed to become aware that people were watching them. He took the plate, gave her a meaningless smile, and went quickly to join his brothers.

CHAPTER SIX

O
n
the off Sunday when worship wasn’t held, the Amish of Pleasant Valley went visiting. Aunt Emma’s sons didn’t live close enough to come often, but since most Amish were related if you went back far enough, she didn’t lack for invitations.

Today, joining the other women in Anna Fisher’s kitchen as they prepared the meal, Sarah thought how familiar this all was. Sunday visits were an integral part of their lives. In the outside world folks might use Sunday for football games or shopping, but not here. On Sunday you were either in church or visiting family or having family come to visit.

Myra and Joseph Beiler were here, as well. Apparently they lived next door. Samuel helped Joseph in his machinery shop when he wasn’t training horses, and Joseph and Anna were brother and sister, as were Samuel and Myra—another example of the connections that marked Amish life.

In this case, that had perils as well as strengths. Sarah glanced toward the living room, where Myra’s daughters played with their cousin. Since there’d been a case of Down syndrome in the family, there was all the more reason for Anna to be tested when she became pregnant.

Sarah sliced a loaf of oatmeal bread, stacking it in a napkin-lined basket. She glanced at Anna, bending over the stove to check her pot roast. With some women, testing might be a difficult subject to bring up, but Anna struck Sarah as being mature and clear-minded. She’d probably already thought of it.

With two mothers and two midwives in the room, the talk naturally centered on babies. This pattern, too, was familiar. The men in the living room talking about work or weather, the women in the kitchen talking about pregnancy and babies, something they wouldn’t discuss in front of the men.

Myra added hot biscuits to the bread basket, giving Sarah a shy smile.

“I’m glad we met at the hunters’ breakfast. I’ve been wanting to meet you. You are getting acquainted with everyone, ain’t so?”

Sarah smiled. “It will take a while, I guess. I’m still figuring out how everyone is related.”

“You must ask your aunt about that. She knows everyone’s family tree, from delivering all those babies. I saw that you were chatting with Aaron Miller at the breakfast. You must be getting to know him.”

“Not really.” The words came out too sharply, and she regretted that instantly. What was it about Aaron that brought out her most disagreeable qualities?

Myra’s cheeks flushed. “I didn’t mean—”

“No, no, I am the one who’s sorry. Aaron and his brothers are building the new birthing rooms for us, that’s all. That’s what we were talking about.” Well, in a way it was.

“And you don’t want folks pairing you up already,” Myra said, smiling. “You have to forgive us. I’m so happy with Joseph that I’d like to have everyone feel this way. And you must be lonely since your husband died.”

Maybe it was as well to get this out in the open. Then word would get around, and folks would stop wondering.

“A little lonely, I guess, but my work keeps me busy. I don’t really think I’ll marry again. What man would put up with the crazy schedule a midwife keeps?”

Myra glanced toward Emma. “Your uncle didn’t seem to mind.”

“Onkel Ezra was one of a kind.” Her voice softened as she remembered Aunt Emma’s husband. “He didn’t seem to mind any inconvenience, but I don’t think there are many men like that around. Anyway, I guess I am promised to my work.”

“We are the winners, in that case,” Anna said, coming up behind them in time to hear the words. “Myra, would you mind mashing the potatoes? They always come out so light when you do them.”

Myra smiled, shaking her head at the compliment, and crossed the kitchen.

“I thought maybe Myra was asking too many questions,” Anna said under the clatter of dishes as Aunt Emma got serving bowls out.

“Not at all. Well, I know everyone is curious when someone new comes to the community.”

“Or someone old comes back.” Anna shrugged her shoulders. “I was three years in the Englisch world before I came home. I remember how it was, feeling as if everyone was watching and wondering. You’re going through that now, ain’t so?”

“It does make me wonder if I’ve put my kapp on upside down sometimes,” she admitted. That explained the maturity and assertiveness she’d sensed in Anna. She’d earned them, perhaps the hard way, being out among the Englisch.

“One thing I learned out there.” Anna seemed to be sensing her thoughts. “To ask when I want something.” She lowered her voice with a glance at Emma. “I’m almost certain sure now that I am expecting, and if so, I want you to be the one to deliver my baby.”

Sarah didn’t know what to say, and she should have come up with an answer for that by now. “I hope it works out that way,” she said carefully. “Aunt Emma and I haven’t yet decided exactly how we’ll divide up the cases.”

Anna nodded. “So long as you know. When it was thought Emma was going to retire . . . well, I wasn’t sure what I would do.” She hesitated. “I don’t know if Emma has told this to you, or even if she knew it, but rumor was that Dr. Mitchell wanted the law to shut down Emma’s midwife practice.”

“I don’t—No, I didn’t realize that.” Her mind spun crazily. Had Aunt Emma known? Was that maybe behind the fact that she hadn’t had the birthing rooms finished? “What on earth did the man have against Aunt Emma?”

“Maybe not Emma in particular,” Anna said. “Seems from the time he came to Pleasant Valley he’s been intent on having things his way, and he just plain doesn’t believe in midwives. Well, anyway, I thought you should know.” Her smile flashed. “Hope that doesn’t make me a blabbermaul.”

She turned before Sarah could respond, going to the doorway and getting the attention of the men in the living room. “We are dishing up now. Will you two get the little ones in their seats?”

After a few moments of confusion as the women carried food to the table, the little girls knocked over their block towers, and the men gathered the kinder up, they were all seated around the long kitchen table. The room was warm with the heat from the stove, and the bowls and platters steamed, perfuming the air. Samuel, at the head of the table, bowed his head for the silent blessing, and the others followed his example.

Please, Father.
Sarah found her prayer straying from blessing the food to her other concern.
Help me see if I should do something about this doctor. And show me how to manage my relationship with Aunt Emma. I don’t want her to feel that I am taking her patients.

As if they could see with their eyes closed, everyone at the table murmured a silent “Amen” at the same time that Samuel opened his eyes. Platters heavy with food began to flow around the table.

“So, Emma,” Joseph said, “when are you going to let us set up a telephone shanty for you? Seems to me that if a machinery shop can have one, a midwife should. It would make Samuel feel easier when he and Anna start having babies, that’s certain sure.”

Samuel grinned. “You might be right at that. Especially if a little one decides to come in the middle of a stormy night.”

Aunt Emma looked up from buttering a roll for Anna’s little girl. “I’ve never seen much need for that. Folks always seem to get me, one way or another.”

“Did your practice in Ohio have a telephone nearby, Sarah?” Myra handed her the bowl of mashed potatoes as she asked.

Sarah disliked being in a position where she seemed to disagree with Aunt Emma, but she couldn’t say anything but the truth. “Ja, we had a telephone shanty with an answering machine so people could leave a message. And one of our neighbors fixed up a buzzer that would go off in the bedroom if a call came in the night.”

“We could fix that up, easy as can be.” Joseph glanced at his brother-in-law. “Right, Samuel?”

“I’d say so. It wouldn’t take much.” Samuel looked as if he were seeing it in his mind. “It wouldn’t take more’n an hour or two of work to do that once the phone was in place.”

“Easiest if we put the shanty as close to the bedroom as possible,” Joseph added, obviously eager to do the project and sounding as if it had already been decided.

Sarah looked at her aunt, and her heart seemed to clench. Emma didn’t look angry or upset. That would have been a natural reaction from her when she opposed something. Instead Emma looked . . . withdrawn. Distant. As if she were sitting back and watching things go on without her.

That wasn’t what Sarah wanted. She was here to help Aunt Emma, not replace her. Certainly not make her feel unnecessary.

“That is most kind of you both,” she said. “But I think it will be something for Aunt Emma and the bishop to discuss.”

Looking a little abashed, Joseph nodded. Anna began talking about the Christmas program the children at the school were preparing. The others joined in.

But maybe it was too late. Maybe the damage had been done. Because Aunt Emma still stared down at her plate as if she weren’t really there at all.

The
cold air nipped at Sarah’s cheeks as she and Aunt Emma drove home from Anna and Samuel’s. It was not even four o’clock yet, but the dark line of clouds, straight as a line drawn by a ruler on the horizon, made it seem later.

Aunt Emma shivered and pulled the lap robe closer. “Just the first of December, and it feels like the middle of winter.”

“It does.” Sarah smiled, nodding toward the two figures walking down the lane, heads close together as they talked. “Those two don’t look cold, though.”

Aunt Emma peered through her glasses. “Benjamin Miller, that is. Walking out with Louise Buckholtz, I see. Ach, it seems only yesterday that I delivered the two of them—not a month apart, they were, and their mamms such gut friends.”

Sarah didn’t dare breathe. Aunt Emma had brought up the subject of Benjamin’s birth herself. Would she go on to talk about his mamm’s dying?

Her aunt shook her head, shivering again despite the warm blanket. “I never could forget that, no matter how much time went by. The only mother who died in all the years I’ve been a midwife.”

“I am sure you did everything you could do.” It was the only response Sarah could think to make.

“If only he had done as I said . . .” Emma let that trail off, lapsing in abstracted silence.

“Who?” Sarah kept her voice soft, nearly a whisper, but her heart was thudding. She held her breath. “If who had done what you said?”

As if roused by the question, Aunt Emma jerked upright. “Nothing. Never mind.” Her lips clamped into a straight, stubborn line.

Sarah knew the signs. Her aunt would say no more, and she was left wondering.

Their buggy passed the young couple, and she raised her hand in greeting. Benjamin nodded, his cheeks red either with the cold or maybe with embarrassment that she’d seen him with a girl.

She turned the horse in when they reached the lane, and they rolled up to the house. She shot a glance at Aunt Emma. She’d hoped to have a quiet talk about this business of the telephone once they got home, but the tired lines in her aunt’s face changed her mind.

“You go on in and warm up,” she said. “I’ll take care of Dolly.”

Her aunt didn’t argue, which was in itself cause for concern. “Ja.” She slid down slowly. “I think I will take a little nap.”

That startled Sarah. She couldn’t remember a time when Aunt Emma had lain down willingly in the middle of the day, even after being up most of the night delivering a baby.

“Are you feeling all right?” Sarah leaned down from the high seat, keeping a firm hold on the lines. Restive, Dolly tossed her head, obviously wanting to move on toward her warm barn.

“Fine, fine.” Aunt Emma gave an irritated shake to her head. “I chust want a little rest, that’s all.” She walked off toward the porch, and Sarah stayed where she was until she’d seen her aunt get safely inside.

Dolly moved toward the barn at a quick clip the instant she loosened the lines. Once there, Sarah moved automatically through the routine of removing the harness, rubbing the horse down, turning her into her stall, seeing to the feed and water. All the while her mind revolved around Aunt Emma’s out of character behavior.

Was this all to do with that business about the telephone? She’d had every intention of bringing the subject up with Aunt Emma, but she wouldn’t have done it that way, in front of other people. Did her aunt feel as if they’d joined together against her? She wouldn’t have Emma feel that for the world.

And what about Dr. Mitchell? Had Aunt Emma been aware of his antagonism or not?

The house was still when she went back inside. Aunt Emma must have done as she’d said. Sarah stood at the foot of the stairs, listening, hearing nothing more than a soft snore.

Well, Aunt Emma knew best about her own needs. Maybe some soup for supper would be gut. Sarah stepped into the pantry, looking along the well-stocked shelves for soup. She took down a quart of chicken noodle soup and carried it to the kitchen. As she set it on the counter, she glanced through the window. And smiled, distracted from her thoughts.

Hand in hand, Benjamin and Louise walked across the frosty grass toward the pond. Louise swung away from him, tilting her head, and then skipped back. The sight of their laughing faces warmed Sarah’s heart.

She could remember when she and Levi were like that—skipping through their time together, laughing, teasing. Carefree. So sure of their love, so convinced they knew what the future held.

For once, such thoughts didn’t seem to be leading her into a spiral of doubt and blame. Today, for a reason she didn’t quite understand, she could look at Benjamin and Louise’s puppy love and simply smile at that innocent happiness.

Well, why not? It would be a pity to let what happened later cloud the memories of her own happy days. Like Benjamin and his girl, she and Levi hadn’t had a thought then for anything other than the delightful new feelings they had for each other.

She glanced out the window again, still smiling, and froze, her hand tightening on the edge of the sink. The girl had slid out onto the glossy surface of the frozen pond. She stood there, laughing, beckoning at Benjamin to join her.