by Beth Wiseman
Lydia’s stomach continued to settle even more. Babies had a keen sense about people, and Mattie was clearly happy with Margaret. And since this would be the last time she’d see the woman, she wanted to talk to her about heaven.
“Margaret, do you remember when I asked if you wanted to talk to a member of the clergy? Would you like for me to see if I can arrange that?”
“Nee. Gott has forsaken me.” She rubbed noses with Mattie, much the same way Samuel’s mother had always done. Mattie giggled and cooed.
“Gott doesn’t forsake us. He’s always with us.” Lydia wasn’t sure if this was worth the effort, but she thought she heard a voice in her head. Bring her to Me.
Lydia wasn’t qualified to lead Margaret to God. Her people weren’t known to minister to the Englisch—although Margaret seemed to be a mixture of Englisch and Amish. Besides, Lydia had misread signs from God before, so she might be misreading them now.
“Margaret, you were baptized into the Amish faith, right?”
The old woman kissed Mattie on the cheek. Her expression shone with happiness, so much so that she almost didn’t look like the same person. Lydia thought about the nursery at Margaret’s house and how bittersweet this day was.
“Ya, I was baptized.” Margaret chuckled. “You know that. We were baptized together.”
Lydia reminded herself that Margaret thought she was Delila, so she needed to be careful with her questions. She also tried to sort out what was fact and what was only in Margaret’s imagination.
Neither Samuel’s parents nor Sarah Mae had mentioned anything about a baby, so if Margaret did have a child, no one in the community knew about it. Lydia sighed. Was there a child? Yesterday, she’d been sure Rebecca was real, but now she wondered again if Margaret had just always longed for a child. Maybe she’d never had a baby except in her mind. She also recalled Dr. Finley saying that Margaret told her she’d been thrown out of the Amish “organization,” but she knew that wasn’t true. Their community wouldn’t oust a woman with Margaret’s mental issues.
She’d just have to accept the fact that she might never know the whole truth.
“If you were baptized, then you were free to stay in the community as a practicing member.” Lydia honestly wasn’t sure if that last part was true, so she silently asked God to forgive her if she’d lied unintentionally. “Did someone tell you otherwise?”
Lydia couldn’t believe how much Mattie was cooing and giggling, which kept Margaret focused on the baby.
“Nee. Only Gott told me I wasn’t welcome anymore.”
Lydia knew medical professionals would help Margaret with her mental issues, but would they lead her back to God? “Gott never pushes us away. He wants all His kinner to know and love Him.”
For the first time since they’d arrived, Margaret’s expression turned sour, and she stilled Mattie in her lap. A shot of adrenaline shot through Lydia’s veins as she became fearful Margaret might toss Mattie onto the hard floor—or do something worse.
“I love Gott very much.” She paused as she locked eyes with Lydia. “But He doesn’t love me anymore. I was bad, and I’ll never get to heaven.”
This was becoming much too complicated for Lydia. “I don’t think that’s true. But I do know Gott loves you and wants to be in your life.”
Margaret smiled as she began bouncing Mattie in her lap again. “That would be very nice.” She turned to Lydia. “Delila, when you come back again, will you please read to me from the Bible, the way you did when we were young? When I had trouble understanding the words.”
“Uh . . .” Lydia sighed, not sure how to tell Margaret she wouldn’t be coming back.
“Maybe if you read to me, I can learn to know Gott even better. I want Him to love me. I want to go to heaven, Delila.” Margaret’s voice had an edge to it, but she was still holding and playing with Mattie. “You can show me how to get there, ya?”
If Lydia denied this request, she wondered how she’d ever live with herself.
“Okay,” she said softly, now sure this wouldn’t be her last time with Margaret.
Chapter 21
When Samuel walked into the break room, Joseph was already there, slumped in his chair with a full meal in front of him. Samuel was losing patience with his friend. Ever since he’d gone to forgive Beverly for lying to him, his attitude and mood had worsened.
“Looks gut.” Samuel nodded to Joseph’s bowl as he took a seat at the table, then unpacked his own food—a turkey sandwich, chips, and an apple. Lydia had also included a generous helping of peach cobbler. Samuel would gladly give the dessert to Joseph if it would cheer him up.
“Ya, Mamm is still making all mei favorites.” Joseph slowly dipped his spoon into a simmering beef stew. “Too bad she didn’t know this is what Beverly made for me when I was at her haus for supper.”
Samuel popped open his bag of chips. “Lydia has been with Beverly the past two days. Wednesday, they went to a Sister’s Day, and yesterday, they ate dinner together and then did some shopping in the afternoon. I think she likes having a friend with a boppli close to Mattie’s age.”
“I miss us all hanging out together.” Joseph swirled his spoon in the stew.
“Then do something about it.” Samuel tossed a chip at him.
“Hey.” Joseph scowled. “I can’t be with someone who lies.”
Samuel missed a lot of things. He missed spending time with Joseph and Beverly as a couple, and he missed Joseph’s sense of humor, which had perished the day he broke it off with Beverly.
“Well, it’s a gut thing you’re perfect, someone who never makes a mistake, a non-sinner.” Samuel took a bite of his sandwich as he raised an eyebrow.
Joseph grunted. “Ya, it’s hard being me.” If his voice hadn’t been laced with a heavy dose of annoyance, the man might have resembled his old self.
Samuel decided to change the subject. “Lydia is taking Mattie to see Margaret where she’ll stay until she passes.” He bit into the apple, then said, “I’m not sure if she should be taking a baby to a place like that, but Lydia says she can’t not go. She said Gott must want her to guide Margaret home.” He paused, unable to deny he was starting to believe his wife had a calling when it came to Margaret. “Although, I’m not sure how Lydia is going to read the Bible to the old woman and tend to Mattie at the same time. She’s crawling everywhere now, so she’s not so content to stay in someone’s lap.”
“I loved the way little Susan always looked at me. She had this cute little grin . . .” Joseph groaned even louder this time. “I can’t even get her dochder off mei mind.”
They sat in silence as Samuel finished his meal. Then he decided to try a new tactic. “Joseph, the two of you weren’t even seeing each other very long. You’ll get over Beverly.”
“I’ll never get over her.”
Samuel placed both his palms on the table and leaned forward. “Then get past this and get back together with her.” He pushed back his chair, packed up everything but the cobbler, and stood. “She loves you. You love her.” Samuel rolled his eyes and grinned. “Although, I don’t know why she chose you.” He slid the container of cobbler across the table.
“Ha, ha.” Joseph grinned a little. Maybe that was the push he needed. Samuel hoped so—or he would have to find somewhere else to eat.
* * *
Lydia lifted Mattie out of the car seat and then grabbed the diaper bag. She thanked the driver and asked him to return in thirty minutes, then made her way inside the facility, where she inquired about Margaret. The receptionist led her down a narrow hallway to a nurses’ station, and then an Englisch nurse, who introduced herself as Daisy and looked almost as old as Margaret, led her to a room with a handwritten sign on the door. Margaret Keim.
“You’re the only person listed as approved to visit Margaret. You must be her only relative, but all she’s talked about since she arrived yesterday is how much she’s looking forward to her twin sister and daughter visiting her. But I have to say”—
frowning, she looked at Mattie, then back at Lydia—“you sure don’t look like her twin, and this can’t possibly be her daughter.”
“Nee, but she thinks we are. We’re here because she said seeing her baby daughter is her dying wish, and I wanted to somehow give her that. She also wants me to read the Bible to her. She thinks Gott doesn’t love her, so she won’t get to heaven.”
Daisy made the sign of the cross. “Well, God bless you.” She pushed the door open and stepped aside so Lydia and Mattie could enter the small room. “Margaret, you have visitors.” She looked at Lydia. “There’s a button on the wall if you have any problems,” she said in a whisper. Lydia wanted to ask what kind of problems, but she nodded.
Margaret was lying in the bed, but her eyes widened when she saw Lydia and Mattie. “I was afraid you wouldn’t know where to find me.” She smiled. “But here you are.”
“And I brought mei Bible so I can read to you.” Lydia sat down in the chair by the bed. The room seemed like a large closet with only the hospital bed, a bedside table, a small dresser, and a door that presumably led to a bathroom. A window overlooked a courtyard, but black metal bars crisscrossed the panes and obstructed the view. It also smelled like a hospital.
The bedrails on both sides of the bed were raised, but she was still hesitant about letting Margaret hold Mattie. Mattie could crawl over one of them if Margaret didn’t have a good hold on her. Still, they seemed to have taken to each other, and Lydia didn’t know how else she could read to Margaret.
“Do you, um, want to hold Mattie? I mean, Rebecca?” Lydia cringed at her fumble.
“I want to snuggle with her more than anything in the world, but I’m feeling rather weak today. I’m afraid she might tumble over one of these rails and onto the floor. I’d never forgive myself.” Margaret’s arms stayed folded across her abdomen.
It was the sanest thing Lydia had heard Margaret say, and even though she was relieved, she still didn’t know how she’d hold Mattie and read at the same time.
“Do you remember when we crossed the river in that canoe?” Margaret chuckled. “It was way above Williams Dam, but Mamm whipped us both so hard mei bottom almost bled.” She laughed again, which was quickly followed by a deep, grumbling cough. “I could hear you crying in the next room, knowing you were next.”
Lydia stared at her, unsure what to say, so she just nodded and tried to smile. Then she fished around in the diaper bag for a bottle for Mattie before taking out her Bible. She tried to get Mattie comfortable tucked into her left arm with the bottle and hold the Bible with her right hand. She didn’t know how she’d turn the pages, but she had only thirty minutes, and she wanted to keep her promise.
“Delila, I’m so glad you’re here. And danki for bringing Rebecca to see me.” She pressed her lips together as her eyebrows drew inward. “I don’t think I’m going to be alive much longer, but it gives me comfort to know you’ll take care of mei dochder.”
Lydia readjusted Mattie in her lap and set the Bible on the small table. “Why don’t you think you’ll be here much longer?” It was true, but Lydia wondered how she knew that. Does a person feel their body shutting down? Lydia suddenly felt a strong sense of urgency. If she was going to help Margaret know God, she needed to get busy. She didn’t want to let Margaret down—or God.
Margaret sighed. “I just know. I don’t know how I know.”
Lydia reached for the Bible. “You asked me to read to you from the Bible. I want you to feel like you know God and know He loves you. He’ll welcome you into heaven, and I don’t want you to have any doubts about that.”
Margaret’s eyes widened. “Delila, I know I’ll go to heaven. Mamm and Daed are waiting for me. But I don’t know if your daed will be there, Rebecca.”
“I’m confused. I thought you were concerned about not going to heaven.” Lydia wondered if her work here was done. She was also curious about the man Margaret referred to as Rebecca’s father. “Why won’t Rebecca’s father go to heaven?”
“Because he’s dead. Ben is dead.”
Lydia awkwardly cleared her throat. “Oh,” she said as she began to nervously tap her foot against the tile floor. She stopped herself and sighed. Her purpose here wasn’t clear anymore. “How did he die?” Lydia wasn’t sure she wanted to know, but the last time Margaret mentioned Ben, she said he left her after Delila took the baby.
“How did who die?” A shadow of alarm touched Margaret’s face.
Lydia shifted her weight. Mattie was almost out of formula, and Lydia would be out of time soon. “Ben. You said Ben died.”
Margaret sighed. “He’s only dead in mei heart.”
Lydia was still processing Margaret’s comments when she spoke again.
“Delila, do you remember that time we crossed the river in that canoe?” Margaret smiled. “We were above Williams Dam, but . . .”
Lydia smiled and nodded as she listened to the story again. Mattie sat up and let out a healthy burp just as Margaret stopped talking. The older woman burst out laughing. “That’s mei Rebecca,” she said as her face glowed with a familiar warmth Lydia understood. Motherhood.
* * *
Samuel listened in awe—and confusion—as his wife told him about her visit with Margaret. They’d eaten supper early with Mattie, deciding to catch up on their day after they’d showered and retreated to their bedroom for the night.
“I don’t know what Gott is calling me to do.” Lydia fluffed her pillows behind her. “I thought it was to minister to Margaret, but now I really don’t know.”
“Maybe it’s just to make her happy during this last part of her life.” Samuel had never wanted to make love to Lydia more than he did right now. Her compassion, combined with the way she was with Mattie and how beautiful she was, made him wish for more than the good-night kisses they’d been sharing.
“Maybe so. I remember Mary telling me that she, Levi, and Natalie felt called to be with Adeline up until she died. But they had a relationship with her. They were all friends. I barely know Margaret.” Sighing, she turned on her side to face him. “How does a person end up like that, with no one? Not one single person in the world will miss her when she’s gone.” She paused for a while. “Although I’ll be sad when she dies. She glowed when she told stories about her and her schweschder. And I was thinking today, if Delila is deceased, the hospital staff would have found an obituary in the newspaper, ya?”
“Probably, if she died in this area. I think death records can be found other ways too.” Samuel yawned, but he wanted to listen for as long as Lydia wanted to talk. He could tell the whole situation with Margaret was weighing on her heart.
“Everyone has always been afraid of Margaret.” She found Samuel’s eyes and held his gaze. “We were too.”
“People are scared of what they don’t know and understand. But the community tried to help her, and she wouldn’t let them. I don’t know how you can help someone who doesn’t want to be helped. Are you going back to visit her?” Samuel stifled another yawn. He wasn’t uninterested, just tired.
“Ya. If I don’t show up, I’m afraid it will break her heart. And next time I go, she might think she isn’t going to heaven again. Either way, it seems cruel not to go back.” There was another long pause, and Lydia hadn’t made any attempt to extinguish the lantern on her side of the bed. “What happens to a person like her when she dies? I mean, the doctor called her indigent, which means she has no money. Will she be buried here in our community cemetery even though she hasn’t been to a worship service in decades and she doesn’t seem to be Amish anymore? She still speaks the Deutsch, but she doesn’t wear a prayer covering or anything. I’m just wondering. Will there be a funeral of any type? What if no one besides me goes?”
“I’ll go with you.” Samuel reached out his arm, and she extinguished the lantern and curled into what had become her space. He kissed her on the forehead.
“Would she be buried in an Amish coffin? Or would they send her body somewhere?” Lydia’s
voice cracked a little.
“I don’t know the answers, but you could ask someone who works at the place she’s living. Or the bishop.” Making sure someone had a proper burial seemed important, but Samuel didn’t have money for that.
He yawned even more, and when Lydia closed her eyes, he did too. But before he slept, he prayed for his family, and he prayed for Margaret Keim.
* * *
Lydia and Mattie visited Margaret on Monday, then skipped Tuesday and Wednesday. She’d explained to Margaret that she couldn’t come every day, although she wasn’t sure the woman understood. Not only was hiring a driver expensive, but Lydia had other responsibilities. Samuel’s parents insisted they were fine, but she still stopped for a brief visit on Tuesday. And because she’d missed wash day on Monday, she’d had to spend time playing catch-up on the laundry as well as on other household chores.
When she walked into Margaret’s room Thursday morning, a momentary look of discomfort crossed the older woman’s face. Black circles sagged from beneath her dark eyes, even more than usual, enhanced by her pale face. As Margaret stared at her from beneath craggy eyebrows, Lydia wondered if she knew who she and Mattie were.
Today she had Mattie in a baby carrier she could place on the floor. Margaret hadn’t wanted Lydia to read to her on Monday, and she’d said she was too weak to hold Mattie. She’d only wanted to tell more stories about when she and Delila were growing up. Lydia had just smiled and nodded again. Her attempts to talk to Margaret about God had failed. Margaret told her she had a wonderful relationship with God, but she didn’t want to talk about Him. Maybe Samuel had been right when he said God just wanted Margaret to have someone who cared for her up until the end.
“Wie bischt?” Margaret said barely above a whisper.
Lydia’s chest tightened. She couldn’t believe how much Margaret had gone downhill in three days. She recalled Dr. Finley saying she didn’t have long, but Lydia hadn’t expected a decline this rapid—even though on Monday one of the nurses said Margaret was receiving hospice care now.
