The Amish Midwife's Secret

by Rachel J. Good

  Right now, though, Ruby needed to be changed, fed, and settled in again for the night. Or for as much of it as she’d sleep through. A few times Ruby had managed five or six hours straight at night, which was a blessing. Leah hoped this would be one of those nights.

  She spent time in prayer beside her daughter’s crib, praying for Ruby’s future and the wisdom to make the right choice. After the baby fell asleep, Leah tiptoed out of the room and slipped into the dark shop to call Kyle.

  The sadness in his voice when he answered struck at her heart. “I’ll be right over,” he said when she asked if he could come over to talk.

  Despite her worries that Kyle might not agree to join the Beachy Amish, Leah’s heart was at peace. She’d accept whatever happened as God’s will.

  The minute hand on the battery-powered clock crawled along as second after second ticked by. Would Kyle ever get here?

  When he finally arrived, he walked through the door, shoulders slumped. Was she responsible for that haggard look on his face?

  “Kyle, first of all, I didn’t say what was on my heart earlier. I tried to fight my attraction to you, but I ended up falling in love with you.”

  He groaned. “Leah, I’m already suffering enough. Knowing you care about me, but we can’t be together…”

  “Joel had a suggestion. Would you consider joining the Beachy Amish?”

  “How would I support you and the baby? Being a doctor is all I know.”

  “They aren’t as strict as the Old Order Amish. You could still be a doctor and drive a car. They’re sometimes called the Beachy Amish-Mennonites.”

  “I’d do anything if it meant I could have you. I spent the past hour wrestling with the idea of becoming Amish, but I don’t know the language or anything of the religious commitment. And I’d have no idea how I’d make a living.”

  “You’d have become Amish for me?”

  “I didn’t want to lose you.”

  “Oh, Kyle.” Leah flung herself into his arms.

  He folded her close to his heart and pressed his lips to hers.

  Leah’s heart overflowed with gladness and thanksgiving. God had answered her prayer in the most thrilling way possible. He’d not only given her the man of her dreams, a man she loved with all her heart, but He’d given her a child.

  After a while, Kyle pulled back. “I love you, Leah. I could stay here forever, but I want you to get your sleep.”

  Although he was right, Leah would be willing to forgo sleep to spend time in his arms.

  His voice thick, Kyle said, “I think we’ll make a great team. And I’m sure Martin and Esther will be thrilled to have us both in the office. We can even combine traditional and herbal medicine.”

  Leah feigned surprise. “What? You’d let me suggest herbal remedies for your patients?”

  “Hmm. Sometimes. We’ll have to work out some compromises.”

  “But both Fisher boys did recover,” Leah pointed out.

  “You don’t think jaundice and pneumonia would have healed faster and they’d have been safer in the hospital?”

  “Most likely they would have, but sometimes you have to think about the family’s needs.”

  Kyle tilted her chin up and met her lips. “Mmm…You might be right.”

  She pulled back. “Might?” she asked indignantly.

  “OK, OK.” He held up his hands in mock surrender. “You are right. You know, you’re so cute when your eyes flash like that.”

  “So you were teasing to get a rise out of me?”

  “Could be.” He lifted one eyebrow and smiled. “Actually, I looked up some of the herbs you carry, and there are plenty of scientific studies on their effectiveness, so I’m open to learning more.” Before she could retort, he added, “Even the ones without scientific evidence.”

  “Good.” Leah snuggled against him, resting her cheek on his strong chest, thrilled by his rapid heartbeat, which matched her own racing pulse.

  After another kiss, he placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her toward the hallway to the kitchen. “I said you should get some sleep, and I’m keeping you from it.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  “Neither do I, but I want to take good care of you.” Kyle twined his fingers through hers. “Could I kiss my daughter good night before I go?”

  Leah smiled. “Of course.”

  Together they slipped up the stairs and into the darkened room, where Ruby lay curled in the wooden cradle, sucking on her fist. Kyle knelt beside her and stroked her downy hair. Then he bent and kissed her.

  “Sleep tight,” he whispered.

  Then, arms around each other, Kyle and Leah stood by the cradle while moonlight streamed through the window, bathing all three of them in a heavenly glow.

  Also by Rachel J. Good

  The Love & Promises Series

  The Amish Teacher’s Gift

  Acknowledgments

  I feel very privileged to have had an Amish midwife deliver two of my five children at home. Like Leah in this story, Martha preferred herbal products, and she gave me insight into many Amish ways.

  I also owe a debt of gratitude to the wonderful people at the Clinic for Special Children in Strasburg, Pennsylvania, who do genetic research into inherited diseases of the Amish and Mennonites. They graciously gave of their time to show me around the clinic, explain their research, and demonstrate the equipment they use for studying genes. For those who want more information or who would like to donate to their work, please visit clinicforspecialchildren.org.

  As always, I’m grateful to my Amish friends, who invite me into their lives and check my books for accuracy.

  When Grace Fisher’s husband dies—leaving her pregnant and with two small children—she’s determined to take care of her family by herself. Elijah Beiler has always had a soft spot for Grace. But can he convince the independent widow to accept his help? And can he overcome his own past hurts to open his heart to a ready-made family?

  A preview of

  The Amish Widow’s Rescue

  follows.

  Chapter One

  Grace Fisher stood staring after the Englisch doctor who’d just handed her a huge wad of bills. He left through the side entrance of her barn so he couldn’t be seen from the house. She longed to run after him to return his money. But she could never erase the information she’d given him. She’d betrayed Miriam, hoping to save a baby.

  The money burned her fingers and her conscience. Judas had accepted thirty pieces of silver. Have I just done the same?

  Her daughter toddled toward her and grasped a handful of Grace’s black work apron to stay upright. Grace reached down and swept Libby into her arms. The comforting scent of her daughter’s plump body, the horsey smell of the Morgan stamping in his stall, and the cows lowing to be milked all drew her back to the barn and to her work.

  But first she needed to do something with the money. After checking over her shoulder to be sure her three-year-old son was still playing with the barn cat, she headed to the farthest stack of hay bales. Levi was now at the age where he noticed details and blurted things out at inappropriate times. The less he knew about this, the better.

  If her husband discovered she had this money, he’d take it, and Miriam would never see a penny. Rightfully, this money belonged to Miriam. All of it. Perhaps turning it over to their niece would relieve some of Grace’s guilt.

  She poked a hole in the top hay bale in the darkest corner. Although she was the only one who fed the animals, she still wanted to hide the roll of bills well. After pushing the money into the opening she’d made, she pulled bits of hay down to cover it until no green showed.

  She needed to hurry. The encounter with the doctor had made her late for the milking, and Melvin would soon be roaring for his dinner. With Libby clinging to her, Grace fed and watered the animals. Usually she required Levi to help, but right now it would be faster to do it herself.

  Then, hugging Libby close, she rushed to the first stall to milk
Daisy. After settling onto the stool, she shifted her daughter in her lap. It wasn’t easy doing chores with a child in her arms, but she’d learned to do many things while holding her babies. If she’d soon be adding another little one to their family, the practice would come in handy.

  Grace dreaded telling Melvin the news. Most Amish men were delighted about having children, but Melvin’s moods could be quite unpredictable. He might be noncommittal, or he might rage.

  After wiping the cow’s udder with antiseptic, Grace began the rhythmic motions of squirting milk into the pail. The familiar ping of liquid hitting the pail calmed her nerves. Levi joined her as she prepared to milk the next cow, so Grace put Libby down and placed Levi on the stool in front of her. He was old enough to learn to do chores now. Although it would take much longer, she guided his small hands as he cleaned the cow and struggled to get milk.

  “You’ll soon be strong enough to do this. Try again,” she encouraged him.

  To his delight, some milk dribbled into the pail. He giggled. “I did it.”

  “Yes, you did.” She placed her hand over his to strengthen his grip. “That’s the way. Keep going like this.” She bit her tongue before she praised him too much. Children should not be prideful. Neither should adults, but her spirit swelled with joy at his accomplishment.

  After the milking was finished, Grace picked up two pails of milk and, with the children clinging to her apron, headed for the barn door, her stomach queasy. They’d been out here much too long. Melvin would be furious if his dinner was late. When he flew into a temper, he often berated the children.

  The barn had been cold, but when Grace opened the door, frigid winds slapped her in the face. She wished she could protect her little ones from the cold—and their father’s wrath.

  The doctor had questioned her about her husband’s moods and asked if Melvin ever hurt her physically. She’d said no, but the look in his eyes made it clear he hadn’t believed her. But she’d told him the truth. Or most of it. With his weight now hovering slightly over three hundred pounds and with all his health issues, Melvin couldn’t get up from the couch to touch her. As long as they stayed out of arm’s reach, they were safe.

  Melvin was no longer the quiet, taciturn man she’d married four years ago. He’d lost his roofing job three years ago when the company folded. Since then, he’d been morose.

  Despite being pregnant with Levi at the time, Grace had started to sell jam to make ends meet. She often suspected friends and family bought her jams more to help the family than to serve at meals. Everyone in the community could easily make their own jams and jellies. But that first summer, a few tourists had stopped when they saw her homemade wooden sign by the driveway. They’d bought a dozen jars, and soon orders flowed in from several Englisch specialty shops in other states. Grace had gotten a business license and a home inspection, and now she worked long hours filling orders. Most of the Amish shops and tourist spots in the Lancaster area carried her jams too.

  But the more successful her business grew, the more Melvin’s spirits plunged. He’d been unable to find another job. His health declined, and Grace soon had to take over all his farming chores. The more Melvin sat, the larger he grew. And the worse his temper became. Today, the doctor had suggested her husband needed to see a doctor and had urged her to be sure he had a physical soon. But how could she suggest that to Melvin? He’d have a fit.

  The nauseous feeling in Grace’s stomach increased as she neared the back door. How much of it was from the baby she suspected she was carrying and how much from anxiety? She was keeping too many secrets. But she couldn’t tell Melvin about the baby. At least not yet. And if she told him about the money, he’d know she betrayed his niece. Her roiling stomach might also be from the guilt of concealing things from her husband.

  When they reached the back porch, Levi let go of her skirt and raced up the steps. Before she could warn him to be quiet, he banged through the door, letting the storm door slam shut behind him.

  As soon as Grace opened the door, her husband’s low snarl came from the living room, and she cringed. Levi halted midway through the kitchen. His head hung low as his father berated him. Grace longed to hug him, to cover his ears, to stop the flow of angry words. If she did, they’d all pay. She settled for squeezing Levi’s shoulder as she passed, hoping Melvin wouldn’t notice. He could only see part of the kitchen from his perch on the couch.

  Her son glanced up at her gratefully, and she signaled her love and support with a brief smile. But that was enough to direct Melvin’s attention to her.

  “It’s long past time to cook dinner,” Melvin barked. “What took you so long?”

  “The man…” Levi lisped in his three-year-old drawl.

  “Man?” Her husband stared at her accusingly. “What is he talking about?” He waved a hand toward their son.

  “I, umm, that is…” Grace set Libby at the kitchen table so she could keep her back to Melvin for a few moments to compose herself before turning to face him. She clutched the sides of her work apron to keep from wringing her hands together. If she did that, Melvin would know she was hiding something.

  Yet her conscience wouldn’t allow her to do something dishonest. She had to tell him the truth, the whole truth, even if it meant he took the money from her, even if he exploded.

  “Why was a man in the barn?” he snapped. “Who was he?”

  Bowing her head and keeping her eyes downcast, Grace sucked in a quick breath, but her words still came out shaky. “Th-that Englisch doctor who bought the jam.”

  “He came back to return it? It wasn’t to his taste?” The sneer on his face made it clear he didn’t think much of her jam-making business.

  Grace bit her lip. “No, he didn’t return it.” She kept her voice meek and gentle because the Bible said “a soft answer turneth away wrath.” Although it rarely worked with Melvin. “He wanted to ask me a question.” How could she tell him about Miriam?

  “He couldn’t have asked it when he was here in the house buying jam?” His eyes narrowed. “Or was it private?”

  At the way he emphasized the last word, Grace’s cheeks heated, and the words she’d been trying to form died on her lips. Was he accusing her of being unfaithful? She squeezed her eyes shut briefly to hold back tears. Then keeping her tone as measured as possible, she said, “He wanted Miriam’s address.”

  “You didn’t give it to him,” he said, but his eyes held a question.

  Grace froze, and her mouth dried out too much to answer.

  Melvin’s face purpled. “You did, didn’t you?” He pushed himself partway up from the couch, and Grace took a step back. “If they find out, they’ll make me pay back the money.” Spittle flew from his lips. “You didn’t care about that, did…” His voice trickled off into a gurgle, and he clutched at his heart. Then he keeled over, hitting the floor with a thud.

  * * *

  Elijah Beiler had just helped his father back into bed when someone banged on the back door. He had no wish to speak to anyone. For years, he’d been a recluse, only going to church on Sundays and occasionally meeting the truck driver who collected his milk for the distributor. Most of the time, though, he could leave notes for the driver. If families in the community needed help with a barn raising, he’d attend but try to find a solitary job.

  He intended to ignore the light banging, but a shrill child’s voice shouted, “Help!”

  A child. Elijah’s gut tightened. He did his best to avoid children ever since his sister…

  The yell came again. Praying it wasn’t a prank, he rushed to the door. His neighbor’s little boy stood on the doorstep. “Something bad happened to Daed. My mamm said to call the bu-lince.”

  Elijah blinked at him. Bu-lince? What in the world is that? “Is your daed hurt?”

  The small boy who had the same reddish hair and long eyelashes as his mamm—not that Elijah noticed things like that, of course—nodded vigorously. “He fell on the floor.”

  Elijah ha
dn’t seen Melvin Fisher outside the house in years, but he’d heard rumors that he’d become extremely overweight. If he fell, his slim little wife could never help him up, although she did seem to manage all the farming chores on her own.

  “Call quick,” the little boy said.

  Then it dawned on Elijah. Ambulance. That’s what the child had been saying. “Stay right here,” he commanded, pointing to the porch. Then he ran to the barn to call 911.

  The Fishers didn’t have a phone, but Elijah had one in the barn for the dairy business. He made the call, gave the address, and rushed back out. Until the ambulance came, he might be able to help. He’d volunteered at the fire company when he was younger, so he had some emergency training.

  Scooping up the small boy, he raced across the side lawn to the house next door. He barged through the back door without knocking. “I called 911,” he called out. “They’re sending an ambulance.”

  Through the kitchen archway, the petite redhead was tugging and pulling at a huge inert body. The man, who appeared dazed but conscious, seemed to be struggling against her efforts.

  “What happened?” Elijah asked as he hurried into the room.

  “I think it’s his heart.”

  Elijah couldn’t resist the plea in her soft green eyes. “Let me help,” he said, moving to the opposite side. Pulling his gaze from her eyes, Elijah forced himself to meet her husband’s. “You didn’t hurt or break anything when you fell, did you?” When the man shook his head, Elijah said, “If we all work together, we can prop you up against the couch.”