“But the community would...”
“Colorado’s Amish community is quite small. There are less people, and the land is much harder to farm. Plus, my parents would have never let it be known that they needed a dawdi haus. But when Daddi came to live with us, he brightened up the place. My parents have always seemed quite stern to me, but Daddi was...different.”
“You loved him.”
“I love them all, but I enjoyed being around him.” She plucked at the hospital blanket. “They say I can’t stay alone, Thomas. I don’t know what to do.”
“Luke and Naomi had some ideas on that. But first, tell me how you’re feeling and what the doctor said.” He’d heard most of the details from Naomi, but he wanted to hear them from Abigail. He also wanted to know if she’d understood the doctor’s instructions in the same way that Naomi had.
It only took a few minutes for her to go over all the tests and the results. She only smiled once, when she told him that she was having a girl.
“Ya? That’s wunderbaar.”
“It is. I would have loved a boy, of course, but I feel like I would have known less about how to raise one.”
“I guess they’re pretty much the same at that age.”
“Maybe.” She crossed her arms over her stomach and stared at the blanket. Her voice—when she finally spoke—was small and trembly. “What am I going to do, Thomas?”
“About living alone?”
“Ya. I don’t know anyone that well. And the people I do know, they all have families to care for.” She looked up at him now, as if she expected him to have an answer.
Which he did, but she wasn’t going to like it.
“Luke and Naomi know someone who they think will be happy to come and stay with you.”
“Really?”
“Ya.”
“Who?”
“Mammi Troyer.”
Abigail shook her head. “I don’t think I know who that is.”
“I worked for her once. She’s a nice lady.”
“Ugh. Having a stranger stay with me every day...”
“It’s not for the rest of your life, Abigail. Just until your doschder is born.”
And that word—doschder—softened the stubborn look that had crept onto her face.
“You’re right. Okay. I’ll do it.”
“There’s one more thing.” He pulled the cell phone from his pocket. “They want you to call your parents first.”
Abigail’s expression had turned to one of puzzlement. “Why? Why would I do that?”
“How did Luke say it...?” He studied his hands, then glanced up at her. “He said you should give them the opportunity to bless you.”
“Obviously he doesn’t know my mamm.”
Thomas thought that perhaps Abigail was being a bit dramatic, but then he could relate to where she might be coming from. He hadn’t been raised by exemplary parents either. His mamm had done the best she could, which, looking back, he realized wasn’t good at all. His dat’s behavior was owing to his addiction.
He understood bad parenting, but he also believed that at some point you picked yourself up and moved on with your life.
“Is she that bad?”
Abigail didn’t answer. She held out her hand, and he dropped the old-style flip phone into her palm. An Amish bishop might occasionally carry a phone, in some progressive districts, but it wouldn’t be what the Englischers called a smartphone. Nothing smart about the small black device that Abigail was holding.
“Will you have to leave a message at the phone shack?”
“Nein. Most every Plain farmer in Monte Vista has a side business, and every side business has a phone in the office area. It’s not attached to the house, of course. But chances are that someone will hear it ringing even though they’ve already closed up for the day.” She glanced up at the clock, which showed it was nearly nine in the evening.
They would be out in the work area at nine in the evening? Most Amish people that Thomas knew were asleep by that time. Then he remembered the time change—it would be two hours earlier in Colorado.
“Do you want me to give you some privacy?”
“Nein, I’d rather you stay.” Then she pulled in a deep breath and punched in her parents’ number.
The conversation was rather short. Abigail gave the brief version of her current situation. Thomas couldn’t hear how her mamm replied, but Abigail’s portion of the conversation told him what he needed to know.
“Ya. Of course.”
“I understand.”
“Ya, Mamm.”
“All right. You’ve made yourself quite clear.”
Between each statement, her mamm must have lectured some more. At one point, Abigail set the phone down on top of her stomach and stared up at the ceiling. Apparently, when she picked it up, her mamm was still talking. Finally, she said goodbye, pushed a button on the phone and handed it back to Thomas.
“That didn’t sound gut.”
“About what I expected.”
“Meaning...”
“Meaning that she had planned to come and see me after Thanksgiving, and that a little baby scare wasn’t enough reason to change her plans.”
“But you need someone to stay with you. I heard you tell her that...at the beginning.”
Abigail shrugged. Finally, she said, “My mamm’s a big believer in learning to handle things on your own.”
Thomas didn’t understand, but apparently Abigail wasn’t going to say anything else on the subject.
Instead, she squared her shoulders. “Looks like it’s Mammi Troyer or no one.”
Oh, there would be someone. If Mammi said no, and Thomas doubted that would happen, then a barrage of women would set up a schedule with four-hour shifts. Abigail would not be left alone to handle this.
As for Thomas, he was already wondering if he should move into the barn until the baby was born.
Chapter Seven
Abigail ended up spending the night at the hospital. It took longer than the doctor had hoped to bring her blood pressure down to a safe level. The next morning, she woke up early, having slept better than she had in a long time. After receiving the nurse’s permission, she showered, put on the clothes she’d been wearing the day before and ate the breakfast they brought.
There was a knock on her door, and Clare King stuck her head in. “I heard there was an Amish woman in here...ready to break out.”
“I am! But what are you doing here?”
“The kids are with Saul’s mamm. She lives next door.” She walked into the room and sank onto a chair. “So. Have you been watching soap operas?”
Abigail laughed. “I haven’t even turned the television on.”
“I guess you’ve been pretty tired.” Clare reached across and grasped her hand. “Everyone has been praying. You’re feeling better?”
“Yes, but how did you even know I was here?”
Clare shrugged her shoulders. “You know how it is. Amish grapevine.”
They both smiled at that.
“Also, I’m here to give you a ride home.”
Which was exactly what Abigail needed to hear. Within an hour, she was discharged. They went by the pharmacy to pick up her prescription, and then Clare turned her buggy toward Abigail’s house.
“It’ll be nice to be home.”
“You were gone less than a day.”
They both laughed. The sun was shining, and the air was crisp. It was hard to believe that it was October, and by mid-November, she’d be a mamm. She supposed that technically she already was, but by the time Thanksgiving came around, she’d be holding her baby girl in her arms.
Abigail told Clare that the doctor didn’t want her to stay alone and that Naomi thought Mammi Troyer would come.
Clare nodded in approval. “You know Mam
mi, don’t you?”
“I don’t think so.”
“She sits with the older women.”
“I feel terrible, but I don’t really know many people’s names.”
Clare glanced at her, then refocused on the road. “Mammi is special. We all think so.”
They pulled into Abigail’s drive. Thomas waved them toward the front porch.
“Say, how do you like having Thomas work for you?”
“I like it, I guess. I wish I didn’t need the help, but since I do...”
“He’s handsome. Don’t you think?”
Abigail felt her cheeks warm. She’d been thinking that very thing. One glance at Clare, and they both fell to laughing again.
“I act like a youngie when I’m around you,” she confessed.
“Is that so bad?”
“I suppose not.”
Clare called out to her horse, pulled on the reins and then set the brake on the buggy.
Thirty minutes later, Abigail had changed clothes and was in bed. “This feels ridiculous,” she muttered. “It’s the middle of the day.”
“I’ve put your baby books on the side table, along with a glass of water.” Clare bent down and gave her a hug. “Oh, and Thomas wants you to have this.”
She handed her a whistle. “I threaded a piece of the baby ribbon you had left over through it. That way, you can wear it around your neck.”
“I’m supposed to wear it?”
“He says that he’ll be able to hear that whistle anywhere on the property.”
“You don’t say.”
“Give it a try. Let’s see how long it takes him to get here.” Her eyes were sparkling, and she wiggled her eyebrows, daring Abigail to blow on the whistle.
Abigail shook her head, laughter bubbling up inside of her. Oh, Clare did help her to see the fun in things.
She gave the whistle a solid blow, causing them both to clap their hands over their ears. Clare watched the second hand on the clock and at the twenty-five-second mark, Thomas burst through the door.
“What is it? What’s wrong? Do you need to go back to the hospital?”
Abigail felt a twinge of guilt for causing him to worry. “Nein, nein. I was just...practicing.”
Then Thomas noticed Clare trying to hide her laughter behind her hands.
“Oh, very funny. Were you timing me?”
“Say, Thomas. I have to go.” Clare picked up her purse and pulled on her coat, catching Abigail’s gaze and nearly sending her into another fit of laughter. “You’ll be here with Abigail until Mammi comes, right?”
“Ya. Sure.”
“We don’t even know for certain that she’s coming,” Abigail protested.
Clare and Thomas shared a look that Abigail couldn’t quite interpret.
“What’s going on?”
Thomas shrugged, then admitted, “Actually, Luke stopped by earlier. I told him Clare would help you get settled, and he said to tell you Mammi would be here midafternoon.”
Abigail rolled her eyes heavenward.
This being taken care of was amusing at first, but she wasn’t sure she had the patience for it. Then she thought of her doschder, remembered the doctor’s look of concern and nodded.
She’d find the patience, somehow.
Because being inconvenienced was nothing when compared to the safety of her boppli.
Clare told her to get some rest.
Thomas reminded her he’d be just outside.
Once she was alone in her room, Abigail had every intention of reading through one of the baby books someone had left for her, but she ended up sleeping through most of the afternoon. She woke to the sound of voices outside—Thomas and a woman. It must be Mammi Troyer. Abigail glanced at the clock. It was nearly four in the afternoon. Maybe she was coming by to say hello, and to let her know she’d spend the next day with her. Abigail almost hopped up to greet her at the door, but she remembered she was supposed to stay in bed.
She was stewing over that when Mammi and Thomas appeared at her bedroom door. Thomas stood behind her, towered over her really. Perhaps it was the contrast between the two that caused Mammi to seem so small. The woman must have been just shy of five feet and couldn’t have weighed a hundred pounds. Her face was a virtual map of wrinkles and her white hair peeked from her kapp. She wore large owlish glasses that magnified her blue eyes, and she walked with a cane.
Oh boy.
Who was going to be helping whom?
But that wasn’t the worst of it. When Mammi stepped into the room, Abigail was able to see that Thomas was carrying a suitcase. A suitcase? Why did Mammi bring a suitcase?
Mammi might be small, old and need a cane, but she moved with amazing agility. She was beside Abigail’s bed in a flash, straightening the covers and tsking.
“You must be Abigail. I’ve heard so much about you, child.”
“And you’re Mammi Troyer.”
“Just Mammi is fine. It’s what everyone calls me. One of the advantages of being old is that you become everyone’s grandmother.” Mammi sat in the chair beside Abigail’s bed, but turned her attention to Thomas.
“You can leave the suitcase in the sitting room, Thomas. I’ll make myself quite comfortable on the couch.”
She was going to sleep on the couch?
“As for the other boxes, just stack them in the kitchen. We’ll get to them as we need them.”
Abigail looked up at Thomas, a dozen questions lingering on her lips. He mouthed, “Be nice,” then ducked out of the room. What did that mean? When was she not nice?
She turned back to Mammi and plastered on a smile. “I didn’t realize you would be staying overnight.”
“More than overnight. I’ll be here until your boppli arrives.” And then she leaned forward and put her hands on Abigail’s stomach, nearly causing Abigail to jump out of the covers.
If Mammi noticed her startled reaction, she didn’t comment on it. In fact, her eyes were closed and she began to pray aloud—for Abigail’s child, for Abigail’s doctor, for Thomas and Luke and Naomi and herself. And then she prayed that Gotte would keep his hand upon Abigail, that He would care for her as He cared for the sparrow, and would protect and guide her.
Abigail thought the tears would start to flow again.
Other than Thomas carrying her outside, no one had touched her for so long. Oh, there was the occasional hand clasp from Clare, the pat on her arm from Naomi. This was different. Mammi’s hands on her stomach felt like a blessing. For the first time in a very long time, Abigail was able to breathe deeply. The anxiety that seemed to always reside in her belly fled.
Possibly for the first time since moving to Shipshewana, Abigail had the hope that maybe everything was going to be all right.
* * *
Thomas had no reason to go back into the house before he left for the day, but neither did he feel good just driving away. Best to be sure. He climbed the porch steps, knocked the dirt and mud off his shoes and tapped lightly on the door. Thinking both of the women might be in the back of the house, he opened the front door and stuck his head inside.
What he saw then surprised him.
Abigail was lying on her left side on the couch, a pillow behind her head and a knitted blanket covering her. She glanced up from the book she was reading. With a smile, she motioned him into the room, then turned the book so that he could see a picture of various vegetables and fruits.
“My doschder is the size of a coconut, or maybe a honeydew melon.”
“Ya?” He took the book and pretended to study it. His eyes fell to the image beside week thirty-nine, and he almost dropped the book. Her stomach was going to be as big as a watermelon? Literally? He snapped the book shut and set it on the coffee table.
“I see you’ve moved to the living room.”
“
Yup. Mammi said that it wasn’t gut to stay in one room all day. She’s dealt with preeclampsia before. She said that lying on the couch was every bit as gut as lying on the bed.”
“Did she now?”
“It definitely helps my mood to be out of my bedroom for a few hours.”
He didn’t point out that she’d only been home a few hours or that she had six weeks to go. Probably best not to bring either up right now. “Everything’s gut?”
“Ya.” Abigail lowered her voice. “I didn’t realize Mammi was going to live here.”
“Ah.”
“Doesn’t she have...family?”
“Not anymore. She had a husband and two sons, but she outlived them both.”
“She must have grandkinner.”
“Oh, sure. The daughters-in-law remarried over twenty years ago. They all live in Goshen now. She sees them several times a year.”
“Why doesn’t she live with them?”
Thomas shrugged. “Stubborn, maybe? I did some work on her place a while ago. She leased out the fields, but she needed help putting in her vegetable garden.”
“I can’t imagine her sleeping on the couch.” Abigail worried her thumbnail before blurting out, “She’s eighty if she’s a day. I think I should give her my room...”
“You’ll do no such thing,” Mammi called out from the kitchen.
Abigail pressed her fingers to her lips, though whether it was because Mammi had overheard her or to stop from laughing, Thomas wasn’t sure.
He leaned forward and said in a very loud whisper, “Her hearing is freakishly good for someone her age.”
“Indeed, it is,” Mammi called out.
Thomas and Abigail shared a smile.
Finally, Thomas said, “Let me think on the bed problem. I might know someone who has an extra bed I could bring over.”
“She’s only here for six weeks, though.”
“Six weeks on a couch can seem like a long time.”
Mammi appeared at the archway that separated the kitchen from the sitting room. “Your generation has been blessed more than you realized. These old bones have spent many a night sleeping in a hayloft, or on a porch, or even on the floor. A few weeks on a couch won’t hurt me a bit.”
An Amish Baby for Christmas Page 10
