Joanna learning to walk.
Joanna saying her name.
Joanna going to school, working in a bakery or a shop, courting and marrying.
“Crying is normal,” Mammi murmured. “Lots of emotions when a boppli is born.”
She pushed away the plate of food, her appetite suddenly gone. “I was thinking of her marrying.”
“That’s a ways off.”
“Yes, I suppose in one way it is. But in another way, it’s just around the corner.”
“It’s gut to appreciate every day,” Mammi agreed. She proceeded to guide Abigail in nursing Baby Jo, and after that they changed her diaper.
Abigail’s heart flooded with joy as she cared for her child. She felt happier and more satisfied than any other day in her life.
As Mammi helped her to position Little Jo back in the crook of her arm, there was a tap on the door and Thomas stepped into the room.
* * *
Thomas couldn’t take his eyes off Abigail. She was okay. Better than okay. She was sitting up and smiling. She looked—well, she looked positively radiant. Her auburn hair flowed around her shoulders. It reminded him of the other time he’d seen her without her kapp, when she’d been so sick and in danger of losing the baby. It seemed like yesterday and a lifetime ago all at the same time. He couldn’t think clearly, only that she was here, and she was fine.
“Come meet my doschder.”
Thomas’s gaze dropped to the bundle in her arms. He could just make out a little pink face. Stepping closer, it felt as if the world tilted slightly. His heart caught in his throat. He tried to speak, found he couldn’t, swallowed and tried again.
“She’s beautiful, Abigail.”
“Isn’t she? I know all mothers think so, but...to me, she’s perfect.”
Mammi clapped her hands. “All Gotte’s creatures are beautiful and all are perfectly formed.”
Standing, she tugged her purse strap up over her shoulder. “I’ll go and put a call in to Naomi and Luke. Let them know that there’s no need to rush up here. Mom and baby will soon be sleeping.”
“Are you tired?” Thomas nearly slapped his own forehead. “Of course, you’re tired. I should go...”
“Stay a few minutes, at least long enough to say hello.”
Mammi slipped from the room, and Thomas dropped into the chair that she had been sitting in. Reaching out a finger, he stroked the baby’s cheek. Had he ever seen anything so tiny and perfect and precious?
“Thomas, meet Joanna. And Joanna, this is Thomas. He’s your...” She glanced up at him, then dropped her eyes back to the baby. “He will always be your very special friend. He drove us to the hospital.”
“I’m surprised I didn’t go the wrong direction.”
“Were you rattled?”
“Rattled? After Mammi’s call, I put my coat on over my bedclothes, then had to run back inside and change.”
They both laughed.
“She’s okay? I know your due date was actually next week.”
“It was. Or they thought it was, but the doctor said that Jo is perfect. She weighs six pounds, three ounces. Can you believe it?”
Thomas could believe it. He’d caught bigger fish than that. He glanced up at the clock. The hour had crept into the next day. It was Tuesday, the sixteenth of November.
He was still leaning forward, his hand resting on top of Abigail’s bundle of joy. He knew he should sit back, keep his distance, but in that moment of new birth and fresh beginnings, the pull of the two of them was simply too strong. “‘Tuesday’s child is full of grace,’” he murmured.
“What’s that?”
“Something my mamm used to say to each of us.”
Her hand was beside his, as if she needed to stay very close to the baby, as if they were still attached by some emotional umbilical cord. He traced the back of her hand with his index finger, and her gaze jerked up to meet his—but she didn’t pull away.
“I’d forgotten all about it.” He cleared his throat, swallowed past the swell of emotions. “‘Monday’s child is fair of face, Tuesday’s child is full of grace...’”
“That’s beautiful.” Abigail smiled, and suddenly Thomas was holding her hand between both of his. She tilted her head. “What’s the rest of it?”
“‘Wednesday’s child is full of woe.’”
“Oh, that’s true. I have a bruder born on a Wednesday. He’s very dramatic.”
Thomas laughed. He felt suddenly light-headed, his heart unaccountably filled with joy. How had he gone from being a confirmed bachelor to losing his heart? And Abigail was acting as if there was nothing surprising about it. They were having a completely normal conversation as he sat there holding her hand, Abigail’s newborn babe lying on the bed between them.
But there was nothing normal about it, because his world had been turned upside down.
“And Thursday?”
“Thursday?”
Abigail smiled at him as if he’d just said something very clever. “Thursday’s child...”
“Oh. Right. ‘Thursday’s child has far to go.’ I have no idea what that means.”
“Friday’s child...”
“‘Is loving and giving.’”
Thomas didn’t want this moment to end. He wanted to sit there, not worrying about the future or the past, and just revel in this moment with Abigail. Then she blushed, and he knew what she was about to say.
“I was born on a Friday.”
“I should have guessed as much.” Thomas shook his head. “I can’t believe I remember this. If you’d asked me yesterday, I wouldn’t have been able to tell you a word of it. Funny the things that come back to you during important moments.”
Her eyes met his. He swallowed again and focused all of his energies on not leaning forward to kiss her. “Where were we?”
“Saturdays.” She narrowed her eyes. “Say, what day were you born?”
“I was born on a Saturday, actually.”
“And the saying?”
“‘Saturday’s child works hard for his living.’”
“You’re making that up.”
“Nein, I’m not.”
“I might need to see it in writing—not your writing, but in a proper book.”
He laughed. How was it that he could feel so lighthearted around her? Perhaps it was the lack of sleep, or the intensity of the moment. He shouldn’t put too much weight on whatever was happening between them. He shouldn’t put his faith in it.
“Don’t leave me in suspense. What about Sunday?”
He rubbed his chin. “I can’t seem to remember...”
“You do too! Now you’re just teasing.”
Baby Jo stirred, and Abigail pulled her hand from his in order to adjust the blanket around her child.
Reluctantly, Thomas sat back, his eyes locked on the newborn. “‘The child that is born on the Sabbath day is fair and wise and good in every way.’”
That sat between them for a moment, and then they both said simultaneously, “Mammi.”
“We’ll have to ask her.” Abigail yawned.
“You should sleep.”
“I am suddenly, deliciously tired. Can you set her in the bassinet, then push it closer to the bed?”
He didn’t want to. He did not want to pick up that little bundle of joy, but he saw his arms reaching for her, then he was holding something so small and so amazing, that all other thoughts fled.
How could this have been in Abigail’s body just a few hours ago? Baby Jo stared back at him, and that moment was Thomas’s undoing. He lost his heart. He lost it to this child, this woman and this moment. He knew he’d never have another experience quite like it, even if they were to marry and have a dozen children.
Wait. What was he thinking?
Marry?
Have a dozen children?
He glanced around for the bassinet, placed Joanna gently in it and pushed the bed closer to Abigail. His pulse was thundering and his hands were sweating. He suddenly needed to be outside in the fresh air. He needed to be out of this room.
Abigail failed to notice his discomfort. Her eyes were on her child. She turned on her side, her hair spilling over her shoulder, snugged the hospital blanket up to her chin and yawned.
“I should go.”
She nodded as her eyes drifted shut.
He’d reached the door when she said, “Danki, Thomas.”
A dozen responses flitted through his mind.
No need to thank me.
Don’t depend on me. I’m not reliable!
I love you, Abigail. I love you both.
But he didn’t say any of those things. He whispered the age-old words, “Gem gschehne,” and then he practically ran from the room.
Chapter Ten
The next two weeks passed with a flurry. For Thanksgiving, Abigail, Baby Jo and Mammi went to the bishop’s. Abigail was happy to be out of the house, and the Fishers’ place was beginning to feel like a second home to her. Luke, Naomi and all of their children made a fuss over the baby, and though much of her situation was still unresolved, Abigail found herself thankful for the small things—a home, a healthy child, her church community, Mammi, Thomas.
November turned to December, and Abigail’s thoughts turned to Christmas.
Her boppli’s first Christmas.
She wanted it to be special.
She wanted it to be amazing.
She wanted to talk to Thomas about her plans, but Thomas was avoiding her. She’d suspected as much the first week home, but now she was certain of it. Was it because of what had happened between them in the hospital room? Something had happened. He’d held her hand for a full five minutes, and his eyes—his eyes had said what he refused to admit, that he cared about her.
At least she thought he did.
She hoped he did.
But how was she to know when she never saw him? He rarely came into the house anymore, and the few times he did he avoided sitting down, avoided being alone with Abigail and absolutely refused to hold Baby Jo.
The last time Abigail had tried to pass the boppli to him still caused her to laugh—and sigh. Mammi had been taking a nap, and Abigail needed to fetch a clean diaper. It was one of the rare times that Thomas was in the house. He was describing her options for spring crops. How could he be worried about spring crops in December? He was waving a seed catalog around when Baby Jo had begun to fuss.
Abigail stood and tried to put the boppli in his arms. Thomas had held his hands up in front of him and taken two steps back. Two giant steps. Like in that old game Mother May I.
“Oh, my, you won’t break her.”
“But I could.”
“Thomas, be serious.”
“I am serious. I have a hard-and-fast rule that I don’t cuddle, touch or carry babies until they can hold their own head up.”
Abigail sighed. “Then sit here on the couch beside her while I go and fetch some clean diapers and a warm cloth.”
She placed the child in a cocoon of pillows on the couch, then turned toward Thomas and cocked her head. “Unless you want to change her?”
“For sure and certain I do not.” His voice was grave, but his expression had softened.
She wanted to reach out and touch his face, to ask him what had happened between them and why he was afraid. But Jo scrunched up her face and let out a healthy wail. Thomas looked as if the mare had bolted over the fence.
“Don’t panic. I’ll hurry.” By the time she made it back into the sitting room, Thomas was patting Jo’s stomach and saying “Whoa, baby. Whoa...” in a gentle voice.
“She’s not a horse, you know.”
“I guess.”
“You guess?”
“I know she’s not a horse, Abigail, but sometimes what works with an animal works with a person.”
She started to set him straight on that but decided now probably wasn’t the time. At least he was talking to her. “My mamm arrives next week.”
“I know you’re looking forward to that.”
“Not really.” She sighed. “I should be. I’ve been speaking to Mammi and Luke about it. I want to have a gut visit with her, but my mamm is...difficult. It’s easier for me to avoid any confrontation with her, so I tend to find myself holding my tongue and fleeing the room.”
“Hmm.”
“Hmm what?”
“You’ve never done that with me.”
She unpinned Jo’s diaper. Thomas made a face and pulled away. “That’s worse than what you clean out of a horse stable.”
“It is not!”
“Wow. Big things come from little packages.”
She folded up the diaper and handed it to him. “Can you put this in the pail in the bathroom? I’ll deal with it later.”
Thomas held the diaper as if it was filled with toxic sludge.
Abigail picked up Baby Jo, who was much happier with her clean diaper. “Your onkel Thomas is silly,” she whispered.
“Onkel Thomas, huh?”
She hadn’t realized he was back. She smiled up at him sweetly. “You’re sort of like an onkel.”
“I guess.”
It was an awkward moment. Did he want to be more? Did he want to be less? She simply couldn’t read his thoughts so she opted to change the subject.
“Say, Thomas, I’ve been thinking about Christmas.”
“Have you now?” He perched on the edge of the rocking chair, as if he might need to dash from the room at any moment.
“I was thinking that I’d like the holiday to be extra special for Jo. Her first Christmas should be unforgettable. I’d like this room to be filled with the sights and smells of Christmas. I know I don’t have much money...”
Her voice trailed off as she thought of what an understatement that was. She’d had a call from the lawyer the day after coming home with Baby Jo. Gabriela Martinez had done a thorough analysis of Asher’s finances and learned that he had borrowed heavily against the farm—to build the fences and acquire an additional section of land. Financially, things were looking grim. She’d shared the news with Mammi and Thomas. Mammi has assured her Gotte was still in control. Thomas had grumbled something about people being irresponsible and stomped out to the barn.
“I actually have very little money, but I think there are a lot of things we can do that won’t cost much.”
“Planning on a Christmas tree?”
She tilted her head to the side and studied him, aware that he was teasing her. “Nein. No Christmas tree.”
“Oh, I thought you were going all Englisch on me.”
“Sure, ya. Maybe you could fetch me a plastic Santa or a herd of plastic reindeer to put on the lawn.” When Thomas continued to stare at her, she continued. “I was thinking of putting some pine boughs on the windowsills. Perhaps you could bring up a small hay bale to the porch and I could decorate it like a snowman.”
“Wait a few weeks. I’m sure we’ll have snow. That always looks Christmassy.”
She tried to ignore his teasing.
“If I could find some bushes with red berries, maybe bring a few of those branches inside.” She looked down at the baby, who was now sound asleep. “I want her first Christmas to be extra special. I want every Christmas to be extra special.”
Thomas popped out of the chair abruptly, pulling at the collar of his shirt as if the room were suddenly unbearably warm.
“What’s wrong?”
“She’s an infant, Abigail. She won’t know if you’ve decorated for Christmas or not.”
The skin over her right eye started to twitch—a sure sign she was about to lose her temper. “She might know. She
could be forming memories right now.”
“You’re being silly.”
“I am not.” Now she was getting hot. She could feel the flush creeping up her cheeks.
“We’re not Englisch.”
“I never said we were!” She stood and put Baby Jo in her bassinet. Somehow the infant continued to sleep blissfully despite the loud conversation going on around her. Putting her hands on her hips, Abigail faced Thomas. “What’s bugging you?”
“Nothing’s bugging me.”
“Plainly something is—you don’t stop in to visit anymore, you never eat dinner with us and now you’re making fun of my Christmas plans. What difference does it make to you what we do?”
“You’re right.” He snatched up his hat from the coffee table and squished it on his head. “It makes no difference to me at all.”
And then he was gone.
Just like that.
She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She did not understand men at all. But she was left with a profound sense of disappointment. She’d wanted him to join in her planning. She’d wanted him to be a part of their small Christmas celebration.
At dinner that night, she broached the subject of Thomas with Mammi. She was grateful that the dear woman was still staying with her. A few days after she’d come home with Jo, she’d asked Mammi if she needed to get back to her own place. Mammi had smiled and said, “I’m in no hurry, as long as you’ll have me.”
They felt like a family, the three of them.
Abigail wanted Mammi there, and she most certainly wanted her there when her mamm came to visit. But that wasn’t the first concern on her mind as they ate chicken and dumplings.
“Thomas seems rather put out with me lately.”
“Does he now?”
“I know you’ve noticed that he rarely eats with us anymore.”
“I suppose he’s quite busy taking care of this place. There’s a lot of work for a farmer to do in the winter. Most people don’t realize that.”
“Oh, I realize, but he found time before...” She stirred her spoon around in her bowl, found another piece of chicken and popped it into her mouth.
“Before when, dear?”
An Amish Baby for Christmas Page 13
