by Amy Lillard
“It will be okay,” Mamm said. “Sometimes it isn’t okay in the way we want it to be, but it always ends up okay.”
Tillie raised her head. “You’re right, of course.” Mamm usually was.
A knock sounded at the door. Mamm looked to Tillie, who shrugged.
“Who could that be at this hour?” Mamm bustled out of the kitchen to the front door. No good came from late-night visitors, that much was certain.
“Oh my!” her mother cried.
The visitor replied. Tillie couldn’t understand the words, but she knew the voice.
She was on her feet in a heartbeat. She rushed out of the kitchen, through the dining room, and to the front door.
“What are you doing here?”
Mamm stepped back as Melvin Yoder crossed the threshold. He gave Tillie a sheepish smile, then his gaze dropped to her waistline. “I came to see my baby.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
I came to see my baby. The words washed over Tillie in a cold wave. He hadn’t come for her. Only for Emmy. Or maybe she was reading too much into it.
“She’s asleep,” Tillie said. But she led the way to the room where the baby was resting in the cradle. Every unsaid thing that needed saying trailed behind them.
Not now, she told herself. It would all be spoken soon enough.
Melvin crossed the room and looked down at the baby. He sucked in a breath, and she immediately understood.
“She’s beautiful.”
“I know.”
He reached out a hand as if to touch her but stopped short. “I want to hold her, but I don’t want to wake her.”
“She pretty much sleeps all the time. She’s newborn, you know.”
“I know,” Melvin said.
“I didn’t mean for that to sound the way it came out. Just that she sleeps a lot. In a couple of weeks she’ll be more alert, looking at things around her and staying awake more instead of just sleeping all the time. Right now she’s just adjusting to the world.”
The world she isn’t going to get to stay in.
“I can hold her tomorrow?” Melvin asked.
“Of course.”
Melvin gave Emmy one last wistful look and backed away from the cradle. Together she and Melvin walked from the room. She gently closed the door as not to disturb Emmy before it was time to eat.
“She should sleep for another couple of hours,” she told Melvin. “If you’re still here maybe you can hold her then.”
“I plan on staying,” he said.
Tillie told her heart not to hope. He didn’t say how long he was staying and he didn’t say if he was staying to be Amish. Only that he was staying.
She wanted to ask, wanted to find out if his words meant what she wished they did, but she bit back the questions. She hadn’t seen him in almost two weeks.
Mamm stuck her head into the hallway. “Come to the kitchen,” she said. “I’ve got coffee and cranberry bread.”
Tillie nodded, though just the thought of cranberry bread brought Levi to mind. Him in the kitchen wearing a cook’s apron, covered in flour as he baked with her niece.
She looked back to Melvin, then he turned and made his way to the kitchen. She couldn’t imagine him doing anything so domesticated, so tame.
Nothing about Melvin had ever been tame.
His black hair was slicked back in a new style for him. He wore frayed English blue jeans, lace-up motorcycle boots, and a black leather jacket. More than anything, he looked dangerous. Or maybe that was because he held her fate in his hands. The worst part of all was that he knew it. The question was, what would he do about it?
He sat down at the kitchen table like he had done countless times before. Tillie sat across from him and opened the container that held the cranberry bread.
Mamm laid out a napkin for each of them and brought down three mugs.
Tillie knew that it meant her mamm was staying in the kitchen with them. So much for talking things through. It was the one thing Tillie knew had to be done, but she dreaded it all the same. Every time she and Melvin had tried to talk something out in these last few weeks, they just ended up in an argument. Christmas Eve was tomorrow; she didn’t want to argue with him now. Maybe they should postpone any serious talks until after the holiday. But could she stand having him close and not knowing his thoughts for three days?
Why not? She’d had no response in weeks. What was a few more days?
“I don’t know why I’m doing this,” Mamm said. “Well, I do. But I’m sure I’ll have to confess this all the same.” She was talking about welcoming Melvin into their home.
“Can I sleep in the barn? I had the driver drop me off here,” he said. “But I still have a cousin on the other side of Randolph. I can go see him tomorrow. He might let me stay there. But I don’t really have a place to stay tonight.”
Tillie knew he didn’t have the money for a hotel, even one of the cheap ones in town.
“I’ll have to talk to Abner. Maybe you can stay with David?”
Tillie wasn’t sure how David would feel about having such a rebel in his house, but David was always sweet and welcoming. If she were guessing right, she would say he wouldn’t bat an eye at having Melvin stay with him.
Melvin shook his head. “It’s late. I don’t want to disturb him. I’ve rattled everyone enough already.”
“It’ll be too cold in the barn. If you don’t want to bother David, you can stay on the couch here.”
“Thank you,” Melvin said.
“That way you’ll be close.”
Why did Mamm want him close?
“As soon as the bishop finds out you’re back, he’ll be here to talk to you,” Tillie said.
Melvin took a sip of his coffee and a bite of the cranberry bread before answering. “I know.”
“It’s getting late,” Mamm said.
As if to prove her words, the front door opened and closed. The sound of footsteps grew near. Dat. He looked into the kitchen and saw them. He let out a guttural sound that Tillie knew was a mixture of disgust and disappointment, then he made his way down the hall. He was going to bed. One other thing was clear: Melvin had stopped by the barn before he had come to the house. Tillie wondered if he had asked for permission to approach them. Her dat must’ve given it, for Melvin was seated at the table and her father didn’t say a word. He wasn’t much of a talker, but even he would break his silence for something as big as the return of Melvin Yoder.
Tillie picked up her coffee mug and stood, only then realizing that she hadn’t taken even one drink of the brew.
“Good night,” she said, dipping low to kiss her mamm on the cheek. Childish as it was, that was one of the things she missed most when she left home, saying good night to her mother. She only had a couple more days, and then she would miss it again.
She barely cast a glance at Melvin, then she made her way to her room. She didn’t know what to say. There was almost too much to say. Too many ideas and questions that went in three different directions. Most important to her was the one that had him staying, marrying her, and living Amish. It would take care of their transgressions. Almost wipe them clean. Almost. But she would get to raise her daughter Amish. Not in the hard English world.
But do you want to be married to Melvin for the rest of your life?
There was a time when she had. A time when that was all she thought about. And maybe with time she would feel that way again. But somehow when she thought about marrying Melvin, it was Levi who popped into her head. She thought that the English had a word for it when a person fell in love with their rescuer. She didn’t know what it was called, but surely that’s what she was experiencing. And it seemed as if Levi might be experiencing something similar.
She sighed and undressed, then pulled on her nightgown. The floor was cold, and she hurried to the bed, jumping into the covers. Then she sat up and looked over into the cradle where Emmy was resting. She was warm and toasty, wrapped in pink fleece and sleeping peacefully for
the time being. In a couple of hours she would be ready for a feed. And Tillie would check to see if Melvin was still awake. If he was, she would let him hold her, meet his daughter truly for the first time. The thought clenched her heart and made her stomach feel like it had fallen to her toes. She would have to explain why she didn’t call him right after she had the baby. Or even right after the roads had gotten clear enough for her to go home. But any excuse was just that: an excuse.
She watched the rise and fall of Emmy’s breath for a moment and lay down on her side, still facing the cradle. Could she do it? Could she go out into the English world alone with the baby to care for? Would she be able to get her job back? What would she do if she couldn’t? And the biggest question of all: where would she live? So many pressures. Too many.
She raised up and turned off the lantern. The room went dark. But the questions still remained.
* * *
“I can’t believe how tiny she is,” Melvin said the next morning as he held his daughter for the first time. He had been asleep when she had woken for her midnight feeding, and Tillie was loathe to wake him. Truth be known, it had more to do with all the questions she knew he was going to ask once he held Emmy. Tillie really wanted a little sleep before she got to all those. So she fed Emmy and placed her back into her cradle to hopefully finish the night.
Emmy was a good baby and slept a long while at a time. Four hours was her maximum. Getting up at four o’clock wasn’t too bad for Tillie. She had grown up Amish. The thing she hated was that it was dark outside, and it seemed to be forever before the sun rose. She and Gracie used to sit on the back porch and watch the colors in the sky changing from black to orange to pink and then gold and finally the beautiful blue.
“Her eyes are blue,” Melvin said in awe.
“All babies have blue eyes,” Tillie said.
“I hope they stay that color.”
She supposed that would be beautiful. Emmy had already started to favor her father, especially if she kept his blue eyes and the dark hair she was born with.
Tillie knew that most of it would fall out and grow back. The question was, would it grow back dark blond or Melvin’s raven-wing black? They would just have to wait and see. On the eyes too.
“Melvin, we have to talk soon.”
He looked from Emmy to her, his expression one of love that changed to remorse.
“I know. But not now. Maybe later.” It was Christmas Eve, and later there would be a lot of family ruckus as usual in a household their size.
It seemed as if Melvin dreaded working through their many problems as much as she did. Ignoring them wouldn’t make them go away, but he didn’t want to talk about such matters on Christmas Eve. Or Christmas Day. She couldn’t blame him.
“We have church tomorrow,” Tillie said. Christmas Day on church Sunday. It was a rare event. “We should talk before then.” If they were going to bend their knees and confess their sins, the quicker they did it, the better. And the quicker they could go about healing and forgiveness.
Melvin swallowed hard. “Tonight, then. We’ll talk tonight.”
* * *
He told himself he was a fool, even as he gathered up a few more baby things to take to Tillie and Emmy. And even more a fool for staying up late and making Christmas gifts for them, but he had done that too.
She was leaving, probably in just a couple of days, but he wanted to see her one last time. And Emmy. He would miss them both, so much.
And it was Christmas Eve. He wanted to see them on Christmas Eve.
He hitched up his buggy and headed toward the Gingeriches’. There was a definite chill in the air, mixed with the scent of woodsmoke. It smelled like Christmas. Suddenly he wished he could take her out for a sleigh ride. But sleighs could be quite tricky and needed a certain amount of snow. Too much and they wouldn’t go, too little and it was like dragging something behind the horse. The right amount, which was about the coverage when it snowed in Mississippi, was what was needed. But snow was rare, and it didn’t do to store a sleigh for the odd times when it happened. She would like that though, he knew. Tillie would like to go for a sleigh ride, and he would like to take her.
That will never be.
He might as well get it out of his head right now. He was going to visit them today, and that would be the end of it.
Last night should have been the end of it.
It should have, but he wanted to see her just one more time. He missed Mary and his own baby, but being stranded with Tillie and helping her deliver Emmy had created a bond that he hadn’t expected. One he had never even dreamed was possible. He pulled his coat a little tighter around him and his collar up a little bit higher over his nose and urged the horse to hurry just a bit.
Jah, he was cold. But every minute he spent in the buggy was a minute he didn’t get to spend with them.
Levi pulled his buggy down the drive that led to their house, past the little cabin, and on down into the valley.
Jim stuck his head out of the barn as Levi was hobbling his horse. Levi pointed toward the house so he would know that he was going inside. Jim gave him a wave of understanding and disappeared back into the workshop. Levi fetched the gifts out from the back of his carriage and made his way to the door. He was halfway up the porch steps when the front door opened and he saw Tillie standing there.
She looked frightened, like a scared rabbit cornered by a beagle. The look stopped him in his tracks.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
Tillie swallowed hard before answering. “Melvin is here.”
Levi felt like one of those blow-up yard things he had seen in the co-op, but with all the air let out. Deflated, defeated, useless.
It took him a moment to catch his breath, get his thoughts back in order. Melvin needed to be there, just like Levi had told Mims. Melvin needed to marry Tillie, whether they lived an Amish life or an English one. They needed to marry, provide a family, a mother and father for Emmy. There was no room for Levi in that picture.
He tried to smile. “Good, good,” he said. “It’s been a while.” Then he held up the bag of gifts that he had brought. “Merry Christmas,” he said.
Tillie looked behind her as if Melvin was going to appear there at any moment. Then she turned back to Levi. “Come in. Mamm’s got some coffee on and some of that cranberry bread you and Libby made. It really is good. You’re not a half-bad baker.”
“And you’re not a bad candy maker,” he returned with a smile. And suddenly everything felt a little easier between the two of them.
He followed her into the house, a bit leery of what he might find. Melvin was somewhere inside, or so he figured. Or maybe he was out visiting. If Levi remembered right, Melvin still had some cousin on the other side of town.
Tillie led him to the kitchen, and the mystery was solved. Melvin sat on the bench side of the kitchen table, a cup of coffee in front of him. Another sat across from him, and Levi figured that was Tillie’s spot. Somehow he knew; the setup had all the earmarks of a serious discussion. One that he had interrupted.
“I’m intruding,” he said. “I’ll just leave this here.” He put the sack at the end of the table, but Tillie shook her head.
“No, no. We have time for friends. Don’t we, Melvin?” The sentence made it seem more and more that they were a couple.
They were a couple. As much as he hated to admit it, and as much as he wanted to be part of her life—he would never be. Amish or English. It didn’t matter. The situation was hopeless. What a cheery thought for Christmas.
“Yeah,” Melvin said. “Sure.” He half stood and nodded toward the chair next to Tillie for Levi to sit. “It’s been a while.”
Hadn’t Levi just said those same words?
He slid into the place at the kitchen table and nodded uncomfortably while Tillie poured the coffee.
“So I hear you delivered my baby,” Melvin said.
Levi felt himself turn as red as the bows he had tied around the Christmas
presents he’d brought. Men just didn’t discuss such things. Then again, the sort of things they were discussing normally didn’t happen.
“Jah. It was just a matter of being there. I didn’t do anything special.” Though it had felt special at the time. And it would always be special to him. He’d just done what anyone would do. Tillie had done all the work.
“She seems pretty special to me,” Melvin said.
Levi didn’t know if he was talking about Tillie or Emmy.
Tillie returned from the stove and sat down next to Levi.
The air around them seemed to thicken. One cup of coffee and he would go. She had been hospitable enough to offer it to him, and it would sure help warm up his insides for the trip back home. He took a sip and reached for his sack. “There are a couple of baby things in here that I thought you might could use,” he said. “And a Christmas gift for you both.”
He wasn’t sure if they would be taken in the same spirit he was giving them. He could only hope and pray that they would.
“Danki,” she said. She accepted the flat package he handed her and the smaller rectangle one, then she placed them in front of her.
“Go ahead,” he said. “Open them.”
She picked up the smaller one.
“That one’s Emmy’s,” he said.
She tore off the plain green wrapping paper to reveal a box that came off the bottle of cough syrup. His trepidation doubled.
“I didn’t get you medication,” he said.
She popped the tape on the box and smiled at him. “I didn’t think you had.”
That sizzle of connection seemed to be there for a moment when their eyes met, then she looked away and it was gone. Perhaps he had just imagined it.
She pulled the tissue paper out of the box, bringing the present with it. Then she unfolded the paper and stared at the gift.
“It’s a pacifier holder,” he explained. “You clip it to her gown so she doesn’t lose her pacifier.” It was something he had been thinking about making for a long time now, but this was the first one he had ever actually fashioned. He had tooled the leather strap with tiny little flowers and figured he could use baseballs or puppies to have embellishments more fitting for boys.
