[2016] The Precious Amish Baby

by Faith Crawford

  They took his fine carriage home. It was painted black with yellow trim. It looked new. The paint was not chipped or scratched; there were no dents in the wood. Inside she sat down on a comfortable cushion on one side, with her husband on the other. Husband, wife, these felt like such strange words. Like they should belong to someone else. Emma still wasn’t sure how she was supposed to be a wife.

  “How was your journey?” Dr. Barlow asked. “Are you feeling ill in any way?”

  “No, sir,” Emma replied. “The journey was long, but not unpleasant. There was much to see. It was very interesting.”

  “You needn’t call me sir,” he said. He was holding his hat in his hands, rotating it by the brim. “We are husband and wife now; you must call me Aiden.”

  She nodded and said, “You must call me Emma, then,” and he answered with a nod.

  “We’re here,” he said, as the carriage came to a stop.

  “Really?” Emma demanded, forgetting her manners in an instant. She stuck her head out of the window and looked up and down the street. They weren’t very far from the chapel at all. In fact, she could see the steeple above the row of buildings in front of them.

  “I hope you don’t mind being right in town like this. It can be a little loud sometimes, but it’s quite nice, I assure you.”

  “I love it,” she said, pulling her head back into the carriage and then opening the door and jumping out before the driver had time to help her. Dust kicked up around her black boots as she stared up at the palatial home. There was a short set of stairs leading to a lovely wrap-around porch. The rest of the house towered above her. It was three stories tall with large windows on every floor. Her clapboard childhood home was nothing compared to this.

  “The first floor is where my medical practice is located,” he said. “The rest of the house is for us.”

  The whole entire house for only the two of them and his son! It was impossible for her to imagine. At any time she had shared a room with at least three of her sisters. It was impossible to find a place to be alone and enjoy a moment’s peace.

  “Please,” he said, holding out his hand. She placed her gloved hand in his and together they walked up the stairs. He opened the front door and then the two of them walked up a flight of stairs to the second floor. Here he unlocked and opened another door.

  “Dad!” The yell echoed up and down the hall as a bright-eyed boy came rushing down the hallway, a harried maid following behind him.

  Emma smiled as Aiden picked up the running boy, throwing him into the air before dropping him gently down into the floor.

  “Emma, this is Cole.”

  “Hello, Cole,” Emma said, smiling down at the little boy. He reminded Emma of her brother Sammy, an apple-cheeked little boy with a mop of blond hair who was always smiling.

  “Hello, miss,” he said and then he seemed finished with her. Turning to his father he said, “Dad, can Marybeth take me to town to see the foals? Please, please, please. I’ll behave, I promise.”

  “If Marybeth doesn’t mind, then I’ll allow it. It would probably be best for Emma to familiarize herself with the house without you running around and bothering her. Alright, go ahead.”

  The boy raced off and the maid took a moment to curtsey before following him.

  “I only have two servants, Marybeth and the housekeeper Marie,” Aiden said. “They are both very excited to meet you.”

  Emma didn’t know what to say to that. Had she not married him then she would have ended up as a maid or a housekeeper, but instead she got to be the lady of the house. There was a chance that she would never have to cook or clean again. The thought was heart stopping.

  Emma turned and faced the doctor, unable to hide the huge smile on her face. She opened her mouth to speak, but just as she did a female voice came hollering up the stairs.

  “Dr. Barlow! Dr. Barlow!” A heavy-set woman, who looked to be in her fifties, came racing up the stairs, stopping short upon seeing the couple. “I’m sorry to shout,” she said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,ma’am, but I’m afraid we don’t havetime. There’s been an accident,” she said to Aiden. “A cart overturned with seven people aboard. Two are dead already.”

  “I’m sorry, but I must go,” he said to Emma.

  “Of course,” Emma responded.

  “I will try to be home as soon as possible. I’ll send word later tonight,” he said, as Marie handed him his bag and hat.

  “Be careful,” Emma called, as he hurried down the stairs.

  Chapter Three

  The driver brought her bags upstairs and left them in the hall. With a tip of his hat, he was gone. Once he passed, Marie hurried back up the stairs and, wiping her brow, she reached down for Emma’s bag.

  “Oh, I can get that,” Emma said quickly, but Marie only batted her hand away.

  “I’ll not have the rest of the town saying the doctor’s wife carries her own bags,” she said, picking the bag up easily and walking down the hallway. “It’ll ruin my reputation. I run a tight ship, everyone says. The doctor’s told me all about you, of course. I hear you come from a big family. I’m glad to hear that. The little one’s restless, always running about. Poor Marybeth’s liable to pull her hair out. He needs getting on with his reading and writing, but good luck getting him to sit still for more than a minute.”

  “Oh, I’m not worried about that. I’ve taught six of my siblings to read. I know how to make them sit still.” They walked down the long hallway and stopped at a large oak door. Marie turned the doorknob and Emma held her breath as it swung open.

  The master bedroom was huge; far larger than the bedroom she had shared with her sisters. There was a large four-poster bed in the middle of the room with heavy curtains hanging from the bars. A fireplace took up the opposite wall, and there were two wardrobes on either side of the bed. A small desk sat underneath one of two windows, covered with scattered papers and inkblots.

  She took a deep breath and then stepped inside. This would be her bedroom. That would be her marriage bed. She wasn’t afraid of it, exactly. Emma had grown up in a small house with a large family. She wasn’t completely unaware of what happened there. But she herself had never been touched by a man. She had kept herself pure, as God intended. But soon, all of that would change. She was married now. The rules were different.

  Marie opened the suitcase and took out the few items of clothing Emma owned.

  “It’s a rather scant wardrobe, I’m afraid,” Emma said, as she walked to the window and looked down to the busy street. Three African men were walking down the lane, each of them carrying several pelts over their shoulders. Emma was desperate to know where they were going with them.

  “Not to worry. I’ve already made an appointment with the dressmaker for later in the week. The doctor has given you a generous allowance for clothes. He’s a very kind man.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” Emma said. “Can we see the rest of the house?”

  “Of course. Here, I’ve made a copy of the keys for you.” Marie set a heavy ring of about six keys in Emma’s hands. “You are the lady of the house now.”

  Next to their bedroom was a fine sitting room with high-backed chairs, a few small writing tables and a view of the street behind them. Next to that was a dining room with a long, shining table that could expand to seat twenty and then there was the working kitchen. Upstairs was another small sitting room, Cole’s room and a small room shared by the two servants.

  “Oh, I’m afraid it’s dreadfully loud,” Marie said, as a cart went rattling down the street.

  Emma smiled but said nothing. This was heaven. There were no little brothers or sisters hanging off her. There was no washing up to be done, no dinner to prepare. She could go into any room she wanted and do anything she wanted.

  “Well, I’m going to the kitchen. Do you need anything, Mrs. Barlow?”

  She froze. It was the first time anyone had called her that. “No... thank you,” she stammered, and the housekeeper gav
e a short curtsey and walked out of the room. Emma was alone. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been in a room alone. She had always been able to find solitude in nature, but never in her house.

  A loud crash came from the street.

  “Ya bastard!” came a cry. Emma walked to the window and peered down. A man with a cart full of chattering chickens was yelling at a man leading a cart filled with some shiny rock.

  “You’re the bastard. I got the right o’ way!”

  They went on like for a while, each one blaming the other as Emma shamelessly gawked at them. It almost came to blows, but then the sheriff, an older, gruff-looking man, came and ordered the two men to go about their business.

  As he was leading them away a woman came to the house and to Emma’s surprise she walked up to the porch and knocked on the door. Emma pulled her head back through the window and headed towards the stairs. She was halfway down them when Marie came hurrying down, drying her hands on a dishtowel.

  Emma had completely forgotten that she had a housekeeper to answer the door. She pressed herself against the wall and let her past. The door opened to reveal a young woman wearing a faded red bonnet and matching dress. She looked harried and impatient. Her hair was falling out of her bonnet and she wiped her nose with the back of her hand.

  “Sorry, dear. The doctor isn’t in,” Marie said, as she started to close the door.

  “But I have an appointment!” the girl cried, holding the door open. “I’m only here to pick something up for my sister. If I return home without it, I’ll get a beating.”

  “What are you here to pick up?” Emma asked. She recognized the desperate sound in the girl’s voice. She had been that girl many times.

  “Just some prunes, that’s all. My sister’s six months along and she needs them.”

  “I’ll get them. You can go back upstairs, Marie,” Emma said. The housekeeper gave her a nod and left the two women alone.

  Emma quickly found the key to the doctor’s office and let herself in. Inside there was a long wooden slab for people to lie on and a few chairs. Behind a counter there was a large cabinet filled with powders and unguents. Farther back was an open door that led to a room with various sharp looking blades and needles.

  “There it is,” the girl said, pointing to a box with the words EVANS written across the side.

  “Let me check,” Emma said. She opened the box and,sure enough, there was a bag of sticky prunes inside. Next to the box was a ledger and she could see that the Evans family had paid for two months’ worth ahead of time. “Here you go,” Emma said, handing the box over and marking it in the ledger.

  “Thank you,” the girl said, with a quick curtsey. “Are you...are you the doctor's new wife?” she asked.

  “I am,” Emma answered, feeling a swell of pride.

  “My sisterwill be jealous. She had her heart set on the doctor. So did all of her friends.”

  “Your sister is pregnant,” Emma said.

  “Yeah, and her husband’s ugly as sin,” the girl replied. She looked for one long moment at Emma, as if appraising her, and then with another short curtsey turned on her heel and walked away.

  At five o’clock Aiden sent word that he was very sorry, but he would not be coming home. The carriage accident had left three people gravely ill and he could not in good conscious leave them.

  Emma tried to hide her disappointment, but Marie saw right through her act.

  “There, there, child,” she said, sweeping back Marie’s hair. “I know it’s difficult, but such is the life of a doctor’s wife. He has not chosen an easy profession that will leave him home every evening to dine with his wife. There will be many who fight for his time.”

  “I know,” Emma said, with a long sigh.

  For the first time in a long time, she ate a meal she had not prepared. Marie was a lovely cook, but Emma found sitting at the dinner table all alone boring and unpleasant. Cole had already eaten and been sent to bed. It was just Emma all by herself.

  She walked up to their shared bedroom all alone. She stripped down to her thin shift and crawled between the sheets. A fire had been lit for her and she pulled the hangings closed, burying herself in the warmth of the blankets. It had been warm during the day, but the night was freezing.

  She had never slept alone before. She thought it would be pleasant, but the truth was she missed her sisters. Even under the thick blankets she was shivering and she missed having someone to talk to. The house was loud at night, creaking and whining in the wind.

  The streets outside grew no less crowded at nightfall. It was filled with the sounds of drunken men fighting and the occasional shout of a bullet. Emma tossed and turned,acutely aware that the house had only three women and one child in it.

  Long after the fire had burnt down to embers she finally managed to fall into a deep and fitful sleep. As she closed her eyes she could still feel the rattle and sway of the train, and all night she dreamt that she was traveling through the dark, but she had no way of knowing where she was going.

  Chapter Four

  She woke early the next morning, and had only taken a few bites of her breakfast when there was a pounding on the door downstairs. Emma heard Marie hurry down the steps and then back up them. She came into the room out of breath and said, “Another one of Dr. Barlow’s patients. She says she’s here to pick up her tincture of morphine for her father.”

  Emma nodded and stood up. Gathering up her skirts, she hurried down the stairs and ushered the girl into the office. She saw the order for the morphine and measured out the correct amount in a small, glass container. The girl paid in small, crumpled bills and then hurried out.

  It was only moments later when a ragged-looking man hurried in.

  “Here to see the doc,” he said. His mouth drooped and his eyes were a sickly yellow. His faded and filthy clothes hung off his thin frame, and Emma had to resist the urge to gag when his smell hit her.

  The book below her showed only an appointment for the girl to pick up her tincture. After that was an expectant mother, but the doctor didn’t expect to see her until well after lunch.

  “There’s no appointment in the book,” she said.

  “Oh, me and the doc have got a spoken agreement,” the man said, walking into the room. “Just give me that bottle there. That’s mine.” He pointed to a large bottle of morphine, and Emma scoffed.

  “No,” she said firmly. “There’s no note in the books and I’m not giving all of that to you. Now get out or I’ll send for the sheriff.”

  “Now, now, missy-”

  “It’s Mrs. Barlow,” Emma snapped. “Now leave,” she came out from behind the counter and walked straight at the man. He stumbled and fell back. “Out!” she repeated, pointing to the door.

  With a filthy curse in her direction, he stomped out, but his smell lingered.

  She spent the afternoon watching Cole play in their small, Spartan backyard. He had a fine set of army men and took great delight in lining them up and then waging battle. He imitated the soldiers’ voices as the figures crashed together. When one fighter died he was given to Emma for safekeeping.

  It was pleasant to sit outside with a large glass of lemonade and watch Cole play. Caring for one child was far different than caring for several. She was able to give him her full attention and still have a few moments to think for herself. She could close her eyes and bask in the sunlight as the child played happily at her feet.

  The shadows were long when Dr. Barlow finally returned. He arrived looking dusty and tired. “Hello,” he said simply when he entered.

  “Hello,” Emma replied, taking his bag and his hat and walking with him to the bedroom.

  “I do apologize,” he said, running his hands through his thick hair. “I did not intend to be gone for such a long time. The crash was quite terrible, I’m afraid. But I imagine you being alone has also been quite terrible.”

  “Not at all,” Emma said, with a shake of her head, as she poured him a cool gla
ss of water. “It was quite pleasant. Cole and I got along well and I saw that two of your patients received their orders.”

  “Miss Sands and Miss Shelby,” the doctor said, putting his head in his hands. “I forgot all about them.”

  “You needn’t worry,” Emma said, taking off his coat and shaking it out. “I took care of them both.”

  “Miss Shelby had a bill due-”

  “And she paid it,” Emma said. “There was a filthy old man that came in begging for morphine-”

  “Martin,” he interrupted, shaking his head.

  “But I sent him on his way. Though his smell is probably still hanging around.”

  He chuckled and looked up at her. “You were thrown in the fire yesterday, left all on your own in this house, but you did not burn. The priest who wrote about you was right. You are very strong.”

  Emma blushed at the compliment and busied herself with setting out clean clothes for him.

  “I must wash up,” he said. He stood and began to unbutton his shirt, and Emma felt her heart pound. Her cheeks flushed even more and she stared at the ground as he slowly revealed his lean chest.

  “I’ll leave you, then,” she said, and with her head low she backed out of the room, closing the door behind her.

  Her cheeks were flaming and she felt out of breath. In that moment she had lost all of her nerve. She had cared for his son and seen to his patients, but the sight of him undressing sent her into a panic and she urgently felt the need to flee.

  She pressed a cool hand to her fevered cheek and shook her head at her own foolishness. She was his wife; she could not run every time he removed his shirt.

  “Is everything alright, ma’am?” Marie asked, as she came out of the drawing room.

  “Yes, everything is fine,” Emma said, standing straight.

  “Dinner's at seven,” Marie said, as she walked down the hallway.