by Amy Clipston
Mamm prattled on about the weather and how busy the bakery had been. Sarah grunted in agreement to give the appearance of listening.
After climbing the steps, Sarah and Mamm headed in through the back door of the building. The sweet aroma of freshly baked bread filled Sarah’s senses while the Pennsylvania Dietsch chatter of her sisters swirled around her.
The large open kitchen had plain white walls, and in keeping with their tradition, there was no electricity. The lights were gas powered, as were the row of ovens. The long counter included their tools—plain pans and ordinary knives and cutlery.
Even though the air outside was cool, Sarah and her sisters still did the bulk of the baking in the early morning in order to keep the kitchen heat to a minimum. Five fans running through the power inverters gave a gentle breeze. However, the kitchen was warm.
Nodding a greeting to her sisters, Sarah washed her hands before pulling out ingredients to begin mixing a batch of her favorite sugar cookies. She engrossed herself in the task and shut out the conversations around her.
“How are you?” Lindsay, her sister-in-law’s young niece, asked after a while.
“Gut,” Sarah said, forcing a smile. “How are you today?”
“Gut, danki.” The fourteen-year-old smiled, her ivory complexion glowing. Although she’d been raised by non-Amish parents, Lindsay had adjusted well to the lifestyle since coming to live with Rebecca, Sarah’s sister-in-law. Her parents had died in a car accident, leaving custody of her and her older sister to Rebecca. Lindsay quickly adopted the Amish dress and was learning the Pennsylvania Dietsch language as if she’d been born into the community.
Lindsay tilted her head in question and wrinkled her freckled nose. “You don’t look gut, Aenti Sarah. Is everything okay?”
“I’m fine, but danki.” Sarah stirred the anise cookie batter and wracked her brain for something to change the subject. “You and Rebecca got here early this morning, no?”
“Ya.” Lindsay began cutting out cookies. “Aenti Rebecca was having some tummy problems this morning.” She gestured toward her stomach, and Sarah knew the girl was referring to morning sickness. “She was up early, and I was too. So we just headed out. We had a couple of loaves of bread in the oven before Aenti Beth Anne and Aenti Kathryn got here.”
Sarah glanced across the kitchen to where Mamm was whispering to Beth Anne and Kathryn, Sarah’s older sisters. When her mother’s gaze met Sarah’s, her mother quickly looked away.
Sarah’s stomach churned. She hoped her mother wasn’t talking about her again. She was in no mood for another well-meaning lecture from her sisters. They were constantly insisting Sarah must accept Peter’s death and concentrate on the blessing of her pregnancy. Over and over they told her it was God’s will Peter had perished and the Lord would provide for her and her baby.
What did they know about loss? They both had their husbands and children, living and healthy.
“I best go check on the kinner on the playground,” Lindsay said, wiping her hands on her apron.
Sarah picked up the cookie cutter. “I’ll finish cutting out your cookies.”
“Danki.” Smiling, Lindsay crossed the kitchen and disappeared out the back door toward the playground set up for Sarah’s young nieces and nephews.
“Sarah,” a voice behind her said. “How are you today? Mamm mentioned that you had a rough night.”
Sarah glanced over at Beth Anne and swallowed a groan. “I’m fine, danki. And you?” I wish you all would stop worrying about me.
Beth Anne’s blue eyes mirrored her disbelief, and Sarah braced herself for the coming lecture.
“You can talk to me. I’ll always listen.” Her older sister squeezed her hand.
“I appreciate that, but there’s nothing to say. I didn’t get much sleep last night, but I’m gut. Really.” Sarah turned back to her cookies in the hopes Beth Anne would return to work and leave her alone with her thoughts.
“I know you’re hurting,” Beth Anne began, moving closer and lowering her voice. “However, you must let Peter’s memory rest in peace. You need your strength for your boppli.”
Sarah gritted her teeth and took a deep breath, trying in vain to curb her rising aggravation. Facing her sister, she narrowed her eyes. “I know you mean well, but you can’t possibly know what I’m thinking or what I’m feeling. I lost my husband, and you have no idea how that feels. I know I need to let go, but how can I when Peter’s boppli is growing inside me? Grieving is different for everyone, and it can’t be rushed.”
Beth Anne’s expression softened. “I just want what’s best for you.”
“Then leave me alone and let me work.” Sarah faced the counter. “I have a lot of cookies to make. We sold out yesterday.”
“If you need to talk, I’m here.” Beth Anne’s voice was soft.
“Ya. Danki.” Sarah closed her eyes and prayed for strength to make it through the day.
Late that afternoon, Sarah lay on the cool, metal table at the hospital and stared at the monitor while a young woman moved her instrument through the gel spread on Sarah’s midsection.
Sarah watched the screen and sucked in a breath while the ultrasound technician pointed out anatomy. Sarah wondered how many years of schooling it had taken for the young woman to figure out which was the spinal cord and which was the heart when it all resembled a bunch of squiggly lines.
Miranda Coleman, Sarah’s midwife, interrupted the technician and moved over to the monitor. “Do you see that?” Miranda asked the young woman in a hushed whisper. “I believe that’s…”
“Yeah, you’re right,” the technician said with a grin. “I think so.”
“This is something.” Miranda folded her arms and shook her head. “Well, that explains her sudden weight gain.”
“What?” Sarah started to sit up, her heart racing with worry. “What’s wrong with my boppli?”
Her eyes full of concern, Mamm squeezed Sarah’s shoulder.
Miranda chuckled. “Nothing’s wrong, Sarah.”
Sarah held her breath and wished Peter was by her side to help her shoulder the news. “Please tell me what’s going on.”
“Sarah Troyer, you’re doubly blessed,” Miranda said with a smirk. “You’re having twins. I guess one was blocking the other when we did the last ultrasound.”
“Zwillingbopplin?” Sarah gasped. Lightheaded, she put her hand to her forehead.
How would she ever raise twins alone?
Later that evening, Sarah stood on the porch and studied the rain falling in sheets on the fields across from her parents’ farmhouse. Rubbing her swollen abdomen, she swallowed the sorrow surging through her.
Zwillingbopplin.
The word had haunted her since it left Miranda’s lips. Sarah had tuned out Miranda’s voice while she discussed Sarah’s prenatal care for the remainder of the pregnancy. She’d heard the midwife say Sarah was now “high risk” and would be referred to an obstetrician for further care. Beyond that, Sarah had just stared at her midwife and pondered the news.
Twin babies.
Two mouths to feed. Two babies for which to care.
Two children without a father.
How would Sarah bear the load? Of course, her family would help her, for it was the Amish way to care for one another. However, raising two children without Peter would be daunting, regardless of help from the extended family.
“Sarah Rose.” Her mother’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “How are you?”
“Gut,” Sarah whispered, still rubbing her belly.
“Zwillingbopplin.” Mamm shook her head. “The Lord is gut. You are blessed.”
“Am I?” Sarah snorted. The shock seemed to have deflated the blessing from the news.
“Why do you say that?” Mamm’s eyes probed Sarah’s. “Bopplin are a blessing. Daniel and Rebecca have waited fifteen years to have one of their own.”
Sarah touched Mamm’s warm hand. “Ya, I know bopplin are a blessing. You forget Daniel a
nd Rebecca have each other.” She gazed down at her stomach. “I’m alone. These bopplin will have no dat. They only have me.”
“You’re not alone. You have your dat, me, and the rest of our family. The community will take care of you. We’ll all love and care for you and your kinner.”
“But it’s not the same.” Sniffing, Sarah wiped a lone tear. “They’ll know love but not their dat’s love.”
“You can tell them how much Peter loved them. We have many stories that will make them smile, and you’ll smile again too.” Leaning over, Mamm looped her arm around Sarah’s shoulders. “You’ll find joy again, Sarah Rose. God will make sure of that.”
Nodding, Sarah wiped her eyes and cleared her throat in an effort to suppress her tears. She had to hold herself together. Dissolving into sobs wouldn’t help the situation.
“When the time is right,” Mamm began, “you may marry again.”
“I doubt that.” Sarah shook her head with emphasis. “I don’t think I’ll ever love any man as much as I loved Peter. That only happens once in a lifetime.”
“Sarah Rose.” Mamm took Sarah’s hands again. “You’re young. You may love again. Give your burdens up to God, and He’ll see you through. Right now, just concentrate on your kinner. It will all come in time, God’s time.”
Sarah breathed deeply, hoping to stop the emotions that threatened. “Maybe someday, but not anytime soon. My heart still belongs to Peter.” She stepped toward the door. “I’m going to go to bed. Good night.”
“Good night.” Mamm reached for Sarah’s hand. “Don’t rush yourself, Sarah Rose. God will see you through this. He’s in control.”
Sarah pulled her hand back and opened the screen door. “Ya,” she whispered. “Good night.”
Climbing the stairs to her room, Sarah closed the door and lowered herself down onto her bed, hoping to keep the world out. Lying there, she prayed for her family to stop nagging her. She needed room to breathe and figure out her way without their constant unsolicited opinions. She needed strength and guidance to make the right decisions for her twins.
As she moved her gaze to the ceiling, she let go of her breath and finally allowed her tears to flow, her sobs cutting through the painful silence of her bedroom. She opened her heart to God, begging Him to raise Peter as He raised Lazarus. If He’d done it once, why couldn’t He do it again for Sarah, enabling her twins to have the father they needed and deserved?
She wiped her face with a trembling hand and closed her eyes. Why was she forced to live this lonely life? Didn’t she deserve to be blessed with a loving husband and father to her children, like her sisters?
She tried to open her heart to God and beg again for guidance and patience, but her prayers jammed in her throat. Like so many nights in the past five months, she cried herself to sleep.
2
How was your appointment?” Kathryn asked while standing at the counter with Sarah the following morning.
“Gut.” Sarah nodded and turned her attention to straightening the containers of baked goods before her.
“Just gut?” Kathryn moved closer to her. “Is that all?”
Hearing the rustling of skirts, Sarah turned to find Beth Anne and Rebecca standing behind her. Sarah wondered if her mother had already broken the news of her twins. Feeling as though she were backed into a corner, Sarah narrowed her eyes with the suspicion that they were pouncing on her like the stray cats she often found wrestling each other in the barns.
“How was your appointment, Sarah Rose?” Beth Anne asked, folding her arms in front of her apron.
“We hope it was gut news.” Rebecca smiled.
“Zwillingbopplin,” Sarah whispered, self-consciously rubbing her belly.
Her sisters and Rebecca shrieked, pulling her close for a group hug and cooing about how blessed Sarah was. Sarah closed her eyes and wished she could find the joy her sisters felt. She prayed the cold, foreboding feeling currently enveloping her would loosen its grasp on her soul.
The bell signaling a customer’s entrance into the bakery ended the group hug.
“This is wonderful gut, Sarah.” Beth Anne’s grin was wide as she stepped back toward the kitchen. “We must talk more when the shop is quiet.”
“Ya.” Sarah forced a smile. “Danki.”
“I’m so happy for you.” Rebecca gave Sarah one last squeeze. “Let me know if you need to talk,” she whispered in her ear before heading into the kitchen.
“You don’t look as happy as you should,” Kathryn said under her breath in Pennsylvania Dietsch as a customer perused the containers of pastries lining the long counter in front of them.
“It’s a shock,” Sarah said.
“But it seems like something more. What’s weighing on your mind?” her oldest sister asked.
“I don’t think we should speak of it now,” Sarah said, gritting her teeth with annoyance.
Kathryn jammed her hands onto her hips. “They can’t understand us, Sarah Rose. They’re English.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Sarah faced her sister and lowered her eyes. “I’m still processing the news. I’m having zwillingbopplin, and my husband is gone.”
“May I please pay for these?” the English woman asked with an unsure smile.
“Of course, ma’am.” Sarah scurried from behind the bakery counter and over to the register by the door. She felt her sister’s judgmental stare while she rang up the pastries and took the woman’s money.
When the sale was complete, Sarah busied herself with arranging the items at the cashier’s station. Feeling watched again, she glanced up to find her older sister studying her.
“You can talk to me,” Kathryn said, her expression warming. “I know you’re scared, but you must remember your family will see you through this.” Kathryn took Sarah’s hand in hers. “We love you, Sarah Rose, and we’ll help you and the kinner.”
Sarah’s eyes filled with tears. “Danki.” She hoped she wouldn’t cry, not here in public.
“Excuse me, miss?” an English voice asked. “Do you have more whoopie pies?”
Saved by the Englisher! Sarah blew out a sigh of relief. While Kathryn helped the English woman, Sarah lost herself in organizing the postcard rack in an attempt to calm her anxiety.
Sarah sipped a glass of cool water while gazing out over the field to where her nieces and nephews played at her parents’ house.
Mamm squeezed Sarah’s hand. “Before you know it, your kinner will be out there too.”
“Ya.” Sarah touched her stomach and forced a smile. “Soon they will.”
The clip-clop of a horse and crunch of buggy wheels on the drive stole Sarah’s attention from her mother. “Who could that be?” she asked as the buggy headed for Dat’s barn.
“I think we have a visitor.” Standing, Mamm patted Sarah’s hand. “I’ll get some iced tea.” She stepped toward the door.
Glancing toward the barn, Sarah spotted Norman Zook chatting with her father and her brothers, and she smiled. Norman, who had lost his wife in childbirth a couple of years ago, had become a dear friend since she’d lost Peter. He seemed to be the only person in her church district who truly understood her grief.
Despite her protruding belly, she popped up to her feet and followed her mother through the door to the kitchen where they joined Beth Anne and Kathryn. It was only proper to have dessert when a guest visited.
“Mamm, do we still have some chocolate-chip cookies or cake left?”
“We have cookies.” Mamm reached for a plate of cookies on the counter. “Let me put some on a tray for you.”
“You have a visitor?” Beth Anne asked.
“Ya, Norman’s here.” Sarah lifted the tray of cookies.
“He’s a gut man,” Kathryn said with a smile.
“Ya,” Beth Anne chimed in, coming to stand beside Kathryn. “He’s a good dat too.”
Sarah nodded. “He is, but we’re just friends.”
“Of course you are,” Mamm agreed, p
ulled two glasses from the cabinet. “You two have a lot in common.”
“It’s gut to have a friend who understands,” Rebecca said.
A slam yanked Sarah’s attention to her brother, Daniel, standing with Norman by the back door. Norman’s lips formed a tentative smile as his gaze met hers.
“Norman!” Mamm padded over to the widower. “It’s wunderbaar gut to see you. Would you like to have a glass of iced tea on the porch?”
“Danki.” Norman nodded. “That would be nice, Elizabeth.” His eyes turned to Sarah. “How are you?”
“Gut.” She held up the tray. “I hope you like chocolate-chip cookies.”
“My favorite.” He smiled.
Norman followed Daniel through the back door to the porch while Mamm grabbed the two glasses of iced tea from the counter. Sarah followed her out to the porch, where Norman sat on a chair next to the swing. His brown eyes met hers and then darted to the field where his children ran around, shrieking and playing with her nieces and nephews.
Sarah placed the tray of cookies on the small table in front of them and gingerly lowered herself into the swing.
“Here’s some fresh-brewed iced tea,” Mamm said, handing a glass to Norman. “Would you like a whoopie pie too? We have plenty left from the bakery. We always bring some leftovers home for the kinner to enjoy.”
“No, danki.” Smiling, Norman rested his hand on his abdomen. “We had a large dinner. I couldn’t eat another crumb.”
They sat in silence for a few moments, sipping their drinks, and Sarah relaxed. She appreciated their comfortable friendship. It was nice to not have someone telling her to let go of her grief. Norman understood her better than anyone, including her well-meaning family members.
“It’s a beautiful evening,” he said, breaking the silence.
“Ya. Beautiful. How was your day?” Sarah watched the youngest of Norman’s four children, Gretchen and Marian, chase her nieces, and she wondered how the two girls were faring without their mother. Her chin trembled at the thought of children without a mother to cuddle and kiss them. His children were as needy without a mother as hers would be without their father.
