“So I got dressed,” Meg told her sister. “With all-wheel and studded tires, I figured I could make it. I drove out to Deedee Collier’s place at the end of a dirt road that was like an Olympic luge run. It was treacherous. Even my Subaru was slip-sliding around. But I made it—only to find complications. Deedee was semiconscious; her vitals were weak. The baby was breech, and the fetal heart rate was slow. There’s no way of knowing how long it had been that way, but it’s a sign of fetal distress. She needed a C-section. I called 911 again, and was told it would be at least two hours. That was going to be too late, so I went to bring my car closer to the house, figuring that Nora and I could load Deedee into the backseat and I’d drive her there myself. But I slipped on the porch steps and fell hard on the ice. So hard that I saw stars and blacked out for a moment. Such a terrible night.” Meg told her sister that no state allowed a midwife to perform a cesarean, with good reason, and that had been what Deedee needed. With tears dripping down her cheeks, Meg had worked to keep the mother alive while the baby slipped away, a light gone dark before it had a chance to shine in the world.
“The ambulance didn’t arrive until after sunrise. They transported Deedee to the hospital for a C-section. The baby was stillborn.”
“That’s pretty different from the story that aired on the news,” Zoey said. “They made it sound like you were a home-birth fanatic, that you and Deedee had made a pact to refuse help from any outside sources.”
Meg shrugged and pushed off the bed. “The media puts their own spin on stories.” She dropped the T-shirt into her open suitcase and added her hairbrush to her cosmetics case.
“So you didn’t do anything wrong. You’ve always said that every birth plan has an emergency option—a way to get to a hospital or a doctor. It’s not your fault that Deedee Collier wasn’t prepared for the worst.”
“It’s not. But as a medical professional, I’m held to a different standard. The board needs to make sure that I’m not a rogue midwife with an inflated view of her skills.”
“Why don’t you get the facts out there?” Zoey asked. “The true story.”
“It’s not my place to divulge a client’s information. Besides, I’m under investigation, and Ms. Collier keeps threatening a lawsuit.”
“It sounds to me like that woman doesn’t have a chance. She had no prenatal care, and you did call for help. Even the neighbor called for help. What is wrong with those damned reporters? They just give people like Deedee Collier fuel for the fire.”
“Collier probably wouldn’t win a lawsuit. She has a history of diabetes and alcohol abuse. But even when she backs down, after the investigation is resolved and I’m cleared, the real tragedy is that a baby didn’t make it.”
“You’re right. That’s the sad part.” With a deep breath, Zoey leaned back on the pillows and pressed one palm to her belly. “So why the sudden rush to get back to Pittsburgh? I thought you were going to stick around here until things blow over back home.”
“That was my plan, and it’s tempting, but today I realized that I’m wasting my talents in the kitchen. You know that Bible verse about letting your light shine? It may sound corny, but when I’m delivering a baby, that’s when I’m shining. God blessed me with the understanding and instinct and skill to do it well. If that’s where he wants me to be, then I figure I’d better clear up this mess and get back to my calling.”
“Can’t you let it be for a few more weeks?” Zoey asked. “You’ve got nowhere else that you have to be right now, and Tate and I need the help. I need a cook right now, and down the road, I’m going to need a midwife.”
This time, her sister’s comment tweaked Meg’s attention. “Zoey?” She looked down at her sister, reclining on the bed, and suddenly it was clear. “Are you pregnant?”
“It’s about time you figured that out. Why do you think I’ve been downing all that milk and doing all this nesting, decorating every room in this inn?”
“That’s wonderful. The best news ever!” Meg wedged beside her sister on the bed to give her a hug. “Ohmigosh!” she squeaked.
“I know, I know, I know!” Zoey shrieked in response as she rocked her sister back and forth. As Meg leaned back, Zoey pulled her smock tight over her belly. “And you couldn’t tell? I’m eight weeks along. Haven’t popped yet.”
“I thought you were just dressing more modestly to match the look of the Amish inn. And you and Tate were going to wait. You said you wanted to get the business set up first.”
“The doctor warned us that waiting was a bad idea, especially with my endometriosis.”
“I know how that is.” Meg and her sister suffered from the same condition, a disorder that could hinder conception.
“When the doctor told us that it was now or maybe never, we thought we should throw out the long-term plan and get going. So …” Zoey patted her belly. “Are you sure baby Jordan can’t convince you to stay on?”
Meg put her hand over her sister’s and looked into her eyes. “I’m so happy for you, Zoey, but I gotta go now.”
Delivering the King baby had opened a window to the future. Now she knew what she had to do. No more sitting in a dark room, and no more hiding in her sister’s kitchen. It was time to fight back; time to press her case and persist until she got justice. She was sorry for Deedee Collier and her infant, but sometimes doctors and nurses lost patients through no fault of their own.
It was time to face the music … time to take her life back.
“But I’ll be back in plenty of time to help with baby Jordan,” she promised her sister. “Just take your vitamins, keep up with your prenatal care, and start reading. Call me if you have any questions about anything.”
“You know I will.” Zoey went to the closet and tugged Meg’s two summer dresses from their hangers. “Don’t forget these.”
“Right. My vast collection of dresses. I’m going to need them when I meet with the nursing board.” Meg strapped down the clothes in her suitcase and zipped it shut. “If I forgot anything, I’ll be back for it. When are you due?”
“January.”
“Then I’ll be back before Christmas.” That meant that Meg wouldn’t be able to take on many new clients in Pittsburgh if she got her license back; she would want a clear schedule so that she could commit herself to being with her sister. “That’ll be a real vacation for me. In the meantime, I’ve got some great books to loan you.”
“I’ve already got a slew of maternity books on my nightstand, and I’ve been seeing Dr. Trueherz. Everyone here loves him.”
“Well, I hope he has a better GPS than the doctor on call today.”
Zoey kissed her sister’s cheek and patted her shoulder. “I’m not worried. I’ve got an expert midwife in the family.”
Her words brought tears to Meg’s eyes. What would she do without her sister?
Promising to return in December to be by Zoey’s side, Meg packed up her car and headed back home to mend her broken life.
8
After a few days of rain, it felt good to be out in the yard, soaking up fresh air and sunshine. Zed had moved his worktable outside the carriage house, and Fanny smiled as she walked by on the way to the garden. He’d been working here a week now, and yet somehow it seemed as if he’d been here for months, measuring and sawing and hammering, working steadily around them.
Morning coffee was a pleasure with Zed, who brought a measure of calm to the noisy, bustling kitchen. He was quick to pick up Tommy when he was fussing or to set Will straight when the boy taunted his little sister. In the shelter of the Lapp home, Zed showed himself to be thoughtful, smart, and strong. Not at all the painfully quiet man folks talked about! She had worried about having an outsider in their home every day, but Fanny found that she was glad to have Zed here, and it was clear that he felt right at home with them.
Bent over the workbench, Zed pumped the saw with steady strokes. She saw determination and strength tempered by a simple peace. Whatever turbulence had sent him off into the E
nglish world had been long resolved, that much she knew. Lots of folk were curious about why Zed had left their community and what he’d done out there, but not Fanny. She was interested in what had drawn him home again: the love for Gott and his family, the desire to live simply in Gott’s footsteps.
She waited as he cut through a plank until the end piece dropped away.
“Will you be having lunch with us?” she asked. “There are tomato and cheese sandwiches and a salad from the garden.”
“That sounds delicious.” He blew the wood dust away, then rubbed the edge with his fingers, testing it. “I brought a cooler, but let me know and I’ll join you. I’ll never turn down something fresh from the garden.”
She nodded at the wood. “Now where will that fit in the big jigsaw puzzle?”
His dark eyes softened as he held up the board. “What do you think?”
“I think I’m better at assembling jigsaw puzzles that sit on the kitchen table. Putting together a whole house? Not so much.”
“But it’s just one piece at a time, the same as your puzzle. Step by step. It’s easy as making a cake. You just follow your recipe.”
Fanny glanced up toward the roof of the carriage house. “That is quite a large cake you’re working on, and I never had to saw and hammer to make a cake rise.”
With a gentle smile, he tucked the wood plank under one arm. “Kumm. I’ll show you where this fits in.”
The piece of wood was part of the new frame for one of the windows, which Zed planned to install the next day.
“It will be nice to have new windows,” she said. “There’s something sad about windows that are all boarded up. Like missing teeth. The building had a crooked smile.”
There was amusement in his eyes. “In a few days your carriage house will be smiling again.” He fitted the board snugly into the opening, hammering it into place.
I could stand here and watch all morning, Fanny thought. It was a wonder, the way things took shape under Zed’s hands. Gray, soft chips fell away. A simple board was pared into shape and hammered into place, forming a clean, new window frame. He was quick to clear away the rotten wood and wise enough to know what to leave alone. She wanted to linger, to watch, but chores wouldn’t get done on their own.
“We’ll eat in an hour or so,” she told him, heading off to check on the children. Fanny paused at the edge of the garden to watch Will and Beth lean close to tug on a tall weed that had insinuated itself in the center of their tomato patch. The rains that had kept them out of the garden the past few days had nurtured more than the vegetables.
“Did you loosen the soil?” Fanny called. “That’ll help it come out more easily.”
“I can get it,” Will insisted, clenching his teeth as he gave another pull.
“It’s stubborn, Mamm,” Beth announced.
“Sometimes they don’t want to let go.” Fanny glanced over at the garden tools Will had fetched from the shed. “Where’s the spade, Will? The one you like to use?”
Will shrugged. “It’s gone, Mamm. I think a robber stole it.”
“A robber?” Fanny pointed a shovel at the base of the green shoot and stepped on it with her sneakered foot. The blade of the shovel sank into the soil. “Now why would a robber take our garden spade?”
“Because he’s a thief,” said Will. “That’s what he does. He takes things.”
“Mmm. And why would he take the spade and leave everything else in the shed?” Fanny asked as she wiggled the shovel to loosen the weed.
“I don’t know.” Will shook his head. “I guess he needed to do some digging.”
Will’s story was quite creative, but the boy needed to know that it was a sin to lie. She had never come across this problem with Caleb or the older girls. Will was an unusual flower in the garden, to say the least. Sometimes she worried that he misbehaved out of grief over his dat. She understood the sorrow, but she had to teach her son to handle it in an honest way. Fanny kept quiet as she pulled out the shovel and watched the children descend on the weed and remove it with a final tug.
“Got it!” Will held it up proudly.
“I got it, too,” Beth said.
“It’s nothing to fight about. There are plenty more weeds to pull, though none quite as tall as that one.” She set Will to the task of weed pulling and gave Beth a basket to collect the fat tomatoes that had fallen from the vine in the storm. Some were still green, but they could be pickled or sliced, breaded, and fried for a tart and tasty dish. The hour passed quickly and the children gleefully carried buckets of weeds to the compost bins on their way back to the house.
After everyone washed up, they brought the lunch things out to the little green table in the shade by the box hedge. During the meal, Fanny brought up the subject of the missing spade, and Will repeated his story about how a robber had stolen it from the shed.
Zed held a sandwich aloft and studied Will with thoughtful eyes, though he reserved comment.
“That would be such a shame. It was your favorite garden tool,” Fanny said as she poured Zed more lemonade. Will had often pointed out how the small spade fit his hand just right. In fact, last time they gardened she had let him use the spade to play farmer, with the promise that he would return it to the shed by the end of the day.
“I know.” Will looked down at his paper plate. “I feel sad.”
“Well, if someone else needed that spade so much that he stole it, then Gott bless him.” Zed spoke in a quiet voice, without accusation. “I hope he uses it to grow some food to fill his belly.”
Will’s lower lip jutted out as he nodded.
The matter of the missing spade was dropped until the next morning, when Zed appeared at the door, hands behind his back.
“Good morning,” Fanny said, looking up from the counter where she was cutting up leftover chicken for a salad. “Would you like coffee?”
“A cup would be nice.” Zed remained in the doorway, looking over at the table where Will and Beth were finishing bowls of cereal. Tommy raised his hands from the tray of his highchair and gurgled a greeting.
Zed touched the baby’s cheek, then turned to the children at the table. “Funny thing happened this morning. I was walking around the back of the carriage house when I found this on the ground.” He held up the spade. Its blade was now orange with rust from sitting in the rain.
Handing Zed a mug, Fanny noticed that Will’s face had turned a rosy shade of pink. “That looks like our spade,” she said. “Doesn’t it, Will?”
The boy crumpled over the table. “It is our spade. I left it out in the rain, and now it’s all rusty. I’m sorry, Mamm.”
“But what about the robber?” Beth asked.
“There was no robber.” Fanny’s gaze remained steady on her son.
“I made that part up, because I knew it was my fault the spade got ruined. I was supposed to put it away.”
“That’s right,” Fanny said. “And now you understand why it’s a sin to lie.”
Will stared into his cereal bowl. “It made my tummy ache. And after I made up one story, I had to keep lying so you wouldn’t find out what I did.”
“My mamm used to tell me that one lie brings the next,” Fanny said.
“And now the spade is ruined,” Will said sadly.
“Maybe not.” Fanny took the hand shovel from Zed. “You see how this part is covered with rust? The rust eats away at the metal. If we don’t get the rust off, it will weaken the blade until one day, it will break. But there’s a way to fix it.” She handed it over to her son. “That will be your chore.”
“How do I do it?”
“White vinegar,” Zed said. “The metal part needs to soak overnight. Then you’ll take a wire brush to it. Go on out and get a bucket and I’ll show you.”
Will dropped down from the table, gripping the spade. Then, like a gust of wind, he blew out of the kitchen. Through the kitchen window, Fanny saw him running toward the shed.
“He got out of here fast,” Zed obs
erved.
“Probably trying to stay ahead of a punishment.” Fanny turned to Zed, grateful for his calming presence. “Thank you. With you showing him how to fix the spade, I think the lesson will stick better.”
“I’m happy to do it.” Zed picked a cherry tomato from the salad and popped it in his mouth. “There’s nothing like a garden tomato.”
She nodded, still concerned about Will. “Sometimes I wonder if Will misbehaves to get extra attention. He never got into trouble before his dat died.”
“That may be true. Or he might just be a normal boy who gets into mischief. If it is about missing Tom, there’s really no way of explaining things to Will, is there?”
She leaned over Tommy to kiss the top of his head. “That’s true. None of us understands Gott’s plan.”
“He’ll be fine.” Zed drank down the last of his coffee. “This home has taught him much about love. He’ll figure out the importance of honesty, too. Now …” He put his mug in the sink. “Do you have any white vinegar?”
As Fanny fetched the vinegar, she realized what a blessing it was to have Zed here for Will’s sake. There was so much a boy needed to learn from a man, and Zed was a willing teacher. They were all benefiting from Zed’s many acts of charity. Gott worked in wondrous ways.
PART TWO
Into the Crossroads
Verily, verily, I say unto you,
That ye shall weep and lament,
but the world shall rejoice:
and ye shall be sorrowful,
but your sorrow shall be turned into joy.
—JOHN 16:20
9
There was contentment in the rhythm of quilting. Fanny let her hand pause a moment as she gazed fondly over the other women, their white-capped heads bent over the quilt. A cloak of peace had fallen over the garden at the Stoltzfus house, where a quilting bee was in progress. The charity quilt had already been completed, and Lovina had started the women on a second project. Pressing the needle through in short, regular stitches, Fanny looked across the table and noticed Anna Beiler watching her. A curious smile pinched the older woman’s face.
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