A Simple Charity

by Rosalind Lauer

  “Meg is no bridezilla,” Zoey said. “If anything went wrong, she’d walk down the aisle in her midwife uniform. Jeans, cotton top, and down vest.”

  “I would not.” Meg nudged her sister on the shoulder as a tap sounded on the door.

  “Are you dressed?” Tate asked as the door swung open a few inches. “Meg? There’s someone here to see you.”

  Zoey made a shooing motion with her free hand. “Don’t let Jack in! He can’t see the gown before the wedding.”

  “It’s not Jack. It’s a … a Ms. Engles.”

  “Who?” Meg hoped that a laboring woman hadn’t dropped in on her, but she had no one by that name under her care.

  The door opened wide, revealing a polished young woman with flawless skin and hair the color of spun gold. “Actually, you don’t know me.” Ms. Engles scanned the room, taking in the three women. She quickly dismissed Zoey nursing on the couch, eyed Shandell a minute, and then latched on to Meg.

  “You’re Meg, right?” she asked, shifting her pose the way models do on the runway. Dressed in that short leather jacket and skinny jeans, she wouldn’t last twenty minutes out here in the Lancaster winter.

  “I am.” At a disadvantage in her scrapped-together gown, Meg lifted her chin. “What can I do for you?”

  “I’m Lisa Engles, Jack Woods’s fiancée. And I’ve come to ask you, politely, to back away from my guy.”

  32

  As she chased little Tom down the path, Fanny was glad that this week’s church was at Edna Lapp’s home. The wide lawn and trails into the orchards gave folks plenty of room to stretch out, and with her good friend so busy hosting, there would be little time for personal conversation. In the few hours she had spent with Edna, Fanny had felt too ashamed to speak of her mistake, but also guilty that she couldn’t trust in her friend. It was still hard to look folks in the eye, always afraid of what they had heard and what they were thinking of her.

  Tommy toddled over to a flowerpot with a small evergreen shrub in it, and Fanny hovered over him, smoothing down his shiny hair. “You’re going to want to leave that alone,” she said. “It’s prickly.”

  “Look at this one, working on Edna’s planter.” Rose Miller bent down and bussed Tommy on the chin. “He’s getting big, Fanny. Walking already?”

  “Ya, he keeps us on our toes. He’ll be one this month.” Fanny kept her eyes averted from Rose. This woman had shown her a world of kindness. When Tom passed, Rose and her husband, Ira, had managed everything for Fanny’s family, arranging meals and taking care of the household so that Fanny and her children could mourn Tom.

  “The years fly by us like a flock of birds. But look at you, skin pale as the moon. Are you feeling all right, Fanny?”

  “Nothing wrong with me,” Fanny answered, trying to sound cheerful.

  “Maybe it’s the black dress you’re wearing. Still in mourning? It’s been more than a year since Tom died, hasn’t it?”

  “Ya. About two weeks ago, on the anniversary of his death, our little family remembered him with prayers.” She told Rose how Elsie and Emma had both read from the Bible, and Will and Beth had sung “This Little Light of Mine, I’m Gonna Let It Shine,” which Tom used to sing with the little ones at bedtime. “Then we played a few rounds of Jenga, which Tom so enjoyed.”

  “That sounds like a fitting way to remember him.” She leaned down to Tommy. “It makes me sad that you never got to meet your father.”

  Grinning up at Rose, he offered her a fistful of mulch from Edna’s planter.

  “No, thank you, boy. You can give that back to the bush.” There was such a lighthearted lilt in Rose’s voice that Fanny felt encouraged to face her. When she did, she saw Zed’s eyes, warm and dark as molasses. Oh, how she wished she could sit with Rose over a cup of coffee and talk, really talk.

  “Fanny?” A woman’s voice called to her.

  Both Rose and Fanny turned to see Anna Beiler walking along the path gingerly. “If you two wander any farther out, they’ll put you to work in the orchard,” said Anna.

  Having come to appreciate the midwife’s wry sense of humor, Fanny smiled. “How’s your ankle, Anna?”

  “Doc Trueherz says it’s healed, but it starts acting up whenever there’s a snowstorm coming.”

  “Saves you a trip to the window, I guess,” Rose said, and the two older women shared a chuckle.

  “I’ve been looking for you everywhere, Fanny,” Anna said, a serious cast to her tone now. “We need to talk.”

  About the gossip. Anna had heard. She was disgraced.

  Fanny dropped to her knees behind her son to hide the distress that weighed her down.

  “It’s time to see if there’s any more coffee left,” Rose said, heading back toward the house.

  “There’s something I think you need to know.”

  Anna’s hand rested on Fanny’s shoulder, probably because Fanny was still on her knees, and Anna wanted to maintain her balance. Still, the motherly touch stirred Fanny’s emotions.

  “Being laid up in a cast has given me plenty of time to think, and I can see that the life of a midwife takes more get-up-and-go than I have inside me. I’ve already cut down my schedule a lot, but I’m going to be sending all the women to the birth center from now on. I’m through.”

  “Oh, dear, no.” Fanny rose to face Anna, taking her hand. “We need you at the center, Anna. Please don’t leave us.” Fanny had counted on working with Anna, partly to gain acceptance from the Amish community. “Doc Trueherz thought it was a good plan, and the center is close enough that you can even walk, now that your ankle is healed.”

  “Ya, it’s nice and close. But these old bones can’t take the cold and the long hours of waiting on mamms. You’ve got that English midwife, ya? And Doc is happy to come to the center. You’ll be fine on your own.”

  Thoughts raced through Fanny’s mind like a blizzard wind. So it was about the gossip. Anna was separating from her because of Fanny’s bad reputation. “Is it … is it something I’ve done?”

  Of course it is. Dorcas’s cruel words pounded in her head as if they were being punched into a batch of dough. Caught kissing a man when you’ve barely said good-bye to your husband.

  Anna’s stern face softened as she blinked up at Fanny in surprise. “Nothing you’ve done, honeygirl. I can’t do it anymore. Seventy-four and my legs and back are so sore, you’d think I’d been kicked by a mule. Doc says it’s time I got off my feet, time to get some regular sleep.”

  “Ya, your health is important. It’s just that … I don’t know what we’ll do without you.”

  “You’ll do fine,” Anna insisted. “Women love the place already, and you’ve been getting more and more experience.”

  Although Fanny was relieved that Anna had not turned against her because of the rumors, the prospect of running the center without Anna’s help was frightening. Sure, Doc Trueherz and Meg would be on call to do most of the deliveries, but with her family to care for, Fanny could not handle being the only Amish midwife in town. And the chores at the center—the cooking and cleaning, not to mention sanitizing blankets and sheets in the oven—it was too much for one woman to manage.

  “Please,” she asked Anna, “won’t you reconsider?”

  “The Bible says, ‘To every thing there is a season,’ and my time as a midwife has run its course.” Anna patted Fanny on the arm. “Don’t fret, honeygirl. Gott will provide. Have faith.”

  33

  Meg stared at the bold, beautiful woman who had made the trip out here from Philadelphia. The ex-fiancée, “ex” being the important part of that word. Meg had to hold on to that fact to stay on solid ground. “Why are you here?”

  “I came to ask you a favor, woman to woman.” Lisa pressed her hands together in prayer position and held them to her heart. “Would you please back off and give Jack and me a chance?”

  Meg smoothed down her dress as she took in the elegant woman with earnest eyes. If nothing else, Lisa deserved an acting award. She
had a knack for stealing the show.

  But none of this was real, was it? Was this some psychotic episode that Lisa was having—or simply a master manipulation to end Jack’s happiness?

  “See, I’ve had a change of heart. I’m ready to make a go of it with Jack, gonna give it the old one hundred percent. Jack is thrilled, of course. Couldn’t be happier. But you know how he is—such a marshmallow. He doesn’t have the heart to tell you that it’s over.”

  “Really.” Meg wasn’t buying any of it, but she wasn’t going to argue with Lisa. There would be no coin toss or arm-wrestling tournament to see who won the boyfriend. This was not a competition for Jack’s affection; Meg was secure in her relationship with him.

  Lisa was moving through the room now, checking it out as if she was a potential buyer. Zoey pulled a receiving blanket over Grace’s head, as if to protect the baby from a wandering menace. Meg didn’t blame her.

  “I’m hoping you’ll be as gracious as Jack says you are. That you’ll back off. Give us time to heal our relationship.”

  “You know what? I’m going to talk to Jack about this, and I’m sure we’ll work it all out.” Meg crossed her arms over the smooth bodice of her gown and stepped between Lisa and the other women in the room. “But right now, I think you should go.”

  “You’re right. Jack’s waiting for me.” Lisa went to the door, then turned back to eye Meg. “That’s quite a dress you’re wearing.”

  Aware that she was being mocked, Meg simply nodded, her mouth a grim line as she followed Lisa out into the hall. She watched Lisa exit, and then bolted the big front door behind her.

  “What was that about?” Shandell asked from the hallway.

  Meg held up her hands. “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.”

  She grabbed her cell phone from the sitting room, but of course, Jack didn’t answer. “He’s at work. Murphy’s Law.” She shot him a series of texts.

  “You know,” she said as she was texting, “after he stops apologizing, Jack’s going to find this whole incident rather amusing.”

  “Ya think?” Zoey asked.

  “Yeah, one day we’ll probably laugh about it.”

  “But right now … not so funny.”

  “So … do you want to finish with the dress fitting?” Shandell asked.

  Meg held out her arms. “Absolutely.”

  An hour later, Shandell had fitted the sleeves and pinned up the hem. Then she headed over to her mother’s apartment for their Sunday visit.

  Having changed back into her jeans and a sweater, Meg collapsed on the couch beside Zoey and checked her cell phone. No messages, and the ringer was working. “Where are you, Jack?”

  “I have to say, you took that very well today. If Tate’s ex had stormed in like that, I don’t know what I would have done. But I’d have been mighty tempted to throw something. Like pie. A dirty diaper. A candelabra. Anything handy.”

  “Zoey, the woman is not well.”

  “I know, but she’s a button pusher. Just saying.”

  “Honestly? I’m a little sick inside. Maybe it was wrong to rush into this with Jack. We haven’t even known each other a year.”

  “Oh, no, no. Don’t let her do that to you,” Zoey insisted. “Don’t let her shake your faith in Jack. You know I’ve been a little wary of your rush to the altar, but that one has changed my mind. I know you and Jack are a forever couple.”

  “Unless Lisa has her way.”

  “Lisa, schmisa. I know you’re upset, but just give Jack a chance to explain things. There are two sides to every story.”

  As Meg went out to the kitchen to make a cup of tea, she thought of calling Kat. Jack’s sister was probably well versed on the Lisa story. But that seemed petty, calling her fiancé’s sister for relationship advice.

  Leaning on the kitchen counter, Meg broke down and called the police dispatcher. Trying to keep it casual, she told Cindy that she was trying to get in touch with Jack. “Would you have him call me?”

  “Jack took the day off,” Cindy said. “He said he had a family emergency.”

  Meg felt the bottom drop out from her safe world.

  “Is everything okay?” Cindy asked.

  “Sure. Fine,” Meg said, thanking the woman.

  Ignoring the hollow feeling inside, Meg sat down on the sofa beside her sister, who was napping in front of the television, the baby monitor blinking on the end table beside her. An old Christmas movie about a homeless man who moved in to an empty Fifth Avenue mansion was on, and for a few minutes Meg managed to lose herself in the heartwarming story. When the cops came into the mansion, she thought of Jack in uniform, and she remembered the day they had spent working on the holiday food drive. He was a good man, Jack Woods. A helper, not a cheater.

  She was settling into the cushions with her feet on the sofa when a big boom rocked the house. From the rattling window glass and the vibration of the furniture, Meg thought of an earthquake at first.

  “What was that?” Zoey shot up, instantly awake. “Where’s Grace?” She grabbed the monitor, but found that the baby was silent.

  Meg was already at the window. “I think it was an explosion.”

  “Did you hear that?” Tate called, appearing at the door. “I think it came from down the lane.”

  Zoey trudged toward her husband. “I’m going to check the baby.”

  “I just did. She’s fine. I’m going to head outside and check it out.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  Meg and Tate threw on coats and boots and trudged down the lane toward a rising plume of black smoke.

  “It looks like it might be coming from Fanny’s house,” Meg said, her words puffs of mist in the cooling air.

  “Maybe it’s just burning leaves or a bonfire out of control,” Tate said. “It happens sometimes.”

  But as they rounded the house next to the Lapps’ and the dense black cloud came into view, Meg began to run. It was the old carriage house that had caught fire, their little clinic that had already welcomed a handful of babies into the world. Orange flames danced in the upstairs windows, wicking into charred black smoke that engulfed the roof. She ran past a handful of bystanders, rushed up as close as she could get before the wall of heat made her skid to a stop. This couldn’t be happening!

  “I reached the fire department,” Tate called to her. “Two trucks are on their way.”

  He tried to tug Meg back, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the hungry orange flames and billowing smoke. Their beloved center was burning.

  34

  Although most folks had finished eating, the tables in the Lapp barn were still occupied and every corner was filled with groups of men or women gathered to chat and share a story or two. Over at the dessert table, Fanny rested Tommy on one hip as she surveyed the sweets. She and Elsie were about to share one of the last gmay cookies when Fanny noticed some folks at the door pointing her way.

  An English woman stood there, framed by the light of the doorway.

  “Is that Meg?” Fanny asked, handing Elsie the entire cookie.

  As Elsie turned toward the door, Meg strode toward them. Her red hair swung wildly over her shoulders and her mouth was a grim slash. Why was Meg here, looking so frazzled? Even in the most complicated deliveries, Meg managed to remain cool as a cucumber.

  “Something’s gone wrong,” Fanny said aloud as Meg reached them.

  “It’s the birthing center.” Meg clutched Fanny’s arm. “There’s been an explosion, and the building caught fire.”

  Stung by alarm, Fanny fought the sick feeling in her belly. “Oh, Meg, no!”

  Elsie’s hand flew to cover her mouth, as folks around them surged closer.

  “We’ll all go,” said a man’s voice. “Kumm. Let’s hitch up the buggies.”

  “I’ll give you a ride, Fanny,” Meg offered. “It’ll be faster.”

  Fanny handed Tommy to Elsie and hurried out with Meg, grabbing Caleb on the way. He took the front seat beside Meg while Fan
ny settled in a fog in the back. Cold fear clutched at her, making her shiver. The clinic was empty, thank the good Lord!

  “Your neighbor Marta told me you’d be at the orchard.” Meg kept her eyes ahead as the car seemed to fly down the roadway. Snow mounds and farms and fences whizzed past them.

  “Was anyone hurt?” Fanny asked.

  “No. It’s a blessing that none of our mothers were in labor. And Marta’s son was able to look inside before the heat and smoke were too bad. He said it was all clear.”

  “That’s very good news,” Caleb said.

  “Ya,” Fanny said with a confidence she didn’t feel. “If no one was hurt, then it’s only wood and nails. Nothing that can’t be replaced.”

  “We’ll try to stop the fire before it does too much damage,” Caleb said, turning to Fanny. “We might be able to save your center.”

  “And the fire department might be there already,” added Meg. “Tate called them as soon as we saw the fire.”

  The sight that greeted them at the end of the lane stole Fanny’s breath away. The old building seemed to have a different life now, with eyes of flame in the upstairs windows and a toothy look below where the fire had sprung through, burning the three solid carriage house doors.

  Any hope of saving the building drained away the moment Fanny saw it engulfed in flames and black smoke. Even the steady stream of water from the fire truck seemed powerless against the hungry fire.

  Somehow, the fire chief found them in the commotion of assembling folk. The tall man wearing the bright green coat and black helmet introduced himself as George Katcher, the fire chief. His voice was gruff, but his eyes were kind as he confirmed Fanny’s fears. “When more than a quarter of the roof is in flames, we know we can’t save the structure.” He paused to turn back to the ball of fire and smoke behind them, then faced them with a frown. “I’m sorry. We’ve already hosed down the roof of your house and the nearby trees to prevent the fire from spreading. We’ll stay on the site until the fire is out.”