by Marta Perry
“Horses are herd animals, and he’s missing his herd. I just helped get him wanting to be a part of my herd.”
She looked unconvinced. “How can you possibly know what he wants? Honestly, Samuel, it’s as if you can read his mind.”
“Not his mind.” He smiled at the idea. “But since the horse can’t say what he’s thinking or feeling, you have to learn to read his movements and reactions to understand him.”
She thought that over, nodding slowly. “That’s exactly what a mother does with a baby. Those first weeks are so scary, because you haven’t a clue to what they want. And then, when you’re ready to tear your hair out, you realize you’ve figured out what every cry and every movement is saying.”
“It’s much the same, I’d say.” Her comments had set him wondering. “You had little Gracie from the time she was born?”
“Ja. Jannie never came out of the hospital after her birth.” Anna’s eyes clouded with the words. “She was able to hold the baby once, but that was all. Then she just slipped away from us.”
He’d never met Jannie, but he could picture the scene just the same. “I’m sorry for your loss. It must have been ser hard for you.”
“I loved her like she was my own sister. I guess I felt responsible for her, too, because she didn’t have anyone.”
Neither did you, Anna, he thought but didn’t say. “Couldn’t the doctors do anything for her?”
She shook her head. “They said Jannie might have lived a little longer if not for the stress of the pregnancy, but I know she never regretted having the baby.”
“And you’ve never regretted taking her, that’s clear.”
“Not for a minute.” Anna’s lips curved in the way they did whenever she mentioned Gracie. “Even when she kept me up all night when I had to go to work early. Even when she scared me half to death running a fever.”
What must it have been like for Anna, raised in a family and community that supported each member, to have dealt with such a life-changing experience all alone? He couldn’t imagine.
“Gracie is lucky to have you.”
Her eyes shone with unshed tears. “I’m the lucky one. She’s exactly what I wanted most in the world, but I never knew that until I held her in my arms.”
He hesitated. “Gracie’s birth father—he doesn’t want her at all?”
Tension tightened Anna’s mouth. “He signed the legal papers giving up all his rights to her months before she was born. He just walked away.”
The words set up an echo in Samuel’s heart. His father had walked away, too. He’d thought that once he found his father, maybe he could understand his leaving, but he hadn’t understood. He never would.
When he was growing up, folks had always said how much he was like his daadi. He’d thought then that nothing could be any better than that.
Anna was looking at him, maybe wondering why he was quiet for so long. Pain gripped his heart, and he tried to shove it away. Anna seemed to have the power to bring out all the thoughts and feelings he tried to forget, and for an instant that angered him.
“Did you want to see me about something?” The question was too sharp, honed by the unsettling memories of his father.
Anna blinked a little, her face tightening at his abrupt tone. She took a step back from the fence, as if she shouldn’t be there.
“It’s not urgent. I’ve put together a simple way for us to keep track of the income and expenses, that’s all. I’m sure you want to work with the horse now, so I’ll show it to you later.”
She turned, walking away with her head erect.
He’d upset her. They’d been talking like friends about something that was painful to her, and he’d cut her off as if he didn’t care. He didn’t like himself much at that moment.
But maybe her anger with him was all for the best. He couldn’t let Anna start to depend on him, because he didn’t trust himself enough for that.
This was right, he reminded himself firmly. So why did it make him feel so bad?
People were staring at them. Anna sat next to Myra in the waiting room at the medical clinic. She clasped her hands together in her lap, staring down at them, and willed herself not to mind.
She’d forgotten what it was like to be the object of that rude gawking. In the city, she’d been one of thousands of people, all busy with their own concerns, not so much as making eye contact with those they passed in the street.
Here, in these clothes, she was an object of curiosity. She’d always hated that. She hated it now.
She glanced at Myra and gave herself a mental kick. She should be comforting Myra at this moment, not absorbed in her own feelings.
She touched Myra’s sleeve. “Maybe it won’t be much longer.”
At least she didn’t have to be concerned that anyone else in the waiting room would understand the dialect. That was one advantage of their differences.
“Ja.” Myra grabbed her hand and clung. “This test—do you know anything about it?”
“Didn’t the doctor tell you what to expect?”
Myra shook her head. “He told us all the risks of the test, and that I should have it anyway.” Her fingers clutched and strained. “Anna, what if it hurts the baby?”
Anna wrapped the straining fingers in hers. “Listen, it’s going to be all right. I remember when my friend Jannie had to have so many different tests, and she came through them fine.”
“Did she have this amniocentesis?” Myra said the word carefully in English, there being no equivalent in Pennsylvania Dutch.
“Ja, she did.” Anna had gone straight to the computer on campus then and looked it up, so that she and Jannie would be ready. “Why did the doctor say you had to have this test? Was it because of something that showed up on a blood test?”
Myra nodded. “The doctor said so. He has many Amish patients, so he knows about the inherited diseases.”
That was one of the perils of being Amish. With most of the community descended from the same small group of ancestors, the chance of genetic abnormalities showing up was greater. Anna’s heart twisted as she thought of her own healthy child.
“What will they do to me?” Myra’s eyes clouded with worry.
“I’m sure the nurse will describe it to you.” It might have saved Myra some apprehension if the doctor had explained when he’d ordered the test. “They’ll do an ultrasound to see exactly where the baby is. Then the doctor will put in a long needle and take out a tiny amount of the fluid around the baby to test.”
Myra closed her eyes for a moment. Anna seemed to see Jannie, face pale, closing her eyes at the prospect of yet another test, trying to shut out the bad things.
“Denke,” Myra murmured, opening her eyes. “I feel better when I know what to expect.” She patted Anna’s hand and released it. “Let’s talk of something else.”
“All right. What?” She was willing to cooperate, although she suspected Myra wouldn’t be diverted so easily.
“Are you sure you are willing to take care of the books for the business?”
“It’s no trouble at all. I’m happy to help with the shop.”
Except for the fact that Samuel seemed to be avoiding her these days. He still hadn’t managed to find time to talk with her about the simple system she was trying to set up to keep track of expenses.
“You mustn’t take notice if Joseph fusses at you about it. He thinks no one can do it but him.”
“I won’t let Joseph worry me.”
As for Samuel—well, obviously he had been embarrassed by the foolish little surge of attraction between them. Maybe he’d thought she was growing too attached to him. Warmth came up in her cheeks at the thought.
“Something is wrong between you and Samuel,” Myra said, again seeming to read Anna’s thoughts.
Was she so transparent? Her first instinct was to deny it. “What makes you say that?”
Myra shook her head. “I know my brother too well. I can see what’s happening. He likes you, and
that makes him nervous.”
“It’s nothing—I mean, he doesn’t like me that way. We’re old friends, that’s all.”
Myra seemed to catch back a sigh. “He likes you,” she repeated. “I saw it, and I hoped . . . Well, I know I shouldn’t matchmake.”
“No, you shouldn’t.” Anna’s stomach twisted at the thought that people might have been talking about her and Samuel.
“He’s never been exactly outgoing with girls. Slow and steady, that’s our Samuel.” Myra’s smile had a tinge of sadness. “But after our daad left, it seemed like he turned inward. Mammi tried to get us to talk about it, but Samuel never would.”
“He was about sixteen, wasn’t he, when your daad jumped the fence?”
“Ja. We were all sad and hurt, but Samuel took it the hardest. He and Daadi were always so close, you see. Samuel just couldn’t understand it. He couldn’t talk about it, either.”
Anna remembered when Ezra Fisher left. The valley had buzzed with little else for a couple of weeks. It wasn’t unusual for a teenage boy to take off, but for a man in his forties with a wife and family—that was practically unheard of.
And then a few years later, Samuel had gone, too.
She hesitated, but the pressure to ask was too strong to ignore. “Was that why Samuel jumped the fence?”
Myra’s face clouded. “I don’t know, not for certain-sure. He never talks about it. But I think he wanted to find Daadi. To find out why he left.”
“Did he?”
Myra shrugged. “He doesn’t say. He came back when Mammi got so sick. He tries to act as if everything is the same as before, but it’s not. I just wish he could be happy again.”
Anna’s throat was tight, and she couldn’t seem to come up with anything reassuring to say. Whatever was going on with Samuel, it was all tied up with his father’s desertion. She couldn’t begin to understand him, but she knew enough to be sure that giving in to their mutual attraction would be a big mistake for both of them.
“Mrs. Beiler?” A nurse, clipboard in hand, looked inquiringly at them. “We’re ready for you now.”
Myra stood, her face white and set, and walked toward the woman.
Apprehension shivered through Anna, and she murmured a silent prayer as she followed them. If this was bad news, how would sweet, gentle Myra find the strength to cope with it?
Anna took a deep breath and slid down from Daad’s buggy, reaching up to take Gracie as Daad handed her down. Already, a boy in his early teens was running up to take the horse and buggy and lead them off—that would be his duty at the worship service this morning. The buggies would be parked in neat rows, while the horses were tethered in the shade, content to stand there for as long as it took.
If she could have found any excuse to avoid attending church this morning, she’d have grabbed it. She’d suggested that she stay home to take care of Joseph, allowing Myra to go to worship, but Myra wouldn’t hear of it.
Probably Myra was happy for some time alone with her family. She’d been unusually quiet in the two days since her amniocentesis, taking a nap Friday afternoon at Anna’s urging and spending most of yesterday making a new dress at the treadle sewing machine.
Worrying, most likely. Anna dropped a light kiss on Gracie’s forehead. Gracie smiled and patted her face in return.
The loving exchange heartened Anna. She glanced at her father. “I’ll join Leah, Daadi. We’ll be fine.”
At least, she hoped they would. Sitting with a baby through a three-hour worship service could be a challenge, to say nothing of the fact that this was her first appearance at church since she’d returned.
“I’ll walk over to her with you.” Daadi held out his hands to Gracie, and the baby lunged toward him, smiling, already delighted with her grossdaadi after such a short acquaintance.
Daad must know Anna was apprehensive. Carrying Gracie, walking with her to where the women assembled before the worship service . . . that was a gesture of his support. Some of the tension eased out of her.
The service today was being held at the Stoltzfus barn. During the week, the family would have spent hours sweeping and scrubbing until it was as clean as any church building.
Anna still had vivid memories of how much work that preparation had entailed when they hosted church at the farm. Mammi had enjoyed it, though, almost as if all the preparation was a part of worship.
The benches would have come by wagon from the last host family. They’d be arranged in rows in the barn, along with copies of the Ausbund, the hymnal, even though most people knew the hymns by heart.
The white barn gleamed in the September sunshine. Beyond it, in the hedgerow, spires of sumac had already turned color, looking like so many flames.
Men stood in quiet groups or shook hands soberly, their white shirts, black pants and vests, and straw hats setting them apart from the world. When the weather grew colder, they’d add black jackets, and the straw hats would give way to black felt.
Daadi marched across the stubble of grass toward where the women were gathering, grouping themselves by age. Fortunately, Anna would be seated with other young mothers who’d probably be sympathetic if Gracie started to fuss.
She hoped so, anyway.
Heads turned to watch them as they passed. Probably her cheeks were pink. She kept her gaze down, trying to ignore their interest. It would be a poor repayment for Daadi’s thoughtfulness if she gave in to the desire to glare at people.
Her story would have spread throughout the church district by now. Did they believe it? Or were they thinking, whispering, that Gracie was probably her out-of-wedlock child?
“Here is Leah.” Daadi greeted Leah and her little daughter, Rachel, before handing Gracie back to her, kissing the baby’s soft cheek as he did. “I will see you after worship.”
“Denke, Daadi,” Anna said, but he was already moving off toward the group of older men.
“Wilkom to worship.” Leah touched her sleeve lightly. “It’s gut that you are here.”
“Brave, don’t you think?” Anna lifted her eyebrows in a question.
“Ach, don’t say that,” Leah said. “Folks are just happy to see you back, that’s all.”
“I hope they’ll still be happy after they see how Gracie is during the service.”
Anna bounced the baby in her arms. She wiggled, reaching toward the ground, reminding Anna of how Samuel read the body language of the horse. Gracie was certainly making her wants known.
“You can let her down now, if you want,” Leah said, glancing down at her two-year-old, Rachel, who was busy pulling up blades of grass.
“If I do, I’m afraid she’ll scream when I pick her up again.”
Leah smiled. “We’ve all heard that before. If you need to bring her out during the service, Mary Stoltzfus has a bedroom ready on the ground floor for changing and feeding.”
“We’ll probably have to use it.”
The commonplace exchanges made Anna feel better. Leah was talking to her easily now, more like her old self again. Maybe all it would take to relax the constraint between them was time.
Leah had understood, at least a little, when she had left. Would Leah understand why Anna had come back?
Her mind backed away from that thought. She couldn’t tell Leah all of it, any more than she could tell anyone else. If the community knew that Gracie’s father was after her, what would they do?
She glanced at the sober faces around her, at the quaint, old-fashioned clothes, at the barn where they would worship. They wouldn’t understand. How could they? They didn’t have experience with anyone like Pete, and couldn’t envision the ugly underbelly of society where he lived. They might think that as Gracie’s father, he had a right to take her, no matter what papers he had signed. Even Daadi, with his innate fairness, might think that.
Anna’s arms tightened around Gracie, and she recognized the truth. She’d been thinking that Leah was putting barriers between them, but she was just as guilty of that herself.
>
Anna was the one who didn’t dare cross the boundaries. She couldn’t trust Leah or anyone else with the truth about Pete, because she didn’t know what they might do.
However she might wish it otherwise, the chasm between her and Leah could not be mended. Not now, at least, and maybe not ever.
CHAPTER NINE
Gracie slept on Anna’s lap, lulled into an early nap by the long, slow unison hymns that had opened the service. The first time Anna had attended an English service, a praise band had led the congregation in music so loud and fast that it had made her head spin.
She’d come to appreciate the lively songs in time, and now the long, slow, quavering notes of an Amish hymn sounded almost like bagpipe music. She patted the sleeping baby gently. Gracie appreciated Amish hymns, it seemed, just as she did buggy rides.
Next to Anna, Leah sat with her head bowed. On her lap, Rachel folded and refolded a handkerchief, totally absorbed in the task. For just an instant Anna could feel herself at that age, sitting on Mammi’s lap, doing the same thing.
On the other side of Leah her dearest friend, Rachel, for whom Leah’s daughter was named, sat with her little ones close to her side. Anna had been cautious, seeing Rachel again, knowing that if Leah had talked to anyone about her rebellious sister, it would be Rachel. But Rachel had greeted her with a smile and a kiss.
Anna had never been quite so content as the teenagers here seemed to be. She glanced toward the section of benches where teenage girls sat, their dark dresses neat, white aprons pinned over them, heads bowed. Behind all that conformity, someone must feel as restless and rebellious as she had at that age.
And now here she was again, not restless or rebellious, just out of place. She was as separated from everyone else here as she was from Leah.
She bit her lip, staring down at her shoes. Maybe she was wrong about Leah. Maybe she could trust Leah with her fears about Pete. And even if she didn’t, why did that have to keep them from being close? Everyone had secrets they didn’t want to share.
