by Marta Perry
Aunt Emma emerged from the living room, brushing a strand of graying hair back under her kapp. “What . . . Sarah! What are you doing here today, child?” She rushed across the kitchen to envelop Sarah in a satisfying hug.
Sarah held on for a moment longer than necessary, blinking back tears. It was like hugging her mammi again, gone now nearly five years.
Aunt Emma pulled back, beaming, and patted Sarah’s cheek. “Ser gut to see you. But you weren’t coming until tomorrow.”
“Today,” she corrected gently.
Aunt Emma turned toward the calendar pinned to the kitchen wall, its photo of kittens in a basket the only picture in the room, of course. “Thursday, that’s what you told me. See, I have it marked.”
“Thursday.” Her heart sank, and she would not look at Aaron to see his expression. “Today is Thursday.”
“It is?” Aunt Emma’s round cheeks paled. “Ach, I can’t believe I made such a mistake. What will you think of me? Imagine you coming in on the bus and no one there to meet you.”
“I’m fine.” She hugged Aunt Emma again, wanting to wipe that expression from her face. “Aaron gave me a ride, so it all worked out.”
“Aaron, that is ser gut of you.” She seemed to notice Aaron for the first time, standing by the door with Sarah’s bags in his hands. “Denke, denke.”
“It makes no trouble.” He set the bags down. “I’d best get along home.” He nodded to Sarah. “Wilkom to Pleasant Valley, Sarah.”
“Denke, Aaron.” His words had sounded welcoming. But some shadow in his voice didn’t.
Enough, she told herself as Aaron went out. What Aaron Miller thought of her presence didn’t matter in the least. She was here now, ready to leave the past behind and begin her new life.
But even as she said the words to herself, she knew it wasn’t her own reassurance she needed. It was Aunt Emma’s.
“Komm, take your coat and bonnet off and warm up.” Aunt Emma was already at the stove, putting a kettle on. “Sit, talk. You must be hungry after that long journey. It won’t take a minute to hot up some beef vegetable soup.”
“That sounds gut.” And her stomach did seem to be flapping against her backbone about now. Maybe that was why she was letting doubts creep into her mind.
“How did you happen to find Aaron?”
Aunt Emma cut slices off a crusty loaf of bread, her movements sure. She sounded more like herself every moment, and the memory of the stricken look on her face when she’d realized she’d forgotten the day began to fade.
“He was picking up something for his business, I think, that had come in on the bus. He tells me the boys are working with him now. And that Molly is married and expecting a boppli.”
“Ja.” Aunt Emma turned, her face filled with the same joy Sarah felt at the news. “Imagine little Molly old enough to have kinder of her own.”
“Not so little, surely. She’s only a year or two younger than I am.”
“That’s so.” Aunt Emma stirred the soup. “I didn’t know how Aaron and the boys would get along without her when she married, especially since she’s clear out in Indiana. But Aaron takes care of everything, just as he always did.”
“What about his daad?” she inquired.
Aunt Emma shook her head. “Such a sad story. Poor man always did have a weakness for drink. Time and again the bishop and the ministers would try to get help for him, but ...” She let that trail off. “He passed away two years ago. The young ones were fortunate to have a big brother like Aaron, that’s certain sure. Their grandmother helped out as best she could, but she was never all that strong, so it fell on Aaron.”
“It’s odd Aaron never married. I’d think he’d want a woman’s help with the younger ones.”
Aunt Emma set bowls of steaming soup on the table and fetched the bread. “Folks always thought that, but Aaron never seemed to consider it. Maybe he felt the responsibility was his alone.”
Sarah nodded, mulling over the idea. It fit with her impression of the man. Aunt Emma sat across from her, bowing her head for the silent prayer before eating.
Thank you, Father, for this new beginning.
Once Emma raised her head again, Sarah broke off a piece of bread and picked up her spoon. The first mouthful of soup sent warmth through her, chasing away what remained of her doubts.
“Wonderful gut soup.” She smiled at her aunt. “I’ve been so eager to get here to see you.”
“Ach, I feel the same.” Aunt Emma reached across the table to clasp her hand. “I never thought to say this, but it gets lonely here in the evenings by myself. Maybe Jonas is right.”
When she didn’t continue, Sarah lifted her eyebrows. Jonas was her cousin, the oldest of Aunt Emma’s three sons and the only one still living in Pleasant Valley. A gut man, but a little bossy.
“What might Jonas be right about?”
“Thinking I should move in with him and Mary, and sell this place.”
The words shocked Sarah so that for a moment she couldn’t speak. In all Aunt Emma’s letters this possibility hadn’t even been hinted at.
“But they live clear over near Fostertown. How would you tend to your patients from that far away? And what about your plans to build an addition for birthing rooms, so women can have their babies here if they want? I thought you’d started work on it back in the spring. It must be about done, ain’t so?”
Something in Aunt Emma’s expression warned her. Sarah stood, walked to the door that should lead to the new addition, and opened it. And stared, her heart sinking.
The foundation was completed—Aunt Emma had written about that. And the walls roughed out. But otherwise, it was just an empty, unfinished space.
Sarah turned, closing the door, feeling as if she were closing the door on her hopes. “Aunt Emma, what happened? You said it would be all ready by the time I arrived.”
Aunt Emma drew back, lips pursing. “I thought it would. But Jonas felt it was a waste of money. He insists it’s time for me to stop working so hard and just take it easy.”
“But that’s what we planned.” Sarah was drowning in a tide of dismay. “What we talked about. That we’d be in practice together, working together the way we always wanted to.”
“Ach, do you think I don’t know that? It’s what I always wanted, too. And I certain sure don’t want to disappoint you.”
Sarah took a steadying breath, trying to drown out all the voices that had insisted she was being foolish and headstrong to make this move to Pleasant Valley.
“Don’t worry about me.” It took an effort to say the words. “Or about what Jonas thinks. What do you want, Aunt Emma?”
Her aunt drew herself up, a flash of her usual determination in her face. “I want to go on delivering babies, just like always. I want to go ahead with the birthing rooms.” She glanced toward the door. “Still, Jonas . . .”
She let that trail off, and Sarah thought she understood. Jonas was making difficulties about the money it would cost to finish the addition.
But Sarah had the answer to that, didn’t she? If she really was committed to this move, maybe she had to be willing to take a risk.
She sat next to her aunt, clasping Emma’s work-worn hand where it lay on the table. “Let me pay for the rest of the addition.” She tightened her fingers when Aunt Emma seemed about to protest. “That’s only fair. After all, if I’m going into practice with you, I should invest something, and I have the money from the sale of our share of the farm.”
For a moment she could feel Aunt Emma’s resistance. Then, slowly, it faded.
“You would do that?”
The money was all she had. But what was it for, if not to invest in her future?
“Nothing would make me happier.”
Tears shimmered in Aunt Emma’s faded hazel eyes, but her grasp was firm. “We will do it, then.”
“We will do it,” Sarah echoed. Come what may, she was committed now. There was no turning back.
Aaron walked into
the carpentry shop, carrying the package he’d picked up at the bus station when he’d run into Sarah Mast.
Nathan looked up from the workbench where he was sanding a cabinet door. “Something wrong? You look like a thunderstorm.”
“Nothing. Here’s the new knobs for Mrs. Donohue’s cabinets.” He set the package on the workbench. “Maybe now we can get that job finished.”
Nathan grinned. “If she doesn’t change her mind again.”
“Easier to work for Amish than Englisch.” Aaron slit the tape on the box, checking to be sure the knobs were the ones they’d agreed on. “An Amish woman wouldn’t be so worried about having the latest fashion in cabinet knobs. A knob’s a knob, isn’t it?”
Nathan shrugged. “She’s the customer.”
“She is.” He shouldn’t be taking his ill-humor out on Nathan, of all people. And his mood had little enough to do with Mrs. Donohue, with her constant chopping and changing. It was Sarah Mast’s arrival that had him annoyed, and that was the truth of the matter.
He smoothed his hand down the cabinet door Nathan was working on, appreciating the fine grain of the wood they’d chosen. Then he glanced around the shop. “Where’s Benjamin?”
“He saw you drive on by. I guess he thought that meant we were done for the day.”
“That boy thinks anything is an excuse to quit work.”
“He’s not yet sixteen.” Nathan’s tone was indulgent. “A boy’s mind is on everything but work at that age.”
“Listen to you, sounding like a long-bearded elder.”
Aaron clapped Nathan’s shoulder, regaining some of his good humor. Nathan tended to take things as he found them, which made him a gut partner in the business. As for Benjamin—
Well, maybe Nathan was right, and the boy just needed to do a bit of growing up. But Nathan hadn’t been so heedless at that age, and as for himself . . . well, he’d never had the chance to be that way with the younger ones to take care of.
Nathan smoothed a cloth over the door. “So, are you going to tell me what you were doing over at Emma Stoltzfus’s place?”
“When I got to the bus station, I found Sarah Mast waiting there for a ride. You remember her? Emma’s niece from Holmes County?”
Nathan looked thoughtful. “Can’t say I remember her, but I knew Emma had kin there. So you brought her to Emma’s.”
“Ja.” Aaron frowned. “It seems Emma forgot this was the day Sarah was coming and hadn’t sent anyone to meet her.”
“Lucky for her you happened to be there today. This niece came by herself?”
He nodded. “She’s a widow.”
He seemed to see Sarah the way he’d seen her in that first moment, standing alone, an isolated figure in black, out of place among the Englisch who brushed heedlessly past or stared at her with curiosity. And to see the smile that lit her green eyes when she thought he’d come to fetch her.
“So this Sarah’s come for a visit to her aunt?”
Nathan sounded interested. Not surprising. The Amish of Pleasant Valley, Pennsylvania, were a little isolated themselves, living far from the heavily Amish areas like Lancaster County and Holmes County. A newcomer was always of interest.
“That’s what I supposed.” He felt the tension grip his jaw again. “But she says she’s a midwife, come to join her aunt in her practice.”
Nathan lifted an eyebrow. “I thought Jonas said his mother was closing down the midwife practice and moving in with them.”
“It looks like Jonas was wrong.” Or maybe Sarah was wrong, in which case she’d had a long trip for nothing.
“I guess you think that’s too bad.”
“It’s nothing to me.” He avoided looking at his brother. Whatever he felt about midwives . . . well, he was entitled to his opinion, but to share it smacked of speaking ill of a member of his congregation, and he would not do that.
“You’ve met this niece before, ain’t so?” Nathan was obviously not done with the subject.
“She was here for a summer a while back. Maybe six or seven years ago.”
If someone had asked him yesterday, he’d have had trouble recalling that fact. Now an image of the girl she’d been popped into his head, as clear as if it had been a week ago. She’d come to a singing with his sister, the two girls laughing and talking together as if they’d known each other forever.
That was their Molly, open and warm, quick to laugh, with a determined glint in her eyes when she thought he was being too bossy with her or the boys.
Next to her, Sarah had been quiet, even a little shy, but with a warm sparkle in her green eyes that reminded him of a stream bubbling over moss-covered rocks, and a reddish tint to her brown hair.
That glow was gone now. The Sarah he’d met today looked as if she’d been through some difficult times. Her oval face was thinner, and the eyes held wariness as well as maturity.
Well, not so surprising. She’d known sorrow all right, with her young husband dying that way. An accident of some sort, he thought, though if he’d heard the details, they’d been forgotten.
Nathan set the cabinet door upright and held one of the knobs against it to see how it looked. “Not bad. Maybe Mrs. Donohue was right.”
“Maybe. I’ll be glad to get the job finished.”
“What do we have coming up next?”
Nathan was shaping up to be a fine carpenter, but he seemed to have little interest in the other side of the business—getting the work, keeping the records, paying the taxes.
“Nothing pressing. Bishop Mose was talking about having some new shelves put up in the harness shop, but that won’t take long.”
Business always slowed down this time of year, but this year seemed slower than usual.
Nathan shrugged, unperturbed. “Something will turn up.”
The door rattled, letting in Benjamin and a blast of chilly air. The boy was sprouting out of his coat, it seemed, his sleeves showing bony wrists and the big hands he hadn’t quite grown into yet. But he was closing in on them. He looked like Mammi, with those clear blue eyes and corn-silk hair, but he was going to have Daad’s height.
Worry tightened inside Aaron. As long as that was all the boy inherited from their father.
“Where have you been?” The words came out a bit more sharply than he’d intended.
“Just took a little break.” Benjamin was instantly defensive. “Nothing wrong with that, is there?”
Aaron forced his face to relax into a smile. He kept praying God would give him more patience with the boy, but he had to do his part.
“No, nothing wrong.” He nodded toward the bundle clutched in Benjamin’s hand. “Anything interesting in the mail?”
Benjamin grinned suddenly, looking about six again. “A letter from Molly. That interesting enough?”
“Molly?” Nathan grabbed for it, but Benjamin held it teasingly out of reach. “Komm, give it.”
“Wouldn’t you like to know what she says?” Benjamin ducked behind the workbench, grinning.
“Grab him, Aaron.” Nathan dove toward his brother, and Aaron joined him in wrestling their little brother for the precious letter.
When Aaron stood, running a hand through his hair a couple of minutes later, whatever remained of his ill-humor had vanished. “What would Molly say if she caught us wrestling in the shop?”
“Stop that, you boys,” Benjamin piped in a silly treble. “Read it, Aaron.” He hoisted himself onto the worktable.
Aaron ripped the envelope open, scanning the pages quickly. “She says she’s well, and Jacob has been busy with work. She says—”
Nathan took advantage of his stopping to snatch the letter from him. “You’re too slow. She says . . . ach, listen to this. ‘Jacob’s work crew is going out to Wisconsin on a job. I don’t want to stay here by myself, so tell Benjamin to get out of my old room. I’m coming home to Pleasant Valley to have the boppli.’ ”
Nathan waved the letter, grinning. “Molly’s coming home!”
Joy f
looded Aaron’s heart. His little sister would be with them again.
To give birth to her baby. He sobered. One thing was certain. If he had anything to say about it, Molly wouldn’t be going to a midwife to have this baby.
CHAPTER TWO
Sarah walked slowly around the outside of the addition to Aunt Emma’s house, wrapping her shawl around her against the cool air. The late-November sunshine was weak in comparison to the chill, but it carried a welcome warmth. She tipped her face back, enjoying the touch of the sun on her skin, feeling as if she were waking from a long sleep.
Maybe she had been asleep, in a way . . . the sudden blow of Levi’s death had been followed by what seemed a long period of inertia, when she’d been unable to move in any direction.
With Sarah’s own mother gone, Aunt Emma, in the form of her constant letters, had carried Sarah through that time. Her proposal that Sarah come to share her practice had been the prod she needed to wake up. To seek a new direction—a new life.
Now that new life was starting, and if her arrival here had contained a bit of disappointment—Aunt Emma’s failure to send someone to pick her up, the discovery that the birthing rooms weren’t finished—at least she was here and ready to move forward.
The birthing rooms were a simple matter, ain’t so? She’d talk to Aunt Emma about getting the carpenter back to work again.
She turned, glancing toward Aaron Miller’s shop and house. Had he done the work? She’d have to find out.
She couldn’t see the house from here, not with the stand of trees in the way. But a plume of smoke drifted above the woods, marking the place.
A pasture stretched from Aunt Emma’s house toward the trees, fenced in for her buggy horse. The animal lifted its head to stare at Sarah when she moved, then dropped it again to crop at the browning grass. A few trees dotted the pasture, to provide shade in the summer, and a pond eliminated the need to carry water. Everything about Aunt Emma’s place was as neat and tidy as ever—no doubt Jonas saw to that.
“Sarah?” Aunt Emma called from the doorway. “Komm, schnell, breakfast is ready.”
