by Marta Perry
In a moment Aaron was in front of her. Her tongue seemed stuck to the roof of her mouth. She filled the plate for him silently, trying to find a way to say the words she needed to speak.
As she held out the plate, she met his eyes and saw the same struggle in his face that she felt.
“I’m sorry—”
“I should—”
They both spoke at once; both stopped at once.
Aaron gestured toward her. She swallowed.
“Aaron, I am sorry. I had no right to be angry with you for what you said.”
He took the plate, his fingers touching hers. “And I had no right to say it. I am sorry. I was wrong.”
“Can we forget it?” She tried to smile, knowing others were watching. She should take her hand away, but his fingers had become wrapped around hers.
“Ja, that is best.” Aaron seemed to become aware that people were watching them. He took the plate, gave her a meaningless smile, and went quickly to join his brothers.
CHAPTER SIX
On the off Sunday when worship wasn’t held, the Amish of Pleasant Valley went visiting. Aunt Emma’s sons didn’t live close enough to come often, but since most Amish were related if you went back far enough, she didn’t lack for invitations.
Today, joining the other women in Anna Fisher’s kitchen as they prepared the meal, Sarah thought how familiar this all was. Sunday visits were an integral part of their lives. In the outside world folks might use Sunday for football games or shopping, but not here. On Sunday you were either in church or visiting family or having family come to visit.
Myra and Joseph Beiler were here, as well. Apparently they lived next door. Samuel helped Joseph in his machinery shop when he wasn’t training horses, and Joseph and Anna were brother and sister, as were Samuel and Myra—another example of the connections that marked Amish life.
In this case, that had perils as well as strengths. Sarah glanced toward the living room, where Myra’s daughters played with their cousin. Since there’d been a case of Down syndrome in the family, there was all the more reason for Anna to be tested when she became pregnant.
Sarah sliced a loaf of oatmeal bread, stacking it in a napkin-lined basket. She glanced at Anna, bending over the stove to check her pot roast. With some women, testing might be a difficult subject to bring up, but Anna struck Sarah as being mature and clear-minded. She’d probably already thought of it.
With two mothers and two midwives in the room, the talk naturally centered on babies. This pattern, too, was familiar. The men in the living room talking about work or weather, the women in the kitchen talking about pregnancy and babies, something they wouldn’t discuss in front of the men.
Myra added hot biscuits to the bread basket, giving Sarah a shy smile.
“I’m glad we met at the hunters’ breakfast. I’ve been wanting to meet you. You are getting acquainted with everyone, ain’t so?”
Sarah smiled. “It will take a while, I guess. I’m still figuring out how everyone is related.”
“You must ask your aunt about that. She knows everyone’s family tree, from delivering all those babies. I saw that you were chatting with Aaron Miller at the breakfast. You must be getting to know him.”
“Not really.” The words came out too sharply, and she regretted that instantly. What was it about Aaron that brought out her most disagreeable qualities?
Myra’s cheeks flushed. “I didn’t mean—”
“No, no, I am the one who’s sorry. Aaron and his brothers are building the new birthing rooms for us, that’s all. That’s what we were talking about.” Well, in a way it was.
“And you don’t want folks pairing you up already,” Myra said, smiling. “You have to forgive us. I’m so happy with Joseph that I’d like to have everyone feel this way. And you must be lonely since your husband died.”
Maybe it was as well to get this out in the open. Then word would get around, and folks would stop wondering.
“A little lonely, I guess, but my work keeps me busy. I don’t really think I’ll marry again. What man would put up with the crazy schedule a midwife keeps?”
Myra glanced toward Emma. “Your uncle didn’t seem to mind.”
“Onkel Ezra was one of a kind.” Her voice softened as she remembered Aunt Emma’s husband. “He didn’t seem to mind any inconvenience, but I don’t think there are many men like that around. Anyway, I guess I am promised to my work.”
“We are the winners, in that case,” Anna said, coming up behind them in time to hear the words. “Myra, would you mind mashing the potatoes? They always come out so light when you do them.”
Myra smiled, shaking her head at the compliment, and crossed the kitchen.
“I thought maybe Myra was asking too many questions,” Anna said under the clatter of dishes as Aunt Emma got serving bowls out.
“Not at all. Well, I know everyone is curious when someone new comes to the community.”
“Or someone old comes back.” Anna shrugged her shoulders. “I was three years in the Englisch world before I came home. I remember how it was, feeling as if everyone was watching and wondering. You’re going through that now, ain’t so?”
“It does make me wonder if I’ve put my kapp on upside down sometimes,” she admitted. That explained the maturity and assertiveness she’d sensed in Anna. She’d earned them, perhaps the hard way, being out among the Englisch.
“One thing I learned out there.” Anna seemed to be sensing her thoughts. “To ask when I want something.” She lowered her voice with a glance at Emma. “I’m almost certain sure now that I am expecting, and if so, I want you to be the one to deliver my baby.”
Sarah didn’t know what to say, and she should have come up with an answer for that by now. “I hope it works out that way,” she said carefully. “Aunt Emma and I haven’t yet decided exactly how we’ll divide up the cases.”
Anna nodded. “So long as you know. When it was thought Emma was going to retire . . . well, I wasn’t sure what I would do.” She hesitated. “I don’t know if Emma has told this to you, or even if she knew it, but rumor was that Dr. Mitchell wanted the law to shut down Emma’s midwife practice.”
“I don’t—No, I didn’t realize that.” Her mind spun crazily. Had Aunt Emma known? Was that maybe behind the fact that she hadn’t had the birthing rooms finished? “What on earth did the man have against Aunt Emma?”
“Maybe not Emma in particular,” Anna said. “Seems from the time he came to Pleasant Valley he’s been intent on having things his way, and he just plain doesn’t believe in midwives. Well, anyway, I thought you should know.” Her smile flashed. “Hope that doesn’t make me a blabbermaul.”
She turned before Sarah could respond, going to the doorway and getting the attention of the men in the living room. “We are dishing up now. Will you two get the little ones in their seats?”
After a few moments of confusion as the women carried food to the table, the little girls knocked over their block towers, and the men gathered the kinder up, they were all seated around the long kitchen table. The room was warm with the heat from the stove, and the bowls and platters steamed, perfuming the air. Samuel, at the head of the table, bowed his head for the silent blessing, and the others followed his example.
Please, Father. Sarah found her prayer straying from blessing the food to her other concern. Help me see if I should do something about this doctor. And show me how to manage my relationship with Aunt Emma. I don’t want her to feel that I am taking her patients.
As if they could see with their eyes closed, everyone at the table murmured a silent “Amen” at the same time that Samuel opened his eyes. Platters heavy with food began to flow around the table.
“So, Emma,” Joseph said, “when are you going to let us set up a telephone shanty for you? Seems to me that if a machinery shop can have one, a midwife should. It would make Samuel feel easier when he and Anna start having babies, that’s certain sure.”
Samuel grinned. “You might
be right at that. Especially if a little one decides to come in the middle of a stormy night.”
Aunt Emma looked up from buttering a roll for Anna’s little girl. “I’ve never seen much need for that. Folks always seem to get me, one way or another.”
“Did your practice in Ohio have a telephone nearby, Sarah?” Myra handed her the bowl of mashed potatoes as she asked.
Sarah disliked being in a position where she seemed to disagree with Aunt Emma, but she couldn’t say anything but the truth. “Ja, we had a telephone shanty with an answering machine so people could leave a message. And one of our neighbors fixed up a buzzer that would go off in the bedroom if a call came in the night.”
“We could fix that up, easy as can be.” Joseph glanced at his brother-in-law. “Right, Samuel?”
“I’d say so. It wouldn’t take much.” Samuel looked as if he were seeing it in his mind. “It wouldn’t take more’n an hour or two of work to do that once the phone was in place.”
“Easiest if we put the shanty as close to the bedroom as possible,” Joseph added, obviously eager to do the project and sounding as if it had already been decided.
Sarah looked at her aunt, and her heart seemed to clench. Emma didn’t look angry or upset. That would have been a natural reaction from her when she opposed something. Instead Emma looked . . . withdrawn. Distant. As if she were sitting back and watching things go on without her.
That wasn’t what Sarah wanted. She was here to help Aunt Emma, not replace her. Certainly not make her feel unnecessary.
“That is most kind of you both,” she said. “But I think it will be something for Aunt Emma and the bishop to discuss.”
Looking a little abashed, Joseph nodded. Anna began talking about the Christmas program the children at the school were preparing. The others joined in.
But maybe it was too late. Maybe the damage had been done. Because Aunt Emma still stared down at her plate as if she weren’t really there at all.
The cold air nipped at Sarah’s cheeks as she and Aunt Emma drove home from Anna and Samuel’s. It was not even four o’clock yet, but the dark line of clouds, straight as a line drawn by a ruler on the horizon, made it seem later.
Aunt Emma shivered and pulled the lap robe closer. “Just the first of December, and it feels like the middle of winter.”
“It does.” Sarah smiled, nodding toward the two figures walking down the lane, heads close together as they talked. “Those two don’t look cold, though.”
Aunt Emma peered through her glasses. “Benjamin Miller, that is. Walking out with Louise Buckholtz, I see. Ach, it seems only yesterday that I delivered the two of them—not a month apart, they were, and their mamms such gut friends.”
Sarah didn’t dare breathe. Aunt Emma had brought up the subject of Benjamin’s birth herself. Would she go on to talk about his mamm’s dying?
Her aunt shook her head, shivering again despite the warm blanket. “I never could forget that, no matter how much time went by. The only mother who died in all the years I’ve been a midwife.”
“I am sure you did everything you could do.” It was the only response Sarah could think to make.
“If only he had done as I said . . .” Emma let that trail off, lapsing in abstracted silence.
“Who?” Sarah kept her voice soft, nearly a whisper, but her heart was thudding. She held her breath. “If who had done what you said?”
As if roused by the question, Aunt Emma jerked upright. “Nothing. Never mind.” Her lips clamped into a straight, stubborn line.
Sarah knew the signs. Her aunt would say no more, and she was left wondering.
Their buggy passed the young couple, and she raised her hand in greeting. Benjamin nodded, his cheeks red either with the cold or maybe with embarrassment that she’d seen him with a girl.
She turned the horse in when they reached the lane, and they rolled up to the house. She shot a glance at Aunt Emma. She’d hoped to have a quiet talk about this business of the telephone once they got home, but the tired lines in her aunt’s face changed her mind.
“You go on in and warm up,” she said. “I’ll take care of Dolly.”
Her aunt didn’t argue, which was in itself cause for concern. “Ja.” She slid down slowly. “I think I will take a little nap.”
That startled Sarah. She couldn’t remember a time when Aunt Emma had lain down willingly in the middle of the day, even after being up most of the night delivering a baby.
“Are you feeling all right?” Sarah leaned down from the high seat, keeping a firm hold on the lines. Restive, Dolly tossed her head, obviously wanting to move on toward her warm barn.
“Fine, fine.” Aunt Emma gave an irritated shake to her head. “I chust want a little rest, that’s all.” She walked off toward the porch, and Sarah stayed where she was until she’d seen her aunt get safely inside.
Dolly moved toward the barn at a quick clip the instant she loosened the lines. Once there, Sarah moved automatically through the routine of removing the harness, rubbing the horse down, turning her into her stall, seeing to the feed and water. All the while her mind revolved around Aunt Emma’s out of character behavior.
Was this all to do with that business about the telephone? She’d had every intention of bringing the subject up with Aunt Emma, but she wouldn’t have done it that way, in front of other people. Did her aunt feel as if they’d joined together against her? She wouldn’t have Emma feel that for the world.
And what about Dr. Mitchell? Had Aunt Emma been aware of his antagonism or not?
The house was still when she went back inside. Aunt Emma must have done as she’d said. Sarah stood at the foot of the stairs, listening, hearing nothing more than a soft snore.
Well, Aunt Emma knew best about her own needs. Maybe some soup for supper would be gut. Sarah stepped into the pantry, looking along the well-stocked shelves for soup. She took down a quart of chicken noodle soup and carried it to the kitchen. As she set it on the counter, she glanced through the window. And smiled, distracted from her thoughts.
Hand in hand, Benjamin and Louise walked across the frosty grass toward the pond. Louise swung away from him, tilting her head, and then skipped back. The sight of their laughing faces warmed Sarah’s heart.
She could remember when she and Levi were like that—skipping through their time together, laughing, teasing. Carefree. So sure of their love, so convinced they knew what the future held.
For once, such thoughts didn’t seem to be leading her into a spiral of doubt and blame. Today, for a reason she didn’t quite understand, she could look at Benjamin and Louise’s puppy love and simply smile at that innocent happiness.
Well, why not? It would be a pity to let what happened later cloud the memories of her own happy days. Like Benjamin and his girl, she and Levi hadn’t had a thought then for anything other than the delightful new feelings they had for each other.
She glanced out the window again, still smiling, and froze, her hand tightening on the edge of the sink. The girl had slid out onto the glossy surface of the frozen pond. She stood there, laughing, beckoning at Benjamin to join her.
The ice surely wasn’t thick enough to hold one, let alone two. Sarah’s body stiffened, and she leaned forward as if she could reach them through the glass.
Thank the dear Lord, Benjamin seemed more sensible than the girl. He stood on the bank, reaching out to her. Sarah couldn’t hear his voice, but she could imagine the words. He’d be telling Louise not to be so foolish, to come off the ice.
Louise reacted predictably for a girl her age, with a toss of her head that seemed to say he needn’t think he could tell her what to do. She took another step toward the middle of the pond.
Sarah whirled, grabbing her coat and hurrying out the back door and down the three steps. They wouldn’t thank her for interfering, but maybe just the realization that an adult was watching would be enough to make the girl act sensibly.
Sarah hurried around the house, her eyes fixed on
them. Should she call out? If she did—
All in a moment it was too late. The ice cracked—the sound was a shot in the cold air. The girl’s arms flew out, reaching for a support that wasn’t there. She plunged through the ice.
Sarah broke into a run, her jumbled prayers keeping pace with her racing feet.
Hold her up, Father. Please. Please.
Benjamin, frantic, ventured a foot onto the ice.
“Benjamin, stop! Stop!” The cry was torn from her throat. “You muscht stoppe.”
He turned toward her, his young face distorted by fear and panic. But he was heeding her.
“Lie down.” It took all she had to shout and run. “Lie down on the ice.”
She could see the sense come back into his face at her words. He threw himself onto his belly, inching forward onto the ice.
An eternity of running, and she was there. A broken branch lay near the tree, and she grabbed it, plunging down on the ground behind Benjamin.
Louise bobbed up, arms thrashing, breaking the ice still more as she grasped for it. Her lips were blue—she’d exhaust herself, disappear under the surface . . .
“Louise!” Sarah shouted the name, putting every force of her will into it. “We are coming for you. You must stop moving. Listen to me! Stop moving. Just keep your head above the water.”
Benjamin slithered out onto the ice, which was still firm near the edge of the pond. “Hold my feet.”
“Ja, I will.” Sarah shoved the branch into his hand. “Hold this out so she can reach it. Don’t try to take her hand, or you’ll go through as well.”
Harsh words, but she’d seen a cousin break through the ice when she was a child. Her father’s orders as he organized the rescue filled her mind as if in answer to her prayer. Move slowly, stay flat, use whatever you can find to reach out to her.
Benjamin took the branch, sliding it out in front of him. Not quite long enough. He inched forward.
Sarah grabbed his ankles, holding tight. The cold already penetrated her coat and dress to her skin, making her shake. Soaked with icy water, how much longer could the girl stay up?
