by Kelly Irvin
“I’ll get the boys started on it right away.” Thank goodness thinking had changed over the years regarding immunizations. Some Old Order communities didn’t vaccinate their children, but most Plain communities did in this day and age. Each to their own, but it seemed that God intended for them to be good stewards of their bodies and of their children’s health.
Laura took the bag and turned to the children. “Boys, go get ready for bed. I’ll be in with your medicine and a story in a few minutes.”
She picked up Delia and hugged her. “My bopli, how are you doing?”
The little girl snuggled into Laura’s arms. “My throat hurts and my nose keeps running.”
“The medicine will make you better.”
“It tastes yucky.”
“How about a muffin to get rid of that taste?”
Delia shook her head. “I’m not hungry.”
“She hasn’t eaten all day.” His face creased with worry, Ben shook off his coat and hung it by the door. “Her fever is down, though, and the doctor says she’ll be fine. Rest, lots of water or juice, and the medicine.”
“And the twins?”
“It’s harder. They weren’t due for their first immunizations until two months.” He glanced at Delia, who closed her eyes as she laid her head on Laura’s shoulder. “They’re so tiny. Their lungs aren’t strong to start with. They’re doing breathing treatments and giving them fluids through IVs. They’ll be there a while. The big fear is they’ll get pneumonia.”
“They’re in gut hands.” Laura breathed in Delia’s scent of little girl. “And we’ll pray for Gott’s healing.”
He nodded, but he didn’t look convinced. “Rosalie is staying with them as much as possible. We got a hotel room right by the hospital. I’ll come back and forth to check on things here.”
More bills. Laura made a mental note to ask Mary Katherine for another mention in The Budget. Ben would meet with Solomon and Cyrus later to discuss support from the Gmay. The emergency medical fund was intended for situations like this one. “We’ll be fine. You just take care of Rosalie and the twins.”
He took Delia from Laura. His gaze held hers over the little girl’s head. “I know it’s wrong to worry, but they’re so tiny. They’re struggling to breathe and that cough—it sounds so bad.”
“It’s human to worry, but we have our faith and we know Gott is gut. Pray.”
He cleared his throat. “You’re right. No matter what happens, we’ll be fine.”
The days were long, but family stepped in to help. Nadia organized meals to be brought to the house. Cathy, June, and Cassandra took turns stopping by to clean and do laundry. More than anything, their company helped stave off worry and gave Laura a chance to take much needed naps after sleep interrupted by sick children. Ben came home at night but spent his days at the hospital.
Taking care of the children kept Laura from thinking about Zechariah—most of the time. She read Delia stories. She played checkers with Christopher, and Life on the Farm with all three. The week passed. Some days the news was good. Other days, Ben seemed more burdened than ever. Friday night he didn’t come home at all.
Did that mean they’d taken a turn for the worse? Gott, please perform a miracle of healing in these two tiny babies. Heal their lungs. Take away their cough. Give us strength to bend to Your will.
By Saturday, Laura’s joints ached, her muscles hurt, and her head pounded. “No point in feeling sorry for myself,” she said to no one in particular. “I’ll make bread pudding. That will feel gut on sore throats.”
Despite knowing that Nadia would stop by with some delectable dish later in the day, Laura got busy in the kitchen.
“They’re here, they’re here!” Samuel rushed into the kitchen. “They’re here!”
“Who’s here?”
“Mudder is home. The twins are home.”
She looked out the back window. Sure enough, they were home. “Gott, danki.” She sank onto a chair and closed her eyes. “Danki.”
Samuel grabbed the door and swung it open. “Coat.”
He wavered just long enough for her to tug his coat on. She followed suit and rushed out to greet them. “Why didn’t you let us know?”
“We wanted to surprise you.” Rosalie looked better. Still exhausted, but lighter, less worried. “Besides, we didn’t find out until yesterday that they were considering releasing them today. And it wasn’t for sure until this morning.”
“Get inside, get inside.”
Everyone tromped inside. Samuel, jumping and hopping and whooping, led the way.
“They’re still coughing.” Rosalie eased into a rocking chair with Mia. “The doctor says it can linger for months. But their lungs are clear and they’re better off at home now. Fewer germs than the hospital.”
Ben, who looked as exhausted as Rosalie, rocked a crying Mary in his arms and paced the length of the living room. The homecoming reminded Laura of the first time she’d seen them. Zechariah sat in the rocking chair, holding Mia. Grinning. Happy. She shunted the memory away.
“Everything here is under control.”
“Before I left the hospital I called my sister.” Rosalie leaned her head against the chair and managed a watery smile. “She’ll be here later this afternoon from Seymour. It’s time we let you go home. You can stay with Ruby and Martin until Hannah’s bann is up.”
Laura opened her mouth, then shut it. Time became a gaping hole in front of her. She hadn’t thought about leaving, not since she arrived. This had been her place, her task, her work. Her usefulness dried up like an old box of raisins. “There’s no rush.”
“We’ve been so blessed by you.” Rosalie’s eyes were wet with tears. “You’ve helped us so much. I don’t know what we would have done without you. We don’t want to take advantage. We might need you again sometime.”
Pain sculpted the woman’s face, making her seem older than she was. She ducked her head. “I mean . . . you know what I mean.”
“I do. Anytime.” There would be no new babies at the Stutzman house. “It’s been my pleasure. I’ve enjoyed it.” Laura swallowed the lump in her throat. They thought she wanted to go home. They weren’t throwing her out. Still, it felt like the end of something important. Like when she stopped being a midwife. The end of her usefulness.
Just as Zechariah felt. The stubborn old coot.
Perhaps she was just as stubborn.
Be that as it may.
“Pack up your things and I’ll run you over to your place.” Ben laid Mary in Rosalie’s free arm. “Rosalie will put the boplin down for a nap in the meantime and get ready for her sister.”
“I can help—”
“I’m fine.” Rosalie cuddled the babies to her chest. “The kinner will help. It’s time you get some rest.”
Who said she needed rest? Laura nodded. No sense in arguing. She hugged Delia, who cried, and Samuel, who demanded she tell a quick story, and patted Christopher on the back. He was not one for hugging. An hour later, Ben pulled the buggy up to the hitching post in front of Martin and Ruby’s home.
“You know you need to stay away from the dawdy haus for two more weeks.”
“I know.”
“She’s used her time well. Her repentance is genuine.” Ben shoved his hat back and leaned into the sun. “Even so, when the time comes, she’ll need the wise counsel of a person such as yourself.”
A nod to her long years of experience, even though she was a woman. “I’ll do my best to guide her through it.”
“Do you think it was best for Thaddeus to leave?”
Laura studied his face. For a man, a bishop, to ask her, a woman, this question spoke of his concern for truly doing what was right by Hannah. “To be unevenly yoked for life to a man who made his wish to flee known is not a fate I would want for anyone, man or woman.”
“I agree. Solomon argued otherwise.” Ben winced, as if the memory of those discussions still pained him. “Cyrus was somewhere in the middle.”
“So you ultimately made the decision.”
“A difficult one for a new bishop.”
“Marriage is a precious bond and not one Thaddeus showed himself to be ready for.”
“I know Gott has a plan for Hannah and I tell myself not to be so prideful as to think my decision will affect how she spends the rest of her life.” He ducked his head and cleared his throat. “Just between you and me, I worry—as sinful as it is—that my decision will deprive her of a life with a mann.”
“Hannah’s story isn’t over. Her journey is just beginning.” Laura closed her eyes and let the sun warm her face. The cold would return, no doubt, but for now the sun warmed bones icy from the long winter. “We have no idea what Gott has in store for her. Only that He is gut. Trust and obey.”
“Trust and obey.” Ben hopped down and came around to her side of the buggy. He offered her a helping hand. “With age comes wisdom. The problem is I need it now.”
Laura eased to the ground. Her ankles and knees ached. “You have shown your wisdom by seeking counsel. You hear all sides. You pray. You seek Gott’s will in all things. I’d say you’re doing fine.”
His expression rueful, he shook his head. “I know you don’t think we did right in sending Zechariah to Michael’s.”
“It’s not for me to say. You’re his family. I’m not.”
“You’ve never lacked for an opinion before.”
Zechariah had made it clear he didn’t want her in his business. Despite kissing her. Or her kissing him, as the case might have been. “It’s the idea that he should be sent here and there that bothers me.”
“I only want what is best for everyone.”
“And it’s your decision.” She turned toward the house. “Just remember, his body may be failing, but his mind is as sharp as ever. If you want to seek wise counsel, his would be a good place to start.”
“More wise words.”
Ruby opened the screen door and peered out. “Howdy! Come on in. I’ve got kaffi on and a cinnamon strudel cake just out of the oven.”
Ben waved. “Danki, but I’m meeting my daed to talk about a few things and I’m already late.”
The move to Nappanee no doubt.
“If Rosalie ever needs more help—”
“You’ve done so much already.” He smiled. “We know we can count on you. We appreciate it.”
Plain folks didn’t set much store by expressing thanks. It was a given. But Ben’s expression said it all. Laura returned the smile. He swung back into the buggy and drove away. Laura heaved herself up the steps. “Kaffi would hit the spot about now.”
“Don’t get too comfy. There’s half a dozen little ones in the backyard, making mud pies. They’ll need baths later on.”
No time to stew or whine. Just the way Laura liked it.
THIRTY-FIVE
THE NEXT TWO WEEKS PASSED MORE QUICKLY THAN expected. Laura found herself engulfed in wave upon wave of great-grandchildren. Ruby had a revolving door, it seemed. Or there was a concerted effort to keep her occupied. From helping with meals and laundry to bandaging real and imaginary boo-boos to overseeing sewing projects to playing checkers and Life on the Farm to story time, she had little opportunity to ruminate over her time spent at Ben and Rosalie’s. She missed the babies, but she had more than a few great-grandbabies of her own.
That didn’t stop her from wondering how Zechariah was doing. Not that she would ask. He was a stubborn old man. If he thought she would trot after him, he was sadly mistaken. He’d made his feelings clear. She would finish out her days doting on all her grands from newborn to grown-up and married.
That included Hannah. The girl had emerged from the bann to do a kneeling confession at their members’ meeting. She’d answered the necessary questions regarding whether her punishment was deserved. She promised to live more carefully and to live up to the promises she made when she was baptized. Her sins were pardoned. She was reinstated. Her bann was over.
Sweet relief. Hannah had emerged from the experience looking more like a woman and less like a girl. She still had a hard road to walk, having this child without a husband, but she would have the full support of her family and her community.
Which meant Laura could move back into the dawdy haus as soon as Hannah’s parents came to pick up her meager belongings. Laura’s packed bags were on the porch as soon as breakfast was over.
“Shall I have Martin carry them down?” Ruby dried her hands on a kitchen towel. “He’s headed into town this morning. He could give Hannah a ride to Seth’s.”
“I reckon Seth and Carrie will come for her,” Laura called over her shoulder as she trudged down the steps. Raindrops splattered across her face. She tugged her bonnet tighter against a north wind. “Ask Martin to give me a few minutes before he brings the suitcases. I’d like a chat with Hannah.”
“He’ll be chomping at the bit, but I’ll try to hold him back.”
The image of Ruby holding her husband back made Laura chuckle. Feeling lighter than she had in weeks, she trotted through the wet weeds and mud to the dawdy haus, anxious to talk to Hannah. The girl had made it. Now she could take the next step toward returning to life in her community.
Laura rounded the corner. Hannah sat on the bench, the overhang on the porch protecting her from the rain and north wind. She was a dark figure, all dressed in black, against the white backdrop of the dawdy haus.
“Whoa! I wasn’t expecting you to be sitting out here.” Surprise took Laura’s breath away. “You scared me.”
“I reckon Daed and Mudder will be here to get me after a while.”
“I reckon you’re right.” Laura settled onto the bench next to Hannah. She shivered. “I know it’s warm for winter, but this dampness still gives me a chill. Is there a reason you’re sitting outside?”
Hannah rubbed her pale face with her black knitted mittens. “You’ll think I’m crazy.”
“I doubt that.”
“I don’t think I can do it.” She paused, her voice full of tears. “I don’t think I can go back and act like everything is the same. Wash dishes. Do laundry. Cook with my schweschders. Garden and can like nothing has changed.”
“Life will go on, whether you’re here or out there.”
“I feel like I’ll be . . . naked out there.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Before, no one can tell. Now everyone can see that I’m, I’m, you know.”
“In a family way.” Laura doubted that. Hannah was slim, but even so, at three months, she barely showed. More likely, her shame and guilt made her feel as if everyone would stare at her belly. “Everyone knows, but everyone loves you, just the same.”
“I know Mudder and Daed. They’re so hurt. They’ll try not to look it, but they will be ashamed.”
“And here you can hide from those looks.”
“I’ve been here for six weeks, by myself, morning, noon, and night. At first it was so quiet, I thought I’d go crazy. But then I had a routine and I cooked for myself, and cleaned for myself, and did my laundry, and read, and sang to the baby—I know that’s silly—”
“It’s not silly. You were alone, just you and your baby. You felt safe.”
“Safe. Exactly.” She brushed away tears with a damp mitten. “Only now, I have to face the world.”
“Not the world. Just people who’ve been your friends for your entire life. And family. Those are the people who matter.”
“I wonder if I’m being selfish.”
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe I shouldn’t keep him.” She cast a painful, shy glance at Laura. The changes in her wrought by this situation wrenched Laura’s heart. “I think of the bopli as a him. I wonder if maybe I should give him to a family who can give him a mudder and a daed, a regular family. He deserves that.”
“That is a choice you’ll have to make.” Laura grappled for words of understanding, support, and most of all, grace. Rosalie’s face as she acknowledged she would have no more children flitted across Laura’s mind
. “There are families who would jump at the chance to love another bopli. Some who can’t have one or can’t have more. But you would have to relinquish your feelings for this kind. You can’t have it both ways. It wouldn’t be fair to the bopli. Or the family who adopted him. Or her.”
“I know,” she whispered. Her gaze went to the gray, gloomy sky. “That’s the thing. I don’t know if I can do it.”
“The decision doesn’t have to be made today.”
“Can I stay here with you?”
“You know you’re always welcome here, my sweet girl.” Laura put an arm around her shoulder and hugged. “But you can’t hide from your life either.”
“I know.” Hannah sighed, such a soft, plaintive sound.
“There’s still time for a cup of tea, I’m sure. I’m chilled to the bone.”
A smile of relief revealed the Hannah she’d once been, the Hannah who could never be again, simply because she now had a responsibility she hadn’t had before. “I made peanut butter cookies yesterday. That would be nice with the tea,” she said as they entered the dawdy haus.
“Indeed, it would.”
“I still can’t believe Thaddeus left without saying good-bye.”
“Or that he’s sorry?”
“That too.” Hannah’s tone was tart. “It’s not fair. The choice was to make him marry me against his will or let him leave. Leaving allows him to escape all the knowing stares. I don’t want him to marry me if he doesn’t want to, but it’s not right that he can walk away.”
“Women do have it harder, I’d agree with that. But we also have the joy of giving birth. Would an apology have made you feel better?”
“Honestly, nee.” She tugged the box of teabags from the shelf and handed them to Laura. “I’ve struggled long and hard with forgiving him. I can forgive him for abandoning me. But our bopli? How can I forgive that?”
A good question. One Laura grappled with herself. “A person has to work at it. It’s called taking the high road.” She moved the teakettle to the front burner and lit the flame. “You can’t control what another person does, only how you react to it. Gott forgives us for our sins. How can we not forgive others?”
