The Midwife's Dream

by Kelly Irvin

  “And they left their newborn baby with you?”

  “Jah. Yes.”

  Frowning, Deputy Rogers scratched his forehead with his index finger. “A shoplifting baby abandoner. This day just gets better and better.”

  “Are you going to take the baby?” To her chagrin, Iris’s voice squeaked. Her daed would not want her inserting herself into a sheriff ’s investigation of two Englischers.

  Deputy Rogers shoved his empty plate back and picked up his coffee cup. “That wouldn’t be for me to say. I’ll talk to the children’s division and the juvenile office.” He shook his head. “Either way, a judge has to make the order. Unless a kid is in imminent danger. Then we can put them in temporary protective custody until the judge reviews the case and makes a ruling.”

  Iris breathed.

  “Are your parents willing to be responsible for the baby—at least for now?”

  Iris nodded. She would take care of Lilly, but it was her parents’ house.

  Deputy Rogers dropped a dollar tip on the counter. He scooped up his bill and the two sketches. “I’ve known your parents for a long time. I reckon that baby is in good hands—better than she would be with those kids. They qualify as temporary protective custody in my way of thinking. Before anything regarding permanent custody of the baby can be decided, we have to find the parents.”

  Lilly would be in good hands—her hands. “How do you find people when you don’t even have last names?”

  “The sketches will help. We’ll put out a BOLO—that’s a “be on the lookout”—and send the sketches to other law enforcement agencies. We’ll use social media. Believe me, we have our ways.” He stood and headed for the cash register at the end of the counter. “I’ll go by and talk to your parents before I head back to Gallatin. I want a look at the baby and the bag they left. If you think of anything else, let me know.”

  Iris nodded once again, but her mind repeated the two most important words he’d said. Permanent custody.

  CHAPTER 9

  Sleep. Sweet, elusive sleep. Maybe the sponge bath would relax Lilly enough to make her nod off. Iris rubbed her burning eyes and picked up the towel. Avoiding the spot where her belly button would one day be, she patted the baby dry. She’d been careful not to get it wet. So many things to think about with a newborn. Especially this tiny one who was a decent eater but seemed to have her days and nights mixed up. Cry and eat at night. Nap, cry, and eat all day.

  “You’re nice and clean after your first bath.” Iris dressed her in a lilac nightgown she plucked from the bag of hand-me-downs Rachel had given her when she went over to check on the new mom and baby Micah. Both were doing well. Micah slept a lot. Lucky Rachel. “See how sweet you look in your nightie. And you know what that means? That means it’s time to sleep. Can you do that for me?”

  Lilly cooed and then burped, a loud, brash sound much too big for such a small baby. A stream of white, stinky formula spit-up followed. Iris sighed. “Just be that way, Lilly Marie.”

  Thank goodness for hand-me-downs. The next nightie was a soft blue cotton. Her arms heavy with fatigue, Iris redressed Lilly and wrapped her in the nine-patch quilt Jessica had left behind. Something from her real mother. It took more than blankets or blood to make a true mother. A true mother rocked her baby in the middle of the night. She patted her back when she had a tummy ache and nursed her when she was hungry. She didn’t run to Texas while others slept. “Do you have a tummy ache, my sweet? Am I giving you too much formula?”

  She didn’t know anyone who bottle-fed so she had no one else to ask. Lilly didn’t answer. She didn’t wail either, which was a good sign. Iris settled into the rocking chair she’d moved into her bedroom, along with the cradle. “You’re fed. You’re clean. You have a fresh diaper.” She began to rock. “Now you sleep. It’s night. We sleep at night. Now close your eyes and sleep.”

  Lilly’s head bobbed, but her eyes were wide open. She’d slept through Deputy Rogers’s visit the previous afternoon, according to Mudder, who said Daed did all the talking. Yes, they would take care of the baby. No, they didn’t know where the parents had gone. The deputy went through the gym bag and scoured the bedroom where they had slept, with hardly a word before telling them the same thing he’d told Iris and Mahon. If they thought of anything else, let him know.

  “What else could there be?”

  Lilly wrinkled her tiny nose and sighed at Iris’s entirely rhetorical question, but her eyes remained open.

  “Ach, bopli, Aenti Iris needs to sleep.”

  Aenti Iris. Would she ever be more than an aunt? Mahon’s words spoken in the buggy reverberated in her mind. Waiting for you to be ready. Mahon didn’t think of her as someone’s aunt. He drew sketches of her. Beautiful sketches. Despite the cool air in her bedroom, a wave of heat engulfed her. The trip home from Jamesport as the dusk began to gather had been spent rehashing everything Deputy Rogers said at the restaurant. Neither had broached the subject of the sketches or Mahon’s declaration. He hopped from the buggy at his house with a promise to return Daed’s horse as soon as he could and a backward wave. Just like that.

  She closed her eyes for a second, remembering his smell of burnt wood and the way he bit his lip as he worked on the sketches. The way he cocked his head to one side and then the other as he studied his work, his dark eyes intent and critical. The sound of his voice when he said he was waiting for her. As if he couldn’t quite catch his breath.

  Why hadn’t she said anything? It had been cowardly to leave him hanging. She didn’t know what to say. To acknowledge his feelings was to make room for the possibility that she might also have feelings for him. That those feelings might grow. That she might have to explore again the path that left her wide open to pain and anguish.

  “I’m not mad, Gott. I’m not.” She spoke aloud, letting her voice drift toward the rafters. He already knew what she thought, what she felt, how she hurt, how she feared. God knew it all. So why didn’t He do something? “Sorry, Gott. Sorry.”

  She’d spent her whole life learning the lessons of gelassenheit. Yielding to Gott’s will.

  No one talked about not liking it. What did a person do with those feelings?

  I’m waiting for you.

  Mahon was waiting for her. How long would he wait? He said he was used to waiting. That he wasn’t going anywhere. She could trust those words. She could trust him, couldn’t she? The memory of his hand on her arm, the feel of his warm fingers—farmer’s fingers that wielded a pencil with a deft touch. Touching her. She closed her eyes. To open herself up to Mahon, to trust him, was to trust God.

  God was waiting for her too.

  To yield to His plan. She was tired of going it alone.

  “Is that how you feel, bopli?” She snuggled the baby closer. “You look tired. Like me. We both need to sleep.”

  “Sleep, baby, sleep.” She sang, first in German, then in English, trying to blot the sound of Mahon’s voice from her head. It was a deep voice, deeper than Aidan’s, even though Aidan was a bigger man. Mahon was solid, barrel-chested, compact. A farmer who liked to draw. A farmer who read the stars the way she read books. He intrigued her. She’d known him all her life, and now it turned out she didn’t know him at all. “Grandpa tends the sheep, Grandma brings in the skinny cows.”

  Lilly gurgled.

  “Jah, it’s a funny song. I don’t know why they’re skinny cows.” She shook her head. All these thoughts spun round and round in her head. They had no place to go. She could tell no one. Not Rachel with her three little ones and her happy life. Not Salome. Mahon was her brother. She might tease him, but she loved her brother. “It doesn’t matter. You need to sleep. I need to sleep.”

  Lack of sleep explained her silly thoughts. Not cracks in her good-girl façade. She held what she most wanted in her arms, but this baby did not belong to her.

  Lilly babbled and swung her tiny fists. “You are a sweet thing, jah, you are.”

  The baby’s mouth opened wide, closed, and
formed what looked like a smile. “You smiled at me, didn’t you? You smiled!”

  Everyone said newborn babies didn’t smile. Mudder would say it was gas. Iris knew differently. Babies often smiled at her after she delivered them. She was the first person to greet them in this strange, new world with its cold and dark shadows. She shared a special bond with every child she delivered. Iris touched Lilly’s soft check and snuggled her closer to her chest. “You are loved, my sweet, you are cherished.”

  All babies should know that and feel it. Iris rocked a little harder. Her eyelids felt heavy, her arms limp. She didn’t dare fall asleep before the baby did. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “How about ‘Jesus Loves Me’?” Lilly might not understand about Jesus’ love now, but one day she would. Did Jessica believe in Jesus? Iris didn’t allow her voice to falter at the thought. Lilly’s eyelids dropped. Her hands stilled.

  Thank you, Jesus. Iris softened her voice to a low whisper. Lilly’s eyes closed. Thank you, Jesus. She held Lilly’s warm body, limp in sleep, close to her chest and inhaled the sweet scent of her hair, the scent of hope, of possibility, of dreams that can come true. “Sweet, sweet bopli.”

  “Hey, there you are.”

  Iris jumped at the sound of Salome’s voice. “Hush, hush,” she whispered. “I just got her to sleep.”

  “Sorry.” Shoulders hunched, Salome moved into the room in an exaggerated tiptoe. “Put her down so we can talk.”

  Mudder was right, as usual. Lilly would learn to sleep through anything in this house. “I’m tired.” Iris eased from the chair. Holding her breath, she lowered Lilly into the cradle and stepped back. “I thought I would go to bed too.”

  “It’s early.” Salome shivered. “I’m cold. Let’s go in the kitchen and make some hot tea.”

  Early for someone who was getting uninterrupted sleep. “One cup and then I’m going to bed.”

  Salome grinned and led the way down the stairs and through the front room. Mudder wrote letters at the desk, her head bent over the paper. She didn’t look up. Their giggles boisterous, the girls played checkers with Carl. Daed sat in the rocker by the fireplace, The Budget newspaper in his lap. His glasses were tucked into the sparse hair on his head. Ethan Shrock, Bartholomew’s brother, sat in the chair across from him. Both men smiled as Iris passed on Salome’s heels. Ethan raised his hand and waved. Neither said a word.

  “What are you doing out so late on a cold night?” Iris paused halfway through the room. Salome continued her beeline for the kitchen with barely a glance toward the other visitor. “Is everything all right with your family?”

  “Gut, gut.” Ethan’s gaze—which could only be described as hopeful—meandered toward Salome’s back disappearing into the kitchen. “We—I needed to talk to your daed.”

  Daed simply nodded. He wore his deacon face. His lips would be sealed unless Ethan let the cat out of the bag. Which he obviously didn’t intend to do.

  “What is Ethan doing here? Do you know?” She followed Salome into the kitchen where she filled the kettle with water and placed it on the stove. Her mind was fuzzier than an old blanket. “I haven’t been getting much sleep.”

  “We’ll get to that. You looked tuckered out.” Salome busied herself setting out mugs and teabags. “Motherhood is hard.”

  “I’m not the bopli’s mother.”

  “I hope you remember that.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Salome turned and faced Iris. “It would be easy to get attached to such a sweet little thing.”

  “She’s a baby who needs loving. It’s not her fault her parents took off.”

  “No word from Deputy Rogers?”

  “Not yet. It’s barely been twenty-four hours.” Iris plopped into a chair at the table. She kept waiting for him to show up at the door to take Lilly away. Which made every moment she was responsible for this small, fragile life more bittersweet. “I’m sure it’s like hunting for a needle in a haystack.”

  “Lots of nooks and crannies between here and the Mexican border.” Salome opened a plastic container and selected a large chocolate chip cookie from its contents. “What will they do if they don’t find them? They don’t even have a last name to try to find other relatives.”

  “I’m not exactly sure. Something about a children’s division and a judge.” Iris rubbed a spot behind her right ear. Her head ached. “He said something about permanent custody.”

  “Ethan asked me to marry him.”

  It took a second for the abrupt change of subjects to register. “Ethan?” This explained his presence in the Beachy living room. “When?”

  “Last night.” Her nose crinkled, eyebrows lifted, and forehead creased, Salome laid a cookie on a napkin. She held it out to Iris from an arm’s length away. Was she expecting a sudden explosion? “We told your daed tonight. He said he’ll talk to Freeman tomorrow after the funeral. The announcement will be made Sunday.”

  “That’s wunderbarr.” Despite her best effort to ward it off, a new ache spread down Iris’s throat into her chest. She swallowed against it, stood, and held out her arms. Salome walked into the hug. “You never said a word.”

  “It’s silly, I know.” Salome’s arms tightened around Iris. Her voice dropped to a tearful whisper. “I wanted to tell you before it was announced.”

  “I thought it might be you and Joseph.”

  “Silly you! Joseph? That would be like kissing my bruder.”

  Like kissing Mahon. The thought did cartwheels in Iris’s head. Stop it. Concentrate. This was Salome’s moment. “Joseph took you home the other night. The thought crossed my mind, that’s all. Why didn’t you talk to me about Ethan before?” Iris took a step back and peered into her friend’s face. “You knew I’d be happy for you, right?”

  “I knew you would be because you’re that kind of friend, that kind of person. It’s just that you and I are the last ones, and I know how hurt—”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Iris forced a smile. The last ones in their group to marry. “Ethan is like Bartholomew. A gut man. You will be a gut fraa to him. I’m happy for you. I can’t believe you kept it a secret.”

  Salome swiped at her face with her sleeve. “It really started about the time you broke it off with Aidan. I didn’t want to add salt to the wound. Besides, courting is private.”

  “Except between friends.” More than a year had passed. Aidan married Bess. Salome never said a word. Neither did Rachel. She had to know about her brother-in-law. How tender they must think her feelings. How fragile they must see her. Had she moped around that much? Friends and family should feel free to share their happiness. “I’m fine. Perfectly fine. I promise. I assume Rachel knows.”

  “Jah. I want the two of you to be my witnesses.”

  Iris hugged her a second time. “It would be an honor.” Watching her friend marry would be a special day she would never forget. “Where will you live?”

  “With his parents until he can build our house on a piece of Bartholomew’s property. Just on the other side of Rachel’s house.”

  Just down the road from the Beachy homestead. She would watch Salome’s babies grow and play with Rachel’s. They would bake and do laundry and cook together. They would piece the crib quilts and quilt them together. Just as they did now. God willing, there would be babies. Iris would deliver them. “And teaching? Who’ll take over at the school?”

  “It’s for the Gmay to decide.” Sadness crept into Salome’s face. “I will miss it. I lieb teaching and my scholars. I think one of the Schultz sisters would make a gut teacher.”

  She took the tea kettle from the stove and poured steaming water into the two mugs. The calming scent of chamomile filled the air. Iris closed her eyes for a second, inhaled, and sighed.

  “There’s that sigh.” Salome carried the mugs to the table, only slopping a tiny bit. “Ach, hot, hot. The sigh that says you’re sad.”

  “It says I’m tired.” And puzzled over God’s plan for her.

&nbs
p; “So, you went into town with Mahon.” Salome set a mug in front of Iris and settled in a chair across from her. “What did you talk about?”

  “Nothing in particular.”

  “Then how come he was so grumpy when he got home? He went out and chopped wood for two hours.”

  “You needed the wood, I reckon.”

  “Spill it, Iris.”

  “He draws pictures of me.”

  Salome paused, cup halfway to her lips. She lowered it to the table. “Like portraits?”

  “Like black-and-white photographs.” Iris nodded. “They’re beautiful.”

  “Daed wouldn’t like it.”

  “Mine either.”

  “Still, it says something about his feelings for you. You know it does.”

  Iris sipped her tea. It was scalding hot. Maybe that would pass as an explanation for the red that surely ran rampant across her cheeks. “He told me he’s waiting for me.”

  Salome’s face lit up in a grin. Mahon’s grin. “I knew it. I knew it. He told you when you went into town.”

  “He said he would wait until I’m ready.”

  “My bruder finally stepped up.” Salome hooted. “He finally grew up and admitted he likes you. And you like him back, don’t you?”

  “Courting is private.”

  “Which means you’re courting.” Salome clapped her hands. “I knew it. Gott is gut.”

  One conversation and a touch on the arm did not courting make. Iris took the cup to the counter. “The funeral is tomorrow. Mudder and Daed are helping, so I’ll have to take the girls. The boys will get there on their own. I really need to get some sleep now.”

  Ethan stood in the doorway, a silly grin stretched across his face. He towered over her, the spitting image of Bartholomew. He would be good for Salome, a sturdy place for the butterfly to land after swooping from one flower to the next. “I just came to see if everything is all right.”

  “For sure.” Iris managed another smile. “I’m happy for you. Treat her right or I’ll lock you in the outhouse.”

  He shifted from one boot to the other and ducked his head. “For sure.”