by Kelly Irvin
“It’s a true blessing. I mean it.”
“We’ll look forward to your day as well.”
Ethan and Mahon had worked many frolics together. They hunted and fished together. What did he know? “I’m going to bed.”
Salome’s and Ethan’s mingled laughter followed her out the door and up the stairs.
CHAPTER 10
A heart can be lifted at a funeral, even one held in a March wind that whipped bare tree branches, bending them to the ground. Iris tucked the quilt around Lilly’s face and trudged toward the Borntrager home. The folded playpen hoisted between them, Louella and Abigail followed, their high-pitched chatter like birdsong. Isaac Borntrager had lived a long and full life. He would rest easy now. No tears were shed at the cemetery. None would be shed now as guests from across states gathered to eat and fellowship in his memory. Iris dropped a quick kiss on the sleeping baby’s forehead. They didn’t have many assurances, but the circle of life was one.
“Let me get the door for you.”
Cold that had nothing to do with the wind swept through Iris. She forced her gaze up. Aidan pushed the screen door open and smiled down at her. “I saw you from the window. You have your hands full.”
Their paths had crossed plenty of times in the last year. She saw him at church, at frolics, at weddings, including his own.
But they never talked, not just the two of them. He looked good, as always. Tall, lean, broad-shouldered. Sandy-brown hair and blue eyes that could pierce to the bone or drown a person with their unexpected flood of emotion. She shifted the bag on her shoulder. Traveling with a bottle-fed baby meant a full bag, but not more than she could handle.
“How are you?” Before he could answer, she squeezed past him, careful not to brush against his bulky winter coat. “I hope it’s warmer in here than it is out there.”
“I’ll help the girls with the playpen.”
A few minutes later he was setting up the pen in a bedroom. The girls had abandoned Iris for ham sandwiches and brownies. “I heard about the Englischers.” He straightened and studied his handiwork. The pen had seen better days. All seven Beachy children had used it. “Any word on their whereabouts?”
“Nee.” She settled her bag on the floor and laid Lilly on the bed to unwrap her blankets. Her eyelids fluttered and then closed. She should be tired. She’d been up half the night alternately feeding and fussing. “I reckon they’re some place in Texas by now.”
“And left you holding the bag, so to speak.”
“The bopli, jah.” She tucked the quilt around the sleeping baby and faced him. “She’s a sweet baby. The mudder’s note said she would be back for her.”
“But you’re hoping she doesn’t come back.”
“That’s a terrible thing to say, Aidan Graber.”
“I didn’t mean it that way.” He edged toward the door. “I just meant you lieb your boplin and you won’t see one of them neglected or abused. It’s one of the things I . . . like . . . respect about you.”
“Most people wouldn’t want to see that.”
“Except one who leaves her with strangers.”
“She thought it was best for this baby. That I might do better than she could. She had Lilly’s best interest at heart.”
Sometimes best wasn’t easiest. Often it wasn’t.
“You will be a gut mudder.”
Their gazes met. The silence stretched. He tilted his head and gave a small shrug.
“Gott willing.” She managed a quick nod. “I know.”
“There you are.” Bess stuck her head through the doorway. She held her son, Joshua, on her hip. The chunky two-year-old, with his almond-brown eyes and hair, was the spitting image of his father, Caleb. What a precious gift of remembrance from Bess’s first marriage. “Henry and Timothy are looking for you, Aidan. Something about going hunting Saturday.”
“Sounds like a gut idea to me.”
Aidan strode toward the door. Joshua held up his pudgy arms. “Daed, Daed.”
A grin spread across Aidan’s face. He took Joshua from Bess, held him high until the boy giggled, then wrapped an arm around his waist so he faced outward on Aidan’s hip. Aidan and Bess exchanged a look that made Iris duck her head and study the nine-patch quilt. A family heirloom from a family Lilly might never know. Someone had quilted every piece with loving stitches, thinking of the baby it would warm as she did. Who was she? Lilly’s great-grandmother? A great-aunt? The ache in Iris’s heart had nothing to do with Aidan. Not Aidan the man. It had to do with what he represented. Her dream of stitching a crib quilt for her own baby. To be a fraa and a mudder.
Aidan was no longer the man to fulfill those dreams. Her heart had let him go. She took a breath and released it, delighting in the sense of relief that flooded her. Time had healed that wound. Her head and heart were now together in knowing she had been right to let him go. Lilly’s eyelids fluttered again. This time they stayed open. She stared up at Iris and batted her tiny fists.
“Sweet thing, you’re awake.” Iris scooped her up. “Did you have a nice nap?”
Mudder and the other women were serving food. She should help. Lilly would like the kitchen and its toasty warmth. So would Iris. She turned. Aidan was gone, but Bess still stood in the doorway, half in, half out of the bedroom. Her expression was equally uncertain.
“I wanted to ask you something.”
“Here I am.” Iris picked up her bag. “I was headed to the kitchen to help with the food.”
“Me too.”
Bess didn’t move. She was a sweet, loving woman who made Aidan happy. He deserved to be happy. So did Bess, who’d lost her first husband in a buggy-truck accident after only a year of marriage. “What was your question?”
Bess stepped into the room. Her normally rosy face was wan. She put her hand to her mouth and cleared her throat. She smoothed her hands over her apron as if smoothing nonexistent wrinkles. “She’s a tiny thing. What’s her name?”
“Lilly Marie . . . something. I don’t know her last name. She came early. She usually sleeps all day and fusses all night.”
Bess trudged to the bed and sat. She blew out air so hard the tendrils of hair that had escaped her kapp fluttered. “Joshua did that for the first few months. I thought I would never sleep again. He had reflux—you know, he spit up all the time and it irritated his throat. And he had food allergies. I had to be careful what I ate.”
“This one is bottle-fed. I wonder if that has something to do with it. Maybe the formula doesn’t suit her.” Iris rocked Lilly in her arms. It was apparent Bess didn’t come to talk about reflux and spitting up. “Are you all right? You look peaked.”
Bess wiggled. Her fingers plucked at the cotton material. “If you don’t want to do this, I understand. It seems strange to ask you, but it would be strange not to ask you.”
“Do what?”
“Deliver our baby.” She put her hand to her mouth for a second, then let it drop. “I’m in a family way.”
Plain folks didn’t usually talk about being pregnant. Iris didn’t pretend not to understand why Bess felt it necessary to bring it up now. “I’m happy for you. Really. This is gut.”
“I wanted to tell you before it became obvious. To give you fair warning.”
“That wasn’t necessary.” Iris wiped spit-up from Lilly’s chin and stared into eyes that were leaning toward blue now. The baby gurgled and hiccupped. “You don’t have to be concerned about my feelings. I’m fine. Really, I am. I promise.”
She was as surprised as Bess, surely, to find this was true.
“I’m glad.” Bess patted the spot next to her on the bed. “Sit down. You look tired. You look like a new mudder.”
Iris took her suggestion.
“Can I hold her?”
Iris nodded. Her arms were tired, yet they didn’t seem to want to comply. Bess slid her hands under the baby and tugged. Iris forced herself to let go.
“Do you look like your mudder?” Bess tickled the baby’s fac
e. “You’re so tiny. I don’t remember Joshua ever being this tiny.”
Lilly wailed.
Bess rocked and cooed and soothed. Lilly’s cries grew louder. Shaking her head, Bess handed her back. “She wants you.”
The thought shouldn’t warm Iris’s heart, but it did. She bent her head, hoping Bess didn’t read her face. “Shhh, shhh, baby. Shhh.”
Lilly’s wails subsided.
“She’s attached to you, poor thing.” Bess stretched. Her hand went to her mouth. She sighed. “I don’t remember so much morning sickness with Joshua either.”
“Jah, I will deliver the bopli.” Iris would be there at this special moment in Bess and Aidan’s life, the birth of their first child together. The thought didn’t rankle as it would have once. Instead, she felt joy on their behalf. She touched Lilly’s cheek. They were blessed to have each other and to be a family. Lilly should have that too. If not with her own parents, then with Iris’s family. “We’ll talk in a few weeks.”
“Gut. That’s settled.” Relief spread across Bess’s face. “Aidan always talks about how kind you are.”
“Aidan talks about me to you?”
“You gave him a gift. He’ll never forget that. He wants you to be happy.” Bess got to her feet, hand still on her stomach. “I’ll never forget it. I know how short life is. I hope you find your special friend soon.”
Iris didn’t answer. Mahon’s face as he said, I’m waiting for you floated in her mind’s eye. Courting was private.
CHAPTER 11
Maroon, navy, lilac, beige. The colors pleased Iris. Her head bent close to the kerosene lamp despite its heat, Iris laid out her diamonds, dark material cut on sixty-degree angles, along with triangles in the beige, that would create the blocks for her tumbling block crib quilt. This would be Bess and Aidan’s gift upon the birth of their first child. She hummed “Trust and Obey” as she picked up her threaded needle and sewed together the first set. She would use another shade of blue for the border.
The wood in the fireplace snapped. The smell mingled with that of the kerosene. Tree branches, tossed by a fierce March wind, scraped the side of the house. March had come in like a lion, as usual. She loved night sounds. Everyone slept. Finally. Even Lilly slumbered in the second cradle Daed had lugged up from the basement. She smiled at the memory of his gruff willingness to perform these small tasks for the baby. Even Freeman had stopped to tickle her cheek after church. A gesture that released the floodgates. Everyone wanted to have a look at the Englisch baby.
The days had taken on a rhythm. Lilly slept better at night. She didn’t spit up so much. Iris helped more with the chores. Mudder cared for the baby while she made her rounds to a few expectant mothers. Rachel’s Micah continued to flourish. The Plank twins were putting on weight. Hannah Yoder would deliver any day now. Visiting with “her” mothers kept Iris busy, and her own mother loved having Lilly to herself. Louella and Abigail bickered over who would hold her and who would feed her. A nice problem to have.
No one talked about what would happen next. She glanced over at the cradle. Lilly had her fist tucked against her mouth, sucking on her fingers in her sleep. She had such a look of peace on her face. Such trust to sleep knowing someone looked after her.
What would she think when that day came and Iris tried to explain she wasn’t her real mother? What her real mother had done. How could she break a child’s heart like that? Maybe she could simply be her mother. After all, wasn’t loving a child ninety percent of parenting? Providing food, clothing, and a roof over her head meant little to a child who wasn’t loved.
Love wove together family and home, no matter the circumstances.
A soft knock broke the silence. She stilled her needle and listened. Maybe it was the wind. A more insistent knock. Her fingers went to the hollow of her throat. Her pulse pounded. Jessica and Quinn? So be it. She marched to the door and swung it open.
Mahon stood in the doorway. Rain dripped from the brim of his hat. His coat was wet. Mud caked his boots. “It’s raining.”
Iris looked beyond him. “So it is.”
“It wasn’t when I left the house. Spring has sprung, it seems.”
“Took you by surprise.”
“Jah. From the look on your face, you too.”
He took her by surprise. His unwavering interest. His solid presence.
“Can I come in?”
She stumbled back. “I was sewing.”
“I was hoping you were up reading.” He glanced around. “And the others weren’t.”
“They’re not much for reading.”
He unbuttoned his soggy coat and slid out his sketch book. He laid it on the table without mentioning it. “I know we can’t take a buggy ride, but I thought we could talk.”
A buggy ride. Her mouth went dry. She licked her lips. “Would you like some hot cocoa?”
“How’s Lilly?”
“Growing. She smiled at me the other night.”
He grinned. “Can I see her?”
Iris pointed to the cradle, close but not too close to the fireplace. “She’s sleeping.”
He trod as lightly as a muscle-bound, hardworking farmer could toward the cradle. “She has Jessica’s look.”
“I’ll make the hot chocolate. You dry off.”
Her heart did jumping jacks as she heated the milk in the pan and added cocoa, sugar, and vanilla. She scrounged around in the cabinet until she found the last few marshmallows the girls had left. With hands that shook, she carried the mugs to the front room. Mahon sat in the rocking chair. He had the sketch pad in his lap and his pencil in his hand. He didn’t look up.
She set the mugs on the table and went to look over his shoulder. His strokes were quick and sure. The soft line of her cheek. The tiny tuffs of blonde hair. The long lashes. Rosebud lips. The nine-patch quilt. “You’ve caught that peaceful look on her face. I’ll remember that when she’s awake and fussing.”
He tugged the sheet from the pad and held it out. “For when they take her home.”
Writers used the phrase “heavy heart” for a reason. Hers suddenly weighed twenty pounds. Her throat ached as if she’d acquired a cold in the last few minutes. “You think they will?”
“I think you shouldn’t get too attached.” He took back the sketch and laid it aside with the pad. “I’m aware such advice comes too late. I know how hard it will be to let her go.”
“No one could hold her and not become attached.” Iris picked up the sketch and touched Lilly’s face with one finger. “Who holds any baby and doesn’t become attached?”
“Someone with a very cold heart or someone who is herself a child?”
“Young girls raise babies every day.”
“Maybe she was unduly influenced by the father.”
“What if they don’t come for her? What then?”
“Decisions will have to be made.”
By her daed and Freeman and the Gmay. By a judge. By everyone but Iris. She wanted to pick up Lilly, keep her safe, even if that meant running away with her. That would only make Iris like her parents. Runaways. She would never do that.
No matter how much she wanted to keep this baby safe forever.
Iris laid down the sketch and turned to the fireplace. She warmed her hands over the flames and tried to arrange her face in some semblance of a woman who could accept whatever fate God planned. She heard and then felt Mahon’s presence next to her. His hand slid across her palm until his fingers fit between hers. He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it. Her muscles trembled as if each one played its own sweet note. “What are you doing?”
He dropped her hand and touched her jaw so she would turn to face him. His eyes were the color of sky and happiness and ocean. She’d never seen the ocean. Until now. The waves lapped, faster and faster. He inclined his head. His lips touched hers for a second, then withdrew. She started to protest, but his lips returned and covered hers. This time she put her hands to his chest in hopes he wouldn’t move.
> He tasted sweet and perfect.
His was the kiss she’d always wanted. She simply hadn’t known it.
It had been worth waiting for all these years. From a friend who could be trusted with her heart.
He stepped back. “You were worth waiting for.” His voice was a hoarse whisper. “I hope you know that.”
Their timing was in perfect sync.
Lilly chose that moment to screech. They both jumped. Iris smacked her hand to her chest. Her heart beat against her ribcage in an uneven thump-thump. “She’s probably hungry.” Her voice sounded high and breathless in her ears. “I need to fix her a bottle.”
“I’ll hold her while you do it. We don’t want her waking everyone in the house.”
Indeed, they didn’t. Her father and mother slept down the hall. Only a few yards from where Iris had received that long-awaited gift of her first kiss. All those nights when she’d stood on the porch watching Aidan drive away, aching, disappointed, uncertain, agonizing over why that first kiss never came. God knew. God had a plan for her. For Aidan. For Mahon. At the doorway, Iris turned back to look at him. He held Lilly in his arms. He crinkled his nose, clucked, and then made chirp-chirp sounds. Lilly’s cries subsided. Mahon eased into the rocking chair and looked up.
The words came easily. “You’re worth waiting for too.”
His smile widened. “It’s gut you think so.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “And you’re right about not being able to hold a bopli and not get attached.”
“You’ll be a gut daed.” Their gazes held. Lilly began to fuss again. “I better get the bottle.”
“No rush. We’ll be right here.”
Her heart no longer felt so heavy. In fact, she felt so light she looked down to make sure her sneakers still touched the floor.
CHAPTER 12
The weather had turned unexpectedly warm for Salome and Ethan’s wedding. Nearly limp with exhaustion, Iris wiggled in the backseat of the buggy and tried to stay awake. A whirlwind two weeks of preparations and now it was over. She and Rachel had served as Salome’s witnesses. Mahon and Joseph had been Ethan’s. She couldn’t help but glance at Mahon. He winked at her, his face crinkled in a smile. That wink. It was all she could think about through the rest of the ceremony and the festivities. No time to talk to him. They both had their duties, making sure his sister and her best friend had a beautiful, special day. Iris smiled at the thought. She couldn’t wait to talk to Salome in the next few weeks to get her impressions of the daylong event. After the dust settled. She straightened, then tickled Abigail’s neck. The girl was nodding off against Louella’s shoulder.
