by Susan Wiggs
Their bare feet made no sound as they went to her room. An odd smell hung in the air, musky and metallic. She lifted a hissing lantern, and a bundle on the bed was illuminated.
At first, Jonah hadn’t understood what he was seeing. He didn’t want to understand. He forced himself to look. A baby. A tiny little baby, making soft, mewing sounds like a kitten. And now he recognized that smell. It was the birth smell, something he knew from the foaling box in the barn, or from the cow shed. He noticed an oilcloth table covering on the floor, with a big bloody thing in a shallow basin.
“Gott in Himmel,” he’d whispered. “What . . . ?”
“A terrible thing has happened,” she said. “I need your help making it right.”
Jonah tried to take it all in—the light and shadow, the smell, the strange heaviness of the air. “We’ve got to wake Caleb,” he whispered, turning toward the door as understanding dawned on him.
“No.” She grabbed his arm. “I have a better plan.”
An icy chill had swept over him. “Hannah—”
“Take it to the hospital in New Hope and leave it there. They’ll keep it safe and take care of it.”
“I can’t—”
“You can. Hitch up the buggy. You’ve done it a hundred times, so quick with your new arm. I’ll help. You can go and be back before it gets light out.”
“Hannah, don’t make me do this.”
“It’s the only way. You know what will happen to me and to this baby if I keep it. I’ll be shamed and shunned. I’ll lose everything and everyone dear to me. And they’ll make me marry Aaron Graber, and I can’t. I cannot bind myself to him forever. I’d die if I had to do that.” His sister took his good hand between both of hers, and he felt the dampness of her sleeves. “Please, Jonah,” she said. “Dabber schpring.”
Go quickly. He would never forget the expression on her face—the stark, desperate need, the fear.
Now in the bright light of morning, she regarded him with the same desperation, but in her eyes was a glimmer of hope. “Jonah, please talk to me.”
The kitchen clock ticked into the silence. “There was nobody on the road,” he said. “The little one was just so quiet. I left the buggy a ways away from the hospital and walked up like you told me to, keeping clear of the cameras. I put the box in the haven door and left and nobody stopped me and I came home and it was still dark.”
“That’s good, Jonah. You’re so smart and brave. I knew I could count on you.”
“I’m not brave. I’m scared,” he whispered. “We did a bad thing.”
“No,” she said swiftly, her voice quiet but fierce. “It was the right thing to do.”
It was not. He felt in the pit of his stomach that it was not. But he had no idea how to fix it.
“Are you all better now?” he asked quietly. “I mean, are you . . . is everything . . .” His voice trailed off. He couldn’t figure out how to ask what he needed to know.
She pressed her hands on the table and got up slowly to put the big copper pot on to boil. “I need to see about the laundry,” she said.
20
Reese practically broke the sound barrier driving to Middle Grove. Speeding was probably the least of the laws she was breaking. She had signed her statement to the police as the physician on duty, attesting that she had given them all the information she had on the abandoned baby.
But she’d signed the statement before she had noticed the towel.
On the way, she phoned Domenico Falco, her parents’ longtime family lawyer, on his private mobile number. “Sorry to wake you,” she said when his sleep-thickened voice came through the car’s speakers. “It’s Reese Powell, and I’m speaking as your client, okay?” She needed to make sure anything she said to him would be privileged.
When she explained what was going on, he was quiet for a few moments. Thanks to her parents’ specialties, they were constantly at risk for lawsuits. Domenico also handled partnership agreements, hospital and insurance contract negotiations, Medicare investigations . . . but Reese knew this would be a first for him.
Then his voice was wide awake as he said, “I’m on it.”
His confidence made her feel marginally better. She took a few deep, calming breaths as she headed down the gravel drive to the Stoltz place. The sprawling farm was bathed in the golden light of sunrise. A ground mist softened the landscape, giving it the look of a vintage painting. She was mistaken. The crazy story she’d told Domenico was nothing more than a fairy tale—a dark fairy tale. She wanted to be wrong. Please, she thought. Let me be wrong.
She burst through the kitchen door and found Hannah alone at the breakfast table, eating a bowl of cereal and a slice of bread slathered with jam. The kitchen was still dim and shadowy so early in the day. Hannah looked up from the table, her eyes wide. “Reese.”
“I need to talk to you.”
Hannah frowned. “It’s so early. Is something the matter?”
Reese scarcely knew where to start. “Where’s your uncle?” She looked around the room. On the stove, a copper pot simmered with a load of clothes and lye soap.
“Caleb’s gone to the Beilers’ for a barn raising, a couple miles down the road.” She sighed. “I’m supposed to bring two pies over at lunchtime, but I’m so bad in the kitchen—”
“And Asa?” Reese looked around.
Hannah shrugged. “Probably in the Daadi Haus, reading his papers.” The rhythmic cadence of her speech suggested it was simply another day at the farm.
Reese regarded the perfectly ordinary scene before her and felt a flicker of relief. Her suspicions were totally unfounded. She was glad she hadn’t come in blazing with accusations. Hannah would think she was losing her mind.
But unease niggled at her. Hannah was polishing off a slice of bread and jam, and when she got up from the table, she caught at the edge of it to steady herself.
“Are you all right?” asked Reese.
“Yah, sure. I need to finish the washing and then see about those pies.” Hannah looked directly at Reese, her expression benign, slightly pleasant. “Can I get you something, then? I finished the bread, but there are sticky buns from yesterday.”
“No, thank you. I came to check on you.” Reese took a deep breath. “We had a big night at the medical center.” She paused, watching Hannah’s face. “Someone left a brand-new baby and I was the doctor on call. That’s a first for me. A first for the hospital, too. It’s never happened before. It’s very mysterious, and everyone is trying to figure out how this came about. I decided to come and ask you if you might know something, because it’s a very big deal.”
Hannah raised her chin and folded her arms in front of her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m talking about the fact that someone made a terrible decision last night. I know you have a few friends who are already married and expecting babies. Suppose one of them panicked and left her newborn at the hospital.”
“Why would a person panic? My friends are all happy to be having their babies.”
“Well, somebody must not have been, because when a baby is left all alone, it usually means the birth mother is in danger or trouble of some sort. And a baby separated from its mother needs special care.”
“Will she be all right, then?” Hannah turned away, busying herself with the laundry pot at the stove.
Reese felt a chill of certainty now. “The baby, you mean?”
Hannah nodded as she stirred the pot with a wooden stick.
Reese walked over to the stove and took the stick from Hannah’s hand. “You need to sit,” she said.
“I must—”
“Sit.” Reese tried to keep her temper in check by reminding herself that the girl was in an extremely fragile state. She brought her back to the table and sat her down. “Let’s talk about your baby. I want to help.”
“She’s not my—”
“I never mentioned the baby is a girl. You did. That’s because she’s your brand-new baby, and
you need to come to the hospital with me and we’ll get this sorted out.”
Hannah quailed, pressing herself against the table and crossing her arms. “No. I can’t.”
“Let me put it this way, Hannah. You can let me drive you to the hospital now, or you can stay here and let the state decide the fate of your baby.”
The girl gasped aloud and said something in German.
“That’s the way it works,” said Reese. “Help me understand why you did it, Hannah. I know you. You’re a good person. It’s not like you to abandon a helpless baby.”
“It wasn’t like that. And I didn’t—”
“We’ll talk about it during the drive. I’ll explain everything that’s going to happen, and I promise I’ll be with you every step of the way.” She grabbed a pair of oxford shoes from the mat by the door and handed them to Hannah. “Put these on.”
Hannah’s hands shook. Reese was shaking too. As a doctor, she was obligated to subject the girl to an extensive physical examination. At the moment, though, she knew in her heart that the invasive questions and actions would shatter the fragile teenager. She also knew that failure to do so could result in losing her credentials, or at least being flagged. Christ.
“Are you bleeding?”
“I’m . . . I have my monthly pad.”
“And the placenta?” Reese asked. “The afterbirth.”
“Outside in the bin,” she muttered.
Shit, thought Reese. It was important to examine the placenta to make sure it had been delivered in its entirety. “Was it intact? Did it seem to be torn?”
“It was intact and the cord was attached. I know these things from the cows and horses. I tied and cut the cord myself.”
Reese observed the girl closely as she sat down and put on her shoes. Her movements were cautious, but she didn’t seem to be in pain, or even in shock. Reese was amazed. Hannah didn’t seem like a woman—a very young woman—who had just endured one of life’s most arduous, emotional ordeals.
“Talk to me,” said Reese. “I can help you, but I’m going to need to know everything that happened.”
“It just . . . happened.” Hannah finished tying her shoes and stared straight ahead, her delicate profile outlined by the morning sun.
Reese pursed her lips, gathering patience. “Let’s start with last night. How on earth did you give birth to a baby, take her to the hospital, and get home, all without anyone noticing?”
“It wasn’t . . . I didn’t do that.”
“Who was with you? The baby’s father?”
“No,” she said emphatically. “I . . . this was all my doing.”
“You went to the hospital, then? How the hell did you manage that?”
“I managed. It was my doing,” Hannah said. She seemed agitated now, her hands bunching into the folds of her dress and apron.
“So you did go to the hospital. How did you get there? How did you manage to leave the baby without anyone seeing?”
“I don’t know. I just did.”
“Hannah, there are going to be a lot of questions. You have to explain everything, exactly as it happened.”
Now the girl looked up, her eyes welling with tears. “I can’t have a baby. I can’t. Could we just leave her? Make sure a good family takes her in?”
“It doesn’t work that way,” Reese said. “You do have options, but that’s not one of them. Please, Hannah. Tell me what happened. How did you get the baby to the hospital?”
“I didn’t. I—”
“Listen.” Reese struggled to be patient. She frequently dealt with uncommunicative patients—they gave incomplete information, misreported things, or flat-out lied. Getting to the truth took time. She didn’t have time, though. Every moment the investigation progressed was a strike against Hannah. “Just listen,” she said. “I need to know what you did so I can help you. And that includes telling me how you brought the baby to the hospital.”
“She didn’t.” Jonah came into the kitchen, his somber expression telling Reese he’d been listening.
“Jonah, don’t,” said Hannah, extending her hands in a pleading motion. She said something else in Deitsch, her tone urgent.
Reese stopped breathing a moment. A big piece of the puzzle fell into place. “Do you realize what you made your brother do?” she blurted out.
Hannah stared at the floor. “I’m terrible. It’s going to be like my grandfather says, I’ll burn in hell for all eternity.”
“Stop it,” Reese’s heart ached for the girl, and for the steadfast, loyal boy. Jonah and his sister were so close. They shared everything and always had, ever since she’d known them. She went to Jonah and put her arm around him. “I’m bringing you both to the hospital. We can make this right, but only if we come forward now.”
He didn’t argue. Instead, he took his sister’s hand. “Let’s go with Reese,” he said.
“I can’t.” Hannah tried to pull away. “Please, I just . . .” She said something else in their dialect.
“She’s afraid to see the baby,” Jonah said.
Reese felt a welling of compassion. In a single night, Hannah had endured a terrifying ordeal with only her young brother to help. And this was only the beginning of a reality for which they were completely unprepared.
So much trauma to unwind here. There was a part of Reese that simply wanted to hold Hannah in her arms and soothe her. Hannah had been dealing with an unwanted pregnancy for months, and she had no mother to turn to. She’d just delivered a baby without assistance and was exhausted and weak, surely in need of medical attention.
Yet the task before them forced Reese to be the adult here. Everything about this situation was precarious. As a doctor, she was expected to act with swift decision. She thought about the rigorous questioning she’d gone through at the hospital. She was out of her depth, but hesitation would only compound the problem.
Reese knew Hannah had not thought this through. The girl had acted out of panic and impulse. Maybe she would ultimately decide to surrender the baby for adoption, but not like this. Not in a state of physical trauma and terror. She deserved time to reconsider. Unless she acted now, she would lose that option.
Reese wrote a note on the back of her hospital business card and left it on the table.
“Come, Hannah,” she said. “We’ll get through this. I’ll help you.”
A few minutes later, they were on the road. “When did you realize you were pregnant?” asked Reese. “This is important, and it’s one of the first things we need to know—the date of conception.”
Hannah chewed on her thumbnail and stared out the window. “That would be at the end of January. I . . . I think I realized in March.”
Holy crap, thought Reese. She couldn’t imagine the pain and stress of hiding a pregnancy, particularly among people who refused to even say the word. “Who’s the father? Is it that boy you told me about? Aaron?”
She hesitated. Stared straight ahead at the road racing up to meet them. “Please, he can’t know. I don’t want to marry him. I can’t. I just can’t.”
“Don’t worry about that now.”
Within a few minutes, Hannah nodded off. The salty ghosts of tears dusted her pale cheeks, and Reese felt a wave of sympathy. She had only begun to comprehend what Hannah had endured, in secret and alone, with no source of support.
When she called Domenico to give him an update, he was slightly encouraging. “It could be categorized as an emergency home birth. The fact that the brother brought the baby in is consistent with that scenario.”
“What about me?” she asked. She could sense Jonah behind her, coiled like a spring.
“You exercised good judgment,” he said.
“God, I hope you’re right.”
“I’ll meet you at the hospital,” he said. “I’m almost there.”
After she rang off, Jonah spoke up from the back seat. “He’s a lawyer?”
“That’s right.”
“And he’s going to fix it?”
Things were quiet when they arrived, though there was a woman in a sheriff’s deputy uniform stationed at the ER. Reese greeted the nurse and showed the badge clipped to her lab coat, keeping hold of Hannah’s arm as they passed. She brought Jonah to the waiting area. “Don’t move,” she said. “Don’t talk to anybody. If someone asks you a question, tell them to page me immediately.”
He nodded and sat down. Reese took Hannah down the hall toward the nursery.
Hannah balked, trying to pull away. “I don’t want—”
“We’re not dealing with what you want right now. You have a responsibility to take care of, and we’re going to see to that immediately.” Reese felt like a bully, speaking to Hannah like that, but she was driven by a sense of urgency. Hannah had only moments to step up if she hoped to make a different decision about her child.
The only occupant of the nursery was Baby Jane Doe. Presumably, other newborns were rooming in with their mothers. A social worker and a hospital security guy—one of only three on staff—were seated outside the nursery.
“I’m Dr. Powell,” said Reese, showing her badge again. “This is Hannah Stoltz, the baby’s mother. We understand the custodial situation, but Hannah needs to see her child.” There must have been a certain note in her voice, because the woman and the guard both nodded and stepped aside. For the first time since starting her internship, Reese felt the full power of her self-confidence as a physician. She was trained to act decisively in life-threatening emergencies.
Yet the part of Reese that made her so determined at the moment had nothing to do with medical training. The girl had been dealing with the terror of an unwanted pregnancy for nine months with no mother to confide in. She’d just delivered a baby alone in the dark. She was mentally exhausted by the trauma and physically ravaged by pain and blood loss, needing medical attention herself. Yet Reese knew her most urgent need was to see and touch her baby. She didn’t want Hannah to have regrets or to miss out on life’s biggest challenge—being a mother.
