Bertha's Resolve: Love's Journey in Sugarcreek, Book 4

by Serena B. Miller

  “I am painfully aware of my people’s ability to gossip,” Bertha said. “Who told you?”

  “Amos passed by on his way home from work just as I was loading Holly into the squad car. He told me what happened and said he hoped it hadn’t been too much for you,” Rachel said. “Look, if you are too tired to do this…”

  Bertha waved away Rachel’s concern. “A healthy and contented newborn is no trouble. All she needs is a diaper change, some food, and to be rocked. Lydia and I are happy to provide that.”

  “I am going to be making other arrangements,” Rachel apologized. “But for now, I need your help. Joe can’t watch her tonight. There’s some big football game on. He and Darren mounted a second large-screen TV at the restaurant, and they are planning on live streaming it. There will be a crowd.”

  “I don’t even understand what that means,” Bertha said. “And I don’t care to know, but what about Bobby?”

  “Bobby would be devastated if he didn’t get to be at the restaurant with his dad on game night.”

  Bertha lifted the baby from the carrier, sat down in the rocking chair that they kept in the kitchen, and began to rock little Holly.

  “I can take care of one baby. No trouble. But at my age, I don’t think I would be up to caring for dozens anymore.”

  “Do you ever miss it?” Rachel began taking baby paraphernalia out of the diaper bag, laying it in neat piles on the kitchen table. Extra diapers. Extra baby bottles. Extra wipes. Two changes of clothing.

  In Bertha’s opinion, Rachel was overdoing it, but that was a young mother for you. She stopped evaluating the contents of the diaper bag and considered Rachel’s question for a moment.

  “Yes. I miss the children I had under my care,” she said. “I often wonder how their lives turned out. On the other hand, I do not miss the poverty or the desperation I battled there.”

  The youngest of Rachel’s three aunts came down the stairs, rubbing her eyes.

  “Hello, Anna,” Rachel said. “Were you asleep?”

  “Uh-huh.” Anna noticed that Bertha was holding the new baby, and she reached out her arms. “Ooh! Can I hold her?”

  Bertha glanced at Rachel inquiringly. They both knew Anna meant well, but she wasn’t always as steady as they would like. It had become a worry. She’d fallen twice in the past month.

  “It’s your decision, Rachel,” Bertha said.

  “Let’s go into the living room where you can sit on the couch, Anna,” Rachel said. “And we’ll bring her to you.”

  They watched Anna lumber into the living room, where she plumped down on the couch. Bertha had always been concerned about Anna, but she was growing more so these days. Anna had Down syndrome and now that she was nearing sixty, she had developed some heart issues that worried them all a great deal. Her doctor stressed that Anna needed to rest more, which had been hard to get her to do at first, but now it was getting hard to get her to stop. She was sleeping more and more these days. Plus, without moving around as much as she once had, she was beginning to have weight issues that also took a toll on her weakened heart.

  Once Anna was obediently seated on the couch, Rachel placed cushions all around her just in case she might accidentally lose her hold on the baby. Then Bertha nestled Holly in Anna’s outstretched arms.

  Both Rachel and Bertha stood poised, ready to catch the infant in case Anna was not able to hold onto her, but it was not needed. Anna cuddled the baby girl and began to hum a little tune to her while Holly solemnly regarded Anna while sucking on her pink pacifier.

  “We have kitties,” Anna whispered to the baby girl. “They are out in the barn. They are too little to play with yet, but I will take you to see them when they’re older.”

  She glanced up at Rachel. “Is that all right?”

  “Yes, dear heart,” Rachel said. “And I will go with you. We will show Holly the kittens together. Would you like that?”

  “Oh, yes!” Anna said. “Like when you were little and we played together.”

  Bertha scooted an ottoman over for Anna to prop her feet on so she could be more comfortable. Anna’s comment about how she and Rachel had played together stabbed at Bertha’s heart.

  Children loved Anna. For a long time after Rachel’s parents’ death, Anna had been ten-year-old Rachel’s preferred confidante. Then, like all the other children in Anna’s life, Rachel had eventually outgrown her. There was still a great love between them, but Rachel began to function in the adult work world, and Anna was not able to follow.

  Now it was Anna and Bobby who were pals. He was a kind little boy, but he would also grow up. Bertha just hoped that Anna could live long enough and with enough health that she could be a playmate for Holly when she got a little older. Anna was magical with children.

  That was the thing about life. It seemed there was always something clutching at her heart. More so every year. When she was younger, she had been stronger. She would weep at some heartbreak, and then she would square her shoulders and go on. Now, not so much. Bertha had endured a lot, but the one thing she did not think she could stand was watching Anna’s health deteriorate. She could not bear to lose her. None of them could.

  “I should be back about eleven.” Rachel smoothed a finger over Holly’s cheek.

  “I know,” Bertha said. “We’ll be fine.”

  “Next week, I’ll have the morning shift, and Joe will be able to babysit. It is nights that are hard for him. That’s when they have the biggest crowds.”

  “Having so many people wanting to eat at Joe’s restaurant is a gift from God,” Bertha said. “That is what we prayed for.”

  “Do you think we might have prayed too hard?” Rachel gave a soft chuckle. “It takes everything Joe and his brother can do to keep up with it all.”

  Bertha smiled at Rachel’s joke, but she kept a close eye on Anna. Her younger sister seemed to be already tiring.

  “I need to go.” Rachel said. “Thanks again. For everything.”

  Bertha noticed that her niece thumbed tears from the corner of her eyes as she walked out the door.

  Selfishly, she was pleased that leaving the baby was hard on Rachel. Her most fervent prayer was that Joe’s restaurant would do so well that Rachel would quit her job as a cop.

  She had never approved of Rachel’s choice of work. It hurt to see her only niece walking around wearing a gun.

  Unfortunately, Rachel had taken after her father, Frank, Bertha’s younger brother. Instead of becoming Amish, he married an Englisch girl and then astonished everyone by entering the police academy.

  She continued to mourn this action of her brother’s. Had he not chosen that profession, he might still be alive. Being a cop in Sugarcreek wasn’t as dangerous as working in a larger city, but things still happened.

  Preferring not to think about the death of her younger brother, she concentrated on this beautiful infant with which the Lord had chosen to gift their family. Holly was perfection.

  It wasn’t that Bertha particularly valued beauty, although Holly was undoubtedly lovely. What she still craved, even after all these years, was the sight of a well-nourished, healthy baby. It did her heart good to see little rolls of fat on a babies’ legs and arms.

  She also loved seeing their little round bellies well-filled with nourishing warm milk. Last Sunday, one of the young mothers left worship to nurse her baby in an upper room of the home where they were meeting, and when she came back down the stairs, the child was so charmingly milk-drunk, Bertha completely lost track of the minister’s sermon.

  Lydia came inside after cleaning up the mess that the Englisch boy had left in the pie house. Her face softened when she saw Anna holding baby Holly.

  “We are so blessed,” Lydia said.

  “We are,” Bertha agreed.

  It occurred to Bertha that Lydia had always been the happier of the two of them. If there was even a hint of a silver lining in a situation, Lydia would find it. If she couldn’t find one, she had a remedy. She would bake to e
xcess.

  Some people drank or took drugs or went to see counselors when they were sad. Lydia chose to make heavenly works of edible art instead. She would go into the kitchen, and soon, four or five dozen cookies would be packed up ready to take over to the Amish school as a surprise for the children. When she returned from delivering them, Lydia’s mood would be sunny again.

  Lydia also noticed that Anna was starting to tire. Quickly, she sat down close to her and asked if she could hold little Holly now.

  “Uh-huh.” Anna’s face showed relief as she handed the baby over. “You can have a turn.”

  “Can I get you something?” Bertha asked Anna. “A snack? Something to drink?”

  “No.” Anna shook her head.

  “Are you feeling okay?” Bertha asked.

  “I’m just sleepy.” Anna shoved the ottoman away, stood up slowly, and struggled a moment for her balance. “I think I’ll go to bed now.

  As she plodded up the stairs, Lydia and Bertha exchanged looks.

  “She’s not getting any better,” Lydia stated the obvious. “It might be time to take her to the doctor again.”

  “I’m thinking the same thing,” Bertha said. “Although I dread what he might have to say.”

  “Don’t expect trouble before you know it exists. Maybe the doctor will just increase her medicine.”

  “I think the medicine might be part of her sleepiness.”

  “Oh.” Lydia pondered this for a while. Then, just like Bertha knew she would, Lydia said, “Gellasenheit.”

  “God’s will?” Bertha said. “Of course, we will accept God’s will, but I still want to discuss her medication with the doctor.”

  “Of course,” Lydia said. “But we must prepare ourselves to accept whatever God sends.”

  It was the way of the Amish to accept all things, both good and bad, as Gellasenheit, or God’s will. It was a fatalistic mentality that had served them well. Lydia often accepted unquestioningly whatever she perceived as the will of God, even if it was heart-breaking.

  Bertha, not so much. This was yet another struggle in a long list of spiritual failures throughout her life. In her opinion, if it was God’s will to take Anna, she was not going to accept His decision easily.

  Chapter 9

  Sugarcreek

  1959

  It was late summer and windy as Bertha walked home from work. Brightly colored leaves swirled about in the air. Her steps were light because her dad had said yes to her and Lydia’s request. She had been looking forward to talking with their new neighbor, Sophie Young, all day. Her only fear was that Sophie might have already filled the position. Bertha chastised herself for not having jumped at it the minute Sophie mentioned it.

  As she came around a corner, Bertha saw that Sophie was struggling against the wind to peg her family’s clothes onto the clothesline. She was dressed in baggy purple shorts and a white t-shirt. Her hair was all up in pink plastic curlers.

  The first thing that struck Bertha was that if she ever put her thick hair up in pink plastic curlers, it wouldn’t dry for a week. The second thought was surprise that any self-respecting woman would hang clothes out this late in the afternoon. Every Amish woman she knew would be embarrassed if they didn’t have their laundry hung out long before eight o’clock on a Monday morning. Earlier, if at all possible.

  But that was the way of the Englisch. One never knew what those people might take it in their heads to do or when. There didn’t seem to be a lot of order in their lives.

  As she walked toward her new neighbor, she hoped the wind would dry the clothes before nightfall, although she’d seen a few non-Amish allow their wet clothing to hang out all night long. Such a thing would have humiliated her mother beyond bearing.

  “Hello!” Sophie saw Bertha and happily waved her over. She didn’t seem embarrassed in the slightest that Bertha had caught her hanging out her laundry at four o’clock in the afternoon…in shorts and pink curlers. “Have you found anyone to help me clean house?”

  She pulled a wet sheet out of her laundry basket and snapped it open, ready to peg it to the clothesline. Sheets were a little tricky to hang without accidentally dragging them in the dirt. Especially on a windy day.

  “Yes.” Bertha caught one edge of the sheet and held it off the ground while Sophie anchored it with a clothespin. “I’ll do it.”

  “You?” Sophie reached for a washcloth and hung it on the line beside the sheet. “I thought you already had a job.”

  “I do, but the store where I work closes early on Saturdays, and I can stop by on my way home.”

  Sophie pulled a bath towel out of the basket, and Bertha cringed. Didn’t the woman know that she was supposed to hang her laundry longest to shortest? Sheets came first—all of them—then bath towels, then hand towels, then dish towels, and then washcloths! The symmetry was pleasing to the eye and served to let any passerby know with one glance that the woman running the household knew what she was doing!

  “That should work.” Sophie seemed utterly nonplussed by the fact that her laundry line looked like it had been hung up by an unsupervised three-year-old. “They’ve just put me on full-time at the hospital, and I could really use the help.”

  “You work at the hospital?” Bertha felt her throat tighten with interest. She hadn’t really known much about their new neighbor except she was Englisch, had no children, was unmarried, and yet thought she needed help with keeping her house clean.

  “Yes,” Sophie said. “I’m a registered nurse. I work in the emergency room.”

  Bertha’s heart swelled with envy. What would it feel like to be able to say that? What would it be like to have this Englisch woman’s skill and training?

  Her mind overflowed with questions. How did one become a nurse? Where did one go? How much schooling? How long would it take? Was it even possible for someone like her, with only an eighth-grade education, to become one?

  She dare not ask. Asking would be as great a sin as doing. If she asked anything about what it took to become a nurse, and if her father found out about it…

  Actually, she didn’t know what he would do, but she was sure it wouldn’t be good. First of all, he would forbid it. No doubt about that. Dreaming of becoming a nurse was about as ridiculous as thinking she could fly to Mars. Amish girls did not become RN’s. Everyone knew that.

  “Then it’s settled.” The Englisch woman took the last item of laundry out of the basket, a white pillowcase, and hung it beside another washcloth before glancing at her watch. “I’d love to chat, but I need to be leaving soon. I’m working the night shift this month.”

  Bertha couldn’t help it. She blurted out the question burning in her mind before she could stop. “How did you become a nurse?”

  Sophie cocked her head to one side. “I went to the Massillon Community Hospital School of Nursing.”

  “Is it far from here?”

  “About forty-five minutes by car. Why do you ask?”

  Bertha’s thoughts were too muddled to share. She couldn't entertain the idea of more schooling, let alone getting a nursing degree. It was out of the question. A silly fantasy.

  “Oh, nothing,” Bertha said. “I was just curious.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon, then.” The Englisch woman picked up her empty laundry basket and went back inside.

  Bertha felt like crying from frustration. She might not be a great maker of quilts like Lydia, but she knew she had the strength, stamina, and heart for nursing. She had known she had a gift for it ever since she was a child.

  In addition to knowing she had a gift for it, the thing that kept gnawing at her mind was the fact that she did have a choice. She was not yet truly Amish. Not officially. She had taken the classes required for becoming Amish, and a baptism ceremony was scheduled for next month. That baptism would represent the line of demarcation for her from being raised Amish to actually becoming Amish. Until that moment, she had a choice. Once she crossed that line, though, all options would be closed
. Once she formally became Amish, she could be shunned for going against the church rules. If she decided to go to nursing school after baptism, her mother, father, sister, and brother would no longer be allowed to speak to her or even share a meal with her.

  Choosing not to become Amish was not quite as harsh as leaving the church after one was baptized, but it would still bring about relational hardships. She would never again enjoy the close friendship and companionship she had now with those of her church. Her people might be polite and even kind—although she’d heard some terrible stories about those who chose to leave—she would be considered Englisch from the day she made her decision.

  Charlotte’s letter, with its pitiful recipe for dirt cookies, tugged at her heart, but it could not help her decide which way she should go. If only she knew for sure God’s will for her life.

  One thing she did know. The image of children eating dirt cookies would never leave her. She also knew deep within her heart that with the proper training, she could make a small difference in that unfortunate country.

  Life would be so much easier if God would just send her a letter telling her what He wanted her to do. She would gladly obey whatever He said. No matter what the sacrifice.

  She was almost at her doorstep when a new thought struck so powerfully that she stumbled from the impact of it. Perhaps God had already sent her a letter—the one from Charlotte about dirt cookies. Maybe the reason she couldn’t stop thinking about it was that the message had been from Him all along. It had just taken her a while to recognize it.

  Chapter 10

  Calvin had lived with his grandmother in a small suburb of Chicago most of his short life. He did not remember his mother or his father. From what he had been told, a bad guy had broken into their home and taken their lives. Calvin was only a few months old, asleep in his bed, and left unharmed.

  When Grandma got sick, there weren’t any other close relatives to take Calvin in. They did not have a large family. A few months before she died, she had asked his cousin, Alex, to promise he would look after Calvin when the time came. Alex had given his word.