A moment later, a series of furious barks had Hannah springing to her feet as well and hurrying to the door. Flinging it open, she stepped out onto the porch with Socks close beside her. Wrapping her arms about her to ward off the cold, Hannah searched the darkness for the male Border collie. Her hand rubbed Socks’s silky head as her mind thought back to the dog’s disappearance three days earlier and the frayed rope found on her.
Hannah’s shoulders sagged in relief when she made out the white markings on the black-and-white dog as he zipped back and forth across the top of the lane.
“Here, Dash. Come here, boy,” she called for him. After a moment’s hesitation, the dog loped to the house and leaped up onto the porch. With a soft growl, he positioned himself at the top of the steps, looking out.
“Everything all right?” Hannah turned to see her daed silhouetted in the doorway, the gas lamps from inside the house a soft glow behind him.
“I think so, Daed. I don’t see anything.”
Zebulun Lapp nodded and disappeared into the house. Calling to Dash, Hannah stepped closer to the door her daed had left open.
“Come here, boy. Why don’t you come inside?” Although she sighed, Hannah wasn’t surprised when the Border collie just turned his head to look at her before facing the darkness beyond the porch again. Dash had never liked it in the house. At most, he might enter and circle the room to ensure everything was as it should be before racing for the door again. Tonight, he remained braced at the edge of the porch. Hannah closed the door and crossed to him, wishing she had his enhanced senses, as she, too, stared into the night.
A dim light glowed where the road was. Then it was gone. Hannah blinked, trying to figure out what it might’ve been. It wasn’t a flashlight beam. She hissed in a breath when it came to her. It’d been a dome light of an Englisch car. If that was so, why was it sitting on the dark road beyond the end of their lane? Holding her breath, she focused on listening. In the cold, still night, she made out the quiet rumble of a car engine. But no corresponding headlamps lit up the road. She tried once again to coax Dash inside with the same lack of success; instead, the dog kept looking toward the direction of the vehicle.
Kneeling beside him, Hannah wrapped her arms around his taut shoulders. Socks huddled on her other side. Keeping one arm around Dash, Hannah looped the other around Socks, taking comfort from the contact of their warm, vibrant bodies. All three focused their attention on the road.
Dash stiffened, and Socks lifted her head at the faint sound of barking. Hannah narrowed her eyes on the muted glow in the distance of an Englisch neighbor’s yard light. From numerous trips past, she knew a large black-and-brown dog roamed their yard. The trio on the porch listened as the barking continued, followed abruptly by the muffled sound of a human yelp. Unbidden, the image of the man who’d approached her and Socks on the sidewalk in town popped into her head. Chilled by the thought of the man, as well as the permeating cold, Hannah hugged her dogs more tightly. A roar of an engine cut through the night, this time with headlamps piercing the darkness. The lights headed in the direction of town.
Conscious now of the cold nipping at her nose and ears and seeping into the parts of her not in contact with the dogs, Hannah stood. With one last look toward disappearing lights, she and Socks returned to the house. Dash stayed planted on the porch.
It took an hour and a hot cup of tea for Hannah to settle down. Still, she poked herself with her needle when Dash barked again. It was a different bark from earlier, but Hannah was up and at the door before the dog’s last yips concluded.
There was no questioning the clatter of hooves on the lane’s frozen ground as a horse and buggy pulled up in the darkness.
“Malachi?” Hannah watched as an Amish man sprang out, foregoing the buggy’s step in his urgency. There was no sign of her friend. Her fingers tightened on the doorknob. “Where’s Ruth?”
Malachi was panting as if he’d run the distance between the two farms himself. He braced his hands on both sides of the door. “The boppeli!”
There was no need to say more. Hannah jerked her cloak and bonnet from the nearby pegs on the wall. Malachi anxiously looked behind her into the large open room. “Your mamm?”
“Not here. Paul!” she called to her younger bruder. “Run down to the phone shack and call the midwife. Tell her that Ruth Schrock is having her baby.” Hannah was halfway across the yard before Malachi caught up with her. With a hand at her elbow, he assisted her into the buggy, almost tossing her across the seat in his excitement before scrambling in after her.
Hannah braced a hand on the buggy’s dash as they swung out of the yard. “How is she?”
Malachi encouraged his gelding to pick up the pace. “She’s bossy.”
Bringing her hands to her lap, Hannah clasped them so tightly she felt the cut of her short nails on her skin. “That’s her normal state. Obviously labor hasn’t affected her much.”
There was little further conversation as tension filled the buggy on the ride between the two farms. Hannah’s heart raced with the cadence of the horse’s quick beat on the road. Her friend needed help, but she’d never delivered a boppeli before. Her mamm, mother of several children, was visiting relatives in another district and wouldn’t be home tonight. Rocking with the motion of the buggy, Hannah tried to concentrate on the upcoming event, but her ability to focus vaporized like the condensed air that drifted along the horse’s black mane. They needed more help. Please, Gott, let Paul reach the midwife. Please let her arrive soon.
It seemed Malachi could hear her thoughts. “You ever done this before?”
The brisk air stung Hannah’s nose as she drew in a shaky breath. She considered stretching her experience to comfort both herself and the dad-to-be, but the truth popped out instead. “I’ve helped Daed deliver several of our dairy calves.”
Malachi was quiet for a moment before snorting. “Ruth’s pragmatic, but I’ll leave it to you to tell her you’re comparing her delivery to that of a Holstein.”
She recognized the humor for what it was, a defense against fear. A quick grab of the buggy’s door frame kept her from swaying into Malachi as they swung into the lane before coming to a rocking stop in front of the house.
“You go on in. I need to take care of Kip. I’m... I’m hoping we don’t need him the rest of the night.”
Although she wanted to dash into the house, Hannah picked her way over the combination of frozen, rutted ground and smooth, icy puddles. When she reached the front door, a guarded woofing emanated from the other side. “It’s okay, Rascal,” she soothed. “It’s me.” Twisting the handle, Hannah stepped inside to be greeted by the Border collie Ruth had gotten from her as a puppy a year ago. Shooting a glance toward the door she knew led to a downstairs bedroom, Hannah bent to give the dog’s head a brief rub. “I know. It’s a pretty exciting night.”
Her heart rate jumped at the continued lull from the room as she hastily shed her outer gear to hang it on the nearby pegs. She’d expected some type of greeting. Surely her friend had heard her come in? Hesitantly, Hannah crossed the large open room. “Ruth? Are you there?”
There were a few more beats of heavy silence as she approached the door before an exasperated “Just where did you think I’d be?” floated through the opening.
Hannah exhaled a breath she wasn’t aware of holding. Her friend sounded more annoyed than distressed. “With you, it’s hard to tell.” She stepped into the room, glancing immediately toward the bed. Finding it empty, she blinked in surprise.
“Ach, it’s a pretty safe guess tonight. Did you leave Malachi at your place?”
At her friend’s comment, Hannah whirled to find Ruth across the lantern-lit room, pulling miniature clothing from a wooden chest. Shaking her head, she crossed to join her. “He’ll be here in a moment. He’s taking care of Kip. What are you doing up? From the way Malachi came racing to our house, I ex
pected to find you...well, not up and around.”
“There always seemed to be something to do, other than get these out.” Ruth ran a finger down the dark blue material. “I made them months ago. But, after Louisa, I put them away. Just...just in case.” She turned toward Hannah, a little gown and cap in her hands. Although she sounded nonchalant, her appearance told a different story. Auburn hair stuck in sweaty tendrils around her flushed face. Her green eyes were clear, but filled with relief at the sight of company. They shifted to the door, obviously searching to see if anyone else would be entering the room.
Hannah bit her lip. “I’m sorry. My mamm isn’t home tonight. It’s only me. Paul’s calling for the midwife. I don’t know when she’ll be able to get here.” She forced the reassuring smile she knew her friend needed to see onto her face. “I’m sure we’ll be fine until then.” Taking Ruth’s arm, she steered her toward the bed. They were halfway across the room when Ruth gasped and hunched forward, crossing her arms over her belly. Hannah could only pray as tension gripped the elbow under her fingertips. Please, Gott, let us be fine.
They stayed rooted in the center of the room until Ruth visibly relaxed. Lifting her head, she squinted at Hannah. “Gut thing I always thought you had more sense and composure than any natural woman should have.”
Even though she hadn’t moved, Hannah felt like she’d run to the neighbors’ farm and back in empathy with the physical struggle of the woman beside her. She couldn’t take Ruth’s pain for her, but she’d help her in any other way she could, even if it was just mild distraction. “Well, one of us needed it,” Ruth snorted as they crept the rest of the way to the bed. Flipping back the sheets, Hannah helped the pregnant woman into a sitting position.
Sighing, Ruth leaned her head against the headboard. “If you would do one thing for me?”
“Anything,” Hannah immediately agreed. She pulled the sheets up to tuck around Ruth’s rounded lap.
“Make sure my kapp stays on, as I think I’ll be doing a considerable amount of praying tonight.”
“I’ve got it.” Hannah straightened Ruth’s prayer covering and secured the pins. She understood Ruth’s concern. The Biewel stated a woman’s head should be covered when praying. As it also said they should pray without ceasing, Amish women wore head coverings continuously. Knowing she’d be doing a considerable amount of praying over the next hours as well, Hannah confirmed her own kapp was well anchored after the jolting ride.
“And Hannah?” Ruth reached out and clasped her hand. Hannah tried not to wince at the strong grip squeezing her fingers. “If I scream, don’t tell anyone. I have a reputation to keep.”
“That’s hochmut.” Hannah surreptitiously wiggled her tingling fingers when Ruth released her hand.
“Believe me,” Ruth groaned softly as she shifted. “Of the many things I’m feeling right now, pride is not one of them.” She eyed Hannah with a frown. “We can’t all be models of demut and gelassenheit like you.”
Hannah’s lips twitched as she adjusted pillows behind Ruth’s back. “I won’t tell,” she promised. “Besides, no one would believe me if I did. They all figure if you make any sound at all, it’ll be to give orders.”
“Ach, they’re right.” Ruth settled back in obvious relief at the new position. For a few moments, the room was quiet as she gently massaged her belly. When she spoke, it was so soft that Hannah had to lean forward to hear her whispered words.
“So here’s the first one. If anything happens to me, take care of my husband.”
Hannah froze. Ruth looked up, and the two women shared a glance. Only clamping her tongue between her teeth kept Hannah from bursting into tears at her friend’s obvious concern. They were both thinking of the loss of Louisa Weaver and her unborn baby. Careful not to jostle the other woman, Hannah sat on the side of the bed and took both of Ruth’s unresisting hands in hers.
“Whatever happens will be according to Gott’s will. So we shouldn’t worry about that. I’m thinking your worry should be more about the sleep you’ll be missing when a beautiful boppeli keeps you up at nights. And you and Malachi will be wunderbar parents who’ll give this child many siblings to play with in the future. Everything will be fine.” Hannah pressed her lips together in a trembling smile. Please, Gott, let me be right about that.
With a final squeeze of her friend’s hands, Hannah stood and made her way to the open door. Facing the living room, she spoke over her shoulder. She didn’t want Ruth to see her face, as she was struggling to mask her own fears. “Now I have some things to get ready. I’ll be back in a moment.” Striding quickly into the kitchen, Hannah ensured she wasn’t in the line of sight of the open bedroom door when she hugged herself and bowed her head. Please, Gott, let me know what to do to help her. And please, please have the midwife hurry. With a deep breath, she raised her head. Moving about Ruth’s home, she gathered clean sheets, towels and rubbing alcohol while racking her brain for anything else that might be needed for the pending birth.
Chapter Seven
Gabe forked up another bite of meat loaf. He’d made a few lunches at his apartment—meaning he’d opened up a few cans of soup—but had been eating all his suppers at The Dew Drop. It wasn’t that he was at a loss in a kitchen, but that the Dew was such a winner. And its warm, cheery atmosphere was much better than spending an evening at home. Alone. Thinking about a woman who wasn’t likely to be sharing any home with him.
Among the clatter of silverware and quiet buzz of conversations, he heard the ringtone and vibration of a phone on a nearby table. Idly looking over, Gabe saw Martha Edigers, fellow Mennonite and the local midwife, frown as she put down her fork and picked up the device. The older woman must struggle with her hearing, as the volume was turned up loud enough for Gabe to hear from his own booth. He straightened abruptly at one of the names mentioned as Mrs. Edigers listened to the excited male voice on the phone. Gabe had his wallet out and was tossing a bill on the table by the time the woman disconnected the call. He slid out of the booth and was in front of Mrs. Ediger’s table in time to see her gather up her coat and fill in her husband on the call.
“That was Paul Lapp. Ruth Schrock is having her baby. Hannah Lapp is with her, but I need to go now.”
“Anything I can do to help?” Gabe nodded at the woman’s husband before shifting his gaze back to the midwife. The gray-haired woman studied him with narrowed eyes for a moment.
“You know, I might need you. I usually have an assistant, but she’s laid up following a foot surgery. I’ve heard you know what you’re about. Does that include birthing babies?”
“Once. I was more anxious than the new parents. But I can bring along some equipment in case it’s needed and add a hand if necessary.” As Mr. Edigers made a move to rise, Gabe continued, “And I’d be happy to drive.”
Mrs. Edigers covered her husband’s hand with her own. “You finish your dinner. I’ll see you at home. It’s hard to tell on these first ones. I don’t know when I’ll be back.” They shared a smile. It apparently was a common farewell for them. Reaching out a hand, Gabe assisted the midwife out of her chair and on with her coat.
“I need to grab some supplies before we head out.”
“My truck’s out front. Just tell me where we’re going first.”
After swinging by the midwife’s house to pick up necessities, they were headed out of town minutes later. They’d reached the highway before Gabe felt a sting of chagrin for inviting himself along. Granted, it was always helpful to have medical assistance available for a home delivery. From what he’d heard, though, the older woman seated beside him had been successfully delivering babies in Miller’s Creek for as long as anyone could remember. But once he’d heard Hannah’s name, Gabe acknowledged it would’ve been difficult to dissuade him from offering assistance, just for the chance to see her and ensure she was all right.
Squirming with embarrassment, he glanced over at
his passenger. “I appreciate you letting me come along.”
Mrs. Edigers smiled benignly. “Glad to have your help. You never know in these situations.” Her smile ebbed. “The community’s somewhat tense after a recent loss.”
“I’d heard about that.”
“The Amish don’t carry health insurance. When someone has bills to cover, they rally around with fundraisers. But they try to keep costs down. For them, childbirth is natural and quite common. That’s why many of the women don’t seek medical help until later in the pregnancy. Sometimes things that could be caught and prevented, aren’t.” She shook her head. “Things like eclampsia.”
Gabe had heard something to that effect. The complication could be fatal to mother and child.
Mrs. Edigers sighed. “Some women go to chiropractors, asking for help on pregnancies. I don’t know why they’re more comfortable going there than other medical facilities. I help where I can. Over the years, I’ve gained a level of trust. It would be wonderful, though, if someone from their community would become a midwife.”
“How is that possible? They stop school after eighth grade.”
“There are certifications that can be earned through apprenticeships. Wisconsin currently recognizes them.” She directed his turn onto a country road. “You know the Schrocks?”
“Met them.” Gabe couldn’t recall if introductions had been done that day in the fabric shop. Beyond his patient’s needs, all he’d seen and known that day was Hannah. But he’d remembered Ruth from before. “Briefly. I...um...am more acquainted with Hannah Lapp.”
From the weight of the gaze he felt across the truck’s cab, Gabe figured the Amish information highway must have tracks through the midwife’s office. Mrs. Edigers didn’t comment, but a quick glance in her direction revealed an enigmatic smile. “I’m sure everything will work out fine.”
Her Forbidden Amish Love Page 7