Luke set the hamper on the rocker seat and headed out of the room. Rather than following, she stood and glanced around, remembering her joy as she and Owen had painted and furnished the room. Now it was bare.
Leaning against the wall for support, Elizabeth picked up the last of the baby clothes in the closet and hugged them to her chest. Then stuffing them into her generous coat pockets, she clomped to the door.
She took one last look back before she closed the door on the room that was as empty as her life.
Chapter 10
That seemed to be the last load, but he should check to see if Elizabeth had anything else that needed to go. Luke hesitated before climbing the stairs again. She might need some time and privacy. She had to say good-bye.
He cleared the thickness clogging his throat and called up to her, “I’m going to get the wagon now. I won’t be long. Please don’t come down until I get back.”
No answer.
Luke hoped she’d heed his advice and wait. The thought of her tumbling to the bottom of stairs increased his worry. He put on his boots and jogged across their snow-crusted lawns to hitch up the team. His icy fingers fumbled with the too-stiff leather. The faster he worked, the clumsier his attempts. Finally, he succeeded in connecting everything and hurried back.
He rushed up the stairs. Elizabeth had stayed where he’d left her, staring at the door of the now vacant room. He hated to disturb her, so he stood silent, giving her time to grieve.
“Luke?” she said, her voice low and soft. “I’d like to go with you.”
For a moment, Luke’s heart beat wildly. She wanted to go with him? Then his soaring spirits crash-landed. She meant go to New Beginnings.
As much as he’d like her company, he’d rather not see her suffer. She’d been through so much already. “I can do it myself.”
She turned anguished eyes to him. “I have to do this.”
No, you don’t. He wanted to argue, but the tenseness of her jaw told him she’d made up her mind.
She waved away his offer to help her downstairs. Instead, she sat and bumped down each step, propelling herself with her hands and good leg, her cast sticking out in the air. He walked backward a few stairs below her to be sure she made it safely.
Her gaze far away and distracted, she didn’t protest when he helped her into her coat or held out his hand to assist her into the wagon. She even let him wrap her in blankets, but she seemed lost in another world.
Frigid winds whipped past their faces as they traveled the icy roads to New Beginnings, the furniture rattling behind them. When they pulled in front of the building, Elizabeth huddled deeper into the blankets, her face grim. If only he could erase the agony swimming in her eyes.
* * *
Elizabeth’s teeth chattered from more than snow as Luke helped her down from the wagon. I’m not sure I can do this.
If she could turn around now, she’d do it. She shook her head. Holding on to baby things she couldn’t use when someone else needed them was selfish.
Lord, I can’t go through with this unless You help me.
Once again, she doubted God would hear her after she’d spent so much time blocking Him from her life. But as soon as she prayed, a deep inner peace flowed over her. No matter how painful, she was doing the right thing.
“You’re trembling.” Luke’s concerned gaze probed deep into her soul. “Ach, Elizabeth, we can go back home if you want.”
She wavered on her crutches, but not in her decision. “Neh, I need to do this.” Her words lacked the conviction she carried in her heart.
Luke studied her closely. “Let’s get you inside to warm up. If you change your mind when we go in, we can turn around and leave.”
Elizabeth had no intention of doing that. She just had to get through this ordeal.
The gray-haired Mennonite lady behind the counter greeted them with a cheerful smile. “Welcome to New Beginnings. I’m Elvira Hess.”
In the large, sunny living room to their left, pregnant teens chatted or texted on cell phones. One curled on a window seat reading a book. Another cradled a newborn.
A sharp, swift arrow shot through Elizabeth. She turned away so quickly she wobbled on her crutches. Luke put a hand on her shoulder to steady her. He stayed close behind her, his body heat radiating into her back, giving her much-needed support.
“I, um, have a donation of baby things. If you want them, that is.”
“Of course we do. So many of the girls here have nothing, and no one to help them feed or clothe their little ones.”
The sound of squalling infants floated down the hallway. A young girl, her eyes red and swollen, appeared in the doorway behind Mrs. Hess. “I need help feeding the babies.”
Babies, babies, and more babies. All these young girls all have children. But I don’t.
“I’ll be right with you, Aubrey, as soon as I finish with this donation.” Mrs. Hess slid a ledger across the counter. “If you’ll just record your contact information and the items you plan to donate, I’ll prepare a receipt.”
Elizabeth’s hand shook as she jotted down the items. A tear dripped onto the paper. She lifted the pen, trying to blink away the blurriness in her eyes.
Luke leaned closer to whisper in her ear, “And the cradle.”
He must think she’d forgotten. But she hadn’t. She only needed time to compose herself.
“Do you want me to write it?” he asked.
She surrendered the pen and blinked hard while Luke added the cradle and rocking chair.
“Furniture?” Mrs. Hess asked when Luke turned the ledger toward her.
“You don’t take furniture?” After not wanting to give it up, Elizabeth dreaded the thought of having to carry it back upstairs, of having to face emptying the room another time.
“We most certainly do. It’s just rare to get such a large donation. Are you both sure you want to do this?”
Luke cleared his throat, but before he could correct Mrs. Hess’s mistake, Elizabeth cut him off.
“Jah—yes.” Elizabeth’s lips trembled. “I lost my unborn baby last year, and . . .” She couldn’t push out any more words.
Luke squeezed her shoulder gently. She glanced back at him gratefully and stayed focused on the reassuring pressure. His tender touch was the only thing keeping her from falling apart.
Mrs. Hess glanced at him, a question in her eyes. To Elizabeth’s relief, he only nodded.
“You’re both young. Perhaps God will bless you with more children.”
“Neh, I can’t have another one.” How could she with no husband? And she’d never marry again. Not when she couldn’t have the man she loved. She should correct the woman’s mistake about Luke, but she couldn’t bear any more pity.
The woman’s face softened, and her eyes filled with sympathy. “I’m so sorry.” She reached across the desk and grasped Elizabeth’s hands. “Sometimes we don’t understand the path God has chosen for us, but remember He loves you dearly and His grace is all-sufficient.”
Although she nodded, Elizabeth hadn’t found that to be true. But the Lord had answered some of her prayers. And deep inside, she recognized that she’d been the one blocking His grace and His comfort.
Melva bounced into the room. “Luke, what are you doing here? I mean, it’s lovely to see you. Did you know how much your armoire sold for?”
The price she named made Elizabeth gasp. He’d given something that valuable to the auction? Her own donation today paled in comparison.
Mrs. Hess’s eyes rounded. “You’re the Luke who donated the armoire. We’re ever so grateful.” She turned to her daughter. “And he’s back with more donations.”
Luke started to correct her, but Elizabeth shook her head. She didn’t want credit for this donation. He appeared uncomfortable, but he complied.
“Melva, can you help Aubrey with the babies while I finish up here? And please ask your father to come out and help unload the furniture.”
“Sure, Mom,” Melva said, and flashed Lu
ke and, by extension, Elizabeth a broad smile. “Come on, Aubrey.”
But the girl kept her gaze fastened on Luke and Elizabeth as Luke leaned down to whisper, “Melva reminds me of you as a teenager. Always so bright and cheery.”
Elizabeth turned to look at him. “She does?” How far had she come from that young, enthusiastic girl who trusted God in everything to a depressed twenty-two-year-old who resented God’s decisions?
A secret smile played on Luke’s lips. The smile that had made her fall in love. The smile that often haunted her dreams. The smile she wished—
She turned back around. Melva and Aubrey had gone, and Mrs. Hess was too busy writing the receipt to notice Elizabeth’s dejected expression. Her spirits had been damaged enough. She didn’t need to fall back in love with the man who’d broken her heart.
* * *
Luke couldn’t even imagine how difficult this must be for Elizabeth to see all these girls, hear babies crying, and know she couldn’t have a child of her own. He hadn’t realized that was the case.
Now the tears in her eyes as she stroked that sparkling baby ornament took on a different meaning. He’d tenderly wrapped the little decoration and planned to put it on her front steps tomorrow. At least he’d discovered all this before he caused her even more heartache.
As soon as he got home, he’d put the ornament in the finished cradle and give it to New Beginnings. It would look nice hanging on the small Christmas tree in the lobby.
“Hey, Luke. Good to see you.” Mr. Hess pumped his hand. “Thank you both for your generosity.” With a smile as broad as his daughter’s, he included Elizabeth. “Let’s get going. It’s cold out there.”
In less than ten minutes, the wagon was unloaded and the furniture placed in the lobby. “I’m pretty sure I know which girl we’ll be giving these to. Right, Elvira?”
His wife nodded and smiled. “I can’t thank you all enough.” As her husband passed, she remarked, “That means the only other thing we need is one more cradle.”
Elizabeth had started toward the door, but Luke stopped. “I did tell Melva I’d make two cradles for you. They’re almost done.”
“That would be perfect. She won’t need them until next week. God is so good.”
Mrs. Hess didn’t see Elizabeth wince, but Luke did. He reached for her hand, and she didn’t pull away after he squeezed it. She clung to his fingers.
Heavenly Father, please comfort her broken spirit and show her Your love.
* * *
When Elizabeth woke on Christmas morning, the sad, dull ache she’d gone to bed with the night before cast a pall over the day. Rather than scrambling out of bed the way she usually did, she stayed under the covers.
She could spend the day in bed. Nobody would know. No one at all.
Her family and Owen’s each assumed she’d gone elsewhere for the meal. And she’d made it clear to Luke yesterday, when he’d offered to come over to keep her company, that she needed a day by herself to come to terms with the empty room upstairs. Too bad it had to be Christmas Day.
With nobody stopping by, would it hurt to leave her daily chores undone?
After lying there for a while, Elizabeth scolded herself, You made this choice to be alone. You could get dressed and go to either house.
Luke’s words about helping others came back to her. She’d spent so much time pitying herself, she’d neglected God’s command to care for others. Jah, she’d donated the precious items she’d spent so much time making and selecting to New Beginnings, but she hadn’t given her time or shared her love. Instead, she’d focused inward. It had all been about me, me, me.
Talk about hochmut. Wasn’t feeling sorry for yourself a form of pride? She’d been putting her needs and feelings first.
God, please forgive me for being self-centered. Help me to think more about others rather than dwelling on my own pain.
As she prayed, some of her gloom lifted. And she saw even more clearly her sin of pride. Not only had she been immersed in self-pity, but being angry at God also stemmed from the same root.
Realizing this, Elizabeth wished she could fall to her knees to cry out to the Heavenly Father for forgiveness. But her cast kept her confined to bed for prayers. Surely God would understand. She prostrated her heart before Him.
Oh, Lord, I see now that my rage and my refusal to submit to Your will also stems from pride. I thought I knew better than You how my life should run. I wanted to take control and refused to accept this path You’ve led me down. I may never know why everything happened, but I surrender to You. Not my will but Yours be done.
A tidal wave of God’s love and forgiveness engulfed her, washing away her anger and replacing it with acceptance. And God’s comfort enveloped her. She’d blocked His love and support by refusing to surrender to His will. The sadness and heartache hadn’t been totally erased, but it had become more bearable because now she could lean on Him.
Elizabeth lay there for a while, basking in the warmth of God’s love and the wonder of Christmas.
Her heart lighter, she reached for her crutches. She selected a black dress from habit, then stopped. Today she was celebrating Christ’s birth.
Pushing aside her three black dresses, she reached to the back of the closet, where she’d shoved her four other dresses, the ones she’d worn when she was younger. Maybe the bright pink wasn’t suitable, but only family would see her today.
Putting on a cheerful color improved her mood even more. As a child of the King, she could celebrate today. She clicked down the hallway and out to the kitchen.
Cooking wasn’t easy when she was on crutches, but with her heart clean and light, Elizabeth set dough rising and started a batch of cookies before she made breakfast. Humming a hymn, she hobbled around preparing the recipes.
Once she finished baking the sticky buns, she’d call her parents to let them know she was coming for the meal. Her sticky buns and cookies were family favorites. She’d take those to make up for not helping to cook the dinner. Besides, with her crutches she’d only be in the way of all the hustling, bustling aunts and cousins in the kitchen.
She’d have to trek to Luke’s and ask to use the phone he kept in his backyard woodshop for business. Someone from her family would drive over to get her. She owed them all an apology for the fibs she’d told. She’d confess to Owen’s family too and spend Second Christmas with them tomorrow.
Two hours later as Elizabeth was balancing on one leg to pull the sticky buns from the oven, three loud raps on the front door startled her. She nearly dropped the pan and went tumbling after it.
She grabbed the edge of the counter to stay upright and slid the pan onto the wooden cutting board. She’d turn the sticky buns out after she answered the door. Most likely, Luke had broken his promise and come over to check on her. The thought made her spirits even lighter.
Sidling over to where she’d leaned her crutches, she almost tipped over a cooling rack of cookies. She shuffled to the door as quickly as she could, but when she opened it, nobody stood there. Instead, a carved wooden cradle sat gently rocking on the porch, the back of its rounded wooden hood facing her. Diapers, blankets, and baby clothes had been piled in the cradle.
Elizabeth squeezed her eyes shut to hold back the pain. How could anyone be so cruel?
Then her eyes flew open. That was her cradle. The one she’d donated to New Beginnings. Why had someone put it on the porch?
Tracks in the snow led to the woods at the side of Elizabeth’s house. There someone in a dark coat stood watching.
“Hey!” Elizabeth called out, but the figure turned and fled. “Wait!”
Elizabeth ventured a little farther out onto the porch. She slid on an icy spot and clung to the doorknob, hoping it would prevent a fall.
And then the bundle of blankets moved.
Chapter 11
A baby. There was a baby in that cradle under the mound of clothes and diapers. Taking a few cautious steps, Elizabeth moved forward to peek under the
wooden hood.
She sucked in a breath. Not one baby. But two. Twins.
Why had they been left on her porch? She’d discover that answer later. Right now, she needed to get them out of the freezing weather.
After hobbling back to the doorway, she leaned her crutches against the house and used the doorjamb to lower herself to the porch. Because of the cast, her leg stuck out in front of her, but she managed to lean forward and pull the cradle toward her.
Then she wriggled backward, dragging the cradle with her. After it bumped over the threshold, it moved more smoothly on the polished wooden floorboards.
As soon as the cradle was far enough inside, Elizabeth kicked the door closed.
After it banged shut, a voice called, “Elizabeth, are you all right?”
Luke. She’d slammed the door in his face.
She’d also left her crutches on the porch. I need to get up. But how?
Maybe she could pull herself upright by leaning against the wall. As she started sidling in that direction, Luke hammered on the door.
One of the babies wailed. The pounding must have startled the little one. Elizabeth scooted back to the cradle and lifted the crying infant.
A piece of paper fluttered to the floor.
Elizabeth put the baby over her shoulder and rubbed the little girl’s back. At least she assumed it was a girl from the pink sleeper. “Are you hungry, little one?” She didn’t even know the baby’s name.
She leaned over to see if the cradle contained bottles. A can of formula and several bottles had been tucked under the diapers and clothes.
A muffled “Elizabeth” penetrated the door.
She’d forgotten all about Luke. “Come in,” she called. “The door’s open.”
He must not have heard her, because he didn’t enter.
Elizabeth didn’t want to yell louder and disturb the sleeping baby. The one she held was still whimpering. Wrapping one arm tightly around the little girl, Elizabeth pushed herself toward the door with her other hand.
As she passed, the paper on the floor beside the cradle caught her attention. In bold printing, it said:
Amish Christmas Twins Page 14