The Amish Midwife's Hope

by Barbara Cameron

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2020 by Barbara Cameron

  Cover design by Elizabeth Turner Stokes. Cover illustration by Trish Cramblet. Cover copyright © 2020 by Hachette Book Group, Inc.

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  First Edition: November 2020

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  ISBNs: 978-1-5387-5160-2 (mass market), 978-1-5387-5162-6 (ebook)

  E3-202001014-DA-NF-ORI

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Glossary

  Recipes

  Discover More

  Book Discussion Questions

  About the Author

  Also By Barbara Cameron

  For Uncle Harvey and Aunt Delores. He inherited the family farm and she made it a home.

  Both welcomed my family and me into their home many times during the summers. Whenever I write about a farm, I remember theirs…

  It was there in Indiana that I first glimpsed the Amish traveling about in their buggies. It led to a lifelong fascination and respect for these gentle people.

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  Chapter One

  Rebecca Zook held the squirming boppli in her arms and decided nothing could possibly be better than being a midwife and helping to bring new life into the world.

  She wrapped a blanket around the boppli and gently placed him in his mudder’s arms. “You have a beautiful sohn.”

  “Look at him, David,” Lovina whispered as she ran a finger down her kind’s cheek. “So tiny. So perfect.”

  Her mann stroked his sohn’s hair. “Here at last. And both of you safe and sound. Danki, Rebecca.”

  Rebecca smiled. “You’re wilkumm.”

  An hour later, with the new mudder and kind cleaned up and resting, Rebecca sat to make her notes on the delivery. It had been a long night but a relatively easy one. Lovina had sailed through her first pregnancy and although she’d labored nearly eight hours, she’d done so with few complaints. She’d been a midwife’s dream patient.

  Exhausted but relieved, Rebecca said her goodbyes and then left and began the walk home. The temperature had dropped a good ten degrees since she’d been called. A brisk fall wind caught the shawl she wore and fluttered it. Rebecca shivered and glanced up at the gray sky. It looked like rain was coming soon. She prayed she was safely home before then.

  She heard the clip-clop of horse hooves as a buggy came to a stop beside her. “Rebecca, can we give you a ride?”

  Turning, she stared up at Samuel Miller. Then she glanced toward the back of the buggy where his six-year-old dochder, Lizzie, watched her with an expression that was too serious for a kind.

  “Nee, danki,” she said. “I’m fine.”

  “It’s going to rain.”

  “I should make it home before then.” But just as she said it, a large, cold drop of water hit her face.

  “Please, get in, Rebecca,” Samuel told her. “I don’t want you to get soaked and catch a cold.”

  “That’s an old fraa’s tale. You don’t catch a cold from getting wet.”

  “Rebecca, please?”

  She stared up into his eyes and saw the concern there. Resigned, she climbed into the buggy.

  “Danki,” she felt compelled to say.

  “You are so very wilkumm.” His tone made it clear that he knew she didn’t really want to accept the ride.

  As the buggy started to move, Rebecca tried but failed to stifle a huge yawn.

  “Long night?”

  She nodded.

  “You just came from David and Lovina’s haus, didn’t you?”

  Lizzie leaned over the seat, eyes bright with excitement. “Did Lovina have her boppli? What did she have?”

  Rebecca smiled. “A sohn. Eight pounds, seven ounces.”

  “And Lovina’s allrecht?”

  Rebecca saw Samuel’s jaw tighten. She turned in her seat to face Lizzie. “She’s very well. Mudder and boppli were sleeping soundly when I left.”

  “Lizzie, please sit down properly,” her father said.

  He glanced at Rebecca and started to say something, when she saw him freeze. Following the direction of his gaze, she caught sight of the drop of blood on the apron she wore over her dress. When she looked back up at him, the color had drained from his face.

  “Lovina is fine,” she said quietly.

  “So you said.” He stared straight ahead.

  As silence stretched between them, Rebecca studied his profile. He was a handsome man with a long, straight nose and high cheekbones. The tan he’d gotten from farming was fading. He wore a black felt hat that hid his hair, but she knew it was a rich mahogany color.

  He glanced over and pinned her with his dark-blue eyes before she could look away. She turned in her seat again to talk to Lizzie and frowned when she saw the kind looking sad as she sat scrunched in a corner of the back seat, holding a doll in her arms.

  The buggy came to a stop and Rebecca was relieved to find that they were parked before her home.

  “Danki for the ride.”

  He nodded in response.

  She twisted around to wave at Lizzie. “Bye. See you Sunday at church.”

  “Bye,” the little girl said softly.

  Rebecca looked at Samuel. “Is she allrecht?”

  “Feeling a little under the weather. That’s why I kept her home from schul today. Taking her along on some errands so I don’t have to ask my neighbor to watch her since her family’s just over the flu.”

  She got out and looked back inside the buggy. “Hope you feel
better, Lizzie.”

  “Danki,” she said, sounding forlorn.

  As they rode away, Rebecca let herself into her house. The big kitchen felt cold and empty. She always felt a mixture of joy and sadness when she delivered a boppli. While she was happy to help new life come into being, it brought up memories of losing her chance to have a kind. With a tired sigh, she set her bag down and shed her shawl and bonnet. Food, a shower, then bed, in that order.

  She fixed herself a sandwich, put the kettle on for a cup of tea, and sank into a chair, almost too tired to eat. But a body couldn’t run on empty, and she never knew when she would be called out again. So she forced herself to take a bite, chew, swallow, then take another bite and another. Her appetite came back quickly and she finished the sandwich, then rose to dig a couple of cookies out of the jar.

  A long, hot shower worked the kinks out of her shoulders. She dried herself quickly, pulled off the shower cap, and padded into the bedroom to don a warm flannel nightgown. She grimaced when she glanced in the mirror over her dresser and saw how wan and tired she looked. Sitting on her bed, she brushed out her long blonde hair and braided it. She needed a nap; then she’d see about catching up with some chores.

  Exhausted, she stretched out on the bed but found she was unable to sleep. How ironic to run into Samuel Miller when she avoided him as much as possible. Her mind drifted back to the time she’d first met him. He’d moved here from Indiana with his dochder a few months ago. He’d introduced himself to her at church and a few weeks later he’d asked her to go to lunch. They’d chatted easily over the meal and gotten to know each other. Discovering they were both widowed had been an initial bond.

  Samuel had told her about growing up in Indiana and recently inheriting his onkel’s farm here in Paradise. He’d visited his onkel a number of times over the years, and when he’d found out about his inheritance, he felt he and his dochder could get a fresh start here.

  She told him about growing up here and about her love for her work as a midwife. And that’s when she had felt a distinct chill. He’d driven her home after lunch instead of going for the ride to get to know the area as they’d discussed. Only later did she find out that his fraa and the boppli she carried had died during childbirth.

  Ever since then he’d avoided her. She understood but it still hurt.

  She’d grown up hearing that God set aside a man for a woman. She’d felt an immediate attraction to Samuel—the first time she’d felt such since her husband, Amos, died—but it was obvious she’d been wrong that he felt the same.

  Maybe she wasn’t meant to get married again or have a kind. Maybe she was destined to walk through the rest of her life without love now that Amos was gone.

  * * *

  Samuel frowned as he guided the buggy back onto the road. Lately it seemed that he kept running into Rebecca.

  He’d been so attracted to Rebecca soon after he moved here. He recalled how their gazes had locked across the room where the church service had been held. She had big brown eyes, and while a delicate blush crept up her cheeks as they stared at each other, she hadn’t looked away. She was direct but not flirtatious when he introduced himself.

  It wasn’t easy to make the effort to ask her out—it was a new experience, dating, and in his new city as well. But when he finally took her out for lunch, he’d enjoyed her company greatly and had looked forward to spending more time with her during their drive afterward.

  Then she mentioned that she was a midwife.

  The last thing he needed was a reminder of how he’d lost Ruth.

  He knew that Rebecca hadn’t been responsible for Ruth’s death. They’d been in Indiana when his fraa experienced problems with her pregnancy. Two years had passed since that awful night he’d lost her and the tiny boppli they’d both looked forward to so much.

  “Daedi?”

  He pulled himself from his thoughts. “Ya?”

  “I’m hungerich.”

  “You said you didn’t want breakfast, remember?”

  “I wasn’t hungerich then.”

  “But you are now?”

  “Ya. Very much.”

  Samuel saw Lizzie’s favorite fast-food restaurant just ahead. He was certain she had, too.

  “I’m schur I’d feel much better if I had something to eat now.”

  “I’m schur,” he said dryly. Perhaps he shouldn’t give in to her but he couldn’t help it. When he pulled into the drive-through lane and put in her order—no need to ask what she wanted since he knew her so well—and a cup of coffee for himself, she stood and wrapped her arms around his neck.

  “Danki, Daedi!”

  “You’re wilkumm,” he told her, trying not to smile. “Now, sit down. You know the rules.”

  “Sorry.”

  She looked penitent for all of two minutes. He paid for the meal and pulled forward to the next window. When he turned and handed her the bag, her face lit up.

  “Happy now?”

  “Ya, danki, Daedi!” she cried as she took it from him.

  “Don’t spill the juice.”

  “I won’t.”

  Samuel held the reins in one hand and sipped his coffee as they rode home. Maybe he was being overprotective keeping her home when she said she didn’t feel well. But he couldn’t help it. He’d lost her mudder. He couldn’t lose her.

  “Daedi?”

  “Ya?”

  “Want a bite of my hash brown or my biscuit?”

  Samuel smiled. “Nee, lieb. But danki.”

  Lizzie seemed to have adjusted to their new life but he still worried about how she missed her mudder. Every kind deserved to have one to love her. He sighed. A man should be able to protect those he loved, and he hadn’t been able to. He’d raged at God at the double loss, had been angry with Him for more than a year.

  Finally, it had become too difficult to carry the weight of that anger every day. And when he’d come upon Lizzie sitting in a corner of her room silently rocking her doll, tears running down her cheeks, he knew he had to set aside the anger and the grief and be the dat his daughter needed.

  Samuel smiled when he pulled into the driveway and turned to see Lizzie dozing in the back seat. But true to her promise, she hadn’t spilled her drink. She still clutched it in one hand. He got out and leaned in to take it from her hand, set it aside, then lifted her in his arms.

  “Daedi,” she murmured, as she smiled sleepily at him.

  He pressed his lips to her forehead, and to his relief he found it cool. The slight fever she’d woken with had gone. He carried her into the house and up the stairs to her room. She snuggled into her bed, her arm wrapped around her doll, and slept on. He pulled her quilt up over her and tucked her in securely.

  He went back outside to unload the horse feed and the goods he’d picked up in town. Then he unhitched the buggy, led Tom to his stall, and took care of some repairs. When Lizzie came downstairs after a long nap, she looked tired still but was hungry for macaroni and cheese. She didn’t seem to have much energy even after her meal, so she settled down on the sofa with a book. It looked like she might have to stay home from schul another day, he mused.

  He went out to the barn to do his afternoon chores and, after a couple of hours of work, was ready for a break and another cup of coffee. While the coffee perked, he rummaged in the refrigerator and decided to make Lizzie’s favorite soup and sandwich for supper. He wasn’t the best of cooks but he was pretty good at making a grilled cheese sandwich. The tomato soup was from a can but she liked it.

  The day had been long and it wasn’t over yet. As he settled at the table with a mug of coffee, he wondered how other single eldres managed. Samuel missed being married—missed the companionship and sharing the joys and sorrows of life. He wanted Lizzie to have bruders and schweschders.

  He needed a fraa.

  Abram, the local bishop, thought so, too, and had been quick to say so not long after Samuel had arrived. Marriage was encouraged in the Amish community and it was believed k
inner were a gift from God. Both made for a strong, stable community.

  And he wanted them both so much. But needing and wanting…well, he wasn’t entirely sure he was ready for a new fraa. It was a big step to open his heart, to love again.

  Lizzie wandered into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes sleepily. “Hi, Daedi.”

  “Hi, Lizzie.”

  She climbed up into his lap and snuggled. He smiled as he held her. She was growing up so fast. How much longer would she want to be held like this?

  “Can we go see Lovina’s boppli?”

  Surprised, he leaned back and stared at her. “You want to see her boppli?”

  She nodded.

  “Not for a couple of days, Dizzy Lizzie.”

  She grinned at the nickname. “Not Dizzy.”

  “Nee?”

  “Nee,” she told him positively. “Daedi, I’m hungerich.”

  “Again?”

  Lizzie nodded vigorously.

  He pretended to sigh. “Let me see if we have any food, little piggy.”

  She slid off his lap and ran around the kitchen snorting like a piglet.

  Samuel rose and began preparing supper. He got the ingredients out for sandwiches and soup. Schur enough, Lizzie was delighted with his choice for the meal. When they’d finished eating, she settled at the table with paper and crayons and chattered happily with him as he washed the dishes. Sometimes he wondered when she’d stop talking so much, but when he remembered how silent she’d been for too many months after Ruth died, he wasn’t going to try to quell her.

  After a bath with lots of bubbles and a bedtime story, she was sleepy again. Before he reached the last page, she fell asleep and the house was quiet.

  Samuel went out for a last check of the horses in the barn. Usually this chore relaxed him, but as he walked past his buggy, he thought about his unintended encounter with Rebecca earlier that day. He found himself wondering what she was doing. He had his work with his new farm and the company of his kind during waking hours, and he was forming new friendships. Rebecca had her work and her family and friends. But when the end of the day came, did she feel lonely for her late mann? Did she ever think about getting married again like he did now?