by Amy Lillard
“You’re right. It is the thought that counts.” She shot him a smile to show that she had completely forgiven her aunt for the crazy gift. “She died a couple of years ago.” Her voice turned wistful. What she wouldn’t give for one of those gelatin molds this year. Wasn’t that how it always went?
“My mamm always makes a gelatin mold. She says it’s a family tradition. It’s sort of pretty, I guess—dark red cranberries with oranges and pecans in it.” He shook his head. “Nobody eats it but her.”
“No one?” she asked. “It sounds sort of good to me. Does it not taste good?”
He shrugged. “I never tried it.”
Tillie stopped. “Wait. You won’t eat it, but you never tried it because you don’t think it’ll be good, but yet it looks pretty?”
“Okay, the truth of the matter is I have trouble with gelatin.”
“Trouble?”
He shook his head. “You’ll laugh.”
Tillie eyed him skeptically. “Of course I won’t laugh. What sort of trouble?” She knew there were people who were allergic to peanuts and citrus and all sorts of things. Shellfish and such. She’d never heard of anyone being allergic to Jell-O.
“It wiggles.”
She stopped again, eyed him to see if he was actually telling the truth. He looked serious enough. “What?”
He sighed. “I said it wiggles. Food shouldn’t wiggle.”
Tillie couldn’t help it; a bark of laughter escaped her. She clamped one hand over her mouth, but the giggles still came. “You won’t eat it because it wiggles.” It wasn’t even a question.
He shot her a stern look. “You promised you wouldn’t laugh.”
She shook her head as tears sprang into her eyes, tears of mirth and laughter. “I didn’t promise. But you have to admit that is really funny. I don’t know a soul who won’t eat food that wiggles. I guess cold gravy is out.”
He made a face. “Why would anyone want to eat cold gravy?”
“Point taken.” But she still couldn’t help the chuckles escaping her. And all the while she tried to think of other foods that wiggled. “Pudding?”
He held his hand out and tilted it from side to side. “Depends. Some pudding is not so trustworthy.”
She laughed again. “Untrustworthy pudding. I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“Maybe we should go out to eat and I’ll show you some.”
At his words they both stopped.
“I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.” His whole demeanor changed. His shoulders had grown stiff and his back like a board as if he knew he had crossed a line.
“I didn’t take it that way.” But how should she take it? It seemed as if he too had come to enjoy the seclusion that they had. For a time they had locked out the world, not so they could be together, but more so they could be alone. It just so happened to be that they were with each other. What’s a person to do about that?
They looked at the other a moment, then Tillie jumped as a knock sounded at the door. They’d been so engrossed in their conversation that they hadn’t seen or heard anyone arrive. She whirled around and looked out the window. “It’s the police!” she exclaimed.
Levi pushed to his feet and made his way to the door.
She had made it seem like they were doing something they shouldn’t be, but she had been surprised that anyone had arrived. How had she been so captivated in a conversation with Levi that she hadn’t seen a patrol car pull up outside?
“Levi Yoder?” the uniformed officer asked.
Levi nodded and stepped back to allow him to enter the house.
“I’m Brian Carmichael. I’ve been out checking on all the Amish folks since the roads have been so bad. I just came to see if you were okay. We have a record that you called the nonemergency number about a Miss Tillie Gingerich.”
Tillie jumped to her feet. “I’m Tillie Gingerich,” she said.
“Your folks have been worried about you,” Officer Carmichael said with a smile.
“Is there a way that you can tell them that I’m okay? I know Levi left a message at my sister’s store. She has a phone.”
“I’ve been out to see your folks,” Carmichael said. “And they know you’re fine. But that doesn’t stop a mother from worrying, now does it?” There went that smile again. He was young, maybe in his early twenties, with twinkling brown eyes and slashing dimples. He wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, so Tillie figured he was single. But with his sweet demeanor and cute smile, she had a feeling that wouldn’t be his state for long.
Tillie returned his smile. “I suppose not.”
Carmichael checked his notepad and tucked it back into his pocket. “And I suppose your mother is anxious to see that new baby I heard about. Do you need me to take you to the hospital? I can arrange for an ambulance right now.”
Tillie shook her head. “No, thank you. I’m fine. Everything went fine. I’m just anxious to get home.” Add that to her list of lies.
“I can arrange a patrol car to come and get you. I still have rounds to make before dark. But someone can get you home if you want.”
If she wanted. The one thing she wanted was to stay locked into this fake dreamland she had created for herself with Levi Yoder. It was most ridiculous, and she needed to correct that situation as soon as possible.
“My sister Leah will come get me.”
Carmichael nodded. “I believe I still have her number if you would like me to call her for you.”
Tillie wanted to yell No! She wanted to stay right where she was, and if he could arrange for a couple of feet of snow to go on top of the ice, that would be great. Instead she nodded. “Yes, thank you.”
“And you’re sure about the hospital? It’s no trouble to get an ambulance for you.” He looked over to where baby Emmy lay snuggled in her little fabric chair on the coffee table. She had been there most of the morning, sleeping and growing and just being beautiful.
Tillie knew what he was thinking. Everything looked okay, and there didn’t seem to be any cause for concern on his part.
“No, I’m fine. My sister will be enough.”
“Then I’ll let you be. Thank you for calling, and if you need anything else you know how to reach us.”
Levi nodded. “Danki,” he said and shook the officer’s hand.
A moment later Carmichael was out the door and seated in his patrol car, no doubt trying to reach Leah to tell her that Tillie was ready to go home.
The trouble was Tillie was nowhere near ready to leave.
* * *
He remembered when he was little taking a bath in a warm tub of water filled with bubbles. Some would rise and he would poke them with his finger. They would pop with small bursts, then disappear. That was sort of how he felt right then. How had he managed to let himself become so ingrained with Tillie and her baby? If anyone had told him two weeks ago that this was going to happen, he would have laughed in their face. Or at least told them to go to the doctor; that they were crazy. Even crazier than his sweet old aunt who ate the gingerbread house each Christmas.
Tillie turned to him with an expression he couldn’t read. “I guess I should get my things together,” she said. “If I know Leah, she’ll be out here in a heartbeat.”
He cleared his throat, which suddenly felt tight. “I’m sure your mamm is ready to see you and make sure that you and that baby are okay.” It was understandable. What mother wouldn’t be worried about her child and her grandchild? What mother wouldn’t be worried about her grandchild who was born in the middle of an ice storm?
“I’ll get you a bag.” He started toward the baby’s room. But she grabbed his arm.
“I didn’t come with anything.”
He nodded. “But you’re leaving with a baby who has things that she’s going to need.”
She shook her head. “I can’t take your things.”
“I’ve been needing to get rid of some of this for a while. I would love for you and Emmy to have it.”
�
�All we need is the blanket and the clothes she’s wearing. We’ll take care of the rest on our own.”
After all she had been through, now she wanted to be prideful? “Please let me do this, Tillie.”
At his beseeching tone she stopped, seemed to wilt a little in place. “Only if you’re sure,” she said.
“I am.”
She released his arm and he walked into what would’ve been his son’s room. He was oh so aware of Tillie right behind him.
“I don’t suppose you brought any baby things with you when you left . . . Columbus.” He couldn’t quite bring himself to say Melvin’s name. He was disappointed in the man. He had a wonderful woman like Tillie, a beautiful baby like Emmy. Granted, he hadn’t seen the child, but he had known she was coming. And he knew that Tillie wanted to leave. So why even after a week was he still not there?
Levi supposed the man could still turn up. It was Christmas, after all, and a season of miracles.
He had known Melvin before. Just a little. And he knew that Melvin was one of those born in the wrong place. Just like some people dreamed of being Amish, some Amish had dreams of the English from the very start. As far as Levi could tell, Melvin Yoder was one of those people.
“No.” The one word was small and held more meaning than fit into letters. And he knew without her telling him that there were no things she could’ve brought. There was no money for them in the first place and no room where she lived. Somehow he knew.
He picked up the black-and-white diaper bag that Joy, Mary’s sister, had given her. “It’s used,” he explained. “But most of the stuff is. Not the diapers, of course. Mary’s family brought most of this over when she found out she was going to have a baby.” He stuttered over those last words. Not from pain of loss, but simply because pregnancy wasn’t something men and women talked about. Not even married couples discussed such matters regularly.
“I appreciate it,” she said. From her tone he couldn’t tell if she noticed his hesitation or not.
He placed the bag on the fancy English changing table that Mary had insisted on buying at the flea market and began filling it with diapers. “I’m just happy that someone is getting some use from these things now.” And it was the truth. Somehow putting these items to use lessened his pain and gave a jump start to his healing.
He added a couple of thin blankets and one made from the soft fleece fabric Mary had bought at the store in town.
“But—” Tillie moved toward him. “That looks handmade.”
He knew what she was saying—commercially made socks and little nightgowns weren’t as intimate as something that Mary had made for their baby. But that baby was gone and this baby was here.
“I think Mary would want you to have it.” Mary’s baby was in heaven with her and warm enough for sure.
Tillie swallowed hard, then gave a small nod, and Levi put the blanket into the bag. A couple of hats, the knit kind to keep the baby’s head warm, a few more pairs of impossibly small socks, and a stack of what Mary had called onesies. The gowns went in as well.
“If there’s anything else you’d like to have . . .”
“You’ve been more than generous,” Tillie said.
“It’s been my pleasure.” And it was. As strange as it seemed, he had wanted to cut himself off from the world, and he had, but he had thought to do it alone. Instead he was with a woman and a baby who somehow changed everything for him. It was true he still felt the pain of loss, but the thought of Mary and the baby now didn’t make his heart bleed. Somehow Tillie being in his house with Emmy enabled him to separate the two: Mary and their baby in heaven and Tillie and her baby here. So strange the difference a couple of days can make.
Or the power of God.
The last was more likely. He hadn’t prayed for much since Mary and the baby died, but he was sure Mims had, and he could probably blame all this on her. Then again, she might like that. He smiled.
“What is it?” Tillie asked.
He supposed he looked something of a fool standing in the middle of an unfinished nursery, holding a tiny pair of baby pajamas and grinning like a fool. He shook his head. “Nothing. Nothing at all.” He put the pajamas in the bag and handed it all to her. Then he reached down and picked up a package of disposable diapers. “I suppose you should take this too. You’re gonna need them, and who knows when you’ll be able to get out.”
“I never dreamed the baby could go through so many diapers. And I worked at a day care center.”
He tilted his head to one side. “That’s what you did in the English world?”
She nodded. “I enjoyed it, but it doesn’t pay much, and . . .” She didn’t finish. And he didn’t have to have her spell it out for him to understand. Quitting school at fourteen didn’t make for easy transition into the English world, where education seemed to be prized above almost everything else. Employers didn’t take into account the home education the Amish kids received after they quit going to school. How Amish girls were taught to be wives and Amish boys were taught in trade, farming, and such. Had his baby been born, Levi would’ve taught him how to work with leather. Just as Tillie would teach Emmy to can food and quilt and make clothes and all the other things that girls did. Tillie didn’t say as much, but he understood. Without Melvin, she wouldn’t be able to make it in the English world, and without Melvin, she wouldn’t be able to make it in the Amish world. So where was she going to go from here?
Chapter Eighteen
“Tillie!” Leah screeched as she came through the front door about an hour later. “My goodness! We’ve been so worried!”
Leah wrapped her in a bone-crushing hug and rocked them back and forth as she held on.
“I’m okay.” Tillie returned her sister’s squeeze, then pulled away. “Would you like to meet your niece?”
Leah nodded, then turned toward the coffee table, where Emmy rested in the fabric seat.
“She’s perfect,” Leah breathed.
Tillie had to agree. She would admit that she was a little biased, but every time she looked at Emmy, it was as if the world was sitting there wrapped in a little yellow blanket, sleeping peacefully. She supposed Emmy was. Her world, at least.
“And you named her Emmanuela?” Leah said. “That’s an awfully big name for such a sweet little girl.” That was Leah, never holding back.
Tillie was barely aware of Levi hovering behind her as she approached her sister once more. “We’ve been calling her Emmy.”
Leah nodded. “I like that. That fits.”
“Just a form of Emmanuel: God is with us.”
“Christmas.” Leah smiled at Emmy. “I guess she wanted to spend Christmas here this year.”
“I guess so,” Tillie murmured.
“Baby’s first Christmas,” Leah said. “Can I hold her?” She was already reaching for the snaps and buckles that kept Emmy in the chair.
“If you wake her up, she’ll want to feed.”
Leah stopped, but only for a moment. “Is that a problem?” She looked from Tillie to Levi, then, as if sensing her mistake, turned back to Tillie once more. “She’s eating, right?”
Tillie nodded. “Like a little pig.”
Leah sighed with relief, then continued her mission to hold the baby. “My goodness,” she said as she snuggled Emmy close to her. She turned the baby in her arms so she could see Emmy’s face. “I can’t believe how beautiful she is. So tiny and perfect.”
“That’s what I said.” Levi nodded.
Leah turned to him, still snuggling the baby close to her. “I can’t thank you enough for the help you’ve given Tillie. We’ll be forever grateful.”
Tillie felt her face heat up, and she knew she was as red as a Christmas poinsettia.
“I’m just glad I was here to help,” he said.
He seemed genuine enough. And he acted as if he was glad they were there. Not at first, of course, but now he did. And now they were leaving.
“We need to get her in the car seat, and we�
�ll head out. Mamm wanted to come, but since I was already in town at the store, I didn’t run by the house to get her first. She’s champing at the bit to see you and this baby.”
Tillie nodded. “I’m sure,” she murmured.
Leah picked up the baby carrier she had dropped as she walked in the door.
“It’s used,” she said. “But clean. And I was assured that it’s never been in a wreck. So hopefully it will be just fine for this little one.” She shook her head. “What am I saying? I’m going to buy a brand-new one tomorrow.”
Levi chuckled and shook his head at Leah’s antics.
“My goodness,” Leah said again. She gently placed the baby in the carrier and tried to strap her in. Emmy, disturbed from her rest, started to fuss.
“Oops.” Leah looked to Tillie. “I suppose she wants to eat now?”
Tillie shook her head. “Probably, but she can wait a little bit. Give her the pacifier and see if that helps. Maybe she’ll go back to sleep.”
“Good idea,” Leah said. “Babies love to ride in cars. I’m sure she’ll be asleep in no time.” She continued to buckle Emmy into the car seat. Levi picked up the diaper bag he’d filled earlier and handed it to Tillie.
“Leah’s right,” Tillie said. “There will never be enough that we can offer you to show our thanks for helping me. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”
“You would’ve been just fine,” he said. “But I’m so glad I got to be a part of it.” There was a strange light in his blue eyes. Tillie had no idea what it meant. But she had to admit that Levi looked happier than he had the whole time she had known him. She supposed that was the power of a baby and a Christmas miracle.
“Well, thank you anyway,” Tillie said. “From the bottom of my heart, I thank you.”
Levi just smiled.
She supposed You’re welcome would be a little awkward to say in a case like this, but his smile was enough.
“I’ll take these to the car for you,” Levi said, holding up the half-empty bag of diapers.
“And I’ll wash the dress and have it back to you—”
Levi shook his head, cutting off her words. “Keep the dress. You may need it while you’re here.”