[2016] The Precious Amish Baby

by Faith Crawford

  “Are you alright?” Aiden asked her, his hands on her face, checking to make sure she wasn’t hurt. He pressed his handkerchief to the small cut on her neck and then kissed her lightly.

  “I’m sorry I opened the door,” she said, through a sob. The tears she had managed to hold back were coming now. They poured down her cheeks as her body was wracked with sobs. “I thought it was you,” she continued through hiccups.

  “Don’t apologize,” he said. “You’ve done nothing wrong. None of this is your fault.” He shook his head as he pulled her close against his chest. “They’re gone now. We needn’t worry.” She buried her face in his chest, cursing her own foolishness. She did not deserve his kind words. She saw a flash of firelight outside and gasped as she remembered Cole. Had he done it? Was it possible?

  “What was that?” Aiden asked. There was the sound of many horses neighing, as Aiden took Emma by the hand and led her through the practice. Broken glass crunched beneath her feet as together they walked to the front door and then out onto the porch.

  Emma’s mouth fell open at the scene in the street in front of the house. Lit only by torches and lamps, Emma could see the bandits kneeling together on the ground. The sheriff, his deputies and a few other men sat on horses in a circle around them, their guns drawn.

  Emma let out a grateful sob when she saw them. Relief and fear mingled together. The tall thin bandit was leering at her with a fury she had never seen before. But it was fine now, she reminded herself. The sheriff had them. They would never come back and harm Aiden’s practice again.

  “You alright, doc?” the sheriff called over.

  “We’re fine,” Aiden said, as he walked down the stairs, leaving Emma on the porch. “How did you get here?”

  “Cole came to get us,” the sheriff answered, and then the boy appeared behind the posse, running up to the stairs and straight towards Emma. The doctor looked back at Emma in shock as she swept the boy up in a hug.

  “Did I do a good job?” Cole asked.

  “You did very well,” Emma answered, wiping her tears away and kissing the boy on his forehead.

  Cole ran to his father, and Aiden picked him up and spun him once before dropping him down again.

  “It’s been a long night for you,” the sheriff said. He jumped off his horse and walked towards the porch. Behind him, his men were clamping irons on the bandits as the rest of the families on the street came out to gawk. “You and your wife should go to sleep. We can get statements from you in the morning. And don’t worry, ma’am,” the sheriff said to Emma. “These men will be hung within the week. You needn’t fear any reprisal.”

  Emma nodded. The sheriff sounded oddly jovial when he mentioned the word hanging. Emma stared at the men as they were piled into a cart. A hanging. She swallowed nervously at the thought of it. She pulled her arms around herself and watched wordlessly as the men in the cart were led away.

  “Come inside, Emma,” Aiden said, taking her gently by the arm and leading her back into the house and upstairs to their bed.

  She was shaking, her fingers were numb and she could not undo the laces on her dress. She felt tired and drained and scared and safe all at the same time. It was overwhelming and exhausting. Seeing her struggle, Aiden walked to her and helped her out of her dress, loosening the laces and then guiding her into bed. She slept fitfully, dreaming of bandits and breaking glass.

  Chapter Seven

  The office was destroyed. Marybeth, Marie, Aiden and Emma spent the morning sweeping up glass and splintered bits of wood. It took all morning to just remove all the debris. They washed the blood off the floor and managed to find a few bottles of unbroken medicine. By late afternoon the office was cleaner, but bare. It looked half-empty,as ifthe previous owner left in a hurry.

  “I know a carpenter who can come in and replace the glass, and I’ll have to place orders for the rest of the medicine.” He gave a long,rueful sigh and said, “My patients will just have to go without.”

  “Lying thieves,” Marie spat. “I’ll be glad the day they hang. The world’ll be a better place with the lot like them finally gone.”

  Emma didn’t know what to say. She still felt responsible. She had been foolish and let them in. She was lucky to only have the small cut on her neck to show for her thoughtlessness. She kept glancing at Aiden, but she did not know what she hoped to see from him. Things had become strained between them. Every time she looked his way she would find him staring at her, but when their eyes met he did not smile. He just looked away quickly.

  “Should we go to the sheriffs and make a statement?” she offered quietly, after the cleanup was done.

  “I will go,” Aiden said. “I don’t want you anywhere near that place. If the sheriff wishes for your statement he can come and get it from you here.” His voice sounded bitter and angry. It was a tone she had not yet heard from him. He normally was kind and soft-spoken. Something in him had changed overnight.

  He is angry with me, Emma thought. He blames me for opening the door and allowing myself to be taken hostage. She looked around the wreck and ruin of the practice, wondering what fresh hell her foolishness would bring next.

  She followed him up the stairs and all the way to their room. She felt dumb and small. She was desperate for him to say something. His entire practice had been destroyed, his life’s work was in ruin and it was all her fault. She wanted him to scream and yell at her, but he only walked with a defeated slump.

  She wanted to be stronger than this. She wanted to be braver, but she didn’t know how to make herself be that way. She wished she had fought back like one of the girls in the comic books, the ones who dressed like men and fought atop moving trains. She didn’t want to be herself anymore.

  Aiden changed out of his dusty, dirty jacket and quickly cleaned himself up. As he washed, Emma hung back near the door, but once he began to dress she walked to him. There was something about removing the distance between them that calmed her. She stood before him and began to button his jacket. She could not bring herself to look up into his eyes. She could feel his tension. He was taut, like a bow that had been pulled back and was just waiting be released. He was impatient under her hands, fidgeting and looking past her as if he could not wait for her to be finished.

  She glanced up at him, but he was looking out of the window, and she dropped her eyes quickly. Once finished she found she had nothing to do with her hands and moved out of his way. Aiden took a few steps towards the door and then stopped and turned to face her. He straightened his jacket and cleared his throat.

  “Stay here today, Emma,” he said, finally looking at her. “Do not leave the house. Do not answer the door. I do not doubt that word has spread throughout the town. There should be no patients today. Do not open the door for anyone.”

  She nodded, but said nothing. Don’t open the door. It was a simple request, but one she was determined to fulfill. She needed to prove to him that she was strong, that he could trust her. She was terrified that he was beginning to regret marrying her. What if she had lost him when she opened the door to the bandit? What if he decided to send her away?

  She walked him to the door and handed him his hat before he left. He nodded once at her, but there was nothing. No kiss, no embrace, just a nod, and then he was walking down the stairs away from her. Emma closed and locked the door and then found herself alone in the house. She knew the servants and Cole were still there, but Cole was napping and the girls were hard at work. Emma was left in the silence with nothing to do.

  She paced aimlessly around the house. In the sitting room she ran her hand along the fine mantelpiece. Hung on the wall above it was a portrait of Aiden. It was a gift from the father of a patient Aiden had saved. She had been a young girl who came down with croup in her caravan. They were miles away from the city when she fell ill and by the time they arrived the young girl was half-dead. They had feared the worst, but Aiden had been able to bring her back. In the portrait Aiden was standing in front of a fence we
aring a dark suit. He was gazing past the artist and audience and towards some undefined thing on the horizon. He looked handsome and noble and she felt particularly small and grubby when she looked up at it.

  Listless and alone, Emma wasted the day. She couldn’t focus on any one thing. She tried to do some sewing, but she kept making mistakes and having to rip the threads out and redo them. Finally, she put her sewing aside and moved her chair near the window to wait for Aiden to return.

  It was near dusk when she saw his lone figure walking up the street. His long shadow stretched out in front of him. She stood up when he came back and went to door to wait for him, calling for Marie to prepare a cool drink. She stood near the door, wringing her hands as his heavy footsteps climbed the stairs.

  He entered and gave her a tired smile. She took his coat and bag and walked with him to the sitting room. He sat heavily in front of the cold fireplace and put his head in his hands. Emma poured him a glass of lemonade and brought it to him. She had nothing else to do with herself so she sat down in the chair next to him.

  “What happened?” she finally asked him. All day she had been wondering what it would be like at the station. Were the bandits there? Did they yell or scream? Did they fight?

  “The men are guilty. None of them deny it, but it’s worse than that.” He looked up at her and took a deep breath before continuing. “The gang is wanted for a murder and a train robbery. They have been causing chaos all over the territories. They are to be hung by the end of the week.”

  Emma took a deep breath and sat back in her chair. She remembered the gaunt bandit who had held the knife to her throat. The smell of him, his stained teeth. She shuddered at the memory. Still, a hanging. She had heard of such things but had never in her life been so close to one.

  “There is a reward,” the doctor said, clearing his throat. “Since Cole is the one who reported it to the sheriff, the money is ours.”

  “How much?” Emma asked. She wasn’t sure how to react. She couldn’t celebrate the death of these men, and it seemed wrong to her to profit from it.

  “Five thousand dollars,” he answered. Emma coughed on her lemonade when she heard the figure. She took a moment to catch her breath.

  “That’s a lot of money,” she whispered. She couldn’t image that much money. What would they do with all of that?

  “Yes. It will pay for all the damage to the practice and then some.”

  “I guess that’s good news,” Emma said. But there was a hesitation in her voice. It wasn’t good news really. She would have gladly traded that money back if it meant the bandits had never come. She should have been grateful they were to be hung, because it meant they would never come back, but her stomach squirmed at the thought. Her father once said that if done wrong hanging was one of the worst ways to die.

  She felt guilty, as if were her fault that the bandits had to hang. She had opened the door and allowed herself to be taken hostage. Would things have been different if she had left the doors closed? But had she done that, they would have escaped and would be free to come back.

  “How did the bandits react when they heard their sentence?” she asked.

  “They thought it all a great joke. They laughed as their crimes were read and they took great pride in who had the most charges. They laughed when the sheriff mentioned the dead men from the train robbery. It became a competition, each one of them bragging about what they had done. Murder, fights.” He stopped and looked up her, and then put his head down. “I was glad you were safely at home.”

  An awkward silence fell between them. She had no way to break it. She had nothing to say. All she wanted to do was apologize, but she had done that already and no doubt he was tired of hearing it. She wanted to reach for him, but her hand was encased in rock and would not move.

  Emma stared into the dead ashes of the fire, wondering if she should call Marie to set a new one. Perhaps some light and warmth would cheer them up. She looked at Aiden, wishing he would do something or say something. But he only stared into the distance and crossed his arms.

  “I’ll go and see how dinner’s coming along,” Emma said, standing and walking out of the room. She looked back at him when she was at the doorway. He had stood as well, but he wasn’t leaving the room. He was just standing near the window and looking down at the street.

  If only Emma could crack open his skull and see what he was thinking. He was so quiet and reserved. Only yesterday she had been sure of where she stood with him. He loved her, and she loved him. Today everything was different, and she had no idea what to say or do to return things to how they used to be.

  She felt a wave of nausea come over her and pass just as quickly. The stress of the recent days was starting to get to her. She felt tired all of the time now. If only they could get past it. If only they could go back to where they had been before. But she was like a wanderer lost in a forest at night. She had no idea which was the right way to go.

  Chapter Eight

  The doctor woke early the next morning. He had an order of medicines coming in. It wasn’t enough to refill his entire supply, but it would at least help. Emma barely heard him leave. A tiredness had come over her and she could not rise from bed. She awoke feeling terribly sick. She dared not move, convinced that if she did she would be sick all over their bed.

  “Are you alright, ma’am?” Marie asked, when she came to check on Emma around nine in the morning. “I’ve never known you to sleep so late.”

  “I do not feel very well,” Emma admitted. Marie placed a hand on Emma’s forehead.

  “You don’t feel hot, but you don’t look very well either. Let me make you some tea and toast. Perhaps you’ll feel better after you eat.”

  Emma nodded and watched the woman leave. It felt strange to be the one being taken care of. It was not her job to care for numerous siblings anymore. Now when she was sick she could just sit back and not have to worry about anyone.

  Marie brought her toast and tea and little Cole followed. He climbed up into bed and she gave him a piece of buttered bread. He came with one of his comics and she sat and read to him. After an hour or so she felt surprisingly better, if a little tired. She could hear the door to the practice opening and closing as Aiden’s patients came and left.

  She felt sick for the next few days, but always she managed to shake it off and go about her day. She resisted telling Aiden about her illness. He already seemed so worried and unhappy, and she didn’t want to add to that. Her illness was ill-defined anyway. At certain moments it was unbearable, but at others she felt perfectly normal. She guessed she ate something that disagreed with her. She wore a strong mask, refusing to let Aiden sense that anything was wrong with her.

  ***

  He had only grown more distant in the last few days. Often she would see him sitting in a chair near the window, but he didn’t seem to be looking at anything. He was just staring and thinking.

  Emma didn’t know how to close this new distance between them. She felt strange and awkward in front of him. Their easy rapport had disappeared and she was worried it would never come back. She longed to run to him and throw her arms around him, but she was terrified of being rebuffed.

  She counted down the days to the hanging. Friday at noon. The time kept creeping forward. The days kept passing, despite her wish for them to stand still. She learned that Aiden would have to attend the hanging. He was the local doctor; he would be the one to pronounce the men dead. He took no pleasure in this role, and anytime Emma tried to speak to him about it he quickly changed the subject.

  Friday morning came, and again Emma found herself feeling sick in bed. She pushed through it, ignoring her nausea and tiredness and getting up and dressed as if it were any other day. Aiden was dressed already. He was wearing a dark suit. His face was devoid of emotion.

  She sat up in bed and looked at him. He stood serious and well-dressed in his black suit. He shaved his face slowly, dipping his blade into the bowl to clean it. She had a thousand que
stions to ask him. What was it like? What would happen to the men? How long would it take? The hanging was public, but Emma had not thought about going herself.

  “I will be back before supper,” Aiden said, and she nodded at him. She felt like she should have said more. She should have comforted him in some way, but she didn’t know how.

  “Alright,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. He nodded and then stepped out of the door. She opened her mouth to call to him, but she had nothing to say, or maybe she had too much to say and there wasn’t time. It was too late, anyway. He was already walking down the stairs.

  The days of the week had hurried past, but now that Friday was here the clock would not move. She felt terribly guilty about not saying more to Aiden before he left. He was her husband. She was supposed to support and help him and instead she had let him go to this horrible thing and her only words were ‘alright.’

  The town was abuzz with the news of the hanging. She could hear snatches of conversations from the street below. Men and women spoke of their plans to go. There was an air of excitement that confused and frightened her. She didn’t know how people could be excited about what was going to happen.

  She paced around the house. She bothered Marybeth and Marie as they tried to go about their work. Cole’s reading was coming along nicely and he was far more concerned with his comics than anything happening outside. She was like a wild animal trapped inside and desperate to get out.

  She couldn’t take it anymore. Was Aiden alone? Was he struggling with what he would soon have to do? And what of the bandits? What were they thinking now that their lives were on the line? Did they regret their threat to her? Would she have felt better or worse if she knew?

  The street below was crowded with people hurrying and jostling to the town’s center square. Finally, Emma could take it no more. She slipped into her shoes, grabbed her parasol and slipped quietly down the stairs, telling no one where she was going.