by Mary Ellis
“You must come and bring the lantern. I believe a heifer’s been injured. Maybe she fell into a hole and broke her leg.” John’s tone conveyed alarm.
His brother, however, continued to wash the cow’s udder, unruffled by the news. “Jah, I heard the bellowing and investigated earlier. A heifer wandered into the high pasture to give birth. She’s in labor and things don’t seem to be going well for her.” Thomas glanced up with compassionate eyes, yet he resumed his ministrations from the stool.
“Are you just going to sit there? Why don’t we help her? The calf is probably breech and she can’t deliver. Daed used to turn the calf so it would be headed in the right direction. I’ve watched him do this.”
“It’s still pitch-dark. Cows usually drop calves with no help but from the Lord above. This isn’t good, John. It’s too late in the year for her to be birthing. The youngun’ probably wouldn’t make it through winter anyway.” With the udder clean, Thomas began milking with slow methodical pulls.
“So, because she didn’t use better family planning, we’re going to let her die up there? In pain?” He added the last two words in case Thomas didn’t quite grasp the situation.
Thomas nodded. “She’s been in labor all night while we slept. Believe me, I don’t like it any more than you do, but few vets make house calls and none will come this early, especially if their patient is up in the hills. She’s probably too far gone and won’t let anyone close to her now. You don’t want to get kicked in the head by a frantic heifer. Her uterus may have torn and she’s slowly bleeding to death. That’s why she separated herself from the herd—to die in peace.”
John slapped his hat against his pant leg, sending up a puff of dust. “It doesn’t sound very peaceful to me!”
Thomas offered a sad, patient smile. “All right. Go get what we’ll need while I finish up here. I’ll meet you either by the house or up in the hills.”
John hurried out of the barn to find someone else in case his brother didn’t come in time. The perfect person to help sat in the kitchen, sipping her first cup of coffee. “Guder mariye,” said Amy. “Finished with your chores already? We haven’t started breakfast yet. Sally’s still feeding Jeremi—”
“No, we’re not done, but could you help me in the high pasture? A cow giving birth is in trouble. I need someone to hold the light while I assist.”
“Of course I’ll come.” Amy set down her mug and hurried to the porch for her tall boots. While she pulled them on and grabbed an old chore coat, John hunted for what they would need. Within a few minutes they had two lanterns, rubber gloves, a plastic tarp, and two buckets of hot water. Then they started toward the far end of the Detweiler property, each holding a lantern high to light their way. Not fifty yards from the house, Thomas caught up with them.
“Danki, bruder. Three sets of hands are better than two.”
“Let’s hope they will be enough,” said Thomas.
“I don’t hear anything,” said Amy, as the first yellow streaks of dawn appeared in the east.
“I don’t either, and that’s a bad sign.” John closed the gate behind them and turned his gaze skyward to pray for the cow in labor. He asked for a successful delivery, for the restored health of the mother, and for a strong, vigorous baby that could survive a Maine winter. He prayed for creatures who couldn’t pray for themselves. Thomas was right. Nature often cleaned house, allowing weaker members to perish during droughts or to fall victim to wild predators. Even hungry coyotes have a right to eat in God’s kingdom. But he hoped that this particular cow and calf would not perish.
When they finally found her, she was not only still alive but no longer bellowing in pain. She was on her side with a heaving belly slick with sweat, complaining only when a contraction advanced the baby along.
John spread the tarp over the wet ground as Amy gently patted the animal’s soft head and Thomas stroked her flanks. After slipping on long gloves, John set about assessing her condition. He spotted the top of a tiny head, surrounded by four little hooves, poised to make a grand entrance. “We’ve no time to waste,” he said, dropping down next to her tail. “Stand behind me, Amy, in case I slide and need some leverage.” Thomas moved into Amy’s former place, holding on to the cow’s head. With Amy in position and Thomas helping to restrain the heifer, John bent his knees to brace himself against the ground and grasped the calf’s protruding legs. With each contraction, John pulled, the cow mooed, and a brand-new life inched into the world.
Amy held one of the lanterns over his head, while the other sat on a rock to his left. She murmured, “Oh, my,” not less than half a dozen times during the delivery. “I’ve never witnessed this before. Daed always asked for my cousins next door and then sent us girls into the house.”
“At least her uterus hasn’t torn,” declared Thomas.
“It won’t be long now.” John sounded giddy with excitement, like any proud papa. With no small effort, along with a great push from the heifer, John pulled the calf free on the next contraction. It plopped unceremoniously onto the tarp.
“Is it dead?” asked Amy, bending down to assess. “It’s not breathing.”
“Patience, dear one. Fetch me one of those long feathery weeds.”
“What?”
“Please, Amy. Bring me a weed and you’ll see.”
Amy carried a lantern to search the fence line and returned with an expression of accomplishment. “Here you go.”
“Watch this.”
Amy shone the light on the baby Holstein as John inserted the weed’s feathery end into the calf’s nose. He twirled it inside the nostril until he achieved the desired result.
Ah-choo! With a single sneeze, the calf expelled mucus from his nasal passages and took its first breath of autumn air.
“Praise the Lord,” exclaimed Amy.
“Praise Him indeed,” agreed Thomas. “I’m amazed.” He slapped John on the back.
Within an hour, both bovine mother and child were on their feet. She drank deeply from a bucket of cool water while the calf preferred fresh milk to quench its thirst. Weary yet exhilarated, Thomas, Amy, and John started down the long slope toward the house.
“I’m starving,” John said, dragging the tarp behind them.
“Me too, but first I want a long hot shower.” Amy swung her empty bucket like a milkmaid.
“I need to finish a few chores yet, so don’t use all the hot water, you two.” Thomas headed off toward the barn. “Good work, John, and thanks.”
Once they were beyond Thomas’s censuring eyes, John slipped an arm around Amy’s waist.
“You were wonderful. You saved her, and I was so proud!” Impulsively Amy leaned over and kissed him. Not a peck on the cheek but a full, on-the-mouth kiss—short, but infinitely sweet.
The sky opened above John’s head while angels trumpeted the astounding turn of events. Or…maybe the sun simply broke through the clouds and migrating ducks created a ruckus. Either way, he was one happy man as they walked through the pasture brushing shoulders. Inside the house, Amy headed straight for her shower. John pulled off his boots, cleaned their rubber slickers on the porch, and waited his turn to wash off the scent of cow.
When everyone was seated around the table with toast and eggs, Thomas cleared his throat to draw their attention. “You did good, little bruder. For your reward, I’ll muck out the horse stalls today. And that cow and calf are yours when you and Amy buy a farm. You now have the beginnings of a herd.” He scraped more eggs onto his plate.
“Danki, Thomas. That heifer and I have bonded. I can assure you she’ll never end up on anyone’s dinner plate.” John poured himself another cup of coffee.
“I’ll see you outside later. Oh, and no one got yesterday’s mail, so I brought it up.” Thomas nodded toward the counter.
John stared at the neat stack of mail folded inside the weekly newspaper. An ominous premonition robbed his joy as though someone had pulled a plug. He lingered in the kitchen until everyone left the room and
then thumbed through the letters and bills. Sure enough, at the bottom of the stack was a letter for Amy from the same Maine town. Without thinking, he tore open the envelope and began to read.
My dearest Amy,
I am grateful for your thoughtfulness. Seeing the letter in my mamm’s own handwriting warmed my heart, but I’m not sure why you sent the death certificate of Leon Hilty. His life or death is of no concern to me, although I hope the Lord will have mercy on his soul. My life is here in Chestnut with Will, where I am thankful for a fine home and good health. I will continue to pray for you each night. Please remember, our door will always be open should you ever decide to visit.
With loving regards,
Aunt Prudence
John’s hand cramped from his tight grip on the paper. Visit the home of a banned ex-Amish woman? Then the bishop might never agree to marry us!
On the other hand, he knew that not telling Amy about the letter was the same as lying. Plus, he had heard that destroying mail was against English law.
On and on his intellect warred with his emotions. If he showed her this letter, she would certainly find out about the previous one. And he would prefer going to federal prison than facing the woman he loved in shame.
With a shaking hand and a sick feeling in his gut, he opened the door to the woodstove and tossed the letter inside. Prudence’s words burst into flames and quickly disintegrated. A few minutes later, Amy returned to the kitchen with her hair dry from the living room fire. She flashed him a smile as she slipped on her kapp. John had never felt so unworthy of her love.
For the first time since those first grim days following the house fire, Amy couldn’t fall asleep at night. She tossed and turned, punched the pillow, and kicked off the covers. After twenty minutes of fitful dozing, she would awaken freezing cold and bundle up under the quilt. Then the whole process would repeat itself. She would climb from the tangled sheets, move her chair to the window, and pray until dawn. Each morning she asked for guidance and direction, yet her earnest prayers failed to bring her peace.
Finally, one late September morning, she realized what she had to do. “Wake up, Nora. We have a full day ahead of us.” Amy shook her sister gently at first and then with determination. Nora tried to bury her head, but Amy yanked back the covers. “I need to go to town today. How would you like to come with me?”
“You’re waking me this early for a trip to Harmony? I think I’ll pass and see you at supper.” Nora stuck her head beneath her pillow.
With one quick motion, the pillow flew across the room. “I thought you liked going to town. We can stop at the co-op.” Amy purred like a contented cat in someone’s lap.
Nora struggled to sit up, clutching the edge of the quilt. “Have you lost your senses, Amy? I’m cold. Let me sleep.”
Amy released her grip but not her determination. “Please come with me today. There’s something I must do that’s important, and I don’t want to go alone. Anyway, I thought you enjoyed spending time with Lewis when the store’s not busy. It could be a way to chat to your heart’s content.”
Nora stopped struggling and climbed out of bed. “That’s not a very good idea.” She shuffled barefoot to the wall pegs and then wrapped herself in her warm robe.
Amy retrieved the pillow from the floor and pressed it to her chest. “Don’t you like Lewis anymore? What happened?”
Nora leaned back on the door. “I still like him. He’s the sweetest man I’ve ever met.” She whispered her admission as though afraid someone might overhear.
“Then what’s wrong?” Amy knew instinctively she wouldn’t like the answer.
“If I let this go any further, I’ll end up here in Harmony for the rest of my life.”
“Would that be so bad?” Amy plumped the pillow into place and drew up the sheet and quilt.
“Jah, it would.” Nora crossed the floor to take Amy’s hand. “Stop making the bed and look at me.” Amy complied with the request. “As much as I love you, I can’t see my future here—not now, and probably not ever.”
For a moment Amy didn’t know what to say. In her heart, she knew every woman must make certain decisions on her own. Then she forced a smile. “Okay, I’ll stop needling you. Shall I arrange your trip back to Lancaster while I’m in town today? I need to consult schedules too, and they can arrange transportation to the bus station.”
Nora looked startled. “Lancaster? No, I’m not going back there. And why are you interested in bus schedules?” She plopped down ungracefully on the just made bed.
“I’d planned to explain along the way.” Because she’d discovered Sally’s fondness for eavesdropping, Amy lowered her voice. “But I might as well tell you now.” She sat next to her sister and whispered, “I’ve decided to visit Aunt Prudence.”
“How can you do that? She hasn’t even answered your letters.”
“Maybe she’s had no time to write. I’ll take a bus to her town. If there’s no bus route, I’ll hire a driver to take me. They will know at the co-op how to arrange a trip that far.” Amy formulated her plan as she talked, growing more confident by the minute.
Nora straightened her slumped posture. “Are you serious? Do you know how expensive this could get?”
“I don’t care. I have money from my share of the farm sale. John shouldn’t need my entire legacy to buy land.”
“He certainly shouldn’t. Besides it’s your money. What did he say about the idea?”
“It’s our money since we’re engaged, but I certainly have a say as to how some of it should be spent. Regarding my visit, he doesn’t know about it. I wanted to fine-tune the details before telling him. Otherwise, he’ll worry without cause.”
Nora scrambled to her feet, all thoughts of sleep forgotten. “I think it’s a wise choice to get your ducks in a row first. Will you travel by yourself?”
“How would you like to come with me?”
Nora pondered that for less than three seconds. “No, I don’t think so. Buses make me sick to my stomach and trigger migraines. How exactly will you find Aunt Prudence?”
“I’ll start with her last known address. If she’s not there, maybe a neighbor will know where she’s gone. I’m not a child. I’m sure I can track her down.”
“And if she moved to Kansas?”
“I don’t know where Kansas is, but I’m sure buses and trains go there too.”
“What if John says no when you tell him?” Nora appeared to be holding her breath.
“I’m sure he won’t, not after I explain how important this is. And it’s not really up for discussion anyway.”
Nora grinned and swept open their bedroom door. “Go down and help Sally with breakfast. I’ll be there as fast as I can. I’ve changed my mind about driving to Harmony. Whether I run into Lewis or not, this is one adventure I don’t want to miss.”
Within two hours and a minor amount of discussion about a trip into town, the two sisters were driving down the road at a good pace. Around them, farmers were preparing their fields for winter, even though October was still a few days away. Colorful leaves crunched under the buggy wheels while the trees glowed brightly from reflected sun. Both women had wrapped themselves in wool cloaks for the ride.
“This morning you mentioned you didn’t want to return to Lancaster,” said Amy, breaking the silence. “Have you given any thought as to where you would like to go?”
“If you report back that Chestnut is a beautiful town, maybe I’ll move there.”
“Be serious. You would know even fewer people there, and I know you’re lonely here in Harmony.”
Nora stared off at the distant hills that were less green than a week ago. “True, but I can’t go back to Mount Joy.”
“Why can’t you?” asked Amy, sensing that whatever had been lurking beneath the surface was finally about to be revealed.
“This past spring I made a mistake—one I’ve deeply regretted ever since. I met a boy at singings from one district over. He took me home a couple times. I
thought he truly loved me, so…I let things go too far.” Nora shrank down inside her cloak, becoming barely visible.
“And you discovered he didn’t love you?”
“No. He started taking someone else home from singings after I…surrendered to him.”
The enormity of her sister’s admission hit Amy like a brick. “You gave him what should have been saved for your future husband?” she gasped.
“I did.” Nora’s answer was flat and unemotional, as though she referred to someone else.
“Oh, no.” Amy’s response summed up all that could be said.
“I know. I’m sorry for what I did, but now you understand why I haven’t joined the church. And why I can’t go back home. What if he’s told people about my disgrace?”
“The disgrace also belongs to him. You didn’t engage in sin alone.”
“No, but it’s always worse for the woman.”
Amy couldn’t argue with that conclusion, despite the unfairness. She focused on the road, hoping for some insight as how to handle this. Unfortunately, none occurred to her by the time they reached the general store parking lot. “I don’t know how to advise you, Nora. During my upcoming trip I’ll pray for guidance—for the right path for you and for me.” Amy clutched her sister’s hand tightly. “We’ll find a way through this together.”
“Perhaps you two should continue this conversation in private.” Thomas’s announcement shocked everyone at the dinner table, Amy most of all. Thomas never let them spend time alone. Now he was sending them outside together?
The news about her trip to find Aunt Prudence had not gone over well.
John stood abruptly, almost knocking over his chair. “Jah, let’s take a walk.”
Amy exchanged a look with Nora and headed to the pegs for her outerwear.
After opening the door for her, he followed her down the steps. “So that is where you and your sister went spur-of-the-moment this morning. All the way to the bus station?”