by Marta Perry
“William has been hurting all this time. I talked to him every day, and yet I didn’t understand that. How could I have been so blind? I should have seen, should have talked to him about it.”
“I doubt you could talk him out of loving you, Rachel.” Gideon paused, seeming to weigh something in his mind. “You should know something that William confessed to me.” He stared down at his bandaged hand. “William saw us, the night of the singing. He saw us kiss. That’s why he damaged the windmill platform.”
She couldn’t speak, but she could feel the tide of embarrassment sweep through her.
Maybe misinterpreting her silence, Gideon hurried into speech again. “Understand, Rachel, he’s miserable about it. Seeing me get hurt was enough to bring him to his senses.”
She cleared her throat. “Gut.” It was all she could manage.
“It will be better once he confesses at the next worship. Better for him, better for all of us.”
The act of public confession was difficult, doubly so for William, with his stammer, to have to kneel and confess his fault before the church. If Bishop Mose thought the bann was justified for a time, all who were present would have to agree.
Ich bin einig, I am agreed, each one would say, with varying degrees of pain and sympathy.
And then, when it was over, William’s sin would be as if it had never been.
“I should confess, too.” The words burst out on a wave of pain. “I didn’t see.”
“That is foolish, Rachel. Yours is not the sin. You couldn’t have known.”
But she still felt it.
Gideon cleared his throat, maybe feeling that they’d waded into water that was too deep. “Are you better now? No one has seen you for the past few days, I hear.”
“Ja.” She forced a smile. “I must be all right. The advertisements are already in the paper about the nursery opening on Saturday, and there is much to do.”
He nodded toward the buggy. “You’re going to pick something up for the opening, then?”
“Not now. I’m on my way to Leah’s. The family is going to a farm sale over near Fostertown, and I told Daniel I’d stay with her. And I must be off, or she’ll be wondering where I am.”
She turned away, but he stopped her with a hand on her arm. His touch seemed to heat her skin right through the fabric of her sleeve. He snatched his hand away. Did he feel it, too?
“One thing—I’ll be finished up here in another day’s work, probably, depending on the weather.” He shot a glance at the clouds that were massing along the western horizon. “I start a new job next week, putting in windmills for Elias Bender.”
She turned her face away on the words, hoping he couldn’t see her expression. Well, what had she expected? He would finish the job for her and move on.
Her smile seemed to stretch her face. “We will not see so much of you then.”
“No.”
And that was it. They would be friends, and she must be content with that. Gideon didn’t want anything more.
“Are you sure another batch of pretzels is really necessary?” Rachel paused before adding the butter to the pan of scalded milk. “Haven’t we already made enough?”
They had been baking all afternoon, it seemed, and still Leah wasn’t satisfied.
“We may as well do another while we’re making them.” Leah sprinkled coarse salt over a tray of pretzels and slid it into the oven, glancing at the clock to note the time. “I want to have a nice treat for Daniel and the children when they get home. And you must take some for your family, too.”
“We’ll have enough for most of Pleasant Valley, it seems to me.” Rachel set the pan aside to cool a bit before adding the yeast. “Not that I don’t enjoy making pretzels with you, but I think you’re overdoing it already.”
Leah touched the batch of pretzels that was cooling on a rack. “I have to be doing something. I’ve been cooped up too long. Every time I move, someone tells me to rest. The children are as bad as Daniel is.”
“They love you,” Rachel reminded her. “That’s not a bad thing, having people who want to take care of you.”
“I know.” Leah’s mouth curved in the smile that Rachel had come to think of as her “mother” look. “I just feel so restless today.” She grabbed a cloth and began to wipe the table with quick, hard strokes.
“You know what I think, Leah Glick? I think this baby is going to arrive soon. I remember the day before Mary was born. Ezra found me in the cellar, rearranging all the canned food alphabetically ”
That brought on the laughter she’d hoped for. Leah sank into a kitchen chair, chuckling. “Ach, I can just see you doing it. Well, if it is a sign, I’m glad of it. I’m ready to meet him or her.” She patted her belly.
“At the risk of getting hit with a pretzel, I’m going to suggest you sit awhile. Have something to drink. Eat a pretzel.”
“I am thirsty ”
“I’ll get it—” she began, but Leah had already gotten up again.
She poured a glass of tea from the pitcher on the counter and added a sprig of mint from the bowl on the windowsill. Rachel watched her, torn between amusement and frustration.
“Now will you sit down?”
“I will.” Leah made her way back to the chair and took a sip. “I think we’ve talked about everything imaginable this afternoon except about the situation with William. Would you rather not?”
“It’s all right.” Rachel dried her hands slowly, staring out the window absently. The rain that had begun shortly after she arrived continued without pause. Her plants could use it. “It’s just all so sad. Poor William. I should have seen he was getting too attached to me.”
“I wondered how long it would take for you to start feeling that it was your fault,” Leah said. “You are not responsible for William’s emotional needs.”
“I suppose not, but I wish I could help him. He’s too embarrassed even to talk with me about it now.”
“Isaac is embarrassed, too, according to what Daniel has heard. Has he come to talk with you?”
“No. I wouldn’t expect him to.”
“Maybe not.” Leah considered that, frowning a little. “Still, I hear he’s dropped his complaint to the bishop.”
“He has? Are you sure? No one has said anything to me.”
“Maybe no one wanted to bring it up, but I’m sure as can be. Daniel heard it direct from Bishop Mose.”
“Well, that is a relief.” Rachel sank down in the chair opposite Leah. “I haven’t slept easy since I heard about it.”
Leah patted her hand. “Now you can. Unless you’ve found something else to worry about.”
“William, of course.” She sighed. “I wish I could help him find a girl to love, but he wouldn’t welcome my help.”
“Much as we all like to matchmake, some things are better left to the Lord. William is still smarting from his jealousy of Gideon.”
“Gideon is being so kind to him. I just wish he could be as forgiving to himself as he is to other people.”
She bit her lip. She shouldn’t have said that. It was Gideon’s private business.
“You love him, don’t you?” Leah’s voice was gentle, filled with the love she shared so freely.
There was no use trying to pretend. Leah knew her too well.
“Ja, I do. But it’s no use.”
“Don’t say that.” Leah gripped her fingers. “You don’t know that. Maybe Gideon thinks it’s too soon after Ezra to say anything to you.”
Rachel shook her head, her eyes filling with the tears she was determined not to shed. “It’s not that. It’s something deeper in himself that keeps him from loving again. All he wants from me is friendship. That’s all he’ll let himself want.”
“Rachel—”
“No, don’t.” She managed a watery smile. “I know you want to encourage me, but this time it’s no use. I know that now, and the best thing I can do is get over these feelings. So you see I really do know how William feels.”
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br /> “I’m sorry.” Only two words, but they bore a world of caring and sympathy.
“It will be all right.” She glanced at the clock. “I’d best check on those pretzels.”
“I’ll do it,” Leah said, predictably.
“Sit. I have it.” Rachel pulled the tray out with a hot pad, glad of something to do that would change the subject. She set the tray on the waiting rack. “They’re just perfect.”
“Gut.” Leah started to get up, one hand on the back of her chair. “I think—”
The chair rocked. Heartbeat rushing, Rachel reached toward her friend, but she was too late. Her hand grasped empty air, and Leah fell heavily to the floor.
“Leah!” Rachel rushed to kneel beside her. “Are you all right? Does it hurt anywhere?”
Leah shook her head, grimacing a little. “Only my pride is hurt, that’s all. You’d think I could at least get up from a chair. I told you I was going to need a crane pretty soon.”
“Take it easy.” Rachel got one arm around her. “Slowly. Don’t rush. I’ll help you.”
“I’m all—” Leah bit off the words with a gasp. She clutched her belly, eyes wide and frightened as she looked at Rachel. “The pain—Rachel—”
“It’s going to be fine.” She could only hope her words sounded more confident than she felt. “Is it a labor pain?”
Instead of answering, Leah grabbed Rachel’s hand and put it on her belly. She felt the contraction, hard against her palm.
She forced a smile. “I guess so. I told you this baby would be coming soon. ”
“But—it shouldn’t start this hard, should it?”
The contraction eased, and Rachel glanced automatically at the clock. Keep her calm, that’s what she had to do. Time the pains, and hope that nothing bad had happened when she fell. And pray that Daniel would come home soon.
“Everyone’s different.” She hoped she sounded reassuring. “Haven’t you had any contractions at all today?”
“No.”
“Now, stop thinking about all those descriptions in your books of how childbirth is supposed to happen. Remember, the baby didn’t read any of them.”
That brought a smile to Leah’s face. “I guess not. Maybe I should try to get up, and we can start timing the contractions.”
“I already have.” Rachel slid her arm around Leah again. Hopefully she had enough time to get Leah comfortably situated before another contraction came. “Let’s get you up and—”
She felt the contraction almost as soon as Leah did. Leah’s face contorted as she struggled to remember her breathing exercises. “It’s too fast,” she gasped. “Rachel, why is it so fast?”
“You’ll be fine,” she soothed, stroking Leah’s cheek. “You’ll be fine, don’t worry.”
All very well to say don’t worry, when her heart twisted with anxiety. Why was it this fast? In all the tales women told about their babies’ births, she’d never heard of someone starting in labor with contractions so hard and so close together.
The contraction eased at last. Leah lay back, panting.
“Do you want to try to make it to a chair or the bed?”
Leah shook her head. “I’m afraid. Something is wrong.”
“We don’t know that.” Rachel scrambled to her feet and grabbed a cushion from the rocker, returning to ease it under Leah’s head. “But we need to tell someone what’s happening. I’ll help you through the next one, and then I’ll run across the field to your parents’ house ...”
Leah was shaking her head. “No one’s there. They all went to the sale, too.” She grabbed Rachel’s hand in an anguished grip. “What are we going to do?”
“We’re going to be calm.” Although she felt anything but calm inside. “Where is the nearest phone shanty? I’ll have to go and call for help.”
“My midwife’s number is on the counter.”
“Ja, I’ll take it, but I think this babe is coming so fast that we can’t wait for a midwife. Paramedics can get here quicker.”
“I don’t—” Another contraction cut off whatever Leah was going to say, and she clung to Rachel and breathed.
Murmuring nonsense, anything soothing that came into her mind, Rachel held her, stroking her while she watched the clock.
Leah lay back again, white and exhausted, and shook her head. “The phone is clear at the far side of my father’s back pasture. It will take too long—Rachel, don’t leave me. What if the baby came while you were gone?”
“I know, I know. But we need help—”
“Daniel will come soon. I know he will. The rain probably slowed him down. He’ll go for help.”
“Yes, yes.” Anything to calm the panic in Leah’s face.
Father, guide me, please, guide me. If I make the wrong decision, I could put Leah and the baby in danger. Hold them in Your hands, Father. Keep them safe.
“Pray for my baby,” Leah whispered.
“I am.”
“Out loud, so I can hear.”
Rachel nodded. She stroked Leah’s belly gently. “Our Father, we come to You now. We reach out for Your hand. We’re afraid, and we need to feel Your presence. Be with us now, and protect Leah and her baby. Keep them safe and well.”
And show me what to do, she added silently. Please, Father, show me what to do.
“You’re going to be fine—” she began, and then stopped.
“A buggy!” Leah started up and then sank back. “Daniel-run and tell him.”
Rachel scrambled to her feet and raced for the door. She plunged outside, to be hit by a shower of water as the wind blew the rain toward the porch.
“Rachel!” A man slid down from the buggy. But it wasn’t Daniel. It was Gideon.
“Your mamm was worried. Asked me to check—” He stopped, registering the expression on Rachel’s face. “What is it?”
Rachel grabbed his arm and tugged him to the door. “Leah’s in labor.”
He drew back instinctively. But that was foolish. He had to do what he could. “I’ll go for help.”
“Ja, you must. Her folks aren’t home, so best to go to the nearest phone and call the paramedics.” Still she pulled him into the kitchen. “First help me with Leah.”
“Better I should go—”
Leah lay on the floor of the kitchen, her face contorting with pain. But he didn’t see her—he saw Naomi, lying in the road...
Rachel rushed to Leah, grasping her hand. In another moment Leah sank back on a pillow, her face easing.
“Gideon is here. He’ll call 911, but first he can help me get you onto the bed, so you’ll be more comfortable.” She glanced back at him, looking surprised, maybe at the fact that he’d backed himself flat against the door. “Komm.”
That was a command, not a request. Forcing himself to focus, he strode to them and squatted down. “Show me what to do.”
“We’ll wait until after the next contraction. Then just slide your arms under her and lift her.” She jerked a nod toward what he thought was a storage room next to the kitchen. “That’s all ready for the delivery and the first day or two, so Leah won’t have to go up the stairs.”
Leah inhaled, eyes widening, and all Rachel’s attention went back to her. “Here it comes.”
He would have retreated, but Leah had grabbed his hand, squeezing it, and all he could do was hold on and send up wordless, incoherent prayers.
When the contraction finally eased, he felt as if he’d been put through a wringer.
“Now,” Rachel said.
He slid his arms around Leah, half-afraid to touch her, and cradled her against him as he rose.
“In here.” Rachel pushed the door open, moving swiftly to turn down the covers on the single bed that took up much of the small room. “This will be much better. You’ll see.”
She continued to talk, soothing Leah, he supposed, until she was settled on the bed. Leah sank back against the piled pillows, sighing.
“That’s better.”
“Ja.” Rachel strok
ed her forehead. “You rest while I get a lamp. We’ll need more light, since your boppli decided to come on such a gray day.”
She caught Gideon’s elbow and guided him back into the kitchen. He had the sense that she barely knew it was him. Anybody would do in this situation.
“I’ll go right away.”
She didn’t let go of him. “Be sure they understand that it’s an emergency.” She’d lowered her voice with an anxious glance at the door. “She fell, and the labor came on sudden and hard. Pains are only two minutes apart already. They must come at once.”
Something’s wrong, Gideon. Naomi’s panicked voice sounded in his head. Something’s wrong. I’m going to lose the baby—I just know it. You have to get me to the hospital.
“I’ll make sure they understand.” He clasped her hand in a quick, firm grip, but he couldn’t find the right words. “Da Herr sei mit du,” he murmured, and headed for the door. The Lord be with you.
He hit the steps at a run, crossed the yard, and threw himself into the buggy. Joss seemed to recognize the urgency, starting off instantly at a quick pace.
Concentrate. Think about what you must do, not about the past. Never about the past.
They reached the road and turned left, into the driving rain. Thank the gut Lord there weren’t cars on the road, though if there had been, he might have flagged someone down, asked to use a cell phone.
Too much time explaining, probably. Get to the phone shanty, make the call. He knew just where it was, at the far end of Leah’s parents’ pasture, accessible by another narrow lane. After this, Daniel Glick would probably be putting one in considerably closer.
Unless he was mourning—
No. Don’t think that, not now. Leah would be all right, her baby, too.
Rachel had been frightened. No one else would guess that, masked as it was behind the brisk command she’d taken of the situation. But he had known—had felt it in the grip of her hand, as if they were connected at a place deeper than words.
The rain drove in his face, stinging like ice. Joss plunged sturdily on.
Gideon narrowed his eyes. They’d passed the lane that led to the Beiler farmhouse. The one to the phone shanty would be coming up pretty quick.