Amish Christmas Blessings: The Midwife's Christmas Surprise/A Christmas to Remember

by Marta Perry;Jo Ann Brown

  Finally he nodded. “If you feel you can forgive me, that’s all that counts. I hope we can be friends again.”

  Anna forced herself to smile. “Friends.” That was all she could manage, but it seemed to be enough.

  Ben clucked to the horse and they turned back toward the farmhouse.

  * * *

  Ben did his best not to fidget as the three-hour Sunday morning service drew near the end. He’d been trying to efface himself, in the hope he could fade into the mass of black-coated men. What a wimp he’d turned into while he was away—after all, he’d grown up sitting on the backless benches for worship, and he didn’t even remember thinking it was that hard.

  Hard was definitely the word for this bench. He shifted his weight slightly and earned a frown from his eldest brother, Daniel. Dan had always felt responsible for the younger ones, and that didn’t seem to have changed. His greeting had been restrained, and he’d glanced at Daad as if taking his cue from him. Joseph, so close in age to Daniel that they might as well have been twins, had followed his lead, but as they’d lined up to enter the basement when worship was being held, Joe had given him a quick smile and a wink that warmed his heart.

  You didn’t expect this to be easy, he reminded himself. It seemed he was saying that a lot lately.

  The final prayer, the final hymn, and the long service was over. Bishop John King, passing close as he moved through the congregation, inclined his head gravely. Ben nodded back, guessing what the bishop was thinking—that if Ben intended to stay, he’d have to make his confession before the church. It was an intimidating thought, but the forgiveness granted to the sinner afterward was sincere and complete. The wrong was wiped out as if it had never been.

  Daad put a hand on his shoulder. “Not until you’re ready,” he said softly. “Meantime, help the boys set up the tables for lunch, ja?”

  Ben’s throat tightened. Daad, for all his strictness with his boys, had always seemed to understand. If he ever had a family, would he have that gift? If.

  “Here, Ben, give us a hand.” Joe and Dan were making short work of converting the benches to the tables that would seat them for the after-church meal. “Or have you forgot how?”

  Ben grinned at the familiar joshing and grabbed the end of the table Josh was struggling with. “Josh and I will get more done than you two. Come on, Josh.” Together they raised the wooden planks easily, fitting them into the brackets that turned them into tables. Typical Amish ingenuity, he thought. The benches and tables had to be hauled from one home to the next for services, so why not make the best use of them?

  Already some of the women were carrying bowls and platters down the stairs from the Fisher family’s kitchen. Each family took a turn to host worship, but it only made sense to do winter worship at a home that had a warm, dry basement instead of a barn.

  They were finishing the last table when Ben spotted Anna coming down, her arms around a huge coffee urn. Anna had made it easy for him to forgive himself for the hurt he’d offered her. At least he didn’t have to worry about that. So why didn’t her rational acceptance make him feel more content?

  “Let me take that.” He discovered he’d moved to help Anna before he’d consciously decided on it. He grabbed the urn. “It’s heavy.”

  For an instant she resisted, but then she let go and smiled. “Over here on the end of the table,” she said, gesturing to the long table that was already becoming covered with the fixings of the after-church lunch.

  He set it down in the spot she indicated. “I see...” Ben lost his train of thought when he heard his mother’s name, coming from a small knot of women a few yards away.

  “...saying that it’s not fair for Elizabeth Miller to just stop doing her home visits. She’s our midwife, and she shouldn’t be pushing us off on someone second-best, like Anna Zook.”

  Ben recognized Etta Beachy’s strident voice even though her back was to them. Obviously some things didn’t change. Etta was known as the biggest blabbermaul in the church district.

  He didn’t realize he’d taken a step toward the woman until he felt Anna’s hand on his arm. She shook her head.

  “Don’t say anything,” she murmured. “Your mamm wouldn’t like it, and I don’t need defending.” Her smile flickered. “Your mamm would say that the irritating people in the church are sent to teach the rest of us patience.”

  Ben gave a reluctant nod. Anna was right, and that sounded exactly like his mother. But still, he didn’t like to hear the woman talking that way about Mamm. And what made her so sure that Anna was second-best?

  It seemed he’d lost some of his patience while he was living Englisch. He put his hand over hers and squeezed it lightly. “If so, Etta fills the role to perfection, ain’t so?”

  Anna tried to suppress a giggle and didn’t quite succeed. Her eyes danced even as she shook her head at him.

  How could he have ever thought her plain? When her face lit with laughter, she had an elusive beauty that intrigued him.

  Whoa, don’t go there. He eased his hand away from hers. “Denke. For keeping me out of trouble.”

  She glanced away, and a slight flush rose in her cheeks.

  “And imagine that Ben Miller, sitting in worship like he belonged there.” Etta apparently wasn’t finished with his family yet. “He ought to be in the penitent seat. Why hasn’t he confessed?”

  Interestingly, two of the women had drifted away, maybe not wanting to be associated with Etta’s views. The one who was left tried in vain to shush her with an agonized glance in their direction.

  To Ben’s surprise, he felt Anna stiffen at his side. Was she really angrier at the slight to him than at the reflection on herself? Of course, knowing Anna, he suspected she wouldn’t admit to being angry at all. But she couldn’t deny the way her eyes snapped or the flush on her cheekbones.

  Oddly enough, that amused him. “Relax,” he whispered. “I’ll show you how to deal with the Ettas of the world.”

  Not looking back, he strode over to Etta and her embarrassed companion, hearing a small gasp from behind him.

  “Etta Beachy. It’s nice to see you after all this time.” He produced a smile. “And this must be Sally Fisher, ain’t so?”

  Sally nodded, her color high. “Gut to see you home again, Benjamin. Wilkom back.”

  Etta, obviously not sure what he might have overheard, pressed her lips together into a thin line. For a moment he thought she wouldn’t say anything, but then she gave a short nod. “Your mamm must be pleased to see you after all this time.”

  “Three years,” he said, determined not to let her ruffle him. “I see you haven’t changed a bit.” Still as big a blabbermaul as ever, he thought.

  Something that might have been a chuckle escaped Sally. He nodded to each of them before heading for the table where Daad and his brothers were waiting. But on the way he couldn’t resist a glance back at Anna.

  She shook her head at him, but her eyes twinkled. Maybe he’d taken the sting out of Etta’s comments for her.

  Another thought struck him as he took his place at the table and he thought again of her reaction to the criticism of him. Perhaps Anna wasn’t quite as indifferent to him as she wanted him to believe.

  Chapter Five

  The snow was gone from the roads by the time Elizabeth and Anna set out for the Beachy home on Monday afternoon. A brisk wind ripped snow from the trees and sent it swirling in front of the buggy horse who plodded patiently on. Anna was glad of the blanket over their knees, and she tucked it in more snugly.

  “Are you sure you want me to be with you on this visit?” she asked, hoping she wasn’t repeating herself. “I mean, Etta and Dora might feel freer to talk if I’m not there.”

  “I’ve never noticed anything keeping Etta from talking,” Elizabeth said. She took her gaze from the road lon
g enough to study Anna’s face. “Are you worried that I won’t agree with you?”

  “Not worried, exactly.” But Etta’s comment referring to her as second-best seemed lodged in her mind, despite Ben’s efforts. “I’ll be glad to have your opinion. Maybe I’m wrong, and if so...”

  Elizabeth startled her by reaching over to grasp her hand. “None of that, now. Whether we are right or wrong in a particular situation, we must always take the course that’s safest for the mammi and the boppli.”

  “Even if it makes me look foolish?”

  “Even so.” Elizabeth smiled. “And not just you. I mind one time when I was so sure I’d heard a second heartbeat. I told the parents, and they rushed around borrowing an extra cradle and getting more blankets and diapers.”

  “And?” She suspected how this story was going to play out by the way Elizabeth’s eyes twinkled.

  “Nobody was more surprised than me when I delivered one big, healthy boy. I never have figured out what it was I heard that day.” She chuckled. “I was a long time living that down, believe me.”

  Anna squeezed her hand before letting go. “You’re just trying to make me feel better.”

  “Is it working?” Elizabeth asked innocently.

  They were both still laughing when they drove up the lane to the farmhouse.

  Etta must have been watching for them. One of the boys ran out to take the horse and offer a hand to help Elizabeth down. Anna jumped down herself, her sturdy shoes landing on the hard-packed snow of the lane. She picked up the medical bag and followed Elizabeth to the back door.

  “Komm in, komm in.” Etta was there to greet them. She gave Anna a sidelong glance and addressed Elizabeth. “We didn’t know you were both coming.”

  Elizabeth’s smile didn’t falter. “I think it best if both of us see every patient a few times. We’re partners, after all. If one of us should be busy with another mammi when someone goes into labor, we should both be familiar with the case, ain’t so?”

  Etta didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t argue, to Anna’s relief. Was she feeling a bit guilty after being caught gossiping? Or wondering if Elizabeth had heard about her criticism of Ben? It was certain sure Elizabeth hadn’t heard it from either her or Ben, but very often she seemed to know what was happening without being told.

  The two of them shed their outer garments, hanging coats and bonnets on the pegs near the back door. Rubbing her palms together, Elizabeth moved to the gas heater in the corner.

  “Dora won’t want us touching her with cold hands, ain’t so?” She smiled at Dora, sitting near the heater in a padded rocker. “How are you feeling?”

  “Fine, fine.” Dora glanced at her mother-in-law. “Mamm Etta is taking gut care of me.”

  Etta beamed. “Ach, we’re all wonderful happy about the baby coming.”

  There was a little more chitchat, restrained on Etta’s part and careful on Anna’s, but Elizabeth chattered normally, drawing Dora out on the progress of her pregnancy. It was fascinating to see Dora relax and gain assurance under the influence of her warmth.

  That was a place where she needed to improve, Anna decided. Conquering her natural shyness was a day-by-day battle, but she had to keep at it if she was going to be the midwife Elizabeth was.

  They all adjourned to the bedroom, where Elizabeth gave Dora a swift, deft exam. Anna, holding the girl’s hand, saw the apprehension in her eyes. “It’s all right,” she said, patting her shoulder. “Everything is fine.”

  Catching the words, Elizabeth looked up and smiled. “That’s certain sure. It won’t be long until you’re holding this little boppli in your arms.”

  “How soon?” Etta chimed in.

  Elizabeth chuckled. “Komm, Etta, you know better than to ask me to pinpoint the birth date. All yours were a bit late, as I recall.”

  “For sure. I thought James was never going to get here.” Etta shot a glance at Anna, as if to say, you see?

  “’Course Dora isn’t going to take after you. Could be anytime from two weeks early to two weeks late and still be normal.” She patted Dora’s belly. “Just let us know if you start having any contractions or even feeling not quite right. That’s what we’re here for, and one of us will always come.”

  Dora nodded, her small face relaxing, and she smoothed her hand over her belly protectively. “James and I pray for a healthy baby, whenever it arrives.”

  “Gut. That’s the best way to think.” Elizabeth nodded to Anna. “We’d best be on our way. It’s turning colder, I think.”

  Naturally Etta didn’t want to let them go without giving them coffee and cake, and they finally compromised by taking a thermos of coffee with them.

  “It’ll be most wilkom on the way home,” Elizabeth said, and pushed Anna gently out the door.

  The wind caught them as they left the shelter of the porch, and they scurried to the buggy that James had ready and waiting for them. In another moment they were on the road home.

  “Brr.” Elizabeth tucked the blanket more firmly over them. “It’s turning colder. The snow will stay to make it a white Christmas, I think.”

  “That sounds lovely to me.” Anna glanced at her. “But tell me the truth. You don’t agree with me about Dora’s baby coming earlier, do you?”

  “You heard what I told Dora. Besides, babies have a mind of their own when it comes to that. Still, I can see why you think it.” Elizabeth gave a little nod. “Dora is carrying low and in front, just like her mamm did. Makes her look as if the little one is about to pop out. But hers usually arrived right about their due date.”

  Anna nodded, a little relieved though still wondering. “It’s a shame Dora’s family moved out to Ohio when they did. She’d like having her mamm here.”

  “I’m sure that’s so. Although Etta was a bit less opinionated today than she usually is. I almost asked her if she were sick.”

  Anna was surprised into a laugh. “Ach, I shouldn’t laugh at her, but...” She stopped, thinking it might be best not to bring up the subject of Ben’s encounter with Etta.

  “Something happened after worship Sunday, ain’t so?”

  “How...” Anna stared at her.

  “How do I know?” Elizabeth finished for her. “Because I have eyes in my head.” She sighed, staring straight ahead toward the horse’s ears. “I was keeping watch on Benjamin, of course. Couldn’t help it—I wanted so much for him to feel as if he fits in again.”

  Anna’s mind stumbled over how to respond. “I don’t think he would be upset by anything Etta might say. He knows what she’s like.”

  “Ach, sometimes I have thoughts that aren’t very Christian about that woman.” Elizabeth clutched the lines so tightly that the mare turned her head to look back, as if asking why.

  “I know. But Ben took it in stride. He even had me laughing about it.”

  “I’m wonderful glad you were with him. You always seemed to understand Ben so well.” Elizabeth reached out to clasp her hand. “Please, just keep being a friend to him. Encourage him. He needs that right now. Will you?”

  Be a friend. Encourage him. And how was she to protect her heart while she was doing that?

  But she didn’t really have a choice. She squeezed Elizabeth’s hand. “Of course I will.”

  * * *

  “Slide in there.” Ben’s brother Daniel gave him a nudge that sent him along the bench at the back of the schoolroom a few nights later. Dan and his wife, holding their two young kids, came in after him, pushing him farther as the rest of the family piled in behind them.

  It was the night of the Amish school Christmas program, and even though the family no longer had kinder in the school, they wouldn’t think of missing it. In fact, there was about as good a turnout for the program as there was for Sunday worship.

  Dan pressed him a bit more as
he made room, and Ben found himself crunched up against Anna. Not that he minded, but he wasn’t sure how Anna would take it. However, she just smiled and slid her coat under the bench to make a bit more space.

  “Close quarters,” he murmured. “Looks like the whole church is here.”

  “For sure. No one would want to miss seeing the scholars say their Christmas pieces.” She reached out as Dan’s two-year-old, Reuben, wiggled his way over adult knees to reach her. “Want to sit on my lap?”

  He nodded, one finger in his mouth, and gave Ben a sidelong look as if not sure what to make of this new onkel of his. When Anna lifted him, he snuggled against her, still staring at Ben.

  Anna ruffled the boy’s corn silk hair and whispered to him. “That’s Onkel Ben, remember? Can you give him a smile?”

  Reuben pulled the finger out of his mouth just long enough to produce a smile, dimples appearing in his rosy cheeks. Then, apparently stricken by shyness, he buried his face in the front of Anna’s dress.

  Ben wasn’t sure whether to find it funny or not. “Guess he’s not ready to accept me just yet.”

  “He’s a little shy, like most two-year-olds,” Anna said. “Give him time.” She stroked Reuben’s head lightly. “Besides, it’s already past his bedtime.”

  “I won’t push.”

  That had to be his motto for everything about his return. Relationships might be easy to break but they could be hard to rebuild. Maybe it would be easier with Reuben and his baby sister, since they weren’t old enough to have been disappointed by him.

  “I thought I heard your voice.” The guy ahead of him turned around, a grin splitting his face. “Ben. Wilkom back!” Gus Schmidt, once one of his closest friends, pounded him on the shoulder. “Sure is gut to see you.”

  “I’m wonderful glad to be here. You’ve changed.” Ben nodded toward the bristly beard that adorned Gus’s chin.

  “I’m an old married man by now. Nancy finally put me out of my misery.”