Becoming Bea

by Leslie Gould

  I couldn’t hear Hannah’s response.

  Molly asked, “Where were you and Mervin?”

  “In the sycamore grove. Under a tree.”

  Molly’s voice was raw. “And your hair was literally down?”

  I’d already started to the kitchen before Molly yelled, “Bea! Come here!”

  When I reached them, Molly told me to undo my Kapp. I understood exactly what she was after and had my hair unpinned and loose immediately.

  Hannah stood. “What’s going on?”

  “Let your hair down,” Molly said to her friend.

  “Why?” Hannah’s hand flew to the top of her Kapp.

  “Please,” Molly pled.

  Hannah did, although with a bewildered look on her face. When she shook her hair out, Molly directed us to stand shoulder to shoulder while she stepped behind us.

  “Your hair is the same length,” she said. “Bea’s is wavier but not much. Hannah’s is darker, but who could tell at night? And you’re within a half inch of each other in height.” I was thinner, but I doubted Ben would have noticed that—or cared.

  I turned toward my sister. She crossed her arms. “How about Don and Mervin? Are they about the same build?”

  “Don’s bigger,” I said. Hannah turned around.

  By the surprised look on her face it looked as if she’d just realized what Molly was getting at.

  “You shouldn’t have been so mean to Ben about all those spelling bees,” Hannah said. “Maybe he wouldn’t have been so suspicious.”

  “That’s ridiculous.” I froze. The word bee made me remember . . . “A wasp got in my Kapp when Hope and I were picking apples. And I yanked it off. Ben saw my hair down.” I shivered. “He liked seeing it. I could tell by the look on his face.”

  Molly gasped and then said, “I’d laugh if this wasn’t all so pathetic.”

  Hannah shook her head.

  “Ben saw you and Mervin under the sycamore tree,” Molly said. “Not my little sister and Don.”

  “I already figured out what you were getting at.” Hannah twisted her hair back into a bun, turning toward me. “Now I really am sorry.”

  Molly was to the door before I realized it. “Where are you going?” I called out.

  “Ben’s over at the singing,” Molly yelled. “I want him here—now!”

  Chapter

  21

  Ben sank down to the floor, his back against the cupboard, his head in his hands when Molly finished telling him what had happened. Leon and Mervin stood on either side of him.

  “Did you see the couple in the sycamore grove?” Molly, followed by Hannah, stepped to my side.

  He nodded.

  “Not under the trees by the shop?”

  He lifted his head, his hands still over his face. “Jah. The couple was under the biggest sycamore in the grove.”

  Hannah put her arm around me. “Don told me to meet Mervin in the sycamore grove that night. He said Mervin had asked him to give me the message.”

  Mervin cleared his throat and then said, “Don told me the same.” His face reddened. “I mean, that you, Hannah, had asked him to tell me to meet you there.”

  Molly turned toward me. “Hannah and Mervin have already confirmed they were in the sycamore grove. Who can confirm you were by the shop?”

  “Phillip,” I answered. “He can at least confirm we were near the shop.”

  Ben’s hands fell from his face and his eyes met mine. “I believe you. There’s no need to drag Phillip into this.” He struggled to his feet. “Don told me to meet the two of you in the sycamore grove. That you would wait for me there, if I hadn’t caught up to you by then.” He groaned. “I can see it doesn’t even make sense now—why would he wait if he was in a hurry to get over to the Millers’ place?” His eyes met mine. “Please forgive me. Can we start over? And court peaceably this time?”

  I crossed my arms. I couldn’t start over with someone who’d thought so poorly of me. I was devastated that he wasn’t the man I thought he was. He was the one who’d betrayed me.

  “Bea . . .” Ben said.

  “Beatrice to you,” I snapped.

  “Bea . . .” Molly nudged me.

  “I’ll do anything,” Ben said. “Anything to make this up to you.”

  “Anything?” I asked.

  He nodded.

  “I forgive you,” I said. “Now leave.”

  “Leave?” He glanced toward the kitchen door.

  “No,” I answered. “Leave Lancaster.”

  Molly and Hannah both gasped, and a look of horror spread over Ben’s face as he stuttered, “You’re kid-ding—right?”

  I shook my head.

  “But my home is here. My family.” His brown eyes grew wide. “And you.”

  “That’s just it,” I said. “I don’t want to be reminded, for the rest of my life, that you”—I choked—“didn’t trust me enough to let me explain.” Every time I saw him, I would recall what might have been. I had loved him. I still loved him. Yet I despised him. The best thing would be to have him gone.

  He continued to stare at me without speaking.

  Molly grabbed my arm. “Bea, you just said that you forgave him.”

  “I did,” I answered. “I do. But that doesn’t mean I want to reconcile with him.” That would never happen.

  Ben looked as if he might cry.

  Tears, quite involuntarily, filled my eyes. I turned and walked away, through the living room and up the stairs. When I reached the landing, Mamm called out to me from her bedroom where she’d retreated earlier—to get away from the drama, I was sure.

  I stopped in her doorway. “I’m just getting my lap quilt,” I said. “For the ride back to the Millers’.” Mamm had made it out of Dat’s old shirts. She had a matching one, and Molly had a bed-sized one, her wedding gift from Mamm and me.

  “Are you leaving soon?” Mamm asked.

  I nodded.

  “And what are you thinking about the future?”

  I shrugged. “That I should find a business here in Lancaster County to buy,” I answered. In a rush, all the tears I’d been holding back escaped, flooding down my face. “Or maybe I should just go to Montana.” There was no way Ben would honor my request that he leave Lancaster. Sure I asked him to, but I had no control over what he’d do.

  “There, there,” Mamm said, extending her arms.

  I fell into them, burying my head against her shoulder as one sob after another tore through me.

  She patted my back and began to hum, the same tune as when she’d rocked Leah. After a while, Molly came up the stairs and said that Ben was waiting for me.

  “She’s distraught,” Mamm said. “Tell him to talk with her tomorrow at the Millers’.”

  “No,” I said, my voice muffled. “Tell him to leave. I don’t want to see him again—ever.”

  Molly stepped into the room and then sat down on the end of Mamm’s bed. “Bea, that’s not true. You wouldn’t be crying like you are if it were. We can hear you all the way downstairs. Ben’s sitting on the bottom step crying too.”

  My heart contracted, but not enough to sway me.

  “I know this has been hard,” Molly said. “But love is like that. Believe me.”

  I shook my head against Mamm’s shoulder and took a deep breath, trying to form my words, but another round of sobs overtook me.

  “Go,” Mamm said to Molly. “Let her be.”

  It took a moment of stony silence, but finally Molly obeyed. A few minutes later we heard the back door open and close and then Love’s happy bark, no doubt for Ben. Mamm pulled me down beside her on the bed, and I dozed until Molly woke me to say that Hope had arrived.

  “Are you taking Love with you?” Molly asked as I headed out the back door.

  “Jah,” I said, deciding I needed her more than any of them did. Love greeted me, wagging her tail, and followed Hope and me toward the barn. The night had grown colder. It wouldn’t be long until the first snow fell. Maybe tonight. Mayb
e tomorrow. When we got ready to go, Love jumped up into the buggy and off we went.

  This time I didn’t feel excited returning to the Millers’ place. Only weary. Molly must have told Hope what happened, because she didn’t ask. But she acted in a sympathetic way, mostly by giving me the space I needed.

  The temperature fell even more by morning. Bob had a roaring fire going in the wood stove by the time I reached the kitchen and one going in the fireplace in the living room too. “A storm’s predicted by early evening,” Bob said. “Pete and I have a delivery to make this morning, over in Berks County. We’ll be back sometime in the afternoon.”

  They’d hired a van to transport a set of cabinets for installation. The boys had work to keep them busy until noon, and then they were to go home.

  “Are you okay taking charge of the house?” Bob asked.

  “Sure,” I said.

  “Cate says she’s feeling fine. Pete kept the fire going all night, and the door to the sunroom is open. I told Nan to keep the babies down here today.”

  I nodded. “I’ll move one of the bassinets down, next to the playpen.”

  “I wish we didn’t have to go,” he said. “But this is an important job. I’m hoping for more work from this contractor. He has a bid in on a subdivision.”

  I knew with three preemie babies that Bob had financial concerns unlike any he’d had before.

  I made oatmeal for Bob and Pete and then packed sandwiches for them to eat for their noon meal, adding cookies and apples to the lunch box. Then I filled a thermos with coffee, knowing they’d need something hot.

  The panel van arrived on time, and the boys helped them load the cabinets. A couple of times, as they did, Ben glanced toward the window. I ducked each time.

  The morning progressed quickly. Hope and I fed the babies and took turns in the rocking chair while Nan took a shower. She came down shivering and stood in front of the wood stove, her long blond hair wet and loose. She ran her fingers through it, trying to dry it.

  I checked on Cate several times. Regardless of her door being open, the room was chilly. When I took her dinner tray to her, she said she wasn’t feeling very well. “Kind of shaky,” she said. “Maybe I just need to eat.” She sat up straight, pulling the bed table across her lap. I placed the tray of food on top of it. As she reached for the fork, she grimaced and her hand went to the side of her belly.

  “Was that a kick?” I asked.

  She shook her head.

  “What can I do?” I asked.

  She looked at the clock and then said, “I think I’m having contractions. About five minutes apart.”

  “I’ll go get Nan,” I said.

  “Denki.”

  The two conversed for a short time, and then Nan came back down the hall. “Bea,” she called out, “go call Doris and see if she can come get Cate. I don’t want to take any chances.”

  I hurried to the mud porch and swung my cape over my shoulders, practically flying out the door.

  The doctor wanted Cate’s pregnancy to last another two weeks. The last thing they needed was another premature baby in the house. Maybe her doctor could do something to stop the contractions.

  Storm clouds darkened the day, and the cold air bit at my face and hands as I ran across the lawn. The snow began to fall—not big, fluffy flakes, but small, determined ones. Love followed me, although a little slowly for her. She didn’t run circles around me—she simply stayed at my side. The snow fell harder and harder, coming down in a fury. When I reached the door to the shop, Love whined to come in with me.

  “Stay,” I said.

  Thankful that the boys had left for the day, so I didn’t have to worry about seeing any of them—especially Ben—I made the call and reached Doris on her cell phone. She thought it would be forty-five minutes before she could get to the Millers’ place but said she’d do her best to arrive sooner. I ran back to the house with Love matching my stride.

  I left my cape on when I reached the mud porch, hoping to ward off the chill of being outside. Hope was walking a screaming Asher, while Kurt cried in the playpen and Leah fussed in the bassinet. I picked up Kurt and headed back down to the sunroom, where Nan packed a bag for Cate.

  “She’ll be here as soon as she can,” I said. “But it might be forty-five minutes or so.”

  “Oh, dear,” Nan said, looking at Cate. “The contractions are four minutes apart now. We’d better call one of the neighbors.” Nan started for the hall. “I’ll do it.”

  I followed her.

  “The Cramers are closest, but Mrs. Barnes has a car, although she doesn’t drive anymore. Maybe she’d let me borrow it. I don’t have a license anymore, but I think, under the circumstances . . .”

  “By the time you walk over there, Doris will be here,” I said.

  Nan stopped at the kitchen table and leaned against it. “I wonder if those new neighbors would be home? The ones out on the highway, to the right. We could take the buggy there.”

  “You’re not going anywhere,” I said. “I’m going to call 9-1-1. That’s what I should have done in the first place, instead of calling Doris.”

  “Of course,” Nan said. “I’m not thinking straight. Neither is Cate. Denki.” She stood up straight, her hand going to her forehead. “Oh, wait.”

  “What is it?”

  She shook her head. “Bob gave me instructions in case there was an emergency, but . . . never mind,” she said. “Yours is the best plan anyway.”

  I headed back to Cate’s office a little baffled, but by the time I reached the phone, I didn’t give Nan’s odd behavior another thought. She was overwhelmed—that was all.

  Five minutes later, I was back on the mud porch, kicking the snow from my boots. Cate sat at the kitchen table, her bag by her side. “It’ll save time if they don’t have to come in,” she said, looking up at me. “Will you come along? Nan will send Pete as soon as he gets here. But I need someone with me.”

  “Of course,” I said. A month ago I would have hesitated. Even a week ago. But not now.

  Hope looked a little wide-eyed with both Asher and Kurt in her arms, while Nan sat in the rocker nursing Leah.

  “Keep the fires going,” I said to Hope. “I’ll go get one of my Mamm’s casseroles out of the freezer for supper.”

  I heard the wail of the ambulance as I came back up the stairs. Relieved, I wondered again why I hadn’t called 9-1-1 in the first place.

  Cate was already at the door, ready to go.

  “Wait,” I called out, running to take her arm. We tottered out into the storm as the ambulance pulled up. An EMT jumped out of the passenger seat, the snow pelting his jacket.

  “I’m in labor,” Cate called out. “Contractions are four minutes apart. Our driver couldn’t get here for another half hour.”

  The EMT scrunched up his nose. “Chances are you won’t deliver for hours.”

  “I’m early—thirty-four weeks,” Cate said. “I’m hoping they can stop it.”

  “Oh,” the man said, hurrying to the back of the ambulance and opening the doors.

  Soon we were on our way, me sitting in the back with Cate, the EMT taking her blood pressure as I took in everything around me. There was a monitor above the bed-like gurney that Cate was on, several machines made blipping noises, and shelves of supplies lined the back of the ambulance.

  The ride was bumpy down the lane. The vehicle lurched a little to the right and then slid when it turned onto the highway. I put my hand up to steady Cate, afraid she might fall, even though she was strapped down.

  “Whoa,” the EMT said, as if talking to a horse, as the ambulance straightened out and then picked up speed.

  The view out the back window grew whiter and whiter. I wasn’t sure how the ambulance driver could see at all. I breathed a prayer of thanks that I’d called the ambulance and that Doris hadn’t had to brave . . . My face grew warm. Oh, no! I hadn’t called her to tell her not to come.

  I inhaled deeply, but it just drew my feeling of
horror deeper.

  The ambulance driver must have slammed on the brakes, because it lurched, and then began to slide again. I grabbed Cate’s leg. It was all so disorienting inside the vehicle. Did it slide to the right? Spin around? I wasn’t sure. All I knew was nothing was right in the big box we were riding along in. An abrupt bump jolted me upward. I raised my hands to keep my head from hitting the ceiling, but in a split second I was free-falling back to my seat. Another bump, bump followed. With a last jolt, the ambulance came to a stop.

  “Oh, my,” Cate said, holding her belly.

  An odd crackling sound startled me, followed by someone saying, “Is everyone all right?”

  I must have jumped, because the EMT beside Cate, his face gray and his hand on the ceiling, said, “That’s the driver, checking in on us. It’s a speaker. Are you two okay?”

  I nodded, and so did Cate, her eyes wide.

  “Roger,” the EMT answered. “Everyone’s fine.”

  A few minutes later the back opened and the driver peered in. “A cow was in the road. I hardly saw it before having to swerve.” As the driver talked, a van pulled up behind him. “I already called for a backup ambulance and a tow,” he added.

  “Gut,” Cate said.

  A door slammed.

  “That was fast,” the driver joked, turning around.

  A voice asked, “Do you have Cate Treger in there?”

  “Doris,” I called out, straining my head to see her.

  “Oh, Bea.” Doris leaned inside, dressed as if she were headed to the North Pole. “Are you two all right?”

  “Jah,” I answered. “Except Cate’s in labor.”

  “I have chains on,” Doris said to the driver. “I can take them. I know these girls well.”

  The EMTs looked at each other and then at Cate. “It’s up to you. It could be another half hour before the next ambulance shows up.”

  “Unstrap me,” she said. “We’re going with Doris.”

  The ride was slow and tense. Cate didn’t complain, but it was obvious her contractions were getting closer and closer together. It was becoming less likely, I knew, that the doctors would be able to stop them.