by Sarah Price
"You'll pick up enough to understand eventually," Lillian said. With her free hand, she reached out to brush some sawdust out of Linda's hair. "Have you been helping the women, Lindy? That's a fine big girl." Linda smiled in delight and buried her face in Lillian's lap. "She pretends to be shy, you know," Lillian said to Shana.
"Linda, come sit next to me," Shana said to the three year old. "You've grown so big this summer."
The little girl climbed onto the faded brown sofa and, at Shana's encouragement, leaned against her side and put her head against Shana's stomach. She let Shana put her arm around her but her eyes never left her mother's face.
"I feel your stomach moving," Linda smiled, her angelic face peering anxiously at her own mother. "Mama's stomach moved before, too."
Lillian reached over and tugged affectionately at Linda's disarrayed pigtail. "That was your brother moving around."
"Is this my brother, too?"
"Your cousin," Lillian gently corrected. Fascinated, Linda returned her attention to Shana's stomach while Lillian changed the subject. "I understand that your parents are to come visiting. You must be quite glad to see them. It's been over a year, ja?" Jacob finished nursing and Lillian wiped his mouth with a yellow cloth.
"A year, yes."
"Are they excited about their grandchild?"
"Excited about their new grandchild?" Shana started to stand up, Linda scampering over to Lillian's side. Her back was aching the worst that she had felt yet. Sitting only made it worse. "Their excitement has been masked by their confusion when I told them Emanuel is an Amish man. And, when they visit, they'll be horrified to discover their daughter's being baptized Amish. I may as well have never existed."
Once on her feet, Shana put her hands on the small of her back and turned to face Lillian. She was startled by the expression on her sister-in-law’s face. She hadn't meant to sound bitter when she answered Lillian's question. But, she was certain the words had come out that way.
"Imagine how you would feel if Linda left the faith. But that is a possibility, isn't it?" she tried to explain. "The Englische society surrounds the Amish youth, pressuring them to conform to their ways. They make it especially attractive with fast cars, convenient laundry machines, and fancy clothing. Imagine how the Englische would feel to lose their child to the Amish. No more weekly phone calls, no surprise visits, no family Christmases. Most Englische don't even know what the Amish are. They aren't touched by us. But this is something my parents will be faced with and I fear they will find it hard to accept."
"I wasn't aware they didn't know," Lillian apologized, sensing the hurt and frustration that Shana felt. "Perhaps once they visit and see how happy you are, they'll understand that you've married into a community of love and faith. Perhaps experiencing your peace will make it easier on them."
Shana doubted it but did not comment. And, at the present moment, she wasn't certain she was feeling any inner peace over the increasing pains. "I must lay down," she said more to herself than to Lillian as she started to make her way toward the door but halfway there, she stopped and clutched at her stomach.
Katie and several other ladies were carrying in large trays of dirty dishes as Shana stood in the center of the room. Noticing the deep frown on Shana's face, Katie quickly handed her trays to one of the other ladies and hurried over to her daughter-in-law. "Shana, you're sweating," she said as she touched Shana's arm.
"I think I need to go home," she whispered weakly.
Katie glanced around until her eyes met with a young woman standing nearby. "Fetch Emanuel, Sarah."
The woman, taking one look at Shana's pale face dotted with sweat, hurried past them and rushed out the kitchen door. Katie directed Shana back to the sofa. Lillian handed Jacob to Sylvia and hurried to the kitchen sink to get a glass of cold water. "Sit down, child."
"Where's Emanuel?"
Katie felt a tug at her arm and turned around as Lillian handed her the glass. Katie sat next to Shana and forced her to sip some of the cool liquid. "Sarah went to fetch him. Do you feel pains?"
"A little."
"I think He is about to send us your baby, Shana."
"It's too early," Shana replied, suddenly frightened.
"That's not for us to decide," Katie gently reminded her.
Emanuel hurried in through the kitchen door, his hat in his hand and his hair disheveled. "Wie gehts, Mamm?"
Katie rose to meet him. "You best bring around the buggy. Ana, Sylvia and I will follow. If you want your child born at home, we better get started at once."
Emanuel glanced over her shoulder at Shana. She sat alone on the sofa, the glass of water held tightly in her hands. She stared at him, her eyes wide and frightened. He walked over to the sofa and knelt before her. “It’ll be fine, Shana. I’ll get you home.” He squeezed her hands and helped her to her feet, holding her tightly as they walked toward the door. "She's been feeling it all day, Mamm."
"She's probably been in labor all day."
A momentary wave of admiration swept over Emanuel, which was quickly replaced with concern. "Will we make it home?" he asked softly.
"With plenty of time to spare, Emanuel. Now hurry," Katie instructed.
Outside, Jonas had already pulled the buggy around, having overheard Sarah calling for Emanuel. Emanuel smiled nervously at Jonas clapped him on the shoulder and reached out for Shana's hand to help her inside the buggy. Once seated next to him, she leaned her head against his shoulder, her breath coming in short, uneven waves. She felt her pains grow and spread as though a vice was pressing against her midsection. But, just as quickly as it came, it disappeared.
"Isn't it remarkable?" she whispered, more to herself than to Emanuel.
"What is remarkable?"
Shana wrapped her arms around her protruding stomach. "Lillian was right, you know. The inner peace..."
Emanuel pulled the buggy to a short stop at the end of the driveway, looked both ways, and quickly slapped the reins against the horse's back. "Inner peace?"
"I thought I'd be more afraid of the pain," she whispered. "But even that isn't so bad." She laughed softly. "I thought I had a stomachache all morning."
"You are remarkable," he corrected. Then, reaching down with one hand, he covered her folded hands with his.
Eight hours later, Shana gave birth to their son, Noah Lapp.
Chapter Twenty
The Lapp family welcomed the birth of Noah Lapp with little fanfare or celebration. Emanuel cried when he first held his son in his arms, the baby's face still puffy red and his hair damp from birth. Katie and Ana had left the room, leaving the new parents to enjoy those precious moments.
Emanuel held Noah, sitting on the edge of the bed, the room hot and sweaty. Emanuel stared down into the face of his first-born son, amazed at the small button nose, puckered lips, and tiny creases for his eyes. Finally, lifting his eyes to stare into the face of his exhausted wife, Emanuel smiled through his tears, "He's a blessing. A beautiful blessing," he whispered. And then, he placed the newborn baby in Shana's arm to let the two of them drift to sleep.
Shutting the door as he left the guest room, Emanuel started down the short hallway into the kitchen. His mother sat at the kitchen table, watching him as he approached her. He stood by the kitchen table, half turned away from Katie's gaze. "He is truly amazing," he said softly.
Katie quietly replied, "Your son is that."
Emanuel glanced over his shoulder at her. When she looked up, he spared her a smile as he said, "I meant God." Then, bowing his head, he retreated from the kitchen, pausing only to grab his hat by the door, and escaped to the barn where he prayed his thanks to his Lord.
The next day, early in the evening, Emanuel had driven to town and, his hand shaking, shoved three dollars in quarters into a payphone to call Shana's parents and tell them about their new grandson. He spoke to them briefly, his heart pounding inside his chest, as he told them about the home birth and the beautiful baby boy that resulted. Then,
his fears allayed, he confirmed their visit in three weeks and hung up the phone.
Sylvia stayed at the farm immediately after Noah's birth for which Shana was thankful. While Shana tried to return to her daily routine, she moved a lot slower and tired too easily to tend to all of her chores. During the day, Sylvia managed the chickens and helped Emanuel with the milking, leaving Shana some solitude with her son.
In the evenings after supper, Sylvia helped her sew some new dresses for herself, showing Shana how to sew typical Amish women garb. They also sewed some clothes for baby Noah. A week after his birth, they tested his miniature versions of Emanuel's clothes. Shana laughed as they dressed Noah, even though he slept through the fashion show.
"He'll grow into them soon enough," she said as she redressed him in a soft, cottony sleeper.
During those first days, Shana could hardly keep her eyes off of him. She cherished the early morning hours when he cried to be fed. Slipping on a robe, she padded across the floor and lifted him out of his crib. She'd sit by the window in a rocking chair that Emanuel had made for her. By the dim light from the moon and stars, she cradled him against her breast, staring into his sweet face as he fed. It was their private time, alone, to share together.
During the day, when Emanuel and Sylvia worked in the fields cutting and spearing the tobacco, Shana would hum softly to Noah, walking him from room to room while he slept in her arms. She loved to hold him, to talk to him, to watch him while he slept. And when he awoke, his unseeing eyes searching her face, she smiled to herself, fighting the tears of pride.
After that first week, the rest of Emanuel's family began visiting their newest family member. Early evening on the nights, someone would stop by for a visit. Some of the family, mostly uncles and aunts from further distances, asked their Englische neighbors to drive them to Emanuel's farm. Whoever came was welcome in Shana and Emanuel's kitchen. They'd sit for a while, drinking tea or coffee which Sylvia usually prepared, each taking a turn at holding Noah as they talked about crops and other relatives. Then, when the sun finally set over the farm, they'd hand the baby back to Shana and wish the Lapps goodnight.
"He smiled," Sylvia said eagerly one evening as they sat alone in the kitchen. Supper simmered on the stove, the kitchen full of the thick smell of roasting ham. "Did you see him smile?"
Shana set the damp kitchen towel down on the counter as she hurried over and stared down at Noah as he lay in Sylvia's arms. "Did he really smile?"
"Just a little one."
Emanuel finished washing his hands at the kitchen sink, his evening chores just completed. "Three weeks is too young to smile, Sylvia," he said as he dried his hands on a kitchen towel.
Hurt, Sylvia looked up, defending her observation. "I said it was a little smile."
Shana reached out and took the baby. Snuggling his head against the crook in her arm, Shana sat down on the kitchen sofa. "Let's see," she began to coo. "Does Baby Noah have a smile for Mama?" Instead of responding, Noah tried to focus his eyes but ended up blinking twice and rolling his head to the side. A small spot of saliva drooled out the corner of his mouth. "I don't see too much in favor of a smile," she said teasingly to Sylvia who had retreated to the sink to wash and bleach her organdy prayer cap.
"Visitors," Emanuel announced, setting the damp kitchen towel on the counter.
Shana glanced out the window. The sky was turning silver and they would be retiring to bed right after supper. Between the hard work during the day and Noah’s crying at night, everyone was extra tired. "Bit late for visitors, wouldn't you say?"
Emanuel leaned forward. "Connecticut plates. I think it's your family." He turned around and asked, "Is it Friday already?"
She didn't answer as she stood up, Noah drifting to sleep in her arms and, a stiff tilt to her chin, she walked toward the kitchen door. Both Emanuel and Sylvia started to follow but Shana hesitated at the door. "Sylvia, perhaps you'd be kind enough to set two more places at the table. I'm sure they'll be hungry after their travel."
"Let me take Noah," Emanuel said softly.
The car stopped in-between the barn and house. Shana carefully handed Noah to Emanuel before, a quick hand to smooth back any hair that had strayed from her pulled back bun, she opened the door and stood outside on the porch. The air, warm and thick, carried the stench of ripe manure. Shana wondered if it would offend her parents but, as the car door opened and a tall, sinewy man stepped out, she forced a smile and waved.
"Hello there!" she called out, wondering where her strength evolved. She stepped off the porch and made her way across the lawn to properly greet them. Her bare feet treaded along the cool, dewy grass, each step bringing her closer and forcing her heart to pound louder. She stopped a short distance away and found herself startled when her father leaned over to kiss her cheek. "Find it ok, then?" she asked, her back stiffening and her temples starting to throb.
Her father's eyes quickly tried to recognize the young girl he knew as his daughter in the woman who stood before him. "Look at you," he started, his gaze taking in her neatly parted hair and plain blue dress, but his voice trailed away and he left his sentence unfinished. Everything about her was Amish, from her dirty bare feet to her cape covering the front of her dress. They only thing missing was her prayer covering.
"Hello Mother," Shana said as her mother, not nearly as tall as her father, walked around the side of the car. "You look well."
"Shana," her mother started. But she stopped, her troubled blue eyes quickly darting around the farm. "This is home?" The confusion and, perhaps, disgust in her mother's voice angered Shana. She hadn't wanted this to happen. Her peaceful world was suddenly tossed upside-down in those three simple words that had slipped from her mother's tongue.
"This is our home," Shana confirmed, her smile as she tried to maintain control of her beating heart and quickening pulse.
"Willkumm," came the soft, gentle voice from behind her.
Shana turned around, relieved that Emanuel had stepped forward. She noticed her parents stare at him, taking in his black suspendered pants, dirty white shirt, and mustache-less beard. Their shock was apparent by their silence so Emanuel approached them, clutching Noah tightly as he, too, quickly studied his in-laws. While their clothes struck him as too fancy, their expressions softened as they noticed the baby sleeping in his arms.
"You want to meet your grandson, ja?" and he quickly relinquished Noah to Shana's mother. He touched Shana's arm lightly as he watched the barrier between her parents slowly melt, their emotions overwhelming as they cradled Noah in their arms.
After supper, they sat around the table, sipping at their iced tea. The cows shuffled around noisily in the fields and one of the horses neighed loudly. Sylvia sat quietly in the corner, Noah sleeping soundlessly in her arms, as she watched Shana's parents with wide eyes. Occasionally, Shana would glance at her, appreciating her young sister-in-law's encouraging smile, before returning her attention to her parents. Emanuel sat at the head of the table, listening as his in-laws, mostly her mother, droned on about everyone's shock when Shana left her career to marry a farmer. While her mother spoke kindly, both Shana and Emanuel noticed the disappointment in her voice. But, rather than comment, Shana smiled meekly and offered them more iced tea.
Finally, after the grandfather clock stuck ten times, Emanuel took Noah from his younger sister with a gentle reprimand. "So late for you, Sylvia. You should have retired earlier."
Shana quickly came to Sylvia's defense. "No more so than you or I, Emanuel."
He nodded at Sylvia who, taking his queue, softly bid her goodnights and retreated upstairs. He waited until he heard her bedroom door shut before he turned to Shana. "We should retire, too. After all, we must get up early for chores. Besides, we have plenty of time to visit tomorrow."
Shana stood up from the table. "We've fixed the downstairs guest room for you," she said as she walked toward a door off to the side of the kitchen into the room where Noah had been born. She decided to no
t mention that fact until another time, if at all. She disappeared into the room and, seconds later, a flicker of light glowed inside the room. The orange illuminated around her as she returned, a smile on her face. "I left some clean towels on the bed. The water pressure isn't very consistent but it gets hot enough," she said, waiting for them to get up from the table and retire.
They bade her good night, her mother pausing to give her a stiff hug and whisper "It's good to see you, Shana" in her ear.
Upstairs, Shana checked on Noah as he lay in his cradle. She tucked the thin blanket under the baby's chin and smiled to herself. "He's a sleeping angel," she whispered.
Emanuel remained quiet as he stripped off his clothing and, with a heavy sigh, climbed into the bed. Shana glanced over her shoulder at him. He lay on his side, his brown curls spread out on the white pillow. His mustache-less beard appeared a thick shadow across his face in the flickering of the kerosene lantern.