The Amish Midwife

by Mindy Starns Clark

  “Alexander? If you know what she’s talking about, why don’t you take it from there.”

  Nodding, Alexander cleared his throat and then spoke.

  “Klara and I were courting,” he said softly, “and I was over to see her one evening. Of course, Giselle and Marta were still living here as well.”

  He glanced at Marta, who gave him an encouraging, sisterly nod. He continued.

  “Mammi got word that Giselle would have to work late at the office but not to wait up, that she would be home after she was finished. I think Giselle was eighteen then, on rumschpringe, so Klara and I were not concerned when she hadn’t shown up by the time I left. We both assumed that Giselle had left work and gone directly out with friends, perhaps to a party or two. It was a Friday night, you see, and Giselle often disappeared on the weekends.” Alexander looked over at James and me, pausing to explain. “Some kids tend to… uh… exploit their time of rumschpringe more than others. You might say that Giselle was one of those.”

  Klara glanced sharply at Alexander and then returned her gaze to the floor.

  “In any event,” he went on, “I had gone over to the Gundy place where I was boarding because I worked for Benjamin. Mammi was a worrier, so when it grew very late and still Giselle had not come home, she woke Klara and asked her to take the buggy over to the nursery to see if she could find out what had happened. She came and got me to go with her. We thought Mammi was concerned over nothing, but she was so agitated by that point that Klara was willing to do as she asked and I was willing to help her.”

  At that Mammi’s sobs grew louder still.

  “When we reached the nursery, things seemed quiet and empty. But there was a light on in the main building and a single car in the parking lot, so I thought we should take a look inside. I left Klara with the horse, saying I would be right back.”

  It wasn’t until that moment that I realized what was coming next. Sure enough, Alexander went on to tell us that when he got up to the office, he discovered that the only ones there were Giselle and her boss, but that they had definitely not been working.

  “They had… uh… fallen asleep in each others’ arms,” Alexander said, not needing to elaborate. “I tiptoed away and got myself out of there, rejoined Klara in the buggy, and drove away. Apparently, Giselle was completely unaware that I had been there at all.”

  “Did you tell Mammi what you’d seen?” I whispered.

  He shook his head.

  “No. I simply said that Giselle was still at the office, and that if I were Mammi I would not wait up. Then Klara and I tended to the horse, put away the buggy, and said goodnight. My long walk back to the Gundy place gave me plenty of time for thought and prayer.”

  Klara interrupted suddenly, her voice sharp as glass.

  “My husband is leaving out an important detail. He chose not to tell me what he had seen either. That was his first big mistake.”

  “Klara—”

  “If you had been honest with me from the start, Alexander, perhaps none of the rest of it would have happened.”

  He shrugged, looking to James.

  “Regardless of what my wife is saying,” he explained, two bright blotches of pink appearing on his cheeks as he spoke, “please understand that this is the Amish way. We do not speak openly of private matters, of sexual intimacy. Between a man and his wife as God intended, yes, there is total freedom of words there. But not to others, and not of others. It was not my place to speak of the intimacies of my future sister-in-law. Giselle was an adult. What she did in her more private moments back then was between her and God. The most I could do was pray for her. Which I did after that, regularly and with deep concern. She was going to be my new sister, and though she was a very troubled girl, I loved her.” At Klara’s scowl, he added defiantly, “I loved her very much. As a sister.”

  Turning away, Klara recrossed her arms over her chest, set her jaw tightly, and slunk further into her seat.

  “If you didn’t tell Mammi about the affair, how did she find out?” I asked, wanting to get back on track.

  “Eventually, once Klara and I were married and I was living here as well, Giselle began…showing signs,” Alexander replied. “That is when I knew I had no choice.”

  “You mean signs that she was pregnant? Morning sickness? Baggy clothes? Things like that?”

  “Yes,” Alexander replied. “Once I realized what was going on, I decided my best course of action was to speak to Giselle directly. So I did, telling her that I knew about her and Bauer, and that I suspected that she was with child. Much to my surprise, she responded by denying everything, claiming instead that I had designs on her, that I was—how did she put it?—playing out my own fantasies by conjuring up lies regarding her with other men.” Again, this sweet fellow’s cheeks colored brightly.

  “The best defense is a good offense,” James offered, and after a moment Alexander’s eyes widened and then he began nodding vigorously, as if James had just handed him the missing piece to a lifelong puzzle.

  “That is it exactly. By making such claims about me, Giselle may have been able to avoid the real issue for a while, but, unfortunately, by so doing she also planted doubts in the mind of my wife.”

  “And that was his second mistake,” Klara added with a huff. “Not telling me then, either.”

  Much to my surprise, Alexander nodded.

  “You are right, Klara. At that point I should have told you everything. I was wrong, but my motives were pure. Truly, I wanted to protect you.”

  “Protect me? From what?” she sneered.

  “From the uglier things of this world. From the nature of Giselle’s sin. From the knowledge that even as God seemed to have chosen not to bless you and me with a child, in His unique wisdom He had not withheld that same blessing from your unmarried sister.”

  Klara’s mouth worked silently for a moment, again making her look like a fish. The cold truth of her husband’s words seemed to shut her up, at least temporarily, and I was glad.

  “After talking with the bishop about the situation at length,” Alexander continued, speaking now mostly to Ada and me, “I followed his advice and spoke to Mammi about it. She already had her own suspicions about a pregnancy, and once she learned that Giselle had a lover, those suspicions were confirmed. I told Mammi everything I knew and had no more involvement after that.” Glancing at Klara, he added, “Except, of course, to defend myself against Giselle’s insinuations. And Klara’s response to them. Over and over for the rest of my life.”

  After an awkward silence, James turned to Mammi, whose sobs had quieted at last.

  “Can you tell us what happened next? Did you confront your daughter? What made her decide to give the baby up for adoption?”

  Mammi looked back at him helplessly and shook her head, though whether she was unwilling or unable to speak I wasn’t sure. After that, to my surprise Marta cleared her throat and picked up the story.

  “I wasn’t quite twelve when all of that was going on, but I can tell you how things went from my perspective.”

  We nodded at her.

  “I remember a lot of drama, a lot of fighting. Giselle yelling at Mammi and slamming doors. Klara screaming at Alexander and sometimes even making him sleep in the barn. Once, I overheard a whispered conversation between Alexander and Giselle myself. Even though I knew it was none of my business, I listened anyway. I don’t remember the specifics, but I do recall that I never heard anything to justify Klara’s suspicions about the two of them. Mostly, I remember feeling bad for Alexander, because he was sweet and Giselle wasn’t herself at all, she was so mean to him. She had a sharp side to her, one that came out when she felt cornered. She hated hearing when she’d done something wrong, even if she knew it was true. Like James said, Giselle’s best defense had always been to go on the offense. And so she did. With a vengeance.”

  “You can say that again,” Alexander mumbled.

  “Anyway, around here things only got worse, not better. Perso
nally, what I hated most was all of the gossip. It just about drove me nuts. Everyone wanted to know who the father was, but even though there were plenty of rumors, Giselle would never confirm or deny any of them, not even to her own sisters. At some point the church leaders got involved. They started coming here and trying to talk some sense into her. Like Mammi, they wanted Giselle to confess and repent, to put an end to her reckless rumschpringe, and to join the church. They suggested she get married—to someone Amish, of course—and let him raise the child as his own, regardless of the actual paternity. To that end I know she had several prospects, but she wasn’t interested. Instead, she dug in her heels, told everyone to leave her alone, and turned her back on God and the church.”

  Marta sounded bitter, but as she spoke I felt pity surging within me for the poor, pregnant Giselle. She had made some very bad decisions, yes, but I just kept remembering that at the time she had only been all of nineteen. Who at nineteen hadn’t done some stupid things? All of that scrutiny must have served to only magnify the problems.

  “Of course, the bigger Giselle’s stomach grew,” Marta continued, “the more insanely jealous Klara became.” Looking at her sister, Marta added, “I was never quite sure if Klara was really angry because she suspected Alex was the father or simply because her sister had gotten pregnant even though she herself hadn’t.”

  I glanced at Klara, surprised to see that her cheeks were wet with tears. So the woman had a soul after all. James seemed to notice the tears as well, because he held out a hand to Marta and addressed Klara instead.

  “I have a question for you. Would you say that your father was a good man?”

  Klara sat up, looking uncomfortable, but at least she answered.

  “No. Not by anyone’s definition.”

  “Have you known many good men in your life?”

  She squinted at James, silently asking what he was getting at.

  “Just go with me for a minute. Have you known many good men? And by good, I mean men who are kind, dependable, trustworthy…”

  Klara shrugged.

  “There are some in the church like that, I suppose. The bishop. A few of the deacons.”

  “How about at home? Are there any good men in your home?”

  Klara stared at James for a long moment before understanding slowly began to creep across her face.

  “Why, Alexander, of course,” she whispered. “He is good, through and through. He is very, very good. To me. To everyone. He is the most gut man of all!” At that, much to my amazement, Klara burst into tears.

  To his credit, her husband didn’t even hesitate in his response. Instead, he simply slipped from his chair to his knees and took Klara in his arms, holding her tightly and patting her back as she wept.

  “I think sometimes when we grow up with a parent who is deeply flawed,” James explained to us as Alexander and Klara remained locked in their tearful embrace, “we learn, subconsciously at least, to expect the worst from everyone else as well. Given the kind of man her father was, no doubt at some level Klara believed that all men were bad. Even with Alexander, whom she loved, she would have had trouble accepting that his goodness was genuine, or at least that it would last. When Giselle started spewing her lies, Klara’s natural suspicions were confirmed, and she was more than ready to believe them. It’s sad, and it’s wrong, but it’s certainly understandable.” After a moment, he added, “Fortunately, it doesn’t have to be that way forever. We can all learn to see with new eyes if we try.”

  I was dumbfounded at what had just happened, and I looked at James with respect. Though this certainly wasn’t the most pressing issue of the day, he had spotted an opportunity for healing and had gone with it.

  Seeing with new eyes, indeed.

  “So who can tell us why Lexie was born in Norristown rather than here?” James asked, taking the conversation back to the next logical question.

  No one spoke, so after a moment, Ella shyly raised her hand.

  “Yes, Ella?” James said.

  “I wasn’t there, obviously, but I bet I can guess. Lexie probably can too.”

  At the moment I wasn’t interested in hearing theories, but James regarded her with interest.

  “With all of these people ragging on her all the time, Giselle probably just had enough one day and took off out of here.” Glancing at her mother, she added, “Sometimes we all need space, to catch our breath and maybe calm down and get some perspective.”

  “You are partly correct,” Mammi interjected, and I was relieved to hear her finally rejoin the discussion. “She did take off after a particularly bad argument with Klara, but Giselle did not just need some air. She was leaving for good. Like many of the youngie on rumschpringe, Giselle had purchased a car. Once she drove off in it, I thought she was long gone and I might never see her again.”

  “What happened to her?” I whispered, leaning forward to take in every word.

  “We learned later that she headed east, but she only made it as far as Exton before she felt a contraction. Determined to press onward, she drove for another half hour before she finally had to admit to herself that she was in labor and needed to get to a hospital, so she drove herself to the nearest emergency room which happened to be in Norristown. She was determined to get through the entire labor and delivery all by herself, but as the night wore on, her resolve weakened. Finally, she called a neighbor here and asked if they could get word to us about where she was and what was happening. The moment they told me I hired a driver and had him take me straight to Norristown Hospital to be with her. I made it just in time to see you come into the world.”

  I expected Mammi to burst into tears at the very thought, but instead a broad smile broke out on her face.

  “You were so perfect, Alexandra. So beautiful. At that moment, I knew it didn’t matter who your father was or what Giselle had done in the past. You were here, and that was enough.”

  As I wondered what happened to derail that thought, Mammi continued, glancing at Klara before she added that there was just one problem.

  “Giselle was very hurt by Klara, not just from the angry words they had exchanged but also from the fact that Klara had declined to come with me to the hospital. So she did something out of spite—something I know she eventually lived to regret.”

  Even before Mammi said it I knew. As a final stick of the knife both to Klara and her husband, my mother had decided to name me Alexandra.

  My sympathies dimmed for the helpless Giselle as I thought how absolutely cruel and wrong that had been. No matter how hurt or angry she was, what had given her the right to do something as awful as that?

  “Of course,” Mammi continued, “once she and I brought little Alexandra back home, things went from bad to worse. Klara and Giselle could hardly bear the sight of each other. Poor Alexander was angry and embarrassed, especially when church members began speculating about the reason for the child’s name. Thank goodness Alexander had involved the bishop from the very beginning, telling him everything, or the church might have eventually taken action to have him excommunicated and shunned.”

  I looked over at Alexander, who was back in his chair now but holding on to Klara’s hand. I felt terribly sorry, even complicit somehow, and I wished there was some way I could apologize on behalf of my mother.

  “What kind of mom was she?” I asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

  “In spite of everything, Giselle loved you very much,” Mammi replied, “but she had no idea how to take care of an infant, and she did not seem interested in learning. She left the hard parts to Marta and me and spent most of her time either resting or quietly playing with you.”

  “Sounds like she may have been suffering from postpartum depression,” James interjected. I had a feeling he was right.

  James and I both looked back at Mammi.

  “Whatever was causing it,” she continued, “at that time all I could do was wring my hands and pray for patience and try to prod her into action.”

&nb
sp; I nodded, trying to picture it, knowing that must have been a difficult time for everyone. No wonder they had eventually given me away. Sick, my own mother thought I was too much trouble to bother with.

  “Given that Giselle is Ada’s mother too,” James said to Mammi, “I assume that at some point she and Burke Bauer rekindled their affair?”

  “Worse than that,” Mammi replied. “They ran off together.”

  Ada and I looked at each other in surprise.

  “At first Giselle tried to stay away from him. She focused on the baby and helped around the house—when she was not resting. Mostly, she withdrew into herself. But one day, when Alexandra was about six months old, Giselle got the notion to go into town. We had sold her car, so she strapped up a horse to the buggy, took Alexandra, and left. I do not know what her intention was at that point. She said she only wanted to do some shopping, maybe visit with some friends. But I think perhaps she was lying, that what she really intended was to go straight to Burke Bauer and show him his daughter.”

  “She did not come back?” Ada asked breathlessly.

  Mammi shook her head, blinking away fresh tears.

  “That night several young men from the nursery brought back the horse and buggy, along with a letter from Giselle. It said something about how she and the baby were fine but that they were not coming home. I was not to worry because, as she had written, ‘We are a family now.’ Can you imagine that? This man with a trusting wife and a young son and a successful business threw it all away to go off and play house with his mistress and their love child.”

  “Believe it or not,” Marta added softly, “one of those young men who came here was Burke Bauer’s own son. He had no idea what was in the letter, of course, nor that his father had taken off with Giselle. He was just doing as Daddy had requested, delivering a horse and buggy to a local Amish family.”

  For some reason, the pain of that thought shone clearly in Marta’s eyes. I agreed that what Bauer had done was awful, using his son as a pawn in his scheme, but I didn’t understand the depth of her emotion.