"Out in the field."
"Let me go ring the bell and call him in."
"No! I don't want to worry him."
"Too bad," Jenny told her and started for the door. "You're scaring me."
Jenny rang the dinner bell, hoping Chris would hurry in, wondering why she was using the bell when it wasn't time for a meal. Sure enough, he came running up.
"What's wrong? Is it Hannah? Is she in labor?" he asked, panting.
"She says she isn't but the baby's doing something that's hurting her. I think she needs to go to the doctor."
Hannah was grimacing in pain as she bent over the table when they rushed into the kitchen. Chris grasped her by the arms and held her against his body. "Baby, are you okay?"
"This little monster's kicking me up under my ribs," she told him, sounding breathless.
"It can't kick its way out, can it?" Chris turned to ask Jenny.
She pressed her fingers to her mouth, trying not to laugh at his naiveté, and shook her head. "I never heard of such a thing."
Then, to their horror, Hannah slumped against Chris. "Ow!" she cried. "That hurt!" She looked at Jenny. "Is this how bad it's going to hurt when it comes out?"
"How would I know? I've never had a baby, remember?" But Jenny had heard horror stories of hours, days, of labor, of excruciating pain.
Hannah glanced at Chris and he gave her a disbelieving look. "Don't look at me! How would I know? Listen, I think we better get you to the doctor."
"I don't want to go. I don't want them to make the baby come out before it's time. Maybe if I just lie down for a few minutes it'll stop."
Chris glanced at Jenny and she lifted her hands and then let them fall to her sides. "Let's let her lie down on the sofa and you call her doctor."
Nodding, he lifted Hannah into his arms and carried her into the living room and gently laid her on the sofa. Carefully, he tucked a sofa pillow behind her and bent over her to take her hand. "Any better?"
Jenny stood beside Chris and saw that tears were leaking from the corners of Hannah's eyes and she'd lost even more color in her face.
"I'll stay with her while you go call the doctor," she said quietly. "Here, it's the doctor's card she keeps on the refrigerator."
Chris nodded. He kissed Hannah's cheek and hurried to the phone shanty.
"He looks terrified." Hannah said, sighing. "I never thought I'd see him this way. I mean, he was a soldier in war and even after he came home he had a gun shoved in his face by the man who followed him here to hurt him."
Jenny drew a chair over to sit closer to Hannah. "I have to agree with you." She glanced at the door, then back at Hannah." Wonder how he's going to be in the delivery room?"
The front door opened and shut and Matthew rushed into the room. "Why did you ring the dinner bell—" he stopped as he took in the sight of Hannah lying on the sofa. "What's this about? You in labor?"
Hannah rolled her eyes at her brother. "No, the baby's got its foot up under my ribs. Chris is calling the doctor."
The door opened and slammed. "The doctor said to bring you in," Chris said tersely. "I called a driver. He said he can be here in ten minutes." He sighed as he put his hands on his hips and stared at Hannah. "If I had my Mustang I could be taking you there right now."
"I'm not getting up on some horse," Hannah snapped, rubbing her hand over her abdomen.
He stared at her for a long moment and then he laughed. "It's a car, sweetheart. A Mustang's a sports car."
"Oh." She held out her hand. "Can you help me get up? Otherwise I'm going to need a crane."
"You stay right there while I get your bag."
"I don't need it!" she said but he was already out of the room and they could hear him taking the stairs two at a time.
"Anything I can do?" Matthew asked Hannah.
"Why don't you go see if you can calm Chris down," she suggested.
"I can do that."
Jenny waited until Matthew was out of the room. "How was he when Amelia had the children?"
"He was a rock when it came to having a boppli," Hannah told her, grimacing as she tried to get more comfortable. "At least, that's what Amelia told me."
Good information to have for the future, Jenny thought. If ever she conceived.
Chris and Matthew returned minus the suitcase Hannah had packed for when she went to the hospital to deliver.
"I convinced Chris that he doesn't need to take the bag," Matthew said. "If the boppli decides to come, we can bring it later."
A horn honked.
"There's our ride," Chris said. "Let's hustle."
Hannah held out her hand but instead of taking it, Chris lifted her easily and started for the door.
"Oh, my purse!" she cried. "Jenny, my purse!"
"You don't need it," Chris told her but when she held out her hands, blocking them from passing through the front doorway, he stopped and sighed. "What is it with women and their purses?"
Matthew turned to Jenny. "Better go get it."
Jenny ran for the purse and passed it to Hannah. "Let us know what the doctor says. Matthew has his cell phone."
"Tell Phoebe I'll see her later."
"Phoebe!" Jenny looked at Matthew. "I have to get her a robe and some things." She pressed her hands to her cheeks. "Oh, my, what excitement we've had around here the past two days."
"Why don't you go take care of that and I'll round up someone to look after the kinner while we go see Phoebe?"
"It was good of Rebecca to come over and watch out for the kinner," Matthew said as they pulled out onto the road in their buggy.
"Mmm," Jenny said.
Matthew glanced at Jenny. She seemed lost in thought.
He had an idea of where those thoughts were centered. She didn't know, couldn't know, that he'd heard her ask his sister how he'd been when he and his first wife had had their kinner.
He knew it wasn't about Amelia . . . that Jenny felt she came second to her in any way. She was just curious about how he cared for a wife when she was in need. He carried a sense of guilt that he hadn't shown Jenny how he could care for her in a time of need, truly care for her. He hadn't accompanied her to the hospital when she'd had to have the additional surgery for her injuries from the bombing after they'd become engaged.
Then, too, after the buggy accident she'd been involved in, he'd frozen when they got to the hospital and the place reminded him of those last tragic months of taking Amelia there for chemo.
Since they'd been married, he'd tried to show Jenny that he not only loved her but that he could be a support to her as well. He had to measure up this time. He had to—what was that Englisch term he'd heard used once to describe it? Be there.
"Why don't you come over here?" he asked, patting the seat next to him.
She smiled and slid over.
"Closer," he said, sliding his arm around her and drawing her against him. "A lot going on, ya?"
"Ya," she said fervently. She leaned her head against his shoulder.
"Talk to me, Jenny. Tell me what's upsetting you so much about Phoebe being in the hospital."
"Beside the fact that she won't tell me what's wrong? That's not enough?"
"You have a vivid imagination and you know a lot," he said calmly. "I think you're imagining the worst."
She sighed. "I know. It's hard not to."
When he pulled the buggy over to the side of the road, she glanced at him. "What are you doing?"
Once he had the buggy safely off the asphalt, he turned to her and took her hands in his. "I know you lost your mother and your father. But that doesn't mean that you're going to lose Phoebe. Not yet."
"It's easier for you to accept God's will." Jenny closed her eyes, then opened them.
He raised his brows. "Really?"
She nodded. "It's such a part of your belief, your culture. But it's still hard for me."
"Do you think I easily accepted the news that Amelia was ill?"
"I—no . . . I don't know. I
wasn't here." But she stared at him, trying to feel out why he was asking her this. "How did you feel?"
"Like anyone would if they were told that a part of them was being ripped away," he said quietly. "Being Amish doesn't mean that I don't care as deeply or feel as angry as any other man that someone I love is going to be taken away too soon. I don't care any less or have any special ability to be so spiritual that I can just say, 'Okay, it's God's will.' "
He stared ahead at the road. "I went through all the stages of grief"—he stopped and looked at her. "I know about them because I didn't just talk to the bishop after Amelia died. I talked to a grief counselor and he told me about the seven stages of grief. I went through every one—some of them several times. It took a long time to come to some kind of peace about her death. Years."
Looking at her hand in his big, work-callused one, he searched for the right words—so hard for him and so easy for her since she was a writer. "The biggest thing, the most important thing I learned about watching someone I loved being ill was to take each day and live it because you never knew how many days you had left with the person you loved."
"You're saying worry destroys today, that it takes away from our being able to live and love."
"I admire how you can come up with the right words."
She elbowed him. "You're teasing me."
Picking up the reins, he glanced back and found the road clear. He called to Pilot and guided the buggy back onto the road.
"Let's go see how Phoebe's doing. She could be waiting there to go home with us instead of needing her robe."
"I pray you're right," Jenny said fervently. "I'll worry a lot less when she's back home."
"Well, Matthew said that you were coming home today and I didn't believe him," Jenny told Phoebe as they traveled home a short time later.
"Did you call the hospital, Matthew?" Phoebe asked him.
He shook his head. "I just had a feeling." He glanced at Jenny and grinned.
Jenny sighed. "He's going to be impossible and think he's right about everything from now on."
Laughing, Matthew shook his head. "I know better."
They pulled into the drive and as Matthew was helping Phoebe climb out of the back seat of the buggy, a car pulled into the drive.
"Hannah!" Jenny cried and ran to her as Chris helped her from the vehicle. "You and Phoebe, home at the same time! God is good!"
"It was all a big worry over nothing."
"Hardly nothing," Chris told Jenny as he tucked away his wallet after paying the driver.
"We can talk about that later," Hannah told him, hugging Phoebe and then sliding her arm through the older woman's so they could walk inside together. "Phoebe's home!"
Jenny put coffee on, water for tea, and set out a plate of cookies.
"So what did the doctor say?" she asked as she sat at the table.
Hannah looked at Phoebe. "You go first."
Phoebe shook her head. "I want to know about the baby first. Jenny told me about what happened on the way home. What did the doctor say?"
"Just that this sort of thing happens sometimes."
"Hannah," Chris said in a low voice.
"Okay, he said that the pain can get bad enough that women have passed out. So he said to be careful and stay away from things like glass doors and that sort of thing so I don't get hurt."
"I see." Jenny got up when the tea kettle whistled and poured a mug of hot water. She brought it to the table with a tin of tea bags and set them before Hannah.
"Of course the baby stopped what he'd been doing just as we walked into the doctor's office." She shook her head and rolled her eyes at her husband. "Sorry."
He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "I don't care. We needed to know what was going on. And this way, if it should happen again, you'll know what to do so you don't get hurt."
"Did you find out the sex of the baby?" Phoebe wanted to know. She leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with interest.
"We don't want to know. Remember?"
"I was hoping you'd changed your mind."
Jenny secretly wished so, too. It just seemed to her that now that people could know, they'd want to. It seemed to make life easier. The prospective parents could pick out the right name and paint the room and decorate it for whatever sex the baby was. Friends and family could buy the right presents for baby showers. If there were any siblings, they could be prepared for the new little person who would appear soon.
When Hannah and Chris had first told Jenny and Matthew that they were expecting but that they'd asked the doctor not to tell them the baby's sex, Jenny had thought that it was just a whim. That they'd change their minds.
She must have forgotten how stubborn her husband's sister was, and how much Chris was willing to do to make her happy. He had good reason to want to do it, apart from loving her. After all, how many women stood in front of a man and took a bullet meant for him?
Jenny thought about how amazing it was that two such different people—this woman raised as Amish from birth as Hannah was and Chris, a former Englischer raised to join the military as part of his family tradition—meshed so well as a couple. And that they had worked through Hannah's insistence to forgive their assailant and see that he was given a second chance to not go to prison.
Matthew got up to pour more coffee for them and as he passed Jenny, he paused to touch her shoulder. "You okay?"
She nodded. "I'm fine, thanks."
"So now it's your turn," Hannah said. She leaned her elbows on the table and looked at Phoebe.
"Everyone made such a fuss out of me fainting," Phoebe said casually, shrugging her shoulders. She stirred a spoon around and around in her coffee cup.
A whisper of alarm ran up Jenny's spine. She'd never known Phoebe to be evasive, to avoid looking at anyone. When she'd been attending college, earning her journalism degree, she'd attended a lecture for psychology class, one on nonverbal communication. The lecture hadn't just been interesting and helped her earn extra credit for the psychology class—it had proven invaluable when she interviewed people, among other things.
After all, like the professor had said that night, something like eighty percent of the information that people received about a person was nonverbal—it wasn't what they said, but how they behaved. Watch their eyes, their hands, their posture, the professor had said. Watch to see if they look at you directly or if they avoid meeting your eyes. See if they tap their foot from nervousness or do some other movement that seems to show they're tense.
Like stir their coffee over and over. While not meeting your eyes.
Uncomfortable, she looked around at the others at the table.Matthew and Hannah were watching Phoebe and clearly taking her at face value. But Chris was doing the same thing as Phoebe—well, not exactly. He wasn't stirring his coffee, but he wasn't looking at Phoebe or anyone else at the table. His expression was troubled. Why? Jenny wondered.
He knew something, she realized. He knew something.
"One of the paramedics went in your medicine cabinet," Jenny said slowly. "He showed us prescriptions you'd been taking."
Phoebe's eyes flew up to meet Jenny's. "Why, that's an invasion of privacy."
Jenny shook her head. "No," she said quietly. "They need to know what medications people are taking so they can tell the doctors at the hospital. They need to know about those medications because they're taken for certain conditions and if the person they've been called to come help is unconscious, well, that gives them more information."
"We don't want to pry, Grossmudder." Jenny reached across the table. "But we're worried. Something's wrong, isn't it?"
Phoebe sighed. "Yes. But it's not as bad as it seems."
Her words were chilling. Jenny glanced at Matthew and he'd gone still, his coffee cup halfway to his mouth. Not as bad as it seems?
The front door slammed open and it sounded like a herd of cattle ran through the living room. Annie burst into the kitchen and skidded to a stop when she saw the adults seat
ed at the table.
"You're back!" she cried, flinging herself into Phoebe's arms. "I'm so, so happy."
Phoebe beamed and hugged her. "Me, too."
Annie turned. "Mary! Joshua! See who's here!"
Phoebe flinched. "Well, I don't think I'll be able to hear for another hour, but who cares."
She held out her other arm and Mary and Joshua rushed into them so that she was holding all three in a big hug.
The sight warmed Jenny's heart. Phoebe looked at her over the tops of the children's heads. Not now, she seemed to telegraph. Not now.
5
Mamm, can we have a celebration supper?" Annie asked her.
It was a family tradition to have a big supper when there was something to celebrate like a good report card or a birthday. Jenny supposed they could do it when the children's grandmother-of-the-heart had returned home.
"Sure," said Jenny. "We'll fix all her favorites."
Phoebe looked at Annie, then Mary, then Joshua. "I want macaroni and cheese. And green bean casserole. And oatmeal cookies for dessert."
"Those are all our favorites!" Annie cried.
"They are?" Phoebe pretended surprise.
"You make them for us all the time," Mary told her.
"Well, I love them, too."
"Go do your chores and I'll get the macaroni and cheese and green bean casserole started," Jenny told them. "We'll all make the cookies after supper."
She looked at Hannah. "Would you mind if I cooked for all of us here?"
Hannah chuckled. "If I had the energy I'd jump up and kiss you for that."
"Great. Whatever ingredients you don't have I can send one of the children to get from our house." She turned to preheat the oven. "I'll replace what I use tomorrow."
"Don't be silly. We're family. We share."
Jenny nodded and sighed. "Sorry. You're right."
The moment the children were gone, Jenny turned to her grandmother. "Now we can talk."
Phoebe glanced around at them and sighed. "I've been having some trouble with my heart."
Jenny's knees went weak. She sank down into her chair.
"See, I knew you'd get upset," Phoebe said, frowning. "That's why I didn't tell anyone. You've been through enough."
A Time for Peace Page 4