Sarah's Gift (Pleasant Valley 4)

by Marta Perry

  “Ja, just put me to work.” Sarah handed Ruth her coat and bonnet.

  “Komm, join us.” Leah Glick lifted a stack of plates down from a cabinet shelf. “We can use an extra pair of hands.”

  “For sure.” Anna added her voice to her sister’s. “At least we get to work inside, not out in the cold.” She nodded toward the kitchen window.

  A group of men clustered around the barn. It didn’t take a second glance for Sarah to recognize Aaron’s tall figure on a ladder. She looked away again quickly.

  She hadn’t talked with Aaron since that difficult moment when she’d refused his demand that she not accept Molly as a patient. If he had his way, it would probably be a long time before she spoke to him again.

  “If Eli hadn’t been so foolish, trying to do the repairs to the barn roof himself, he wouldn’t have that broken arm.” Dora sounded more than a little exasperated with her spouse. “I told him and told him to hire the Miller brothers for that job, yet nothing would do but that he must try to save money by doing it himself.”

  Barbara Beiler looked up from the oven she was scrubbing. “Well, now he’s getting it done free already.”

  “I doubt he thought it was a gut exchange for a broken arm,” Anna said, a little tartly.

  “Sarah, I think you know most everyone, don’t you?” Leah must be used to intervening tactfully between her sister and sister-in-law. “You know Anna and Barbara, and my other sister-in-law, Myra.”

  Sarah nodded, smiling at the young woman. Myra’s brother, Samuel, she reminded herself, was married to Anna. Aunt Emma could detail all the intertwined family relationships back through the generations. Sarah was just beginning to sort some of them out.

  “So, Sarah.” Barbara shut the oven door with a satisfied bang. “Are you and Emma ready for all the company you’ll be getting for Second Christmas?”

  Silence greeted the words as everyone else seemed to join Sarah in staring at her.

  “What?” Barbara’s cheeks flushed. “What’s wrong?”

  “That’s supposed to be a secret, remember?” Leah sounded a bit put out with her talkative sister-in-law.

  “Ach, I remember that. But chust from Emma, ain’t so?”

  “We weren’t going to tell Sarah, either.” Leah gave Sarah an apologetic smile. “But maybe it’s just as well for you to know.”

  “Know what?” Nothing to worry about, was it? Second Christmas, the day after the solemn celebration of Christ’s birth, was traditionally a time for visiting with friends and relatives, sharing the joy of the season.

  “We thought it sounded as if Emma needed a little pick-me-up,” Leah said. “So we’ve been passing the word for folks to stop by that day, especially anyone whose baby she delivered.”

  Barbara chuckled. “That includes most everyone in the valley, I’d say. I’m sorry if I spilled the beans, Sarah. But maybe you’d just as soon know if a houseful of people is coming.”

  “I . . . I think that’s best.” She could hardly talk around the lump in her throat. “That is so gut of you.” She clasped Leah’s hand in gratitude.

  Leah shook her head. “It was Anna’s idea to begin with. The rest of us have just helped to pass the word. But if you think it will be too much for Emma . . .” She let that trail off, waiting for an answer.

  “I think it will be exactly what she needs.” Sarah looked around the kitchen, her heart swelling. “You are all so kind.”

  The silence was broken by a wail that seemed to punctuate her words. Soft chuckles came from the women.

  “The boppli agrees,” Dora said. She turned as if to go for the infant, but her daughter pushed her gently into the rocking chair.

  “I’ll get her, Mammi.” Ruth hurried from the kitchen, and her light steps sounded on the stairs. With plenty of people around to care for a new baby, the little one would never be left to cry. Ruth came back a moment later with a small bundle in her arms.

  “Let Sarah see how she’s growing,” Dora said, waving her hand toward Sarah.

  Smiling, Ruth put the baby in Sarah’s arms.

  Sarah snuggled the small, warm infant close to her. The babe’s redness had faded, leaving her with skin as soft and sweet as a peach. The little one’s hand waved, and then latched onto Sarah’s apron.

  Sarah nuzzled the small head, inhaling the scent of baby. The infant responded by turning her head, seeking the milk Sarah couldn’t provide. Her heart seemed to squeeze.

  “Ach, Sarah, you should have a houseful of babies of your own,” Barbara said.

  There it was—the thing she didn’t want to talk about. But obviously she had to, and maybe it was best to get it over with. “My husband and I were never able to have a baby. We wanted to, but I never got pregnant. The doctors couldn’t find anything wrong, but it just . . . never happened.”

  She could sense their feelings—sympathy, curiosity, pity.

  “Like my Englisch friend Rosemary,” Anna burst in, obviously trying to spare her any embarrassment. “She and her husband were married for six years with no babies, and just when she’d given up, she’s pregnant.”

  “We are so happy for her.” Quiet Myra spoke up, surprising Sarah. “Rosemary has been such a gut neighbor to us.”

  Leah nodded. “She mentioned to me that you might be helping with the birth, Sarah.”

  No doubt Leah hadn’t intended to put her on the spot, but she had. Sarah took a breath, trying not to picture Dr. Mitchell’s face suffused with anger.

  “I’m afraid that didn’t work out. Rosemary hoped I’d be able to cooperate with her doctor, as our practice in Ohio did.” She said the words carefully, mindful that at least one of these women was Dr. Mitchell’s patient. “But the doctor here didn’t wish to do so.”

  “Dr. Mitchell says lay midwives are ignorant amateurs who shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near a pregnant woman.” Mary Esch said the words defiantly, putting a protective hand across her belly.

  Someone inhaled sharply. Sarah felt as if she’d been slapped. She tried to come up with something, anything, to say that would ease the tension in the room.

  Mary looked around the kitchen. “Well, it’s true. That’s what he says. And I’ll have a real doctor deliver my baby, not—”

  “Mary.” Leah’s voice held a command. “That is your right, for sure. But you might have a little respect for those of us who don’t share your belief.”

  Mary looked abashed for a moment. Obviously she, like many others, held their former teacher in respect. Then she turned away, reaching for her coat. “I’ll be going now. My doctor doesn’t want me to spend too much time on my feet these days.” She swept out of the kitchen, and the door slammed behind her.

  “Don’t listen to her,” Anna said quickly. “Mary always has the rough side of her tongue for anyone who doesn’t agree with her.”

  “She’s also waited a long time to get pregnant,” Leah said, as if trying to be fair. “I’m sure she’s just speaking out of her concern over being pregnant at her age.”

  “You were in your thirties when you got pregnant,” Anna said, her voice tart. “It didn’t turn you into a shrew.”

  “Anna, that’s unkind,” Leah chided her sister.

  “Well, she wasn’t very kind to Sarah.”

  “It’s all right,” Sarah said quickly. “I understand her feeling. Obviously Dr. Mitchell views childbirth as a medical procedure. I don’t agree when it’s a healthy mother and a normal birth, but doctors are invaluable when something goes wrong.”

  “Certainly Dr. Brandenmyer does gut work,” Leah said, as if trying to steer the conversation into less controversial territory. “And he approves of midwives. It’s too bad he’s not closer. Anna’s friend could go to him.”

  “At least then Sarah wouldn’t cause problems by talking to him,” Barbara said.

  Once again she was the recipient of several stern looks from her sisters-in-law.

  “Well, it’s true,” Barbara said. “People are talking about Sarah’s vi
sit to Dr. Mitchell.”

  Sarah felt as if a pit had opened up at her feet. “I didn’t know.” The words sounded lost, and she tried to make her voice firm. “What are they saying?”

  “I’m sure—” Leah began.

  Barbara swept on. “Some folks are saying you shouldn’t have caused problems for us with the doctor, and because of an Englisch woman, besides. We’re better off not to get involved.”

  For a moment Sarah couldn’t speak. This was one of the risks she’d taken when she’d agreed to see Dr. Mitchell—the risk that her own people might hold it against her.

  “I made a promise when I became a midwife,” she said. “A promise always to do my best for every mother and baby. Every one, not just Amish.”

  Leah and Anna nodded, obviously agreeing. That was what she’d expect of them. But some of the others didn’t look so supportive.

  Her heart sank. She’d been trying to do her duty, but it seemed she’d caused problems instead.

  “Ach, this little one is certainly active.” Sarah held the stethoscope against Molly’s abdomen and watched it bounce at her baby’s vigorous kicking.

  Molly laughed, her face lighting with joy. “For sure. Do you think that means it’s a boy?”

  “I wouldn’t count on anything from the strength of the kicks,” Sarah cautioned. “I’ve known some pretty lively little girls, haven’t you?”

  “Ja.” Molly’s smile didn’t fade, and she pressed her palm against the kick. “There now, little one. I love you just as much whether you’re a boy or a girl. But I do wish you’d let me sleep once in a while.”

  “Babies always seem most active when mamms are trying to rest.” Sarah had a piercing wish to feel that for herself. “You know that if it should ever happen that you don’t feel the baby kicking for several hours, you should let me know right away.”

  “Ja, the midwife in Indiana said the same.” Molly sighed. “She had a partnership with a doctor there. I wish you had . . .” She flushed. “Well, you know what I mean. It would ease Aaron’s mind, I think.”

  “I wish it could be that way, too.” She pushed thoughts of Dr. Mitchell away. “But if you’d feel more comfortable going to a doctor . . .”

  “No, no.” Molly clasped her hand in a quick grip. “I know what I want, ain’t so? I was just thinking of Aaron, that’s all.”

  “He worries about you. That’s natural.” Sarah tried to keep her voice noncommittal.

  “I hope he hasn’t been giving you a hard time about it.” There was a question in Molly’s voice—a question Sarah didn’t intend to answer.

  “Everything is fine.” She patted Molly’s shoulder.

  There was no point in telling Molly about her worries. She had Aaron angry with her for treating his sister and a sizable portion of the church community unhappy that she’d caused problems with the doctor over an Englischer. Instead of moving the practice forward, she seemed to be losing ground.

  But that was not Molly’s worry. “And all is well with you, too. This boppli will be here soon. You have everything ready?”

  “Ja.” Molly swung her legs off the bed. “I wish my Jacob could be here for the birth, but he can’t take time off and then spend it sitting around waiting for me to go into labor.”

  “It’s hard for you, being apart at a time like this with only letters to share what’s happening.” That seemed to happen too often these days, as young men had to travel farther to find work.

  “It is hard.” Molly’s lips trembled a bit. “But this job in Wisconsin will earn him enough money to come back home and settle down for good. We’re going to build a house and stay right here then.”

  “I’m glad. And meanwhile you have Aaron and Nathan and Benjamin. That’s probably enough men to have worrying about you.”

  “For sure.” Molly’s eyes danced. “One or another of them is always looking at me like they expect me to explode.”

  “It’s gut for them,” Sarah said. “They’ll appreciate you more.” She’d almost said they’d appreciate their mammi more, but stopped herself just in time.

  Molly nodded, glancing around the birthing room where Sarah had started seeing patients even though it wasn’t completely set up yet. “You know, I think it will be best if I come here for the birth. It might . . . well, save Aaron some worries.”

  He wouldn’t have to relive his mammi’s death in the same home, in other words. “Ja, I think that’s a fine idea.”

  Molly hesitated for a moment. “You know why Aaron feels as he does, don’t you?”

  “I know about your mother’s dying when Benjamin was born. You’re not letting that worry you, are you? Because there’s no reason . . .”

  “No, no.” Molly waved that away. “I just wanted you to understand about Aaron. I wouldn’t want you to dislike him because of his attitude.”

  “Don’t worry. I don’t dislike him.” In fact, she liked him far more than she could admit, not that the liking could ever lead to anything.

  “Gut.” Molly straightened her skirt and pinned her apron into place. “Aaron’s such a gut man, always caring and responsible, as if he really were the daadi.” She was silent for a moment, apparently thinking of her father.

  Sarah was silent as well, not knowing what to say. The Miller children had had a difficult time of it.

  Molly seemed to shrug off her dismal thoughts. “Anyway, I am thinking it is high time Aaron let go a bit. Nathan and I are grown, and Benjamin well on his way. It’s time Aaron was thinking of marrying and having a family of his own.”

  If that was a hint, all Sarah could do was ignore it. Naturally that was what his family would want for Aaron—a woman who could give him babies of his own.

  When she didn’t respond, Molly gave a little shrug. “But now he’s letting himself get all worried about Benjamin’s rumspringa. Ach, the two of them seem determined to misunderstand each other.”

  “Maybe that’s because they’re too much alike,” Sarah suggested, glad to get onto safer ground.

  “Probably so.” Molly blew out a breath. “Benjamin went to his first singing on Sunday night, and what must he do but stay out later than Aaron told him. So of course the two of them argued, with neither of them listening to the other one, until I was ready to knock their heads together.”

  Sarah had to smile at the thought of Molly tackling her two tall brothers. She probably wouldn’t hesitate. “That might not be a bad idea.”

  Molly laughed. “If I try it, I’ll tell them you told me to do it.”

  Sarah smiled in return, but her heart was heavy. It sounded as if, in his concern for his little brother, Aaron was pushing the boy toward exactly the kind of behavior he feared.

  She couldn’t do anything about it. She couldn’t break his confidence in order to tell Molly. And she herself was certainly the last person on earth he’d listen to.

  Molly gave her an impulsive hug. “Denke, Sarah. You make me feel better just talking to you. I’d best chase down those brothers of mine and go home, so you can have your supper.”

  “I’ll see you next week, then, since you are into your last month now. And if you’d rather I come to your place, just let me know. There’s no reason why you need to go out in the cold.”

  Sarah began tidying away the blood pressure cuff and stethoscope, and pulling the sheet off the bed. It made as good an excuse as any to avoid going into the hall with Molly and seeing her brothers.

  Molly went out. Sarah heard the rumble of male voices. Footsteps. And the sound of the door closing.

  She let out a sigh. Gut. Aaron was gone. She could come out now.

  She stepped into the hallway and stopped. Aaron hadn’t left. He stood there, staring at her.

  Aaron’s heart jolted when he saw the swift, unguarded look in Sarah’s eyes before she masked it with her usual placid smile. “Aaron. I thought you had left with Molly.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I just wanted to speak with you for a bit.”

&nb
sp; Concern entered her face at that. She probably thought he’d come to argue with her again, and that shamed him.

  “I thought we should have a walk-through of the work,” he said quickly. “Just to see if there’s anything else that you’d like to have us do.”

  “Ja, that would be fine.” The tightness around her lips eased. “From what I’ve seen, the work looks excellent.” She stood back, gesturing him through the doorway to the first room, where she’d been meeting with Molly.

  “We always want to look at it with the client, just to be sure. Sometimes there might be some little change that will make it better.”

  Averting his eyes from the hospital-type bed that was already set up, he crossed the room and opened the closet door. It seemed Sarah had already put some things on the shelves. “Is the size of the shelves working out all right?”

  “Just fine.” She patted a stack of crisp white sheets. “I started filling the closet last night. That makes me feel as if we’re taking a step forward.” Some faint shadow crossed her face at that, making him wonder what had caused it.

  That was not his concern, he reminded himself. His job was nearly finished here. And despite the purpose to which the rooms would be put, he couldn’t help being pleased with the work they’d done. It was satisfying, building something that would last.

  Sarah turned away from the closet to glance around the room, painted in a soft off-white. “Really, Aaron, the addition turned out so well. I wish everyone in the valley could see it.”

  He nodded. She was thinking about her practice, no doubt, and not his workmanship, but that was as it should be.

  “You’ll be having a gut portion of the valley here on Friday, I understand.”

  “Ja. Leah and Anna set that up.” A faint flush colored her clear skin. “They have been so kind.”

  Did she say that about him when she spoke to someone else? Not likely.

  “Maybe you should try to have the rest of the furniture in the rooms by then. If you leave the doors open, it will be natural enough for folks to walk through and check them out. And you know they’ll spread the word fast enough.”