Sarah's Gift (Pleasant Valley 4)

by Marta Perry

  “Do you think so?”

  “Ja, I do.” She patted his arm, rising. “I’ll get you some more soup. You must be hungry if you’ve been hanging around here all afternoon.”

  “Denke, Sarah. But I’d better start walking. It’ll be dark soon.”

  “You don’t need to walk. I can—” She stopped, hearing the sound of a horse and buggy approaching the house. She went to the window and peered out.

  “It’s Aaron.” Had he come because he knew Benjamin was here? Or for some other reason? Last night had been . . . complicated. She wasn’t sure she was ready to talk to him again already.

  Benjamin’s spoon clattered on the table. “How did he know I’m here?”

  “I can’t even guess, but he’s here now, so you won’t have to walk home.” She tried to sound as if it were any ordinary visit. “I’ll just step out and speak to him while you get your coat on.”

  Hurrying a little, Sarah wrapped her shawl around her and went outside with no clear idea in mind of what she would say to Aaron. She just knew she couldn’t let the two brothers meet without at least trying to mend the breech between them.

  Aaron jumped down from the buggy and strode toward her, a frown darkening his face. “Benjamin—is he here? Matthew Kile said he dropped him off here hours ago.”

  “Ja, he’s in the kitchen.”

  The frown deepened, if possible. “You should have sent him home.”

  She would not let herself respond in anger to his tone. “I found him not half an hour ago, hiding in the barn. He’d been there for hours, and he was half-frozen. I brought him inside and gave him something hot to eat.”

  He had the grace to look ashamed at his hasty words. “I’m sorry, Sarah. I didn’t mean to imply that you were hiding him from us. We’ve just been so worried. Molly is nearly out of her mind with wondering what happened to him, and I . . .”

  He didn’t finish, but she knew the rest of it, because she knew him. “And you have been blaming yourself.”

  “Ja.” The muscles in his jaw clenched visibly. “I suppose he told you what he did.”

  “He told me he’d had some beer, ja. One of the older boys brought it to the party.”

  “He told you that? He wouldn’t answer when I asked where he’d gotten it.”

  “Why do you think that is?” Oh, Aaron, stop and think about this. Her heart ached for him, trying so hard to do the right thing for his siblings.

  His lips firmed, and for a moment she thought he wouldn’t answer. Then he gave a small shake of his head.

  “Because I was yelling at him, I suppose. Because I went through the roof when I knew he’d been drinking. You know why, Sarah.”

  “Ja,” she said softly. “I know. But Benjamin doesn’t. Don’t you think you should tell him?”

  “No.” He pushed that thought away with both hands. “I can’t. I can’t let him feel what I do about our father.”

  “But if he doesn’t know why you feel so strongly about it, how will he understand?”

  He looked at her, eyes tortured, and his pain pierced her heart. “I can’t, Sarah. Somehow I must keep him from following our father’s path, but I can’t tell him what happened the day he was born. There must be another way.”

  “If there is, I think it does not involve shouting at him.” She tried to smile, hoping to take any sting out of the words.

  “I know.” He reached out, clasping her cold hands between his, warming them. “You’re a gut friend to us, Sarah. It wonders me that you’re willing to be bothered, as much trouble as we are.”

  She knew the answer to that, but she couldn’t share it with him. “We’re neighbors. That’s reason enough.”

  The cold wind ruffled the shawl, and a shiver went through her. Aaron rubbed his hand on her arm.

  “You’re the one who’s frozen, standing out here talking. Komm, let’s go in. I promise I won’t shout at Benj for causing us so much worry.”

  She nodded, turning to mount the steps, very aware of him close behind her as they went into the house.

  “Here is Aaron,” she said cheerfully when they reached the kitchen. “Ready to give you a ride home.”

  Benjamin froze, it seemed, looking at his big brother with wide, vulnerable eyes. “Aaron? I . . . I’m sorry.” His voice was uncertain.

  Aaron crossed the kitchen in a few quick strides and pulled his younger brother into a hug, holding him for a moment. He ruffled Benjamin’s hair. “We’ve been worried about you.” His voice was rough with emotion. “Let’s go home. Molly won’t be content until she sees you.”

  Sarah watched them go, tears trembling on her lashes.

  Please, Father. Help them to understand each other. Please.

  The worship service had ended, and Sarah stood with Anna and Rachel. She felt a surge of gratitude toward them. She’d been nervous when she and Aunt Emma arrived for worship this morning, sure that her troubles had been the main topic of conversation among the Pleasant Valley Amish for the past two days.

  She wouldn’t have been overly surprised if people had kept their distance this morning. Perhaps some did, but Rachel, Anna, and Leah had more than made up for that by drawing her instantly into their circle.

  She’d sat between Anna and Rachel during the service, with Leah behind them at the end of a pew, convinced that she’d be taking her small daughter out at some point during the three-hour service. Little Rachel had surprised her mammi by getting through the service, but they’d gone out quickly afterward in search of a bathroom.

  “It’s gut to see your aunt looking so well.” Rachel nodded toward Emma, who was chatting with a few of her oldest friends. Around them, men and boys worked at transforming the large shed that had served as their sanctuary into a dining area where everyone would be fed.

  “She has been better the past couple of days.” Sarah hesitated, but if she couldn’t talk openly about it to these two, then with who? “I feared she’d be devastated by Dr. Mitchell’s threats, but the trouble seems to have revived her instead.”

  “Ja, our Emma has always been a fighter,” Rachel said.

  Anna nodded. “She’s never hesitated to say what she thinks to women who don’t follow her rules during pregnancy or fathers who don’t think newborn testing is necessary. A prejudiced young doctor isn’t going to scare her.”

  The words were comforting. “You’re right. But still, I wish I hadn’t caused this trouble.”

  “You didn’t, and that’s what I’ve said to anyone who dared say different to me.” Anna squeezed her hand. “Rosemary has been blaming herself, too, for bringing it up, but it seems to me Dr. Mitchell is the one in the wrong. He doesn’t have the right to tell us how we should have our babies.” Anna looked like a bit of a fighter herself.

  “That’s true,” Rachel said. She ran her hand over her belly. “I want you and Emma to deliver this baby, no one else. I’m not going to a hospital with strangers and machines and unfamiliar ideas.”

  Sarah managed a smile. “You make me feel better, you two. But I know there are those who don’t agree. And that’s their right, too.”

  Anna looked as if she were going to burst into speech on that subject, but Rachel put a calming hand on her arm.

  “Have you heard anything more?” she asked, her voice low.

  “Not a thing. I keep feeling as if something’s about to fall on me.”

  “Maybe it’s just talk,” Rachel said. “Maybe Dr. Mitchell spoke out of anger and has thought the better of it.”

  “I hope so.” But there was no conviction in Anna’s voice.

  Rachel patted Sarah’s arm. “We are all praying about it already.”

  “Denke.” There seemed to be a lump in her throat.

  Rachel turned. “Ach, there is Aaron. I want to ask him how Molly is doing.”

  It looked as if Aaron had been headed toward the door, but he veered in their direction when Rachel waved.

  He nodded at their greetings, looking distracted. “I’m going home
to check on Molly. Nathan and Benjamin will stay for lunch.” He managed a smile. “Those two never pass up food, that’s certain sure.”

  “We won’t hold you up, then, but we wanted to know how Molly is.” Rachel smiled. “No one blames her for not coming out on such a cold morning at this time.”

  “Ja, that’s it.” Aaron seemed relieved at having so handy a reason provided for him. “She just . . .” He stopped as two boys carrying a table moved between them. Touching Sarah’s elbow, he drew her back out of their path, and her breath caught at the protective gesture.

  “You’re sure Molly is well?” She took advantage of their momentary isolation to ask the question.

  His brow furrowed. “I don’t know. She says it’s just that her back aches too much to sit on a bench for three hours, but . . .” He let that trail off, sounding like a man unwilling to venture too far into the particulars of pregnancy.

  “I’ll be glad to stop by the house on our way home,” she offered.

  “Ja, that would be wonderful gut.” Relief smoothed his forehead. “You don’t need to tell her I was worried.”

  She had to smile. “I won’t.” She paused, wondering if she could ask about Benjamin.

  “I am grateful to you for your kindness to Benjamin,” he said, making it unnecessary to ask. “I think he is ashamed of what happened, especially causing us such worry when we realized he’d been out all night.”

  “I didn’t do anything, but I’m glad if things are better between you.”

  “You did a great deal,” he said, his voice firm. “It wasn’t a coincidence that Benjamin hid out in your barn. He trusts you. He wanted to talk to you.”

  “When I look at him, I see my own little bruders.” A smile curved her lips, chasing away some of the worry that had been hanging over her. “They were always in and out of mischief and coming to me with their troubles. I wasn’t trying to interfere.”

  Or had she been? Certainly she’d felt it would have been disastrous if Aaron had gone in to Benjamin in an unforgiving mood.

  “It’s not interfering when it comes from a friend.” His fingers brushed hers, hidden by the fold of her skirt so that no one would see. “If you . . .”

  His words trailed off, and he looked toward the door, frowning.

  Sarah followed the direction of his gaze. Her breath seemed cut off, as if she’d fallen and had the wind knocked out of her. Bishop Mose stood near the door, talking to the man who’d just entered. An Englisch man wearing a police uniform.

  Silence spread through the space as people nudged one another, saw, and conversation stopped. Soon it was so quiet she could hear the low rumble of the man’s voice as he spoke to the bishop.

  “That is the township police chief.” Anna whispered the words, moving next to Sarah.

  A sign of support, that was what she meant by standing beside Sarah. No more waiting for the dreaded something to fall on her. Here it was, in the shape of a man in uniform, interrupting their Sunday.

  Sarah couldn’t seem to breathe. She could only watch as the two men began moving through the crowd toward her, worshippers drawing back on either side of them, the bishop in his Sunday black suit, the police officer in his gray uniform. Two authority figures, coming for her.

  They stopped in front of her.

  “This is Sarah Mast,” Bishop Mose said. “You know everyone else, I think. Sarah, this is Chief Walker. He has something to say to you.”

  “I’m sorry to come here on a Sunday.” The chief’s voice was a low, embarrassed rumble. “Believe me, Bishop Mose, I never would do such a thing as interrupt your worship if the district attorney hadn’t insisted on it. I guess he figured he wanted the whole community to know all at once.”

  “To know what?” Sarah discovered she could speak after all.

  “Dr. Mitchell has lodged a complaint against you with the district attorney, Mrs. Mast, accusing you of practicing medicine without a license by delivering babies.”

  Someone around her gave a gasp. That was the only sound.

  “What will happen as a result of this complaint?” The bishop’s voice was as even as if this sort of thing happened every day.

  “There will be a hearing in front of a judge at the county courthouse. The judge will listen to both sides before deciding if the complaint is justified. If he decides that it is, then Mrs. Mast will be put on trial.” He paused. “I know you don’t hold with such things, Bishop Mose, but it would be best if Mrs. Mast had a lawyer to represent her. I can make arrangements about that, if you want.”

  Bishop Mose nodded gravely, his white beard moving with the motion. “That is kind of you.”

  “In the meantime . . .” Chief Walker held out a folded paper to Sarah. Her hand numb, she accepted it. “This is a restraining order, requiring you not to deliver any babies until this matter is settled by the court. If you break this order, you could be arrested.”

  Sarah stood perfectly still, the paper stiff in her fingers. This, then, was what she’d been waiting for. She knew now what it was like. It was like a mountain of snow sliding off a roof, burying her completely, wiping her from existence.

  Aaron glanced out the kitchen window. “Look, it’s snowing,” he said, hoping to distract Molly. Ever since he’d returned from church with the news of what had happened to Sarah, she’d been unable to talk about anything else.

  Molly gave a cursory glance outside. “Do you still think Sarah will stop today?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.” Would she? She’d said she’d come to see Molly this afternoon, but that had been before her business had come crashing down in ruins.

  No, not business. Her world. He shouldn’t try to minimize it.

  “Tell me again what happened.” Molly seemed unable to settle, moving from sink to table to stove and back again, as if driven by something he couldn’t understand.

  He studied her, noting the flush in her cheeks. “I will tell it yet again, even though you’ve heard it three times already. But only if you will sit down and try to relax.”

  “How can I relax?” That had obviously been the wrong thing to say. “I want Sarah to deliver this baby, right there in the room you built. I don’t want to go to a hospital where no one even knows me. Who knows what they might do?”

  “I understand,” he said, trying to soothe her, even though the truth of it was that he didn’t understand. He led her to the rocker. “Sit down, Molly, please. You’re making me nervous.”

  That got a small smile from her. “Ach, I’m not going to have this baby today, if that’s what you’re thinking.” She sat, but a cloud still hovered in her expression. “What right has this Dr. Mitchell to interfere with how I have my baby? Or the police? It’s not their baby.”

  “To do him justice, I don’t think Chief Walker wanted to be there any more than we wanted to see him. It sounds like he was pushed into it.”

  “Well, then—”

  “Molly, Sarah can’t disobey the court’s order,” he explained for what seemed like the twentieth time. “They could put her in jail if she disobeyed.”

  “Jail.” Molly’s eyes widened. “Poor Sarah. How she must feel! Aaron, you tried to comfort her, I hope.”

  “Ja, of course.” Had he? Really? “But the women were doing a much better job of it than I could. Anna, Rachel, Leah, Ada . . . they were all supporting her.”

  “But some people weren’t.” Molly was too sharp to be fooled by half a story.

  “No one spoke out against her, if that’s what you’re imagining. But some folks did just . . . stay back. Maybe they think it’s not their problem.”

  “It’s everyone’s problem,” Molly said hotly. “You told her we support her, didn’t you?”

  “I . . . well, there wasn’t a chance.” His conscience pricked him at that excuse. “You can tell her yourself when you see her.” He patted her hand. “I’m sure she’ll be along soon. She’s not one to forget what she said she’d do, and she’ll know you’ll be worried.”

&
nbsp; Somehow he didn’t doubt that at all. He’d grown to know Sarah Mast better in a little over a month than some people he’d known for a lifetime. He just hoped she’d come before Molly wore a hole in the floor, hard as she was rocking.

  It couldn’t have been a half hour before he heard a buggy in the lane. He looked out the window. “Here is Sarah now.” Before Molly could move, he went to the door. “I’ll go and meet her. You sit still.”

  He had little hope that Molly would stay still, but at least maybe she wouldn’t try to come outside in the cold.

  Sarah was climbing down already, her black valise in her hand. He grabbed the buggy horse.

  “I’ll take care of the rig. You go on in to Molly. She’s been fretting herself into a state since I got home.”

  Sarah nodded. “There’s no need for her to be upset. This will work out as God intends.” She took a step toward the back door, but his outstretched hand stopped her.

  She looked up at him, flakes of snow forming white stars on her black bonnet. He’d thought, in his first glimpse, that the shock and pain had disappeared from her face, but now he saw that they were still there, just hidden by the calm face Sarah presented to the world.

  “I’m sorry.” Her pain seemed to grab his throat, choking the words. “I’m sorry for your trouble, Sarah.”

  For a moment she looked at him, her clear eyes assessing the truth of his words. Then she acknowledged them with a small nod and turned away, going on into the house.

  Had she believed him? Did he even believe himself? The doubts were like whirling snowflakes in his mind as he led the horse to the hitching rail.

  He was sorry, of course. Sorry for the pain this caused her. But would he be sorry if she had to stop practicing? He didn’t know the answer.