The Amish Wonders Collection

by Ruth Reid

  “I, ah . . . I thought you would be out in the barn,” she finally sputtered.

  “I’m heading there nau,” he said, not lifting his gaze.

  Good. He had the decency to be embarrassed over last night. Despite the tension she had anticipated, her stomach was calm. Probably the first morning since she’d found out about the pregnancy. Perhaps her body had stopped waging war against itself.

  “I better get breakfast started.” She pointed to the kitchen but dropped her arm. This was his house; she didn’t have to explain where the kitchen was.

  “Jah, I have stuff to do in the barn.” He took a step and stopped. “Did you see the letter that came for you yesterday?”

  Lindie smiled. “It was from Margaret. Eli sends his hello.”

  “Tell them I said hello the next time you write.”

  She nodded, then padded to the kitchen, the hardwood floors chilly against her feet even wearing wool stockings. Looking out the frosted window, Lindie spotted Josiah trudging across the snow-covered path. She rubbed her hands over her arms and shivered. No wonder the house seemed drafty. Multiple inches of snow had fallen during the night. The morning-pink glow reflecting off the snowcapped barn roof was breathtaking. So were the icicles that dangled from the porch roof. Days like today made her wish she were a child again and could spend a lazy afternoon after the chores were completed traipsing through the snowdrifts.

  Lindie sighed.

  She was a grown woman now with responsibilities, and breakfast wouldn’t cook itself. Maybe after they ate, she could take Hannah outside and the two of them could play in the snow.

  Margaret had said they were having a mild winter so far. Her sister-in-law said she’d been busy baking for Christmas. Lindie hoped to do the same. But she wasn’t sure what staples Josiah had in the pantry for doing the amount of baking she and Margaret used to do.

  Lindie opened the pantry and scanned the contents. So many jars of jam. Why? Lindie pulled the mason jars off the shelves and set them on the table. According to the labels, Ellen specialized in jam. Blackberry, strawberry, raspberry, even blueberry. What did the woman do with her time—just pick berries?

  Lindie lifted a jar of strawberry-rhubarb jam and squinted at the date. More than two years ago. The date of the jam wasn’t important, she merely wanted to see how long Ellen had been supplying his pantry.

  Hannah entered the room, poked Lindie’s back to get her attention, then closed her hand into the form of a C and moved it down the middle of her chest.

  Thirsty? Hungry? Lindie forgot what the book said the gesture meant. Whichever it was, she needed to adjust her priorities and make breakfast. Inventorying the pantry could wait. She smiled at Hannah and pointed to the chair. “Sit and I’ll make you something to eat.”

  Hannah crinkled her nose and repeated her hand movements. This time she emphasized the motion by touching her chest.

  It had to mean hungry. Lindie pushed the jars to one side and pulled the chair out from the table. “Sit,” she said, tapping the seat.

  She sliced a few potatoes thinner than normal so they would cook faster and tossed them in a fry pan. She’d washed the eggs earlier and had the coffee kettle heating on the stove.

  Hannah sat perched on the chair, eyeing Lindie as she worked. The girl needed something to do.

  Lindie motioned for Hannah to come to the counter. She handed the girl a bowl and a long-handled wooden spoon, then added the ingredients. “Stir them together.” She made a stirring gesture. Hannah mixed the concoction as Lindie checked out the window for Josiah and Simon. Like clockwork, they were plodding toward the house. Lindie hurried to butter the pan, and at the same time, the men clambered into the house. More concerned about Simon’s reaction than Josiah’s that the meal wasn’t ready, she motioned for Hannah to stir faster.

  Josiah stepped into the kitchen. He scanned the table. “What’s all this?”

  “The pantry,” Lindie said, flipping the potatoes in the pan. “I’ll put it back after breakfast.”

  Josiah shifted his attention to Hannah and smiled. “I see you have a helper today.”

  Lindie eyed her young assistant. Flour powdered Hannah’s nose, but she smiled, apparently pleased with her duty. “The pancakes might take a few minutes yet,” Lindie told Josiah.

  He winked at his daughter. “I don’t want to rush the cook. Take your time.”

  Lindie wasn’t so sure Simon shared the same sentiment. He stood beside Josiah, running his hand down the length of his beard. She set the spatula aside. The kettle was hot, so she could at least pour them some coffee while they waited.

  It wasn’t long before they had the meal prepared. Hannah beamed ear to ear over the golden fried cakes.

  Lindie felt like she had finally done something right. Until she set her fork down and noticed Josiah’s raised brows. She ignored his subtle hint about the uneaten food and sipped her coffee.

  Simon pushed his chair back and stood, holding on to the corner of the table for support. “I’m going to start on the pallets.”

  Josiah stood to assist Simon. “Would you mind if Hannah tags along for a little while?”

  “That’s fine with me.”

  Josiah signed something, and based on Hannah’s smile, he must have told her how much he liked the meal. But by the end of the message, her smile had faded.

  Lindie’s heart tugged. Why was he sending the child away? She was hoping they could play in the snow after the kitchen was cleaned.

  Hannah rose from her chair and followed Simon from the kitchen.

  Josiah pushed Lindie’s plate closer to her. “Eat.” He rested his elbows on the table, planted his chin on his folded hands, and stared at her.

  Now it made sense. He must have expected a scene about not eating enough for two. But she felt as stuffed as a Thanksgiving turkey. “I’m nett sure I can eat any more.”

  “You’re pregnant. You have to eat.”

  “Josiah, I’m full.”

  He slid his chair away from the table and stood. “I can’t sit by and do nothing anymore. Get ready to go into town. I’m going to hitch the buggy.”

  Josiah pulled the buggy up to the porch and jumped out. What was taking her so long? He had work to do when they got back.

  Inside the house, he noticed Lindie’s cape still hanging on the hook beside the door. He continued into the kitchen and stopped, spotting her standing at the sink doing the dishes. “I thought you were getting ready.”

  “Jah, I redd-up the kitchen.” She crinkled her brows and looked down at her dress. “Did you want me to change?” The dress she had on wasn’t her Sunday best, but it wasn’t worn thin like some of her others.

  “You look fine.” He bobbed his head toward the door. “Kumm on. Get your boots and cape on so we can go.”

  She rinsed the suds off her hands, then dried them on the dish towel. “I didn’t realize you were in such a hurry.” She tossed the towel on the counter and adjusted her apron on the way to the door.

  He trailed her. “Sometimes Doktah Ethridge’s office gets really busy. He’s usually gut about squeezing new patients in, but—”

  “Doktah?” She spun around and plowed into his chest. “I thought we were going after colored pencils for Hannah.”

  “I’m sure we’ll have time for that too.” He placed his hand around her back and guided her toward the door. “If we can get on the road.”

  “Really, Josiah, I don’t need to see a doktah.”

  “Jah, you do. You’ve been sick too much.”

  “Nay.” She shook her head. “The queasiness will pass.”

  He pulled her cape off the hook and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Maybe so, but I’m still taking you.” He gave her shoulder a nudge, but she’d planted her feet. “Lindie, don’t give me a hard time. You’re losing weight when you should be gaining. Your belly is no bigger today and neither are—”

  She gasped and quickly folded her arms across her chest.

  “Your ankles.
What did you think I meant?”

  “Ach!”

  “Don’t get yourself into a tizzy.” Maybe he should have refrained from stating his observations so bluntly. Still, Caroline’s belly had swelled early on and continued to balloon until Hannah arrived. He didn’t want to frighten Lindie, but not gaining weight had to indicate something was wrong.

  Her eyes narrowed and her face turned crimson. “If you didn’t like what you saw last nacht, why did you loiter so long?”

  He smiled. “Oh, I liked everything I saw.” Too much. Thoughts of her kept him awake half the night. Wrestling not only with his attraction but with how ghastly underweight she looked for a pregnant woman.

  Her eyes widened. “You should have been decent and nett looked.”

  “Probably.” He leaned closer. “Tell me the next time you want to bathe and I’ll stay out in the barn longer.” He reached around her and opened the door. “Kumm on, mei bathing beauty. Let’s go into town.”

  She mumbled something he couldn’t hear.

  When he stepped outside, a blast of wind lifted his hat. He caught it from flying off and pressed it down hard.

  Lindie sat on the bench and rubbed her hands over her legs. “What do you think the temperature is?”

  “Near zero.” He reached for the quilt behind the bench. “Here, this should help.”

  Her teeth chattered as she unfolded the blanket and draped it over her legs. “Denki, this is much better.”

  “You need to start dressing in layers.” This weather was mild compared to January, February, and March. Some of those days could be so cold that he wasn’t able to feed the woodstove fast enough.

  “I hope Hannah doesn’t catch a cold from last nacht. I can’t believe she got all wet.”

  “She does a lot of strange things . . . since Caroline died. But she seemed happy to be cooking with you.” He remembered the time Hannah and Caroline had picked mushrooms in the woods and how proud Hannah had been showing him her basket. She had more twigs than mushrooms, but he’d made a big fuss over what she’d collected. Hannah had helped Caroline make homemade noodles, then they’d sautéed the mushrooms in butter and served them in a rich cream sauce.

  Lindie cleared her throat, pulling him back to the present. “I think you’ll be surprised at how much Hannah will like the pencils.”

  “She sure spends a lot of time drawing.”

  Lindie frowned. He hadn’t meant to sound negative.

  The traffic picked up as they approached town, so he kept Molly near the shoulder. His thoughts drifted to Caroline. What would she think of their daughter spending so much time drawing? He had to shake this guilt over seeing Lindie in the tub. Last night thoughts of Lindie nearly drove him mad. He had to admit he missed having a real marriage. But when thoughts crept in about becoming Lindie’s husband in the biblical sense, memories of Caroline pulled him away.

  He reined Molly onto Cedar Street.

  Lindie leaned forward, taking in the scenery. “The wreaths on the lampposts are nice. This town really decorates for Christmas, ain’t so?”

  “Simon and I made those wreaths.”

  “You did?”

  “The Chamber of Commerce buys fifty every year to hang in town and around the courthouse. This year several of the businesses ordered them for their storefronts. I delivered the last of the orders the other day.”

  “I didn’t know that was what you were doing in the barn.”

  “It’s extra income during the holidays. The hardest part is clipping and dragging the cedar boughs out of the woods. Attaching them to the chicken wire isn’t difficult.” He turned the corner onto Elm Street and stopped Molly outside of the doctor’s office.

  “I’m feeling much better,” Lindie said amid a flurry of cold air. “I’ll be able to eat—for two. Promise.”

  It wasn’t that simple. No baby could survive her emaciated state.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Josiah sat in the lobby of the doctor’s office, his elbows resting on his knees and his head in his hands. At least he picked a good time of day to bring Lindie; the office lobby was empty. From the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of a white lab coat and looked up.

  “Your wife will be out shortly,” Doctor Ethridge said. “Perhaps we could all talk in my office?”

  “Sure.” Josiah rose from the chair. The last time the doctor suggested a talk in his office, the news was devastating. A deep, racking cough overtook Josiah and he had to pause until it passed.

  “Coughing a lot, Josiah?”

  “Some.” Lately he coughed more than he cared to admit.

  “Any blood?”

  “No.” Up until now, the cough was mostly dry and nagging, not productive. He had an idea of what the doctor was getting at, but Lindie was the patient, not him.

  Doctor Ethridge stopped at the end of the hall and faced Josiah. He leaned closer and eyed Josiah over his wire-rimmed glasses.

  Too close. He didn’t like being under this form of scrutiny.

  “Your color doesn’t look too bad. Any night sweats?”

  Josiah shrugged. Yes, he had night sweats. He married a woman he didn’t know. He scanned the area. He didn’t want Lindie to overhear these questions.

  “Josiah, I think we need to do a blood workup.”

  “I’m healed.” He lowered his voice. “You said so yourself six years ago.”

  “We should check to be sure that’s still the case.” Doctor Ethridge opened the door to his office and motioned to one of the chairs positioned in front of his desk. “Please, have a seat.”

  Josiah sank onto the chair’s overstuffed cushion. This room hadn’t changed. The same framed documents adorned the wall behind the mahogany desk. Matching bookcases flanked the windows. He’d crafted the office furniture in lieu of payment for his and Caroline’s medical services. He scanned the room, wondering what the doctor would take in exchange for delivering Lindie’s baby. The office didn’t appear to need more furniture. Perhaps crown molding, but even that wouldn’t be much in trade. They would work out something. Doctor Ethridge was known for fairness and his willingness to barter services.

  “When did we last do a full panel of blood work on you?”

  “I don’t know, but my blood is checked a couple times a year.” He wasn’t sure what type of tests they did, or if a full panel had something to do with how many tubes of blood they took. Sometimes they sent the blood to a specialty lab. It cost him three hundred dollars when they did. Unfortunately, the doctor had no bargaining ability for the outsourced lab work.

  Doctor Ethridge picked up the phone and pressed a button. “Monica, will you pull Josiah Plank’s chart and bring it to me? Thanks.” He lowered the phone.

  Josiah shifted on the chair. The back of his neck was moist. He tugged on the collarless hem of his shirt. The office was too warm. If he weren’t under such scrutiny, he would ask for a glass of water. He cleared his throat. “Did you say Lindie was going to meet us in here?”

  “I ordered blood work on her as well, so it might take a few more minutes. The nurse will bring your wife in when she’s finished.”

  “How’s the baby?”

  “I’m concerned. The baby isn’t developing according to the charts.” The doctor folded his hands on his desk. “Until the blood work comes back and I can do an ultrasound, it’s difficult to determine the gestational age of the fetus. Based on the date your wife provided, she should be in her eighteenth week.” He flipped open the folder before him, skimmed the page with his finger, then repositioned the chart so that Josiah could look at the graph. “If the date is correct, this is what she should measure.” He moved his finger down the scale. “But this is her measurement. I’m afraid she isn’t developing as she should, which places her in a high-risk category.”

  Josiah recalled how Caroline’s last two pregnancies were termed high risk. “Is that because she’s sick all the time?”

  “That could play a part in the underdevelopment, but morning sickn
ess is common. Even into the second trimester.”

  “But Lindie is sick multiple times a day. It isn’t just in the morning. I think she’s losing weight instead of gaining it.”

  “That is a problem.” He studied the paperwork in the chart a moment, mumbling something about a BMI, and ended with saying, “She’s underweight even if she wasn’t pregnant.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “How would you rate her stress level?”

  Sky-high. “She’s under quite a bit of stress.”

  Doctor Ethridge jotted a note on the paper. “Interesting. I didn’t find her high-strung. If anything, she appeared somewhat despondent. But some people internalize stress.”

  Josiah swallowed hard. “Do you think she will . . . be all right?”

  “We’ll have to keep a close watch on her and monitor the development of the baby. Is this her first prenatal checkup?”

  Josiah nodded.

  “I understand Amish women prefer to have their children at home, but I would strongly advise a hospital delivery.”

  He and Lindie hadn’t discussed anything about the delivery. Caroline labored fifteen hours before giving birth to Hannah. The only exposure he’d had to a difficult delivery was when he aided a heifer birthing her first calf.

  “The hospital is equipped to handle any complications that might present themselves during the delivery.”

  Josiah wiped his hand over his perspiring brow.

  The doctor leaned forward. “She mentioned having sharp pains the other day. If she has any more, or if she starts to bleed, you’ll need to bring her in immediately.” A light tap on the office door pulled the doctor’s attention. “Come in.”

  “Here is the chart you asked for.”

  “Thank you. Please send Mrs. Plank in when she’s ready.”