The Amish Wonders Collection

by Ruth Reid

  This wasn’t about moving forward. Was it?

  “Simon.” Josiah pushed the lump forming in his throat down with a hard swallow. “I only plan on taking down an elm tree or two. I wasn’t going to reopen the sawmill.”

  Simon rubbed his beard. “Sohn, moving forward is something Caroline would want you to do.”

  Josiah wasn’t sure how to respond. When he first recognized his growing feelings toward Lindie, he purposely reminded himself of his love and devotion to Caroline. Now Simon was giving his blessing to move on.

  The sun was setting by the time the men came inside. “It’s snowing hard,” Josiah said as he entered the kitchen.

  Lindie smiled at the way his hair was matted down from his hat. “I’ll have the table set in a minute. Did you see Hannah’s drawing?”

  Josiah leaned over his daughter’s shoulder. “Wow.” He looked up at Lindie. “She’s really gut, isn’t she?”

  Simon peered longer at the picture. “Did you know she could draw?” he asked Josiah.

  “Nett that gut.”

  Lindie pulled a stack of plates out of the cabinet. She had just set them on the counter when Hannah rushed over and wrapped her arms around Lindie’s waist. Lindie paused a moment and then put her hand on the girl’s shoulder. A child’s love felt so pure.

  During the meal, Lindie sensed a new atmosphere in the room. Even Simon talked more and made a point to marvel at Hannah’s ability to capture a true depiction of nature. When the meal ended, Simon retreated to the grossdaadi haus.

  Josiah excused Hannah. She went to her bedroom with her art supplies, while he loitered around the kitchen.

  Lindie stacked the dishes. “You know what we forgot?”

  “What?” Josiah took the dishes from her hands and carried them to the sink.

  “The bell for the door.” She placed the stopper in the sink, then turned the tap water on and added soap.

  “We can stop in the morning after your doktah’s appointment.”

  She froze. “What appointment?”

  “He wants to do a . . . I forgot what he called the procedure, but you’re scheduled for one at nine o’clock.” He grabbed a dish-cloth and dried his hands.

  “I’m nett going back. I want a midwife to deliver the boppli.” Certainly he would respect her decision. She was the one having the baby.

  He stared at her.

  “Josiah, that’s how it’s done in mei district.”

  “Didn’t the doktah tell you? You’re at high risk.”

  She chewed the inside of her lip.

  He locked eyes with her. “Did you hear me? High risk,” he repeated.

  “I still want a midwife.”

  He shook his head. “Doktah Ethridge is gut. He delivered Hannah. Besides, our district is so small we don’t have any midwives. Even if we did, she would refer you to a doktah.”

  “A lot of women have their boppli alone. Without anyone. I can deliver—”

  “Nay! You can’t possibly think of having the boppli without a medical person’s help. It’s nett safe.”

  She stared at the floor.

  “You seem uninterested in the boppli. I don’t know what happened between you and the boppli’s father. Any decent man would have married you,” he mumbled under his breath as he crossed the room. “That’s what you’re upset about, isn’t it? You can’t get over the fact that the father didn’t marry you.”

  That was furthest from the truth, but she held her tongue. She recalled how Eli had jumped to conclusions and stormed over to Moses’s parents’ home to confront him. Had Moses not already left town to go work for his uncle, her brother would have put him on the spot to marry her.

  “I knew it,” he said. “Pretending the boppli doesn’t exist won’t make it so.” He continued, “Just because some man rejected you, you can’t reject this innocent—”

  “That’s nett why.” She ground the words through clenched teeth. A sharp pain struck her side and she gasped.

  “Wha–what’s wrong?” Josiah wrapped his arm around her waist and guided her to a chair. He knelt beside her. “Lindie, are you having pains?”

  She clutched her side. “I’ll be all right,” she said through guarded breaths.

  “I shouldn’t have said anything. I didn’t mean to upset you.” Josiah spread his hand over her belly. He closed his eyes.

  She should be praying too, but she couldn’t focus on anything but the shards of pain coursing through her. Unable to hold it in, she whimpered.

  Josiah opened his eyes. “It’s nett any better?”

  She shook her head.

  “You’re sweating.” He hurried to the sink and returned with a wet dishrag. Kneeling beside her, he dabbed the cool cloth against her forehead, uttering another prayer under his breath.

  A moment passed. “The pain is easing nau.”

  “Ach gut,” he said, blowing out a breath. “Will you tell me if it happens again?”

  Before she formed her response, another driving sharpness stole her breath. This time the intensity passed quickly. Even so, the pain had left her weak. What else could it be but her body rejecting the baby?

  “Do you want to check yourself?”

  A dull hum filled her ears. “What?”

  “You know. Go in the bathroom and see if you’re bleeding?”

  “Jah, I suppose I should.” She stood too fast and swayed. His arm came around her waist and she leaned against him, thankful for his support. Taking small steps, they ambled to the bathroom.

  He opened the door and entered the room with her.

  She cleared her throat. She might be dizzy, but she wasn’t about to invite him to stay.

  “Are you going to be all right?”

  “Jah.”

  “Let me light the lamp.” He struck a match and lit the wick. “I’ll be in the hall.” He reached for the knob and hesitated. “Call me if you need me.”

  She nodded.

  Lindie waited until the door clicked. She then made her inspection. Nothing. Relief washed over her. Lord, please forgive me. I don’t know why I’m still struggling to accept all that’s happened. Help me, Jesus, to see this pregnancy through your eyes.

  Lindie sank to her knees and cried.

  He knocked. “Are you okay?”

  She wasn’t ready to leave the sanctuary of the bathroom.

  “Lindie?” He knocked again.

  She drew in a hitched breath. She wasn’t okay. This was all too much.

  “Cover yourself if you need to. I’m kumming in.” Josiah opened the door. He knelt beside her and pulled her into his arms. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have upset you.” He brushed the stray hairs away from her face and kissed her cheek.

  His tenderness soothed her.

  “Are you . . .?” His focus dropped to her abdomen.

  “I didn’t lose the boppli,” she whispered.

  “Praise God.” He wrapped her in a tighter hug.

  She silently thanked God for a concerned husband. He was a good man. Any woman would be singing praises to be married to him.

  “Can you get up?” He rose, reached for her elbow, and helped her off the floor.

  “Denki,” she squeaked as he ushered her into his arms. Lindie buried her face in the crook of his neck and closed her eyes as he rubbed her back.

  “For what?”

  “For nett despising me.”

  He pulled back. When she lowered her head, he tipped her chin up so that she had no choice but to look at him. “I wish you would tell me about your past.”

  She flinched. “I—I’m nett ready yet.”

  “I’m trying to understand, and I’ll wait . . . but I want you to know, no matter what, I’ll always be your husband.”

  Tears blurred her vision. She didn’t deserve him.

  “Kumm on. I’m taking you to bed.”

  “I have to redd-up the kitchen. The dishes aren’t even done.”

  “Tomorrow is another day.” He guided her down the hall and into the
bedroom. Once she was seated on the bed, he lit the lamp and went to her dresser. He pulled out a nightdress and handed it to her. “Are you going to be okay changing alone?”

  “Jah. Denki, though.”

  He strolled to the door and paused. “Don’t stay up too late. You need rest for your doktah’s appointment in the morning.” He left the room.

  Lindie eased into her nightdress. She would pray for a blizzard, if she thought God would listen.

  Josiah whispered another prayer thanking God that Lindie’s pain had subsided. He nearly gasped when he felt her abdomen. She was small—the baby no more than a bump. And this was her second trimester. After leaving Lindie’s room, he poked his head into his daughter’s room. “Don’t burn your lamp wick down. It’s time to go to sleep,” he signed.

  Hannah set her pencil down and stretched out her arms toward him.

  Josiah hugged her, then took a moment to study her picture. “Very good.” Lindie had been right about his daughter’s talent. The bird looked real. He waited until she packed her supplies, then he pulled the covers up and kissed her forehead. “Gut nacht.”

  His daughter hadn’t been this happy since before Caroline died.

  Neither had he.

  Josiah glanced at Lindie’s closed door. He still didn’t understand why she would want to risk delivering the baby without a doctor. Maybe the intense pain she had experienced was God’s way of helping her see she could not do this alone. Her stubborn determination to hide her past didn’t help.

  Josiah entered the kitchen. He didn’t want Lindie waking up to a sink full of dirty dishes. Besides, if he tried to go to bed now, he would only wrestle with his thoughts. Had she turned and faced him after he kissed her cheek in the bathroom, he would have kissed her the way he wanted. And that might have led him to break his own rules of the marital arrangement.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Mr. Plank?” The nurse stood at the end of the office lobby. His stomach pitted as he rose from his chair. It hadn’t been more than a few minutes since they took Lindie to the exam room. “Is something wrong?”

  The nurse smiled. “I thought you might like to see your baby on the ultrasound screen.”

  “Ah . . .” He exhaled louder than he intended.

  “Fathers.” She rolled her eyes. “You men are always so nervous.” Chuckling, the nurse turned. “Follow me. I’ll show you to the room.”

  He trailed the nurse to the first door on the left, then entered. A half second later his eyes adjusted to the darkened room. The dim light from the monitor illuminated Lindie’s unwelcoming stare.

  The nurse nudged him forward. Josiah cracked a smile at Lindie and inched closer. The black-and-white image on the screen sure didn’t look like a boppli until the woman doing the test pointed out the boppli’s positioning. He reached for Lindie’s hand and squeezed it. “It’s an amazing sight, jah?”

  The tiny, shadowy mass moved on the display. Her eyes welled and she nodded.

  Josiah looked off to his side at the small-framed woman who was busy adding more ointment to Lindie’s abdomen. Even to him her belly looked too small to be holding a baby. “Everything is all right, isn’t it?”

  “Once I’m finished getting the measurements, Doctor Ethridge will discuss everything with you.” The woman glided the wand over the gooey substance, then stopped. The screen faded to black. “I think I have all the measurements needed, but before you empty your bladder, I’d like the doctor to come in and take a look.” She disappeared from the room.

  Lindie stared at the ceiling.

  “I’m sure that’s standard,” he said.

  Doctor Ethridge entered the room. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said, washing his hands at the sink. He took the seat before the monitor and added gel to the wand. “This will probably feel cold.” He circled the wand around Lindie’s belly.

  “Did Lindie tell you about the pains she had last night?”

  This time she reached for his hand and squeezed it. Hard.

  Doctor Ethridge lifted the wand from her belly. “How would you describe the pain?”

  “Sharp . . . hot, like a fire poker was jabbing me.”

  “Can you show me where you felt the pain?”

  Lindie hesitated.

  Josiah took that as his clue to leave. “I’ll wait for you in the lobby.” He winked at Lindie and slipped out of the room.

  Stepping into the hallway, the nurse stopped him. “Doctor Ethridge wants me to draw your blood.”

  If only he had smothered his coughing yesterday while the doctor was around. Josiah followed her down the hallway and into the lab room.

  “Have a seat while I get things ready.” She motioned to the only chair.

  He sat. The posters on the wall showing the network of arteries and veins hadn’t changed. The refrigerator still hummed like a fan blade was bent.

  He didn’t need more lab work. Most people caught a cold in the winter. At least that was what he told himself.

  “You know the routine,” she said without looking up from arranging the supplies.

  Too well. Over the years he’d been poked so many times, he complained that his blood could leak just by squeezing his arm. But despite believing it was a waste of time, money, and good blood, Josiah pushed up his sleeve.

  She tied the rubber strap around his arm and tapped his veins until they gorged. She studied his arm. “Make a fist. I need to find a good vein. Doc wants the works.”

  The works meant anywhere from five to seven tubes. Six years ago when he gave that much blood, he nearly fell out. Not that the sight of blood brought on the willies. His veins had shut down. Collapsed, the nurse had told him. Bottom line, what he learned was that most of his blood was depleted of oxygen, which had caused the dizziness. He had a vivid memory of the foul scent of ammonia that had brought him back to consciousness.

  “You’re going to feel a little poke.” She drove the needle into his vein and blood pooled into the glass tube.

  Josiah closed his eyes and reviewed the last few weeks in his mind. The night sweats started after Eli had approached him about marrying Lindie. Those were stress induced. The coughing was the start of a cold. Nothing to worry about. The other routine questions that Doctor Ethridge had asked during his yearly exam weren’t as easy to dismiss: unexplained bleeding, bruising, lumps, rash, fever, and fatigue. He pushed the negative thoughts aside. Lindie needed him now. He would worry about his own health later.

  Josiah opened his eyes as the nurse filled the last tube and released the rubber strap.

  She pressed a piece of gauze where the needle had been and secured a Band-Aid over it. “How do you feel? Do you need a glass of orange juice?”

  “I’m fine.” He pushed his sleeve down. He would be even better once he could check on Lindie.

  Doctor Ethridge peered over his wire-rimmed glasses at Lindie. “No caffeine. No lifting. Limit your household chores. Do you have a powered washing machine?”

  She shook her head. “It’s a manual wringer.”

  He looked back at the paper and continued jotting notes. “No laundry.”

  “That’s nett possible.” Seated in front of the doctor’s desk, Lindie leaned forward to catch a glimpse of what he was writing. What did he want her to do all day, lie in bed? That wasn’t what Josiah had bargained for in a wife.

  Lindie pointed her finger at his paper. “You’re rendering me useless.”

  The door opened and the nurse led Josiah into the room. He sat in the empty chair beside her.

  “I was just reviewing a list of restrictions for Lindie to follow.”

  She sensed Josiah watching her, but couldn’t bring herself to look his way. He must already regret her presence in his life, and now he had reason to resent the arrangement. He hadn’t asked much of her. Some of the husbands of friends back home expected their wives to work out in the barn and field, on top of keeping up with the household duties. She had yet to see the inside of Josiah’s barns.

 
“Basically, I want her on light duty as much as possible.”

  “I told him that wasn’t doable,” she said to Josiah.

  “Jah, it is.” Josiah’s tone was stern, his words final.

  She shifted in her seat.

  “When do you want to see her again?”

  “You can make the appointment for two weeks, but if she cramps again, I’ll need to see her immediately.”

  “Okay.” Josiah leaned closer to her. “So if you get those pains again—”

  “I didn’t just kumm into the room. I heard what he said,” she snapped.

  She lowered her head and studied the cotton fabric of her dress. Josiah was a lot like her brother. Eli had treated her as though she were incapable of making decisions. Wise ones anyway. Josiah thought she was irresponsible for not eating more, and Eli had accused her of lacking sound judgment after she didn’t come home that night. Privately, she condemned herself. Part of her didn’t care if the baby lived. God certainly couldn’t be pleased with such selfish thoughts. Perhaps she should have taken the drug Moses tried to get her to take to end the pregnancy. At the time, she couldn’t imagine the morning after pill being part of God’s plan.

  “Lindie?”

  She lifted her head.

  Josiah and the doctor were standing.

  She rose and followed them into the hallway, then down the short corridor to the waiting room where she saw Ada and her husband sitting.

  “Lindie, what a surprise.” Ada crossed the room, a knowing grin on her face. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” She patted her extended belly. “I’m due at the first of the year.”

  Josiah winked at Lindie and motioned to the office window. “I’ll take care of the paperwork.” He made it as far as the magazine rack before Ada’s husband stopped him.

  Lindie was torn between listening to Ada talk about her pregnancy and trying to observe Josiah. She couldn’t decide how he felt at having run into the other couple.

  “Doktah Ethridge is a gut boppli doctor,” Ada said. “I think you’ll like him. Was this your first visit?”