The Amish Wonders Collection

by Ruth Reid

“Ah . . .”

  “I shouldn’t jump to conclusions. Doktah Ethridge is a general country doktah. He set mei sohn’s cast when he slipped on the ice last winter.” Her eyes twinkled with mischief. “But I know a pregnant woman when I see one,” she whispered.

  Lindie looked at Josiah for support, but he was too far away to be of any help. The men seemed engrossed in their own conversation. Judging by Josiah’s relaxed stance, they were probably talking about livestock.

  Ada nudged her. “So tell me, how are you and Hannah getting along?”

  “Gut.”

  The nurse entered the lobby. “Ada, if you’ll come with me, I’ll get your weight and vitals.”

  “We’ll talk more on Sunday.” Ada waved at her husband, then pointed at the nurse.

  Her husband left Josiah and the couple disappeared down the hall.

  Lindie met Josiah in front of the office window.

  “The doctor wants to see you in two weeks. Do you want a morning or afternoon appointment?”

  Lindie shrugged.

  “Afternoon, please,” Josiah said to the receptionist.

  “I’ll put you down for two o’clock.” She jotted the time on a slip of paper and handed it to Lindie. “We’ll see you in two weeks.”

  Her next appointment was two days before Christmas, traditionally one of the busiest cooking days of the year. She recalled how much she loved Mamm’s butter pecan cookies. She pictured herself as a young girl standing in front of the oven as they baked. The kitchen would be abuzz with laughter. Even the very young children would have participated in mixing the sugar-cookie dough. But if the doctor didn’t take her off bed rest, she would not be sharing this experience with Hannah.

  Cold air blasted her face.

  They walked with their heads down into the snowy gust of wind.

  He bunched the collar of his coat under his chin and drew his shoulders up. “If you don’t mind, I’d like your help picking out some paint and brushes. But I want to keep it a Christmas surprise.”

  “Sure.” She’d never known a child who received a store-bought gift for Christmas, unless it was a new pair of shoes. Even that was rare. Most shoes were handed down from older siblings or cousins. But never something worldly like paints.

  He opened the buggy door and she climbed inside. Her teeth chattered as she pulled the quilt over her legs.

  Molly’s winter coat was wet from the snow. Josiah untied the mare from the post, then jumped inside the buggy. White clouds escaped his mouth as he blew into his fisted hands.

  “It’s freezing out there,” he said with a shiver.

  Lindie pulled the quilt from around her neck and offered it to him. She hadn’t expected him to wrap his arm around her and pull her closer.

  “Ach!” Her stomach fluttered and she winced when he tucked the blanket between her backside and the bench.

  “Sorry,” Josiah said as he finished draping the quilt over her shoulder. He tucked it under her chin, then encased himself with her. “We need to warm up a minute.”

  Her internal heater ignited the moment he cocooned them. His warm breath on her cheek caused her to shudder uncontrollably.

  “Are you having pains again?”

  “I’m nett—” His hand blindly crawled under the cover, under her cape, and rested on her belly. She sucked in a breath. Now the flutter moved directly under his hand.

  “Have you felt the boppli move yet?”

  She shrugged. Tingles rippled. Jah, something was happening—because he had breached her personal space.

  “It might be too early. I don’t remember when Hannah started kicking.” His chest expanded and fell. Then his eyes widened and he jerked his hand away. “Ach . . . I’m sorry. I got carried away. We better go.” He grabbed the reins.

  Silence fell between them. He turned the buggy in the opposite direction as the art store.

  “I thought you wanted to stop at the store for paint.”

  “I forgot you need bed rest.”

  That was something she wanted to forget. She couldn’t take care of Hannah lying in bed all day. What would people think of her? What would Simon think?

  He crinkled his face. “What’s wrong?”

  “Ada knows about the boppli.” She cringed. “I didn’t tell her. She guessed.”

  “Don’t concern yourself about it.”

  How could she not? Just the other day he panicked when he thought the women knew.

  “It’s fine, Lindie. Really, it is.” He sounded sincere. “I over-reacted the other day. I was wrong.” He reached for her hand and squeezed it. “We’ve been married a month, let them draw their own conclusions.”

  “And when the boppli arrives three months earlier than everyone expects?”

  “We will still be the proud parents of a new addition to the family.”

  She dared not remind him that Simon would find out too. He hadn’t shown any sign of accepting her yet. This pregnancy would compound the matter.

  Lindie cleared her throat. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to bring up. Why isn’t Hannah in schul?” Without giving him a chance to respond, she continued, “The child is in the haus too much. She’s isolated and . . . and probably lonely. She needs to be around other children more.”

  “She was in schul . . . for a while.” He shrugged. “The more she fell behind in her learning, the more she acted out. Someone even told me that I didn’t discipline her enough. I was embarrassed and angry. It doesn’t look gut for a man to nett have control of his haushold.”

  Lindie understood. Even at her age, Eli thought protecting her meant sending her away—marrying her off.

  “Will you please give the matter some thought? She could return after Christmas break.”

  He cringed.

  “She needs to move forward. I would offer to homeschool her, but I think it would help her to be in a learning environment with other children.”

  “Jah, I agree.”

  The snow continued to fall the entire ride home.

  Josiah pulled up to the house and climbed out. “It’s icy,” he said, extending his hand. He walked with her up the steps and into the house. “I’ll be leaving shortly to pick up the bishop’s son, Jakob. He’s going to start helping in the workshop. Do you mind making up a list of brushes and any other painting supplies that come to mind?”

  A smile rested on her lips. “I think I saw a beginner’s kit. It would have everything that she needs.”

  “Hmm . . . a beginner’s set? Will it have all those fancy brushes?”

  “Probably nett.” She shrugged her shoulders out of the cape, then hung it on the hook.

  “I want the very best for mei maydel.”

  “Be careful, Josiah.” Lindie wanted to add that it wasn’t good to spoil a child. She untied her winter bonnet and removed it. Snow fluttered to the floor. “Maybe you should consider starting off small. She could build her supplies as she learns.”

  “So you think I’m spoiling her?”

  She lifted one foot to remove her boot and wobbled.

  Josiah steadied her while she finished taking them off. “Well?” He waited.

  “You said yourself that you wanted the very best for your maydel.” She pushed the wet boots out of the way. “Sounds like spoiling to me.”

  “So it does.” He smiled. “There should be paper inside the top drawer of the desk. Will you jot me a list of the names of those fancy brushes?”

  “Sure.” She sat down at the desk, pulled out a piece of paper from the drawer, and wrote down the names. She also made a list of ingredients she needed for baking.

  The door opened and Simon and Hannah entered. Hannah shucked her coat at the door.

  Simon craned his head toward the desk. “Did you find the package that came for you, Lindie? I left it on the kitchen table.”

  “A package? For me?” Lindie shot out of the desk chair.

  She scooted past them and rushed into the kitchen. The return label on the box was Eli’s address.
She grabbed a knife from the drawer and cut open the package. Yarn. She stopped herself from squealing with delight. Margaret knew how much she loved to knit. Lindie pulled out several different colored balls. At the bottom of the box, she found material—enough yards to make several outfits for the baby. Perhaps even a new dress for Hannah and herself. She opened the note.

  Lindie,

  I wanted to send you some material.

  I wish we could spend the day sewing together like old times.

  The yarn is left over from knitting, but you should be able to make plenty of potholders out of it.

  I miss you. Write when you can.

  Margaret

  Lindie smiled. “I miss you too,” she whispered.

  “Nau you’ll have something to do while you’re on bed rest,” Josiah said, coming up beside her.

  “Shh.” Lindie didn’t want Simon to overhear and ask if she was ill. She reached for cups from the cupboard and set them on the counter.

  “Nay caffeine,” Josiah said as she lifted the coffeepot.

  “Half a cup.”

  He shook his head. “The doktah said none.”

  Footsteps stopped behind them. Simon cleared his throat. “While you’re going after Jakob, I’d like to talk with Lindie.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Lindie tried to recall the last time Simon had spoken directly to her. She wiggled the kettle. “Can I pour you a cup of kaffi?”

  “Nay denki.” He pulled a chair away from the table and sat. “Will you join me?”

  Lindie returned the kettle to the stovetop. She swept her hand over the front of her dress and drew in a steady breath. She took the seat opposite him at the table.

  Simon cleared his throat. “I know things were rough for you at the start given the . . . unusual circumstances.”

  He hadn’t indicated he was aware of her pregnancy before, but she couldn’t imagine what else he could be referring to.

  “You seem to have adjusted.”

  “I think so.”

  “Hannah has too. And Josiah . . .” His voice drifted off.

  Lindie swallowed hard. “Is something wrong?” She didn’t know Simon well enough to decipher the distant look in his eyes or his sober expression. Earlier, under the quilt in the buggy, she had felt so close to Josiah. His face had lit up when he spread his hand over her belly. In that moment, she’d allowed herself to pretend it was Josiah’s baby growing inside of her.

  “Josiah’s been under a lot of stress lately.”

  Lindie nodded. “That’s mei fault.” She barely mouthed the words. Simon had told her that himself not long ago.

  “This cough he has . . . it’s lingered for weeks. He hasn’t had a cold this prolonged in six years. Has he complained of nacht sweats?”

  She hadn’t shared the night with him to know the answer. Warmth spread over her face, and she shifted on the chair and looked down at the puddle of melted snow from Simon’s boots.

  “I’m worried about him. I don’t know that he should be taking trees down.”

  Lindie bowed her head. Give me the right words of comfort, Lord. She looked at him and spoke softly. “I know it was hard on both you and Josiah losing Caroline the way you did. I don’t know why he’s so adamant about timbering again. I told him mei bruder would understand.”

  “I’m worried he isn’t well enough to be working in the woods.”

  The door opened and Hannah peeked around the corner. Josiah walked up to the kitchen table. “I left word for Jakob to kumm over when he can. The bishop said he was running an errand.”

  “I think I’ll work on the pallets,” Simon said as he made his way to the door.

  Josiah leaned close to Lindie. “What was that all about?”

  “He’s worried about you.”

  He pulled back and pointed at his chest. “Me?”

  “He thinks you’ve been coughing too much.”

  “Someone needs to tell him this is flu season.” Josiah laughed, but it broke into a cough.

  “Hmm. Sounds like Simon has a valid point. I think you need to stay inside where it’s warm.”

  “Are you the doktah nau?” He wagged his brows. “You’re on bed rest yourself. How are you going to take care of me? Because I can cough a lot more.” He exaggerated a fake cough, then winked.

  “In all seriousness, Josiah, I don’t think you should work in the woods. Wait until spring.”

  His playfulness sobered. “This is something I have to do.”

  “I’ll write Eli a letter and explain how—”

  His fingers covered her mouth. “It isn’t about Eli.” He dropped his hand, turned, and picked up the box she’d received. “Nau follow me.”

  She trailed him to her bedroom where he set the box on the floor, then fluffed the feather pillows and pulled the covers back.

  “Get in,” he said.

  Only two weeks to get Christmas gifts and baking done and she was stuck lying in bed all day. Lindie batted her eyes but failed to get a different response from him. She plopped down on the bed.

  Josiah sat on the edge of the mattress. “In a few minutes, I’m going to send Hannah in here. I don’t want her outside when I bring those trees down. Can you make sure she stays with you?”

  Josiah decided not to wait for Jakob. If the trees were already down when Jakob arrived, Josiah could use him to help debark and lumber them. Besides, the more he thought about it, he couldn’t risk the trees falling the wrong way. He didn’t even want to bring Moose out until the trees were ready to be hauled out of the woods.

  Josiah sharpened the axe against the grinding stone, his thoughts flitting. Could he really move forward? Simon seemed to think Josiah was ready. But he and Lindie had a long way to go before any real change would happen. They must build a friendship first before he would consider inviting her into his bed. A prickly sweat broke out under his clothes at the thought. He wasn’t ready.

  Josiah checked the blade’s sharpness. It was ready. There was no sense putting this off. He’d spent three years wondering what life would be like had the tree fallen in a different direction.

  The snow crunched under his boots as he made his way out to the woods. The long walk provided ample opportunity to unearth the past. Memories he’d buried in order to protect his heart now were exposed. It was time he dealt with reality. He supposed this was part of the healing process. Until recently, he never thought he would want to go forward.

  Josiah scanned the area. The lumber trail, once wide enough for a wagon, was overgrown with brush. The chains would easily get tangled. He chose a standing of elm trees close to the edge so it wouldn’t be too difficult for Moose to drag them out.

  Josiah leaned the axe against the tree, pulled his hankie out of his pocket, and wiped the sweat from his brow. Taking the first swing was more difficult than he thought. He swept the snow off a fallen log and sat down.

  Jesus, I need your strength to get beyond this moment. I believe Caroline is with you and it’s time for me to go on with mei life. Hannah, Simon . . . we all need to move forward. Jesus, will you show me how to open mei heart to Lindie? Love her the way you love the church?

  Josiah sat with his elbows on his knees and rested his head in his hands until the cold and wet log soaked into his pants. He stood, walked around the selected tree, and determined the best direction for it to fall. He chopped a few notches in the side he wanted to drop, then moved to the opposite side.

  He readied the axe as someone cleared his throat behind him. He brought the axe back down.

  “I thought you could use some help,” Simon said.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  Simon nodded.

  Josiah and Simon worked in unison, both consumed with their own thoughts. When the tree hit the ground with a thunderous thud, they shared a moment of silence.

  Josiah wiped his face with his coat sleeve. He cleared his throat. “I’ll start removing the limbs if you want to get Moose and the chains.”

>   “Jah, okay.” Simon limped over to the field.

  Josiah straddled the log and chiseled away at the branches with the hatchet. When Simon returned with Moose, Jakob was with him. Several hours later Josiah held his lower back and stretched. Every muscle ached. He ambled into the house exhausted.

  Lindie met him at the door. She helped him out of his coat, then insisted he sit down.

  She knelt down in front of him and unlaced his boots. “Are you okay? You look dog tired.” She tugged hard and his sock came off with the boot. “You smell like cedar pitch. I thought you were taking down elm trees,” she said, pulling off the other boot.

  “I needed an extra tree.”

  “What for?” She set his socks aside.

  He leaned down and smiled. “Can’t a man have any secrets?”

  “You were out there so long, you had me going crazy with worry.”

  He reached for her hands and pulled her up off her knees, then stood. “I think I like the sound of that,” he said, leaning toward her. He caught himself about to kiss her and jerked back. He hadn’t meant to embarrass her, but a crimson shade flashed over her face.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  “I’ll get you a dry pair of socks.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Under Josiah’s mandate, Lindie had followed the doctor’s orders and for four long days she’d stayed in bed. It hadn’t been all bad. She’d had plenty of time to knit Josiah and Simon scarves for Christmas. She hoped they weren’t too put off by the multiple colors. None of the balls of yarn were full skeins. But since Joseph in the Bible had a coat of many colors, maybe they’d be okay with it.

  But now it was Sunday. Lindie tossed the covers aside, crawled out of bed, and quickly selected a forest-green dress and black apron to wear. Josiah couldn’t possibly expect her to miss church service.

  Standing at the stove, Josiah looked sideways at her and frowned as she entered the kitchen. Not the warm greeting she’d wanted.

  “What are you doing out of bed?” He stirred the oatmeal, which smelled like cinnamon.