The Amish Midwife's Courtship

by Cheryl Williford

  “Ya, we do, maybe later,” Molly returned, ignoring him as she waited on the next person in line.

  Mose put his arm around Isaac’s shoulders and spoke to him like an older brother as they strode away. “Don’t be discouraged. Women are strange but delightful creatures. They either love you or find you unbearably distasteful, and that can be in a single day.” He laughed ruefully and downed the last of his tea in one long gulp.

  Isaac watched Molly laugh out loud at something a beardless Amish man said. Jealousy ate at him. He wanted her to be that relaxed around him, show him the better side of her like she used to do, before the lie. He turned his head toward Mose. “Ya, I’m constantly in and out of hot water with Molly, and most of the time I have no idea why.”

  “My daed gave me some good advice years ago. He said, ‘treat your wife with dignity and respect. Show your love in actions, not words.’ I find it doesn’t hurt if you make sure you come home while the food’s still hot on the table, too. Use Daed’s bit of advice, and I can guarantee you’ll always have a happy wife and kids.”

  “Kids?” Isaac hadn’t thought about having kinner. If he and Molly did marry, children would be the natural result of their union. Was he ready to be a father? What if he became an angry, bitter old man like his own father? But then, he knew he didn’t have to worry about children. Once Molly heard about his past, she’d break the engagement, finish with him for good. No one would blame her.

  “Don’t look so scared. Kinner are wonderful blessings from Gott. I can’t wait for our next one to get here.”

  “But the responsibilities and money it takes to run a family... How do you handle the stress?”

  Mose sat on a bench and made room for Isaac. “It’s easy. I take each day as it comes and give all my concerns to Gott. He does the rest. He will for you, too.”

  “Molly doesn’t love me.” Isaac bowed his head, ashamed to be saying the hard, cruel facts out loud.

  “Oh, I think she does. I know Molly. She wouldn’t be letting Daed or her mamm put her in this situation if she didn’t want to get married. The Molly I know is smart and resourceful. If she wanted out of this marriage arrangement, you’d be the first to know. Believe me. Deep down Molly has to know Daed wouldn’t unchurch her over a lie, even if it is a big one.” Mose looked at him and laughed. “Nee, not his Molly. She’s like his own child.”

  “But why has she allowed Ulla to bully her into this rash decision?”

  “Because deep down, Molly wants to marry you, bensel. Think about it.”

  Isaac sighed. He didn’t know what to think. All he knew for sure was that his feelings for Molly had suddenly grown into something more powerful than his guilt about the past, or concern about his poverty. He was prepared to tell her about Thomas. He had to set the record straight, and today was as good a day as any. “Ya, you may be right. Maybe she does have feelings for me.”

  “Have you told her how you feel?”

  “Nee. Not yet.” Isaac rubbed his hands down his thighs, his stomach in a twist. “But I will.”

  * * *

  All her chores done and too tired to care who won the pie contest, Molly gathered her belongings and crossed the church lawn, stopping only to bend and pat the old church cat who lived under the tool shed.

  “Hello, kitty. You like your neck scratched? Ya, it’s gut.” Silky soft, the adult cat began to purr and lean its body into her fingers.

  “So you sneak away like a thief in the night.”

  Molly didn’t have to turn. She knew who was speaking loud enough for everyone to hear. She stood and turned, facing her mother, not prepared to do battle in front of the whole church, but not in the mood to be mocked, either. “Nee, Mamm. Not sneaking away. Just going home. It’s been a long day. I’m tired.”

  Dressed in a pale shade of blue, Ulla looked like she’d made an effort with her appearance today, something she seldom did. Her kapp was perfectly positioned, her dress starched and crisply pressed. “I see Isaac has already abandoned you. Too bad you didn’t listen to your mamm about Samuel. He would never have left you to walk home alone.”

  She looked directly into her mother’s eyes and spoke softly. “Ya, I know. Samuel is perfect. I’ve heard it a thousand times. I just don’t happen to love Samuel. Doesn’t that matter to you at all?”

  “Is it a sin for a mother to want what is best for her younger daughter? Nee, I think not.” Ulla tugged at Molly’s arm, almost shaking her off balance.

  Molly sighed. “What’s best for me is—”

  “You are too young to know what is best for you. You’ve proven that with your foolish choices. What has Isaac Graber got that Samuel didn’t have? Samuel has money, a strong position in the community. Isaac has a run-down shop and no future here in Pinecraft. I’ve made a good match for you, but you whine about the foolishness of love. It’s your financial future you should be most concerned about.”

  “Didn’t you love Daed when you married him?” Molly jerked her arm away.

  “Your father.” Ulla laughed, her words grating. “Nee, I didn’t love him. Not for one moment. He was weak and dull, even as a young man. I wed to get out of my parents’ haus, to have freedom, but all I got was hard work and children.”

  “But Daed loved you,” Molly declared, her voice rising slightly. “He worked until the day he died providing for us.”

  “Ya, well, that he did, but it wasn’t enough. He and I struggled our whole life, and when he died he left me penniless, and I continued to struggle to support you and your sister. Do you know how it will feel to have to rely on the community for food?” Ulla leaned in, her voice lowered. “That’s why I’ve been courting John. I’m going to marry him. There will be no more leaning on people who whisper behind my back and gossip.”

  Ulla lifted her hands, as if to shove Molly away. “But go your own path. Find this foolish love that brings you so much happiness. As for me, I will do as I always do. Take care of myself.” Ulla turned and walked through the cluster of muttering onlookers, her back straight and proud.

  Molly felt strong arms slip around her shoulders and turned to find Isaac, his face etched in anger as he watched her mother stride away.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Isaac lowered himself, sitting on the same deck step as Molly. He watched as she dug her toes into the green grass underfoot, her flip-flops tossed to one side. Today was the first time he’d seen her tiny feet bare. She always wore black dress shoes with thin stockings. He suspected the pale pink nail polish on the tips of her toes had something to do with her niece Beatrice.

  Molly turned toward him, her face still blotchy from all the crying she’d done as they walked back to Mose and Sarah’s house together after the pie contest.

  “I’m always saying danke to you, Isaac,” she murmured, her voice low, the wind catching her words of apology and carrying them away.

  “What are you thanking me for now?”

  She surprised him when she rested her head on his shoulder for a few moments and then whispered, “For putting up with all the drama. For being there when I need you most.” She took a deep breath, gave him a watery grin and then looked away. “I’m sorry you had to deal with my wailing. All I seem to do lately is cry like a fool. You must have been embarrassed with all those people walking past, gawking at me.”

  “I have to admit it’s not every day I walk down the street with a sobbing woman on my arm, but for you, anything.” He grinned at her, but her chin was down again, her shoulders slumped.

  “We have to have a serious talk.” Molly sat upright, her voice hoarse from crying. She shielded her eyes from the sun shining through the tree’s canopy overhead. “We can’t allow the banns to be announced tomorrow.” Scooting closer, her expression turned hopeful. “Perhaps you should try and talk to Bishop Fischer again, convince him you have no interest in
marriage, especially to me. I would completely understand if you told him I was an unfit woman, not the kind you want to tie yourself to. He’d probably have something to say, but isn’t getting lectured better than a marriage you don’t want?”

  “I could try to talk to him, but I’ve grown kind of fond of the idea of marrying you.” He shoved back the bill of his black wool hat and pretended to write in the air. “Mrs. Isaac Graber. It has a nice ring... Don’t you think?”

  Molly twisted, her knees bumping his legs. “You can’t be serious.” Her dark eyes grew round with surprise.

  “I am,” Isaac proclaimed. “I’m very serious. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. It’s time I marry. I need a wife. Someone to do my laundry and cook my meals. I need to be practical.” He smiled at her as he said the last sentence, but his stomach was in a ball of knots. He was stalling. He had to say the right words, how he really felt about her, about what he’d done to Thomas.

  “Yes, but what about love and commitment? Are you willing to marry without love?”

  “You seemed fond enough of me just a moment ago.” His brow went up in a suggestive manner. “You just had your head on my shoulder, and that’s an outrageous act for a woman who insists she’s not courting me and says she feels no affection.”

  “We aren’t courting,” she declared and then amended her statement with a shake of her head. “Well, not really courting. It’s all an act. You know it. I know it. You only agreed to help stave off Samuel’s unwanted advances. Otherwise I would never have asked—”

  “What? Asked me to court you?” He pushed his thumbs under his suspenders and snapped them. “I think I’m a pretty fair catch, considering the considerable lack of local young men to pick from.”

  “Has anyone ever told you that you’re conceited, Isaac Graber?”

  “Nope. You’d be the first.” Isaac shrugged. “Why don’t we just go along with the ruse, let the banns be read, continue to court each other and see what happens. You never know. We might end up—”

  The back door flew open and Beatrice ran out onto the deck, shouting, “Aunt Molly, come quick! Mamm’s having the baby.”

  * * *

  Working on autopilot, Isaac managed to cook a bubbling pan of franks and beans and not burn the simple meal. He peeled three bananas and sliced them, chopped in a couple of apples and added a few walnuts chunks to the fruit salad.

  A green grape tossed high in the air landed in his mouth. He chewed as he topped off the healthy dessert with the handful of the juicy green grapes.

  “How long has it been now?”

  Isaac placed three small plastic plates on the table and then answered Mose. “Five hours, but who’s counting?”

  Mose tied a handmade bib of terry cloth around Levi’s chubby neck and kissed the little boy on his rosy cheek. “He wants his mamm. He’s been crying for hours. Sarah would have a fit if she knew I was feeding the kinner this late in the evening, but—”

  “You’ve been a bit busy, Mose. Don’t be so hard on yourself. The kinner are strong. They won’t die from eating cookies once in a while instead of a hot meal.”

  “Shh. Not so loud. Sarah might hear and come out of that bed. I know her. She’s a stickler for routine and homemade meals.” Mose smiled, but there was no joy in his grimace. Just worry.

  “Mamm said our sister will be here soon,” Beatrice declared, her excitement visible in her shining eyes and the toothy grin that exposed her first missing tooth.

  “Did you sneak into that room again?” Mose demanded, his tone harsher than usual.

  Beatrice shrugged. “Yes, but Mercy told me to do it. She wanted to see Mamm.” She pointed at her younger sister and almost fell out of her chair trying to avoid her finger being bitten by her younger sister.

  “You both went in?” Mose’s brows rose.

  “No, I only went in. Molly pushed me out the door.”

  “Gut, I’m glad she did. You must not bother your mamm right now. She and Molly are very busy, and they don’t need kinner around.” He turned toward his younger daughter and frowned. “Mercy, don’t bite your sister. We’ve talked about this many times. You must be a gut girl.”

  Mercy’s face puckered, preparing for a boisterous wail.

  Mose dropped into the chair next to Levi and spooned food into the baby’s mouth as he thundered, “Enough, both of you.” He wiped Levi’s face with a napkin and lowered his voice. “Eat your meal.”

  Isaac stuck a forkful of beans in his mouth and chewed. So, this is what it’s like to be a daed. No wonder his own father often walked the back acres of their farm. Probably to get away from his own kinner.

  He grinned as Beatrice glanced over at him, her mouth bulging with fresh fruit, a twinkle of mischief in her eyes. Her father’s tirade hadn’t affected her one bit. She was getting a new sibling, and nothing was going to spoil her mood. She insisted the child was going to be a girl, and Isaac secretly hoped she was wrong. Every man needed sons, but a better son than Isaac had been to his own father. He had pushed his daed away because of the man’s strict rules. Rules that had probably kept him safe and grounded throughout his life until Thomas’s death.

  Levi began to raise a fuss, squirming, his short legs trying to push out of his chair. Mose wiped at the tot’s mouth, stood the tiny boy on the floor. The child toddled toward the toy box a few feet away. “That’s right. You play while we eat, son. Mamm’s busy right now, but she’ll be wanting you soon enough.”

  He looked over at Isaac after wiping down the girls’ faces and hands and excusing them from the table. “What could be taking so long? Sarah had Levi so quickly. I was hoping...” His words trailed off. He tugged at his beard as he glanced toward the hallway, then jumped out of his chair as the doorbell chimed. “That’ll be Mamm. She’s come to help Molly deliver the bobbel.”

  Isaac gathered up the dishes, scraping leftovers into the bin. He’d had this job at home as a young boy, his mother believing her sons should know how to fend for themselves in the kitchen as well as her daughters.

  Theda hurried into the kitchen, her skirt swinging as she made the sharp turn into the hallway and quickly greeted him. “Hello, Isaac. Forgive me, but I must hurry.”

  Isaac watched as Otto Fischer patted his son on the back. Mose spoke, his words only for his father’s ears. Otto hugged his son, holding on to his hand as he said, “Ya, well. This is true, but you should not fret. Sarah will be fine. Greta’s death was unfortunate, but not something that happens every day. You know Gott is with your frau. Soon the bobbel will be born. Gott’s will be done.”

  Needing to keep himself busy, Isaac put a kettle of water on to boil and lined up mugs for coffee. It might be a long night, and something hot to drink would soothe the nerves.

  “Ah, I thought I heard someone fiddling around in here.” Otto stood just inside the kitchen archway, his hat in hand, the gray hair on his head standing to attention from fingers the older man kept running through his disheveled mop. “You’re here with Molly?”

  “Ya, I came to talk to her about the wedding,” Isaac said.

  “This is a gut thing you do, Isaac Graber.” He walked closer and patted him on the back. “Keep your heart open. All this nonsense about lies and Ulla’s persistence will pass, and you’ll have a fine wife to go home to each night. You mark my words. Molly is a loving woman, but a bit spirited like her mamm,” he interjected with an amused shrug. “All her life Molly’s been a jewel to this community. She can be counted on in a pinch. She’ll not disappoint you.”

  Isaac added a scoop of instant coffee to each cup and stirred, listening to Otto Fischer’s words and agreeing with him. He wanted to confess he already had strong feelings for Molly, but didn’t say a word. The time wasn’t right. Not until she’d heard his story and accepted his past. Until then he would keep words of love to himself.

 
* * *

  Drenched in sweat, Sarah writhed on the bed, her body doubled-up in pain. Molly glanced over at the bedside clock. It had been less than two minutes since the birth of the rosy-cheeked baby boy with hair the color of corn. But Sarah still suffered pains as regular as hard labor. Molly had witnessed this situation only once, but felt sure she knew what was happening.

  “I feel the need to push again,” Sarah cried out, her eyes wild, pleading for help.

  Molly and Theda worked as a silent team. The older woman slipped a sliver of ice into Sarah’s mouth as Molly pulled back the sheet to do a quick physical examination, and then gasped as a baby shot to the foot of the bed, its tiny body blue and covered in mucus and blood.

  Reaching for the soft cloth shoved into the waistband of her apron, Molly gently wiped at the baby girl’s mouth and nose, feverishly remembering procedures for underweight babies, facts she’d been taught by her mother. Not bothering to cut the cord yet, she siphoned out what she could from the baby’s mouth and then lifted the baby and blew quick, gentle puffs of air into her lungs. Using her finger, Molly cleared the baby’s small air passage, blew again and then used her hand to form a funnel for the air to flow through. Molly’s heart beat loud in her ears. Gott, help me. Breathe life into this baby’s body.

  “My bobbel,” Sarah wailed, struggling to sit up. “Is it alive? Please, Gott. Let it be alive.”

  “Don’t fret, Sarah. Molly has everything under control. Your bobbel will be just fine,” Theda promised, her gaze shifting between Sarah and Molly’s quick movements.

  The blond-haired baby twitched and then moved stronger in Molly’s hands, its heart-shaped mouth opening like a tiny bird’s as it took in gasps of air and released a whimpering cry. Right before Molly’s eyes, the baby’s body began to grow pink with life, her cries growing stronger, more robust. “She’s alive, Sarah. Your baby girl is alive,” Molly sobbed, the stress of the moment taking a toll. “But she’s very tiny, maybe four pounds. We should get her to the hospital to be examined by a pediatrician.”