Her Secret Amish Child

by Cheryl Williford

  They didn’t seem to have a care in the world and she envied their joy, even though she knew Gott wouldn’t approve of her jealousy. The Ordnung was clear, the scriptures taught to her at her father’s knee concise and unbending. Wanting what others had would bring forth sin and death. She’d made enough mistakes. Took too many wrong roads. She had to learn to be content with her life and make do.

  She tried to shrug off her self-pity. Today was a gut day. She should be happy. Smile even. Benuel had been officially exonerated from any blame for the fire and a homeless man charged. Fredrik’s condition had improved enough for him to be in a regular room and Benuel was finally coming home after three long days in the hospital.

  The night before, Benuel had finally talked to her and Saul about why he’d run away, how terrified he’d been that Ishmael would steal him away from her and take him back to Ohio, to the farm. He’d been ashamed of himself for hitting the boy in school, afraid he’d become cruel like Ishmael.

  Her shoulders straightened with resolve. She had to set aside the past five years of her life, reignite her joy of living and push forward. But there was so much left undone. So much uncertainty in her and Benuel’s lives. Her strength would be tested, but with Gott’s help she could do anything. He’d proved Himself a faithful friend and had been with her through her most difficult times while married to Jonah.

  She picked up her pace and hurried along, hoping if she walked fast enough all the foolish mistakes she’d made would somehow be left behind her.

  The halls of the hospital’s children’s wing were painted in bright and cheerful colors, the walls plastered with posters of friendly faces of smiling rabbits, but the smell of chemical disinfectant hung heavy in the air.

  She paused two feet away from Benuel’s door when she heard the sound of laughter coming from the room. She approached slowly. Her brother’s deep laugh joined in with Benuel’s high-pitched shriek of joy. Her steps quickened to the door. “Well, someone certainly feels better today,” she said with a smile and did her best not to cry at the sight of Saul holding Benuel in his arms. “It seems you two have become good friends.”

  “Mamm!” Benuel wailed, his arms going out to her. “The nurse said I could go home today. Is it true?”

  He coughed, but the sound disturbed her far less than it had when he’d first entered this place of healing. She was grateful for all the good care he’d received. “Ya, it’s true.”

  Saul passed her son’s warm body to her and smiled. “He’s a handful, this one. I know only one other person who fidgets as much.”

  Their eyes connected for a brief moment and she saw his approval of Benuel, but recognized his comment was to remind her they still needed to talk about Fredrik and the role he would play in this child’s life.

  “I remember you being just as squirmy,” she threw back with a smile, but knew Saul was right. Benuel was a carbon copy of Fredrik, down to his radish-like toes.

  Saul grinned as the boy wiggled out of his mother’s arms and grabbed the carryall from her hand. “Is this my clothes?” he asked, dumping the contents on the bed before Lizbeth could react. He stripped off his hospital pajamas. With all his might he pushed his leg into the pressed pair of trousers, lost balance and ended up a giggling pile on the floor.

  “Perhaps if you slow down a bit you might be able to accomplish your goal, young soh,” she admonished, but couldn’t hold back the laughter bubbling up. Benuel had made it through the fire, his lungs healing so quickly even the nurses were amazed at his progress. “Here, let me help you this one time.”

  “Nee, I’m a big boy. I can do it.” He so naturally slipped into Pennsylvania Deitch, his accent as heavy as Jonah’s had been.

  Lizbeth lifted her head and looked over at Saul. Tears shimmered in the tall, handsome man’s blue eyes. “He is a handful,” she admitted, “but we are working on the value of self-control and doing what is requested of us.” She laughed when Saul chuckled at her words. “We are trying.”

  “Let me do that, old soh,” Saul said to Benuel and lifted the boy off the floor and onto the bed. “You shove your leg in and I’ll hold your pants.”

  “Nee, I can do it,” Benuel repeated and pulled away from his uncle’s reach. He struggled until he managed to get both legs in where they belonged. “I am five now.”

  “This little mann has a mind of his own and I have a feeling it will be many years of struggle before you reach your goal. But you’re not alone. You have family and...others willing to invest their lives into Benuel.”

  Again a reference to Fredrik. She nodded. Saul was right. It would take a great deal of work and patience to deal with an ADHD child. She’d need all the help she could get. Especially Fredrik’s.

  As she watched Benuel’s arms shove into the sleeves of his long-sleeved shirt, her thoughts stayed on Fredrik. She knew he was getting better day by day. Saul spent most of his days with the injured man and shared with her what he had seen and heard each night at the dinner table.

  She’d almost stopped by Fredrik’s room today, but dread had stopped her. She was probably the last person he’d want to see after what she’d done to his life. Being robbed of his soh’s childhood couldn’t sit well with him. There could still be a high price to pay.

  “I have a message for you.”

  “Ya?” she said and glanced over at Saul, expecting him to speak freely.

  “Let’s get one of the nurses to help this young man finish up with his hair combing and tooth brushing.”

  Her brow raised. “Someone?”

  Saul nodded, his lips pursed. “I told Fredrik we’d be down in a bit.”

  Fredrik wanted to see her? She bit her lip. She wasn’t prepared, but would she ever be? What he had to say could ruin her life. “Perhaps you should have spoken to me first before you agreed.”

  “I think you owe him at least a conversation.”

  She winced. “Ya, you are right,” she admitted, her heart thumping hard at the thought of answering Fredrik’s questions, listening to his accusations.

  Occupied with trying to tie his own shoes, Benuel didn’t seem to notice when she and Saul left the room a moment later. Lizbeth marched past the nurse’s station, her mind overwhelmed with the next step in her life. She had to let Fredrik in. She had no choice, but why did she suddenly feel so relieved? Was it because Benuel would finally have Fredrik as his father?

  Hadn’t she wanted this for a long time? For Fredrik to be there every time she looked up? Had she been fighting her love for Fredrik all this time, lying to herself? Was he the man Gott had created for her? She hoped so.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The red-faced nurse flounced out of the room, leaving behind her simply put words. “Either you eat your breakfast of bacon and eggs, Mr. Lapp, or there will be nothing until lunch, and that’s a good four hours away.”

  “Powdered eggs and rubbery bacon don’t appeal to me today,” he called to the slowly closing door at the foot of the bed. He suffered a fit of coughing for his rebellious words.

  She thrust the door open a crack and shoved her head back in. Her eyes sparkled with determination. “And Nurse O’Brian will not be sneaking in vending machine doughnuts or Snickers bars today. No more Cokes. Not on my watch.”

  He grinned at her, feeling good about something for the first time in days. Getting a rise out of the old girl confirmed what he’d suspected. He was getting better, stronger, maybe even ready to go home.

  Her face softened, becoming almost motherly. “Good food is what you need, Fredrik. Not garbage.”

  “I’d eat gut food, if you brought me some.” His thumb jerked toward the uneaten breakfast tray. “I wouldn’t feed this swill to a pig,” he said and grinned mischievously around a cough. He added for good measure, “If I owned one. But danki for being so concerned about me.”

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nbsp; Her lips set in a firm line. “It’s my job,” she declared and shut the door behind her.

  His lips drew back in a full smile, his thoughts instantly going to Benuel. His soh. “My soh.” The words sounded natural coming out of his mouth. Joy flooded his spirit every time he said it. He was a father, the child’s real father.

  He’d felt an affinity to the boy since he’d watched the hyperactive child try to function in a world moving far too slowly for him. He knew the frustrations the boy faced. He’d dealt with racing thoughts, the inability to sit still for longer than a millisecond. Starting now, he would become a constant in his son’s life. He would make sure the world made more sense to Benuel. He would make a difference, with Gott’s help.

  Thoughts of Lizbeth cascaded in and were pushed away, confined to the dark recesses of his mind until he could figure out how he felt about what she had done. He didn’t understand, but he would in a matter of minutes, as soon as Saul brought her to his room. He knew Lizbeth better than most. He would reserve judgment until he heard her reasons for withholding Benuel. He owed the mother of his son that much.

  Fredrik shoved the tray on wheels away from the bed, threw back the sheet, then stopped. He eyed the hard cast on his arm, the bandage on his left thigh. He thought of the smaller bandage taped over the cut on the side of his shaved head.

  He wanted to splash his face and comb what little hair hadn’t burned off his head. Brushing his teeth with his left arm had proved difficult the night before, but it had been a hallelujah moment when he’d accomplished the task. He was glad he had the strength to get out of bed alone, to wait on himself for a change.

  He hurt in places he couldn’t see or touch, but he continued to make his way to the bathroom, flipped on the light with his cast and whistled as he accomplished his ablutions.

  With his left hand, he combed through the dirty hair at the base of his neck and turned toward the mirror to see if he’d accomplished his goal. Not impressed with what he saw, he wiggled a singed brow at his own reflection and accepted his limitations. Using his cane, he ambled over to the comfortable-looking padded chair in the corner.

  As he sat, his stomach rumbled. He rubbed it, leaned back and closed his eyes, picturing his mother’s fluffy pumpkin pancakes. He turned toward the food tray, opened an eye and sighed. Perhaps he would try the pretend eggs, but only if he got desperate. For now, he was content to sit and wait for Lizbeth to arrive. Eyes closing, he laced his fingers across his sunken stomach and relaxed, his mind going back to Benuel. His soh.

  * * *

  Lizbeth felt her brother’s hand on her back, his quicker steps urging her on down the empty hall. “Ach, there is no rush. We will get there when we get there.”

  “The man has waited six years to hear the truth from your lips. Don’t you think you could speed up your crawl just a bit?”

  She stopped and turned and was almost knocked over by her brother’s bulk. “I know he deserves the truth. That’s why I told him when I thought he was—”

  “Ya. You told him, but not until you thought he was dying.”

  A couple strolled by and gave them a curious glance. Lizbeth allowed Saul to tug her by the arm over to the wall. “This is hard for me, bruder. All of this,” she said, her lips quivering. “You’ve heard the truth. Every miserable mistake I’ve made. Do you think talking about this, especially with Fredrik, will come easy? He doesn’t remember!” Lizbeth pulled away, her temper flaring. Too many sleepless nights of tossing and turning had made her short-tempered. She just wanted to take her boy and go home. Be at peace for a while before she had to explain everything to everyone, especially Fredrik.

  Her brother pulled her into his arms, patted her back as he’d done a million times before. “I’m sorry. I truly am.” With a look of concern, he explained, “I know you dread this moment, but think of what could come from it.”

  “Ya, that’s all I think about, Saul. Fredrik could be so angry he’ll take Benuel away from me. You know how hard it’s been for me. The mistakes I’ve made since I’ve had the boy on my own. I can’t expect Fredrik to say he’s fine with everything and go on his merry way, making up his mind whether or not he wants to be in Benuel’s life.” A tear rolled from her eye. “I wasn’t much of a mother when I came back to Pinecraft, but I’ve learned and grown. I haven’t had the time to learn how to make the best of my boy’s ADHD problems, but I will.”

  “Jonah is to blame for that. Not you. He kept you from the boy, allowed his mother to take over.”

  “Ya, but I should have protested more. Made a stronger effort to—”

  “And been knocked back in your place? Nee, I think you did what all Amish women do. They obey their husbands, kind or cruel. Not so?”

  “Ya, but—”

  “There are no buts,” he said, cutting her off. “You will go into that room with your head held high, tell your story, and Fredrik Lapp better give you the benefit of the doubt. I believe in you because you’re my little schweschder, and I love you.”

  Saul hugged her close, and then pushed her along. “We will both be sobbing in the hall if this conversation continues.” His smile was infectious. “Move, you silly bensel. We have much to do and Benuel is waiting to go home.”

  Placing one foot in front of the other, Lizbeth hurried along beside her brother, her hands hanging by her side. Gott would bring about an outcome and it would be His will for her life. She had to learn to trust and smile again.

  * * *

  Fredrik woke to the sound of his hospital door closing behind someone. He opened his eyes and saw Saul standing with his back to the door. Lizbeth stood in front of Fredrik’s chair.

  Pale and gaunt, she appeared as troubled as he felt and more than a little unsure of herself. He could only imagine what she thought of how he looked, with his bandaged body and blood-splatted hair standing up at all angles around the bandage wrapped round his head.

  It was painful to sit up, but he managed it with as little fanfare as possible. “Hello,” he said in a voice he didn’t recognize. He coughed. His lungs were still healing from the smoke he’d taken in, but he could breathe now without wanting to cry out in pain. That was an improvement.

  “You look better,” Lizbeth said and looked down, their gazes not meeting.

  “Ya, better,” he said, not sure how to start this conversation without her help.

  Saul opened the door and slipped out quietly.

  Fredrik turned back to Lizbeth, saw her eyes opened wide. Was she afraid of him? Did she think him a monster, void of feeling? She’d lied to him, kept secrets best said, but he’d never hurt or abuse her. She was the mother of his soh.

  In that moment he knew she was the woman he loved with all his heart. He’d known his boyhood interest in her was still alive and well, but when had it turned into such a deep devotion? He didn’t know, and he didn’t care. All he knew was he had to listen to her explain and then tell her what was in his heart.

  “Saul said you wanted to see me.” She lowered herself to the straight-back chair next to the bed and sat, her shoulders back, ankles crossed. Both her hands clutched the fabric of her dress.

  “I do.” He paused as he coughed, and then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m sorry. The smoke—”

  She sat forward. “Don’t apologize.”

  “Nee,” he said and prayed for Gott to put the right words into his mouth. “I have been thinking...about what you said. How Benuel is mein soh?”

  “I had to tell you.” She worried the fabric of her collar with her hand and squirmed uncomfortably in the chair. “If you had died, you would never have known. Every father deserves to know he has a child.”

  He caught her gaze, saw the pain she was going through. “I’m glad you told me when you did. It made my will to live stronger.”

  He watched her relax,
saw her hands unclench.

  “I’m glad,” she said.

  “I’m sorry I took advantage of you that day. Sorry you had to deal with the reality of our kinner alone,” Fredrik said.

  She rose and slowly moved toward him, her hand outstretched. “But I was glad to be carrying your child. Didn’t you know that I...I loved you? Since I was a young girl I clung to your every word, sought out ways to be around you.” She knelt by his chair, her hand on his knee.

  Fredrik shook his head, not believing the words she was saying. “Then why did you seem so distant when you came back to Pinecraft? You acted like the sight of me made you nervous.”

  The corner of her mouth angled up into a radiant smile. “You did make me nervous. You reminded me of how foolish I’d been. The mistakes I’d made.” She dropped her gaze. “Every time I saw you with Benuel I thought of what could have been, what should have been.”

  He reached for her hand, rubbed his thumb across her knuckles. “Why didn’t you find me, tell me about Benuel? We could have married. There’d have been no need for you to marry Jonah,” he said and then added, “Unless you loved him.”

  She blanched. “Nee, I didn’t love him. Not for a moment. At first he was kind to me.”

  “Go on,” Fredrik urged, bitterly angry with himself for taking advantage of Lizbeth. She’d been so young when he’d left for training in Ohio. Only nineteen. He’d joined the church there, been baptized, courted Bette. His mind had been on his own life, not the life growing inside her body. Why had he forgotten such an important moment? He must have been very drunk. What a bensel he was. Why had she protected him like that? She should have sent her father to deal with him.

  “I tried to find you on my own, but my father kept asking me who the boppli’s father was. Pressuring me. I didn’t want you in trouble with the bishop, the elders of the church. You were finally getting your life in order, courting a girl.” Her chin touched her chest. “Finally, my father paid Jonah to marry me.” She blinked away the tears. “Daed did what he thought best for me, for the kinner. Jonah accepted the money after the marriage, promised he forgave the past and said he would be a real father to our child. I believed him for a time, but after we arrived in Ohio everything changed.”