Farmer's Daughter Romance Collection : Five Historical Romances Homegrown in the American Heartland (9781630586164)

by Peterson, Tracie; Davis, Mary; Hake, Kelly Eileen; Stengl, Jill; Warren, Susan May

  “Just show me what to do.”

  Anna Beth’s weak voice barely whimpered a protest, as the contractions ripped through her abdomen. Amy could tell by the flow of blood that the birth of Anna Beth’s child would also be the death of her.

  “Anna Beth,” Amy called to the barely conscious woman. Amy shook her head, for in truth Anna Beth was barely a woman. Anna Beth Riggs was only sixteen, but on the frontier, adulthood came early and birthing was the ultimate arrival of womanhood.

  Amy wiped the woman’s head with a cool cloth. She knew she could do very little for her. Amy’s only real hope was to save the baby and pray that God would help the mother. But in order to accomplish even the delivery, Amy was going to have to pull the child from the birthing canal.

  “Anna Beth, your baby is having a hard time being born. I need to help him,” Amy said softly. She glanced up to meet Tyler’s intense stare. He seemed concerned for Amy’s well-being, as well as for the dying woman. Amy shook her head at him, for her own feelings could not possibly matter at a time like this.

  “Amy, save my baby, please! Do whatever you must,” Anna Beth whispered and then turned to Tyler. “Pastor, will you pray for us?”

  “Of course, Anna Beth.” Tyler took hold of the woman’s hand. “Father, we lift up Your daughter, Anna Beth. She’s fought a hard fight, Lord, and we ask that You ease her burden and give her rest. We ask for the safe delivery of her child and Your healing touch upon both. Steady Amy’s hands to do what she must, that we might all bring You glory. In Jesus’s name, amen.”

  Amy felt warmed by the prayer. She placed a hand on the struggling woman and patted her reassuringly. “Anna Beth, you just rest a minute. I need to talk to Tyler and tell him what I need him to do. I’ll just be right at the end of the bed, so you won’t be alone.” The woman nodded, and Amy motioned Tyler to the foot of the bed.

  “This won’t be easy, Tyler. I’ll need you to hold her down and still. I’ll have to reach up inside and pull the baby down. It’s not a pretty sight and it won’t be pleasant work. Can you help me? I know Carl won’t be able to stand it.”

  Tyler took hold of Amy’s upper arms and held her firmly for a moment. “I’ll stay by your side no matter the cost. You can count on me to be there for you.” Tyler’s words somehow seemed a promise of something more.

  Amy nodded. “We must work fast or we’ll lose the baby, too. It may already be too late.”

  Tyler and Amy took their places at the bedside, and Amy explained to Anna Beth that she had to hold as still as possible. “Tyler is going to help you, Anna Beth. It won’t be very easy for you and it’s going to hurt.” Anna Beth nodded and accepted Tyler’s hands upon her shoulders.

  Amy rolled up a washing cloth and gave it to Anna Beth. “Bite down on this.” Obediently, the woman heeded her instructions.

  At Tyler’s nod, Amy went to work. For the first time since their arrival, Anna Beth screamed, and then she lost consciousness. Amy worked unsuccessfully to rotate the breech-positioned baby and finally managed to pull the child out, bottom first.

  The baby boy was stillborn.

  Amy glanced down at Anna Beth, who was just starting to stir. The blood was flowing even harder now, and Amy knew no amount of packing would ever keep Anna Beth alive.

  Anna Beth’s eyes fluttered open. She looked first to Tyler, then at Amy. Amy pulled out a soft flannel blanket that Anna Beth had made for her baby and wrapped the child lovingly in its folds. She talked gently to the baby, as if it were alive.

  Tyler stood by in utter amazement, not certain what Amy was doing. He watched in silence as Amy washed the tiny, red face of the infant and smoothed back the downy black hair on his head.

  “Anna Beth,” Amy said as she brought the infant to his mother. “Your son is a might worried.”

  Anna Beth perked up at the words that she had a son. “What is it, Amy? Can I hold him?”

  “Of course you can.” Amy placed the small bundle in Anna Beth’s arms. “Does he have a name?”

  “Carl Jr.,” Anna Beth whispered, trying feebly to stroke the baby softness of her son’s cheek.

  “Anna Beth,” Amy whispered as she stroked the woman’s hair, “Carl Jr. is afraid to be without you. He wants to know if it would be all right to go on to heaven and wait for you there.”

  Tears fell down Anna Beth’s cheeks, but Amy’s remained dry. Her eyes revealed her pain, however, and Tyler longed to take her away from the death scene in the Riggs’ bedroom.

  “That would be fine, little boy,” Anna Beth murmured to the baby. She cupped his cheek with her hand. “Mama will be right there. You go on ahead. Mama’s coming soon.” She glanced up and smiled at Amy. Her eyes were filled with a sad knowledge, but also with peace. “Thank you, Amy.” She pulled her son close and closed her eyes. She sighed, glad that the pain was over. And then Anna Beth joined her son in heaven.

  For several moments, no one said a word. Amy continued to smooth Anna Beth’s hair, unmindful of her action. Tyler reached out and took Amy’s hand from across the bed.

  “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me,” he recited.

  Amy looked up into Tyler’s eyes, grateful for his comforting presence. This was only her second time to deal with death in childbirth, and it wasn’t any easier than the last time.

  “Thank you, Tyler,” she said. Letting go of his hand, she squared her shoulders. “I’ll get the bodies ready for burial. Will you tell Carl?”

  “Of course.”

  Nearly two hours later, Amy and Tyler left the stunned Carl and rode back to the Carmichael farm. They’d both tried to convince Carl to come back with them, but he wanted to be near his family. He’d requested that Tyler perform the funeral the next day and Tyler readily agreed.

  At nearly two o’clock in the morning, they made their way across the open prairie. Amy was quieter than ever, and Tyler knew her mind was on Anna Beth and the baby.

  “Childbirth is a risky thing,” he said. “I sometimes wonder how a woman can bear a normal delivery, much less as much pain as that woman had to endure tonight.”

  “It’s the joy of the child to come,” Amy said absently. She smiled sadly. “I know I’m not a mother, but I’ve heard enough to tell their story. I think maybe it’s the things that cost the most pain that are the things most worth having, the things that bring us the most joy.”

  “You believe that to be true about children?” Tyler’s question seemed louder than he’d intended, somehow amplified by the vast expanse of the open plains.

  “I suppose I do,” Amy murmured.

  “You only suppose? Don’t you plan to have children, Amy?” After what they had witnessed tonight, he wouldn’t blame her if she said no.

  “Beyond today,” Amy said, “I don’t have any plans.” She tried to laugh, making light of her life-long doctrine.

  “Maybe that’s because you’ve never had the right person to plan with.”

  “Maybe,” Amy admitted. “But I feel God wants me to just take a day at a time. I think it keeps me better focused than looking at the big picture.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Amy pulled her coat collar around her throat. The night had turned cold and a shadowy ring had formed around the moon. The air tasted like snow.

  She could tell that Tyler’s eyes were still on her. He was waiting for an answer to his question, and throwing caution to the wind, Amy decided to be honest with him. “Angie always has plans a plenty. She revels in them like some people glory in a large account of money. Angie knows what she wants in life, or at least she thinks she does. She wants to live in the city and have the world eat out of her hand. And believe me, Tyler” —Amy paused to look at Tyler’s silhouetted profile—“she’s used to getting what she wants.”

  “But what about you?” Tyler asked, frustrated by this talk of Angie when Amy’s feelings were what concerned him. “What do you want?”

  Amy smiled
. “I want whatever God wants for me. I’m not always very patient, but I know His promises are rich. I don’t want to miss out on a single one of His gifts.”

  Tyler’s mouth curved. “That’s a bit evasive, don’t you think?”

  “Perhaps.”

  The lights from the front room of the Carmichael farm were now in view. Just a few more minutes and they would be home. Amy felt the weariness deep in her bones. She felt as if she could sleep forever.

  Silently, she braved a glance at the man who rode by her side. She was surprised to find him watching her with an unreadable expression on his face. Amy offered a weak smile.

  “I’m glad you were with me tonight,” she whispered and turned toward the barn.

  Tyler sat back thoughtfully in the saddle. She was quite a woman, this Amy Carmichael, he thought to himself. In his heart, he knew she was much more to him than just another member of his flock.

  Chapter 7

  Charles Carmichael took one look at their faces and then shook his head sadly. He took his daughter’s hand in his. “You gave it your best and God was with you, child. You mustn’t blame yourself.”

  Amy leaned against her father and sighed. “I know, Pa. We tried to talk Carl into coming home with us, but he didn’t want to leave them.”

  Charles nodded. “I don’t think I would’ve left your ma either. He’ll have to work through this in his own way. No one can grieve for you, Amy. No matter how many others shed their tears, the pain is still your own. We’ll keep him in our prayers, and I’ll ride over tomorrow and see how I can help.”

  “Thanks, Pa.” Amy was too close to tears to say anything more.

  With the horses cared for, Charles led them back to the house. “I’ll show you where we put your things, Tyler.” Tyler nodded and gave Amy a quick glance before following her father up the stairs.

  “Don’t forget to turn down the lamp, Amy,” Charles called over his shoulder.

  “I won’t. Good night, Pa.” Almost as an afterthought, she added, “Good night, Tyler.”

  In the empty downstairs, the silence fell around her like a cloak. Amy felt drained and cold in the aftermath of what had taken place. She went to the front room and stoked up the fire before easing her weight onto the sofa. Staring into the flames, she felt her composure crumble.

  Tears fell down her cheeks, until she was sobbing quietly into her hands. Why did bad things happen to people who loved God? It seemed so harsh. So unfair. Why, if a person put their trust in the Lord, didn’t He relieve their suffering and keep them from the horrors of the world?

  Without warning, Amy felt herself being swept to her feet. Tyler’s warm fingers took her hands from her face. Staring up at him with red eyes, Amy’s tears began anew.

  “Hush, it will be all right.” He pulled her into his arms. Amy laid her face against his broad chest and sobbed.

  Her tears raged for several minutes, while Tyler waited patiently for her to regain control. He stroked her hair and whispered over and over in her ear that it would be all right. The words, though plain and simple, were a comfort, not only for what they said, but because of who said them.

  “I’m sorry,” Amy murmured, finally feeling able to speak. Tyler’s arms were still around her, and she wasn’t ready yet to pull away from the safety she felt there.

  “Don’t be.” Tyler pulled her with him to sit on the sofa. “You can’t bear the pain for all the world.”

  “I try so hard to be strong. I want so much to be of some use to God,” Amy whispered. “I guess sometimes I’m just not cut out for His work.”

  “Nonsense.” Tyler’s firmness surprised Amy. “God knows what each man and woman can bear. He knows how your heart breaks for those who suffer—but He knows, too, how He can use that pain in you to do the work of His kingdom. If your heart wasn’t so tender, the Lord wouldn’t be able to use you so much.”

  “It just seems so unfair.” Amy allowed Tyler to pull her head against his shoulder. “There’s a part of me that wants to cry out and ask why this thing has happened. There’s even a part of me, I’m ashamed to say, that questions how God can allow folks to suffer so.”

  Tyler smiled, though Amy never saw it. Hadn’t he himself had those questions, those doubts? “That’s pretty normal, Amy. Everybody wonders at something, sometime.”

  “I don’t know, Tyler.” Amy pushed away to look him in the eye. “I feel so helpless. Life out here is so hard. Sometimes I wonder if Angie doesn’t have the better idea—escape to the city and live a more protected life.” Before Tyler could say a word, she continued, “But then, I see a sunrise across the open prairie or hear the coyotes when the moon is high, and I know I could never leave it. For all its unmerciful hardships, I’m at home here and here I’ll stay.”

  The words brought a flood of emotion to Tyler’s heart. For a moment he’d feared she’d tell him she planned to move away with the first man who offered her an easier life in the big city. Hadn’t he just listened to that very plan from her sister’s lips earlier in the day? Now, he felt relieved by Amy’s declaration. He was more certain than ever that Amy Carmichael was the woman God intended him to marry.

  Amy started to wipe her face on her apron but then noticed the blood stains. “Christ spilled His blood for us,” she whispered. “Although He was a man, I think He must have understood the pain a woman feels in childbirth. He knew what it was like to bleed, to feel pain, to die while giving life to another. So why do I feel so discouraged and sad? That should be enough.”

  “It is enough,” Tyler agreed. “Enough for our salvation and reconciliation with God. But although our eternal life is safe and assured, that’s no guarantee we won’t run into pain and hardship in our everyday, physical life. Like everyone, we must endure hardships and trials, just as Jesus said we would. Remember?”

  Amy frowned for a moment, trying to remember what scripture Tyler might be quoting. She shook her head when nothing came to mind and waited for Tyler to enlighten her.

  “Jesus was preparing for His death when He told His disciples in John 16:33, ‘In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world.’ He made it real clear that we will have trouble in this life of ours. But the good news is that He’s already overcome anything the world can throw at us.”

  “That’s all fine and well.” Amy’s lips pressed tight together. She sighed and then burst out, “Of course He overcame the world. He was God. He had the power and the ability to overcome anything He chose. I know it sounds selfish, but how does that help me? I still have to go through the trials and heartaches. How do I comfort myself or find ease from the pain when its Jesus that has overcome, not me?”

  Tyler read the agony in her eyes. He touched her face gently. “Because He overcame, we have the power to do the same. When we accepted Him as Savior, He came into our hearts. He became one with us, and now we share in His life. We share His suffering—but we also share His triumph. That’s why He told us to be of good cheer. We’re a part of Him now, and that means we’ve already overcome. We just don’t realize it sometimes.”

  Amy stared thoughtfully into the fire for a moment before nodding her head. “Of course,” she whispered. “That makes so much sense. How could I have thought He was being a braggart, when He was simply trying to bolster the disciples’ courage?”

  Tyler nodded. “That’s right, Amy. He knew we wouldn’t be able to bear the load alone. When He died on the cross, He bore the pain of the entire world. He knew all about Anna Beth and her little boy. And He knew how you would hurt tonight. He’s already taken that load onto Himself. All you have to do now is let Him have it. You have to let go of the pain you’re feeling.” Tyler smiled. “It’s a funny thing, but sometimes it’s almost harder to trust God with the hard things in our life than it is to trust Him with the happier things. Believe me, I know.”

  Amy smiled and sat back against the sofa. “You make it so easy to understand. I think that’s why I’ve missed having church an
d a regular minister so much. I read the Word every day, but so often its meaning eludes me. Thank you for being patient with me, Tyler.”

  “I think, Amy, that when it comes to you”—Tyler reached for her hand—“that I have an infinite amount of patience.” He looked into her face. “Maybe we could pray about this together.”

  “Yes, please.” Sudden joy leapt up from the depths of Amy’s pain. How often she had dreamed of a man with whom she could pray about the sorrows and troubles of the day. A man who truly sought God’s heart for the hidden answers and meanings to life’s questions.

  They prayed together silently, and then each shared their petitions aloud. Amy felt as though a revival of sorts was taking place just for them. For hours, in spite of the fact that dawn was fast approaching, they sat and prayed, talking about the mercies of God and their hope for the future.

  Finally, Amy couldn’t stifle a yawn, and Tyler pulled her to her feet. “Come on, sleepy head. You’ve had a busy night and you’d best get some sleep. From the sounds of the wind outside, I wouldn’t be surprised to find a foot of snow on the ground by morning.”

  Amy had to laugh as she cast a suspicious glance at the mantel clock. “It’s going to have to snow mighty hard and fast in order to meet that demand. After all, it’s nearly morning now.”

  Tyler chuckled and pulled her along with him toward the stairs. “It could snow three feet by daylight, I wouldn’t care one bit. I think I might rather enjoy being snowed in with you, Amy Carmichael.”

  Tyler’s words very nearly came true. First light greeted the Carmichael farm with a raging blizzard that dumped snow on top of snow, burying everything in a blanket of white.

  Dora was up and feeling better when Charles returned from the barn and morning chores. “My,” she exclaimed, brushing snow off his shoulders, “but you look frozen clear through!”

  “It’s a bad one out there.” Charles shook the worst of the snow from his coat before hanging it up on the peg by the back door.