Verity glanced his way, her expression a mixture of stark terror and relief. “She’s in labor. Solomon’s across town at Chicken John’s. No one’s answering their phones.” A quick glance directed at Clara had Verity moving again. “I called the midwife, but she can’t come. She’s busy birthing another boppli, so Clara’s going to have to go to the hospital.”
“Give her to me.” Leviticus’s big hands visibly shook as he reached out for Clara. “Keep trying to reach Solomon. I’ve got my truck outside. I’ll take her to the hospital.”
“But you’re covered in mud.” Verity shielded Clara from him like the pregnant woman had no say in the matter.
He paused and watched Verity vacillate between relief that he’d offered an immediate solution and revulsion at the thought of Clara riding in his bumpy truck all the way to Memorial hospital.
“If you have a better idea, spit it out.”
Clara made a valiant attempt to stifle a groan, but they both heard her cry.
“Look, it’s me and my truck, or you’re delivering this baby. What’s it going to be?”
Verity flinched at his words. “Do you want to go with him?”
Clara nodded. “I’ll go.” And then her face flushed a bright red. “I think my water just broke.”
Three heads looked down at the kitchen floor. A puddle of pink liquid formed around their feet.
“Let’s get going.” Leviticus lifted Clara into his arms. “Tell Solomon to meet us at the hospital.” He hurried for the back door with Clara in tow.
Am I crazy? He’d never delivered a baby before but could if he had to. He’d delivered a breech-birthed goat while in Afghanistan, but he wasn’t thinking about that birth right now. He was thinking about what Solomon would do to him if he let anything happen to his beloved Clara and their first child.
Verity turned on the porch light and held the screen door open wide, but she didn’t speak again until he ran down the wooden steps with Clara bouncing as he took them two at a time. “Be gentle with her, but hurry. I don’t think she has much time to spare.”
He turned his head. Concern strained Verity’s face, but she managed a sweet smile for him. He held her gaze for a heartbeat, longing to reassure her. Tucking Clara into the front seat, he slammed the door and hurried up the steps to Verity. “I promise you, she and the baby will be all right.” He pulled her close, felt her trembling body and put a light kiss on her cheek. “Don’t fret, fraa. Clara will be fine. Trust me.”
Verity held his gaze, her eyes sparkling as he let her go and she moved toward the door. “I do trust you.” Her words came out firm and clear, convincing him she meant it, but then he noticed her right hand. It gripped the screen door so hard all the blood had drained from her fingers. She didn’t trust him. Not with Clara, and certainly never with her heart.
Ignoring his own misery, he called out, “Make that call to Solomon.” His boots crunched on the gravel as he rushed back toward the truck, but he heard his fraa’s encouraging words.
“Go with Gott, Leviticus. Trust in Him. He’ll see you through.”
Chapter Fifteen
Even with his heavy trousers and long-sleeved shirt, the cold hospital air swept around him like an arctic breeze, chilling him to the bone. He knew they kept the temperature down to keep germs at bay, but he was miserably cold, his hands like ice.
The plastic chair he sat in creaked as he shoved his hands under his thighs, seeking a measure of warmth. No doubt Solomon would find a reason to make all this his fault, even though he had no control over Clara’s labor or when it started.
She’d been in a lot of pain when they’d first arrived at the hospital. A nurse had whisked her up to labor and delivery. He’d hurried along behind the stretcher, forgotten by both chattering nurses until they had reached their destination.
One nurse turned toward him, blocking his entrance. Her name tag read Jessica. “You’re the father?”
“No, the brother-in-law.”
“You can’t come in.” A grimace lifted her narrow lips.
“But—”
She pointed to a chair just outside the door. “Sit there. We’ll call for you if you’re needed,” and then firmly shut the door in his face.
Leviticus looked around for a men’s magazine or local newspaper. Nothing, though he had plenty to read if he enjoyed women’s magazines.
Bored, his thoughts wandered to places normally forbidden. He regretted he hadn’t been at Naomi’s birth. His unit had been on a six-month deployment to Afghanistan while Julie was still pregnant. No one had asked him if it was convenient or still fit into his life’s plan. He’d had to go and ended up making do with Julie’s housekeeper Skyping him about his child’s birth. She’d muttered he had a daughter. When he asked questions, he got little more than “She’s doing well.” Her last sentence to him had been, “Do you have a name picked out for your daughter?” He’d replied, “Naomi,” but wasn’t sure she’d even heard him before the connection was severed.
He scrubbed at the itchy growth on his chin, changed position and crossed his legs. There were a lot of things he’d done wrong in his life, but Julie’s pregnancy had been his biggest mess-up yet. He’d enjoyed his army life and all the perks that had come with it, like most young men did when they were irresponsible. Not that he would change anything if he could. Naomi was his blood, his heart.
And look at me now. Married to a woman who doesn’t want to be married to me and forced to watch her make the best of a bad situation. What a fool you are, Leviticus Hilty. Ruining first your life and now Verity’s.
In the past, always pleasant and in control of her emotions, Verity hadn’t tried to hide her contempt for him his first few days home. And he didn’t blame her for objecting to Otto’s marriage plans. No woman, Amish or Englisch, liked the prospect of marrying a man they hadn’t chosen. Certainly not someone like me. Amish women expected their husbands to be in charge. Strong. Men of faith. He had to admit, after their quick wedding, her attitude had softened some for appearance’s sake, but moments alone with her convinced him she resented the marriage.
He huffed, then remembered he had things to be grateful for, too. This evening when he’d checked in on his daed, his father had been pink-skinned and looked stronger. They’d taken him off oxygen, were feeding him more than just Jell-O and watery soup. The nurse explained the doctors expected him to live and make a reasonable recovery, but she had made it clear he would need in-home care when he left the hospital. Verity couldn’t manage Albert on her own with two children to see to. Leviticus would need to find an agency who provided twenty-four-hour care or ask the community for help.
He chewed at his nail, a habit he thought he’d gotten rid of months after leaving Afghanistan, but it periodically resurfaced thanks to his remaining PTSD.
He glanced at the clock on the wall. It showed only a half hour had passed since he’d last looked at it.
He saw movement in his peripheral vision and witnessed Solomon’s arrival and interaction with the desk nurse. Their eyes met. His brother’s weary expression, the way the man’s body was bent over told him Solomon’s day had been a hard one.
“She’s in there.” He pointed to the door across the hall where he’d been keeping sentry.
Solomon nodded. “Danki for bringing her, Leviticus. And for keeping watch.”
Without another word, Solomon rushed into his wife’s room and shut the door behind him.
Clara had her beloved Solomon with her now. He’d best be heading home. He needed to let Verity know everything was under control, and that his father was better. He rose and stretched his aching body. He looked down first one length of the hall and then the other.
Clara’s door opened, and Solomon shuffled out. “They ran me off. Said they’d call me back in when it was time.” He gave a mirthless laugh. “I think they thought I would pass out on them or so
mething.”
Solomon did look decidedly green. Leviticus sat and patted the seat next to him. “I’m not surprised they would think that. You look awful, ready to fall.”
Solomon crossed the hall and took the chair Leviticus offered him, his knees splayed out, elbows braced on the armrests. “I am tired. There’s so much to be done on the grove, but Chicken John’s place is devastated. Ulla went to stay with Mose and Sarah.” He rubbed his eyes, lifted his head. “The whole community felt the punch of the storm.”
“Otto said people will be coming down from the North to help.”
“Ya, there’ll be a busload tonight and more able-bodied men on their way tomorrow.” He finally looked Leviticus in the eye. “We need all the help we can get on the grove.” He raked his hand, covered in mud, through his mussed brown hair. “He really wants you to stay, Leviticus.”
“I know. I’m a married man now, with responsibilities. I need the grove to support my family as much as you do.” He placed his hand on his brother’s thigh. “You have to know...things are different now. I want to succeed and come to trust Gott, be a bruder you can be proud of.”
Solomon shook his head, confusion lowering his brows. “I’ve never understood why you left. Why abandon Daed and the grove when they needed you most? Mamm’s death almost finished Daed off ten years ago. He really struggled with both those losses. Time and age have worn him down. His first stroke took a lot out of him. I thought this second big one would kill him.” Solomon’s piercing gaze seemed to look deep inside Leviticus’s soul, searching out the truth.
Talking about his mother’s death, about the stress he’d put on her, was a subject Leviticus always avoided. But giving Solomon an explanation for his leaving was long overdue. “When Mamm died, I guess a piece of me died with her.” Leviticus shifted uncomfortably in the plastic chair.
Only his father knew what was in his heart, why he’d left, and even then, not all the truth had come out as they’d talked. “I watched Mom kill herself with hard work. She took care of everyone but herself.” He rubbed his hand across the stubble growing on his chin. “Daed let her die from hard work, and I helped kill her by acting like a fool and shaming her.” He blinked back a tear. “I should have stopped my running around. Daed should have made her slow down.”
Solomon sat up straight in his chair, his expression bemused, eyebrows knitting together. “Your childish shenanigans and hard work didn’t kill her, bruder. Cancer did.”
It was the first time Leviticus had heard the word cancer associated with his mother. Even his dat had kept silent. She’d had cancer? “What do you mean she had cancer? Someone would have told me.”
“Nee, bruder. I only know because I overheard Mamm and Daed talking about the doctors’ diagnosis when they thought we were out doing chores. Years later, I admitted to Daed I knew about the cancer. It pained him that I knew. He explained the illness wasn’t allowed to be talked about to anyone. It was Mamm who insisted it remain a secret, and Daed complied.” Solomon wiped a tear from his cheek. “Her kind of cancer was terrible, cruel and aggressive. She’d ignored the signs, left it too long.”
Fury rose up. Leviticus wrung his hands, flexing his fingers that felt stiff with rage. “I should have been told. You were my bruder. You could have told me sooner.”
“I was afraid of how you’d react. You were just a bu, her youngest. I wasn’t much older. She tried to spare us. Don’t go looking for someone to blame.”
Leviticus ducked his head. His mother had tried to shield him every day of his life. Was that why it had taken a war, the horror of battle to screw his head on right, to bring him to a full understanding of what was important and what could be easily set aside?
Leviticus looked hard at Solomon, needing to be angry with someone. “You should have told me when I came home.”
“Maybe. But I did as she asked. Not even the community knew. When she passed suddenly, people thought it was from a heart attack or stroke. No one asked. Her secret was kept to the end.”
Leviticus shook his head, tears running down his face. His brother’s embrace came out of nowhere. Leviticus held on for dear life and cried like a child as they rocked together, all the bitterness and strife between them ebbing away.
A woman in scrubs stood just outside Clara’s room. “Mr. Hilty! Your wife is calling for you. She’s ready to push.” She disappeared again, leaving the door slightly ajar.
Leviticus pulled away, sniffed. “Sounds like that baby’s wanting to meet his daed.”
Solomon scrubbed the last tears from his eyes. “I best be getting back.” He rose, hesitated and then turned back to Leviticus. “You’ll be going home to Verity? She must be a basket of nerves by now. She could use a strong shoulder to lean on.”
“Ya, I’m going home.”
Solomon disappeared behind the shut door, but not before he shot a big grin Leviticus’s way.
Cancer? Leviticus sat for a moment, thinking about what he’d just learned about their mother’s passing, about the man he needed to become now that he knew the truth. He could change. Lord, for Verity’s sake, help me be the best husband I can be. Even as he thought the words, he wondered, would Verity ever forgive him for leaving her? Could he be Amish Plain for the rest of his life, or would he keep running from life’s hard trials? He shrugged. Now things were different. He wanted to change. To be Amish in mind and deed, but only time would tell if that was possible.
* * *
Verity vigorously washed her two daughters’ late-night milk glass and sippy cup and placed both upside down on the drain-cloth next to the sink. The stray cat she’d brought into the house knocked one of Faith’s books off the children’s tiny table and chair set, making her jump.
Why was Clara’s labor taking so long? Word should have come by now. The woman was young, healthy. Complications in childbirth were rare these days, especially when a doctor was in attendance, but they did happen. Nothing’s impossible.
Verity dried her hands, chastising herself. That’s foolish talk. Clara’s fine. The boppli’s fine. You’re just a worrier.
The roar of Leviticus’s old truck coming to a stop in the side yard had Verity abandoning the cup of coffee she’d picked up. She rushed to the back door and flipped on the outside light. A yellow glow lit the darkness. He’s taking a long time coming in.
As though she had wings on her feet, she rushed out onto the back porch and watched as he turned the corner of the house and strolled toward her. Does he have to walk so slow? His head down, she couldn’t search his face for a hint of news. Illuminated by the porch light now, his mud-splattered clothes reminded her that he’d had a hard day. A long night. Had he eaten supper? He must be bone tired.
Instead of bounding up the steps, he took them one by one. Her heart beat faster. Pumped hard. Adrenaline coursed through her body. But then she saw his wide smile, the look of joy in his eyes. Hallelujah! All is well. The boppli is here.
He reached the top step and she grabbed for his hand, yanking him up onto the porch with her excitement. “Well. Don’t just stand there with a silly grin. Tell me. Is it a bu or girl? What does it weigh? Does it favor Clara or Solomon?”
He laughed at her, the sound of his joy deep and robust.
A thrill rushed through her. She remembered that laugh from years ago. Best not think of those times. “Talk to me, before I wring the facts from your scrawny neck.”
He laughed, but remained quiet until he stepped into the kitchen, leaving the door open for Verity to pass through. “I hung around for a while in case Solomon needed me, and then a nurse finally told me Clara was fine and that I had a niece. I have no idea who she looks like or how much she weighs. I didn’t stick around once I caught a peek of the baby being pushed to the nursery in a plastic cart. You’ll have to wait till tomorrow and see for yourself.”
“A girl!” Verity’s face lifted toward the heavens
. “Thank You, Jesus, for the answered prayer.” She couldn’t hold back the wave of laughter that swept over her. In her joy, Verity forgot to be reserved. She squeezed Leviticus’s hand hard. His eyes enlarged with what had to be surprise. Tonight, she was deliriously happy, brave enough to touch him again. She longed to be held in his arms, so they could rejoice together as a husband and wife would.
“Did she say what they were calling the boppli? Did she have an easy time of it?” She didn’t wait for him to answer her questions. “A girl! Oh, I’m so glad,” she repeated, joyously laughing at her own foolish behavior. Renewed hope coursed through her for the first time in weeks. “Clara wanted a girl so much. She can show her off at the Thanksgiving dinner.”
Verity remembered she was holding Leviticus’s hand and dropped it. She stepped back, letting him slip past. “Come, sit. Have coffee with me while you tell me everything you know.”
Pulling out a chair, he obediently accepted her offer of a hot drink. “There’s not much to tell. I sat in a hard chair for hours. It was cold enough in that hospital to hang meat. No one spoke—”
Verity whirled around from the kitchen counter, the spoon of sugar she’d been about to add to his coffee mug suspended in midair. “Just tell me what you know. What you saw. I want to hear everything...about Clara, the boppli.” She would never understand men if she lived to be a hundred. Why were they so closemouthed?
Leviticus scooted over to a plate of freshly baked chocolate-chip cookies and shoved one in his mouth. Another quickly followed.
He hasn’t eaten. I should have offered to heat him a plate of food. Guilt plagued her, but first she wanted information. She’d feed the silent man once he’d told her everything.
Eating a third cookie, he spoke around it. “No one told me if there was a problem.” He shoved another cookie in his mouth.
Verity moved to the refrigerator and pulled out cold chops and sweet potato casserole. Leviticus hated marshmallows. She grinned at the thought of him having to eat around them. “Now, tell me about the kind. Is she dirty-blond like Solomon or brown-haired like Clara? Is she plump or all legs and arms?” She put a fat chop on his plate and scooped out a heaping serving of sweet potato casserole.
Their Convenient Amish Marriage Page 14