A Time for Peace (4 page)

He stared ahead at the road. "I went through all the stages of grief"—he stopped and looked at her. "I know about them because I didn't just talk to the bishop after Amelia died. I talked to a grief counselor and he told me about the seven stages of grief. I went through every one—some of them several times. It took a long time to come to some kind of peace about her death. Years."

Looking at her hand in his big, work-callused one, he searched for the right words—so hard for him and so easy for her since she was a writer. "The biggest thing, the most important thing I learned about watching someone I loved being ill was to take each day and live it because you never knew how many days you had left with the person you loved."

"You're saying worry destroys today, that it takes away from our being able to live and love."

"I admire how you can come up with the right words."

She elbowed him. "You're teasing me."

Picking up the reins, he glanced back and found the road clear. He called to Pilot and guided the buggy back onto the road.

"Let's go see how Phoebe's doing. She could be waiting there to go home with us instead of needing her robe."

"I pray you're right," Jenny said fervently. "I'll worry a lot less when she's back home."

"Well, Matthew said that you were coming home today and I didn't believe him," Jenny told Phoebe as they traveled home a short time later.

"Did you call the hospital, Matthew?" Phoebe asked him.

He shook his head. "I just had a feeling." He glanced at Jenny and grinned.

Jenny sighed. "He's going to be impossible and think he's right about everything from now on."

Laughing, Matthew shook his head. "I know better."

They pulled into the drive and as Matthew was helping Phoebe climb out of the back seat of the buggy, a car pulled into the drive.

"Hannah!" Jenny cried and ran to her as Chris helped her from the vehicle. "You and Phoebe, home at the same time! God is good!"

"It was all a big worry over nothing."

"Hardly nothing," Chris told Jenny as he tucked away his wallet after paying the driver.

"We can talk about that later," Hannah told him, hugging Phoebe and then sliding her arm through the older woman's so they could walk inside together. "Phoebe's home!"

Jenny put coffee on, water for tea, and set out a plate of cookies.

"So what did the doctor say?" she asked as she sat at the table.

Hannah looked at Phoebe. "You go first."

Phoebe shook her head. "I want to know about the baby first. Jenny told me about what happened on the way home. What did the doctor say?"

"Just that this sort of thing happens sometimes."

"Hannah," Chris said in a low voice.

"Okay, he said that the pain can get bad enough that women have passed out. So he said to be careful and stay away from things like glass doors and that sort of thing so I don't get hurt."

"I see." Jenny got up when the tea kettle whistled and poured a mug of hot water. She brought it to the table with a tin of tea bags and set them before Hannah.

"Of course the baby stopped what he'd been doing just as we walked into the doctor's office." She shook her head and rolled her eyes at her husband. "Sorry."

He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "I don't care. We needed to know what was going on. And this way, if it should happen again, you'll know what to do so you don't get hurt."

"Did you find out the sex of the baby?" Phoebe wanted to know. She leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with interest.

"We don't want to know. Remember?"

"I was hoping you'd changed your mind."

Jenny secretly wished so, too. It just seemed to her that now that people could know, they'd want to. It seemed to make life easier. The prospective parents could pick out the right name and paint the room and decorate it for whatever sex the baby was. Friends and family could buy the right presents for baby showers. If there were any siblings, they could be prepared for the new little person who would appear soon.

When Hannah and Chris had first told Jenny and Matthew that they were expecting but that they'd asked the doctor not to tell them the baby's sex, Jenny had thought that it was just a whim. That they'd change their minds.

She must have forgotten how stubborn her husband's sister was, and how much Chris was willing to do to make her happy. He had good reason to want to do it, apart from loving her. After all, how many women stood in front of a man and took a bullet meant for him?

Jenny thought about how amazing it was that two such different people—this woman raised as Amish from birth as Hannah was and Chris, a former
Englischer
raised to join the military as part of his family tradition—meshed so well as a couple. And that they had worked through Hannah's insistence to forgive their assailant and see that he was given a second chance to not go to prison.

Matthew got up to pour more coffee for them and as he passed Jenny, he paused to touch her shoulder. "You okay?"

She nodded. "I'm fine, thanks."

"So now it's your turn," Hannah said. She leaned her elbows on the table and looked at Phoebe.

"Everyone made such a fuss out of me fainting," Phoebe said casually, shrugging her shoulders. She stirred a spoon around and around in her coffee cup.

A whisper of alarm ran up Jenny's spine. She'd never known Phoebe to be evasive, to avoid looking at anyone. When she'd been attending college, earning her journalism degree, she'd attended a lecture for psychology class, one on nonverbal communication. The lecture hadn't just been interesting and helped her earn extra credit for the psychology class—it had proven invaluable when she interviewed people, among other things.

After all, like the professor had said that night, something like eighty percent of the information that people received about a person was nonverbal—it wasn't what they said, but how they behaved. Watch their eyes, their hands, their posture, the professor had said. Watch to see if they look at you directly or if they avoid meeting your eyes. See if they tap their foot from nervousness or do some other movement that seems to show they're tense.

Like stir their coffee over and over. While not meeting your eyes.

Uncomfortable, she looked around at the others at the table.Matthew and Hannah were watching Phoebe and clearly taking her at face value. But Chris was doing the same thing as Phoebe—well, not exactly. He wasn't stirring his coffee, but he wasn't looking at Phoebe or anyone else at the table. His expression was troubled. Why? Jenny wondered.

He knew something, she realized. He
knew
something.

"One of the paramedics went in your medicine cabinet," Jenny said slowly. "He showed us prescriptions you'd been taking."

Phoebe's eyes flew up to meet Jenny's. "Why, that's an invasion of privacy."

Jenny shook her head. "No," she said quietly. "They need to know what medications people are taking so they can tell the doctors at the hospital. They need to know about those medications because they're taken for certain conditions and if the person they've been called to come help is unconscious, well, that gives them more information."

"We don't want to pry,
Grossmudder."
Jenny reached across the table. "But we're worried. Something's wrong, isn't it?"

Phoebe sighed. "Yes. But it's not as bad as it seems."

Her words were chilling. Jenny glanced at Matthew and he'd gone still, his coffee cup halfway to his mouth.
Not as bad as it seems?

The front door slammed open and it sounded like a herd of cattle ran through the living room. Annie burst into the kitchen and skidded to a stop when she saw the adults seated at the table.

"You're back!" she cried, flinging herself into Phoebe's arms. "I'm so, so happy."

Phoebe beamed and hugged her. "Me, too."

Annie turned. "Mary! Joshua! See who's here!"

Phoebe flinched. "Well, I don't think I'll be able to hear for another hour, but who cares."

She held out her other arm and Mary and Joshua rushed into them so that she was holding all three in a big hug.

The sight warmed Jenny's heart. Phoebe looked at her over the tops of the children's heads.
Not now,
she seemed to telegraph.
Not now.

M
amm, can we have a celebration supper?" Annie asked her.

It was a family tradition to have a big supper when there was something to celebrate like a good report card or a birthday. Jenny supposed they could do it when the children's grandmother-of-the-heart had returned home.

"Sure," said Jenny. "We'll fix all her favorites."

Phoebe looked at Annie, then Mary, then Joshua. "I want macaroni and cheese. And green bean casserole. And oatmeal cookies for dessert."

"Those are all our favorites!" Annie cried.

"They are?" Phoebe pretended surprise.

"You make them for us all the time," Mary told her.

"Well, I love them, too."

"Go do your chores and I'll get the macaroni and cheese and green bean casserole started," Jenny told them. "We'll all make the cookies after supper."

She looked at Hannah. "Would you mind if I cooked for all of us here?"

Hannah chuckled. "If I had the energy I'd jump up and kiss you for that."

"Great. Whatever ingredients you don't have I can send one of the children to get from our house." She turned to preheat the oven. "I'll replace what I use tomorrow."

"Don't be silly. We're family. We share."

Jenny nodded and sighed. "Sorry. You're right."

The moment the children were gone, Jenny turned to her grandmother. "Now we can talk."

Phoebe glanced around at them and sighed. "I've been having some trouble with my heart."

Jenny's knees went weak. She sank down into her chair.

"See, I knew you'd get upset," Phoebe said, frowning. "That's why I didn't tell anyone. You've been through enough."

"That doesn't mean that you shouldn't tell me," Jenny told her. "If you'll ill, we need to know."

"I'm not ill!"

Chris patted her hand. "Of course you're not. My grandmother had it and she lived for a long time after her diagnosis."

"What diagnosis, Chris? All she's said is she's having some trouble with her heart. She hasn't even said exactly
what
type of heart problem she's having."

His coloring was fair so even though his face was tanned from working the fields under the sun, there was a telltale reddening.

"You knew," Jenny accused. "You knew and you didn't tell me."

Hannah turned to Chris. "You knew?"

"Don't be angry at him," Phoebe said quickly. "He guessed. He saw my prescriptions and guessed I have congestive heart failure."

"Congestive heart failure," Jenny whispered, shocked.

"It's not as bad as it sounds," Phoebe rushed to say. "I've been doing what the doctor told me to. I'm managing. You can't blame Chris."

"I found out a while ago," Chris said in his defense. "She's been fine so I forgot all about it."

"When?" Hannah wanted to know. "When did you find out?"

Chris hesitated. "That day you thought I was leaving town." Chris turned to Jenny. "So you see, not telling you didn't make any difference. Phoebe has been fine for a long time."

Phoebe nodded. "Exactly."

"Have you forgotten that she was just released from the hospital?" Jenny asked him. She turned to Phoebe. "Maybe it's time for you to move into the
dawdi haus
with us."

"Why?"

"So we can take care of you—"

"I don't need taking care of." Abruptly, Phoebe stood and walked over to put her cup in the sink.

Jenny looked to Matthew for support.

"Phoebe knows she is welcome in our home," Matthew said quietly. "She's been like a
grossmudder
to the
kinner
and me."

"
This
is my home," Phoebe said firmly.

"It is," Chris said. "That was what we agreed on when I moved in here after Hannah and I married and you sold us the farm." He smiled at Phoebe. "But it's more than a business deal. If this had been my house, I'd have wanted you to stay with us, Phoebe. You know I love you like a grandmother, too."

She gave him a fond smile and ruffled his hair. "I know.And I love you like a
grosssohn."

Then she looked at each of them with her back straight and her eyes direct. "But I'm not sick and I'm not old," she insisted. "And I won't have anyone treating me that way unless and until I am."

There was silence. Phoebe had never spoken to them this way.

Then Phoebe glanced at Hannah. "What's wrong?" she asked, moving swiftly to her side.

Hannah looked even paler than she had earlier that day, Jenny saw.

"Doing it again," she gasped, using both hands to knead on her abdomen, as if it were a lump of dough she could reshape. "Kicking—kicking me under the ribs again."

"I'd say maybe it's a 'he' and he's going to be a football player but that game's not played in these parts," Chris told her. "Come on, let's get you to lie down and see if it helps."

He lifted her but she shook her head. "I'm sorry, I know you're strong. But I'm not letting you carry me up the stairs."

Chris staggered and set her back on her feet. "Well, maybe you're right—oof!" he cried and rubbed his stomach where her elbow had connected.

"I saw you grinning!" she retorted, glaring at him over her shoulder as she stomped to the stairs.

"Tread carefully," Matthew warned, trying not to smile. "And I don't mean be careful on the stairs."

"Yeah, yeah," Chris said.

"Chris!" Hannah called, her tone sharp.

His glance slid back to Matthew. "Yes, dear?"

"I thought you were going to come up here!"

"Yes, dear," Chris said and he hurried after her.

Matthew couldn't stop laughing.

"You're watching me."

Jenny glanced at Phoebe as she piled freshly baked oatmeal cookies in the cookie jar. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You keep looking at me like I'm going to collapse at any moment."

"You're imagining it."

Phoebe harrumphed. "I know what I see."

Jenny placed the top on the jar and turned. "Well, then, if I have—and I'm not saying that I have, then all you have to do is stay healthy and I'm sure I'll get tired of that and stop. Right?"

Her grandmother placed her hands on her hips and stared at her. "Sometimes you're just too smart for your own good."

"I never understood that phrase," Jenny said, trying to hold back her smile. "I mean, how can it be bad for a person to be smart? It seems to me that we should want to be as smart as we can be,"

Phoebe gave her a stern look. "You're trying to change the subject. What is it they call it in the
Englisch
world? You're being a smart Alex."

"Smart aleck," Jenny said. "It's 'smart aleck.' " She pressed her fingers to her mouth to still the giggles.

"You know what I mean."

Jenny sighed. "I do. But you're just going to have to put up with me. I'm still a work in progress. I'm still trying not to worry," she explained when she saw Phoebe look cnfused. "But I haven't mastered this not-worrying thing like you have."

She threw her arms around Phoebe. "You scared me so badly," she said. "You scared me."

She felt her grandmother pat her back. "I know. I know. Don't cry. I don't like to see you cry."

"I'm sorry." Jenny stood back and wiped away her tears with her hands.

Phoebe handed her the snowy handkerchief she always kept tucked in her pocket.

"I miss you," Jenny told her. "I miss us living together under the same roof."

"You don't have time to miss me with all that you do."

"I do," Jenny insisted.

"You see me every day. And I intend to be around for a long time."

"We don't get a say in that," Jenny told her, shaking her head and trying to smile. "Not even you get to make bargains with God."

"No," Phoebe agreed and she smiled. "You're right."

She patted Jenny's cheek as she gazed at her with her wise, faded blue eyes. "But I'm doing everything the doctor says and as much as I'd like to see my
mann,
I'd really like to enjoy this beautiful earth for quite a while longer."

She yawned. "Sorry. I'm feeling kind of tired. I think I'll go to bed early." She slanted a look at Jenny. "Tired. Just tired. Okay?"

Jenny nodded. She kissed her grandmother's cheek. "Sleep well. I'll see you tomorrow."

Two days later, Hannah surprised Jenny by visiting after the children left for school.

"I was just coming over," Jenny told her.

"I know. But I thought I'd warn you." Hannah took a seat at the kitchen table.

"I'm worried about Phoebe," she said without preamble. "She looks flushed like she has a fever and she's coughing.And all I could get her to eat this morning was a piece of toast with some hot tea."

Jenny frowned. "Sounds like she's coming down with a cold."

"She said so herself," Hannah told her. "Said all she needed to do was lie down for a little while and she'd be fine."

"I was coming over after I finished my baking." She glanced at the timer on the stove.

Hannah sniffed. "What's that I smell? It's not—"

Laughing, Jenny nodded. "It's cinnamon rolls. I made a second batch after the children left. Figured I'd bring some over to you and Phoebe."

"Did I ever tell you that you're my favorite sister-in-law?" Hannah nodded when Jenny held up the tea kettle. "
Ya,
I'd love a cup of tea."

"I'm your only sister-in-law," Jenny said, pouring them both a cup of hot water and getting out the canister of tea bags— regular for her, decaffeinated ones for Hannah, of course.

"The thing is, we have to be careful with what we say around Phoebe. I think we offended her the other day."

The timer dinged. Jenny drew the pan of rolls from the oven, placed them on top of the stove and checked them, then shut off the oven. When she turned to get a plate, Hannah was right there, holding one out and grinning.

"Can I have that one?" she said, pointing to the biggest roll in the pan.

Jenny peered at it. "Looks like it has your name on it. But I haven't put the frosting on yet."

Hannah gave her the plate and resumed her seat. "Well, hurry. There are two of us waiting, you know."

"I know. That's why you ate at your house and then here, too."

Smiling, she got out a bowl and stirred confectioner's sugar and milk together to form a thick frosting. Slathering it on the rolls, she watched it melt down into the crevices.

Hannah cleared her throat, reminding Jenny of her impatience to eat it. Quickly, she cut out the roll Hannah had pointed to, placed it on a plate, and put it before her.

"You know, one of these days I might make that recipe for cinnamon roll French toast that Fannie Mae gave me."

"Ooh, you're killing me," Hannah said as she picked up the roll. "Imagine how incredible that must taste." She chewed and swallowed, then took a sip of tea.

Jenny wrapped up several of the rolls to take to Phoebe and made a separate package. She handed it to Hannah. "There's one in here for you and one for Chris. I trust that the one for Chris will make it to him?"

Hannah rubbed her abdomen. "Is he carrying this baby? Hmm? Is he?"

Rolling her eyes, Jenny took back the package and added another roll. Really, sometimes adults were worse than kids.

"I'm sure Chris is going to love it," Hannah said with a grin."Ready to go?"