Johanna turned to stare at Aunt Jezzy. “Are you... You aren’t...”
Aunt Jezzy didn’t answer. She just sat primly on her seat, the faintest smile on her lips, one toe tapping the floor, and turned her hymnbook in a circle, very slowly, precisely three times.
* * *
“Can I drive you home?” Roland stood by the back porch, waiting as Johanna came down the steps with a market basket full of empty dishes in one hand. It was late afternoon, the Sunday communal meal had been served, the last prayers had been said and the women had cleaned up. Most of the families had already left to do their evening chores.
“The children and I came with
Mam
and Susanna and Rebecca, in our buggy,” Johanna answered.
“I know, but J.J. and I want to take you home. He gets bored riding only with his
dat,
don’t you, son?” He jiggled the brim of J.J.’s hat.
“Can we,
Mam?
” Katy asked, tugging on her skirt. “Can we ride with Roland and J.J.? Please, can we?”
Jonah had already gone ahead with Charley and Miriam. Charley had promised Jonah that he’d let him help feed the horses.
Roland looked at her expectantly, and she nodded. What did it matter if people saw them leaving together? Dorcas,
Grossmama
and two other women had already asked her after services if she and Roland were courting. It was being talked about all over the community. Grace called it the Amish Skype. How had Grace put it?
For people who don’t have phones or internet service, you can pass news faster than NBC.
Johanna wasn’t certain what Skype was or how it worked, but she wasn’t about to admit that to Grace.
“J.J. and Katy can act as chaperones,” Roland teased as Johanna climbed up into his buggy. Secretly, she was pleased that Roland had asked her to ride with him. You couldn’t get much more respectable than riding home from services with a beau.
“Did you know about your aunt and Nip?” Roland flicked the leathers over his gelding’s back. “Walk on,” he ordered, and the standardbred started out at a brisk walk and then flowed smoothly into a steady pace.
“
Ne.
It was a total surprise to me. None of us expected her to ever marry.”
“She’ll make him a good wife. I imagine he’s lonely. It’s hard for a married man to suddenly be alone. A house feels empty without a woman’s footsteps.”
Behind them the two children giggled and wiggled, standing up to peer out at other buggies through the small window at the back of the vehicle.
“I’m sorry to hear about your brother-in-law,” Roland continued. “Daniel.”
The Saturday mail delivery had brought
Mam
a letter from Leah telling that her husband had suffered a relapse of the fever that had plagued him on and off during the rainy season. They had traveled to the city nearest to their mission, where Daniel had received first-rate care. He was expected to make a full recovery, but Leah had asked for prayers from her family. Samuel had taken the request further, and had asked the bishop to lead the congregation in prayer for Daniel’s health.
“I worry about Leah, so far away with a baby. It could easily have been one of them who fell ill. Who knows what kinds of fever they have in the jungle? It was kind of Bishop Atlee to ask for everyone to remember Daniel in their devotions. Some bishops wouldn’t be so understanding...since Leah left our faith to become Mennonite.”
“Bishop Atlee is a kind man, one who truly walks in God’s ways, as much as he can.” Her hand rested on the bench seat, and Roland laid his lightly on top of it. “You must miss her a lot. I can’t imagine being that far from Charley or Mary.”
“I do miss her,” Johanna agreed.
The buggy wheels and the horse’s hooves made a comforting sound as they struck the road.
Sounds of home,
Johanna thought. And she wondered what strange sounds Leah heard in the Brazilian jungle.
“J.J. and I appreciated the soup and the raisin bread,” Roland said. “Especially the raisin bread. We finished it up for breakfast this morning, all but three slices.”
Johanna’s eyes widened. “An entire loaf?”
“We were hungry, weren’t we, son?”
“Ya, Dat,”
J.J. agreed. “We were hungry.”
“When have you ever
not
been hungry?” Johanna teased. Tenseness drained out of her body, and she found that she was enjoying herself. When Roland wasn’t pressing her to give him a decision, she loved being with him. It was almost like old times...maybe even better.
The journey home from Lydia and Norman’s didn’t take long, but when they came up the Yoder driveway and drove around to the farmyard, the first thing she saw was Charley’s open buggy and Miriam’s brown-and-white pony, Taffy, hitched to the rail.
“Why are Charley and Miriam here?” Johanna asked. “They didn’t leave long before we did.” The thought that something might have happened to Jonah occurred to her, and her stomach sank. “I hope—”
“Johanna!” Eli stepped out of the kitchen door. “Ruth’s time. It’s come.”
Johanna was already scrambling down from the buggy. “Get Katy,” she called over her shoulder to Roland. “Have you sent someone to call for the midwife?” Johanna asked her brother-in-law. “Where’s Ruth? Is she—”
“In the house here,” Eli answered. “My wife got it in her head that she wanted the babies to be born here, in the same room where she was born. Miriam’s with her.”
“Jonah?”
“In the barn. I thought it best to keep him out of the house, so I told him to feed the cows.”
Johanna turned to Roland. “Thank you for bringing me home. I have to go to help Ruth.” And then to Eli, “The midwife? Has someone sent for her?” Ruth had engaged the services of a midwife affiliated with an obstetrical practice in Dover. They’d planned a home birth from the beginning, but this was the first that Johanna had known that Ruth wanted to have the babies here at their childhood home.
“Charley,” Eli answered, sounding a little lost. “Charley went to use the phone at the chair shop.”
“How about if I take Jonah home with me?” Roland offered. “Eli’s right. A birthing’s no place for a young boy.”
“Or a little girl.” Johanna thought for a moment. “If you don’t mind, take Katy to Fannie and Roman’s.”
Katy popped her head out of the buggy.
“Would you like that?” Johanna asked. “Would you like to go and play with Fannie’s girls?”
“Ya,”
Katy agreed. Fannie’s youngest two were seven and nine, and Katy adored them.
“Don’t worry about your children,” Roland said. “I’ll see to them.”
Johanna nodded and hurried toward the house. Ruth had said she was tired that morning and that her back ached.
Mam
had rightfully advised her to stay home from services. “How is she?” Johanna asked Eli. “Is she certain it’s her time?”
“She’s certain,” Eli said. “Her pains are coming regularly and her water broke about an hour ago.”
“It sounds as though you’re about to become a father,” Johanna said, trying to sound cheerful. “I’d appreciate it if you’d see to our animals—the chickens, horses, cows—”
Eli nodded. “Glad to do it. Glad to have something useful to do.”
Johanna smiled at him. “It will be all right, Eli. Women have been having babies since the beginning of time. Ruth is a strong woman, and she’s in good health. Pray for her, and don’t worry.”
“I’ll pray,” Eli promised, “but don’t expect me not to worry. That’s my Ruth in there.”
Chapter Fourteen
L
eaving Roland to care for her children, Johanna entered the kitchen and found both Miriam and Ruth standing by the sink. Ruth was filling a teakettle. “Are you in labor?” Johanna asked. She took one look at Ruth’s strained face and knew that the question was unnecessary. “How often are your contractions?”
“About ten minutes apart.” Ruth set the kettle on the counter, leaned against the cabinets and closed her eyes. “They’re strong,” she admitted softly, “but nothing I can’t deal with. I wouldn’t have said anything yet if my water hadn’t broken.” She raised an eyebrow. “Eli’s making a fuss for nothing. I’m not going to have these babies for hours.”
“I tried to get her into bed.” Miriam had her hands on her hips, an expression on her face that was exactly like
Mam’s
when she was cross. “But Ruth wanted peppermint tea and insists on making it herself.”
“I can’t just sit around and wait. I’ve been waiting for months.” Ruth exhaled slowly and her features relaxed. “There, better now. I’m not sick. I’m just having a baby...babies.
Mam
had seven of us, all born here at home.” Her gaze locked with Johanna’s, and Johanna saw a flicker of uncertainty. “I didn’t want to go to the hospital—to have my babies come into the world in a strange room full of noise and Englishers. Do you think that’s silly of me?”
Unconsciously, Ruth crumpled the corner of her apron between her fingers, a habit of hers when she was uncertain. As a young girl, Ruth had chewed the ends of her apron strings ragged, but thankfully, she seemed to have outgrown that.
Mam
had worried that she never would.
Ruth wasn’t quite as brave as she lets on, Johanna decided, wondering if Ruth was concerned due to her own difficulty with Jonah’s birth. Her son had come too early, and she’d nearly lost him.
“Ne,”
she said soothingly. “I think it makes sense, Ruth. Everything has gone well with you. And your midwife wouldn’t have approved a home birth if she wasn’t certain everything would go well.” Ruth was always uneasy outside of her Amish community, and there was no reason for her to be in the hospital as long as the delivery went smoothly.
“Everyone says that twins come early, but these two are a week overdue. Linda said that if they weren’t born soon, she would admit me and have Dr. Sharez induce labor.” Ruth made a face. “I didn’t want that. It seems unnatural. I always thought they would come in God’s time.”
“And so they have.” Johanna removed her black bonnet and offered Ruth a comforting smile. “Well, I think tea is a good idea. We’d better make a big pot.
Mam,
Susanna and Rebecca will be home soon.” She crossed the worn kitchen floor and touched Ruth’s cheek. “You can do this, little sister. Look at our Leah. She gave birth to her baby in the jungle, with only Daniel to help her.”
“And put it in a hammock,” Miriam noted. “Everyone in the house sleeps in a hammock. We did, too, when we were there visiting. You should have seen Charley trying to get the hang of it.” She chuckled, and then went on. “Leah said she was afraid to put the baby in a cradle because there are giant ants.” She grimaced. “At least Ruth doesn’t have to worry about ants.”
Ruth put the teakettle on the gas stove and lit the burner. “We sent Charley to call the midwife and I asked him to fetch Anna.”
“That’s another good reason for coming home to
Mam’s
to deliver your precious babies,” Johanna said. “
Mam’s
house is a lot bigger than yours, and, counting her, the four of us and—”
“Five, counting Grace,” Miriam corrected. “Don’t forget Grace. She’ll be home eventually.”
“Five of us, plus Aunt Jezzy. And speaking of Aunt Jezzy...” In the excitement about Ruth’s coming childbirth, Johanna had almost forgotten about Aunt Jezzy’s surprise announcement. “You are never going to believe it, but Samuel called the banns for her and Nip after services and...”
Ruth chuckled. “Miriam told me. Good for her. I like Nip. He’ll take good care of her.” She reached up on a shelf and brought down an old tin box with Dutch flowers painted on it. “Peppermint all right with you?”
“I want chamomile,” Miriam said and then went on in a rush, “I’m so excited for Aunt Jezzy. She’s spent her whole life taking care of
Grossmama.
She deserves to be happy.”
“I have to admit, I was shocked.” Johanna dangled her bonnet by the strings. She hesitated, and then said what was foremost in her thoughts. “And being happy, if you’re a woman, does it always mean marrying?” She sighed. “Never mind me. Forget I asked that.” She glanced at Ruth again. “This is a happy time for you, for all of us. Give me a few minutes to change out of my church clothes, and we’ll all have that tea before you get too uncomfortable to enjoy it.”
“Take your time,” Ruth said as she put tea bags into mugs. Another contraction began and she gritted her teeth and rubbed the small of her back. “I’m not going anywhere.”
The kitchen door opened and Eli poked his head in. “Ruth, are you all right? Why aren’t you in bed?” He glanced at Johanna for confirmation. “Shouldn’t she be—?”
“
Ne,
Eli.” Ruth went to the door, and touched his hand lightly. “I’m fine,” she assured him. “Stop worrying. Surely you must have animals to feed.”
Johanna turned away, strangely touched by the tenderness between them. Among her people, public shows of affection, even between husband and wife, were rare. But Ruth and Eli were a lot like
Mam
and
Dat.
They didn’t seem to care who saw that they loved each other.
“We’ll take good care of her,” Johanna called over her shoulder. She didn’t want to intrude, but as she walked into the hallway that led to the parlor, she couldn’t help hearing Eli’s reply.
“I fed them. And I watered them all and forked down hay.”
“Then go home and feed Charley’s stock and our own,” Ruth suggested. “This is no place for a man. This is women’s work.”
“But I want to do something.”
“Pray for our babies,” she said.
“And for you, Ruth. I—”
Johanna couldn’t hear the rest of what Eli said, but the sense of his caring and his love for her sister brought a catch to her throat. Ruth had found a good man. He made her happy. And if she felt the restraint of being subject to her husband’s will, Ruth had never hinted at it by word or action.
Would that Wilmer and I could have had such a relationship,
she thought wistfully. He’d been away the night Jonah had come into the world, and he’d only come to the hospital twice, once to pick her up when she was released and again, weeks later, when their tiny son had finally been strong enough to come home. The Amish didn’t believe in insurance, as the English did, feeling that paying outsiders to cover unexpected losses showed a lack of faith in the Lord. Her own C-section and Jonah’s long stay in the neonatal care unit had saddled them with a heavy debt. And Wilmer had unconsciously blamed Jonah for the burden.
As she climbed the stairs, she reminded herself that life moves on.
Wilmer is dead, gone on to a better place, and God has blessed me with two healthy children.
Today, she had learned that her dear aunt was marrying, and Ruth—after waiting so long—was going to become a mother. Maybe her mother was right. Maybe it was time she put the past behind her and looked to the future...whatever that would be.
The sounds of Susanna’s whoop of excitement, Jeremiah’s high-pitched barking and the bustle of more people coming into the house quickened Johanna’s step. She promised herself that she wouldn’t wallow in her own concerns, but give herself wholeheartedly to Ruth’s special day.
In her room, Johanna changed quickly into a clean, everyday work dress and apron. And by the time she got back to the kitchen, she found not only Rebecca,
Mam
and Susanna there, but Anna, Aunt Jezzy and
Grossmama,
as well. Ruth was refilling the teakettle while Susanna fetched sugar, milk and lemon slices for their grandmother’s tea.
“Marrying, at your age.”
Grossmama
shook her finger at Aunt Jezzy. “And to a man old enough to be your grandfather. It’s indecent.”
Aunt Jezzy giggled, blushed and twirled her tea cup. “She doesn’t think I’m old enough to get married,” she said to Johanna.
Johanna tried not to show her amusement. Aunt Jezzy was
Grossmama’s
younger sister but, still, a woman in her sixties. Her grandmother’s mind often wandered these days, and her family was usually at odds as whether to laugh or cry at her stubborn declarations...especially the one where she believed
Dat
,
Grossmama’s
only son, was still alive and in the barn milking.
“At fifteen?”
Grossmama
exclaimed, insisting that Aunt Jezzy was a teenage girl. “The bishop won’t allow it. It’s your duty to stay home and help your mother raise the younger children.”
Johanna had learned that the easiest way to handle her grandmother was to agree with whatever she said and wait for her to move on to a new topic. The strangest thing was that for much of the time, she was perfectly lucid and had an excellent memory.
Johanna found a seat beside
Grossmama
and slipped an arm around her shoulders. “But Nip will be a good provider,” she said. “People order his bridles and halters from all over the country.”
Grossmama
frowned, and Johanna went on. “And you married young, yourself,
ne?
”
Grossmama
snorted. “And lived to regret it. All those useless girls and only a single son to support me in my old age.” She pointed at Anna. “My Jonas’s wife. She’s a good girl. She’s given him two strong sons and this sweet baby girl.” She waved a wrinkled finger at tiny Rose, who was now cradled in
Mam’s
arms.
Johanna didn’t try to explain that Anna was Jonas’s daughter and stepmother to Samuel’s two boys and three little girls. Baby Rose was Anna and Samuel’s child. That part, at least, was true. “But your mother has other girls at home to help her,” Johanna said, humoring her grandmother. “Better Jezzy marry her good harness maker before some other
meadle
snatches him up.” Johanna hoped God would forgive her for encouraging her
Grossmama’s
fancies, but arguing with her just made her worse. And there should be no strife here today with Ruth’s babies coming so soon.
“True, true,”
Grossmama
agreed. “Jezzy’s nothing to look at, and her butter never firms up. I always made the best butter, sweet and salty and yellow as the sun, so my
Dat
always said.”
“Your butter is the best,” Aunt Jezzy agreed with a twinkle in her eye. “And our Ruthie takes after you.” She patted her sister’s hand and smiled at Johanna. “And I will be close by if you need anything, just next door.”
Johanna tilted her head and her eyes widened in curiosity. “Next door?”
“Ya.”
Anna joined the conversation. “Nip has bought five acres from Samuel just across the road from our house. He wants to leave his harness shop and house for his second son, Joel, and build a new house for Aunt Jezzy. He thought it might be hard for her to change church districts and leave all of us. So she and Nip will be our new neighbors.”
“I never!” Aunt Martha and her daughter Dorcas stood in the open doorway, arms full. “You could have knocked me over with a feather when Samuel cried the banns for Aunt Jezzy and Nip. And him to build her a new house! If we have snow in midsummer or Rebecca married a Quaker, I’d not be more surprised.”
“Just a little house.” Aunt Jezzy hurried to take the pound cake from Aunt Martha’s hands while Dorcas carried a heavy kettle of soup and set it on the stove. “The two of us don’t need so much room and Joel will be wanting a wife soon. Best we leave him to it. He’s a fine harness maker, Nip says, and walking out with a girl from Belleville. Easier for the young folk to make a start without old folks peering over their shoulders.”
“I never,” Aunt Martha repeated. “That’s more words than I ever heard you string together at one time, and you quiet as mouse about courting Nip.” She shook her head and took down a coffee cup. “We’ve come to help out,” she said. “Had a vegetable beef soup warming on the back of the stove and said to Reuben, ‘I’ll just take that soup and that lemon pound cake to Hannah’s. I’ve sat at many a birthing.’” She offered a tight smile to Ruth. “Sensible for you to have your little ones here. No need for English doctors and hospitals.” She threw a glance at Dorcas. “You see that, daughter? Ruth found a good man, and her with red hair and freckles and a tongue in her mouth that won’t stop. You could do the same if you’d put your mind to—”
“Am I too late?” Grace said, barely visible under a sliding tower of pizza boxes, as she came into the kitchen. “Ruth didn’t have the babies—”
“Not yet.” Ruth rose to her feet and extended her arms to catch a falling pizza. “Didn’t you and John have a meeting with your preacher tonight? About your wedding?”
“Daniel’s aunt got a call from her cousin Arnie Brown. Noodle Troyer said you were in labor. Pizza Tonight messed up the order for our adult evening Sunday-school class and brought us double. The minister said there’d be a lot of people here, and Hannah shouldn’t have to cook and I should just bring the extra pizzas.” Grace dumped four boxes on the counter. “Are you really going to have the babies here?” Grace demanded. “Tonight?” She looked around. “With all of us here?”
Ruth chuckled. “I hope we’ll have them tonight. And this is just what I want. My family—”
A car horn sounded outside, and Johanna leaned back to push aside the curtain and peer out. A blue sedan with a stork decal on the door was just pulling up to the fence. “There’s the midwife,” Johanna said. “But there’s another woman with her.”
“That’s the RN, Jennifer Bryant,” Ruth answered. “She’s... Ohhh.” She gasped. “That’s a strong one.”
“Good.” Johanna clasped her hands together. “I guess that means we’re going to have these babies sooner rather than later.”
* * *
As Johanna had predicted, Ruth’s labor and delivery went as smoothly as possible. Red-haired Adam, six pounds and fourteen ounces, slid into the midwife’s hands at 5:43 a.m., followed only twenty-one minutes later by blond and chubby Luke, who outweighed his older brother by five ounces. Both boys had dark blue eyes and fair complexions. Other than hair color, they seemed as identical and content as two peas in a pod as they stared with wide-eyed innocence as joyous women gathered to welcome them into the world.