Promise to Cherish (30 page)

Christine grew hot. What was Moses saying?

“An English girl. Maybe I need to take a look at her.”

“Oh, no, you won’t want to. She’s already all used up. I think Eli’s gonna be a daddy.”

Christine’s gasp was more of a cry. She stepped away from the outhouse wall and looked at the three men. Bucket turned and she could see the scars that ran the length of his face. His hair was cut like all the soldiers. He was tall and thin. Moses’s face grew red and Eli’s hands clenched but his eyes locked on her own.

“Eli, you promised,” she muttered. Beginning to cry, she ran as fast as she could through the field and toward the cottage.

“Christine!” She could hear him step toward her but then all she could hear was the sound of her own sobs.

CHAPTER 23

E
li had lied to her. He had told his brothers that she was expecting, and they thought he was the father. He’d promised her that he wouldn’t tell until she was ready. He had been so good to her—so kind, and so sure that everything would work out. Now everyone would know that she was
all used up
. She closed the front door behind her then ran to her room, slamming the door. With her back against the door she slid down and sat, pulling her knees up. The very action of this made her feel how her belly was growing. The bulge pushed against her legs and told her that her secret was going to get out any day now anyway. She leaned her head forward, not quite on her knees, and cried.

Christine had been in Sunrise for less than a month and she thought things were going well. She and Annie had an instant connection and even Sylvia was becoming a friend. But now that her disgrace was known, this arrangement would never work. Christine would have to write to the maternity home and buy a bus ticket as soon as possible. Then she’d give the baby up for adoption. No one would ever have to know.

“Christine?” Eli’s voice came from the other side of the door.

“Go away, Eli.”

“Christine, please. Open the door. We need to talk.”

She didn’t answer. Her anger was nothing compared to her hurt.

“I didn’t tell Moses. I promise you.” After several long moments he sighed deeply. “I had to tell my parents and he overheard. Please, Christine,” he whispered.

Christine could feel his heat through the door. She could always feel Eli’s heat when they were anywhere together. It was always something that bothered her in the beginning but the more she got to know him and the more she had grown to care for him, she began craving the heat. It energized her and made her believe that she could trust what he said.

Christine scooted away from the door, lifted her hand, and turned the key under the door knob. The click was loud in the quiet of the house. When the door moved open she saw Eli standing there. His face was in a panic and his knuckles bloody.

“What did you do?”

He looked at his knuckles then back at her. “Punched a wall.”

“Why?”

“Because I knew I couldn’t hit Bucket or Moses.”

“Come on.” She pulled him into the kitchen where there was a basin of water. She took his bloodied hand and dabbed it with a wet cloth.

“I really am sorry, Christine.” He put his other hand on hers. She looked up and inhaled. He was so close. She wanted to forgive him but her hurt was too much. She looked down and he pulled his hand away so she could continue cleaning the wound. She couldn’t let his gaze penetrate her too deeply. He’d lied and betrayed her confidence.

“I’m going to—” her voice quivered as she spoke. “I’m going to write to that maternity home. I can’t stay here. I need to go. You know that I’m right.”

“Please. Don’t go.” Eli took his wounded hand from her, put both of his hands on her waist, and pulled her closer.

Christine held her breath.

“Christine, look at me.” The heat grew—her body was on fire. She closed her eyes for a long moment before she opened them again. She couldn’t trust her instincts. She had trusted Jack and look what had come of that. Now Eli had disappointed her as well. She saw Annie walking toward the cottage through the window.

“I can’t.” She gently pushed against his chest. “I want you to leave.”

“Christine,” he whispered and leaned closer in to her.

“You need to leave,” she whispered back and let her eyes find his. She saw in his eyes what she imagined was in her own—disappointment, fear, and maybe even some self-loathing. As she tried to blink away her tears several slipped down her cheek. Eli’s shoulder sagged and his hands dropped from her waist. She clenched her jaw in order to keep herself from crying.

“Hi, there,” Annie strolled in, walking through the kitchen without really looking at them. “Walked down to the Peterscheims for coffee.” She took her coat off and looked over. “Oh, Eli, I didn’t notice. Do you want to stay for lunch? I’ve got some friendship bread cooling.”

Eli stepped away. Their eyes met again.

“I need to get back to work,” he said.

Christine didn’t watch him leave but when she heard the front door close she leaned back against the kitchen counter and for a moment thought she would collapse. In a few moments Annie stood in front of her.

“Do you want to talk about it?” the older woman asked.

Christine sat down in a kitchen chair as her answer. Annie put some water on for tea then joined her at the table.

“When are you due?” Annie asked.

Christine’s head snapped up, looking at her.

“How did you find out? Did Eli tell you, too?”

“
Mei maedle
.” Annie patted Christine’s hand. “I’ve known since the first day you were here. Then when you were suddenly sick at church. The ham.”

“How?”

“Listen. I delivered my first baby forty-four years ago. I know a baby’s on the way before the mothers do. It’s just something I can sense after all these years.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I figured God would tell me when.”

They were both quiet for a few moments. The wall clock clicked loudly and she could hear a storm brewing.

“Eli said he didn’t tell Moses but he found out and then this boy Bucket was there and—”

“Christine, what’s really the problem? I don’t really think its Moses or this
Bucket
you’re talking about.”

Christine contemplated what Annie was getting at.

“But Moses said I was
all used up
. It was terrible and humiliating and . . .” She couldn’t finish.

Annie took her hand this time.

“Those Brenneman boys are all pretty spiteful against Eli. Now that he’s back I think they might do whatever they can to make things tough on him.”

“It’s because of Mark, isn’t it? Why?”

“You know, a lot of people think that old folks like me don’t know or see anything. I’ve been living here since December and I’ve seen a whole lot. More than what anyone thinks I do. Mark just likes to stir things up, mostly just petty things, and I think all the other boys are taking Mark’s side.”

“Before I got here I thought that all of you just always got along. I mean, you pray twice for meals, before and after. That’s pretty religious. Then you wear your bonnets or
coverings
and it
means you can pray all the time since your head is covered. And your families are so big and everyone takes care of one another. Like this house, your family is taking care of you, right? So how is it possible that Eli’s brothers don’t even like him? I’ve begun to wonder if they’re right about him.”

Annie leaned back in her chair. It creaked even though she was so small. There was a smile on her face as she began speaking.

“We’re Amish, Christine, not angels.”

“I didn’t mean . . .” She paused.

“You’re not alone with thinking we are
angels
. People often confuse the two. Less so since the war started. It brought up a lot of judgment that we’ve all tried to forget since the beginning of the First World War. When our boys didn’t sign up to fight I think our churches were seen as more than just different on the outside from all the other American boys. We seek peace but we still have problems like everyone else. We separate ourselves from the world because it’s the best way we know to be close to God. But that doesn’t mean we don’t still have our fair share of problems.” She paused. “Give Eli a chance to explain. He cares for you.”

“He shouldn’t care for me. This is not his baby,” she clarified. “This baby doesn’t have a father.”

Annie leaned forward and took Christine’s hands and squeezed them in her own. “Everyone has a Father.”

Christine didn’t want to talk about Jack. She wanted to change the subject and thought of Aunt Annie’s babies.

“The first Sunday I went to church with you I heard you say that you’ve lost babies.”

Annie’s face twitched and she squeezed Christine’s hands before letting go. After a moment she nodded.

“Can I ask what happened?”

“We really don’t know why. I lost three beautiful babies. But they weren’t miscarriages; two were stillborn and one was born alive.”

“I’m so sorry. Couldn’t the doctors do something for you?” Her hands went to her abdomen as fear coursed through her heart. What if that happened to her baby?

“Oh, they just rattled off some highfalutin words that I never understood.” She sighed. “Joyce, my third, lived the longest. Two hours and eleven minutes.”

Annie’s eyes were so sad. Christine reached a hand out to Annie only to pause suddenly for the stirring that grew within her. It puzzled her and slowly her hand returned to her stomach. The fluttering sensation was the baby.

“What is it?” Annie asked and sat a little taller.

“I think I am feeling the baby.” Her voice was laced with wonder and shock.

“May I?” Annie asked. Christine nodded.

Annie leaned over and put her hands on Christine’s small stomach.

“Does it feel like a feather just brushed up against you?” the older woman asked.

Christine nodded. “Is that normal? Everything’s all right, isn’t it?”

“It’s like a secret between your baby and you. No one else can feel what you are feeling. Your baby wants you to know that he’s there.”

“He?”

“I could be wrong, but I think this babe’s a boy.”

Instead of mirroring the storm that was brewing outside, a calmness poured over Christine with Annie’s hands warm and comforting on her abdomen. A boy.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Christine nodded.

“Let me be your midwife. Let me take care of you.”

“But I don’t even know if I’m going to stay. I think I should leave. There’s a home—”

“Don’t go. If you go your child will surely be taken away from you. Is that what you really want?”

Christine shrugged. “I don’t know. I could start over again, right? And the baby would have a mother
and
a father. Isn’t that what’s best?”

“Just don’t make any hasty decisions. There’s plenty of time.” She patted Christine’s hands. “I have a feeling this baby was conceived in fear and pain, but don’t punish the babe. I just know things will work out.”

Hot tears trailed down Christine’s face. “I hate his father and I feel very angry with Eli also. I’m afraid God isn’t very happy with me right now. So, how do you know that things will work out?”

“I know because I know our Father. That’s the only way you’re going to heal. If you decide to go to this home, just don’t shut God out of your life or your plans.”

While all Eli could think of was the day’s events with Christine, he was still obligated to join the Millers for supper. Eli had heard Matilda was spreading rumors about him eating a whole cherry pie she baked for him. He needed to clear everything up and finally put Matilda behind him. The weeknight invitation wasn’t common for the young people. They usually had to depend on Sunday church services and Singings. Since Eli had been away for so long, it was natural that he would get some supper invitations. He figured it would be better to deal with Matilda at her own home instead of at another Singing, since she hadn’t gotten the message at the last one.

All through the drive Eli thought of Christine and their argument. In a different way from Matilda, he’d let himself get in too deep with Christine also. If she stayed or left, nothing would be easy.

The evening drive was warmer than expected and somehow
Eli believed that the comfortable temperature would make his words to Matilda less biting. Matilda bounded out of the house when his horse and buggy pulled into the gravel drive. He sat in silence, giving himself a few long moments before attempting to break up with a girl he wasn’t dating.

Eli hopped out and Matilda’s brightness nearly blinded him. He inhaled deeply and diverted his eyes to the tree nearby that blew softly in the spring breeze. He couldn’t put it off any longer. Eli leaned against the buggy and cleared his throat. How to start?

“We’ve been cooking all day.
Dat
said to pull out the canned venison for a hearty stew and I baked another cherry pie—just for you.”

“Because I ate the last one all by myself?” He raised an eyebrow as he looked at her.

Matilda shut her mouth and her face turned red. She looked at her feet.