“Not yet, but I’m sure he’ll be along soon. Let’s wrap this around your little girl to be sure she’s snug enough.” She tucked the soft, warm towel around the tiny bundle in Leah’s arms.
“She’s so perfect,” Leah crooned, touching one small pink hand. “I can’t take my eyes off her.”
“I know.” She remembered those first moments of bonding—that sense of absolute wonderment that so perfect a creature could have come from her.
Leah’s mouth crumpled suddenly.
“What is it? Are you in pain?” If something went wrong ...
“No.” Leah wiped tears away with the back of her hand, laughing shakily. “I’m being silly. Just—I’m so glad you were here today. If you hadn’t been—”
“But I was, so don’t think that. And I’m glad, too.”
She wrapped her arms around Leah in a loving hug. They had gone through so much together, she and Leah. And now she’d been here to experience the wondrous gift of helping Leah give birth to her first child. As terrifying as it had been at times, she would never forget this as long as she lived.
“Did Gideon leave?” Leah brushed a strand of hair off her face.
Rachel smoothed the hair back and secured it with a hairpin. “He’s watching for the paramedics.” Even as she said the words, she heard the sound of tires on the gravel. “Here they are. I’ll go and let them in.”
In minutes the house seemed overly full of the emergency workers—three of them, but one a woman, to Leah’s obvious relief. She checked out Leah while another looked over the baby and the third filled in forms.
Pushed out of the room where she’d been indispensable, Rachel had busied herself with making coffee. She could use a cup herself, and she didn’t doubt that someone else would. She glanced up to see Gideon lingering on the threshold.
“Is everything all right? Leah and the baby?”
“They seem to be fine, as far as I can tell. The emergency workers are with them now. They’ll know better. I—”
Without warning, her knees seemed to buckle. She sat down abruptly in the nearest chair.
Gideon was with her in two quick strides. “Was ist letz?” He knelt next to her.
“Nothing. I mean, I’m all right.” She pressed her hand against her cheek and blinked to keep the tears away. “I’m being silly, that’s what. Anyone would think I had that baby.”
He reached toward her and then seemed to change his mind. Instead he filled a mug with coffee, added sugar, and brought it to her.
“Drink this.” He wrapped her hands around the warm mug. “You delivered the boppli. Seems to me you have a right to be a little shaky after that.”
“Ja. Shaky is right.” She sipped cautiously at the scalding brew, feeling its heat all the way to her stomach. “I was too busy to think about what could go wrong. Now that it’s over—”
“Now that it’s over, it would be ferhoodled to fret about things that didn’t happen.”
“Or things that happened in the past?”
She studied his face, so dear to her now. It was a dangerous question, but somehow the events of the last hour had pushed her beyond her usual caution. Gideon could be angry with her if he wanted, but this once she would try to probe past the guilt he kept like armor around him.
He took a step back, his face tightening. “Some things you can’t help but remember.”
“Remember, ja. But you didn’t let the memories keep you from doing what had to be done.” That was important. She sensed it but didn’t have the words to explain why.
He grasped the back of a chair, his big hands dwarfing the slat. “Leave it, Rachel.”
“I can’t.” Her throat was tight, but she forced herself to go on. “I can’t let you hide yourself away behind guilt that wasn’t yours to begin with. You didn’t choose to have an accident.”
“No.” His face twisted. “But that doesn’t matter. At least today Leah and her baby lived. I’m glad of that, but if you imagine it evens things up, you’re wrong.”
“Of course I don’t think that.” She’d get up, but she didn’t trust her legs to hold her. “There’s nothing to even up, nothing to repay, don’t you see that?”
He didn’t. That was written in the tense lines of his face. And before she could find any other words, footsteps thudded on the back porch and Daniel burst into the room, his eyes wide with fear.
“Leah ...”
“Leah is fine.” Strength surged through Rachel, and she went to him, clasping his hands in hers. “You have a beautiful daughter.”
The fear dissolved into incredible joy. “A little girl? You’re sure they’re all right?”
“Go and see for yourself.” She pushed him toward the door. “They’re waiting for you.”
He paused for an instant on the threshold, and she doubted that he even saw the three Englischers in the room. Then he ran toward his wife and baby
She was crying again. She mopped at her face with her hands. This was a day for tears as well as joy, it seemed.
She turned to say something of the kind to Gideon, but it was too late. He was gone.
Much
as she might want to, Rachel had no time to think about Gideon. Drawn by the emergency vehicle, Leah’s parents hurried in with the children, who’d apparently gone home from the sale with them.
“Leah? The baby?” Mattie Beiler clutched Elizabeth’s shoulders, keeping her from rushing into the room.
“All well.” Rachel’s eyes filled again at the words. “The paramedics are still in there. Maybe best if only Leah’s mamm goes in at the moment.”
“Ja, that’s right.” Elias, Leah’s father, caught young Jonah and put his hand on Matthew’s shoulder. “We will wait a moment.”
Elizabeth came to Rachel as soon as her grossmutter disappeared, seeming to need the security of another woman. “The boppli is all right? You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.” Rachel hugged her. “A little sister for you.”
“A girl?” Elizabeth’s face lit, the anxiety vanishing from her eyes. “I’m glad. I mean, a boy would have been nice, too,” she added, always eager to do and say the right thing. “But I already have a little brother.”
“Becky is going to be jealous of you, I’m afraid. She would love to have another baby around to help with and to hold.”
Rachel’s heart seemed to wince as she said the words. She would love that, too, but it was unlikely ever to happen now.
The paramedics came out, ready to leave after failing to convince Leah to go to the hospital. She would stay at home, she insisted, just as they had planned.
People started arriving, worried and eager to help. Some were satisfied with a brief explanation and headed off home to prepare food to bring. Others started for the barn to take over Daniel’s chores, needing no explanation of what had to be done. One of Leah’s brothers went to contact the midwife. It was her community at its best, but Rachel could have done with a little more quiet.
Probably Leah, in the room adjoining the kitchen, felt the same. When she’d planned to stay downstairs for a few days with the new boppli, maybe she hadn’t anticipated the noise problem.
When the rush finally died down, Rachel tiptoed to the doorway to take a peek inside. Leah slept, the babe dozing in her arms. Daniel sat on the edge of the bed, one hand over hers, the other touching his new child.
Blinking back tears, Rachel beckoned to the children. They slipped out quietly. “We should let your mamm sleep now, ain’t so?”
They nodded, maybe a little reluctant. Then Matthew clapped Jonah on the shoulder. “We’ll go do our chores. No sense letting other folks do what we should do.”
The boys went out, and Elizabeth tugged at Rachel’s sleeve. “About what you said before—about Becky, I mean.” Her small face was very serious. “Tell her that she can love my new baby sister, too. All right?”
“Ja. Ser gut.” Rachel hugged the child, touched by her thoughtfulness. “I think your grossmutter went upstairs to get some blankets and diapers for the boppli. Maybe you can help her.”
Elizabeth nodded and scurried off toward the steps, skipping a little in her happiness.
Everyone was happy, it seemed. Everyone but Gideon.
Rachel’s heart ached so much that she put her hand on her chest. Gideon was a prisoner of his own guilt, and he wasn’t the only person who hurt as a result.
She loved him. The feeling had crept up so gradually that she hadn’t even noticed it until it was too late to stop it. Not like she’d loved Ezra—not more or less. Just different. This love wasn’t the same, but it still could be full and complete. They could have been happy together.
Gideon had helped her in so many ways, even with things they hadn’t spoken of. He’d helped her heal from her grief. He’d helped her gain the confidence that she could manage on her own. And now, with God’s help, she’d do exactly that.
But they could have been happy.
Daniel came into the kitchen, a contented smile still lurking in his eyes. “I know you must be getting back to your own family, but Leah is awake and wants to see you before you go.”
“Gut. Then I can see that sweet babe again.”
She started into the room, and as she passed him, he touched her arm lightly.
“Denke, Rachel,” he whispered. “Denke.”
She nodded, heart full, and went to Leah.
Leah leaned back on pillows propped against the headboard, still cradling her sleeping daughter in her arms. Rachel sat down gingerly on the bed, careful not to jostle them.
“You know, you really can put her down in her bassinet.”
Leah’s lips curved. “No, I can’t. Not yet.” She traced her finger along the baby’s soft cheek. “I’m too busy marveling at her.”
“I know.” Rachel said the words softly, content just to watch Leah with her babe.
Their friendship had lasted for her entire life, but it wasn’t the same as it had been. That was gut. With each new challenge met, with each grief they endured, they grew, and so did their bond.
She didn’t have to say that to Leah. Some things went too deep for words.
“Daniel and I have been talking for months about the name for the boppli. Funny, but we could never decide on a girl’s name.” Leah dropped a feather-light kiss on the baby’s head. “Now that we have seen her, we know exactly what it should be.”
“And what is it?” A family name, most likely.
Leah smiled, but it was tinged with just a little sorrow. “I want you to meet Rachel Anna Glick. Named for the sister I lost, and for the friend who is closer than a sister.”
Tears filled Rachel’s eyes again. For a moment she couldn’t speak. Then she managed a whisper.
“Denke, Leah.” She touched her friend’s hand. “Perhaps one day Anna will return.”
“I never stop praying for that. I never will.”
“I, too,” she whispered, her heart full.
Gideon
tightened the screw and stood back to study his handiwork. It was odd. This idea had been in his mind for a long time. Today, he felt driven to turn it into reality.
The model windmill was an exact copy of the real thing, but it stood only five feet high. Just the right size, he’d think, to go into someone’s garden.
He picked up the next crosspiece. Maybe he’d been figuring that working on something new would keep his mind off Rachel. If so, he’d been wrong. She drifted through his thoughts, distracting him, making him feel things he’d put away long ago.
“What do you have there, Gideon? Something new to sell?”
The voice startled him. He turned to see Bishop Mose pausing in the doorway as if waiting for an invitation to enter.
“Komm in.” He put down his tools. “What brings you out our way today?”
“Ach, if I’d use my head, I wouldn’t have to put so many miles on my buggy.” The bishop rounded the worktable and stood surveying the miniature windmill. “I had to speak to Aaron about trading his date for the worship schedule. So I thought I’d step out here to see what you are working on.”
“Something new. You’re right about that.” An object that was just “for pretty” as the people said. Would the bishop question that? “As for selling—well, I haven’t got that far yet.”
Mose walked all around the windmill. “Just like a real one, ain’t so?”
Gideon nodded, waiting.
Mose stroked his beard, seeming to consider. “A gut idea, I’d say. Englischers will want one of those to put in their gardens. Some of our own people, too, I don’t doubt. You should put one on display.”
“Maybe.”
He’d said once, half—joking, that he’d make them for Rachel to sell alongside her plants. But going into partnership with Rachel suddenly seemed a dangerous business—dangerous to both his heart and his peace of mind.
Mose didn’t prompt him for more of an answer. That wasn’t his way He just looked at him for a long moment, wise eyes seeming to see further into a person’s heart than was comfortable.
“I stopped by the Glick farm on my way here. Baby and Mammi are both doing fine. Thanks to you.”
Gideon picked up the crosspiece and began fitting it into place. “Not me. I did nothing but make a phone call. Rachel is the one who did the hard part.”
“Ja. Leah and Daniel are mighty thankful that she was there. But you arrived at just the right time, I hear. The gut Lord’s doing, no doubt. Rachel and Leah both would have been frightened if they hadn’t known they could count on you to get help.”
“It was only what anyone would do.” He tapped the screw to start it and began to screw it in. “I’m thankful Leah and the boppli are both doing well.”
And he’d be even more thankful if he could stop talking about it. Thinking about it. Remembering Rachel’s courage and her confidence in him.
Bishop Mose showed no inclination to leave. He propped himself against the workbench as if he had all day to talk. “Did you hear what they named the boppli?”
“No.”
“Rachel Anna.”
Gideon had to swallow the lump in his throat. “That’s fitting, isn’t it? Since Rachel brought her into this world.”
“Ja. She’s a fine woman, Rachel is.”