Authors: Marta Perry
“Perhaps you could talk to Mr. Schmidt and let us know,” she offered.
“Ja. I will do that.” Aaron didn’t seem grateful for the olive branch she held out.
“Denke. I must be on my way. It was gut to meet you, Nathan.”
Nathan murmured something in reply, his gaze still fixed, frowning, on his brother.
“I’ll wait to hear from you, then.” Sarah escaped as quickly as possible, only to find Aaron following her, holding the door. He closed it behind them.
She started to move away, but he stopped her, one hand closing over hers. His hand was warm and work-hardened, and it seemed to envelop hers. His expression was frowning.
“I thought that Emma had given up the idea of expanding. That she was going to retire.”
“Have you been talking to my cousin Jonas?” She couldn’t seem to prevent the snap in her voice.
His gaze held hers. “Jonas is her son. I’m sure he wants what is best for her.”
“Perhaps Aunt Emma is the one to decide what that is.”
His gaze seemed to bore into her, and his grip was firm. He let go quite suddenly and took a step back.
“Perhaps. I will check on the other job and stop by the house later to let you know.”
“Fine.” She headed back down the lane.
Fine. Except that her plans weren’t fine with Aaron—that was certain sure. And she wished she understood why.
Aaron
felt Nathan’s accusing gaze on him when he reentered the shop. He had a feeling his younger brother wasn’t going to let the subject rest.
“Why did you try to put Sarah off like that?” Nathan, usually easygoing, didn’t let a moment pass before launching into the subject. “You know as well as I do that we’ll be looking for a job once we finish this one, and one more day’s work ought to be enough.”
“Unless Mrs. Donohue thinks of some other change she wants made.” Aaron tried to divert Nathan, but he suspected Nathan wasn’t going to let go.
“There’s not much else she can change, ain’t so? And I’ll eat my hammer if Eli actually decides he wants that job done next week. You should be happy to have a bit of work fall right into our laps.”
Nathan’s persistence began to annoy him. “The last time I looked, I was the one to handle the scheduling around here.”
Nathan planted his hands on the workbench. “The last time I looked, you were telling me I ought to take on more responsibility for the business. How do you think it seemed, you coming in and telling Sarah we couldn’t do the job when I’d just told her we could?”
The fact that Nathan was right only made matters worse. “I wasn’t trying to make you look bad. I just don’t want ...” He had to let that die away, because he didn’t want to go anywhere near the real reason he felt as he did.
“Maybe the truth is that you don’t want to share the responsibility.” Nathan looked younger than his years, suddenly—young and vulnerable, as if discovering that the big brother he admired wasn’t the man he’d thought.
Aaron took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t be interfering when you’re talking to a customer. Maybe we both ought to consult each other about taking on new jobs. What do you think?”
The hurt drained from Nathan’s face. “Do you mean that?”
“I do.” He rested his hand on his brother’s shoulder, thinking of all the times he’d done just that as Nathan grew from a little boy suddenly without a mother to a man. “Suppose I check with Eli, just to be sure. Then I’ll go over to Emma’s place and talk to them about the work. All right?”
“All right.” Nathan’s smile returned. “I’ll finish up the last of these cabinet doors this afternoon already. Then we can move on.”
A couple of hours later, Aaron cut across the brittle brown grass of the pasture toward Emma’s house. He paused to pat Dolly, grazing in the field. The early frost had left little for the horse to eat this winter, and he could see that Emma had already started to give the animal extra hay. If the weather kept on this way, they’d be in for a hard winter.
The half-finished addition came into view as he approached Emma’s, and his stomach tightened. Birthing rooms, Sarah had said it was for.
Plenty of Amish used midwives, and most of them praised Emma Stoltzfus for her skill and caring. But most of them didn’t have his memories of his mother dying, leaving him responsible for the younger ones when he was only fourteen himself.
He forced his thoughts away from that. He didn’t want to let his feelings interfere with business, but he also didn’t want this job. So he’d look over the situation, talk about how much time it would take, and offer to help find someone else to do the work.
It wasn’t the best solution, but it was one he could live with. As for what Nathan would think—well, he’d just better come up with some other job offers to distract the boy.
Not a boy any longer, his conscience reminded him. A man now, and one he’d promised to consult on jobs.
His jaw clenched. This was Sarah Mast’s fault. If she hadn’t come to Pleasant Valley, he wouldn’t be faced with this unpalatable situation.
A horse waited patiently at the hitching rail behind Emma’s house. Bishop Mose’s horse and buggy. What was the bishop doing at Emma’s house this afternoon?
It was too late to think of backing out. Emma had opened the back door and was beckoning him in.
“Aaron, it’s gut to see you. I was chust telling Bishop Mose how you brought Sarah to me yesterday when I forgot to send someone for her.”
Emma seemed to have taken on new life since the arrival of her niece. Her cheeks were rosy, and her eyes snapped with life.
Aaron followed her into the kitchen. “Bishop Mose.” He inclined his head to the spiritual leader of the Pleasant Valley Amish. “Sarah.”
Sarah responded to his greeting with a watchful look. Well, no wonder about that. They hadn’t exactly parted on the best of terms.
“I came to say how happy we are to have Sarah with us,” Bishop Mose said, gesturing with his coffee cup. “And I stayed to enjoy some of Emma’s wonderful-gut cinnamon buns.”
Emma was already headed for the coffeepot. “Aaron, you’ll have something, won’t you?”
“Not now, denke, Emma. I wanted to have a look at the addition while it’s still light.”
“Aaron is going to finish the birthing rooms for us.” Emma beamed as she sat down opposite the bishop. “We are so fortunate to have such a fine carpenter.”
“Plenty of fine carpenters around,” Aaron said quickly. It was no part of his plan to be committed to this project in front of the bishop.
“People have choices, then,” Bishop Mose said placidly. “In carpenters, and in how they have their babies.”
Before Aaron could decide how to take Bishop Mose’s words, Sarah was opening the door that led to the addition.
“This way,” she said.
He followed her out into the addition, closing the door so that the heat wouldn’t escape the house. He glanced around the raw, unfinished space.
“You have a start on the project, at least.”
She nodded. “Aunt Emma says we can trust you to tell us whether it’s been done right and what it will take to finish it.”
He could already see that some shortcuts had been taken in the job. Little though he’d want to criticize a brother, he couldn’t in all honesty say that it was the best of work.
“Well, we all work a little different. If it was me, I would use four-by-fours instead of the two-by-fours here. And you’ll need thick insulation in these walls, I’d say.”
“Ja.” She smiled, as if she saw something other than the roughed-out exterior. “We want our mothers to be comfortable when they come to us for births.”
“You won’t be doing home births, then?” He paced the measurements of the space, pulling out his notebook to jot down figures, interested in the project in spite of himself. He couldn’t see a bit of building done carelessly without wanting to fix it. A man should do his work, whatever it was, as if it were done for God. That was what the Bible taught and what he believed.
“Oh, ja, home births for those who want it. But some women would rather go to a birthing center, and it is gut for us to work in a place where everything is ready to hand. It also helps if two mothers decide to give birth at the same time.”
“Is that what you did in Ohio?”
It seemed the polite thing to ask, even though he had little interest in talking about the subject. Still, he did like the way Sarah’s face came to life. Her enthusiasm made her look more like the girl he remembered from that long-ago summer.
“Ja, I worked with two other midwives there. Aunt Emma and I won’t need as much space here, maybe, but we want two rooms, each with windows, and two bathrooms between them. Then we’ll want cabinets built in to hold our equipment and supplies.”
It was time to stop watching the way Sarah’s face lit up at the prospect and start working his way out of this situation.
“It’s a bigger job than I thought,” he said, staring at his notes to avoid looking at her. “With only Nathan and me working, it will take a while to do. And as for the cost—well, I’ll have to figure that out, but it’s going to be substantial.”
He was trying not to look at her, but he couldn’t miss the flicker of dismay on her face.
“If you think Emma isn’t prepared to take on the expense—”
“It’s not my aunt who’s paying for it,” she said, her voice firm. “I am doing that. It is my investment in the practice.”
“I see. I didn’t realize . . .”
“My husband’s share of the farm out in Ohio provides me with enough to cover the project, if you’re concerned about being paid.”
He’d offended her now, and that wasn’t his intent. He just didn’t want to be involved in this project. Let someone do it who believed in midwives.
“I didn’t doubt that.” He said the words gently. “But if you’re talking about investing all that you have in this—Well, I don’t want to see you get hurt if it doesn’t work out.”
“It will work out.” The words were filled with such longing that they touched his heart. “My life is here now.”
The door opened, and Bishop Mose stepped out to join them before Aaron could think of any proper response.
“Well, have you two figured everything out? Aaron, how soon will you be able to start the work here?”
With Bishop Mose’s wise old eyes on him, with that vulnerable expression on Sarah’s face, Aaron discovered that it was impossible to say what he’d intended.
“Next week.” He heard the words come out of his mouth with a sense of disbelief. “We should be able to start next week.”
CHAPTER THREE
P
eople
were looking at her. That was only natural, arriving as Sarah was for worship for the first time, but it still made her feel self-conscious.
She walked beside Aunt Emma toward the barn at Leah and Daniel Glick’s place. Just being with her aunt was a lesson in humility. Every person knew Emma Stoltzfus, of course, as any Amish person knows everyone in the church district.
But people greeted Emma with a special combination of affection and respect. She’d served them faithfully for so many years—how could they help but feel that way?
Would the Amish of Pleasant Valley ever accept Sarah? If she modeled herself on Aunt Emma, perhaps.
Her aunt crossed the frosty stubble of grass to a group of older women, some widows, as people began to gather into the groups in which they’d file into the barn for worship. The Glick family would no doubt have spent the week scrubbing and clearing the barn to prepare for this day. Each family in the congregation would take a turn hosting church in home or shop or barn, and that space, no matter how humble, became a house of worship for the day.
She was about to join the group of older women when someone caught her arm. She turned to see Rachel Zook smiling at her.
“Wilkom to worship, Sarah. I want you to meet my friend Leah Glick.”
The woman who stood next to Rachel was the one hosting services that day, then. Seeing them together it was clear that they were friends, just by their quick exchange of glances.
“We are so glad you have come to join us.” Leah’s serene smile seemed to radiate warmth. “We’ve been working our Emma so hard. Now she will have someone to help share the load.”
“That’s what I hope.” Sarah smiled at the toddler pressed close to Leah’s skirt. “Are you one of my aunt’s babies?”
“Ach, no, my sister Leah didn’t wait for the midwife to arrive,” another young woman said as she joined them, smiling at the question.
“Sarah, this is my sister, Anna Fisher, just back from her wedding trip.” Leah patted the newcomer’s arm. “She means that Rachel here had to deliver her namesake when our little Rachel arrived ahead of schedule.”
“She must have done a wonderful-gut job, then, to bring such a beautiful little girl into the world.”
Leah’s child stared at her with a solemn expression in her huge blue eyes and then reached out a chubby hand, patting Sarah’s skirt.
The women laughed.
“See, she knows already that you are someone who loves a boppli.” Anna leaned a little closer. “I’m so glad you are here as well, Sarah. I pray that I’ll have reason to visit you soon.”
“Ser gut,” she said. “My aunt and I will be happy to see you.”
This warm welcome was what she’d hoped for, but at the same time it made Sarah a tiny bit uneasy. She wanted to help Aunt Emma, not replace her. Their relationship might be difficult if patients started asking for her instead of her aunt.
“There will be plenty to keep you both busy,” Rachel said, as if she understood the concern that lurked in Sarah’s heart.
“I hope so.” The words came out perhaps too fervently. “We’re adding two birthing rooms to Aunt Emma’s house, so that anyone who wants to give birth there instead of at home can do so.”
“That’s gut, that is,” Rachel said. “I was afraid Emma had given up on that plan. Who is doing the carpentry work for you?”
“Aaron Miller and his brother have agreed to finish it.” Sarah had already spotted Aaron’s tall figure among the men, looking even more severe than usual in his Sunday black.
“He is?” Rachel sounded faintly surprised. “He’ll do a fine job for you, that’s certain sure,” she added quickly. She glanced across the group of young women assembling for worship as if looking for other possible clients for the midwife practice.
“Mary Esch is expecting,” Leah said, her voice soft. “But she is going to Dr. Mitchell, I hear.”
“My aunt mentioned that there is a new doctor in town. In our practice in Ohio, we had a wonderful-gut relationship with a local doctor. He referred women to us who wanted a midwife for the birth, and we sent patients to him when we felt they needed special care. Perhaps I should go and talk to Dr. Mitchell.”
Leah and Rachel exchanged glances that seemed to contain a wealth of meaning. “Maybe that’s not such a gut idea,” Rachel said.
“Why is that?”
Anna prodded Rachel. “Go on, tell her. She ought to know.”
“Whatever it is, I think you should tell me.” Sarah forced a smile.
“Ach, Anna is such a blabbermaul.” Rachel elbowed her friend affectionately. “I hope it’s not so bad as I’ve heard, but I wouldn’t want you to get caught in an awkward situation.”
“Tell her,” Anna insisted. “If I were Sarah, I’d want to know.”
“It’s just that I’ve talked to a few women who are going to Dr. Mitchell for their babies.” Rachel looked unhappy at being pushed into delivering bad news. “They said that Dr. Mitchell is very outspoken on the subject of midwives. He thinks they’re not qualified to deliver babies.”
The women had begun to file into the barn for worship, so Rachel couldn’t say more if she wanted to. And Sarah didn’t think she wanted to hear any more.
Her stomach churned as she followed Rachel through the wide doors into the barn, where several kerosene heaters had been set up to take the chill from the air.
It wasn’t unheard-of to meet people who felt that way about midwives. Even doctors. She had probably been fortunate in her previous practice to have Dr. O’Neill’s generous support.
The doctor’s opinion needn’t be a problem, she assured herself as she sat between Rachel and Anna on one of the backless benches that were taken from house to house for worship. Dr. Mitchell could go his way, and they would go theirs.
If he would let them.
The thought intruded and did not want to go away. The last thing she and Aunt Emma needed when they were trying to expand their practice was the enmity of the local doctor.
Three
hours later, Sarah emerged into the chilly air, blinking in the bright sunlight. She pulled her long black coat closer, feeling a little adrift, as she so often did after worship.
It was a fault to feel this way. She could remember a time when meeting with her church family to worship together was unalloyed joy.
But that was before the grief of her childlessness had grown like a chasm between her and Levi. When the love she’d been so sure was strong enough for a lifetime had grown cold with his disappointment. She had prayed, at first humbly, sure God would answer, and then with growing desperation.
Was that wrong? The church’s teachings said that a believer should accept whatever happened as God’s will. But women in the Bible like Sarah and Hannah had prayed endlessly for a child, and their prayers had been granted.
Her thoughts began to circle, and they always did on this subject, and she tried to push it to the back of her mind. She’d be far better off to keep herself too busy for such wonderings.
Behind her, some of the men were rapidly setting up tables, so that the congregation could eat in the relative warmth of the barn instead of outside, as they would in milder weather. Leah could use some help in the kitchen, if Sarah knew anything about serving lunch after church.
She headed for the back door of the farmhouse, spotting Rachel headed in the same direction, probably for the same reason. But when Sarah reached the porch steps, a tall figure intercepted her.
“Sarah.” Aaron inclined his head politely. “Are they putting you to work already?”
She managed a smile despite the fact that she could sense the tension that always seemed to grip Aaron when he was around her. “I know how busy it is in the kitchen on a church day. I’m sure Leah could use an extra pair of hands.”
“I won’t keep you. We can come over tomorrow to do some preliminary work, if that is all right.” His face tightened. “I know that Emma sees patients on some days, and we would not want to interfere.”
“Tuesdays and Thursdays are usually patient days, but I don’t think—”
She broke off as a small figure hurtled past them toward the steps, tripping over Aaron’s feet. Before she could move, Aaron had set the boy on his feet, his big hands gentle.
“Ach, Joseph, there will be plenty of food for you,” he teased. “You don’t need to be in such a rush.”
Sarah’s heart gave a funny little bump at the smile Aaron gave the boy. She should have realized he’d be gut with kinder, after practically raising his own siblings. But she hadn’t seen that affectionate smile before, since all he had for her, it seemed, was that expression of stolid disapproval.
The boy looked up, grinning, obviously not worried about the reproof. “I know,” he said. “But I just remembered that I promised Mammi I would help carry the food out. It must be almost time, ain’t so?”
“Almost,” Aaron agreed solemnly. “I’m sure your mammi will call when she needs you, so you’d best stay close.” Aaron tousled the boy’s fine hair and set his hat back into place. “Sarah, this is Joseph, Rachel’s boy.”
“Wie bist du heit, Joseph. It’s nice to meet you.” So this was one of Rachel’s kinder. He had a bit of her looks, with those big, serious eyes and gentle expression.
“You are Sarah, the new midwife, ain’t so? Are you going to help in the kitchen? If my mamm is looking for me, will you tell her I’m here?”
“I will.”
Aaron patted his shoulder. “Off you go and play with the other boys ’til it’s time.”
Sarah watched him run off, a little slower this time. “A nice boy to be so concerned about helping.”
“Ja. Gid and Rachel are fortunate in their family.”
Was there wistfulness in Aaron’s tone, as if he wished he were a father by now? Or was he wondering why she didn’t have a family after four years of marriage? She tried to shake off the thought. That was foolishness, and self-centered as well. She’d best concentrate on business.
“We were talking about your working on patient days. I don’t think it would be a problem. You will be working in the addition, after all.”
“We’ll see.” Aaron sounded as if nothing would get them there on a patient day.
She was imagining things, surely. “We will look for you tomorrow, then.”
He nodded, and she went on into the house, maybe a little more quickly than she needed to.
Several women were already at work in the kitchen, including Rachel, who was slicing cakes at the far end of the room. A girl who must be her daughter stood at her elbow to help.
Like most Amish kitchens, this one looked like any Englisch kitchen, except that the appliances were powered by gas. The long wooden table that would seat Leah’s family for meals had been pressed into service as a staging area for all the food necessary to feed such a crowd.
Leah’s small daughter toddled across the kitchen floor to grasp her mother’s skirt. Sarah smiled at her and then transferred her attention to Leah.
“I hoped that I might be able to help with the lunch.”
“Ach, Sarah, you need not do that on your first Sunday with us.” Leah sliced a loaf of wheat bread with rapid strokes.
“But I’d like to. Doing something will make me feel at home.”
Leah gave in with a smile. “Why don’t you help my sister-in-law put sandwiches on trays, then? Some of the boys are waiting to carry them to the barn.”
Sarah joined the buxom woman at the table who was quickly putting bologna sandwiches onto large metal trays. “Can I do that?”
“Ja, denke.” The woman swung toward the refrigerator. “I will get more out. I am Barbara Beiler, Leah’s sister-in-law.” She had rosy round cheeks and a pair of snapping brown eyes. “You are Sarah Mast, of course.”
Sarah nodded, taking over the sandwiches.
Barbara was back in a moment, carrying more sandwiches covered with plastic wrap. “We’re glad to have you here, for sure. Emma is not getting any younger.”
“None of us are,” Leah said quickly, as if afraid Barbara had offended Sarah by her comment.
“Ja, but Emma has started to forget things,” Barbara went on, undeterred.
Sarah took a moment to smooth out a ruffle of annoyance. Barbara was obviously one of those people who said everything that came into her mind. But was that really what people were thinking?
“I’m sure things will be better now that I’m here. My aunt has just been a little overworked.”
“Ja, that must be it,” Leah said, before Barbara could speak. “Barbara, did you bring this pickle relish? It looks wonderful gut.”
“Ja, that is mine.” Barbara’s round face beamed. “I brought a chocolate cake with peanut-butter icing, too. Your kinder love that cake, I know.”
“You have other children, besides little Rachel?” Sarah asked, relieved to have the conversation off her aunt.
“Three older ones. Stepchildren, but just as dear as if I carried them.” Leah drew a young girl close to her. “This is Elizabeth, my older daughter. The two boys are supposed to be near the porch, ready to carry trays out, unless they’ve been distracted by their friends.”
Elizabeth leaned her head against Leah’s shoulder, her affection showing. “I will check on them, Mammi. Should I take Rachel with me?”
“Ja, gut.” Leah detached the little girl’s fingers from her apron and gave her a gentle shove. “Go with Elizabeth now. Go and find your bruders.”
Sarah watched them go, smiling at the obvious love between them. “Little Rachel is fortunate to have such a caring big sister.”
“Like I did,” Anna said, glancing up from cutting a cake. “Although there were times when I didn’t know how fortunate I was.”
“We are all foolish when we are eighteen,” Leah said, with a gentle smile for her younger sister.
“I left for a while,” Anna said in explanation. “Like so many, I thought I’d find my heart’s desire in the Englisch world. And all the while it was waiting here for me.”
“Ach, you probably wouldn’t have appreciated your Samuel near as much at eighteen,” Barbara said. “He is one of the quiet ones. Like Aaron Miller.” She darted a questioning look at Sarah. “You were talking with him, I see.”
Sarah added curiosity to Barbara’s ability to say things others wouldn’t. “He was just asking about starting work tomorrow. Aaron will be finishing the carpentry on the birthing rooms for us.”