A Simple Charity (35 page)

In the early hours of the morning, they succeeded in rotating the baby.

“Good,” Fanny said, stroking back Kat’s damp hair. “It will be much easier for you now.”

“Let’s try to keep you leaning forward,” Meg advised. “We don’t want the baby to revert to its original position.” She checked the fetal heart tones with every contraction, assuring Kat that the baby was descending quickly now.

With the baby turned, Kat’s labor moved more rapidly. Everyone breathed a sigh of gratitude when a baby girl was delivered at 5:04
A.M.

While Fanny tended to Kat, Meg saw that the baby needed resuscitation.
Secondary apnea
, she thought as adrenaline shot through her. Instantly awake and alert, she grabbed the bulb syringe and oxygen tank, as well as towels that had been warming on the woodstove.

“Come on now,” Meg cooed to the baby as she rubbed her back. “You’re here at last, and we’re going to keep you safe and warm. And your mom is eager to meet you, baby girl.” She could feel Fanny and Kat watching in wary silence.

After a few minutes that seemed like an eternity, the baby gave a
squall and the heartbeat was on pace. Her color was good and she became active. “That’s what I was looking for.” Meg soothed the tiny baby swaddled in a warm towel and blanket. “That’s right. All pinked up. That’s it, sweetie.”

“Thank the Almighty, she’s awake at last,” Fanny said with a sigh.

Meg went to release Jack from his kitchen confinement, but he was already on his feet. “You got a baby out there? All good?”

“It’s all good.” Lulled by relief and pleasure, Meg took him by the hand and led him out to meet his new niece.

As sunlight touched the winter sky, casting a silvery glow over the frozen landscape, they sat around Kat’s cot, sharing coffee and hot rolls that Elsie had baked in the house. Kat was treated to a tray of scrambled eggs, sausage, rolls, and canned peaches—a true feast!—which Fanny insisted any new mother had earned. Meg smiled as Kat dug in with enthusiasm, finishing every scrap while she admired the infant sleeping in Jack’s arms.

“You know how you couldn’t think of a Christmas gift for me?” Jack told Meg. “You’re off the hook now. You just delivered the perfect gift. Because I am in love with this baby girl.”

“She is amazing,” Meg agreed.

“Remember that feeling when it’s time for you guys to babysit,” Kat teased them.

It was a wonder, the sight of Jack with the baby. For a thirty-one-year-old bachelor, a man who’d been eager to run from his laboring sister, Jack was very much at home with an infant in his arms. The copacetic image reminded Meg of the prickly news she had yet to deliver to him. She vowed to tell him about her medical issue. She would tell him this week—but not today.

Today was bright with celebration, with new life and newly forged bonds and glittering snow confetti beyond the window of the former carriage house.

Jack had sent a text to Kat’s husband, and now he was able to connect to Brendan so that Kat could do a video chat.

“Hey, there, Daddy,” Kat said, levering the phone so that Brendan could see the rosebud mouth of the baby in her arms. “Meet your little girl. Baby Abigail.”

29

H
umming a song, Fanny traipsed through the backyard, grateful for the dawning light that turned the sky pearl gray. In one hand she held the wooden platform of the birdhouse, which she had just scrubbed clean with disinfectant. In the other was a sack of seed, which needed to be added daily. It was a chore that the children often forgot to do, but Fanny didn’t mind. Local birds had discovered the new birdhouse quickly, and the small effort of putting out sunflower seeds and millet was worth the joy of glancing out the kitchen window to see mourning doves, chickadees, titmice, and dark-eyed juncos land in the little house.

Fanny found joy in the routine of small chores and simple pleasures. The pleasure of clean clothes at the end of wash day. The savory smell of a warm stew bubbling on the stove. A cozy night spent with the family, heads bent over a jigsaw puzzle, fingers working pieces to find the right fit. Whenever she longed for Zed or worried about what some of the other women thought of her, she
had only to turn to the task at hand, the child at her side, the adult child telling her a story of their day. Family was the meat and potatoes of a good Amish life, and she thanked Gott for blessing her with a full plate.

She slid the platform into the base of the birdhouse, reached into the sack, and scattered seed inside the miniature carriage house. What a lovely gift it had been, a way to feed Gott’s creatures and enjoy nature in their own backyard.

A daily reminder of Zed’s fine building skills.

Despite her shame, she had not been able to push him from her thoughts these past few weeks. She found herself wondering about him throughout each day. Did he still wear the gloves she had given him? What was his new daily schedule? Was he enjoying his work for Tim Ebersol? Did he think of her, too?

He had told her that he wouldn’t give up on her—a promise branded deep in her memory, but not a practical one. It was obvious that there was a lot of matchmaking going on. Fanny was sickened at the prospect of Zed being pushed toward other women, but as there was nothing she could do to stop it, she had to let it go … 
geh lessa
.

She brushed off her gloved hands and lifted the seed sack. “There you go, little birds,” she called, though there were none in sight. She had no doubt they’d be congregating by breakfast, when Will would be at the window, helping his sister tell the difference between a goldfinch and a titmouse. This birdhouse had engaged the whole family, sending Caleb and Elsie paging through Tom’s old birding guide.

She stomped her boots on the mat in the mudroom, and stowed the seed in the cupboard. Off came the boots and gloves, and her jacket went on a hook by the door. A cloud of warm air greeted her when she opened the kitchen door, and her two girls smiled up at her from the kitchen table, their faces tipped up like sunflowers.

“Elsie made my favorite oatmeal,” Beth said. “No raisins.” Little Beth was at the stage where she didn’t like raisins or nuts inside things.

“There’s more on the stove,” Elsie offered.

“That sounds good.” Fanny gave a playful tug on Beth’s braid, then glanced up at the kitchen calendar. January was passing slow as molasses, but maybe that was because the anniversary of Tom’s death was approaching. Odd to mark someone’s passing, but Fanny had begun to look at it as a day that the family could remember Tom and remind the children of the love and light their father had brought to the family.

With a bowl of oatmeal in hand, Fanny joined the girls and listened as Elsie talked of how much of the shop’s inventory had sold out over Christmas. She had already spoken to some of the women who supplied Amish crafts for the stores. “Over the holidays we sold out of cloth dolls and lavender soap,” Elsie said. “Some of our shelves are bare.”

Beth finished and hopped down from her chair.

“Put your bowl in the sink and go get dressed,” Fanny prompted gently.

With a cloth doll tucked under one arm, Beth cleared away her bowl and skated across the kitchen floor in her slipper socks.

“Such a dreamer, that one,” Fanny said, gazing up at the calendar once more. In eight days, it would be one year. Tom’s seat at the head of the table still remained empty during meals, and no one was in a rush to change that.

“I see you looking at the calendar, every time you pass,” Elsie said.

“Do I do that?” Fanny dared to meet Elsie’s eyes, and was warmed by the glimmer of sympathy there. “Ya, I’m always checking now.”

“January. I thought I never wanted to see this month come again,
but now that it’s here …” Elsie shrugged. “It’s not so bad. I forgot how cozy the winter months could be. It’s fun to take the children out in the snow, sledding and ice-skating. And the best part of the cold is warming up by the fire with hot cocoa and the little ones.”

“You always do see the sunny side of things.” Fanny dragged a golden streak of melted brown sugar across her oatmeal. It was delicious, but sorrow made her appetite sag. “I have dreaded this month and the memories it brings. Gott has healed us in many ways, but we will always miss your father.”

Elsie nodded. “So many memories of Dat linger.”

His loss had created a hole in the world that had seemed impossible to fill, a hole that Fanny had found herself jumping over constantly. In the first few months, she had winced when she made Tom’s side of the bed each morning or passed his empty place at the head of the table. But Gott eased the pain, day by day.

“We’ll never understand why Gott took him,” Fanny said softly. “All we can do is thank Gott that we have family to fill our days with joy and challenge.” The little ones kept her busy and amused while the older ones constantly took little Tommy from her arms for a diaper change or a snuggle.

“The day of the accident, Dat told me some things I’ll never forget.” Elsie cupped her coffee mug in two hands. “We were standing outside the Reading Terminal Market, and I wanted to talk about my big plans for the shop, but Dat kept pulling the conversation back to talk of marriage. He so wanted me to marry and have children.”

“It’s what every father wants for his children.”

Elsie took a sip from her mug and gazed off with a tender smile. “I never told anyone, but I had given up on ever marrying. I was afraid to have children, so I bowed out of every singing. I always had a reason to miss the youth events. Dat knew that.”

“Thomas didn’t miss much,” Fanny agreed. Although Fanny
hadn’t discussed it with Tom, she had always worried about Elsie finding a man who would love her, on account of Elsie looking different from other girls, being a little person.

“Dat was so sure that a fella would come courting. ‘Just give it a chance,’ he told me.” Elsie shook her head. “I had no plans of doing that, but Dat was certain a young man would fall for my sunny disposition if I just gave it a chance. He was positive someone would see past the ways I’m different. He believed I would be having my own family one day. Standing there, outside the market, I looked up at him, so sure that he was wrong.” Tears glimmered in Elsie’s eyes. “It turned out, Dat knew what he was talking about.”