A Time for Peace (3 page)

She'd never thought she'd walk again or talk normally and never, ever, in her wildest dreams, had she thought that Matthew could see past her battered body and failure to believe in herself or God or anything and want to marry her.

But here she was, married to this big, blond, gentle giant of a man. As if he felt her thinking about him, he stirred in his sleep and gathered her closer, cupping her head and pressing it against his chest, so that she finally fell asleep listening the slow, steady beat of his heart.

Someone was patting her arm. She opened her eyes and saw that Annie was standing beside the bed.

"Time to get up," she said brightly.

"Wha—what time is it?" Jenny asked. She glanced at the clock beside the bed and groaned. "Oh, Annie, go back to bed.

It's too early to get up."

Annie gave her a winsome smile, one that showed two missing teeth. "Let's go get Phoebe before I go to
schul."

Jenny pulled the quilt up over her head. It was too early to be up, even for the Amish. She nudged Matthew with her elbow. "Matthew? Tell our daughter to go back to bed."

"Annie, go back to bed," he mumbled and rolled over.

There was a tug on the quilt. Jenny lowered it. Annie still stood beside the bed but this time, Jenny saw the tears in her eyes.

She moved a little closer to Matthew then lifted the covers so that Annie could climb into bed.

"Ssh," she whispered when Annie started to speak. "Go back to sleep and we'll talk later."

To her surprise, Annie did so and after a few minutes, Jenny fell asleep again. She woke when Matthew climbed out of bed and dressed for the day.

Leaving Annie to sleep a little while longer, Jenny slipped out of bed and dressed, then headed downstairs to fix breakfast.

Matthew was standing at the stove, watching the percolator sitting atop it, his cup in his hand. She smiled. He could wait for breakfast until after chores, but he had to have that first cup of coffee before he went to work.

She walked up behind him, wrapped her arms around his waist, and laid her cheek against his back. "Love you."

"Love you, too."

"But you're looking at the coffee, not at me."

He turned and grinned at her as he slipped his arms around her waist. "Sorry. That doesn't mean I love it more."

"Sure," she said. "Sure."

Bending, he kissed her. "I didn't have my arms around coffee last night."

She returned his grin. "You're right."

"And I'm making you tea," he said as the teapot began whistling.

Reaching around him, she moved it and the whistling wound down to a sputter. "Thanks. Now, if we're quiet, we might get to have a few minutes before the children come down."

They sat at the table and enjoyed their jolt of caffeine, a morning routine for them.

Halfway through her tea, Jenny pressed her hand to her abdomen and winced. Getting up from the table, she rummaged in a kitchen cupboard for some Midol and washed it down with her tea.

When she sat down again, Matthew took her hand and squeezed it, giving comfort without words.

Another month without getting pregnant, she couldn't help thinking.

Feet hit the floor overhead and then moved around. Mary was up. Then the same thing happened in a different area of the upstairs. Joshua was up, too. No footsteps came from Jenny and Matthew's room. Annie had yet to wake.

Jenny chided herself for feeling a little depressed that she was once again not pregnant. She didn't need to be Amish to feel that children were a gift from God; wanting more than these precious three Matthew was sharing with her seemed greedy. He told her often that it was God's will if they had more and she believed that. She truly did.

It was just that she had these moments of disappointment thinking that she and God weren't on the same page. So to speak. But was He listening to her?

"As soon as I finish the chores and clean up, we'll go get Phoebe at the hospital," Matthew told her.

"I could go by myself—"

"No, we'll go together," he said firmly. "She's family."

Reaching out, she pulled him closer by his suspender and kissed him. "Thanks."

Mary came into the room a few minutes later. "Annie wasn't in my bed when I woke up and she's not in her room."

"It's okay. She's in my bed," Jenny told her. "She got up really early and wanted to go get
Grossmudder
before school."

Mary's face brightened. "Can we?"

"No, sweetheart." She hated the way Mary's face fell. "But she'll be here when you come home."

"Okay. Do you want me to go get Annie?"

Jenny smiled. "That would be wonderful. And for that, you get to choose what we'll have for breakfast."

Mary thought for a moment. "French toast?"

"French toast it is." Jenny got a skillet out, set it on the stove, and rummaged in a drawer for a spatula.

Mary passed Joshua as he walked into the room, rubbing his eyes.

"You snooze, you lose," she told him smugly.

"Huh?" He looked from her to Jenny.

"Early bird gets the worm," she said and walked out of the room.

"We're having worms for breakfast?" he asked, making a disgusted face.

"Your
mamm
would never make you worms for breakfast," Matthew chided, finishing his coffee and setting the cup in the sink.

"You never know what she might make," Joshua told him."You remember she made scrapple." He grabbed his throat and made a gagging noise as he started for the door." How can anyone eat that with what's in it?"

"Some people like scrapple," Matthew pointed out.

"You think you're so funny with the comments about my cooking!" Jenny popped him on the fanny with the spatula.

"Hey, ow!" he cried. "She hit me!" he told his father.

Matthew shook his head and tried to suppress a grin. "A wise man always compliments the cook."

"Right!" Jenny said. Then she frowned. "Wait a minute, that sounds like a backhanded kind of comment. Are you saying you compliment my cooking even when you don't think it's good?"

Matthew cocked his head. "Did you hear that?" he asked Joshua.

Joshua listened hard. "I don't hear anything."

"There it is again. Bessie's calling for us. Back soon," he said quickly and the two of them rushed out the door.

"Very funny," Jenny muttered. "Like a cow's calling you!"

"I tried to call you," Phoebe said when Jenny and Matthew walked into her hospital room. "They're insisting on keeping me another day."

"Another day? But why?"

"Just more tests. You know how doctors love to run more tests."

"What kind of tests?"

"Just the usual stuff," Phoebe said vaguely. "You get older, they want to do more tests."

Jenny sank into a chair beside the bed. "Now you're getting me worried. Since when would you meekly agree to these? I expected you to be waiting at the front door when we arrived, impatient to be out of here."

She studied her grandmother, feeling that something wasn't being said, that more was going on here than—

An aide knocked on the doorframe. "Ready to go?"

Phoebe nodded. She lifted the covers and her feet emerged, covered with bright red crocheted footies. When she saw Jenny staring at them, she laughed. "The nurse on duty last night gave them to me. A friend of hers makes them for patients.They kept my feet nice and cozy."

"How about we bring you some of your own things this afternoon? Since you have to spend another night."

Jenny felt her heart warm at Matthew's suggestion. "Maybe your robe?" she suggested, smiling at the way her grandmother wore a second gown with the ties in the front, covering the one underneath that she would have felt immodest to leave the room in.

As always, Phoebe wore her
kapp
over her perfectly groomed hair.

The aide rolled the wheelchair closer to the bed and Phoebe sat in it and watched him adjust the footrests for her. Then he picked up the blanket from the foot of the bed and tucked it around her. "It can be a bit cold where we're going."

Jenny wanted to ask where that was but Matthew took her hand and squeezed it and when she glanced at him, he sent her a silent message that husbands and wives quickly learned to interpret after their wedding. This one said, "Leave it alone.Please."

Even though his look wasn't one of censure, she wanted to object, to say that she had a right as a granddaughter to ask where they were going, what tests the aide was taking Phoebe for. It wasn't nosiness, it was simply concern. If something was wrong, she wanted to know so she could do something.
Something.

And then the sobering thought came that if there was something wrong that there was nothing she really could do about it . . . it was all up to God.

The aide pushed the chair toward them and then stopped, sensitive to Jenny's mood.

Jenny bent and hugged Phoebe and noted that her grandmother's arms felt as strong as ever. Drawing back, she forced a smile.

"I'm not going to worry," she said. "Because—because you always say that worrying is arrogant. God knows what He's doing."

Phoebe beamed. "Exactly. I'll be back home before you know it."

Matthew kissed her cheek. "See you later."

They stood and watched as the aide pushed Phoebe out of the room and then Jenny turned to Matthew.

"What was that about, that stopping me when I wanted to ask about the tests?"

Matthew touched her shoulders and his eyes were kind. "She's your grandmother but I've known Phoebe for a long time and she's a very private person. If there's something she wants to tell you, she will. And if she doesn't, you need to respect her privacy."

"But if she's seriously sick—"

"We must respect her wishes,
lieb."

"Don't try to distract me by calling me 'love,' " she told him, trying not to pout.

His lips twitched. "I wouldn't dream of it." Then he sobered."I'm not saying that if her health were to change seriously that I don't agree with you about talking with her about it," he told her. "But I feel she'll talk to us if things change."

Jenny nodded and sighed. "Well, let's go on home, then.Maybe the children will want to come when we bring Phoebe some of her things."

"I think if we try to leave them home we'll never hear the end of it," he said with a chuckle as they left the room.

I
t's driving you crazy, isn't it?"

Jenny frowned at Hannah. "It's not funny."

Hannah sighed and reached for Jenny's hand. "No, it's not. I don't know why Phoebe's being so secretive, either."

"You didn't know she was taking prescription medicine?"

Leaning back in her chair, Hannah began rubbing her abdomen, a habit Jenny had noticed.

"I really didn't," Hannah told her. "I've been concerned by how hard it was on her to climb the stairs here at the house but she kept saying she was fine. Then Chris and I got married and she insisted we should have her bedroom upstairs so that solved that."

She looked around the room and her smile was soft. "You know, sometimes it seems like a dream. Everything that's happened, I mean. Did you feel that way when you first married Matthew?"

Jenny smiled. "Yeah. Sometimes I still do. Especially when I look at the children. It already felt like a miracle that Matthew and I got a second chance but to have a ready-made family.Well, I still find myself thinking I should pinch myself."

"I was remembering this conversation we had not long after I met you," Hannah said. "I thought I wouldn't ever get married.You said I should make a wish list of what I wanted in a man."

She glanced at Jenny and grinned. "A wish list for a man. Imagine, I thought. What's funny is after I did that, I realized I wanted a man much like my brother."

"You couldn't do better," Jenny said with a smile. "It's so good to see the two of you so happy. You deserve it. And Chris surely does after all he went through in the military."

She watched Hannah unconsciously rub at her arm. "Is it hurting?"

Hannah glanced down at her arm. "Talking about Chris and all he went through being injured overseas probably made me think of it. Who'd have thought someone could hate him so much and come here to hurt him."

"And hurt you in the process."

Hannah shrugged. "That's all over now. Look at how well things turned out. Last time I saw Malcolm—"

Someone knocked at the front door. Hannah started to heave herself up out of the chair but Jenny rose and pressed her back into it.

"I'll get it. You stay and relax."

Rebecca Yoder stood on the front porch. "I'm on my way into town but I just had to stop. I heard that Phoebe was taken to the hospital. Is she okay?"

Jenny filled her in and the woman impulsively hugged her. "I'm sure she'll be fine. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"If you could make some calls and let her friends know."

"I surely will. Now don't you go worrying. Phoebe's a strong woman. I'm sure she'll be home before you know it."

Touched by the older woman's caring, Jenny walked back to the kitchen.

Her sister-in-law was doubled over as if she were in pain. Jenny rushed to her side.

"Hannah? What's wrong? Tell me you're not going into labor."

Hannah shook her head. "No," she managed to say. "It's too soon."

"Like babies ever do what they're supposed to do. You remember how Fannie Mae went into labor at the quilting two weeks ago. She thought she was just having back pain and she'd been in labor most of the day."

"I'm—I'm not in labor. Pain—" she pressed a hand just under her bust. "Feels like the baby's got his foot stuck—up under—under my ribs."

Truly alarmed by now, Jenny knelt beside Hannah's chair. "That's not possible, is it? I mean, it's in the uterus and—"

"I don't need a biology lesson right now," Hannah snapped.

Then, just as quickly, she turned and gave Jenny a look of remorse. "Oh, I'm sorry!"

Jenny patted her arm. "It's okay. Is it any better?"

Hannah grabbed Jenny's hand, pressed it to her abdomen, and held it there. "Here, feel this! Doesn't it feel like it's going to kick its way out?"

The minute Hannah held her hand to her abdomen, Jenny felt the moving lump kick. She jerked her hand away and stared, shocked, at Hannah. "Wow!"

"Hurts!" Hannah gasped.

"I think we better call the doctor."

Hannah shifted in her chair and frowned. "I'm sure it'll stop in a minute." Then she looked at Jenny. "What?"

"Has this happened before?"

"No. Really," she insisted when Jenny looked doubtful. "Trust me, I'd have told you if something like this had happened."

"I dunno," Jenny muttered. "One family member's already kept a secret from me."

"Well, I have no secrets. Well, except for telling everyone the sex of the baby. But Chris and I agreed we don't want to know so how can I tell anyone what I don't know?"

Jenny watched as Hannah broke out in a sweat. She went to the sink, dampened a dish towel with cool water, and wiped Hannah's face with it.

"That feels good."

"Where's Chris?"

"Out in the field."

"Let me go ring the bell and call him in."

"No! I don't want to worry him."

"Too bad," Jenny told her and started for the door. "You're scaring me."

Jenny rang the dinner bell, hoping Chris would hurry in, wondering why she was using the bell when it wasn't time for a meal. Sure enough, he came running up.

"What's wrong? Is it Hannah? Is she in labor?" he asked, panting.

"She says she isn't but the baby's doing something that's hurting her. I think she needs to go to the doctor."

Hannah was grimacing in pain as she bent over the table when they rushed into the kitchen. Chris grasped her by the arms and held her against his body. "Baby, are you okay?"

"This little monster's kicking me up under my ribs," she told him, sounding breathless.

"It can't kick its way out, can it?" Chris turned to ask Jenny.

She pressed her fingers to her mouth, trying not to laugh at his naiveté, and shook her head. "I never heard of such a thing."

Then, to their horror, Hannah slumped against Chris. "Ow!" she cried. "That hurt!" She looked at Jenny. "Is this how bad it's going to hurt when it comes out?"

"How would I know? I've never had a baby, remember?" But Jenny had heard horror stories of hours,
days,
of labor, of excruciating pain.

Hannah glanced at Chris and he gave her a disbelieving look. "Don't look at me! How would I know? Listen, I think we better get you to the doctor."

"I don't want to go. I don't want them to make the baby come out before it's time. Maybe if I just lie down for a few minutes it'll stop."

Chris glanced at Jenny and she lifted her hands and then let them fall to her sides. "Let's let her lie down on the sofa and you call her doctor."

Nodding, he lifted Hannah into his arms and carried her into the living room and gently laid her on the sofa. Carefully, he tucked a sofa pillow behind her and bent over her to take her hand. "Any better?"

Jenny stood beside Chris and saw that tears were leaking from the corners of Hannah's eyes and she'd lost even more color in her face.

"I'll stay with her while you go call the doctor," she said quietly. "Here, it's the doctor's card she keeps on the refrigerator."

Chris nodded. He kissed Hannah's cheek and hurried to the phone shanty.

"He looks terrified." Hannah said, sighing. "I never thought I'd see him this way. I mean, he was a soldier in war and even after he came home he had a gun shoved in his face by the man who followed him here to hurt him."

Jenny drew a chair over to sit closer to Hannah. "I have to agree with you." She glanced at the door, then back at Hannah." Wonder how he's going to be in the delivery room?"

The front door opened and shut and Matthew rushed into the room. "Why did you ring the dinner bell—" he stopped as he took in the sight of Hannah lying on the sofa. "What's this about? You in labor?"

Hannah rolled her eyes at her brother. "No, the baby's got its foot up under my ribs. Chris is calling the doctor."

The door opened and slammed. "The doctor said to bring you in," Chris said tersely. "I called a driver. He said he can be here in ten minutes." He sighed as he put his hands on his hips and stared at Hannah. "If I had my Mustang I could be taking you there right now."

"I'm not getting up on some horse," Hannah snapped, rubbing her hand over her abdomen.

He stared at her for a long moment and then he laughed. "It's a car, sweetheart. A Mustang's a sports car."

"Oh." She held out her hand. "Can you help me get up? Otherwise I'm going to need a crane."

"You stay right there while I get your bag."

"I don't need it!" she said but he was already out of the room and they could hear him taking the stairs two at a time.

"Anything I can do?" Matthew asked Hannah.

"Why don't you go see if you can calm Chris down," she suggested.

"I can do that."

Jenny waited until Matthew was out of the room. "How was he when Amelia had the children?"

"He was a rock when it came to having a
boppli,"
Hannah told her, grimacing as she tried to get more comfortable. "At least, that's what Amelia told me."

Good information to have for the future, Jenny thought.
If
ever she conceived.

Chris and Matthew returned minus the suitcase Hannah had packed for when she went to the hospital to deliver.

"I convinced Chris that he doesn't need to take the bag," Matthew said. "If the
boppli
decides to come, we can bring it later."

A horn honked.

"There's our ride," Chris said. "Let's hustle."

Hannah held out her hand but instead of taking it, Chris lifted her easily and started for the door.

"Oh, my purse!" she cried. "Jenny, my purse!"

"You don't need it," Chris told her but when she held out her hands, blocking them from passing through the front doorway, he stopped and sighed. "What is it with women and their purses?"

Matthew turned to Jenny. "Better go get it."

Jenny ran for the purse and passed it to Hannah. "Let us know what the doctor says. Matthew has his cell phone."

"Tell Phoebe I'll see her later."

"Phoebe!" Jenny looked at Matthew. "I have to get her a robe and some things." She pressed her hands to her cheeks. "Oh, my, what excitement we've had around here the past two days."

"Why don't you go take care of that and I'll round up someone to look after the
kinner
while we go see Phoebe?"

"It was good of Rebecca to come over and watch out for the
kinner,"
Matthew said as they pulled out onto the road in their buggy.

"Mmm," Jenny said.

Matthew glanced at Jenny. She seemed lost in thought.

He had an idea of where those thoughts were centered. She didn't know, couldn't know, that he'd heard her ask his sister how he'd been when he and his first wife had had their
kinner.

He knew it wasn't about Amelia . . . that Jenny felt she came second to her in any way. She was just curious about how he cared for a wife when she was in need. He carried a sense of guilt that he hadn't shown Jenny how he could care for her in a time of need, truly care for her. He hadn't accompanied her to the hospital when she'd had to have the additional surgery for her injuries from the bombing after they'd become engaged.

Then, too, after the buggy accident she'd been involved in, he'd frozen when they got to the hospital and the place reminded him of those last tragic months of taking Amelia there for chemo.

Since they'd been married, he'd tried to show Jenny that he not only loved her but that he could be a support to her as well. He had to measure up this time. He had to—what was that
Englisch
term he'd heard used once to describe it?
Be there.

"Why don't you come over here?" he asked, patting the seat next to him.

She smiled and slid over.

"Closer," he said, sliding his arm around her and drawing her against him. "A lot going on,
ya?"

"
Ya,"
she said fervently. She leaned her head against his shoulder.

"Talk to me, Jenny. Tell me what's upsetting you so much about Phoebe being in the hospital."

"Beside the fact that she won't tell me what's wrong? That's not enough?"

"You have a vivid imagination and you know a lot," he said calmly. "I think you're imagining the worst."

She sighed. "I know. It's hard not to."

When he pulled the buggy over to the side of the road, she glanced at him. "What are you doing?"

Once he had the buggy safely off the asphalt, he turned to her and took her hands in his. "I know you lost your mother and your father. But that doesn't mean that you're going to lose Phoebe. Not yet."

"It's easier for you to accept God's will." Jenny closed her eyes, then opened them.

He raised his brows. "Really?"

She nodded. "It's such a part of your belief, your culture. But it's still hard for me."

"Do you think I easily accepted the news that Amelia was ill?"

"I—no . . . I don't know. I wasn't here." But she stared at him, trying to feel out why he was asking her this. "How
did
you feel?"

"Like anyone would if they were told that a part of them was being ripped away," he said quietly. "Being Amish doesn't mean that I don't care as deeply or feel as angry as any other man that someone I love is going to be taken away too soon. I don't care any less or have any special ability to be so spiritual that I can just say, 'Okay, it's God's will.' "