Abigail's New Hope (5 page)

“Aunt Iris,” he called, lifting the baby carrier from the hired van. “I’m very glad to see you.” The bishop had thoughtfully arranged for a car and driver to bring them home from the hospital.

The middle-aged woman hurried down the steps to meet them. “
Guder nachmittag
, Nathan,” she greeted as she peered into the carrier with one hand fisted at her throat. “Welcome home, little Abraham,” she said as she peeled back the blue fleece blanket the hospital had provided.

“I have formula, bottles, and diapers, plus whatever else they packed up for me.” Nathan looked into his aunt’s face, hoping he didn’t sound as desperate as he felt.

“With all the diapers and clothing your wife sewed and everything folks in the district dropped off, I would say your son will be set for some time to come. Why don’t I take him inside and check his diaper while you carry in the remainder?” She barely waited for a nod of agreement before she took the baby carrier and marched toward the house. As Nathan watched her go, a tremendous wave of relief washed over him.

How would I have managed without her?
It was hard enough to face each day without his Ruth, but an Amish man is sorely prepared to care for a
boppli
. “
Danki
, Lord God,” he whispered, “
Danki
.” He unloaded the boxes and bags from the van and then reached for his wallet.

“Oh, no, Mr. Fisher. The fare has already been paid by your bishop, including my tip. I’ll not take your money.” The driver offered his hand, which Nathan shook heartily.

“Thank you for bringing me…us…home.” Laden down with supplies, he walked toward the house as the driver hurried after him carrying the largest box of diapers ever made.

“I was mighty sorry to hear about your wife.”

Nathan couldn’t think of a suitable comment, so he kept walking with his eyes focused on what had been his home for the previous six months.

“Thanks again,” he said at the back door. After setting his load down, he pulled the box of diapers from the driver’s hands. Once the man had returned to his van and left, Nathan exhaled a sigh of relief and entered the back hall. His kitchen looked nothing like it had two nights ago. The floors, walls, and windows had been washed. Curtains he didn’t recognize wafted gently in the warm breeze, while jars of fruit, vegetables, soup, and pickled meats lined the countertop. He supposed Iris had left them out for him to see before packing them away into the cupboards, pantry, and the cellar. The generosity of his neighbors appeared to have no limits. He contemplated looking for Iris and the baby, but an unbearable weariness came over him. He slumped into a chair in the pristine room without enough energy to lift a finger.

Ten minutes later his aunt bustled into the room. “
Ach
, nephew. You look as though you could use a cup of coffee. You probably didn’t sleep a wink at the hospital.” She lit the propane burner under the pot. “I know I’d like a cup too.”

“
Danki
for coming, Aunt Iris. I am in your debt.”

“Nonsense. I’m happy to make myself useful. Because my three daughters-in-law turned out to be industrious, I rattle around in the
dawdi
haus
all day without enough to do.” She winked one of her cornflower blue eyes. “Except when the garden produce comes in or on quilting days, there’s not enough work for four women. One of my sons moved me into your guest room, so I will stay as long as you and little Abraham need me.” She poured two mugs of coffee and carried them to the table.

“That could be a long while,” he said softly, wrapping his fingers around a mug.

“Then so be it. I’ll enjoy taking caring of your son, Nathan. My youngest
kinskinner
will start school in the fall, so the house will seem empty. Babies are such a blessing.” She stirred two teaspoonfuls of sugar into her coffee.

He slanted her a wry glance, not feeling particularly blessed at the moment.

“They are, nephew. You’re in mourning now; that is normal. But someday you’ll see what a joy your son is. He’s a living reminder of your wife, and she will go on through him.”

He stared down at the oak tabletop and held his tongue, fearing he’d say something he’d later regret.

“This was the Lord’s will.” Her voice sounded soft and gentle.

“I know, and I accept the will of God.” He tried to relax his fingers, which had curled into fists.

Iris waited to see if he would say more, but he remained quiet. “What’s in your heart?” she asked. “Maybe talking to me would help.”

“Yammering about stuff endlessly is the English way, not our way.” He sipped his coffee, gripping the mug tight enough to crack porcelain.

“True enough, but holding in anger will eat a hole in an Amish stomach just as easily as an
Englischer
’s. Do you hold the midwife responsible? Is she the one you are mad at?” She studied him over the rim of her cup.

Her question caught him off guard. “Mrs. Graber? No, she’s not to blame. She tried her best and did everything she could to save Ruth.” Nathan focused on a freshly washed wall, noticing that the calendar displayed the wrong month. He waited, hoping his aunt would change the subject or offer another option besides the truth. But she sat patiently. After a few moments, he met her gaze. “I’m the one to blame. It’s my fault Ruth is gone.”

“Your fault? Oh, no, it couldn’t possibly be—”

He held up a hand to stem her interruption. “Now that you asked, hear me out. Since the day Ruth and I married, I always said things like ‘I can’t wait until the
bopplin
start coming,’ and ‘I hope we end up with six girls for you and a half dozen boys for me.’” He grimaced remembering the joyous look on Ruth’s face whenever they talked about a large family.

“That was just chatter, Nathan. All couples are filled with big plans and expectations.”

“But she knew how much I wanted children, and…I pushed her to see a doctor when things didn’t…happen for us right away.”

Iris walked to the stove for the coffeepot, mitigating his discomfort from discussing a delicate topic.

“Ruth had found a lady doctor a couple towns away, so I drove her back and forth several times so she could run tests and whatnot. She even wanted to admit Ruth overnight once, but she refused. Ruth was afraid of hospitals. She didn’t talk much about those appointments, but that was just her way—she didn’t talk a whole lot about anything.”

Iris nodded, her lips stretched to a thin line.

Nathan drew in a deep breath before continuing. “I thought the doctor would give her advice on how to…hurry things along.” His breath caught, but he fought down the lump that had risen in his throat. “But that doctor told her she shouldn’t
ever
get pregnant. That having a baby could jeopardize her life and probably cost the
boppli
’s life as well.” His voice broke as emotion welled up against his resolve. “That’s what the doctors had told her, but she didn’t tell me any of this until afterward.”

He lurched to his feet and stumbled to the sink. With the memory of that conversation, his feelings of helplessness and regret flooded back. He stared out the window at fields turning the color of lavender as the sun dropped below the western hills.

“When did your wife finally tell you?”

“After she was already carrying our child.” He gripped the edge of the counter so hard his fingers began to cramp. “I would have said forget about
boppli
or we can adopt a child from somewhere. I never would have wanted her to take a chance with her life.”

Silently, Iris crept up behind him and patted his back as though he were a child with a broken toy. “Of course you wouldn’t have. And that’s all the more reason why you can’t hold yourself responsible any more than Abby Graber. You didn’t know what the doctor had told her until she was already in a family way.”

Nathan stared out the window as the evening star rose low in the sky. “She did this for me, Aunt. She sacrificed herself to make me happy.”

“She did this because she wanted to have a child. She was willing to take a chance. After all, doctors don’t know everything. Only God ultimately decides our fate. We all live and die by His hand.”

“I know that, but I just wished she had asked my opinion about the risk. I would have told her that
she
was enough for me. Even without
kinner
we could have had a good life together. I loved her. I loved her so much.”

Iris patted his back once more but said nothing. What more was there to say? They could discuss the matter like
Englischers
until the rooster crowed tomorrow, but it wouldn’t change a thing.

“Come to your bedroom and see your son. He fell asleep almost the moment I laid him down in the cradle. It was as though he knew that cradle had been carved by his
daed
and the tiny quilt sewed by his
mamm
.”

Nathan felt his back turn rigid under the palm of Iris’ hand. “
My
bedroom? Why is his bed still in my bedroom? I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but you’ll be the one feeding and changing him and such. Don’t you think the cradle should be next to your bed instead of mine?”

Iris walked around the table to set her mug in the sink. “That’s where I found the cradle, so that’s where I put him to sleep.” Her voice was little more than a whisper.

“When he wakes up, I’ll move his bed into your room.” Nathan straightened his back and unclenched his hands, willing himself to relax.

“Why don’t we go in there now? You could see him and we can move the bed together. I doubt that he’ll awaken, but if he does it’s almost time for his next feeding.”

“No,” said Nathan without hesitation. “I saw what he looked like at the hospital. He hasn’t changed in the last six hours. I have animals to tend to in the barn. I can’t expect my friends and neighbors to do my chores forever. They have enough work of their own.” He strode to the door, and then he glanced over his shoulder at his tiny, gray-haired aunt, who couldn’t weigh more than a hundred pounds. “
Danki
for the coffee. And I’m obliged to you for also cleaning this place up. I know we left the house in a terrible state that night, and I apologize for that.”

Her face seemed to melt, and he thought she might cry. Nathan fled outside as though the house were on fire. He couldn’t bear her look of pity and didn’t want to be cajoled into standing around a cradle making cooing and clucking noises. Those were things that women did. Right now he wasn’t cut out to be somebody’s
daed
. How could he look into the sweet face of his son and not see his beloved Ruth staring back?

Tonight he would thank God for his aunt, who had been willing to leave her own family and move in with them. Having raised six children of her own, Iris Fisher knew all there was to know about
kinner
. Abraham would receive the tender loving care he deserved while Nathan could get back to work. If he was going to turn this place into a profitable farm again, it would take all of his energy and attention. A child was something he had desperately wanted with his wife, but now that Ruth was gone an infant became a confusing puzzle—like the first time he tried to use a cell phone. And he was sure he would never be able to look at that baby and not remember what she had given up for his sake.

Nathan hurried to the barn for evening chores. He cleaned stalls, spread fresh straw for bedding, scrubbed out water troughs and feed buckets, and groomed horses until it grew so dark he couldn’t see two feet in front of his face. He worked until his back muscles ached and his stomach growled from hunger. But at least when he returned to the house to wash off the dirt and sweat of hard labor the kitchen was empty. A low-burning kerosene lamp cast dancing shadows across the walls. His plate of dinner had been left on the table—four pieces of cold and dried out chicken, fried potatoes in a similar state, and a large serving of pickled beets. Iris had thoughtfully spooned the beets into a separate bowl so the juice didn’t stain the rest of his meal. But he could have easily overlooked red-tinted chicken as long as he didn’t have to talk to his aunt or anybody else about recent events.

Or about what he planned to do with the rest of his life.