Double Take (16 page)

On Wednesday morning, while cleaning up the breakfast dishes, Madison kept a close watch on the north field. After Daniel and his horse, with Jeremiah seated on top, were a long way out, she set down the dish towel and slipped out the door. She ran over to the barn, picked up the phone, and quickly dialed. When Anna didn’t answer, Madison wanted to scream. Instead she left a message.

“Anna, I’m getting worried. I think we need to switch back before Saturday after all. Something is happening here that makes me uncomfortable. If you get this message, make sure you keep your phone with you—and answer it. I’ll try to call you back this evening, after everyone is asleep. You better be there!” She hung up and hurried back to the house.

“Where were you?” Rachel asked as Madison came inside.

“Just getting some air.”

“
Ja
, it is nice out there.” Rachel rubbed her back and moaned. “Dis baby is restless.”

“Kicking again?”

“
Ja
,
ja
. Kicking and moving. Must be another boy.”

Madison smiled. “Girls can be restless too.”

“
Ja
,
ja
. Tell me about it.” She nodded over to where Elizabeth had pulled the pots and pans out onto the floor again. She was banging a wooden spoon on an overturned pot like she thought she was going to be the drummer in a rock band someday.

Rachel sighed as she sat down. “How is the dress coming?”

Madison grimaced. “Slowly.”

“Not done yet?”

“I had to rip something out.”

Rachel shook her head in disappointment. “Anna, Anna.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll fix it.”

“You bring it here for me to see.”

Madison went into the other room and opened the basket on top of the sewing machine cabinet, where she had stowed the sad little pieces of the dress. Not only was it not finished and messed up, now it was all wrinkled. She carried it into the kitchen and set it on the table in front of Rachel.

Rachel looked down at the mess and laughed. “Oh, Anna. You are not yourself.”

“I know.”

“Go get my sewing basket. We will work together.”

As Madison went back for the basket, she wished she’d paid better attention when Lucinda had tried to teach her to sew. She sat down across from Rachel at the table, and as Elizabeth banged pan lids together, the two women undid the bad seams of the little dress.

“You are making me wonder, Anna.”

“Wonder?” Madison kept her eyes downward.

“Do you act like this to make poor Aunt Rachel feel good?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know. This thing with your head . . . you cannot remember how to cook and clean and sew. Is it to make me feel better?”

Madison smiled. “No. I am not pretending to be bad at these things. I just am.”

Rachel shook her head. “It is very strange indeed.”

“Tell me about it.” Madison jumped when she stuck her finger with the seam ripper.

“Tell you about what?” Rachel looked even more perplexed.

But instead of explaining her vernacular faux pas or telling Rachel about anything, Madison listened as Rachel told story after story about how certain older women had made her life miserable. Nitpicking her sewing skills, criticizing her cooking, pointing out flaws in her children. Madison suspected this was Rachel’s way of warning her—that this is how it would go with her if she didn’t improve her domestic skills.

“Those women sound just plain mean,” Madison said finally.

“Dey say it is to help me.” Rachel sighed. “When I say I don’t want help, I am chastised. I am told I must repent. When I say I don’t want to repent, I am warned . . . I may be shunned someday.” She gave a small smile. “I do not mind that so much. Now the women do not trouble me. They stay away. I can do as I like.”

“Are you lonely?”

Rachel nodded. “
Ja
. Daniel is not pleased with me. He does not say much, but is he unhappy. I know this.”

Madison wished she had something encouraging to say, something to make this better. Mostly she felt sorry for Rachel—like this poor woman was caught in a horrible trap that she would never escape. Yet most of the time, Rachel seemed fairly happy. She loved her children. She didn’t complain about all the hard work. Maybe her house wasn’t as clean as her neighbors’, but it wasn’t that bad.

“Having you here, Anna, is like sunshine after the rain.” Rachel reached across the table and clasped Madison’s hand. “
Ja
, you are changed, for sure. But it is a good change.” She chuckled. “You just be sure to marry the right man. A man who loves you no matter what. I think Malachi is like that. He has a good heart and understanding eyes.”

Madison cringed inwardly. Yesterday she had declined Malachi’s invitation to meet him at the pond after bedtime. He had seemed hurt, but he had bounced back and promised, “Anna or no Anna, I will be there.” Thanks to that, she’d been afraid to sneak out and use the phone after everyone was asleep. Afraid she’d bump into him . . . afraid that he might actually sweep her off her feet . . . afraid that she might actually break his heart. She wanted out of here. Now.

“Oh, Anna!”

Madison jumped, looking up to see Rachel’s eyes wide. “What?”

Rachel scooted her chair back, pointing down at the floor, staring in horror at a puddle of water.

“What is it?” Madison asked. “Did you spill something?”

“My water.” Rachel groaned loudly.

Madison looked around for a water glass, trying to figure out why this was so upsetting. “Did the glass break? Do you want another drink?”

“Oh, oh!” Rachel grabbed her belly. “It is time!”

“What time?”

“The baby! It is coming!”

Madison jumped to her feet, horrified. “It’s coming?
Now?
”

“Help me.” Rachel stood too.

“What? What do I do?”

“Help me to my room. Hasten—before the next one.”

“The next what?”

“Birth pain.”

Madison walked next to Rachel, holding her arm, guiding her toward the stairs. When they were halfway up, Rachel doubled over in pain. “Too late. Here it comes.”

Madison didn’t know what to do as Rachel squatted right there on the stairs, moaning and groaning and clinging to Madison’s hand so tightly that her fingers grew numb. Everything in Madison told her to run to the phone and dial 9-1-1 and demand that an ambulance be sent out.

“It is enough.” Rachel stood up straight. “Help me, Anna. Hasten.”

Madison was thankful for her height as she partially led, partially dragged Rachel to her room, getting her settled on her bed just in time for another contraction. Madison watched helplessly as Rachel tossed and turned, crying out in pain, and then she grew quiet, beads of perspiration glistening on her forehead.

“Are you all right?” Madison asked.

“Baby is coming fast, Anna. The pains—are close.”

“What do I do?” Madison asked in desperation. “Is there someone I can call?”

Rachel told her a number and name. “Make sure the kettle is on.” Madison was about to go when Rachel shrieked that another pain was coming. Madison didn’t know what to do—whether to run to the barn and call the number or stay here to make sure Rachel was okay. What if Rachel died while she was gone?

Finally Rachel stopped moaning and looked up at Madison with frightened eyes. “Go, Anna! Run and call Sarah.
Schnell!
And watch Elizabeth!”

Madison nodded, streaking down the stairs. She looked for Elizabeth, who was no longer in the kitchen.

“Elizabeth!” she shouted. “Where are you?” No answer. “Elizabeth,” Madison called again. “You want bread and jam?” She waited, listening, and Elizabeth came running, holding up her chubby hands.

“
Ja
,
ja
,” she said. “Jam!”

“Not right now.” Madison swept the toddler up, set her on a hip, and headed out the door.

“Jam! Jam!” Elizabeth cried as Madison ran toward the barn.

“Horsey ride,” Madison said as she paused to hoist Elizabeth onto her shoulders.

“Giddyup!” Elizabeth cried.

Madison ran as fast as she could, then breathlessly picked up the phone, hoping she had remembered the number correctly. She’d always been good at memorizing numbers, but this was the one time when it really counted. She dialed and waited . . . and waited . . . and waited. Elizabeth was yelling in her ear for jam when a man’s voice finally answered.

“I need Sarah Hostetler now!”

The man spoke in German, asking her who she was and why she was calling.

“Frau Rachel Bender is having baby now!” she shouted. “Sarah Hostetler must come now! Hasten!”

Fortunately, he understood her. The best Madison could make out as he spoke in fast German was that he would bring his wife in the wagon.

“Hold on,” Madison told Elizabeth as she hung up the phone and started running back to the house. She looked out to the field where Daniel was working, but couldn’t see him. He probably wouldn’t come in for lunch for another hour.

“Jam!” Elizabeth shouted, struggling to get down as Madison ran through the kitchen.

“Not now.” Madison paused to make sure the kettle was full and hot, opened the front of the stove, and tossed in a few pieces of wood. “Come, Elizabeth,” she yelled as she ran out. “We need to go to Mamm.”

She could hear Elizabeth’s footsteps running behind her. She probably thought they were playing some kind of game, which was fine. What would Elizabeth think to see her mother in such pain?

When Madison burst into the bedroom, it was quiet and Rachel was not moving. Elizabeth started to climb onto the bed, but Madison picked her up. Rachel’s face was white and her eyes were closed.

With pounding heart, Madison touched her arm. “Rachel?”

“Ja,”
Rachel answered in a hoarse voice.

“Sarah is coming now.”

“Good.”

“The kettle is on. Elizabeth is here with me.”

“Good.” Rachel opened her eyes and looked up at them, giving Elizabeth a weak smile. Her eyes were bloodshot and her hair was wet from perspiration. “When the birth pain comes, Anna, you must take her out of here.”

“I will.” Madison took in a quick breath. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“You can pray.”

“Ja.”
Madison nodded. “I will do that.”

“Dis baby is not like the others, Anna. Something feels wrong.”

Madison reached down and took Rachel’s hand. It was clammy. “It’s going to be all right, Aunt Rachel. You will be all right. Baby will be all right.”

Rachel’s face twisted in pain, and Madison knew another contraction was coming. “Let’s go, Elizabeth,” she said. They quickly exited the room, closing the door behind them. She carried Elizabeth to their room, closed that door, and sang loudly to cover up the sounds coming from Rachel’s room.

“Blacks and bays, dapples and grays,” she practically shouted, “all the pretty little horses.” She had no idea where that song came from, but thought perhaps her grandmother used to sing it to her. Elizabeth seemed to like it because she was clapping her hands. Madison paused and realized it was quiet again.

“More!” Elizabeth demanded.

“More later.” Madison went back to Rachel’s room to see, again, that she was still and white as death. “I’m here,” she said. “Tell me if there’s anything I can do.”

“Just pray.”

“Ja.”
Madison nodded, and although she had no idea how to do this, she began to pray. “Dear God, please help Aunt Rachel. Please keep her baby safe and healthy. Keep Rachel safe and healthy. Help this baby to come soon. Take good care of both of them.” She rambled on until Rachel’s grimace returned. Then, as fast as she could go with Elizabeth still in her arms, Madison ran out of there and back to her room, where she continued to sing loudly.

Fortunately, Elizabeth began to think this was a game. Although it was tiring and Madison could feel her dress growing damp with perspiration, she knew that her exhaustion was nothing compared to how Rachel must be feeling. In fact, each time Madison went into the bedroom, she was worried that Rachel might really be dead. How did women survive this? What if she really did need a doctor? Rachel had told Madison that doctors were both expensive and unnecessary for something as common as childbirth—especially when it was a fifth child. Daniel would never hear of it.

Madison wasn’t sure if this was an Amish thing or a Daniel thing. Would he change his way of thinking if a life—perhaps two lives—were in danger? She was tempted to go down and call 9-1-1 for real now. She would simply confess to everyone that she was not Anna Fisher but was an Englisher girl, and that was what Englisher girls did in emergencies. But before she could do this, a tall, gray-haired woman and two younger women burst into the bedroom. The older one started barking directions and the other two sprang into action. The older woman told Madison to go—to take the child outside until this was over.

With mixed feelings, Madison did as she was told. On the one hand, she was relieved to finally have someone here who knew what to do. On the other hand, she felt as if Rachel needed her there too. But the woman was right, it was better to get Elizabeth out of there. The poor child might be damaged for life after seeing her mother like that. Madison doubted that there would be any Amish therapy groups to help her when she was older.

It wasn’t long before more buggies started to arrive. It seemed that bringing a baby into the world was an event that others felt entitled to participate in. Oh, not the actual birthing. Thankfully for Rachel’s sake, that was restricted to Sarah and her helpers. But other women came, bringing food and things, bustling about in the kitchen and in the house, taking over as if they lived there.

Madison tried to stay out of their way, but she couldn’t help overhearing some of their comments. It was just like Rachel had said. A couple of the women—not all, thankfully—began to make mean comments about Rachel’s domestic skills, or rather her lack of them. It really irked Madison. So much so that she decided to say something to the woman with the sharpest tongue. Madison thought the dark-haired woman’s name was Berta. She had the face of a bulldog and reminded Madison of an army sergeant.