Sarah's Gift (5 page)

“Ja.” Sarah had to blink back tears at the memory of the first client she’d had whose baby had been born with the maple syrup urine disease. The happiest time in a young couple’s life together had turned so quickly to sorrow.

Aunt Emma put her arm around Sarah, surprising her with a hug. “Ach, this is why I need you, my Sarah. You will keep me up-to-date, ain’t so?”

The tension drained out of Sarah as she returned her aunt’s hug. “And you’ll teach me what you’ve learned in a lifetime of being a midwife. It’s a fine trade, ja?”

“Ja.” Aunt Emma released her, blinking away what might be tears. “This will work out. For both of us. You’ll see.”

Sarah’s heart clutched. It would work out. It had to, because she had no other choices.

Sarah
watched the last patient of the day leave with a sense of satisfaction. Certainly some of the women had shown their preference for Aunt Emma, whom they knew and trusted, but that was only to be expected. And Aunt Emma had shown herself willing to compromise, which was a feat in itself. All in all, they were off to a fine start.

At some point during the afternoon Sarah had realized that she was listening for the sound of Aaron’s wagon. It hadn’t come. Apparently he was determined not to be here when their clients were.

She frowned, staring out at the brown winter grass. Aaron’s attitude was worrisome, and worse still was that moment when she’d looked into his face and felt . . . what? Attraction?

Her cheeks grew warm. She hadn’t felt so much as a flicker of interest in a man since Levi’s death over a year ago. She hadn’t expected to, ever. And if that interest was only sleeping, and not dead, why would it rouse for Aaron, of all people?

She brushed her apron straight with an impatient hand. These thoughts brought nothing constructive with them. Far better to make herself useful in the kitchen. Staying busy was always a remedy for worrying.

“I had thought we’d have the rest of the chicken potpie for supper tonight.” Aunt Emma was busy at the stove. “But those Miller boys cleaned it all up. Goodness, but young Benjamin can eat.”

“He’s still growing, that’s certain sure.” Sarah crossed the kitchen. “What can I do?”

“I’m heating some beef stew I put up in September.” Aunt Emma emptied the contents of a mason jar into a kettle. “You might start some biscuits to go with the stew.”

“I’ll do that.” Sarah reached into the cabinet for the earthenware bowl she always remembered Aunt Emma using for biscuits and dumplings. “It was nice, working together today, ain’t so?”

“Ja. Reminded me of when you were here before, so serious and eager to learn.” Her aunt stirred the stew to keep it from sticking.

“I wanted to be just like you, that’s why. You’re the reason I became a midwife. You know that.” She measured flour into the bowl.

“I know.” Aunt Emma glanced at her, face serious. “Sometimes I thought . . . well, I worried that maybe the midwifery came between you and Levi.”

Sarah’s fingers tightened on the handle of the wooden spoon, and she forced them to relax. “There was a time when I thought he was proud of my work. But when our own babies didn’t come . . .” It still hurt, thinking of the distance that had grown between them.

“I know.” Her aunt’s voice was soft. “That’s hard on a marriage, for sure.”

“My being a midwife didn’t help, I guess, but it didn’t cause the problem. And now . . . well, I’m just so glad I have a job to do that helps other women have babies.”

Aunt Emma nodded, her eyes suspiciously bright. “It is gut work, that’s certain sure. Important work.”

“Ja.” Maybe this was the right moment to bring up the testing again, to be sure they were in agreement. “I didn’t think to ask you earlier, but where do your mothers go for testing? In Ohio, we had a clinic we worked with. Is there anything in town?”

“Not in Pleasant Valley, no. Only Dr. Mitchell, and I hear tell that he would talk every woman out of using a midwife if he could.”

“That’s a shame.” It was what she’d heard from the other women, and apparently Aunt Emma believed the same. “Still, maybe he’d be willing to cooperate on the newborn testing.”

Aunt Emma shook her head decidedly. “Better to use the clinic over near Fostertown. It’s farther, but Dr. Brandenmyer does gut work, and they’re doing research on the genetic diseases besides. Leah Glick does volunteer work for them. She can tell you all about it. In fact, you ought to go along the next time she’s going to the clinic. Just to let Dr. Brandenmyer know who you are.”

Before she could respond, Aunt Emma had moved to the window. “A buggy. Who would be coming now . . . ach, it’s Jonas.” Her voice lifted. “What a nice surprise.”

Aunt Emma hurried to the door, and Sarah followed more slowly. Not that she wasn’t happy to see her cousin, but what Aunt Emma had said about Jonas urging her to sell the house and move in with him . . . Well, Jonas might not be best pleased with Sarah right now.

But Jonas, turning to her after hugging his mother, enveloped her in a hug, too. “My little cousin, all grown up. It is gut to see you, Sarah.”

“And you.” She pressed her cheek against his, ruddy from the cold. “It’s been too long. How is Mary? And the kinder?”

“All well. The little ones are growing like weeds, for sure.” He hung his coat on a peg in the back hall.

“Having a family agrees with you.” She hadn’t seen Jonas since his wedding. He’d broadened out since then, and his chestnut brown beard was down to his chest.

Jonas patted his stomach. “My Mary is a gut cook, for sure. But not so gut as my mamm.”

Aunt Emma shook her head, smiling. “Don’t you let Mary hear you say that. A man should always like his wife’s cooking best. Ach, it’s so gut to see you.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t let you know I was coming.” Jonas followed them into the kitchen. “I had a chance at a ride from Fostertown all of a sudden. I needed to see Bishop Mose about some new harness. My driver isn’t going back until later, so I borrowed a buggy from Bishop Mose and came to see if there might be enough supper for one more.”

“There’s always enough.” Aunt Emma was beaming. “I’ll just get another jar of stew from the pantry.”

“I’ll do that,” Sarah said quickly. “You sit down and visit.”

She was just as glad to have a moment to think, so she took her time about locating the stew in the rows of jars that lined the shelves of the pantry. Jonas might be feeling that her coming had interfered with his plans for his mother. And he’d be right about that. Still, Emma seemed well able to decide for herself what she wanted.

Sarah walked back into the kitchen ready to tell Jonas exactly that, should he bring the subject up.

However, it seemed Jonas had no such thing in mind. The talk over supper was mostly about his growing family, the downturn in the economy that had left some Amish without the factory jobs they’d had, and the problems of keeping a good teacher at their school.

It was only after the meal was over that Jonas seemed ready to tackle something else. “You sit down and put your feet up,” he urged his mother, leading her toward the living room. “I’ll help Sarah with the dishes.”

“You don’t need to help me,” she said, when he returned and picked up a dish towel. “I can take care of these while you visit with your mother.”

“When you don’t have sisters, you have to learn to help in the kitchen from time to time.” Jonas dried a plate vigorously. “Mary always says she’s glad my mamm taught me so well.”

“Your mamm thinks the world of Mary, from everything she’s said.” She suspected that Jonas wouldn’t take long to reach the subject of his desire for a private chat.

“Ja, that’s so. It’s a lucky man whose wife and mother get on so well as they do.” He slanted a glance toward Sarah. “That’s why we thought it best for Mammi to move in with us.”

And there it was. “I’m sure Aunt Emma would like that when she’s ready.”

“We thought she was ready now. Neither of us wanted to see her go through another winter here alone. But then you came.”

It was not said angrily, but Sarah still felt the words were an accusation.

“I came because your mother asked me to.”

“Ach, ja, I know that.” Jonas frowned at the bowl he was drying. “If you’d talked to us before you agreed, things might have been different.”

She couldn’t argue with that. “They might have been, I guess. But why would I think of talking to you? Your mamm has always been an independent woman, able to make decisions for herself.”

Jonas drew himself up, as if about to say something important. “Now that my father is gone, the responsibility for my mother is mine. It’s time she gave up working so hard and took it a little easy for the rest of her days.”

Sarah raised her eyebrows. “Is that what your mamm thinks?”

For a moment she thought Jonas would flare out at her. He looked very like the boy cousin who’d ordered her not to climb the apple tree when she was six. Of course she had, and gotten stuck, to boot.

Then a smile tugged at Jonas’s mouth, and the pompous air vanished.

“No, I guess it’s not.” The smile widened into a grin. “My mother is not the only independent woman in the family.”

Sarah smiled back, her defensiveness evaporating. “Jonas, you know I wouldn’t do anything to harm your mamm. She’s not ready to give up yet, and now that I’m here, she needn’t work so hard. Or be alone in the house.”

“Ja, that’s so.”

She heard a reservation in his voice, and it troubled her.

“If something else is wrong, just tell me.”

Jonas rubbed the back of his neck, hesitating. Finally he seemed to make up his mind. “It seems to us that Mammi is getting a little forgetful these days. Mary tried to get her to go to the doctor about it, but Mammi wouldn’t hear of it.”

If anything would strain the relationship between mother-in-law and daughter-in-law, unwelcome advice would be it.

“I’m sorry, but—”

“Have you seen any sign of her forgetting things?” Jonas leaned on the sink, looking into her face. “Sarah, it has me worried.”

She tried to smile. Jonas had become a boy who was worried about his mother, not a man who was trying to make decisions for her.

“Only once or twice since I’ve been here,” she said. “Just little things, like mistaking the day. And when someone lives alone, that’s not unusual.”

“You think she’s all right, then?”

She put her hand over his. “Will it make you feel better if I promise to keep my eyes open for any problems? If there are any, maybe I can find a way of getting her to the doctor.”

He blew out a breath. “Ja, that would be a relief. Maybe it’s gut that you’ve komm after all.”

He didn’t sound totally convinced, but that might be too much to hope for. She smiled and patted his hand. “I’ll look after her. I promise.”

CHAPTER FIVE

S
arah
heard the sounds of hammering early the next morning. Obviously the Miller brothers were hard at work after their disappearance the previous day.

She hesitated for a moment. There was something she wanted to discuss with Aaron about the storage areas. Legitimate as that concern was, she was reluctant to press him into a discussion that involved the purpose to which the rooms would be put.

That was foolish, wasn’t it? She’d prayed for the wisdom to deal with Aaron. Staying away from him wasn’t dealing with him—it was hiding. Pulling her shawl around her shoulders, she opened the door to the addition.

All three brothers worked today—maybe with the idea of making up for missing yesterday. Aaron looked up at the sound of the door opening, his face unreadable.

“Sarah.” He nodded in greeting.

“You are making progress.” The uprights had been replaced and the framing was finished. “Already it is warmer to work out here, with the wind cut off.”

“It will be even better when we have the insulation installed.” Nathan’s relaxed smile accompanied the words. In the face of Aaron’s apparent disapproval of her and Benjamin’s teenage sulkiness, Nathan seemed most ready to be friends.

“You won’t freeze your fingers when you work, then.” She’d noticed that while the two younger boys wore work gloves, Aaron seemed to prefer touching the wood with his hands as he cut and hammered. Even now his hand caressed the board he handled as if it were a living creature.

“Ja, that’s for sure,” Nathan said. At a look from Aaron, he turned back to his cutting.

She’d like to believe that Aaron was only concerned with his brother giving his attention to the job, but she suspected his reaction was more personal than that. She rejected the temptation to escape back into the house and forced herself to approach him.

When she stood next to him, he kept his gaze on his hand for a long moment. Then he turned to her.

“Is there something you need, Sarah?”

“I’d like to discuss the storage areas with you. If you can come into the examining room with me for just a moment—”

“Not now.” The words were curt enough to be insulting. He seemed to realize that, and he gave a twitch of his firm lips that might have been meant for a smile. “It’s best we finish what we’re doing at the moment, so we can get on with the insulation this afternoon.” He turned to Benjamin, seeming to dismiss her. “You can start cutting the insulation now, so it will be ready.”

Benjamin seemed to freeze, and even she could read the guilt in his face.

“Well?” Aaron’s voice was sharp. “Was ist letz? What’s wrong?”

“I . . . I forgot to put the cutter in.” Benjamin’s embarrassment was probably doubled because she was here.

“Forgot it?” Aaron’s face tightened even more, if that was possible. “How are we to cut the insulation without it?”

Benjamin’s guilt turned to a pout, and he looked so like her own little brother when he’d done something wrong that Sarah wanted to reach out to him. But Aaron would hardly welcome that.

“It’s no big deal,” Benjamin muttered.

“Don’t talk to me as if I were one of your Englisch friends.” Aaron glanced at her and then caught the boy by the arm. “Komm. I’ll tell you some other things to bring when you go back for the cutter.” He marched Benjamin outside.

Sarah had to press her lips together to keep from voicing her opinion. Didn’t Aaron see that being sharp with the boy would only make him more rebellious?

“Do you have bruders, Sarah?” Nathan’s question pulled her attention away from the two of them who stood out by the wagon.

“Ja, five of them and no sisters, so I know a little about getting along with boys.” She thought of her own youngest brother. “James, the youngest, is fourteen. He’s going to be a dairy farmer, just like Daad, if he has his way.”

“That’s nice, that is.” Nathan paused for a moment, straightening so that he could see out the door opening to where his brothers stood. “Often boys that age don’t know what they want.”

“True enough. Did you?”

Nathan grinned. “For sure. Aaron put tools in my hands as soon as I could hold them. I never wanted anything else.”

Obviously Aaron had taken time and patience with his siblings. “It seems as if Aaron is more like a father to you two than a brother sometimes.” She remembered what Aunt Emma had said about the father’s drinking problem and wished the words back.

But Nathan didn’t seem to take offense. “Ja, he always has been. He was fourteen when Mammi died, so he just took charge.” His smile flickered again. “Molly reminds him that we’re most all grown up now and he can relax, but I don’t suppose he ever will.”

“Parents don’t, do they? My daad still worries over me.” She felt a rush of longing to have Daadi’s arms around her shoulders. “Now I know how much that concern means, but there were times when I was impatient with what seemed like endless fussing.”

“Like Benjamin.” Nathan didn’t seem too concerned. “It will all komm straight.”

She hesitated, wondering if she could say the thought in her mind. But if she didn’t speak, how could she know what Nathan might say?

“I’m afraid that this project is difficult for Aaron. Because of your mamm.”

He was silent for so long that Sarah feared she’d gone too far. Then he nodded.

“Maybe. But maybe that’s gut. Bishop Mose would say that all of this—you being here, our doing the work—is God’s will, meant for our well-being.”

She smiled despite the tears that filled her eyes. “Nathan, I think that you are very wise for someone so young.”

“Not me. But Sarah . . .” He hesitated a moment. “If Aaron gives you trouble, just remember that you’re the boss on this job, ain’t so?”

She couldn’t respond because she heard Aaron returning, but she gave Nathan a grateful smile before she turned toward Aaron.

He glanced from Nathan to her as if wondering what was going on between them. “Benjamin will be back soon. That boy would forget his head if it weren’t attached.”

“Most nearly-sixteen-year-olds are like that,” she said easily. “Now, about the storage areas.” She didn’t give Aaron time to protest. “When you break for lunch, I will show you what we have now in the exam room and what things I want changed.”

She was pleased to hear that her words didn’t leave any room for excuses. Aaron must feel that way, too, because he simply gave a sharp nod of agreement before turning back to his work.

Aaron
followed Sarah into what she called the exam room, and the beef-and-onion pie Emma had served for lunch seemed to form a clump in his stomach. He didn’t want to talk about what Sarah and Emma needed for delivering babies. But Sarah hadn’t left him much choice in the matter, now had she?

Her firmness had taken him by surprise. He didn’t remember such spirit in the girl she’d been. Maturity had changed her in a number of ways, it seemed.

His gaze lingered on the long curve of Sarah’s slim back as she moved to the closet and opened it. He blinked and stared at a hairline crack in the plaster instead. He didn’t need to be noticing anything about Sarah Mast—that was certain sure.

“You can see that we’re a little cramped for space.” She gestured at two large black bags on the bottom shelf. “We manage to fit what we need in our bags when we do home births, but we’d like to have about half again the storage in the birthing rooms.” She darted a glance at him. “Is this making you nervous, Aaron?”

He shrugged, pulling his measuring tape from his pocket. “Don’t most men feel that way when it comes to talking about babies?”

She considered, head tipped slightly to one side. “I would say that Amish men usually take birthing fairly calmly, even though they don’t talk about it much. Englischers are another matter.” Her face relaxed in a smile. “I remember one husband—a great big fellow he was, and so sure he’d be able to help his wife through delivery. Instead he passed out flat on the floor, and we had to tend him.”

Aaron managed an answering smile, though he didn’t feel anything resembling humor. His father hadn’t done so well when Mamm was in labor, as he recalled. He’d slipped away, leaving everything to the midwife.

Sliding out the metal tape, Aaron knelt to measure the length of the closet. The tape snapped back when he pulled out his pad and pencil.

“Let me.” Sarah took the pencil and paper from his hand, her fingers brushing his. “You tell me the measurements, and I’ll write them down.”

“Ja, fine.” He needed to concentrate on the job, not let his mind wander off into the past. Or onto his own personal feelings about midwives.

Bishop Mose had pushed him into this job, and he would do it. But he didn’t have to like it.

“Forty-eight inches long.” Still, he couldn’t help being aware of Sarah standing just behind him, the hem of her skirt brushing his arm. He swung the tape vertically. “Looks like the spacing between the shelves is fourteen inches, and the shelves are ten inches wide.”

Sarah jotted down the numbers before she spoke again. “Deeper shelves would be more useful. Can you do that?”

“Sure.” He glanced up at her, sidetracked for a moment by the view of her face from this unexpected angle. He stood, taking a careful step away. “Anything else?”

“Aunt Emma loves her corner cupboard in the kitchen. I was thinking to put one in each room, if you and your brothers could do that.”

He nodded, making a note of it. “We can. Nathan has a gut hand with designing shelf units.”

“Nathan loves working with you. He says you started teaching him when he was barely old enough to hold the tools.”

When had she gotten on such friendly terms with Nathan? “Ja, I guess that’s so.”

“And I suppose you did the same with Benjamin, as well.”

Her tone was casual, but he didn’t doubt that her thoughts were on how he’d handled the boy this morning. Already he regretted that, but he wasn’t going to say so to Sarah.

“Benjamin does well, when he puts his mind to it. Unfortunately, that’s not often enough.” He snapped the tape closed and slid it back into his pocket.

“Ach, he reminds me of my youngest brother, James. I think they’re all a little befuddled at that age, don’t you?”

“Benjamin must learn to be responsible.” His voice snapped like the tape had, snicking back into its case.

“Like you?” Her gaze met his, and there was a spark in her green eyes.

“I have to be responsible. As you do.”

“We’re adults. Benjamin is a boy still.”

“And he is my brother. I will handle him as I see fit.”

For an instant they glared at each other. Were they arguing about Benjamin? Or about the other thing that lay between them?

The door swung open, and Emma hurried in. “Ach, Sarah, we must hurry. It’s almost time for the patients to start arriving.”

Tension tightened his hands into fists. “I thought you didn’t see patients today,” he said.

“We don’t.” Sarah had paled. She moved quickly to Emma and took her arm. “We don’t have any patients coming today, Aunt Emma. Remember? This is Wednesday.”

For a moment Emma just stared at her. Then she shook her head, her concerned expression dissolving in ruefulness. “Ach, I’m ferhoodled today. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“You’re tired, that’s all.” Sarah took the older woman’s arm and turned her toward the door. “Why don’t you have a rest? I’ll clean up from lunch as soon as Aaron and I are finished.”

Sarah’s caring, her gentleness, seemed to touch something inside him. But the incident just confirmed what he already felt. Emma should retire. Surely Sarah could see that as well as he did.

Emma went out, still shaking her head at herself. Sarah swung toward him, face defensive.

“I suppose you think that means something.”

“I think it means what any sensible person would think. Emma is growing forgetful. She shouldn’t be delivering babies.”

Sarah folded her arms across her chest. “Just because she loses track of the days doesn’t mean she has to be put out to pasture.”

“What if she forgets when she’s supposed to be delivering a baby?”

“That won’t happen. I’m here. I won’t let it.”

“You can’t do everything, Sarah.” His voice softened despite himself. She seemed so alone. He didn’t want her to be hurt. “It’s not too late to pull back from the project. You don’t have to sink your savings into something that may not work out.”

“You’d like to get out of this, wouldn’t you?” The flare of defiance that accompanied the words startled him. “You may as well forget that idea, Aaron. I’m not changing my plans for you or anyone else.”

Aunt
Emma might have grown a little forgetful, but not when it came to the activities of her church. So Sarah found herself in the kitchen at the township fire hall at five in the morning. The cement-block building was filled with a group of women putting on a hunters’ breakfast to raise money for charity.

She’d already been awake when Aunt Emma came to call her at four. Her sleep had been troubled by the guilt that hung over her. She had lost her temper with Aaron and spoken hasty, angry words. She almost never did such a thing, and she couldn’t understand what had gotten into her.

She’d already asked God for forgiveness. She’d have to ask Aaron, as well, before things would be right.

“Do you do this every year?” She stood next to Leah at the huge commercial gas range, watching over griddle after griddle filled with pancakes.

“Just about.” Leah flipped blueberry pancakes with an expert hand. “Everyone comes, Amish, Mennonite, and Englisch alike, and not only hunters. This year the money will go to Mennonite Disaster Relief for hurricane victims.”

“My church in Ohio raised money for that, too.” Sarah scooped buckwheat batter onto a griddle. “This was a bad year for hurricanes, for sure.”

She glanced through the pass-through at the large open room filled with long tables. They were already lined with people in hunter orange, eating their way through mountains of pancakes, sausage, bacon, and eggs prepared all ways, to say nothing of all the coffeecakes and breads the women had brought.