Sarah's Gift (9 page)

“You ladies take your time,” he said as he pulled up at the front entrance of a long building—new, but built in a style that imitated a large farmhouse. “I’m heading down the road to the coffee shop, but I’ll come back in about an hour or so.”

“Denke, Ben.” Leah was obviously used to the process. She handed money to Ben as she slid out of the car. “We will see you later, then.”

Sarah walked up the steps with Leah, trying to ignore the way her stomach crunched in anticipation. She needed to develop a working relationship with the people she’d meet in the clinic. Unfortunately, she was well aware of how some medical personnel regarded lay midwives.

“Don’t be nervous.” Leah squeezed her arm, apparently well aware of her feelings. “Honestly, I was that frightened the first time I came here—well, I can hardly believe it now.”

“You’re a valuable volunteer to them.” Sarah had learned enough about the work Leah did, gathering Amish family tree information to track genetic diseases, to know that the clinic was very fortunate to have her. “Some of these people may see me as a competitor, and an unqualified one at that.”

Her mind flickered to Dr. Mitchell and his apparent opposition to midwives. If it was true that he’d hoped Aunt Emma was going out of business, what must he think now that Sarah had joined her?

“Then we’ll have to change their minds about the value of midwives, won’t we?”

Leah opened the door and walked into a wide center hallway with warm wooden plank floors and a maple bench against the wall under a row of hooks. She removed her coat and bonnet, hanging them from one of the hooks, and motioned for Sarah to do the same.

Sarah hung up her outer clothes and brushed her skirt down even though it didn’t need it. There was nothing to be nervous about...

Well, there was, really, but she couldn’t let that fact hold her back from what she’d come here to do. The newborn testing was too important to give way to her qualms.

“The clinic waiting room,” Leah said quietly. She gestured to a long room on the right. An Amish couple sat in a pair of rocking chairs, the woman holding a small child in her lap. The pair looked up and nodded, seeming at home in this setting.

As they should be. The room was furnished with sturdy wooden pieces that looked as if they’d been made by an Amish craftsman, and the walls had been painted a soothing cream color. One corner of the room had been fitted up as a play area with a child-size table and chairs and a box of toys.

“This is very nice. It looks welcoming, not like a clinic at all.”

Leah smiled slightly. “The first time I came here, the waiting room was lined with plastic chairs in bright colors and the walls covered with so many posters it made me dizzy. Now it’s more comfortable, especially for the Amish patients, I think.”

Sarah nodded. She would guess that Leah might have had something to do with the changes, but she didn’t ask, knowing Leah would not want to sound prideful.

“The examining rooms are behind the waiting room,” Leah said. “This whole side of the building is for treating patients, and on the other side, all the research is being done.” She crossed the hall to a door that must lead into that other world. “One day the things they learn here may keep our children safe from genetic diseases. That’s my prayer.”

“Mine also,” Sarah said, liking Leah more each time she saw her. “Even now, such progress is being made in treatment that would have seemed impossible ten or fifteen years ago. The earlier treatment is started, the better the outcome for the child.”

Leah nodded, opening the door. “And the better we’re able to educate the parents and prepare them for the future, too.”

Sarah followed her into the research area, her tension ratcheting up even higher. This area was far different from the waiting room. Offices and labs opened onto the tiled, pale-green hallway down which Leah led her. Various people were bent over machines she couldn’t begin to guess the purpose of.

For the most part, the researchers were so intent on their jobs that they didn’t take notice of them. One white-coated woman glanced away from her computer, nodding to Leah in a friendly manner. Clearly Leah was at home in both worlds.

An Englischman came striding down the hall, frowning down at some sort of cell phone in his hand. He looked up, saw them, and broke into a smile.

“Leah!” He reached them and threw his arms around Leah in a hug. “I didn’t know you were coming today. This is a nice surprise.”

Sarah fought to control her expression at the embrace. It was not her business to judge Leah’s relationship with this man.

Leah detached herself from his grasp, straightening her apron, smiling. “Sarah, this impetuous person is one of the researchers I work with—Johnny Kile. Johnny is Rachel Brand’s twin brother. Johnny, I want you to meet Sarah Mast, Emma Stoltzfus’s niece.”

So the man was both Rachel’s brother and a medical researcher. Today was full of surprises, but that certainly explained his greeting to Leah. They must have been friends since childhood.

“Wie bist du heit,” she said. “I am pleased to meet you. I know your sister.”

Johnny’s smile reminded her of Rachel’s, and she saw the strong resemblance now that she knew.

“Welcome, Sarah. Has Leah talked you into helping her with the information gathering?”

“Ach, no,” Leah said. “I should have explained myself better. Sarah is a midwife, just come to serve us in Pleasant Valley.”

Something changed in Johnny’s expression at the words—that indefinable look of someone who disapproved but would be polite. His sister, Rachel, was pregnant. Maybe he thought she would be better off going to a doctor than a midwife.

“She is here to meet with Dr. Brandenmyer today about newborn testing,” Leah explained. “Will you let him know we are here?”

Johnny nodded, going to a phone on a nearby desk. While he did that, Leah set the black case she carried on the desk and took out a folder.

“I’ll be giving my findings to someone who will enter them into the computer,” she said. “When you are finished talking with Dr. Brandenmyer, I’ll be around here someplace. Or ask anyone.”

Sarah surreptitiously wiped her hands on her skirt. “I won’t be long. I’m sure Dr. Brandenmyer is a very busy person.”

When the man himself loped down the hall a few minutes later, that sense was confirmed. Dr. Brandenmyer had a lean, intelligent face, a pair of piercing eyes, and an air of knowing everything about everyone around him.

“So this is the new midwife.” He greeted Sarah with a look that seemed to go right through her. “I was just talking to Dr. O’Neill about you.”

Sarah blinked at the mention of the physician she’d worked with in Ohio. “I hope he is well.”

“Fine, fine.” He smiled. “He thinks very highly of you, you know.”

So Dr. Brandenmyer had been checking up on her. She couldn’t blame him for that. She could only be relieved that the report had been favorable.

“I enjoyed very much working with him. He cares deeply about his patients.”

He nodded. “That comes through, doesn’t it?” He glanced at Johnny and Leah. “You’ll excuse us, won’t you? I’d like to show the clinic area to Mrs. Mast.”

The walk across to the clinic side didn’t take long, but Dr. Brandenmyer used that time to turn Sarah’s mind inside out, learning her opinions on every subject related to childbirth. He nodded gravely when she talked about the importance of having newborns tested.

“That’s an important step. Even though we don’t yet have a cure, the diseases can be managed much more effectively if we know about the situation from the beginning.”

“Ja, that’s so. I feel that every Amish baby should be tested automatically, regardless of whether a disease has been found in the family. It’s such a simple thing to do, and it can save so much wondering and heartache.”

Sarah paused, distracted. The young Amish woman she’d seen in the waiting room stood in the hallway, hesitating by the door to a treatment room. Sarah’s heart clenched. She knew the emotion the woman attempted to hide. Fear. She was afraid of whatever came next.

She shouldn’t interfere, but she couldn’t just walk away, either. She went to the young woman, touching her arm gently.

“Are you all right? Do you need help?”

At the sound of Pennsylvania Dutch speech, the young woman turned to Sarah, relief relaxing her taut features.

“I have to have an ultrasound.” She pronounced the English word carefully, hand cradling her belly in a gesture of protection. “I haven’t had one before. What if it hurts my baby?”

“No, no, it won’t do that. My name is Sarah. What is yours?”

“Naomi. Naomi Haus.” She flushed slightly. “I’m sorry if I’m being foolish.”

“It’s never foolish to say when something bothers you. The person who gives you the test is just going to run an instrument across your belly. It doesn’t hurt, and it will give the doctor an image of your baby.”

“Will it see if something is wrong with my baby?” Naomi’s eyes filled with tears.

Sarah glanced at Dr. Brandenmyer, afraid of seeing disapproval there. But he was watching them with understanding warmth in his eyes. He nodded, as if saying that she should answer.

“The ultrasound shows some problems, but not everything,” she said cautiously, not knowing what Naomi’s doctor might suspect. “I promise you that it won’t harm your baby.”

“Mrs. Haus, would it make you feel better to have Mrs. Mast come in with you for the ultrasound?” Dr. Brandenmyer asked.

“Oh, ja.” Relief flooded Naomi’s face. “I would like that if . . . if you don’t mind.” She looked at Sarah.

“I would be happy to.” Sarah put her arm around the woman.

Dr. Brandenmyer nodded toward the exam room. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “You have a noticing heart. That’s a rare gift.”

When Sarah came back out a few minutes later, she was surprised to find Dr. Brandenmyer waiting. “Thank you for letting me go in with Naomi. I don’t want to delay you . . .”

“Not at all.” He detoured to a nearby counter and picked up a stack of business cards, which he handed to Sarah. “Count on us to process the tests for you. And don’t hesitate to get in touch if you have any concerns. We’ll be happy to consult with you.”

For a moment she couldn’t speak. “Denke,” she said softly. “I’m wonderful glad you are willing to work with me.”

Dr. Brandenmyer glanced at a man walking toward them—fairly young, dressed in ordinary Englisch clothes, not a doctor’s or researcher’s coat. “Here’s someone you should meet, if you haven’t already.”

The man stopped, obviously acquainted with Dr. Brandenmyer. “Thank you for the tour. You have a great facility here.”

Dr. Brandenmyer nodded, probably used to hearing that from visitors. “I’d like to introduce you two, since Mrs. Mast is from your area. Sarah, this is Dr. Thomas Mitchell. Dr. Mitchell, Sarah Mast. She’s in the midwife practice in Pleasant Valley.”

Sarah’s breath caught. So this was the man everyone said was opposed to midwives. Somehow she’d expected someone older and set in his ways. Dr. Mitchell couldn’t be much more than thirty, with an unlined face that made him look even younger.

For a moment the man just stared at her, his gaze icy. Then, without acknowledging her, he turned to Dr. Brandenmyer. “I didn’t realize you had midwives working here.”

Dr. Brandenmyer’s eyebrows lifted. “We don’t yet, but I hope we will, eventually. We’re discussing doing the prenatal and newborn testing for Mrs. Mast’s clients.”

“I see.” Dr. Mitchell clipped off the words. “Frankly, that surprises me. Thank you for inviting me to visit. It’s been interesting.” He gave Dr. Brandenmyer a meaningless smile, turned, and walked away, still without acknowledging Sarah.

Dr. Brandenmyer waited until the door had closed behind him, and then he blew out a breath. “Well, that was unfortunate. Have you had dealings with the man?”

“No. But I did hear that he has spoken out against midwives. I’m sorry if my being here has created an uncomfortable situation for you.”

“Nonsense. I’d say Dr. Mitchell is the one who should be sorry. Still, I’m sure you sometimes encounter medical personnel who will give you problems. But the good that you do for your clients makes the trouble worthwhile, doesn’t it?”

“Ja,” she said, feeling as if she’d found an understanding friend. “It does.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

F
inished
my side,” Benjamin said, flourishing his hammer. “Hurry up, slowpoke.”

Nathan just grinned. “It’s more important to do it right than to do it fast.” He drove the last nail into the window molding.

“Let’s have a look.” Aaron decided he’d best interrupt before they started bickering, although truth to tell, his brothers had been getting on very well since Molly arrived. The past few days had been marked by harmony all around.

He checked out the molding, not that he needed to. He knew Nathan would see that it was done right. He slid his hand along the joins, noting how smoothly Nathan had fitted the pieces together, and felt a glow of something that might have been pride. His brother was a born carpenter, it seemed.

“Gut work. See how much of the next one you can do before we break for middaagesse.”

Nathan nodded. “Can’t believe it is Friday already. This week has gone by in a hurry.”

“I hear they’re working on the school Christmas program already.” Benjamin sounded a little wistful. It hadn’t been that long since the Christmas program was the highlight of his year. “We’ll take Molly, ja?”

“Sure thing.” Aaron stood for a moment, hands on his hips, surveying the work to be done. The finishing would take much of next week, most likely, but the end was in sight.

He’d not be seeing so much of Sarah Mast then. That was what he wanted, wasn’t it?

He settled down to mitering the corners of the baseboard, taking his time, making it right. Maybe the thing was that Sarah had turned out to be a real person to him, not just a midwife. She was a woman with qualities he admired. He’d not soon forget her courage and strength that day at the pond.

But she was a midwife, and with Molly here, he couldn’t forget that, either. He frowned down at the corner he was cutting, thinking about that conversation with Molly the night she’d arrived.

She hadn’t brought up the subject of seeing a doctor or a midwife since then, and that chafed at him. Little as he knew about it, he thought she should be making that decision.

Why would she even consider having a midwife deliver the baby? She was old enough to remember what happened to Mammi. She of all people should understand why he felt the way he did.

“Someone’s coming.” Benjamin leaned over to peer out the window. “It’s Molly.”

“What is she doing here?” He glanced from Nathan to Benjamin, looking for a sign that they knew something of this unannounced visit. They both seemed as surprised as he was. But not as wary.

Molly tapped on the door frame and held up a basket. “I brought you some lunch. Help me up, already.”

Benjamin moved, but Aaron beat him to it. He took the basket, handing it to his brother, and lifted Molly into the room.

“You should wait until we have the steps built,” Benjamin said, grinning at her. “Or we could rig up the block and tackle from the hayloft.”

Molly took a playful swipe at him. “Mind your manners, or I won’t give you any of the food I brought.”

Aaron’s jaw tightened. “I told you that Emma gives us our lunch. There was no need for you to come here.”

“Ach, I must have forgotten.” Molly evaded his eyes. “I’ll just add what I brought to whatever Emma is fixing.”

“Molly—”

But he was too late. She’d already gone through into the house, carrying her basket.

Not that he could have stopped her anyway. Molly seldom argued about things—she just went her own way, no matter what anyone said. The thought sent a chill down his back.

He knew perfectly well she hadn’t come because she thought she should bring them lunch. She’d come to see Sarah for herself.

Through the window he could see the two of them in the kitchen, setting food on the table, talking and laughing as if they were old friends. They were, in a way, but that didn’t make the situation any better. It made it worse. Molly might feel that she was slighting Sarah by going to someone else for the baby’s birth.

By the time Sarah called them in to lunch, he’d built up a head of steam. At least he knew well enough to keep hold on it.

“You go on.” He gestured his brothers toward the door. “I just want to finish this one piece before I quit.”

Nathan opened his mouth as if to argue, took a second look at Aaron’s face, and followed his younger brother into the house. The door closed on their chatter and the sound of laughter.

Gut. He drove a nail into place with a bit too much effort.

“Aaron?”

He froze at the sound of Sarah’s voice. He’d assumed she was in the house with the others. He’d been wrong.

He picked up another finishing nail. “I’ll be in soon. Just go ahead without me.” He kept his eyes focused on the work.

Sarah moved, but not away from him. Toward him. She came to a stop next to him, and he could glimpse the fold of her skirt in the corner of his eye.

“Will you tell me what’s wrong?”

He took a hasty blow with the hammer and missed the nail completely. Luckily he missed his finger as well.

“Nothing’s wrong.”

Her silence told him she wasn’t buying that. Sarah seemed to have a way of knowing too much about his feelings. He didn’t like that. Although he had to admit that in some circumstances that might be . . .

Maybe it was best not to let his thoughts stray in that direction.

“Molly didn’t come over to bring us lunch. She came because she wanted an excuse to see you.”

It was unfortunate that he knew he sounded like a sulky child.

“Molly doesn’t need an excuse to see me. We are old friends.” She hadn’t moved, but it almost seemed as if she were closer to him, the way her voice warmed.

“I don’t think she came only to renew your friendship.”

“What’s wrong—” She stopped, and he saw her hand tighten against her skirt. “I see. You are afraid that Molly will want a midwife to deliver her baby.”

Afraid.
The word echoed in his mind. That was exactly right. He was afraid.

Sarah reached out, as if to touch his shoulder, but then let her hand fall back against her skirt. “She’s your little sister. It’s natural that you would worry about her.”

“You agree there’s reason to worry.” He jumped on her words, turning to look up at her.

She smiled, but her eyes were troubled. “As far as I know, your sister is a fine, healthy woman who’s going to have a fine, healthy baby. So, no, I don’t see a reason to worry, but you’ve been taking care of your brothers and sister most of your life. Of course you’re concerned. That’s what anyone would expect.”

His mouth twisted in an attempt to smile. “I’m not sure Molly sees it that way.”

“She knows you love her and want what’s best for her.” She smiled, and this time she did touch his shoulder . . . a light, caring movement that ended too soon.

“I don’t think it’s unreasonable to want her to see a doctor for this baby. I don’t want to hurt your feelings, Sarah . . .”

She was already shaking her head. “My feelings don’t have anything to do with it. This decision is for Molly and Jacob to make.”

“That’s what she said.” He frowned down at his hand, clenched so tightly on the hammer that his knuckles were white. “Maybe it would be easier if Jacob were here. It’s hard on a young couple, being separated at a time like this. She doesn’t have him, so she depends on me. Does she expect me just to stop caring what she does?” He was crazy, to be talking about this to Sarah, of all people.

“No.” Her voice was soft. “She expects you to let her grow up, Aaron. That’s all. Just let her grow up.”

Sarah
set the bassinet next to the stove in Dora Schmidt’s kitchen, running her fingers over the soft sheet to warm it. Soon it would cradle yet another new infant, following its brothers and sisters into a loving home.

True to Aunt Emma’s prediction about the full moon, Dora had gone into labor early on Saturday. Sarah and Emma had arrived at noon in answer to a summons delivered by Dora’s oldest boy, to find Dora mixing up a batch of jumble cookies with the younger children. With nothing else to do once things were prepared in the bedroom for the birth, they had joined in the baking.

Now, by midafternoon, Dora finally seemed ready to concentrate on the baby’s arrival. She obviously preferred Emma’s presence in the room to Sarah’s, so Sarah kept herself busy while Emma attended to Dora’s last stages of birth.

Foolish to mind that, she scolded herself, hand still on the bassinet. Naturally Dora would feel that way. In the meantime, her job was simply to help out—

“Sarah?” Dora’s oldest girl, Ruth, hung over the banister, her face pinched. “Mammi says komm schnell. Komm!”

Her breath catching, Sarah hurried up the stairs and into the bedroom. Dora, on all fours on the bed, was pushing, her husband’s hand covering hers. He looked as intent as she did. And Emma . . .

Emma should have been standing ready to ease the baby’s passage into the world. Instead she sat on the edge of the bed, frowning a little as if wondering what she was doing there.

A fist seemed to clutch Sarah’s heart. Something was wrong—something was very wrong with Emma.

But Dora’s baby was crowning. First things first. She must focus on that. Gently she moved Aunt Emma to the rocking chair. Emma sat, docile as a child, her hands limp in her lap.

“Sarah,” Dora gasped her name, eyes wide. “Emma, she—” Another contraction seized her, cutting off the words.

“Everything is all right. We’ll take care of my aunt. Don’t fret, now. This little one is almost ready to be in your arms.” She bent over, her touch gentle. “The head is right here. Another push or two should do it.”

“They always pop right out,” Dora gasped. “This one, too.”

“Sure will,” she soothed, massaging to ease the passage of the baby’s head. And indeed, Dora knew what she was talking about. One more push, and the baby slipped into Sarah’s waiting hands.

“A fine big girl,” she said over the wails of the newborn. She suctioned the baby’s mouth quickly and wrapped her in the warm blanket that lay ready. “Ach, look how beautiful she is.”

For one precious moment she held new life in her arms, cherishing the soft bundle, hating to let go. This was why she was a midwife—this indescribable moment of seeing a child into the world.

She put the babe into Dora’s waiting arms. Love and wonder transformed Dora’s features, wiping away the fatigue. Eli bent close, his eyes wet with tears as he touched his daughter’s tiny waving hand. Neither of them would even notice anything else for a while.

Dora put the baby to breast with the ease of long practice, and the infant latched on instantly. Dora obviously wouldn’t need any coaching to breastfeed.

Another contraction, and the afterbirth was out. Sarah checked to be sure there was no tearing and went through the rest of the routine smoothly, talking as if nothing were wrong. But each time she looked at Aunt Emma, the puzzled expression was still on Emma’s face.

Please, dear Father, help her. Show me what to do.
She fought the trickle of panic.

Young Ruth turned into an efficient helper as soon as she knew her mother and the baby were all right. Together she and Sarah made Dora comfortable and changed the bedclothes, and Ruth brought the warm bassinet to put next to the bed.

“Your aunt . . .” The girl gave Emma a sidelong glance. “Is she all right?”

“She will be.”
Please, God.
“I must get her to the doctor as soon as we have your mammi settled.”

Eli, overhearing, nodded. “I’ve sent Daniel to call for someone to drive you already. We’ll be fine. My sister will be here soon to help.”

“Gut. Denke.”

He shook his head. “Thank the gut Lord you were here, too. We will pray for Emma.”

Sarah would be praying, as well. She went to her aunt, wrapping a shawl gently around her. “Aunt Emma?”

Her aunt blinked a little, still frowning. Then recognition seemed to come back into her face. “Dora. The baby.” She started to rise, but Sarah eased her back into the chair.

“It’s all right. Dora and the baby are fine. A little girl.”

“Gut, gut.” Emma pressed her hand against her forehead. “I don’t seem to remember. I feel all ferhoodled.”

“I know.” Sarah put her arm around her aunt’s shoulders, trying to infuse her with warmth and strength. “We’re going to see the doctor. We’ll find out what the problem is.”

Emma pulled away from her, some of the spirit coming back into her face. “I think I can decide for myself if I want to see a doctor.”

The words bore an odd echo of Molly, saying that she would decide for herself how her baby was to be born. Molly was entering a new phase in her life, just as it seemed Aunt Emma was leaving one.

“Aunt Emma.” Sarah knelt by the chair, taking both her aunt’s hands in hers, holding her gaze by the force of will. “You seemed to black out right when Dora’s baby was coming. If I hadn’t been here, there’d have been no one to catch her.”

“I don’t—”

Sarah tightened her grip. “People depend on you, Aunt Emma. You can’t let them down. You must let the doctor help you to be well again.”

For a moment Emma held out. And then the lost look returned to her face. “Will I?”

Sarah took a shaky breath, knowing she couldn’t promise. “I hope so. I pray so.”