The Christmas Quilt: Quilts of Love Series (19 page)

She didn’t though.

Instead, she made it to the kitchen, stopped at the icebox where they kept bottled water, and there she sank to the floor. Before I could reach her, Sophia broke away from me. She climbed in her lap, handed her the blankie, and said, “Here, Hailey. Take it.”

Hailey stared at the small square of cloth, as if she were seeing it for the first time, but Sophia was working her sister’s fingers around it, showing her how to clutch it. Finally when Sophia was sure the blankie wouldn’t drop to the floor, she took her two small, chubby hands and placed them on each side of Hailey’s face. “It’s
gut. Ya?
”

She said it the Amish way, plain and simple.

I’m telling you there was so much kindness in that child it practically poured from her.

Hailey stared at her for five, six, maybe seven heartbeats. I thought she’d push her off her lap, run to her room, and slam the door again. But instead, she wrapped her arms around Sophia and began to weep.

That’s how her mother found us—all three in the kitchen, sitting on the floor.

The next day, the mother called my
aenti
and said I was ready to take my equivalency exams. She also said I wouldn’t need to pick up Sophia anymore and she’d pay through the end of the week since my job was ending so abruptly.

I saw them once though. A week later, I was walking from the grocery store, and I saw Hailey, walking home with Sophia. They were holding hands and Sophia was still carrying her blankie.

“What happened?” Leah asked. She could practically see the two girls and the younger Annie. “What caused it? People don’t change easily, especially teenagers—whether they’re Amish or
Englisch
. It’s a stubborn age.”

“True.
Aenti
learned through some neighbors that there had been a car wreck at lunch that day. The accident seriously injured three siblings, including a teen and two younger children. I suppose it woke Hailey up, caused her to appreciate the family she had.”

“But Sophia didn’t need waking up.”

“
Nein.
” Annie stored her quilting supplies as the hands on the clock moved toward midnight. “I think Sophia is one of those souls who understands the value of each day. She seemed born awake and born to kindness.”

Leah didn’t protest when Annie rearranged her pillows and encouraged her to close her eyes. The story had caused her to feel sleepy again. As Annie turned off her lamp, leaving a mere sliver of light from the bathroom, Leah wondered if her mind would dwell on the tragedy in the story—on the three who had been injured. Had they recovered? Or had they died? She had heard her own
mamm
say when a young person died in their own community, “
Her life was
complete.” Her parents and her faith had taught her to view death not as a tragedy, but as a passing to something better, something glorious.

So her mind passed over that part of the story and focused instead on Sophia. As she fell into a restful slumber, her subconscious did what it was good at—combined pieces of her day together, so Sophia was wearing the purple dress that Annie had been sewing and Annie was wearing the lavender apron. When Sophia and her sister were walking through a field and Sophia dropped her blanket, it seemed fitting that Dr. Kamal stooped, picked it up, and handed it to them.

In his soft, melodic voice, he blessed both girls. “May His goodness and grace be with you both for now and evermore.”

And with those words still echoing in her heart, Leah woke to the dawn’s light shining through her hospital window on the day her children would be born.

21

A
nnie stood close to Leah’s bed as both Dr. Kamal and Dr.
Reese entered the room Tuesday morning. She had a good idea what they were about to say, and she’d done her best to prepare Leah without coming out and guessing they were going to deliver the babies in the next few hours. The monitors pretty much told it all. Even with the medicines pumping through Leah’s IV, her blood pressure was not what Annie would have liked to see. The bigger question was, why was it remaining high?

It didn’t take Dr. Reese long to move past the pleasantries and into their plan for the day.

“Your blood pressure isn’t settling down as we’d like.”

“Is it something I’ve done?”

“Not at all. More than likely the placenta is stressed, attempting to pull from the wall as your infants continue to grow. Because of this, we’d like to deliver the babies, Leah, by cesarean section.”

Leah reached for Annie’s hand and twined their fingers together. They’d discussed this possibility an hour before, but hearing it from her doctor, well, Annie knew hearing it would be different.

“I’d hoped it might still be possible to have a normal birth, but it seems nothing about these two
bopplin
is destined to be normal.”

Dr. Kamal’s smile revealed a row of perfect white teeth, as well as the fact that he was completely at ease with what lay ahead. “And this will be your first but not your last lesson that children have their own minds, yes?”

He placed his hands on her stomach as he had done so many times since Leah had arrived. “My colleague, Dr. Reese, will make her incision and lift these precious gifts out of your stomach, out of your womb. Then she will hand them over to me, Leah. You will be awake. You will hear their cry of greeting. It may sound like the mewling of a kitten rather than the bawl of a calf, if you’ll excuse my animal analogies. I anticipate they will be small babies—tinier than what you are used to seeing in your community.”

“How small?”

“Maybe five or six pounds. Could be more or less, but your last ultrasound indicates this range, which is good. It’s a healthy weight.”

“And their lungs?” Leah glanced at Annie. “You were worried about their lungs when I first arrived.”

“We have given them extra time. Now they should be developed enough to breathe on their own, though I suspect we’ll want to give them a little time in an incubator.”

The room grew silent as all of the details sank in.

Leah’s final question wasn’t about the babies or about herself, it was about Adam. “Can we wait long enough for my husband to arrive?”

Dr. Reese’s and Dr. Kamal’s eyes met. Annie could have imagined it, but it seemed they might have discussed this earlier.

“We were hoping that four o’clock this afternoon would work for you. It seems we both have full schedules until then.”

Leah closed her eyes, took in a deep breath, and nodded. “Four would be
gut
.”

Annie noticed she didn’t ask any questions about the actual surgery or her recovery period. Her
schweschder
had matured a lot from the young woman who was huddled on the bathroom floor two weeks ago.

The doctors had left the room, and Annie pulled up her chair. She handed Leah a cup of water, and then explained to her about the length of the incision, the type of anesthesia she would have, and what the weeks of recovery would be like. No doubt others would be in later to go over the same information, but she wanted Leah to have time to digest what was ahead.

Leah listened closely, asked a few questions, and then they prayed together for the children, the doctors, and Leah and Adam. When they finished, the clock had finally inched its way to ten o’clock.

So Annie picked up the phone, and put through the call to Samuel.

It was after lunch when there was a light tap on their door. Much too early for it to be Adam and Samuel. Leah had been attempting to nap, but without any success. Annie had been working on the quilt, an Overall Sam—purple-colored shirt, blue suspenders, blue pants, and black hat. She had thought about offering a story, a story about goodness, but Leah had seemed to prefer the quiet.

At the tap on the door, a woman peeked inside. She looked vaguely familiar, but Annie couldn’t place her.

“Excuse me. I don’t mean to interrupt.”

“It’s all right,” Leah said.

The woman stepped farther into the room, and that was when Annie saw the boy behind her. There was no mistaking who he was. Her mind had travelled back to her days at Mercy too often, and then there were the letters they had exchanged regularly.

“Annie!”

Before she could store her quilting, he had hurled himself across the room and into her arms. She closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of him. There had been many patients under her care while she worked on the children’s floor, but none she had grown as close to as Kiptyn.

“You have grown.”

“I know. I’m not a
boppli
anymore.”

He stood straight, and she was surprised to see not only that he had grown but that his color was good and he bore no resemblance at all to a cancer patient. There was no doubt about it though—he was the same boy, with the same eyes that missed nothing, and the same smile ready to pop at the smallest thing.

“This is Kiptyn?” Leah asked.

“
Ya
and his mother, Nadine.”

“It’s
gut
to meet you.” I’m Leah, Annie’s
schweschder
. Leah struggled to sit up straighter in the bed and Annie moved to hand her the controls.

“I hope this isn’t a bad time.” Nadine glanced from Leah to Annie and then at Kiptyn.

“
Nein.
” Leah tried to wave her left hand, but found the IV had caught in the bed rail.

“I can help you,” Kiptyn said. “I had lots of IVs when I stayed here. Got real good at tangling and untangling them. Wait—you would say real
gut
at tangling and untangling them!”

He grinned as he freed the IV from where it had snagged.

“
Danki
, Kiptyn.”

“
Gem gschehne
.”

Annie clapped her hands. “You’ve remembered all the words I taught you while I was here.”

“And the ones in our letters.”

“How old are you, Kiptyn?” Leah asked.

“I’ll be twelve soon. Mom says I’ll outgrow her before I’m thirteen.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised. Your dad’s quite tall and it seems you do take after him.” Nadine smiled at her son. She reached out to touch his hair, but he ducked away.

“What’s with the long hair, Kiptyn? Last time I saw you . . .” Annie rubbed her hand on the top of her
kapp
. “It was shiny up there.”

Kiptyn laughed and the sound did more to heal the lonely corners of Leah’s room than anything could have. His hand travelled down his head, down the hair fastened into a ponytail in the back. “It grows fast now. I cut it once a year, and you know . . . donate it to other kids.”

“Locks of Love,” his mother explained. “They make hairpieces for children who can’t afford them otherwise.”

“That’s
wunderbaar
, Kiptyn.”

“You taught me that word in our letters.” Kiptyn smiled again, then focused on Leah. “You’re here because of your babies?”

Leah nodded.

“Are they okay?”

“
Ya. Danki
for asking.”

“My mom and dad only have me,” Kiptyn said, suddenly serious. “It’s the three of us, so we’ve vowed to look out for each other. You know?”

“I do.” Leah’s voice was soft and smooth. Annie could tell that she’d fallen under Kiptyn’s spell. But then, who could resist? The boy had a way about him. Perhaps it was his open honesty or . . .

“We should be going.” Nadine hugged her, hesitated a moment, then added, “We happened to be visiting a patient on the old floor this morning. They told us you were here. I hope it was okay to stop by.”

“It was more than okay.”

Kiptyn held up his hand, and rolled his eyes when she shook her head in confusion. “You’re supposed to high-five it, Annie. You know. Slap it.”

So she did, and it earned her an extra smile.

“I still have the wooden horse
Onkel
Eli sent me. Tell him. Will you?”

“I will.”

“We’ll be praying for you and your babies, Leah.” Nadine put her hand to Kiptyn’s back to usher him out of the room.

As he reached the door, he turned, waved good-bye, and Annie saw again the young boy she had cared for.

She sat back down, intending to resume her quilting. Instead she stared at the square she’d been sewing.

“Goodness,” Leah said.

“What?”

“
Goodness
was our next gift from the scripture in Galatians, and our next story.”

“
Ya
. . .”

“But this time
Gotte
sent our story. He sent Kiptyn to visit.”

Adam practically jumped out of the car before it came to a stop. It was a good thing he’d been to Mercy Hospital before. He knew the way to the information desk, even if he didn’t remember the way to Leah’s room.

What was he thinking? She wasn’t in her room. She was having their babies—right now!

The volunteers at the information desk had apparently been waiting for him. It seemed Annie had called down and alerted them he would be showing up and hurrying to make the birth. But it didn’t account for the fact they knew who he was as he dashed up to the desk.

Certainly, there was more than one Amish farmer in the hospital. More than one Amish farmer, expecting children in minutes . . . or had they already arrived?

“Right this way. I’ll take you to be scrubbed in.”

What did that mean?

He didn’t waste any time asking questions, or waiting to see if the rest of his family was behind him. They’d find their way. Leah needed him now!

Within fifteen minutes, he’d removed his coat and covered his clothes with the surgical gown. He’d also scrubbed his hands and donned a mask over his face and a cap over his hair. It would be a miracle if Leah even recognized him.

A nurse pushed open the doors to the operating room, and his senses were overwhelmed—lights, antiseptic smells, blades on a tray, the beep of countless machines. He felt the familiar nausea, like he’d experienced in Lewistown, but then he heard a voice. One he’d longed to hear, and in person, not over a phone line.

“Adam? Annie, is that Adam?”

“I think it is, though he’s scoured clean and looking dapper in those green scrubs.”

He saw his sister’s eyes first, on the other side of a partition, and his feet carried him there. When his gaze landed on Leah, his beautiful, precious Leah, all thoughts of fainting fled.

Adam grabbed her hand and sank onto the stool that Annie rolled his way at the last second.

“Am I too late?”

“
Nein.
I knew you would make it. I told Dr. Kamal you would find a way.”

“Everyone’s here? Excellent.” A woman, the one he had met when they’d first admitted Leah, the one he’d entrusted Leah’s care to, peeked over the drape separating Leah and Adam and Annie from Leah’s stomach.

“It seems we have one too many family members, but since one is a nurse, I suppose we can allow it. Are you ready, Leah?”

“
Ya.
”

“Adam?”

“Yes.
Danki
for waiting.”

Dr. Reese’s eyes smiled over her mask. “We didn’t wait. Our last delivery ran a little longer. Seems these babies wanted their dad present.”

Adam felt something surge in his heart. This was happening. Suddenly it didn’t matter this birth was taking place in Philadelphia instead of in their home. He was no longer afraid of fainting. He knew he’d stay strong and remain at Leah’s side. He knew, without any doubt, that God had prepared him for this moment.

“I love you, Leah.”

“And I love you, Adam.”

“Soon it will be four of us.” His throat felt as if he’d swallowed one of his mother’s large biscuits whole, and he was glad the doctor began describing what she was doing. Not that he listened to her exact words. It was background music to Annie’s whispered prayers. Before it seemed possible, Dr. Kamal was speaking. His voice calmed the hammering of Adam’s heart. His voice was strong and filled with joy and certainty, like those of the men singing at a church meeting. It sounded to Adam like the voice of an angel. “We have a fine baby boy here.”