The Christmas Quilt: Quilts of Love Series (20 page)

Dr. Kamal held the child up, and though he was small and not yet cleaned, he was the most perfect thing Adam had ever seen. His mouth formed a large O, and then he began to cry.

“Oh, Adam—” Leah’s voice was a whisper, a breath against his skin.

“Are you okay?”

“
Ya
, it’s only . . . it seemed my heart stopped when I saw him.”

A nurse accepted the child and carried him to a table close by.

“She’ll return with him soon,” Annie assured them.

Before Adam could recover from the sight of his newborn, a second howl joined the first.

“And we have another. Two sons, Adam and Leah. You have two fine sons, nearly identical in weight, though it seems the latter has more hair than the first.”

Adam looked up over the drape and saw in Dr. Kamal’s hand a near mirror image of the first babe, but this one had a full head of curly hair.

It was a shock for Adam, seeing their boys, seeing Amos and Ben. Yes, they had thought of names, but he hadn’t pictured them, not as actual boys. By the time they’d murmured prayers of thanksgiving and shed their tears, the nurse had placed Amos on the bed next to Leah and Ben within the crook of Adam’s left arm.

How could anything so small be so precious?

How could he be a father worthy of this family?

He couldn’t, but he would try. With God’s help he would do his best. He made the vow as Leah trailed her finger down Amos’ face and ran her hand over the top of his head, which had brown fuzz instead of his brother’s curls.

“We’ve been blessed, Adam.”

“That we have. Something we’ll need to remind each other of when they let the cow out of the pasture or slip out of school early on a spring afternoon.”

“My boys would never do that!” Tears coursed down Leah’s cheeks, even as she laughed.

“They are Adam’s sons as well,” Annie reminded her.

“A blessing for certain, and it will be years before such pranks.”

Annie reached for Ben, and Adam carefully picked up Amos.

“For now, they are my sweet babes.”

Adam couldn’t argue with that. He’d been given many gifts—faith, love, and family.

He couldn’t help wondering how old they’d need to be before they could ride with him behind the big workhorses. Probably best if he didn’t bring that up at the moment.

22

W
hen Annie had walked out of the surgery room and into Samuel’s arms, she thought she might collapse. It wasn’t from exhaustion, though she was tired. No, it was sheer relief at seeing, smelling, and being with her husband again.

Perhaps she had blocked from her mind how much she had missed him. He held her in his arms, not saying a word, but with their child pressed between them. Annie was sure she could stand there forever.

Samuel finally insisted she sit down.

Sitting now in her room at Vickie’s boarding house, sitting alone, a small part of her wanted to put her head down and weep. How had she ever stood being away from home for years?

Home was where she belonged.

They had spent almost twenty-four hours together. Her mother, dad, Samuel, Adam, even Reba and Charity had managed to fit in the van Belinda had borrowed. They’d slept in shifts, walking the blocks to her room at the boarding house, bringing food back to those still in the waiting room, then switching places. Annie had been afraid to close her eyes, afraid Leah would need her or Samuel would disappear.

“You’ve been a
gut schweschder
,” he’d whispered before he’d climbed back into the van. “And you’ll be home soon.”

“
Ya.
Maybe this weekend.” She’d swallowed the tears threatening to spoil their parting.

Four more days. Dr. Reese and Dr. Kamal had both agreed it was possible the babies would be ready to go home Saturday. Leah was doing wonderfully well.

As the van had pulled away, a deep weariness had settled over her and she’d wondered if she’d be able to walk back into the hospital. Foster saved her when he stepped outside on his break.

“Leah’s asleep, honey. She said to tell you to go get some rest.”

“But—”

“No buts. You look as if you’re going to drop in the street. We’ll look after her, Annie. Trust us.”

It was those last words—
trust us
—that had sent her home, leaving her quilting bag in Leah’s room. So now she sat at the small desk, staring at her Bible, at Paul’s letter to the Galatians in particular, and wondering if she would ever be able to sleep. So many thoughts were going through her mind. So many questions and worries.

Amos had needed oxygen twice today.

Ben’s temperature had dipped once.

Should she have encouraged Adam to stay as he’d wanted to? But four days confined in the hospital would have seemed like an eternity with Adam pacing and trying to be helpful. At least at home he could prepare for their arrival.

She glanced down at the words in front of her, “Be guided by the Spirit . . .”

Pulling the
kapp
and pins from her head, she ran her fingers through her hair, releasing her doubts and worries as she did so. God had cared for Leah while she carried Amos and Ben. He’d seen she was in the right place when she needed doctors around her. He’d sent kind and compassionate nurses to care for her.

“If we live by the Spirit, let’s follow the Spirit.” Placing her hands on her stomach, she felt her babe move, kick once, then resettle.

Foster had been right. She needed to rest. It was important to care for her child and listen to the symptoms of fatigue when they overwhelmed her—before they overwhelmed her. Marking the page in her Bible with a slip of paper, she dimmed the light and prepared for bed.

Amos had
only
needed oxygen twice today.

Ben’s temperature had
only
dipped once.

The babies were growing stronger by the hour, and Leah was healing quickly.

Samuel was correct, soon they would be home.

Leah was surprised when Annie walked into her room so early the next morning. Penny had started her nursing shift and checked on her already, but the aides hadn’t yet brought breakfast. As Annie pushed open the door to the room, Leah was walking from the bathroom back to her bed.

“You’re up and walking early,” she exclaimed.

“I’m still slow, but actually the muscles feel less sore if I move around a little every few hours.”

“That’s
gut
, Leah. It’s what you’re supposed to do, but a lot of patients resist.”

“Resistance is futile, or so Foster and Penny tell me.” Leah couldn’t have stopped the smile spreading across her face. She realized she was going to miss the staff here at Mercy. She’d grown closer to them than she would ever have imagined. “You look rested.”

“
Ya.
I did sleep well. How are my nephews?”

“Hungry. They nurse often, every three hours, but they are so precious, Annie.”

“Yes, they are. You’re going to need to nap in between feedings.”

“No worries there.” Leah sat on the bed, swinging her feet. “I pass out as soon as I’m finished feeding them. What if I do that at home? Here it’s okay. There are nurses everywhere, but at home—”

“At home you’ll have Adam to help. Yes, you’ll both be walking around in a daze for a while, but you nap when you can. Don’t worry that you won’t wake when they cry. I heard both of their lungs when they were born, Leah. No mewling kittens as Dr. Kamal feared.”

“More like roaring lions.”

“Did I hear there were lions in this room?” Penny walked in with a tray full of food.

Leah felt her stomach growl, her stomach that was still entirely too large. “I’ll never lose this baby weight if I keep eating all that you bring.”

Both Annie and Penny shook their heads.

“I know. I know. Eat for the babies.”

“Nursing moms do not need to worry about losing weight,” Penny reminded her. “You need your strength and you need your liquids.”

Annie picked up the refrain. “And we don’t worry about weight, unless it’s a health issue, which it’s not in your case. It would be prideful to focus too much on what you weigh. You are as you should be, not to mention Adam adores you.”

Leah sighed as she felt herself give in to their logic. She couldn’t resist because she knew they were both right, plus the food smelled pretty good—not as good as her own cooking, but not bad. She raised the lid that covered her breakfast. “Yum. Bacon for once. Share with me, Annie?”

“Oh, no. Vickie fed me before I walked over.”

Unfortunately, Leah’s positive feelings didn’t last. An hour later she started worrying again. What if the babies weren’t able to go home on Saturday? She would probably move to Annie’s room on Friday. How long could they stay at the boarding house? She didn’t want to go there. She didn’t want to be separated from her sons by half a mile. She didn’t want to be separated at all. She needed to be close in case they needed her. They would need her. They nursed every three hours!

“You’re frowning again,” Annie said, pulling her needle and thread through another of the Dutch boy squares.

“
Ya.
I know.”

“Worrying?”

“I suppose.”

She appreciated the fact Annie didn’t try to talk her out of it, and she didn’t even attempt to list all the things she was fretting over—they were so obvious. Not to mention she was tired of sitting in the bed, tired of this room, and when she’d sneezed earlier she was sure her incision had ripped open. It hadn’t. Annie had helped her check.

This day felt like it would never end.

“Now your frown looks like
dat’s
when he’s unhappy about the weather.”

“I’ve never seen your
dat
frown.”

“Do you remember the drought before I left on my
rumspringa
?”

“I was young.”

“
Ya
, definitely not engaged to Adam yet. The drought didn’t last long, but it was extreme enough to threaten that year’s crops. Oh, how
dat
would pace and frown, as if he could bring rain from the sky. I can still remember
mamm
telling him to trust in
Gotte’s
faithfulness.
Dat
would stare at her, then traipse back out to the barn.”

Leah shook her head. “You’re making that up.”

“I’m not. We children made ourselves scarce that year. Things were tense in the house.”

Silence filled the room as Annie continued to sew, and Leah pictured Rebekah and Jacob. She’d spoken to her own family once since Amos and Ben were born—they’d called from a phone shack near their home. She’d promised to write regularly about both boys’ progress. Rebekah and Jacob had traveled in the van though, and slept in the chairs in the waiting room. They were precious to her.

“How did it end?” Leah asked.

“With rain, as droughts always end.”

Leah sighed. “There’s so much to worry about, Annie. I didn’t know being a
mamm
would include so much . . . well, so much fear!”

Annie completed the stitching around the Dutch boy’s bright blue shirt and dark blue pants. “I suppose there is, but
Gotte
is always faithful.
Ya?
”

A smile tugged at the corner of Leah’s lips, in spite of her determination to hold on to her pout. “I suppose.”

“He was faithful when he brought me home to Mifflin County.”

Leah stared out the window. A light snow covered the tall buildings and even the tiny parked cars below. “He was faithful when He brought me and Adam together at the singing after church when I was seventeen. I rarely went to singings.”

Annie laughed. “Adam never went to singings. He sings like an old bull.”

Someone passed in the hall. The soft shoes squeaked on the linoleum floor, echoing until the sound faded away. “He was faithful when He gave me two sons. There are some women in our community who have none.”

Annie nodded. “
Ya
, and I know that
Gotte
fills their home too—with nieces and nephews . . .”

“And there is that one family in the other district who adopted children from the city.
Gotte
is faithful, Annie.” Leah’s fears ebbed away as she realized the truth of their testimony.

“He is that.”

“Our list could go on for a very long time.” She snuggled down into her bed.

“Yes, it could.”

“But I believe I’ll rest now. Our list is a
gut
story for your Dutch boy—for the fruit of faithfulness.”

“It’s an excellent story.” Annie stood and closed the blinds so the light that came into the room was somewhat softer. The last thing Leah saw before sleep claimed her was the snow beginning to fall again. Her last thought was to wonder if it was also falling at home.