Abigail's New Hope (7 page)

Abby had debated long into the night about attending Ruth Fisher’s funeral.
Will people hold this young mother’s passing against me? Will Nathan Fisher?
Though she knew in her heart she had done everything she could, most Amish men and some women didn’t understand the risks of home births. Although thousands of babies had been born in Amish bedrooms for hundreds of years, that didn’t negate the risk a woman took not being close to modern medical equipment. In the end, Abby decided she needed to go for her own sense of closure.

After parking at the end of a long row, Daniel helped her down from the buggy. Far more district members had turned out than she’d expected. Because Amish funerals didn’t last very long, no one had unhitched their horses. Abby appreciated the fact that Daniel had made sure their buggy was pointing toward the road should they need to make a hasty exit.

As Abby and Daniel approached the gravesite, six men lifted a plain pine box from the back of the hearse and carried it between the rows of uniform headstones. No flowers marked the graves, nor would any adorn Ruth’s in the future. No wooden crosses, candles, potted plants, or stuffed bears had been left by grieving family members. When the Grabers joined the ring of mourners, the bishop, deacon, and most others nodded in their direction. Some reached over to shake Daniel’s hand and then hers, whispering words of condolence despite the fact she’d never met Ruth before that awful night.

Abby felt a lump rise up her throat when she spotted Nathan Fisher. He stood at the head of the newly dug grave, staring down at the damp, rich loam of freshly turned earth. He held his hat between his large hands, while his bird-sized aunt waited by his side. She was holding a baby, swaddled in a handmade patchwork quilt.

Little Abraham Fisher.

How Abby longed to see his sweet face to be certain he was thriving. She wanted to count his fingers and toes, listen to his tiny heart, and watch life-giving air come and go from his healthy lungs. But she wouldn’t intrude in their private time of sorrow.

Soon the bishop cleared his throat and began reading from the Scriptures. The entire funeral service took less than thirty minutes, including silent prayers for the repose of Ruth’s Christian soul. Songbirds offered unbearably cheerful melodies high in the treetops, while the heavy scent of late rhododendrons and azaleas filled the air. Weather this agreeable didn’t seem fitting for so a somber occasion. Of course, death was simply part of life—no less significant in God’s design than birth. Abby glanced at the elderly English undertaker, looking dignified in his austere black suit. His occupation was the exact omega to her alpha vocation.
Does he enjoy his work as much as I used to?

Daniel took hold of her arm, signaling it was time for them to depart. She uttered one final prayer, and then they started toward the row of buggies.

“Mrs. Graber,” called a voice over her shoulder.

She knew who had hailed before she turned around. Nathan Fisher was striding toward them. Deep lines creased his pale face around his mouth and across his forehead, while dark smudges beneath his eyes spoke volumes about recent sleeplessness.

He halted in front of them, nodding to each in succession. “
Danki
for coming.”

“We are sorry for your loss, Mr. Fisher. This is my
ehemann
, Daniel.” The two men shook hands, and then Nathan crossed his arms over his starched black coat. He shifted his weight from foot to foot and appeared to be choosing his words carefully. If Abby could have vanished and reappeared in almost any other place, she would have done so.

“It was God’s will, but also Ruth’s choice,” he said after a moment. “I wanted you to know you weren’t to blame. There wasn’t anything you could have done even if you had arrived sooner.”

“I know I tried my best,” she whispered as sweat ran beneath her
kapp
and down her neck.

“You say that now because it’s still fresh in your mind. But some night you might lie in bed wondering and second-guessing yourself, and I don’t want that to happen. My Ruth was told by a doctor in Indiana not to bear
kinner
because doing so might kill her. She chose not to listen to her. She thought maybe the doc could be wrong, or maybe God would take pity on her.” He gazed off to the left where the undertaker’s van was pulling onto the paved road. The crunch of gravel sounded unnaturally loud in the silent grove of hawthorn bushes and sycamore trees. “She never told me any of this until she was five months along.”

Abby knew that this pregnancy talk was hard for Nathan, but still he continued for her sake.

“She wanted this baby more than just about anything else…for me and for herself. And once you delivered our son, she was all right with dying. Birthing him was all that mattered to Ruth, and you saved our little Abraham.”

Abby forced herself to swallow and fought back tears. Crying would only make things worse. Nathan’s eyes were also glassy with moisture.

“Don’t get me wrong. She would have loved to watch him grow up, but giving me a son was worth the risk to Ruth. So if anybody should be held responsible here, it’s me.” A muscle in his jaw twitched.

“No one’s at fault, Mr. Fisher,” she said. “We can’t blame ourselves for God’s will, nor should we try to second-guess His plan for us.” Abby felt Daniel’s palm pressing against her lower back. He didn’t like it when she voiced sentiments that should come from the ministerial brethren. But she couldn’t allow this man to suffer unnecessary guilt if she could help it. “She must have loved you very much. Keep that in mind when
you
can’t sleep at night.” Abby shifted her body away from Daniel’s touch.

“I will, and
danki
for coming today—both of you.” He gave his beard a pull, nodded to them, and turned to walk away. Then he stopped short. “Would you like to see him? Little Abraham? He looks fine when his face isn’t scrunched up from a throwing a tantrum.”

Abby laughed, feeling her tension drain away. “I would love to.”

“As long as we keep his belly full, he stays in a fairly pleasant mood,” Nathan added. The three laughed while they walked toward a knot of people talking under the shady trees. Abby recognized Iris Fisher in the center of the group, holding the infant.

Nathan introduced them to his neighbors, most of whom Abby and Daniel already knew from barn raisings and other work frolics. Daniel shook hands with the menfolk while Abby approached Nathan’s aunt.

“
Guder nachmittag
,” Iris greeted. “I suppose you’d like to see the little one.” She held out the bundle for inspection.

“Good afternoon to you.
Jah
, I would love to.” Abby pulled back the edge of the quilt and peered into the dark eyes of Ruth’s newborn son. He grinned at her as though in recognition, which Abby knew to be plain silly. She reached to touch his downy soft hair with near reverence. “Hello, dear boy. You are looking very handsome today.” When emotion began to constrict her throat, Abby stepped back and focused on the buggies by the road. One or two families were loading up to leave, while several horses stamped their hooves with impatience.

“Rest easy, Abby,” said Iris. “Little Abraham is doing fine, and I plan to take good care of him.”

Abby smoothed her palms down her skirt. “I know you will. It was nice to see you again, although I wish it had been under pleasanter circumstances.” She voiced a particularly English expression she’d picked up from Dr. Weller.

“That’s all right. We can’t control circumstances, but at least you were able to see he’s doing well.” She shifted the boy to her other arm. “Why don’t you stop by my son’s house for a bite to eat? He doesn’t live far from here. We have plenty of food.” Iris looked her in the eye and held her gaze. “Do you remember the way?”

Abby considered accepting the invitation. If they attended, she would have a chance to hold the child and be assured he was thriving. And she might find out more about Ruth Fisher, but Daniel squeezed her shoulder.

“
Danki
,” he said, “but we need to get home. Our two
kinner
are at a neighbor’s house and I’m behind on my chores. We are real sorry for your loss.” He nodded at Iris, grasped Abby’s hand, and led her away from the mourners as though she were a child.

She felt oddly annoyed and yet relieved at the same time as they walked back to their buggy without speaking. She didn’t wait for his help to climb inside. With a cluck of his tongue to the horse, the buggy rolled down the dirt lane in between closely packed graves. Once they reached the county road, she said softly, “I don’t see what harm it would have done to stop by the Fishers’.”

“Not a matter of harm,
fraa
, but what good would it have served? You got to see the
boppli
to set your mind at ease, but stopping there would only have prolonged your misery. You need to put this delivery out of your mind and concentrate on the hundreds of successful ones. Folk die. It’s part of life. We might not like it, but upsetting yourself isn’t going to bring her back or change a thing.” He clamped his jaw closed the way he always did when he wished a subject dropped.

Abby swallowed down her reply. Arguing with her husband wouldn’t help matters, and he was probably right. It just didn’t seem so at the moment. She nodded and Daniel slapped the reins against the horse’s back to pick up the pace.

On the way home she concentrated on the green hayfields waiting to be cut and the knee-high stalks of corn standing in neat rows. Sunlight sparkled off the clear blue water of ponds, while hawks wheeled on wind currents overhead, watching for tasty prey to make their lunch. Daniel’s idea about focusing on the hundreds of successful births made sense. She would remember Ruth in her prayers for many nights to come, but her death shouldn’t cripple her ability to serve her community.

“Do we have any leftovers in the fridge?” Daniel’s question broke the long silence. “All that talk about food made me hungry. I’d better eat something before heading to the fields.” He glanced over at her and they both burst out laughing.

“You’re the one who passed up a free meal, Mr. Graber. Now you’re probably stuck with a bowl of soup or a ham sandwich.” She tugged the sleeve of his coat.

“Serves me right for not listening to my smart
fraa
.” He offered a wink as he shrugged out of his coat. With their farm in sight, he would forgo his proper appearance.

“Good gracious, what is going on?” Abby’s attention had focused on a vehicle in their driveway. The sheriff’s cruiser was parked near their barn; its red and blue lights still spinning as the car idled.

“Git up there, Sam!” Daniel slapped the reins once more. “What on earth could the sheriff want at our farm?”

An icy chill pooled in Abby’s belly. “Oh my. I hope nothing’s happened to the
kinner
.” She jumped down before Daniel brought the buggy to a stop and ran toward the cruiser. She saw no one inside or near the vehicle. With her heart slamming against her ribcage, she ran to the barn door and nearly collided with the exiting sheriff and his deputy.

“Easy there, ma’am. No need to knock us down.”

Abby stepped back with fear and confusion. “What’s wrong? Has something happened to my children? They were supposed to be next door at my neighbor’s.” Her voice sounded strangled.

“Your children are fine as far as I know. They’re not why we’re here.” The man swept off his wide-brimmed beige hat and focused on Daniel. He was hurrying toward them with the horse still harnessed to the buggy.

Abby wrung her hands, casting glances between her husband and the sheriff.

The large man, with his belly straining the buttons of his shirt and noonday stubble darkening his chin, cleared his throat. He looked about as comfortable as she felt.

“Ma’am, are you Mrs. Abigail Graber, the midwife of this here Amish community?” He’d assumed a formal tone of voice.

The bottom fell from her stomach, and she suddenly felt weak in the knees. “I am. I’m Abby Graber.”