Rachel's Garden (29 page)

A few more steps brought her to the door. Again she hesitated, this time caught by what she could see inside. The glow of the lantern echoed the glow of the moon, illuminating the stall. Gideon sat, his back against the rough boards, and Joseph leaned against him, his head snuggled into Gideon’s broad chest. The man’s arm curved protectively around his shoulders.

Her throat constricted. Gideon was doing what Ezra would have in this situation. Did he even realize how wonderful gut he was with the children?

Gideon’s attention seemed to sharpen on something out of her line of vision—no doubt Dolly. He moved, Joseph moving with him. As if it had been a signal, she scurried inside.

“Was ist letz? What’s the matter?”

“Time to help her push.” Gideon squatted next to the goat. “Will you?”

She nodded, kneeling in the straw next to him. “Show me what to do.”

“I want to do something.” Joseph’s voice wobbled a little. “Let me.”

“You will hold her head. Your mammi will put her hands here.” He took her hands in his and positioned them against the goat’s warm, smooth side. “When you feel her push, only then, you press along with her. I’ll try to ease the kid out.”

She nodded, breathing a silent, wordless prayer.

Gideon gave Joseph an encouraging smile. “We’ll do our best for her. The rest is in the Lord’s hands.”

Even as he spoke, the goat’s muscles contracted under her hands. Rachel sucked in a breath as if she were in labor as well and began to push.

“That’s it, gut. The kid is in the right position. It won’t be long now.” Gideon had rolled up his sleeves, and he leaned over the animal. “Talk to her, Joseph. Tell her to push.”

“Push, Dolly, push.” Some of the fear eased from Joseph’s face as he concentrated on the goat. “You can do it. I know you can.”

“Come on, Dolly. Come on.” Rachel pressed with her palms, feeling the progress of the contraction. “It’s working.”

“Ja.” Gideon’s glance at Dolly held concern. “Ease off, now. Wait for the next one.”

Did he fear the little goat didn’t have the strength in her to finish the job?

Rachel longed to ask, but didn’t want Joseph to hear the answer. Before she could think of how to phrase it, the next contraction hit, and she was too busy to say anything.

“It’s coming,” Gideon exclaimed, and in a moment the tiny kid, front hooves first, came sliding out onto the feed bag, squirming and messy.

“She did it.” Joseph hugged Dolly’s head. “You did it, Dolly.”

Gideon lifted the baby away a foot or so. “Ja, but I think she has one more to push out. You come and dry this one off, Joseph, while your mammi and I help her.”

The worry in his voice was plain, but fortunately Joseph was too enraptured by the brand-new kid to hear it. He dried the baby off, crooning to it.

Dolly stiffened under her hands, and in what seemed little more than a moment, the second kid arrived. The doe lay back, eyes closing, side heaving with strain.

“Do you think—” Rachel began, studying Gideon’s expression.

Grasping her arm, he turned her toward Joseph and the kids. “You help him with the babies. I’ll tend to Dolly.”

Gideon looked so grave that she feared Joseph could hardly fail to pick up on it, but he didn’t seem to. So Rachel helped him dry the kids, marveling with him at them. It wasn’t hard to keep his attention fixed on the babies instead of the mother.

“We should name them.” Joseph stifled a yawn. “What do you think, Mammi?”

“I think you’ve been up far too long. Say good night to them, now, and get into bed.” She stilled his protest with a gentle touch. “They need to rest, too, and so does Dolly. Go now. I’ll come and check on you when I come in.”

He hugged her and sidled over to Gideon. “Denke, Gideon.” He hesitated a moment, then flung his arms around Gideon’s neck in a throttling hug. “Denke.”

Gideon patted him. “Sleep well.”

Rachel handed him a flashlight. Standing in the barn doorway, she watched the light bob across the lawn, staying there until Joseph was safely into the house. Then she turned back to Gideon.

“Is she going to make it?”

“I don’t know.” He moved one of the kids to Dolly’s head, but she closed her eyes and ignored it. “She’s letting them nurse all right, but she should be cleaning them off and taking a bit of notice of them by now.”

Rachel knelt next to Dolly’s head. “Poor little thing. She’s exhausted. Isn’t there anything we can do?”

“Just wait. Pray.”

“That I’ve been doing already.”

Gideon moved fresh straw around mother and babies. He was limping, she realized as he straightened.

“You’ve been here all day. You should go home and get some rest yourself already.”

“I’ll stay.” He sat down, leaning against the wall again. “You might need me.”

“You’ve already done so much. I don’t know how to thank you.”

“You don’t, that’s all. Joseph is a fine bu, and you should be happy with him. He did a wonderful-gut job tonight.”

“As did you. You would have been a gut father.”

The moment the words were out of her mouth, she remembered, and she wished them back. But it was too late. “I’m sorry. I—”

He touched her arm. “It’s all right. I hope I would have.”

There seemed nothing to say to that. She just hoped he could sense her sympathy.

He drew his knees up, wrapping his arms around them. “When I think about that night, it’s most often the boppli that I think of. He should have had his chance at life.”

Her breath seemed strangled in her throat. Ezra had said that Gideon never spoke of it, not even to him.

“He lives in Heaven,” she whispered.

“Ja.” He stared at the goats, quiet now, but she didn’t think he was seeing them. “It was raining that night. So hard that I could barely see to keep the buggy on the road.” His hands tightened to fists against his legs. “We should have stayed at home and waited for the midwife, but Naomi wouldn’t hear of it. She was so sure something was wrong, so sure that I had to take her to the hospital. If I’d insisted, maybe—”

He stopped, his voice choking.

Rachel’s throat was tight with unshed tears. She knew the rest of the story. The truck, speeding in the driving rain, hitting the buggy, smashing it to pieces. Naomi and the baby dead, Gideon so badly injured that most had thought he’d never recover.

She put her hand tentatively on his shoulder. “Don’t, Gideon. It wasn’t your fault. You only did what Naomi wanted.”

He turned, grabbing her hand in a fierce grip. “I knew it was a bad idea. I should have followed my instincts.”

“Anyone in that situation would have done the same.”

“Would they?” His eyes were dark with pain. “I don’t know that. I just know that they died, and I survived.”

And then Ezra had died, and he had survived again. The pain in Gideon’s soul went so deep—what could Rachel possibly say that would be a balm for that?

Straw rustled. Gideon seemed to choke back a sob as he let her go and turned to the goats. One of the babies was nuzzling at Dolly’s head, pushing her muzzle with an almost angry persistence.

“Ach, let her be.” She reached toward the kid, but Gideon intercepted her, grasping her hand.

“Wait.”

She held her breath, watching. Waiting. The kid bumped Dolly’s muzzle again. The little doe opened her eyes. Wearily, slowly, she moved her head. Looked at her baby. And began to lick him.

“They’re bonding,” she breathed.

“Ja.” Gideon moved the other kid up close, and Dolly licked her, too, seeming to gain strength even as they watched. “I think they’re going to be all right.”

He looked at Rachel then, and she realized that she wasn’t the only one blinking back tears. Gideon’s hand clasped hers again, warm and gentle. Emotion flooded through her.

She cared for him, more than she’d dreamed possible. He meant so much to her.

But the wound he’d revealed to her tonight—perhaps that would never heal. And if it didn’t, how would he ever be able to care again?

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Y
ou
look half-asleep today,” her mother scolded gently the moment she walked in Rachel’s kitchen door the next day. “Were the kinder up sick last night and you all by yourself here?”

Rachel hugged her. “No, nothing like that. Joseph’s goat kidded, and we feared for a time she might not make it. But it ended well, with twin kids to show for a long night.”

“You never should have let Joseph know that pet of his was in danger. The poor boy must have been worried out of his mind.”

Mamm hung her bonnet on the peg and set a container of what looked like whoopie pies on the table.

“I don’t think he realized how bad she was,” Rachel assured her.

Mamm’s eyebrows lifted in a question. “You said ‘we.’ I thought you meant you and Joseph.”

“Gideon Zook was here.” She tucked her packet of pins and her grossmutter’s silver thimble into her bag for the quilting. “Thank the Lord he was. He knew just what to do.”

The questioning look lingered in her mother’s eyes. “He’s a gut man, he is.”

“Ja.” Rachel was afraid to say anything more, afraid of betraying feelings that she didn’t want to examine too closely in herself. “It’s kind of you to watch the little ones while Becky and I go to the quilting.”

Her mother seemed to accept the change in subject. “Ach, you know it’s a pleasure.”

“You’ll probably be chasing them away from the goats all day.”

“Well, and I want to see these little twins, too, so that will be chust fine. Is that where they are now?”

“Joseph and Mary are. Becky is supposed to be getting ready, but it’s taking her a long while.” She went to the hallway and peered up the stairwell, but there was no sign of her daughter. “Becky, come along now. It’s time we were leaving.”

No response, but she heard a drawer close in the girls’ bedroom. Exasperated, she started up the stairs. “Becky, do you hear me?”

She reached the bedroom door to find Becky sitting on the bed, one shoe in her hand, the other on the floor. She had obviously been changing, but she’d come to a standstill.

“Becky, komm. I can’t be late.”

Becky didn’t look up. “Maybe I should stay home today I could help Grossmammi with the little ones.”

That was so out of character for Becky, who always wanted to be on the go, that Rachel could only stand and stare at her for a moment. What was going through the child’s mind?

“I’m sure your grossmutter can manage without you. I thought you’d been looking forward to going. Maybe you can put some stitches in the quilt for Leah’s new baby.”

Becky stared down at the log cabin design that covered her bed, picking at it with her fingers. “I don’t want to go, Mammi. Can’t I stay home?”

“You can’t—”

She caught herself, stopped, and went to sit down on the bed next to her daughter. Something was wrong, and she wouldn’t find out what by giving orders. She schooled herself to patience and tried not to think about being late.

“Komm, tell me what is going on. You always like to go to Daniel and Leah’s.”

Becky hunched her shoulders, not looking at her. “I just don’t feel like it today ”

“Is it because you might be expected to sew? You don’t have to, you know. I just thought you might want to.”

Becky didn’t respond, but her lower lip jutted out.

Rachel caught her daughter’s chin and turned her face so that she could see the expression. Pouting, definitely pouting. Becky’s stubborn streak was making itself known.

“Rebecca, I want an answer now.”

The pout became more pronounced. “I don’t want to play with Elizabeth.”

Rachel blinked. “Not play with Elizabeth? Why ever not? Did the two of you have a spat?”

Becky shook her head, the mulish look intensifying.

“What then?”

For an instant Becky clung to her silence, pressing her lips together. Then she shrugged. “I don’t want to be her friend. She told on me.”

Rachel’s mind produced nothing but a blank slate. Then she realized what the child was talking about. So much had happened since Becky’s misadventure in the barn that it had slid to the back of her mind.

“Let me get this straight. You’re angry with Elizabeth because she ran for help when you were stuck up in the barn.”

Becky flushed, as if she knew how ferhoodled that sounded but wouldn’t admit it. “Ja. She told. Friends shouldn’t tell on you.”

“Becky, you needed help. You couldn’t get down by yourself. If Elizabeth hadn’t gone for help when she did, you might have fallen.”

Rachel stared at her recalcitrant child with dismay. This had been preying on Becky’s mind, and she hadn’t known it.

She put her arm around Becky. Her daughter stiffened, not giving in to the embrace.

“Sometimes it is right to tell. Sometimes that is what a true friend does.” She sucked in a breath, praying that wisdom came with it. “What if Elizabeth had done what you wanted, and you’d fallen? She would have had to live with that for the rest of her life.”

Becky did react to that—a tiny, almost undetectable wince.

“You are holding on to a grudge. You are not forgiving her, even though you know in your heart that she did the right thing.”

The rigid little figure shook suddenly. “I can’t help it! I know I shouldn’t feel this way, Mammi. I don’t want to. Why do I?”

Rachel hugged her, longing to make it better even while she knew there wasn’t an easy solution. Every problem with raising children seemed to come back, in the end, to the teaching of faith.