Sarah's Gift (12 page)

“Mrs. Mast. The midwife.” He said the word as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. She had to remind herself that he undoubtedly wanted what he thought was best for his patients.

She nodded. “We met at the clinic.”

Ignoring the reminder, he waved a hand toward the chair across the desk from his seat. “Sit down.”

She took the chair he indicated, tension rising. He would, she thought, not make this easy. “You may know that my aunt, Emma Stoltzfus, has been midwife to the Amish of Pleasant Valley for many years. I have recently come to join her.”

“I’ve heard.” His lips tightened. “What brings you to see me?”

She took a breath, organizing her thoughts. “Before I came here, I was in a group practice in Ohio. We were fortunate enough to work with a local doctor who was sympathetic to home births—”

He cut her off with an abrupt gesture. “I don’t know what you were used to there, but here in Pennsylvania, only registered nurse-midwives are recognized. Obviously you’re not that, and even if you were, I would still say that the proper place for a woman to give birth is in a hospital with qualified medical personnel in attendance.” His face had reddened as he spoke, and he clutched the pen in his hand so tightly she thought it might snap.

“I understand your position,” she said, trying to keep her tone even. “I wouldn’t ask, but Rosemary Welch has requested that I speak with you. She would like to have a midwife-attended birth, and she hoped we might work together to make that happen.”

The pen snapped, pieces flying across the desk. Dr. Mitchell shoved his chair back, shooting to his feet.

“Understand this. I would never allow a patient of mine to be treated by an ignorant, untrained woman whose only claim to know anything comes from an apprenticeship to someone who knows as little as she does.”

“Dr. Mitchell, lay midwives are accepted—”

He pointed to the door. “I don’t have anything more to say. If you ever go near one of my patients again, I’ll have the law on you. Now get out of my office.”

Aaron
stayed on after he sent Nathan and Benjamin home, tinkering with the latch on a cabinet door. He had to talk to Sarah. According to Emma, Sarah had an errand in town but would be back soon. He’d wait.

He checked the latch again, opening and closing the door several times, as if his world depended upon it working smoothly. The new rooms were nearly done. Sarah could start moving furniture into them in a day or two. Then it just remained to put up the telephone shanty, and there’d be no reason for him to see much of Sarah.

Good. It was past time to put some distance between them, especially after what had happened last night.

He took a cloth and began wiping down the door that Benj had sanded. It wasn’t, he supposed, really fair to blame Sarah for Molly’s decision to have a midwife. Molly had decided, and Molly was as stubborn—well, as stubborn as he was.

After everyone had gone home he’d tried to talk some sense into his sister. Molly had listened patiently to all he’d had to say, but that didn’t change anything. She wanted Sarah to deliver her baby.

He realized he was rubbing the door hard enough to take another layer of wood off it. Molly wanted him to forget about Mammi. She expected that he’d go through that again . . .

He steered his thoughts carefully away from that direction. He couldn’t give Molly orders anymore. And he couldn’t persuade her. The only other choice was to get Sarah to back out.

How likely was that? Probably not very likely. Sarah gave an impression of quiet, of gentleness, but on some subjects she could be steel. He had a feeling this was one of them.

He heard the sound of a car in the lane, and his fingers tightened on the soft rag he held. Sarah must be home.

The car stopped; the car door closed. He heard her light voice thanking Ben, the Englischer who drove folks to places they couldn’t go easily by buggy.

In a moment the back door to the house shut. He could hear a murmur of voices in the kitchen, probably Emma telling her that he wanted a word. The door opened, and she came in.

The careful speech he’d been rehearsing vanished from his mind at the sight of her. Most people might not notice, but he’d seen enough of Sarah in recent weeks to recognize the strain that pressed lines around her eyes and tightened her lips.

“Was ist letz?”

Her startled gaze met his. “What makes you think something is wrong?”

“I know,” he said simply. Right or wrong, he couldn’t deny that he knew. And he cared.

She put one hand up to rub her temple, as if her head ached. “I had to go and see the new doctor in town. It didn’t go well.”

“The doctor . . .” Concern clutched his heart. “Are you ill?”

“Ach, no, nothing like that. An Englisch friend of Anna’s wanted me to ask Dr. Mitchell if he would be willing to cooperate with me in giving her a home birth. He was not open to the idea.”

“I’ve heard that he doesn’t approve of midwives.” And when he’d heard it, he’d agreed with the doctor, sight unseen.

“ ‘Doesn’t approve’ is a mild way of putting it. He wouldn’t even listen to what I’ve done before.”

Sarah paced to the window and back again, and Aaron suspected that she’d forgotten who she was talking to. She just needed to release her frustration.

“Our practice in Ohio often worked with a physician in just such circumstances, but Dr. Mitchell wouldn’t listen to me. He practically threw me out of his office.”

Aaron couldn’t repress a spasm of anger at the man for his rudeness. “Sarah, you must be careful. You can’t make an enemy of someone like him.”

She focused on him then, and her chin came up slightly. “I must do what is best for my clients.”

That touched a match to his worry for Molly. “I suppose that’s what you are telling yourself about my sister.”

She blinked at the change of subject. “Molly asked me to deliver her baby. I didn’t go to her. Besides, she didn’t come today. I thought that meant you’d talked her out of it.”

“I tried.” He plunged on, not wanting to see the pain in her eyes. “You must know why I tried. But Molly is stubborn as the day is long. She kept saying it’s her decision.”

“Isn’t it?” She gazed directly at him, a challenge in those green eyes.

He shook his head, trying to shake off his suspicion that she was right. He turned away, because this would be easier if he didn’t have to look at her.

“Sixteen years ago my mother died because she wanted a midwife.” He turned back to her. “Your aunt. Do you think I have forgotten that? Could ever forget that?”

“Aaron, you can’t know—”

He spun and grabbed her hands, willing her to stop. “That morning she was laughing, joking about how soon the baby would come and whether it would be a boy or a girl.” The memory came back, as vivid as if it had happened yesterday. “She put her hand on my face. She said she knew I’d be the best big brother, whether it was a boy or a girl.” His voice broke, and he thought his heart was breaking, too. “By the next morning she was gone.”

“I’m so sorry.” Sarah put her hands on his arms, and he could feel the care flowing from her, through her hands into his very skin, it seemed.

Into his heart.

He looked at her, feeling as if he were sinking into the softness of her eyes. So much caring. So much gentleness.

He lifted his hand, almost before the thought formed. Touched her cheek, finding the skin just as soft as he’d imagined. Her gaze was startled, aware, her eyes darkening as she gazed at him. Her lips parted on a breath. He bent toward her, drawn irresistibly closer. He wanted, he needed . . .

No. He couldn’t. He took a step back, shaken at what he’d almost done, and saw the same reaction in her face.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have . . .”

She shook her head. “Don’t blame yourself. It was my fault, too.”

“I have feelings for you, Sarah.” He took another step back. “That does not change anything. Molly is still—” He hesitated.

“What about Molly?” Her voice was strained.

The sound hurt him. But he couldn’t let it hold him back.

“Molly won’t change her mind. But you can refuse to accept her.”

Sarah grew pale, her eyes wide in a strained face. “I can’t do that.”

He stood for a moment. Waiting. Hoping. But she didn’t speak.

“Then we don’t have anything to talk about.” He grabbed his coat and strode out, away from her.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

T
he
work frolic and grocery shower at the home of Eli and Dora Schmidt was in full swing by the time Sarah arrived on Saturday. She’d hoped to convince Aunt Emma to come, feeling the outing would do her good, but without success.

Handing the buggy over to one of the young boys who was responsible for taking care of them, Sarah carried her heavy grocery bags into the kitchen.

The room was filled with an assortment of women and children, the women talking as they scrubbed down cabinets, the children either clinging to their skirts or playing with a box of blocks in the corner.

Sarah felt instantly at home. The grocery shower was an institution, held whenever one of the Leit suffered from financial problems. Each new arrival would bring bags filled with groceries, until the family had enough to carry them through the crisis.

Eli had broken his arm while trying to repair his barn roof right after Dora had given birth, so a work frolic was a fine way to clean Dora’s house, finish the repairs Eli had been making to his barn, and enjoy being together, all at the same time.

Ruth, Dora’s oldest daughter, relieved Sarah of the bags, greeting her with a warm smile. “Denke, Sarah. It is so gut of you.”

“This is from my aunt, also. Two loaves of her applesauce bread are on the top.”

“That is so kind of her. And of you.” Dora slipped away from the knot of women to embrace Sarah. “How is she? I have been praying for her.”

Was it her imagination, or did the chatter quiet now, as if everyone wanted to hear her answer?

“She is doing a little better now. I’ll tell her you asked about her. Now tell me how that beautiful baby is doing.”

It wasn’t that she wanted to hide the truth, but given the way talk went around the Amish community, she didn’t want to say anything that might be blown out of proportion by busy tongues.

“Ach, she’s a gut baby, chust like all the rest. She eats, she sleeps, she wets.” Dora beamed. “She is sleeping now, but she’ll be up for a feeding before long, so you can see her then. You’re staying, aren’t you?”

“Ja, just put me to work.” Sarah handed Ruth her coat and bonnet.

“Komm, join us.” Leah Glick lifted a stack of plates down from a cabinet shelf. “We can use an extra pair of hands.”

“For sure.” Anna added her voice to her sister’s. “At least we get to work inside, not out in the cold.” She nodded toward the kitchen window.

A group of men clustered around the barn. It didn’t take a second glance for Sarah to recognize Aaron’s tall figure on a ladder. She looked away again quickly.

She hadn’t talked with Aaron since that difficult moment when she’d refused his demand that she not accept Molly as a patient. If he had his way, it would probably be a long time before she spoke to him again.

“If Eli hadn’t been so foolish, trying to do the repairs to the barn roof himself, he wouldn’t have that broken arm.” Dora sounded more than a little exasperated with her spouse. “I told him and told him to hire the Miller brothers for that job, yet nothing would do but that he must try to save money by doing it himself.”

Barbara Beiler looked up from the oven she was scrubbing. “Well, now he’s getting it done free already.”

“I doubt he thought it was a gut exchange for a broken arm,” Anna said, a little tartly.

“Sarah, I think you know most everyone, don’t you?” Leah must be used to intervening tactfully between her sister and sister-in-law. “You know Anna and Barbara, and my other sister-in-law, Myra.”

Sarah nodded, smiling at the young woman. Myra’s brother, Samuel, she reminded herself, was married to Anna. Aunt Emma could detail all the intertwined family relationships back through the generations. Sarah was just beginning to sort some of them out.

“So, Sarah.” Barbara shut the oven door with a satisfied bang. “Are you and Emma ready for all the company you’ll be getting for Second Christmas?”

Silence greeted the words as everyone else seemed to join Sarah in staring at her.

“What?” Barbara’s cheeks flushed. “What’s wrong?”

“That’s supposed to be a secret, remember?” Leah sounded a bit put out with her talkative sister-in-law.

“Ach, I remember that. But chust from Emma, ain’t so?”

“We weren’t going to tell Sarah, either.” Leah gave Sarah an apologetic smile. “But maybe it’s just as well for you to know.”

“Know what?” Nothing to worry about, was it? Second Christmas, the day after the solemn celebration of Christ’s birth, was traditionally a time for visiting with friends and relatives, sharing the joy of the season.

“We thought it sounded as if Emma needed a little pick-me-up,” Leah said. “So we’ve been passing the word for folks to stop by that day, especially anyone whose baby she delivered.”

Barbara chuckled. “That includes most everyone in the valley, I’d say. I’m sorry if I spilled the beans, Sarah. But maybe you’d just as soon know if a houseful of people is coming.”

“I . . . I think that’s best.” She could hardly talk around the lump in her throat. “That is so gut of you.” She clasped Leah’s hand in gratitude.

Leah shook her head. “It was Anna’s idea to begin with. The rest of us have just helped to pass the word. But if you think it will be too much for Emma . . .” She let that trail off, waiting for an answer.

“I think it will be exactly what she needs.” Sarah looked around the kitchen, her heart swelling. “You are all so kind.”

The silence was broken by a wail that seemed to punctuate her words. Soft chuckles came from the women.

“The boppli agrees,” Dora said. She turned as if to go for the infant, but her daughter pushed her gently into the rocking chair.

“I’ll get her, Mammi.” Ruth hurried from the kitchen, and her light steps sounded on the stairs. With plenty of people around to care for a new baby, the little one would never be left to cry. Ruth came back a moment later with a small bundle in her arms.

“Let Sarah see how she’s growing,” Dora said, waving her hand toward Sarah.

Smiling, Ruth put the baby in Sarah’s arms.

Sarah snuggled the small, warm infant close to her. The babe’s redness had faded, leaving her with skin as soft and sweet as a peach. The little one’s hand waved, and then latched onto Sarah’s apron.

Sarah nuzzled the small head, inhaling the scent of baby. The infant responded by turning her head, seeking the milk Sarah couldn’t provide. Her heart seemed to squeeze.

“Ach, Sarah, you should have a houseful of babies of your own,” Barbara said.

There it was—the thing she didn’t want to talk about. But obviously she had to, and maybe it was best to get it over with. “My husband and I were never able to have a baby. We wanted to, but I never got pregnant. The doctors couldn’t find anything wrong, but it just . . . never happened.”

She could sense their feelings—sympathy, curiosity, pity.

“Like my Englisch friend Rosemary,” Anna burst in, obviously trying to spare her any embarrassment. “She and her husband were married for six years with no babies, and just when she’d given up, she’s pregnant.”

“We are so happy for her.” Quiet Myra spoke up, surprising Sarah. “Rosemary has been such a gut neighbor to us.”

Leah nodded. “She mentioned to me that you might be helping with the birth, Sarah.”

No doubt Leah hadn’t intended to put her on the spot, but she had. Sarah took a breath, trying not to picture Dr. Mitchell’s face suffused with anger.

“I’m afraid that didn’t work out. Rosemary hoped I’d be able to cooperate with her doctor, as our practice in Ohio did.” She said the words carefully, mindful that at least one of these women was Dr. Mitchell’s patient. “But the doctor here didn’t wish to do so.”

“Dr. Mitchell says lay midwives are ignorant amateurs who shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near a pregnant woman.” Mary Esch said the words defiantly, putting a protective hand across her belly.

Someone inhaled sharply. Sarah felt as if she’d been slapped. She tried to come up with something, anything, to say that would ease the tension in the room.

Mary looked around the kitchen. “Well, it’s true. That’s what he says. And I’ll have a real doctor deliver my baby, not—”

“Mary.” Leah’s voice held a command. “That is your right, for sure. But you might have a little respect for those of us who don’t share your belief.”

Mary looked abashed for a moment. Obviously she, like many others, held their former teacher in respect. Then she turned away, reaching for her coat. “I’ll be going now. My doctor doesn’t want me to spend too much time on my feet these days.” She swept out of the kitchen, and the door slammed behind her.

“Don’t listen to her,” Anna said quickly. “Mary always has the rough side of her tongue for anyone who doesn’t agree with her.”

“She’s also waited a long time to get pregnant,” Leah said, as if trying to be fair. “I’m sure she’s just speaking out of her concern over being pregnant at her age.”

“You were in your thirties when you got pregnant,” Anna said, her voice tart. “It didn’t turn you into a shrew.”

“Anna, that’s unkind,” Leah chided her sister.

“Well, she wasn’t very kind to Sarah.”

“It’s all right,” Sarah said quickly. “I understand her feeling. Obviously Dr. Mitchell views childbirth as a medical procedure. I don’t agree when it’s a healthy mother and a normal birth, but doctors are invaluable when something goes wrong.”

“Certainly Dr. Brandenmyer does gut work,” Leah said, as if trying to steer the conversation into less controversial territory. “And he approves of midwives. It’s too bad he’s not closer. Anna’s friend could go to him.”

“At least then Sarah wouldn’t cause problems by talking to him,” Barbara said.

Once again she was the recipient of several stern looks from her sisters-in-law.

“Well, it’s true,” Barbara said. “People are talking about Sarah’s visit to Dr. Mitchell.”

Sarah felt as if a pit had opened up at her feet. “I didn’t know.” The words sounded lost, and she tried to make her voice firm. “What are they saying?”

“I’m sure—” Leah began.

Barbara swept on. “Some folks are saying you shouldn’t have caused problems for us with the doctor, and because of an Englisch woman, besides. We’re better off not to get involved.”

For a moment Sarah couldn’t speak. This was one of the risks she’d taken when she’d agreed to see Dr. Mitchell—the risk that her own people might hold it against her.

“I made a promise when I became a midwife,” she said. “A promise always to do my best for every mother and baby. Every one, not just Amish.”

Leah and Anna nodded, obviously agreeing. That was what she’d expect of them. But some of the others didn’t look so supportive.

Her heart sank. She’d been trying to do her duty, but it seemed she’d caused problems instead.

“Ach,
this little one is certainly active.” Sarah held the stethoscope against Molly’s abdomen and watched it bounce at her baby’s vigorous kicking.

Molly laughed, her face lighting with joy. “For sure. Do you think that means it’s a boy?”

“I wouldn’t count on anything from the strength of the kicks,” Sarah cautioned. “I’ve known some pretty lively little girls, haven’t you?”

“Ja.” Molly’s smile didn’t fade, and she pressed her palm against the kick. “There now, little one. I love you just as much whether you’re a boy or a girl. But I do wish you’d let me sleep once in a while.”

“Babies always seem most active when mamms are trying to rest.” Sarah had a piercing wish to feel that for herself. “You know that if it should ever happen that you don’t feel the baby kicking for several hours, you should let me know right away.”

“Ja, the midwife in Indiana said the same.” Molly sighed. “She had a partnership with a doctor there. I wish you had . . .” She flushed. “Well, you know what I mean. It would ease Aaron’s mind, I think.”

“I wish it could be that way, too.” She pushed thoughts of Dr. Mitchell away. “But if you’d feel more comfortable going to a doctor . . .”

“No, no.” Molly clasped her hand in a quick grip. “I know what I want, ain’t so? I was just thinking of Aaron, that’s all.”

“He worries about you. That’s natural.” Sarah tried to keep her voice noncommittal.

“I hope he hasn’t been giving you a hard time about it.” There was a question in Molly’s voice—a question Sarah didn’t intend to answer.

“Everything is fine.” She patted Molly’s shoulder.

There was no point in telling Molly about her worries. She had Aaron angry with her for treating his sister and a sizable portion of the church community unhappy that she’d caused problems with the doctor over an Englischer. Instead of moving the practice forward, she seemed to be losing ground.

But that was not Molly’s worry. “And all is well with you, too. This boppli will be here soon. You have everything ready?”

“Ja.” Molly swung her legs off the bed. “I wish my Jacob could be here for the birth, but he can’t take time off and then spend it sitting around waiting for me to go into labor.”

“It’s hard for you, being apart at a time like this with only letters to share what’s happening.” That seemed to happen too often these days, as young men had to travel farther to find work.

“It is hard.” Molly’s lips trembled a bit. “But this job in Wisconsin will earn him enough money to come back home and settle down for good. We’re going to build a house and stay right here then.”

“I’m glad. And meanwhile you have Aaron and Nathan and Benjamin. That’s probably enough men to have worrying about you.”

“For sure.” Molly’s eyes danced. “One or another of them is always looking at me like they expect me to explode.”

“It’s gut for them,” Sarah said. “They’ll appreciate you more.” She’d almost said they’d appreciate their mammi more, but stopped herself just in time.

Molly nodded, glancing around the birthing room where Sarah had started seeing patients even though it wasn’t completely set up yet. “You know, I think it will be best if I come here for the birth. It might . . . well, save Aaron some worries.”

He wouldn’t have to relive his mammi’s death in the same home, in other words. “Ja, I think that’s a fine idea.”