The Christmas Cradle (14 page)

“I needed to hear your voice, Josiah. I—I love you.”
Click.

Josiah stared at his cell. Not only had Lena declared her love for him, she'd not given him a chance to respond.
What would you have said? After the way you all but told her to hang up, she cut the call short and cut her losses. Who could blame her?

“What happened?” Savilla asked with a frown. “Did you lose your signal?”

Seems the signal's been strong all along and I've not been picking it up
, Josiah thought. But he didn't feel like having that discussion with his sister. “Lena's heading to the house for a nap. They had twenty people there for dinner.”

Savilla's rising eyebrows told him she'd seen through his fib, but she didn't quiz him. She looked around at the packing boxes and the cupboards that were hanging open. “The sooner we finish this pizza, the sooner we can clean out more closets, right?”

It was the best exit line he could hope for. Josiah reached for another slice of the pizza, which was getting greasy as it cooled. He had a lot to think about, yet he sensed that cleaning out closets was a lot like clearing away his former assumptions and misconceptions. Maybe by the time he and Savilla had finished with this house, his soul would be free of clutter, too, so he could move forward with a clean slate—and with Lena.

Friday morning, Lena awoke with a fiery pain gripping her lower back and abdomen. It was still dark, and now that Miriam didn't rise in the wee hours to bake at the café, Lena hated to wake her. She muffled a cry with her pillow when another fierce jolt of pain hit her.

The next contraction brought tears to Lena's eyes, and as she struggled to sit up, she felt a sticky wetness between her legs. Clutching herself, she went to the bathroom to clean up. The sound of dishes rattling in the kitchen was a welcome sign that Miriam was out of bed, so Lena walked down the short hallway.

But it was Ben, putting the coffee percolator on the stove by the glow of a lamp. It was too embarrassing to tell a man what was happening, so Lena started back to her room—until she cried out with the most brutal contraction yet.

Ben turned to gaze at her. “Lena! Are ya—Miriam'll want to know your time's comin',” he said quietly. “Can I help ya back to your room? Shall we call—”

“Just tell Miriam, okay?” Lena rasped. “I'll go on back to bed.”

“
Jah
, we'll let her take care of it,” Ben agreed with a nervous laugh. “It's best if we men just stay out of Mother Nature's way.”

Rather than lying down, Lena padded the seat of the rocking chair with a towel and sat down to wait for Miriam. Making the rocker move back and forth gave her something to do, and it felt better to move as she rode out her contractions. She wished Josiah and Savilla were here, even as she sensed Josiah would be as jittery as Ben was.

Or would he?
Maybe he hung up so quickly yesterday because he has no intention of claiming his baby. Maybe he wasn't cleaning out his grandmother's house—maybe that was his cover for getting out of Willow Ridge and out of your life.
Lena rocked faster, caught up in these what ifs and why nots until the door of her room swung open.

“Lena, it's gonna be a day you'll never forget, honey-bug,” Miriam said in a soothing voice. “And look who's here to check on ya. We've got ya covered.”

Lena's worrisome thoughts fled as both Miriam and Andy Leitner gazed at her. Why had she allowed doubts about Josiah's commitment to sidetrack her from the most important event of her life? “
Denki
so much for coming, Andy. Sorry I got you out of bed so early.”

“That happens a lot in my line of work.” He smiled as he opened his medical bag. “But what other occupation would allow me to help with the most blessed event on God's earth? Deep breaths now—sorry my stethoscope's cold.”

After Andy checked her vital signs, her dilation, and timed a few contractions, he squeezed her shoulder. “I'll make my hospital rounds in New Haven and come back in a couple of hours,” he said. “Meanwhile, I want you walking and moving around as much as you can tolerate. If you can eat some nutrient-dense foods now, they”ll sustain you while you're in labor.”

“I've got just the thing,” Miriam remarked. “I made a batch of muffins with lots of grains and fruits and ground nuts. I'll brew a pot of tea and be ready for your company when ya come out to the kitchen.”

Once again, Lena felt blessed by Miriam's kindness, and grateful for her experience in these important matters. When she arrived in the kitchen, wrapped in a thick robe Miriam had loaned her, the aromas of spices and molasses made her realize how hungry she was.

“My Rachel shared this recipe with me,” Miriam said as she set out a basket of fragrant muffins. “I've got some beef broth and other
gut
liquids for ya, too. Eat now, Lena, while ya feel up to it. You'll do a lot better when the serious pushin'll have to get done.”

“I'm so glad you know all this stuff, Miriam,” Lena murmured as she buttered one of the warm muffins. She wasn't so sure her own mother could've taken such fine care of her, but she didn't say that out loud. Thinking about her family only made her miss them more.

While Lena ate, she focused on talking to Miriam. Then, for the umpteenth time, she took out the tiny baby clothes, diapers, and other supplies she'd received at the shower Nora had held. She walked. She rocked. She told herself each painful contraction took her closer to holding her baby in her arms. And as Lena imagined Josiah, he was smiling at her as though he was totally delighted—as though he intended to take good care of her and their baby forever.

The mental image of Josiah's rugged, handsome face helped her endure the hours of nerve-racking contractions, some of them so sharp Lena thought she might pass out. Finally, Nurse Andy told her to get into the bed Miriam had prepared for her. Through a haze of pain she kept breathing, pushing when she had no more strength to push, believing that someday Josiah would realize how much he meant to her. Lena needed him, yes, but she loved him more.

“Don't give up, Lena. You're almost there!” Andy encouraged her from the end of the bed. “Here comes a head with dark, wavy hair.”

Josiah, I'm doing this for you! Lord, give me one more
gut
, strong—

When Lena bore down, she felt a surge of momentum—a sudden relief—and then a tiny cry became loud enough to fill the room.

“You've got a fine little boy here, Lena,” Andy announced.

“Just like ya thought,” Miriam chimed in happily. “He's wigglin' and fussin' just right, too. We'll clean him up so ya can hold him. Oh, but he's a honey-bug, this boy is.”

Lena smiled weakly. She glanced at the red-faced, blanketed baby Miriam showed her a few minutes later and then drifted off into exhausted oblivion.

 

 

Once Rachel and Rhoda were sitting with Lena, who held her newborn son in the crook of her arm, Miriam joined Andy in the kitchen. “I'm gonna pay your birthin' fee right now, so don't quibble with me,” she insisted as she reached into a coffee can she kept in the pantry. “It's anybody's guess when Lena—or Josiah—might think to settle up with ya.”

Andy eyed her over the top of a muffin he'd taken from the basket on the kitchen counter. “I feel a lot better about Lena's situation because she's here with you. Where'd Josiah take off to, anyway?”

Miriam counted out Andy's cash before she answered. “He and Savilla are cleanin' out their farmhouse so the new owner can take it over. He'll be back, though,” she said, hoping she'd assessed Josiah correctly. “His sister's committed herself to working at the Sweet Seasons, and he's smart enough to stick with her because she's got a head for running a business.”

“Glad to hear it.” Andy groaned appreciatively as he looked at the muffin he was eating. “This is
fabulous
. I'm guessing it's got lots of whole grain and down-to-earth real food in it.”

“
Jah
, when Rachel swore it got her through Amelia's birth, I added the recipe to my collection,” Miriam said. “I used whole wheat flour from Luke's mill, along with ground apple and carrot, some pumpkin puree, and honey.”

“Carbs that won't spike your blood sugar and then bottom out—not that you have to be a woman in labor to love them,” Andy added as he snatched another one. The beard he'd started when he got married rippled as he grinned at her. “Between you, me, and this muffin basket, I think Rhoda might be pregnant—but it's too early to tell anybody else.”

Miriam let out a squeal and hugged him. “I was wonderin' about that as I watched her at dinner yesterday. And right now, while she and Rachel are keepin' an eye on Lena, I've got a couple of calls to make. Stay as long as ya want, Andy.”

“I'll walk with you. Annie Mae Wagler's on my list of appointments today, so I'll stop by her house before I head back to the clinic.”

It was a pleasure to talk with her new son-in-law about his flourishing medical practice, and a blessing that his love for Rhoda had brought him to Willow Ridge and led him to joining the Old Order, as well. They parted ways at the county blacktop, and Miriam continued to the phone shanty behind the Sweet Seasons, which was still closed for the Thanksgiving holiday.

Miriam sat down in the shanty and closed the door against the wintry wind. As she thumbed through the list of numbers she kept in the drawer of the telephone table, she pondered what she'd say to Lena's parents. They hadn't called back when she'd phoned them about Lena being in Willow Ridge, but maybe news of their new grandson would open their hearts.

Miriam dialed and then waited for the beep of the Eshs' message machine. “
Jah
, it's Miriam Hooley. You've got a fine, healthy grandson, born just a couple of hours ago,” she said cheerfully. “Lena's doin' fine. Just my opinion, but at a time like this, there's nobody a girl needs more than her
mamm
. I—I hope ya can look beyond what's happened in the past and focus on the future of your family,” she insisted. “Come and see her and the wee one any time. We'd be pleased to have ya here.”

She hung up, wondering if she'd spoken out of turn.
Ya told the truth. And ya spoke up for Lena when she can't speak for herself
.

Satisfied with that idea, Miriam ran her finger down the list of phone numbers again. She dialed and waited through four rings, disappointed that Josiah didn't answer—but the Witmers had a lot of family business to take care of. “Josiah, it's Miriam,” she said when his phone prompted her. “You've got a sweet, healthy little son now—and he looks just like ya,” she added with a chuckle. “Lena's restin'. She's a strong young woman who deserves a committed man every bit as much as your boy needs a
dat
he can rely on. Just sayin'.”

Pausing, Miriam once again decided she had spoken the truth, whether or not Josiah wanted to hear it. Deep down, however, she sensed that he would listen now. “Hope you and Savilla are makin'
gut
progress on the house,” she went on. “We're glad you're settlin' in Willow Ridge, and we're lookin' forward to havin' ya as partners at the Sweet Seasons. Take care and God bless.”

As she replaced the receiver, Miriam prayed that Josiah and Savilla would have safe travels on their way back through Missouri. December was a couple of days away, so snow and icy roads would become more of a possibility.

Miriam rocked from side to side for a few blissful moments, hugging her unborn child. Watching the miracle of birth had made her more keenly eager to hold her new baby, and to share the wee one with Ben. When her triplets had been born twenty-two years ago, her husband Jesse had remained a traditional Amish male—no diaper changing or spoiling the girls by holding them when they cried. He had loved them dearly, and had eventually gotten over his wish for a boy, but an invisible fence had been in place: Jesse Lantz had remained in control of his household, his children, and his emotions. His emotional fence had become a more obvious boundary between him and Miriam after Rebecca had washed away in the flood. He'd agreed with their bishop at the time that outside help shouldn't be called in to search for their toddler, so Miriam had mourned her lost daughter without being able to bury her little body and find closure.

Ben would be different, though. He wouldn't feel that his manhood—or his position as head of the family—would be compromised if he gave himself over to cooing and cuddling.

What a blessing he'll be!
Miriam left the phone shanty with a grin on her face. In about a month, this dream would come true, just as every other wish and prayer had been granted her since Ben had come into her life. As tiny snowflakes tingled on her cheeks, Miriam thanked God for the life and the love He'd bestowed upon her.

She made her way up the lane to the house again. As she chatted with Rhoda and Rachel, Miriam was struck by a wonderful idea. When her girls left, she went upstairs to the room beside the one she shared with Ben, which was set up as the nursery. The beautiful cradle Ben had made sat beside her rocking chair, and she picked it up to admire the flawless woodworking and the hummingbird her husband had created in pewter.

Every time she touched this cradle, she felt the love of Ben's hands as he'd crafted it for her—a priceless gift, that love was. Miriam had made a little mattress and a cover for it, as well as a crocheted blanket in shades of sunshine yellow, so the cradle was ready to welcome their child.

Downstairs she went, to find Lena nursing her new son. Lena didn't look completely comfortable with feeding him yet, but she was doing her best. The baby's eyes were closed contentedly in his puckered pink face.

“I want ya to have this cradle,” Miriam murmured. “I want it back, understand, but until ya find a bassinet or something else for your boy to sleep in, he can use this.”

Lena's mouth fell open. “But Ben made that for
you
,” she protested. “He'll be upset if I—”

Miriam held up her hand to silence the girl. “Ben often quotes the verse in the Bible where Jesus says that foxes have dens and birds have nests, but He had no place to lay his head,” she explained gently. “There's no reason your wee boy should suffer that same lack—not if
I
have anything to say about it.”

Miriam gently set the cradle on the floor. She leaned over the bed to smile at Lena's son, smoothing his dark hair. “Have ya picked a name for him?”

“This is Isaiah Daniel,” Lena replied softly. “That was Josiah's
dat
's name.”

“Well, ya couldn't have chosen two finer fellas from the Bible to name him for, and you're honorin' the boy's
dawdi
, too,” Miriam said. “What with Isaiah bein' the prophet who foretold the comin' of our Savior, and Daniel havin' such faith as to remain unharmed in a den of hungry lions, this young man has a lot to live up to.”