The Gift (31 page)

“Leah, you’re awfully quiet tonight, and you haven’t eaten much of your pizza.” Adam motioned to Leah’s plate.

“Maybe she don’t like plain sauce and cheese pizza,” Linda said before Leah could respond.

Leah shook her head. “No, it’s not that. Guess I’m just not real hungry.”

“How come?” This question came from Amy, who’d been more talkative than usual this evening.

Leah reached over and patted Amy’s hand. “I have a lot on my mind.”

“I have a lot on my mind, too,” Adam put in, “but it won’t stop me from eating.” He grabbed another piece of pizza and took a big bite, wiggling his eyebrows as he did so.

Carrie snickered and jiggled her eyebrows back at him.

“What’s on your mind, Leah?” Amy prompted. “Are you thinking about the wedding?”

Leah shifted in her chair, searching for words that wouldn’t be a lie. “That is one thing I’ve been thinking about.” She picked up a slice of pizza and took a bite. “Guess maybe I should quit thinking so much and finish what’s on my plate.”

Carrie looked over at Leah and smiled. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Leah leaned over and gave Carrie a hug. “So am I.” She felt so much love for Adam’s nieces. That, in itself, made her look forward to becoming his wife. She just hoped things went well when Adam took her back to the house this evening and they had their little talk. If he didn’t like what she said, would he call off the wedding?

“How are you feeling, Sara?” Jonah asked, his face a mask of concern. “I saw you wince. Are you in pain?”

“I’m having some cramping and lower back pains.” She forced a smile. “This is how it went before Mark was born, so I’m pretty sure my labor has started.”

“But you still have a few weeks to go. Do you think something is wrong?”

“Everything is all right, Jonah.” Sara almost felt sorry for her husband as she watched him begin to pace. “It’s quite normal if a baby is born a little early, or even a few weeks late, especially if the calculations are a little bit off.”

Jonah’s eyes widened. “Then we’d better take Mark to my parents’ house and get you to the hospital right away.”

She shook her head. “Not yet, Jonah, and don’t look so worried. My pains aren’t close enough yet. I’ll let you know when, so just try and relax.” Sara had to remind herself that this was a first for Jonah. She remembered how nervous Harley had been when she was in labor with Mark.

“I think I should at least take Mark over to my mamm and daed’s place so when it’s time to head to the hospital, we can just go there directly.”

“Okay, whatever you think is best. I’ll pack the things Mark will need to spend the night, and then you can deliver him right to their door.”

“Maybe I should pack his things so you can rest,” Jonah was quick to say.

She waved her hand. “There’s no need for me to rest, Jonah. In fact, I’m going to walk around for a bit and see if I can get things moving along a little quicker.”

He slipped his arm around her waist. “Now, don’t get too carried away. I don’t want you having the boppli while I’m gone.”

“Your folks don’t live that far away, and I don’t think you’ll be gone that long.”

His cheeks and the back of his neck colored as he grinned sheepishly at her. “You’re right. I’m feeling kind of
naerfich
right now. Guess I’m not thinking straight.”

She squeezed his arm. “There’s nothing to be nervous about. Women have been having babies since Eve gave birth to Cain and Abel.”

Jonah bent to kiss her cheek. “Jah, I know. But you’re having
our
baby.”

Smiling, Sara started down the hall for Mark’s room, where he’d gone to play after supper. She was sure he’d be excited to know that he would be spending the night with Jonah’s folks. Since they’d moved here from Pennsylvania and been able to see them quite often, Mark had become very fond of them.

As Sara neared the door of her son’s room, she paused to pray.
Dear Lord, please help me have a safe delivery, and may this little one who’s about to be born be healthy and a blessing to You throughout his or her life.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I’d like to speak to you alone for a few minutes before you go home,” Leah whispered to Adam when he pulled his horse up to the hitching rack near her father’s barn. “The girls can go inside and visit with my daed while we sit on the porch and talk.”

Adam’s eyebrows squished together. “You want to sit outside and talk? Don’t you think it’s a little chilly for that?”

“No, not really, but if you’d rather, we can sit here in the buggy.”

Adam couldn’t imagine what Leah had to say that couldn’t be said in front of the girls, but whatever it was he figured he ought to hear it. He hoped she hadn’t changed her mind about marrying him. Besides the embarrassment of having to call off their wedding, if Leah backed out, he’d be left with the full responsibility of raising Mary’s girls. He’d already tried that and hadn’t done so well.

“Adam, did you hear what I said?” Leah touched his arm.

He nodded. “Jah. If you want to take the girls inside, I’ll wait here in the buggy so we can talk.”

Leah climbed down, helped the children out, and then led them to the house. As Adam waited for her to return, he became even more apprehensive.
The girls will be so disappointed if Leah and I don’t get married. They’re all excited about having her move into our house, and I’ll have to admit, I’m looking forward to it, as well.

With regret, Adam realized that with the exception of his three nieces, he wouldn’t have any family members at the wedding—assuming it took place.

Adam wished his father had lived long enough to really get to know his granddaughters. He was sure they would have loved him as much as Adam had. For a man to be both father and mother to his children had been no small feat, but somehow his dad had accomplished it. Adam wondered if Dad had ever wished he could have gotten married again after Adam’s mother left and filed for a divorce. But that was not to be, because unless Adam’s mother had died, Adam’s father would not have been free to remarry.

I wonder if my mother is still alive. If so, has she ever thought of me and Mary?
Adam’s jaw clenched.
If she was selfish enough to walk out on her family, she probably never gave us a second thought.

Startled out of his musings, Adam’s head jerked when Leah stepped into the buggy and took a seat beside him. “Oh, you’re back.”

“Jah, and the girls seemed happy to visit with my daed. He’s been working on a puzzle and asked them to help.”

“That’s good. Now what did you want to talk to me about?”

Leah cleared her throat. “Well, I’ve been wondering about something.”

“What’s that?”

“You have talked about your daed and how much you miss him, but you’ve never really mentioned your mamm.”

A muscle on the back of Adam’s neck knotted. “I don’t talk about her because there is nothing to say. She walked out on me and Mary when we were kids, and we never saw or heard from her again.”

“Jah, I know about that.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “You knew before I said anything?”

Leah nodded. “Elaine told me.”

“Elaine? How’d she find out about it?”

“Well, I think—”

Adam held up his hand. “No, don’t tell me. It had to be Ben. He’s the only one I’ve ever told about my past.” He frowned. “Guess I should have known better than to trust him to keep my secret.”

“If Ben told Elaine after you’d asked him not to say anything, then that was wrong,” Leah said. “But when Elaine told me, she thought I already knew.”

Feeling a headache coming on, Adam rubbed his temples. He couldn’t help wondering how many other people Ben had told. If he didn’t nip this in the bud, it wouldn’t be long before everyone in their community knew about his past.

“Do you know your mother’s first name?” Leah asked.

“She was always Mom to me, but when I asked Dad what her first name was, he said it was Cora.” Adam looked over at Leah and blinked. With only the light of the moon shining into the buggy, he couldn’t see her expression, but he heard her gasp. “Where’s this conversation leading, anyway, and why’d you inhale so sharply?”

“What is your daed’s name?”

“His name was Andrew. Why do you ask?”

“I think I might know your mother.”

A cold chill swept over Adam. “What do you mean? And where and when did you meet this woman you think is my mother?”

“She lives here in Arthur.”

Adam shook his head vigorously. “No she doesn’t. If she did, I would know.”

“She moved here recently.” Leah placed her hand on his trembling arm. “After all these years, I don’t think you would recognize her, Adam. I’m sure she wouldn’t know you, either, since you were just a boy when she left. Besides, in your memory she wore Amish clothes. Now, she’s every bit English.”

“How do you know her? Did she talk to you? Where did you meet?” Adam’s sentences were running together, as his mind whirled.

“Her name is Cora, and she’s a nurse at the clinic. We met the day I took Carrie in after she’d been stung by those yellow jackets. I found out later that it was her first day working at the clinic.”

“You met this woman you think is my mother that long ago and have never said anything to me about it till now?” Adam flexed his fingers until they bit into his palms.

“I didn’t know who she was then, Adam. And you have never told me anything about your mother. It wasn’t until she started coming to me for foot treatments that she started to open up about her recent divorce from her husband who’s a doctor and lives in Chicago.” Leah paused and drew in a quick breath. “When Cora saw me last evening for a foot treatment, she blurted things out about her past. It really took me by surprise when she said she used to be Amish but had left her husband and two small children to pursue a career in nursing.”

Adam moaned as he leaned forward, letting his head fall into his outstretched hands. He remembered Dad telling him that his mother used to say working on people’s feet wasn’t gratifying enough—that she wanted to be a nurse. But he hadn’t thought about that until now. What he also remembered was his mother massaging and pressing on his and Mary’s feet, which she’d done the night before she left. That memory had left Adam with a sense of bitterness toward reflexology. He’d always associated it with something bad—something that had left him and Mary motherless.

Adam lifted his head. “Does the woman know about me—that I live here in Arthur?” he asked, wanting to know the answer, yet hoping Leah would say no.

“I did not mention your name. I wanted to talk to you about this first.”

He sighed with relief. “That’s good to hear.”

“Adam, there’s more.” Leah placed her hand on his tense shoulder.

He turned to face her, wanting to hear what she had to say but at the same time dreading it.

“Cora said she had two children—a girl named Mary and a boy named Adam—and that she had tried to—”

“I don’t want to hear any more!” White-hot anger rolled through every part of Adam’s body, nearly scorching his soul. “If you talk to this woman again, please tell her to leave, because I never want to see her. Is that clear?”

Leah remained quiet.

“Leah, is that clear?” he repeated.

“Jah,” she murmured. “But, Adam, I think maybe—”

“And you are not to mention anything to that woman about Carrie, Linda, or Amy. I don’t want her anywhere near my nieces!”

L
eah sat on the edge of her bed that night, looking in the Bible for answers to her dilemma. It would be difficult not to tell Cora about Adam when she saw her again. But she couldn’t do that without going against Adam’s wishes. And if she told Cora about Adam and he found out, he’d be furious. This was not a good way to start a marriage.

Of course,
Leah reasoned,
we’re not starting it out the way most Amish couples do. The people I know who’ve gotten married were deeply in love.

Leah swallowed hard. She never thought she would admit this, not even to herself, but until last night when she’d heard the anger and bitterness in his voice, she’d thought she might be falling in love with Adam. But since he didn’t feel that way toward her and seemed unable to get past his resentment of Cora, Leah would hold her feelings inside. Adam would never know that she’d begun to have strong feelings for him. She must learn to be content as his wife in name only. For now it was enough to be a mother figure to his precious nieces.