One Child Page 7

  Kate spluttered and set down her mug. “Thirty-five?”

  “Some families have a lot more.” Sarah handed her a napkin. “You have a marshmallow mustache.”

  Wiping it away, Kate shook her head. “Thirty-five?” she repeated.

  “My mother came from a family of eight, and each of them had children, so . . .” She shrugged and sipped at her chocolate.

  “Gee, and I thought I came from a big family. I have three brothers and half a dozen cousins, mostly male, so it was a rough-and-tumble kind of family. Maybe growing up the way I did made me stand up for myself and then later, stand up to defend my clients.” She traced a circle on the tablecloth. “Jason was an only child, and his parents were into this whole thing about making him a super-smart kid. So he’s really great about stuff like computer programming, but he doesn’t cope so well with some things.”

  Sighing, she shook her head as she rubbed her abdomen. “He panics so easily. You saw the way he wanted to go looking for help because he thought I was going into labor. I mean, when he walked here to your house after the car went in a ditch, that was a good idea. But rushing out of here to go who knows where because he saw me having those cramping feelings, well, that’s just plain overreacting. It could have been dangerous for him.”

  She pushed away her empty mug. “The Lamaze coach said she’d never seen such a nervous father-to-be. It makes me wonder how he’s going to behave when the baby’s here. Is he going to panic every time our kid scrapes his knee or gets a bloody nose?”

  “Being raised in a large family, you get a lot of both,” Sarah reflected. “I suppose if you’re an only child and kept away from other children a lot, it could be a problem. But you can help him learn to calm down, can’t you?”

  Kate propped her elbows on the table and studied Sarah. “You know, this has been interesting, being here with you and David. I’ll admit I had some misconceptions about the Amish.”

  Sarah lifted her shoulders. “I know the Englisch often think we’re quaint or old-fashioned. We puzzle them because we avoid things like electricity and cars.”

  “I get it about electricity now. But why no cars?”

  “That would promote pride. An owner would say, ‘Look at my car. I have the nicest, the fastest, the most expensive.’”

  “Keeping up with the Joneses,” Kate mused, then had to explain what that meant.

  “Not that there’s not already a little of that with buggies being made a little bit different or better than others. But cars. Well, they make it easy to leave, perhaps avoid family and work and responsibility. But you know, no one should put us up on a pedestal. We just want to live our lives our way, simply, and according to our faith.”

  “Well, I know one thing. Jason and I have talked more tonight than I can remember since our honeymoon.”

  “Talking is gut,” Sarah agreed. She and David, too, had talked tonight in a way that they had not been able to for a long time.

  “You okay?”

  “Hmm?” Sarah blinked. “I’m sorry. I was just thinking of something David said tonight.” She waited for Kate to ask what she herself had called “too personal,” but she didn’t. Perhaps it was because once again Kate was rubbing her abdomen and looking like she was listening to some inner voice.

  “Guder mariye,” David said to Jason as he stumbled into the kitchen, rubbing at his eyes.

  Sarah shook her head. “No, Merry Christmas, remember? ” she corrected with a smile.

  “That’s right. Merry Christmas to you.”

  “Five thirty in the morning,” Jason said, shaking his head. “I haven’t been up this early on Christmas morning—or any other morning—since I was a kid looking to see what Santa left under the tree.”

  “You didn’t have to get up,” Kate reminded him.

  “I smelled bacon,” he told her, grinning at Sarah. “And something wonderful baking.”

  Sarah turned from the stove and smiled at him. “It will be ready soon.”

  “It’s stopped snowing,” David announced as he looked out the window.

  Jason and Kate cheered.

  “I’ll be in the barn,” he told Sarah and went to put on his coat and hat.

  “Can I come with you?”

  Surprised, David turned to stare at Jason. “I’m just going to the barn.” When Jason just stood here, waiting, he nodded. “It isn’t heated,” he warned, but Jason was already putting on his jacket and the boots he’d been loaned earlier.

  The two men trudged through the snow to the barn. David pushed open the doors and stepped inside. He couldn’t help grinning as Jason registered the smells of horse and hay and manure, and recoiled a little.

  The Englischman looked around curiously. And then Ned neighed, and Jason jumped a foot.

  “Ever been around horses?” David asked, smiling.

  “Just a pony ride when I was a kid.” He looked askance at Ned. “He’s a lot bigger than a pony. Is it safe to pet him?”

  “Sure.”

  Reaching out, Jason touched the horse. Ned snorted and drew back, baring his teeth. Jason jumped again.

  “He’s just showing off,” David said calmly. “Here, you can feed him.”

  “I—uh, that’s okay.”

  David thrust the bucket into the other man’s hands. “It’ll be fine. Really.”

  “I kind of need my hands for my work,” Jason muttered, but he sidled up to the stall. “Here, nice horse, here you go. Nice whatever-it-is you get to eat. Not my hands.”

  Ned perked up his ears and watched with interest as Jason approached and poured the feed into his trough. As he started chomping on the oats, Jason reached out and tentatively patted the horse. Ned turned to rub his muzzle against Jason’s hand.

  “That’s cool!”

  “Ned loves whoever feeds him,” David told him, handing him food for the other horse.

  “You really do have horsepower, huh?”

  “Ya. Maybe you’d like to shovel your way out of that joke, Englischman.”

  Laughing, Jason held up his hands. “Okay, okay.” He walked away to prowl the section of the barn set up as David’s work area.

  “Hey, you do terrific work,” Jason called as he looked over the furniture items in different stages of progress. He ran his hand over the chest of drawers David had been sanding. “Sarah told us you might make us a mantel for our home if we asked.”

  David nodded. “What kind of wood do you want?”

  “I don’t know much about it. Maybe the kind you used to make yours, but with a darker stain to match our furniture?”

  “Just send me the measurements, and I’ll quote you a price. I can arrange for it to be shipped to you, or you can come pick it up.”

  “That might be nice. Picking it up, I mean. Maybe stop by to see you and Sarah after the baby’s born, show him off and take the mantel home with us.” He walked around some more and stopped at a workbench where a piece of black plastic covered another object.

  “What’s this?” he asked, but he was already lifting a corner of the plastic to reveal a carved wooden cradle. “Wow, this is beautiful. Kate would dearly love something like this. Could I buy it?”

  “It’s not for sale.” The words rushed out, sounding harsher than David intended.

  “Oh, it’s like a family heirloom or something. I thought you made it.”

  David took a deep breath. “I did. It was just sort of a special order. I can’t sell it.”

  David had made it soon after Sarah had told him that she was carrying their child and kept it a secret from her. It had been his idea to present it to her shortly before she gave birth.

  “I understand if you can’t sell this one. But wow, this would be something Kate would love even more than the mantel. How long would it take for you to make one in the same kind of wood? Would you be able to do it before the baby’s born?” He pushed the cradle and made it rock. “I want it no matter what it costs. It’s a work of art. But I’d like to make it a surprise for her.�
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  “It’s just what I do,” David said. Hochmut—pride—was to be avoided. “I’ll start on it tomorrow.”

  “Great.” Jason covered the cradle. “Must be cool, working with your hands, creating beautiful things like this. I really liked shop class when I was in high school. Made a small table once. ’Course it was nowhere near the quality of your work.”

  “Remember that I’ve done it for many years. But if you’re really interested, you could set up a small area in your garage at your home and start with some simple projects as a hobby.”

  Jason considered that. “Yeah, maybe I could. Might be good for me after sitting at a computer all day. Then when I go home, I spend too much time watching another tube—the TV.”

  “Well, we’re done in here,” David said. “Ready for some breakfast?”

  “You bet.” Jason followed him out of the barn and watched him fasten the door. “You know, maybe I could get some power tools and do what you said, set up a worktable. What’s a simple project you think I should start with?”

  David thought about that as they made their way back to the house. “Maybe a little rolling toy, like a wooden duck, for your baby? Or a rocking horse?”

  Jason beamed. “Great ideas.”

  They went inside and washed up and then sat down at the table with their wives to eat breakfast. David and Sarah bent their heads in silent prayer. If their guests followed suit, he didn’t know or care. He looked up and smiled at them.

  “Let us enjoy this food God has provided for us on this special day.”

  Chapter Eight

  The men—especially Jason—were enthusiastically shoveling in the breakfast Sarah made, and she was busy jumping up to fetch more biscuits and jam and kaffi. Still, she couldn’t help noticing that Kate was just pushing the eggs around on her plate and only nibbling at a biscuit.

  She was also shifting uncomfortably on her chair.

  But when Sarah looked at her, lifting her brows in question, Kate glanced at Jason, then back at Sarah, and shook her head.

  So Sarah bided her time, ate her own breakfast, and fortified herself with two cups of kaffi to stave off the haze of tiredness that had caught up with her.

  “Sarah, this is an amazing breakfast,” Jason said as he accepted a second helping of bacon and eggs. “I haven’t had a breakfast like this in—well, I can’t remember.”

  “I cook breakfast for you sometimes,” Kate protested.

  “Yeah, you do,” he admitted. But he didn’t say any more, instead putting another bite of biscuit in his mouth.

  Kate put down her fork, struggled to her feet, and left the room. A few seconds later, they heard the spare bedroom door shut.

  Jason paused, holding the biscuit halfway to his mouth. “What? What’d I say?”

  Sarah bit her lip. “I don’t think Kate’s feeling very well. She was shifting around in her chair, and she wasn’t eating.”

  Jason looked at his wife’s plate and sighed. “And here I was, stuffing my face and not even noticing.” He put the biscuit back on his plate.

  Sarah patted his hand. “Why don’t you take her a cup of tea and talk to her?”

  He brightened. “Great idea. No, don’t get up. I’ll make it.”

  David finished his breakfast and rose to look out the window. When he turned back to her, Sarah saw that he was frowning. “It’s started snowing again. Hard.”

  Jumping to her feet, Sarah joined him at the window. “David, I’m concerned about Kate.”

  He drew her to him and rubbed at the tension in her shoulders. “Let’s not borrow trouble. It could just be that she’s tired and a little irritable. None of us had much sleep last night.”

  She nodded. “I think I’ll go see if there’s anything I can do.”

  When she knocked at the door, Jason opened it. “Oh, good, I was about to come get you,” he said.

  Kate sat on the bed, rubbing her back. She looked up. “Sarah, I’m sorry. I was rude to leave the ta—”

  Sarah waved a hand, halting her words. “There’s no need to apologize, Kate. I can tell you’re not feeling well.”

  Tears welled up in the other woman’s eyes. “My back hurts worse, and I just feel miserable.”

  “Why don’t you try lying on your side, with a pillow tucked between your knees?”

  Sarah went to the closet for an extra pillow. She handed it to Jason and watched as he helped Kate tuck the pillow beneath her abdomen. “Does that help?”

  “I think so. The sofa felt better for a while, but maybe this will be good now.”

  Sarah touched Kate’s hand lying atop the quilt. She wished she could do more for this woman who was feeling such distress. She knew what it felt like to worry about a pregnancy, knew what could go wrong. “I know you’re feeling tired and stressed. But there’s no need. All you have to do right now is rest, liebschen.”

  “Liebschen,” Kate repeated, already sounding drowsy. “That sounds nice. What’s it mean?”

  “Dearest,” Sarah said.

  Kate glanced at the window. “When do you think they’ll send out snowplows?”

  “It usually takes an hour or two after it gets light.” It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t a direct answer either.

  “Then they’ll find our car and come looking for us?”

  “I’m sure they will. They’ll figure you went for help to the nearest house. Do you think you could sleep now?”

  Kate nodded. “I think so.”

  “I’ll be in the kitchen. Just call me if you need anything.”

  “Thanks, Sarah.” The words were barely out of her mouth before Kate’s eyes closed and she slept.

  “Yes, thanks, Sarah,” Jason whispered.

  Smiling, she gestured for him to follow her from the room. She was concerned that Kate’s back pain had not gone away, but seemed to be getting worse. But she hesitated, not wanting to send him into a panic again.

  A silly story popped into her mind, one that Jacob Yoder had told more than once. Jacob never remembered how often he told a story—or maybe he pretended to forget and just liked the telling. In Jacob’s story, an Englisch man had telephoned home to check on the family pet that his brother had agreed to care for while he was out of town. “The cat fell off the roof and died,” he was told.

  “Oh no!” the man exclaimed. But then he admonished his brother, “Couldn’t you have eased me into what happened? Maybe the first time I called, told me the cat had gotten up on the roof and you were doing your best to get it down? Then the next day, you could have said the cat fell and you were having the vet take care of it. And then finally, you could have said, ‘I’m so sorry. We did everything we could, but the cat passed on.’”

  “You’re right,” the Englisch man’s brother said. “I’m sorry.”

  “That’s all right,” the man told him with a sigh. “I guess the cat lived a good, long life and it was his time to go. So, how’s Mom?”

  “Uh, well, she’s on the roof,” his brother said.

  It was not a gut joke, thought Sarah. But it gave her an idea about how to help Jason.

  David had cleared the table and put the dishes in the sink. Now he sat at the table, drinking another cup of kaffi and looking at a book he kept of the furniture he’d made and sold. Sometimes he used it to show customers what he could do in terms of design and colors.

  She poured kaffi for Jason and herself and then joined him at the table as they sat to drink it. “You know, Jason, I’ll be glad when the snowplow gets here,” she said to him. “Kate’s been so uncomfortable with her back. It might be a gut idea to take her to be checked out at the local hospital before you head home. Just as a precaution.”

  A flicker of fear raced over Jason’s face, and he started to rise.

  David laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “The roads will probably be cleared by the time she wakes. If not, and she’s still not feeling well, we’ll figure out something else.”

  Jason chewed on a fingernail. “Okay.” He
looked at his mug of coffee, then at Sarah. “Would you mind if I took this in to the bedroom? I think I’ll sit in there and keep an eye on Kate.”

  “That’s a wunderbaar idea,” Sarah told him. “When she wakes up, I’m sure she’ll feel like you were watching over her and the baby.”

  Jason beamed. “Thanks.”

  David watched as the other man left them, and after he heard the bedroom door shut, he turned to smile at Sarah. “That was very clever. You managed to tell him she wasn’t feeling well in a way that didn’t alarm him. And you gave him the idea to think of something he could do even if it’s just to sit with her.”

  “It was nothing,” she said with a shrug. “I hope the snow will stop soon.”

  David nodded and looked at the window again. “I was thinking that I could make a sign and put it up in the yard. Anyone going by—road crews or someone with county services—would see it and stop to see if we need help. There’s probably some plywood in the basement.”

  “That’s a wonderful idea.”

  “Just as soon as it lets up, I’ll do it.” He clasped her hand. “In the meantime, we only thanked God for our meal earlier. We didn’t get to do our morning gebet. Let’s do it now.”

  She nodded, and they prayed as they did each morning and evening. And then she was left alone at the table, listening to the clock tick off the minutes to the time when her guests would leave and family and friends would return to celebrate the day.

  David walked into the bedroom a little later and saw that Sarah stood at the window in her bedroom. Her shoulders were slumped as she stared outside. He slipped his arms around her.

  “It doesn’t look like it’s going to die down,” she told him. “I think it might be picking up instead.” Turning, she sank down in a chair at the table and put her head in her hands.

  “Sarah, it’ll be all right. You know these snowstorms don’t last long. It’ll be over soon.”

  She turned to him. “Promise?”