Читать книгу Katie's Redemption - Patricia Davids - Страница 10

Through a haze of pain, Katie heard Elam ask, “What is it? What’s wrong?”

She felt strong arms supporting her. She leaned into his strength but she couldn’t answer because she was gritting her teeth to keep from screaming.

“I believe her baby’s coming,” Nettie replied calmly.

Panic swallowed Katie whole.

This can’t be happening. Not here. Not with strangers. This isn’t right. Nothing is right. Please, God, I know I’ve disappointed You, but help me now.

A horrible sensation settled in the pit of her stomach. Was this her punishment for leaving the faith? She knew there would be a price to pay someday, but she didn’t want her baby to suffer because of her actions.

She looked from Elam’s wide, startled eyes above her to his mother’s serene face. “My baby can’t come now. I’m not due for three weeks.”

Nettie’s smile was reassuring. “Babies have a way of choosing their own time.”

Katie bit her lower lip to stop its trembling. She’d never been so scared in all her life.

“Don’t worry. I know just what to do. I’ve had eight of my own.” Nettie’s unruffled demeanor eased some of Katie’s panic. Seeing no other choice, Katie allowed Nettie to take charge of the situation.

Why wasn’t Matt here when she needed him? It should have been Matt beside her, not these people.

Because he’d grown tired of her, that’s why. He had been ashamed of her backward ways. Her pregnancy had been the last straw. He accused her of getting pregnant to force him into marriage, which wasn’t true. After their last fight three months ago, he walked out and never came back, leaving her with rent and bills she couldn’t pay.

Nettie turned to her son. “Elam, move one of the extra beds into the kitchen so Katie has a warm place to rest while you fetch the midwife.”

“Jah.” A blush of embarrassment stained his cheeks dark red. His lack of a beard proclaimed his single status. Childbirth was the territory of women, clearly a territory he didn’t want to explore. He hurried away.

Nettie coaxed Katie to sit and showed her how to breathe through her next contraction. When Elam had wrestled a narrow bed into the kitchen and piled several quilts on one end, Nettie helped Katie onto it. Lying down with a sigh of relief, Katie closed her eyes. She was so tired. “I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can. The Lord will give you the strength you need,” Nettie said gently.

No, He won’t. God doesn’t care what happens to a sinner like me.

“Is the midwife okay, or will you be wanting to go to a hospital?” Elam’s voice interrupted her fatalistic thoughts.

She turned her face toward the wall. “I can’t afford a hospital.”

“The midwife will do fine, Elam. I’ve heard good things about Nurse Bradley from the women hereabouts. Go over to the Zimmerman farm and ask to use their phone. They’ll know her number. What are you waiting for? Get a move on.”

“I was wondering if there was anyone else I should call. Perhaps the baby’s father? He should know his child is being born.”

“Matt doesn’t care about this baby. He left us,” Katie managed to say through gritted teeth. The growing contraction required all her concentration. The slamming of the outside door signaled that Elam had gone.

When her pain eased, Katie turned back to watch Nettie bustling about, making preparations for her baby’s arrival. The kitchen looked so different than it had during the years Katie had lived here. She could see all of the changes Elam and his mother had made. She concentrated on each detail as she tried to relax and gather strength for her next contraction.

Overhead, a new gas lamp above the kitchen table cast a warm glow throughout the room. As it had in her day, a rectangular table occupied the center of the room. The chairs around it were straight-backed and sturdy. The dark, small cabinets that once flanked the wide window above the sink had been replaced with new larger ones that spread across the length of the wall. Their natural golden oak color was much more appealing.

Setting Katie’s suitcase on a chair, Nettie opened it and drew out a pink cotton nightgown. “Let’s get you into something more comfortable.”

Embarrassment sent the blood rushing to Katie’s face, but Nettie didn’t seem to notice. The look of kindness on her face and her soothing prattle in thick German quickly put Katie at ease. Elam’s mother seemed perfectly willing to accept a stranger into her home and care for her.

Dressed in a dark blue dress covered by a black apron, Nettie had a sparkle in her eyes behind the wire-rimmed glasses perched on her nose. Her plump cheeks were creased with smile lines. No one in Katie’s family had ever been cheerful.

Nettie’s gray hair was parted in the middle and coiled into a bun beneath her white kapp the way all Amish women wore their hair. Katie fingered her own short locks.

Cutting her hair had been her first act of rebellion after she left home. Amish women never cut their hair. It had been one way Katie could prove to herself that she was no longer Amish. At times, she regretted the loss of her waist-length hair. She once thought she despised all things Amish, yet this Amish woman was showing her more kindness than anyone had ever done. Only one person Katie knew in the neighborhood where she’d lived with Matt would have taken her in like this, but that friend was dead. The English world wasn’t always a friendly place.

After she had changed into her nightclothes, Katie settled back into bed. Nettie added more wood to the stove. The familiar crackle, hiss and popping sounds of the fire helped calm Katie’s nerves. Until the next contraction hit.

Elam wasted no time getting Judy hitched to the buggy. In spite of her master’s attempts to hurry, the black mare balked at the wide doorway, making it clear she objected to leaving her warm barn. Elam couldn’t blame her. The windblown sleet felt like stinging nettles where it hit his face. He pulled the warm scarf his mother had knitted for him over his nose and mouth, then climbed inside the carriage.

The town of Hope Springs lay three miles to the east of his farm. He had Amish neighbors on all sides. None of them used telephones. The nearest phone was at the Zimmerman farm just over a mile away. He prayed the Mennonite family would be at home when he got there or he would have to go all the way into town to find one.

Once he reached the highway, he urged Judy to pick up her pace. He slapped the reins against her rump and frequently checked the rectangular mirror mounted on the side of his buggy. This stretch of curving road could be a nerve-racking drive in daylight. Traveling it in this kind of weather was doubly dangerous. The English cars and trucks came speeding by with little regard for the fact that a slow-moving buggy might be just over the rise.

Tonight, as always, Elam trusted the Lord to see him safely to his destination, but he kept a sharp lookout for headlights coming up behind him.

It was a relief to finally swing off the blacktop onto the gravel drive of his neighbor’s farm. By the time he reached their yard, his scarf was coated with ice from his frozen breath. He saw at once that the lights were on. The Zimmermans were home. He gave a quick prayer of thanks.

Hitching Judy to the picket fence near the front gate, he bounded up the porch steps. Pulling down his muffler, he rapped on the door.

Grace Zimmerman answered his knock. “Elam, what on earth are you doing out on a night like this?”

He nodded to her. “Goot evening, Mrs. Zimmerman. I’ve come to ask if I might use your telephone, please.”

“Of course. Is something wrong? Is your mother ill?”

“Mamm is fine. We’ve a visitor, a young woman who’s gone into labor.”

“Shall I call 911 and get an ambulance?”

“Mamm says the midwife will do.”

“Okay. Come in and I’ll get that number for you.”

“My thanks.”

The midwife answered on the second ring. “Nurse Bradley speaking.”

“Miss Bradley, I am Elam Sutter, and I have need of your services.”

“Babies never check the weather report before they decide to make an appearance, do they? Has your wife been into the clinic before?”

“It is not my wife. It is a woman who is visiting in the area, so she hasn’t been to see you.”

“Oh. Okay, give me the patient’s name.”

He knew Katie’s maiden name, but he didn’t know her married name. Was the man she spoke of her husband? Deciding it didn’t matter, he said, “Her name is Katie Lantz.”

“Is Mrs. Lantz full term?”

“I’m not sure.”

“How far apart are her contractions? Is it her first baby?”

“That I don’t know. My mother is with her and she said to call you,” he stated firmly. He was embarrassed at not being able to answer her questions

“Are there complications?”

“Not that I know of, but you would be the best judge of that.”

“All right. How do I find your place?”

He gave her directions. She repeated them, then cheerfully assured him that she would get there as fast as she could.

As he hung up the phone, Mrs. Zimmerman withdrew a steaming cup from her microwave. “Have a cup of hot cocoa before you head back into the storm, Elam. Did I hear you say that Katie Lantz is having a baby?”

“Jah. She came looking for her brother. She didn’t know he had moved.” He took the cup and sipped it gratefully, letting the steam warm his face. Mrs. Zimmerman was a kindhearted woman but she did love to gossip.

“Poor Katie. Is Matt with her?” She seemed genuinely distressed.

“She’s alone. Is Matt her husband? Do you know how to contact him?”

Mrs. Zimmerman shook her head. “I have no idea if they married. Matt Carson was a friend of my grandson’s from college. The boys spent a few weeks here two summers ago. That’s how Katie met Matt. I’ll call William and see if he has kept in touch with Matt or his family.”

“Thank you.”

“I never thought Katie would come back. Malachi was furious at the attention Matt paid her. If he hadn’t overreacted I think the romance would have died a natural death when Matt went back to school. I don’t normally speak ill of people, but Malachi was very hard on that girl, even when she was little.”

“‘Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it.’ Proverbs 22:6,” Elam quoted.

“I agree the tree grows the way the sapling is bent, but not if it’s snapped in half. I even spoke to Bishop Zook about Malachi’s treatment of Katie when she was about ten but I don’t think it did any good. I wasn’t all that surprised when she ran off with Matt.”

Elam didn’t feel right gossiping about Katie or her family. He took another sip of the chocolate, then set the cup on the counter. “Danki, Mrs. Zimmerman. I’d best be getting back.”

“I’ll keep Katie in my prayers. Please tell her I said hello.”

“I will, and thank you again.” He wrapped his scarf around his face and headed out the door.

By the time Elam returned home, the midwife had already arrived. Her blue station wagon sat in front of the house collecting a coating of snow on the hood and windshield.

He lit a lantern and hung it inside the barn so his mother would know he was back if she looked out. He took his time making sure Judy was rubbed down and dry before returning her to her stall with an extra ration of oats for her hard work. When he was done, he stood facing the house from the wide barn door. The snow was letting up and the wind was dying down at last.

Lamplight glowed from the kitchen window and he wondered how Katie was faring. He couldn’t imagine finding himself cast upon the mercy of strangers at such a time. He had seven brothers and sisters plus cousins galore that he could turn to at a moment’s notice for help. It seemed that poor Katie had no one.

Knowing his presence wouldn’t be needed or wanted in the house, he decided he might as well get some work done if he wasn’t going to get any sleep. Taking the lantern down, he carried it to the workshop he’d set up inside the barn. Once there, he lit the gas lamps hanging overhead. They filled the space with light. He turned out the portable lamp and set it on the counter.

The tools of his carpentry and wooden basket–making business were hung neatly on the walls. Everything was in order—exactly the way he liked it. A long, narrow table sat near the windows with five chairs along its length. Several dozen baskets in assorted sizes and shapes were stacked in bins against the far wall. Cedar, poplar and pine boards on sawhorses filled the air with their fresh, woody scents.

Only a year ago the room had been a small feed storage area, but as the demand for his baskets and woodworking expanded, he’d needed more space. Remodeling the workshop had been his winter project and it was almost done. The clean white walls were meant to reflect the light coming in from the extra windows he’d added. When summer took hold of the land, the windows would open to let in the cool breezes. It was a good shop, and he was pleased with what he’d accomplished.

Stoking the coals glowing in a small stove, he soon had a bright fire burning. It wasn’t long before the chill was gone from the air. He took off his coat and hung it on a peg near the frost-covered windows. Using his sleeve, he rubbed one windowpane clear so he could see the house.

Light flooded from the kitchen window. They must have moved more lamps into the room. Knowing he couldn’t help, he pick up his measuring tape and began marking sections of cedar board for a hope chest a client had ordered last week.

He didn’t need to concentrate on the task. His hands knew the wood, knew the tools he held as if they were extensions of his own fingers. His gaze was drawn repeatedly to the window and the drama he knew was being played out inside his home. As he worked, he prayed for Katie Lantz and her unborn child.

Hours later, he glanced out the window and stopped his work abruptly. He saw his mother hurrying toward him. Had something gone wrong?