“Thank you,” Asa replied with quiet sincerity.

  Joe adjusted the plow, then whistled for a few seconds. “So, you folks got kids of your own?”

  Anna spluttered at Joe ’s assumption that they were married.

  “Uh . . . no . . . we—”

  Joe grinned. “Well, they’ll come along, right as rain. Happens that way, you know.” He resumed whistling, and Anna couldn’t find the voice to correct him. She noticed Asa’s silence as well and tried to ignore the warm press of his body against her side.

  “Okay,” Joe announced after a few long minutes, slowing the vehicle. “I think this is it.” He began to turn cautiously into the lane but soon shook his head in frustration.

  “Their lane’s a lot narrower than Zeke’s and the drifts are huge. I wish I could get you a bit closer.” Joe tugged on his ball cap and stared out at the blinding white illuminated by the headlights of the vehicle. “I can’t take a risk going off the lane; I’d never get her out. I don’t know if you should try and walk it.”

  “We’ll get through,” Asa said. “Thank you very much.”

  “I’ll keep the lights on high ’til I see that you’re near the house, but you’d better move fast. Those drifts look chest deep in some places.”

  “Thank you.” Anna smiled, laying her hand on Joe’s arm as Asa lifted the large latch on the door and swung it open, letting in a blast of cold air and a heavy fall of snow onto the vinyl seat. Anna tried to brush it away.

  “Aw, leave it,” Joe said. “Go on now. I’ll keep watch.”

  Asa swung her down into the snow, and she was amazed that it reached as high as her waist. The cold engulfed her as Asa closed the door and then took her bag and her arm.

  “I’d carry you,” he called over the wind, “but I don’t want to take the chance of dropping you in a drift. Can you make it?”

  “Jah!” she yelled back as they waded out into the twin beams of the truck’s headlights, which reflected a good distance ahead.

  Anna gave vague consideration to how quickly she ceased to feel her feet and then noticed that her heartbeat, after a few slogging steps, began to shift from hard pumping to a slow lassitude. She tried to concentrate and took deep breaths of the biting snow, then started reciting anatomy facts as the first insidious thoughts of sleep whispered at the back of her consciousness. She shook herself and almost went down in a drift but felt strong hands hauling her back to her feet.

  Asa shook her. “Come on,” he called. “We can do this.”

  She nodded, but it must not have satisfied him because he shook her again, and this time she felt her teeth rattle.

  “Anna Stolis!” he yelled. “I am not going in this house, where that wiry old woman lives, to deliver a baby alone! I don’t know how—so stay awake!”

  “All right,” she snapped, and he dragged her on.

  Soon they were out of the reach of the truck’s lights. Anna felt a moment of fear as the snow swirled with blinding force around them, but she found herself remembering that all was light to Derr Herr. He knew the way they were going, and he’d apparently revealed it to Asa as she felt herself yanked along. Soaked to her neck, she staggered, then came to an abrupt halt when she ran into Asa’s broad back.

  “Are we lost?” she yelled.

  “No—clothesline.” He reached above his head, and she had to laugh at the thought of Asa getting clotheslined by a diligent housewife in the middle of a blizzard. A few steps more, and Anna saw the reassuring bulk of the house. From a distance, they heard Joe honk his horn as he pulled away, and Asa pounded on the door where only a dim light shone from the inside. Again, Anna hoped she’d not brought them on some fool’s errand in the small hours of the night, but the door opened with abruptness.

  They staggered into a large, dim living room and Anna tried to steady her breathing. She wiped the wet snow from her face, and it became apparent that, although few lights burned, the room held three women who stared at Anna and Asa as though they were apparitions.

  Asa spoke first. “It’s Asa Mast and Frau Ruth’s niece, Anna Stolis. We thought we’d come check on Mary . . .” He trailed off when no one responded. Only Anna’s deep intakes of breath could be heard.

  Then the oldest woman gave a crack of harsh laughter. “The clock says close to four a.m., and there’s a blizzard. Are you drunk or just fools?”

  Anna felt Asa stiffen beside her but decided it was a fair, albeit rude, question.

  “Neither, ma’am,” she said politely, coughing a bit and trying to reach the snow that trailed down her neck with a discreet hand. “I felt a responsibility to Aenti Ruth to check on all of her possible deliveries tonight, especially because of the storm, to make sure all was going well.”

  “Well, all is not well, missy. Luke Stolis is in bed with the flu, as are his brothers, two of the children, and my two sisters. The rest of us, myself and my two daughters, are just sitting here waiting to get it.”

  “Grossmuder Stolis,” Asa said with resignation. “I’m sorry you’re going through this; my daed is down with it too.”

  “Humph—time was nothing could get Samuel Mast down. He’s getting old.”

  Anna heard the small rumble that escaped Asa’s lips and ignored the steady drip from her freezing nose.

  “Please excuse me, Mrs. Stolis, but you didn’t mention your daughter-in-law, Mary. Is she feeling well?”

  “Who are you?” The old woman leaned forward with an ominous creak from her rocker.

  “Anna Stolis, from Pine Creek. As Asa said, I’m Ruth Stolis’s niece and have taken over her midwifery duties for this night.”

  “Pine Creek, hmm? No relation that I can think of just now.”

  Anna sneezed, and Asa made an impatient gesture with his arm. “We are soaked and freezing. How is Mary?”

  Anna felt his frustration but clung to her diplomacy, not wanting to alienate one of Aenti Ruth’s patients’ family members. But she needed to know how the pregnant woman felt so they could march with good conscience back out into the freezing cold.

  “Mrs. Stolis, I’ve been practicing midwifery successfully for the past two years in Pine Creek, and Aenti Ruth briefed me on Mary’s last pregnancy. I’m sorry that she lost the child.”

  “There is nothing to be sorry for in the will of Derr Herr.”

  Anna did a mental count to ten and tried to wriggle her toes. She knew she had to get past the older woman, but her patience was running out.

  “Of course the Lord’s will is best, but we’ve come far tonight. Could you just tell me that Mary is doing well?”

  A woman sniffed from the shadows. “As well as can be expected for a body nine months pregnant and in labor.”

  Dead silence reigned in the room for all of three seconds, and then Anna’s patience exploded.

  “That’s it!” Her voice bounced off the walls, and the two quiet sisters jumped in their chairs. She felt Asa start beside her as well, but she didn’t care. She pulled off her icy gloves with her teeth, letting them fall with wet plops onto the hardwood floor. Her cape, scarf, bonnet, and boots followed in quick succession, building an inelegant, dripping pile. She hopped gracelessly from one foot to the other as she peeled off her soaking knee socks, flinging them backward to splat low against the wall. Then she grabbed her snow-covered bag from Asa’s hands.

  Anna stepped forward into the gloomy room and caught up a lantern from a side table, turning it to its highest flame, then setting it back down with a thump. Her gaze swept the room until it came to rest on the older, black-eyed woman sitting in full Amish church-meeting dress, who was regarding them without emotion. Anna swept toward her, ignoring the two other women, and moved to drop her bag on the floor in front of the matriarch.

  Anna caught the arms of the rocking chair and knelt to give an even glare into the dark eyes. “Now let me make myself clear, Mrs. Stolis. I don’t care who you are or who you think you are in this family, but—as Derr Herr wills—this baby will not die under my watch. So unbend your stiff neck for two minutes and take me to Mary, or I’ll search every room myself.”

  There was an infinitesimal pause.

  “You’re not married, are you?” Mrs. Stolis asked.

  Anna would have given the chair, possibly even the grandmother herself, a good shake had she not heard Asa’s sudden choked laughter.

  She whirled to shoot him an accusing glance, but he held up a placating hand.

  “What,” Anna snapped, “is so amusing?”

  Asa shook his head. “Ask Grossmuder Stolis.”

  “Jah,” the older woman said with what could only be described as suppressed mirth. “No one’s spoken to me like that in a good long time. Not since Henry died. I—I’ve missed it, truth be told. He kept me in line, and I’ve become a shrunken apple without him.” She gave a wry glance at her frozen daughters. “There’s not much fruit on the trees around here. But you, Anna Stolis from Pine Creek, you just gave me the nicest Christmas gift I’ve had in nearly fifteen years.”

  Anna sank to her heels with a shiver and pulled her bag back on her lap. “So, where’s Mary?”

  “I haven’t abandoned her, if that’s what you’re worried about. I want to keep the flu away from her—her husband has it. So she’s comfortable in a bedroom on the third floor. One of us goes up to check on her every few minutes.”

  Anna was already on her feet. “I’ll just have a look.”

  “You’re going to freeze to death, Anna,” Asa pointed out. “Your clothes are soaked.”

  Anna glanced down at her blouse and skirt, which clung stubbornly to every curve she had, and sighed. First, she’d lost her temper in front of the only man who’d ever given her a second glance, and now her generous shape was portioned out in bland revelation by the light she’d turned up herself.

  “I’m fine,” she said.

  Grossmuder Stolis rose to her feet and looked at her daughters. “Esther, Miriam, take Anna Stolis upstairs and get her some dry clothes—though I doubt anything you have will fit, you’re both thin as beans.”

  Anna’s eyes widened at the veiled insult and she cleared her throat.

  “I’m sorry.” Mrs. Stolis laughed. “I’ve always fancied beans”—she gave Anna’s waist a quick pinch—“and fresh bread. Go on now, girls.”

  Anna grimaced at another stifled laugh from Asa, picked up her bag, and followed the two bewildered sisters out of the room.

  The two women, clearly overwhelmed at the abrupt change in events, could do nothing more than lay out clothes for Anna and then they hastily left her alone. She changed quickly, caught up her bag, and went onto the landing to continue up the stairs to the third floor.

  She peered down a long narrow hallway of doors and saw the sliver of light from beneath one at the far end. She went and knocked, not knowing what to expect, and a cheerful woman’s voice bade her to come in.

  Chapter Five

  She opened the door and was amazed to see a lovely, fresh-faced woman, gowned and kapped, sitting up in a beautiful bed, reading a magazine.

  “Mary?”

  “Jah, are you Frau Ruth’s niece? She told me about you on my last visit with her. She’s very proud of you.”

  Anna came into the room and closed the door. “Jah, I’m Anna. Danki. How are you?” She recalled that Aunt Ruth had said Mary proclaimed herself to be “healthy as a horse.”

  The woman in the bed cast her an easy smile. “I’m wonderful. Do you want to check my pulse and blood pressure? Ruth always does.”

  Anna nodded, feeling a little dazed. Perhaps she had dragged Asa on a fool’s errand, for no woman in labor had ever looked so serene.

  Mary’s pulse and pressure were excellent. “Any contractions or pain?” she asked, feeling like she already knew the answer. Mrs. Stolis must have been mistaken about the labor.

  Mary laid her magazine, which Anna noted was an Englisch publication on labor and delivery, on the full mound of her stomach and nodded. “Every five minutes, regular as can be. I should be ready to push soon.”

  Anna looked around the bedroom, feeling out of her depth. She noted the elaborately carved cradle that stood ready nearby.

  “My husband, Luke, carved that at the shop. After we lost our last baby, he wanted to ‘make all things new’ for this one’s arrival.”

  “It’s beautiful,” Anna said as she drew out her stethoscope. She didn’t want to have to listen for the heartbeat; it was possible that there were no visible signs of pain because the baby had already been lost in utero. Yet she had no choice. She avoided Mary’s gentle smile as she moved aside the quilts and bent her head.

  She nearly sagged with relief against the bed when she heard the heartbeat, strong and steady, and saw the now visible contractions that tightened Mary’s belly.

  “Everything’s fine,” Mary told her before she could say anything, and Anna nodded.

  “Forgive me, Mary, please, but how . . . do you know? You should be in some pain at this point, if not a lot.”

  Mary smiled again and reached beneath the pile of white pillows at her back and drew out a folded piece of paper. “It’s simple, really. For this pregnancy, I saw that there were four of us involved, right from the beginning. Luke agreed with me.”

  “Four?” Anna wondered if it were possible that her patient carried twins and Ruth had missed it.

  “Jah, Luke, myself, the baby, and Derr Herr.” She handed Anna the piece of paper.

  Anna bent her head to read. “ ‘And he that sat upon the throne said, “Behold, I make all things new.” ’ Revelation 21:5.”

  Anna lifted her gaze back to Mary’s.

  “I chose to embrace this verse with Luke and the baby and to make it the theme verse—the quilt pattern, if you will—of this pregnancy. I know that there is newness even in death, of course, but this time I believe that Derr Herr has a different plan.”

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “Our Lord is beautiful. Now it’s time to push,” Mary said with little ceremony.

  Anna drew on her gloves, mask, and gown with haste, but had little time to prepare anything else as Mary urged her to hurry.

  Two brief pushes later, a wide-eyed baby boy emerged with perfect breathing and excellent color. Anna had to blink back tears as she laid the baby on his mother’s stomach and cut the cord. She’d never felt so humbled by the presence of new life or by the faith of a mother.

  She performed her aftercare quietly as she listened to the soft murmurs of love and the prayers of thanksgiving that echoed from mother to child. When both mother and baby were clean and dry, Anna felt enveloped in a peace that would have allowed her to sleep standing upright if she didn’t have paperwork to fill out.

  She leaned against a bureau and noticed that the sun was beginning to send luminous streaks of light across the window. At some point it had stopped snowing. It was Second Christmas morn.

  “What will you call him, Mary?” she asked with pen poised.

  “Luke and I decided a long time ago: Christian. Christian Luke Stolis.”

  Anna nodded and once again felt choked by tears. She wrote down the time of birth, then glanced once more at her watch, amazed that only forty-five minutes had gone by since she’d first come upstairs. She hoped Mrs. Stolis wouldn’t visit soon and disrupt the peace. It seemed as though Mary could read her thoughts when she asked brightly if Anna had met her mother-in-law.

  “Yes—for just a few minutes.”

  Mary laughed. “She’s got everyone fooled but me; I know she loves me, though I have tried to encourage her to stop terrorizing everyone else.”

  Anna gave her a weak smile. “Maybe you’ll find you’ve had some success with that.”

  With the advent of morning and the new baby in the house—in addition to a cheerful, if not tart, elder Mrs. Stolis—the feeling of Second Christmas permeated the air with warmth and goodwill. Several of the flu victims returned from their beds feeling much better and came to eat an abundant breakfast around the large wooden table. Luke Stolis arrived first and couldn’t thank Anna and Asa enough, though he’d yet to see his new son; Anna had given orders that he wait at least twenty-four hours after his symptoms had subsided.

  Anna accepted a place at the table, refreshed as always by the new day, though she hadn’t slept at all. And though she didn’t study him directly, she was conscious that someone had given Asa clean clothes, because the aqua green shirt he now wore so matched his good looks. But it was only when she lifted her head to look at him across her breakfast plate that she noticed the flush on his handsome face. He returned her smile, but his cheeks were red and his dark eyes held the glazed, distant look she’d come to associate with illness in her practice. He coughed once, into his sleeve, then stared with disinterest at his plate of food.

  Anna rose from the table. She had no desire to let the household know that there was another case of flu among them until she was quite sure. “Mrs. Stolis, I need to get my midwifery bag back in order, and there are some small chores that Asa might help me with. Do you have an extra room where I can lay all of my supplies out?”

  “Jah, certainly. Go upstairs to the second floor and turn left. Use any of those rooms; they’re all empty. I kept the flu victims on the right wing. If you need to be long, someone can build you a fire.”

  “I’ll do it. Danki.”

  Anna was sure that only she noticed how abruptly Asa’s color changed to pallor when he got to his feet. And by the time they mounted the narrow, darkened back staircase, he leaned on her, and she struggled to get him over the top step and down the hallway.

  She chose the first door that she came to and opened it, revealing a large room with a carved bed and pristine patchwork quilt. There was an abundance of pillows, too, she was glad to see. But it was chilly, and she hurried to help Asa to the bed, pulling the quilt and bedclothes down with one hand.

  “Asa,” she whispered. “Lie down; you’ll feel better.”

  “Just for a minute,” he mumbled. “I’ll make the fire first.”

  “But it’s already so hot in here.” She improvised, knowing his fever would deter him until she could get the blaze going herself.

 

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