Beginnings (28 page)

Beth wasn’t sure she agreed, but she decided arguing would only cause more stress for Henry. “When are you going to go see them?”

Henry glanced at his wristwatch. “The surgeon said we could start visiting the special nursery at one o’clock. So...” He held out his hands in a helpless gesture. “Until then, we wait.”

Over the remainder of the morning, more people arrived, turning the waiting room into a somber family reunion. The room rapidly filled with Henry’s brothers and their wives, each of Beth’s aunts and uncles, and many of her cousins. Even Deborah, her husband, and their children showed up unexpectedly shortly before one.

When Henry sent Deborah a questioning look, she snapped, “Yes, I closed the café.” Her voice broke as she added, “Don’t you know you, Marie, and those babies are more important than any café could be?” Then she spun toward Beth, held out her arms, and said, “I see you made it. Come here and thank me for that map.”

Without exception, the new arrivals greeted Beth first, offering hugs and words of support, before giving the same to Henry or to Beth’s grandparents. Beth thought her chest might burst from the warmth of their acceptance. How could she have waited so long to embrace these people as her family? Looking back, she realized she had held them at arm’s length, distancing herself from gatherings out of fear of rejection. Now her fears seemed foolish.

Trina sat close, her capped head on Beth’s shoulder, and a thought struck Beth. She was not a member of their church, but she was a member of their family. Apparently in their opinion, she
did
belong. Their actions today clearly expressed that. Now it was up to her to accept it. Beth felt as though she matured at least five years in those moments of reckoning.

The instant the clock on the wall read one o’clock, Henry bounded for the door. Before leaving the room, he paused and looked back at Beth. “You’ll be next,” he promised. Then he clipped past the window and disappeared.

Trina lifted her head and smiled at Beth. “Are you excited?”

Beth released a short, humorless laugh. “I’m more nervous than anything. I’ve never been around babies. And for them to be born so early, and to be sick...” Tears stung again.

“They’ll be okay,” Trina said with such certainty Beth almost believed it. “Wait and see.”

“I’d feel better if I could see them for myself.” Beth looked longingly toward the door. But Henry had only been gone a few minutes. She shouldn’t be selfish and hurry him back with her thoughts.

Trina touched her arm. “Beth? Was it hard for you to come, knowing you have work to do?”

Beth looked at the younger woman. Trina’s spattering of freckles stood out like copper pennies in her pale face. She seemed to hold her breath as she waited for Beth’s reply, but Beth couldn’t imagine why it held such importance.

“It wasn’t hard at all,” Beth answered honestly.

Trina’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Really. Suddenly the studio, the artwork—all of it—seemed secondary.” Shaking her head, she gave a soft, rueful chuckle. She glanced around the room at the gathered family members. “This is first: family.” With a sigh, she admitted, “The studio is still there. It might take me longer to do all the things I’ve planned—the expansion, the new equipment, the big projects—but I believe God led me to open the studio, so I’ll just trust Him to open the door to me when the time is right. Apparently the time wasn’t right yet.”

Trina shook her head, the white ribbons of her cap swaying gently with the movement. “Oh, yes, Beth. The right time. Thank you.”

Beth wanted to discover the reason behind Trina’s reaction, but Henry returned.

“Beth? Come on. I’ll walk you down.”

Beth eagerly joined her stepfather.

***

Sean hung up the phone, an unexplained concern weighting his chest. He glanced at his wristwatch. Where could she be? She’d said she would be working at the studio, yet she didn’t answer the phone there. Nor did she answer her cell phone, and last night when he’d called her home phone, it had also gone unanswered.

Dad was waiting for a reply to his questions concerning the weight of the glass she’d chosen for the window they’d assigned. Sean assumed she had used tempered glass, which was thicker and more durable, but he couldn’t remember her ever stating that for sure. He wanted to verify it before reporting to his father.

But he couldn’t do that if he couldn’t reach her. He picked up the phone and dialed again, then allowed the telephone to ring a dozen times before hanging up again.

He pressed his memory. He knew she’d had an answering machine at one time, yet no recording message had invited him to leave a callback number. Maybe she’d turned off the machine, although he couldn’t imagine why she would choose to do that. He had no idea if Sommerfeld offered caller ID. But if she had it, could she possibly be choosing not to answer his calls?

He didn’t like that thought. If Beth wasn’t answering the telephone, there had to be a logical reason. She was straightforward enough to simply tell him she didn’t have time to talk; she’d done it before. He chuckled. Beth was honest. Sometimes painfully so. But that honesty was something he’d come to appreciate, even it meant being put off. At least she didn’t play games.

Sean’s computer beeped, indicating the arrival of an e-mail. He gave his office chair a push that slid him to the computer. A click of the mouse brought his mailbox into view. His heart sank. The message wasn’t from Beth. But it was from a pastor in Texas, asking questions about the electrician they had subcontracted to wire the new Sunday school classrooms McCauley Church Construction had added to their existing church. It took a few minutes to address the concerns.

The moment he hit Se n d, his fingers itched to write another e-mail. This one to Beth. If he couldn’t get through via the telephone lines, perhaps e-mail would reach her. He brought up a message box and quickly typed his father’s question. He finished the brief message with, “Give me a call, if you would, please. I’m concerned that I haven’t been able to reach you.”

He reread the last line, his heart thudding. Should he leave it or not? It didn’t sound like something a business associate would say. It sounded more like a friend. After a few moments of contemplation, he decided a friendly comment wasn’t inappropriate. His finger trembled slightly as he connected with the Se n d button, but he didn’t reverse his decision.

Once more he glanced at his wristwatch. One fifteen in the afternoon. She could possibly have run home for a late lunch. He’d try her house again.
Ring ... ring ... ring...

Holding the receiver to his ear, he leaned back in his chair and ran his fingers through his hair. “C’mon, Beth, where are you? Answer, huh? You’re starting to scare me.”

***

Monitors emitting soft beeps and flashing dots of light stood sentinel over the clear Plexiglas boxes where Beth’s new baby brother and sister lay. The enclosed beds were necessary to maintain their oxygen levels and body temperature, the nurse had said, but it made her sad to see them separated after they’d shared a single womb. She wondered if they felt lonely being apart from each other. Standing between the two Isolettes, Beth fought tears as she looked back and forth at the tiny babies. Completely naked on stark white sheets, they looked so helpless and vulnerable.

On the way to the neonatal intensive care unit, Henry had done his best to prepare Beth for the myriad tubes inserted in each baby’s arms, nose, and stomach, but seeing it was still a shock. He explained the babies had IVs to receive fluids, withdraw blood, and administer antibiotics. The little boy had a tube that appeared to be inserted through his throat—a gentle
whoosh
indicated it sent oxygen to his lungs. Beth cringed at the sight of the tiny wrinkled neck with the crisscross of tape holding the tube in place. She bit back a sob. Poor little guy...

Both babies required feeding tubes since they were born too early to have developed the ability to suck. Looking at the green tubes in the impossibly small nostrils, Beth felt another stab of sadness. Mom had so looked forward to breastfeeding the babies. Would that be possible later, when they were bigger?

Before sending her in, Henry had shared, “Their names are Theodore and Dorothea. Both names mean ‘gift from God.’ That’s what they are, Beth—gifts. Children are His, only loaned to us for a time.”

Beth hadn’t been sure if he was preparing her for the possibility of God taking them back or was sharing the Mennonite viewpoint. Either way, she hadn’t questioned him but had merely nodded and repeated the names, trying them out: “Theodore and Dorothea.”

Now, examining the miniscule infants, she thought the names were far too big for such tiny babes. She leaned over Dorothea’s Isolette and whispered, “I’m your sister Lisbeth, but everyone calls me Beth. I’ll have to come up with a nickname to call you. I’m sure I’ll think of something special for you, little girl.”

Turning toward the baby’s twin, she added, “You, too. Theodore is for someone big and brawny, and you will be, someday. But for now, I need something that fits you better.” She smiled as the baby curled fingers no bigger than a pigeon’s toes into a pearl-sized fist. “How about Teddy, huh? Do you like that?”

She got no response, but it didn’t matter. Just looking down at the baby, taking in the downy tufts of hair on his perfectly shaped head and the pucker of his sweet mouth was enough for now. There would be time for Teddy to respond to her later. She’d be around.

Turning back to her sister’s Isolette, she continued in a voice as soft as a sigh. “And you, Dorothea, maybe I’ll just call you Dori. I had a friend in kindergarten named Dori. She was sweet. She shared her raisins with me at snack time. We’ll have time to share things, too, little girl. Maybe not makeup tips or clothing styles, but secrets. Lots of secrets, the way sisters do.”

Little Dorothea shifted her fuzzy head slightly, and tears spurted into Beth’s eyes. The baby’s tiny chin had a clearly discernible cleft. Just like Mom’s. Just like Beth’s.

A rush of emotion swept over Beth, a love so intense it nearly toppled her. She put her hand on the top of each Isolette and closed her eyes for a moment, willing what she felt to somehow transfer through the plastic case to the babies inside.

“Miss Quinn?”

Beth opened her eyes and blinked, clearing her tears. A nurse wearing a scrub shirt printed with pink and blue hippos stood nearby.

“I’m sorry, but it’s time to change the babies’ IV fluids. I’ll have to ask you to return to the waiting room.”

Although Beth considered begging to be allowed to stay, she remembered Maura saying the babies were fragile and shouldn’t suffer undue disruptions. Doing what was best for the babies took precedence over her own desires. She nodded. But she took one more second to place her fingers against her lips and then press a kiss on the top of each plastic box.

“I’ll be back, Teddy and Dori. Sister loves you.”

TWENTY-SIX

Sean clinked the ice cubes in his glass and stared at the clock ticking above the sink in the kitchen. Raising the glass, he tipped a cube into his mouth and chewed, his gaze never wavering from the clock and its slow-moving second hand.

Six thirty-one. Six thirty-two. Six thirty-three ... Would he stand here forever, waiting for the telephone to ring?

Plunking the glass onto the counter, he whirled back down the hallway to his office and slumped into his desk chair, his chin in his hand. Another minute-measurer in the lower right-hand corner of his computer screen captured his attention. He watched three more minutes click by before releasing a sigh.

She was working late. That’s why she hadn’t answered his e-mail. It didn’t explain why the telephone rang unheeded in the shop, unless she was so focused on her work she chose to ignore it. It didn’t explain why her cell phone went unanswered. He’d stopped calling it, embarrassed by the number of times she’d be greeted with “missed call” when she finally picked it up.

He wished he could avoid picking up his telephone. Dad had called three times today, and his impatience at having his question unaddressed was creating a knot of tension between Sean’s shoulder blades.

He lowered his head and closed his eyes for a moment, offering a silent prayer.
Dear Lord, is everything okay over there in Sommerfeld?
The nervous twinge in the center of his chest made him want to suspect something was wrong, but he also wondered if it was just his imagination running wild. In this day of increased communication, he wasn’t accustomed to waiting to reach someone. It could be his own impatience causing this feeling of dread.

He looked at the little clock on his computer screen again. Six forty-four.

C’mon, Beth, where are you?

***

Beth looked up as Henry slapped his knees and rose, his gaze sweeping the room.

“It’s past suppertime. Would anyone like to walk to the hospital cafeteria and get something to eat?”

Although Beth wasn’t hungry—the weight of worry sufficiently filled her stomach—she knew Henry could use the company. She offered a nod. “I’d eat a little something.” She looked at Grandpa and Grandma, who sat close to her in the corner. “Do you want to come along, or would you rather I bring you something back?”