DC03 - Though Mountains Fall (38 page)

Kyra put on a pot of coffee. They lit the lanterns and fired the stove, then made themselves a small breakfast, though Miriam wanted none of it.

The pains gripped her like an iron fist when they came, but her mother-in-law assured her she was not yet ready. “Be patient. Rest. You’re going to need your strength.”

Three hours passed, and the window faded from black to pearly gray. The sun rose, yet Kyra and her mother seemed unconcerned. Kyra boiled water, ironed rags and blankets. Her mother knelt several times before the little corner shrine, lit candles and prayed to her crucifix. Several times between spasms they came and rubbed the aching muscles in Miriam’s back, but they did nothing to make the baby come. Miriam’s patience was wearing thin.

“The pains are still too far apart,” her mother-in-law said. “Wait. Save your strength.”

That same morning in a two-story, white frame farmhouse in Apple Creek, Ohio, Emma doubled over suddenly at the breakfast table, a look of shock on her face. It took her a few
seconds to regain her composure, but then she said calmly, “I think it’s time.”

Levi panicked, spilling lukewarm coffee on Mose as he jumped up from the table.

Rachel gripped his shoulders to get his attention. “Calm down, Levi. I want you out of here, but I’m going to need some help. Take the children next door and tell Ida Mae to come when she can. Then go to work. We’ll take care of Emma, and I’ll let you know when it’s time for you to come in. It’ll be a while yet. Shoo!”

Levi’s fearful eyes lingered on Emma, but after a moment he gathered up the children and left.

The Miller farmhouse was a quarter mile away. By the time Ida Mae let herself in, Emma was already in bed and Rachel was standing by the stove, ironing. A big pot of water was just beginning to boil. An Old Order Amish woman in her mid-thirties, Ida Mae Miller had seven children of her own, the youngest only six months.

“Are you sure the children will be okay by themselves?” Rachel asked as Ida took over the ironing.

“Oh, jah. My Mary is fifteen—good as grown. She’ll look after the young ones while the boys see to their chores.”

It was a good thing Ida Mae was there. Childbirth had never gone quickly for Emma, but this time it did. It all went smoothly, and two hours later she held a brand-new baby boy in her arms.

Rachel sat beside her, wiping Emma’s flushed face with a freshly ironed rag.

“Big sister, I think you finally got it figured out. I told you this one was a boy, didn’t I? Do you have a name?”

Emma grinned broadly. “Tobe. It was Levi’s pick, and it suits him, don’t you think?”

Rachel smiled, gently stroking the infant’s face. “Perfectly.
He looks like a Tobe. As soon as we get everything cleaned up I’ll call Levi in to meet his new son.”

Finally, after the sun had risen and the oil lamps were snuffed out, Kyra and her mother sat down beside Miriam and timed the interval.

Kyra’s mother nodded. “It is time.”

The next hour was the most intense of Miriam’s life—unbearable pain and exquisite joy mingled, exactly as Kyra had described it, and she could not refuse a single bite.

Then, at the very peak of her endurance, came relief. She lay back, exhausted, too tired to raise her head even when she heard the squeals of delight from Kyra and her mother. But her heart shivered when she heard that rusty little cry, and her strength came rushing back.

“You have a son!” Kyra said, her smile as full of sunlight as the kitchen window.

They cleaned him up and laid him against her, raw. For the first time Miriam felt the flesh of her own son warm against her, felt the pounding of his tiny heart, smelled that unique infant smell.

His eyes cracked open for the barest instant, and she grinned up at Kyra. “He has his father’s dark eyes,” she said.

Kyra nodded proudly. “And his cheekbones. He will grow into a handsome young man.”

“What will you name him?” Kyra’s mother asked.

Miriam’s eyes went to the window, to the sunlight streaming in on a house devoid of a man. She was silent for a moment, but her heart poured out a desperate plea. She shook her head. “I will wait and let his father name him.”

It was an act of faith, a hope that her prayer would be answered.

Kyra came and knelt by her cot, took her hand. “How do you feel now, sister?”

“Oh my. I feel like a woman who just gave birth. It was as you said. Already the memory of the pain is fading, but I hold the joy in my arms.”

“But the other thing,” Kyra said. “Now that the birth is behind you, what of the darkness that has plagued you? Is the shadow gone now?”

Miriam looked into Kyra’s eyes and saw fear. She looked into her mother-in-law’s eyes and saw the same. Both of them were waiting for an answer, and it suddenly became clear to her. They were worried that her premonition, this shadow of impending doom that had clouded her mind the last few days, was not about the baby at all, but about Domingo. They were terrified that some deep place in Miriam had sensed the unspeakable.

Miriam smiled. “The shadow is gone,” she said.

It was a compassionate lie, but a lie nonetheless. Still, she was confused, because in her bones she knew—absolutely
knew
, without reservation—that Domingo was alive.

And yet the shadow remained.

She fed her nameless child and held him close, kept him warm—her little piece of Domingo. After a while she was able to eat something herself and then, completely spent, fell sound asleep.

———

When she awoke, he was there.

Domingo. Sitting quietly at her side, holding their son.

“Rachel?”

Rachel glanced over her shoulder, and the worried look on Ida Mae’s face made her heart skip.

“It hasn’t stopped,” Ida said.

A chill ran up Rachel’s spine. For the first time in all her experience as a midwife she didn’t know what to do. In a shaky voice she said to Ida, “Go find Levi. Tell him to get to the nearest Englisher house where they have a phone and call Dr. Beachy in Mount Eaton.”

Emma chuckled. “Don’t worry, child, I’ll be fine. I just always have to do something to make things complicated.”

“Ida,” Rachel said, stopping the older woman in the doorway, “tell him to
hurry
.”

Rachel fought valiantly, using every trick she knew and even inventing a few new ones, but nothing worked. Twenty minutes later she could see the color draining from Emma’s cheeks, and she seemed tired and listless. Rachel’s own breath came quicker, for the situation was getting desperate. If things didn’t change very soon she knew how this could end.

The door hinges squeaked and Ida Mae crept back into the room. Emma lay quiet, her eyes closed.

“I found Levi,” Ida Mae said, putting a hand on Rachel’s shoulder. “He jumped on a horse, bareback, and rode away like a crazy man. Has it gotten any better?”

Rachel shook her head, said nothing. She would not voice her deepest fears in front of Emma.

“Is there nothing we can do?”

“Pray,” Rachel said. And they did.

“I’m cold,” Emma mumbled, “and so tired.” The arm holding Tobe slipped a notch. She didn’t object when Ida reached out and took the baby from her.

Emma lay still for a long time. It seemed like an hour passed before her eyes drifted halfway open and she caught Rachel in an unguarded moment of profound fear, staring at her.

Her eyes locked on Rachel’s, her face ash gray, her voice high and raspy. “Am I going to die?”

Tears came to Rachel’s eyes. “No, Emma, no. The doctor will be here any minute. You just hang on!”

But Emma shook her head weakly. She even tried to smile. “It’s all right, child. I trust Gott. He knows what He’s doing.”

“Rest, Emma. Please don’t talk. Don’t use up your strength. The doctor will be here soon.”

Emma’s chest heaved, her breathing becoming labored. “Oh my. Levi’s not going to understand this at all. Rachel . . . you must help him.”

Rachel fought back tears as she pressed a hand to her sister’s chest and felt the rapid heartbeat. “Emma, please,” she moaned, her voice breaking. “
Please
don’t go.”

Emma closed her eyes and rested for a time. Rachel feared the worst until her eyes opened halfway and stared at the ceiling, at nothing. Her breathing came fast and shallow. “I can’t see,” she whispered.

Emma said nothing else, and in a while there began to be spaces between breaths. As Rachel sat up she heard the crunch of gravel in the drive, and the sound of a car engine. Ida rushed out and brought back the doctor, a plump man in his mid-fifties with glasses and a receding hairline.

“How is she?” the doctor asked as he set his leather bag on the bedside table and wiggled his stethoscope into his ears.

“Not good.” Rachel gave him the bare facts, then took the baby and left the room.

She found Levi in the living room, bent over with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. His hat was gone, his shirttail half out and his chest damp with sweat.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, between gasps. He didn’t even seem to notice the baby she was carrying, so great was his fear.

“You have a son,” she said, holding the infant out to him. “A fine, strong baby boy.”

He made no move to take the child. “Emma?” he croaked, his eyes full of anguish. “Oh, please tell me it’s not Emma.”

“The doctor is with her,” Rachel said softly. It came out almost like an apology, for she was wracked with guilt. Midwife. She was no midwife and wasn’t sure she ever had been. When it came down to it there wasn’t a single thing she could do to save her own dear sister.

Levi grabbed her by the arms and gripped so tightly it was a struggle to keep from dropping the baby. Forgetting his own strength he drew Rachel up onto her tiptoes, and his eyes bored into hers.

“Rachel, do something! You get in there and do something right now! Don’t you let my Emma die!”

Terror and grief and rage all ran together in his eyes, dredging up the unwelcome memory of Jake’s face in a flash of match light that night in Diablo Canyon. Levi’s whole world was spinning out of his grasp and there was nothing he—or Rachel—could do about it.

“Levi, please . . . you’re hurting me.”

Slowly his arms relaxed. He lowered her and then let go.

“Levi, I’m sorry,” she wailed, openly weeping now. “I’m so sorry. There’s nothing any of us can do now but pray. Come, sit on the stoop with me and hold your new son.”

She finally talked him into going outside, where he held the child as if it were a stick of firewood, paying little attention. He reminded her of Ada, rocking himself back and forth exactly the way Ada did when she was frightened, staring across the road with eyes drowning in horror, chanting a brief prayer over and over.

“Please, Gott, please . . .”

They couldn’t have been out there more than five minutes when the front door opened and Dr. Beachy stepped out onto
the porch, holding his leather bag. Rachel didn’t wait for him to speak. She saw it in his eyes. Gently she reached over and took the baby from Levi.

The doctor stood there for a moment, his kind face sagging as he mustered his courage, and then asked Levi, “Was she your wife?”

Levi rose on wobbly legs, shaking his head and murmuring, “No, no, no . . .”