Hidden Mercies (20 page)

“Are you really a helicopter pilot?”

“I was at one time.”

“Levi says you flew a gunship.” Jesse had stopped eating and was totally focused on Tom. “He said it was a helicopter called a Cobra and that you kept bad guys from hurting people like Grace.”

“That is enough, Jesse,” Claire said.

Goodness! A flying vehicle named Cobra of all things! Even the very name gave her the shivers. Shooting people from the air. That is what the helicopter Tom flew had been used for.

How could such a kind-acting man have done such things? How could the fact that he had killed people not be written in his eyes? She was going to have a talk with Levi about telling Jesse such things. The child was far too impressionable. “That sounds very scary,” Amy said.

“It was.” Tom glanced apologetically at Claire, as though he realized how inappropriate it was to discuss such things here in her home. “It was often very scary.”

Claire was torn. She had to protect her children’s ears, and would, but deep down, she wished the children were not here right now so that she could hear every word that came out of his mouth without having to monitor the conversation for her children’s good. He had traveled around the world and seen and done things she couldn’t even imagine, and she wanted to know much, much more about his life.

What all did he have to go through to be trained enough to fly these big, expensive Cobras? Why did a man like himself choose to be a warrior instead of something safer, such as a banker? What did he think about when he was flying around up in the clouds? And most important—why had a man like
him never married? Even with the scars, there was something about him that attracted her, though she was determined to fight that attraction. There had to have been many women over the years who would have been more than willing to become his wife.
Englisch
women, of course—she reminded herself. A good Amish woman would never, ever allow herself to be interested in an
Englisch
soldier.

“I bet it was exciting, though,” Jesse said, a little too eagerly. “Being up in the air, flying wherever you wanted to go. What do clouds look like up close? Do they look as cottony up there as they do down here? Have you ever been in a crash?”

This had gone on long enough. The one thing Claire did not want was Tom’s presence putting ideas in Jesse’s head. The child was hard enough to rein in.

“Now, Jesse—”

To her surprise, Tom cut her off. “May I deal with this?”

She wasn’t thrilled with the idea, but she nodded.

“Jesse, there was a time when all I could think about was getting skilled enough to fly something like one of those Cobras,” he said. “But when you find yourself flying every day over mountains and valleys where there are people constantly trying to shoot you out of the sky, it isn’t exciting, and it isn’t fun. It’s a dangerous job where you know that every mission could be your last.”

“Will you ever get to fly one of those again?” To Claire’s dismay, Tom’s reply didn’t seem to have made a dent in Jesse’s eagerness to talk about things an Amish boy shouldn’t even be thinking about. On the other hand, Claire found herself holding her breath as she waited to hear his answer. Would he be going back to his work? Back to that war? Part of her knew it would be better for her and the children if he left. Part of her wished he would stay.

“I doubt it.”

“Why?”

Tom held up both hands. “Right now, these hands can’t even milk a cow properly. The instrument panel of a helicopter is a lot more complicated than a cow.”

“Were you the only person who got hurt by that bomb that hurt you?” Amy asked.

“No.” Tom didn’t enlarge on that statement, and Claire was glad.

Amy wouldn’t leave it alone. “Are those other people who got hurt all right now?”

“No,” he said gently. “They are not all right.”

Amy cocked her head to one side. “Were they your friends?”

Claire had long ago given up on understanding the reason behind some of Amy’s questions. Her niece had intuition and curiosity that went beyond her thirteen years.

He didn’t hesitate. “They were my very good friends.”

“Amy, that is enough for now.” She could not let this interrogation continue. “Tom, I apologize for my children’s inquisitiveness.”

“There is no reason to apologize,” he said, with a smile. “I am not that fragile.”

That was debatable, but concern for him could not be her highest priority. The look of avid curiosity on Jesse’s face was worrying her. That was one little boy who did not need to have so much admiration in his eyes when he listened to a soldier.

Then again, neither did she.

I
n Claire Shetler’s eyes, Dorcas was little more than a child. At eighteen, her body was not yet completely developed, her bones not properly set. And yet she was having a baby. And it was coming soon.

“Make it stop!” Dorcas cried. “It hurts!”

She tried to coax the girl from the fetal position that, in spite of her big belly, she was trying to curl herself into.

“Dorcas,” Claire soothed, “you can do this.”

The contraction ceased long enough for her to get Dorcas to scoot off the bed Abel had set up in the kitchen and walk a few steps. Then it hit again, and she bent over, calling out for her mother.

Claire wished with all her heart that Dorcas’s mother was here to encourage her, but Lilly Beachy had gone to her Maker only two weeks earlier—while giving birth. This had terrified Dorcas beyond reason.

Claire thanked God that she had not been the midwife at that birth. It was every midwife’s nightmare, losing a patient. So far, all of the babies she had delivered had lived, as had their mothers.

Abel stood beside his wife’s head, a frightened look in his eyes. It was obvious that the young man wanted to bolt but
knew the manly thing to do was to stay in that room. He was only twenty, but looked younger. She gave him points for standing his ground, even if he was completely useless.

“Mommi,”
the girl cried as another wave of contractions washed over her. “I want
Mommi
.”

“Please do something!” Abel pleaded. “I do not believe my wife can stand this much longer.”

The young husband’s terror had grown with each hour as his wife’s labor intensified.

“First babies are seldom easy,” Claire said. “Be patient. Trust the Lord. The child will come.”

“It hurts!” Dorcas pleaded with her. “I want it to stop.”

Not for the first time, she wished she could take the pain of a young mother upon herself. At least she understood the birthing process.

Claire knew what it felt like to be young and scared while bringing a baby into the world. She had been only seventeen when her eldest was born and she well remembered her own terror at the strange pains ripping through her body.

It worried her that Dorcas was losing heart and control. This labor had been particularly intense. Although the Swartzentruber Amish were a stoic bunch, Claire could tell that her young client was close to going into a complete panic.

Claire used her calmest and most reassuring midwife voice. “Dorcas, you are doing so
gut
. You can do this.”

“You are doing so
gut
.” Abel echoed Claire’s words while patting his wife’s shoulder over and over. “You can do this.”

His nervous, repetitious patting grated on his wife’s nerves.

“Stop that!” Dorcas snapped at him.

Claire hid a smile at the startled look on Abel’s face as he jerked his hand away. Under normal circumstances, this sweet, obedient Amish wife would never use such an angry tone when speaking to her husband, but these were not normal
circumstances. She was going through the transition period of labor, those final minutes when the baby entered the birth canal. It tended to make even the most docile woman a bit testy.

“Do you think the water has cooled enough?” Claire asked the young father. “I want to get her into the birthing tub. It will help relieve some of the pain.”

He had been given the job of heating enough buckets of water on the couple’s woodstove to fill the portable birthing pool that she had brought with her. Unfortunately, he had been a little overzealous, overfilling the tub with too hot water. She’d been waiting these few minutes for the water to cool.

Had she been in an Old Order home, it would have been so much easier to prepare for this moment. She would have had access to hot and cold water straight from the faucet. Delivering a baby in a birthing pool in a Swartzentruber household where there was no running water presented a much greater challenge. The task of drawing water from a well, carrying it to the woodstove, and getting it hot was time-consuming. It did, however, give the husband something practical to do.

Abel tested the temperature of the water. “I think it is ready.”

Looking at his callused fingers, Claire felt doubtful about his ability to judge the temperature. She dipped her elbow in to check. “It is ready. You did a fine job. Now help me get her into the water.”

The contractions were coming so quickly, there didn’t seem to be enough time between them for Dorcas to shuffle the few steps to the birthing pool. Abel swept his wife up in his arms and gently slipped her into the water. Even pregnant, the girl weighed so little in the young farmer’s arms that he didn’t so much as grunt. Her loose, white nightgown covered
her just well enough for Claire to do what was needed without embarrassing the father.

The contraction eased, and Dorcas’s eyes widened as she settled onto the small, soft seat built into the bottom of the birthing pool. The water reached just above her waist.

“The warmth will ease some of your pain,” Claire explained. “And the water will soften your skin so that it will be more pliable when the baby comes. You will be holding that sweet babe in your arms soon.”

There had been a time when Claire had not believed the words of an
Englisch
midwife who told her that being in warm water eased the pain of childbirth. Then one of her more experienced mothers expressed a willingness to try it. The mother had climbed into a bathtub filled with warm water and later remarked that this baby had been delivered with much less pain than her other eight children.

Claire immediately ordered a birthing pool from one of her catalogs and had been encouraging her clients to use the birthing pool ever since.

Grace had expressed surprise that Claire would use such a modern invention as a portable birthing pool. This had greatly annoyed Claire, although she tried to hide it. The fact that she was Amish did not mean she would withhold good ideas that would give her clients comfort! It was not as though warm water was some sort of new technology!

Dorcas went into a contraction so strong that it left her gasping when it was over. Abel stood aside, his big fists dangling helplessly at his side, a terrified look in his eyes. Claire had seen that look in expectant fathers’ faces before. It was the expression of a man on the verge of bolting. The poor boy was trembling with the effort it took him to remain in the room.

“Oh, this feels so
gut
!” Dorcas sighed after another contraction
had passed and she relaxed back into the comfort of the warm water.

“You are doing
wunderbar,
” Claire said. “The baby will be here soon.”

She wished she had a nickel for every time she had used those exact words to a laboring mother. Encouragement and praise, she had found, were needed every bit as much as having someone present to catch the baby.

Only a few seconds passed before yet another teeth-clenching contraction rippled through Dorcas’s body. She grabbed her husband’s rough hand and gripped it so tightly that Claire saw him wince. Swartzentruber women were not weaklings.

“We are almost finished, little one,” Claire soothed. “You are very courageous. Your
maam
would be so proud of you!”

Dorcas’s eyes were grateful. “Do you truly think so?”

“Oh, yes. I—”

At that moment, Dorcas obeyed the deep primal call within her and began to push. Claire had not told her do so. There was no need for her to give Dorcas instructions at this point. Something within the girl’s body was forcing her to push.

Claire never ceased to marvel at the intricate clockwork the Lord had installed within a woman’s body. The act of childbirth was a miraculous symphony of natural chemistry.

She had heard that there were highly educated
Englisch
people who actually believed that this process had evolved spontaneously, with no Creator involved. She found this puzzling. The delicate mechanisms and hormones necessary to bring new life into the world were so intricate and a work of such genius that she thought perhaps the people who believed this might have spent a little
too
much time getting educated.

She glanced at the kitchen table, where she had laid out all
of her supplies. Everything was in place. Scissors, a handheld scale, a small oxygen tank in case the baby needed a whiff, clamps for the umbilical cord. She had a device to suction the phlegm from its throat, but she seldom used it. In most cases she’d found it unnecessary. Her experience was that babies who could expel the phlegm naturally with the help of a crook of her finger nursed more quickly and strongly.

As she waited for nature to take its course, she prayed for the baby and for this young couple just starting out in life.

The contraction passed. Dorcas lay back, panting from the effort, and then she began to strain again, so hard that a high keening sound came from her mouth. Oh this girl was a strong one! For her slight build, their Dorcas was a fighter!

“I’m thirsty,” Dorcas gasped as the contraction eased.

The young husband practically fell over his own feet in his hurry to get water for his wife.

Abel might be young, but Claire liked him. He had stayed in this room with his laboring wife all this time, leaving only once to care for their livestock, when many men would have run for the hills.

Claire hoped that remembering his wife’s pain would give him the discipline to see that she did not give birth again too soon! Swartzentruber families tended to have more children than the other Amish sects. It was not uncommon for Swartzentrubers to have twelve children or more. Only last month, she had delivered a Swartzentruber mother’s eighteenth child. She did not have ironclad numbers, but she would estimate that the more moderate Old Order families averaged around seven children per family.