To Love and to Cherish (37 page)

Thomas waited for Emma to go in front of him before he hobbled up the stairs. He wanted to say something, but the knot in his throat wouldn’t allow it. She looked like she might drop any second, yet she bustled in the room, fluffing pillows and adding a quilt to the twins’ bed. It had been nice of her to offer their room, moving them to hers. She knew he couldn’t be with her there and he had to be with Rebecca right now.

Doctor Miller did another examination after laying Rebecca on the bed. “Looks like we’ve got it under control. Nothing to do now but keep her hydrated until it runs its course.” His sober gaze encompassed
both of them. “In other words, give her plenty of fluids, water, and juice if she can keep it down. Give her ibuprofen for the fever. If it spikes again, stick her back in the tub and call me—come get me. Immediately.”

Thomas tried to take it all in. Fear and fatigue muddled his brain. Unsure how much he would remember, he longed for a pencil and paper to write the instructions down. “What about her fingers and toes?”

“You got her inside in the nick of time. Keep an eye on them, but they’ll be fine.”

Doctor Miller stuck out his arm until his sleeve rode up enough that a wristwatch showed. “It’s been a long night. Gonna be even longer for y’all, I’m sure. I better go check on those babies before I go.”

“Babies?” Thomas tore his thoughts away from Rebecca for a second. Maybe his hearing had been affected by the fall. “There’s more than one?”

“Yep.” Doctor Miller smiled broadly. “Two healthy little girls. I should’ve known when Luke said the baby was breech. That can signal a multiple birth.”

Nodding, Thomas barely heard the words. His mind flew back to his daughter. His baby girl. “So we do nothing more for Rebecca right now?”

“Now all you can do is wait for it to pass. Let her sleep. Keep a close eye on her.” The doctor shoved his glasses up his nose with one finger. “Most of my patients get through this flu pretty well, but it’s rough on some of them.”

Thomas didn’t want to wait. He wanted her better now. A doctor should be able to do more.

Waiting reminded him of Joanna’s last days. Waiting for her to get better, knowing she was going to die.

He hated waiting.

E
mma watched the emotions whirling across Thomas’s face as he hovered near Rebecca’s bed, trying to hang on to Doctor Miller’s instructions. Exhaustion etched itself around his eyes, worry around his mouth. Their evening stumbling around in the dark looking for his daughter had left its mark. Inside and out, from the looks of his face. He looked as if he were holding himself upright by sheer force of will. The slash on his forehead looked dark and angry against his fair skin. She switched her gaze to Doctor Miller. “Before you go back to the babies, what about Thomas? Do you think you should look at his forehead?”

“It’s fine.” Scowling, Thomas waved a hand. “Just a little scratch.”

Doctor Miller peered through glasses perched on the end of his nose. “Hmm, Emma is right. That’s more than a scratch. A few stitches are in order.” He pointed to a single straight-back chair situated between the room’s two windows. “Sit there. Emma, you can help me with my supplies. I’ll need more light. Do you have another lantern?”

Grateful to be of use, Emma did as he asked. She handed the doctor items as he requested them. She wondered if this were what it felt like to be a nurse. The image of the bloody, dead coyote assailed her. She wanted nothing to do with blood. She bit her lip until the pain made her stop. “He hurt his leg, too, Doctor.”

“Aha. When were you going to tell me about that?” Doctor Miller snipped a thread and dropped the scissors in the basin Emma held. “Give it up, Mr. Brennaman.”

Glaring at Emma, Thomas growled and then explained the tumble he’d taken by the stream.

“Emma, I think maybe you should wait outside now.” Doctor Miller cancelled out Thomas’s glare with a kindly smile. “I’ll want to take a quick look at that hip.”

Emma slipped out. Silence reigned. She peeked in her bedroom. Annie and Catherine had finally gone to bed, the twins sandwiched between them in a tight, snug row. In the boys’ room snoring wafted from Mark’s bed. The younger boys didn’t move. Everyone was down for the night, except Josiah, who nodded at her from a chair in the corner where he sat peeling off his socks. She withdrew and continued down the hallway. Not a sound came from Leah and Luke’s room. Emma longed to see the babies. She wanted to hold them and inhale their sweet, baby smell.
Patience
.

Her head aching more with each step, she plodded down the stairs. Despite being tired, she twitched with nervous energy. She sat. Stood. Began to pace the floor.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, Doctor Miller clattered down the stairs. Behind him, Thomas hobbled more slowly.

“I checked on the babies. Your aunt has everything under control. If anything changes with Rebecca, give me a call—I mean come get me. Especially if the fever doesn’t come down tomorrow.” Doctor Miller set his bag on the table and tugged on his gloves. “Right now, I’m going home to get some sleep. The missus has probably forgotten what I look like.”

“How much do I owe you for a home visit?” Thomas grasped the banister with one hand, a look of pain on his face.

The doctor waved his hand. “I was already here, but you can stop by my office sometime next week and settle up for the rest.” He slapped a furry cap on his bald head. “No hurry.”

Emma showed him to the door. A gust of damp wind rattled the
eaves until she managed to get it closed again. She faced Thomas. “How’s Rebecca?”

“No change.”

“I’ll make coffee.” She rubbed gritty eyes. “What did the doctor say about your leg?”

“Pulled a muscle. Bruised it. Nothing’s broken. It’ll be fine in a few days.” He limped to the chair closest to the fireplace, sat, and held his hands out to the flames. “Is Josiah back yet?”

“Yes, he came in a few minutes ago. Everything is fine. All the children are down for the night.”

When he didn’t respond, Emma went to the kitchen and put fresh coffee in the filter and set the metal coffeepot over the flame on the gas stove. Just the aroma of the brewing coffee revived her. She watched the coffee percolate in the clear knob on the lid, half mesmerized. She might be sleeping, standing up. The even sound calmed her nerves and gave her time to gather her wits. She’d killed a coyote and helped save Rebecca. She was now the aunt of newborn twins. All in one night. She set out the mugs. Familiar routine grounded her. She poured the steaming liquid and let the scent roll over her.

Carrying the mugs, she returned to the front room, pleased to realize her hands didn’t shake. She didn’t spill a drop. Thomas slouched in the chair, chin down, eyes closed. Emma set the coffee on the table and watched him sleep for a few seconds. His guard down, he looked so much younger.

He straightened and opened his eyes. “I want to thank you again.” He looked up, his brown eyes dark with emotion. “You saved her.”

He stood and hobbled until he was within arm’s length. “I know you didn’t want to shoot that animal, but you saved my daughter’s life.”

“I wasn’t afraid to shoot it. I was afraid I would miss,” Emma whispered. Her heart leapt in her chest, each beat painful. “Then what would I have done?”

“You didn’t miss.” His hand came up as if to touch her. She stopped breathing. The hand dropped. “God was with you.”

“We should check on Rebecca.” She handed him the mug. Now her
hand shook. His fingers wrapped around the mug, brushing against hers. She couldn’t take her gaze from his. “After you drink your coffee.”

“Jah, you’re right.” He backed away and sat down again. “I know it’s a long time until the wedding season, but I want to ask you to marry me. When the times comes.”

“Because of tonight?” The room spun around her. Emma plopped down in the rocking chair. “Because I shot the coyote? Because I took care of Rebecca?”

“No. Yes. No, it’s…because…” He ducked his head. “You know why.”

She closed her eyes and savored the unmistakable emotion in his voice. Then cold reality darkened the light that had shone all around her. Thomas didn’t know about Carl and the letters. Would he still want her, knowing how close she’d come to going back to a man who’d left his wife for her? What would he think when he knew that Carl had a wife and child and yet pursued Emma?

“Will you marry me?” The harsh rasp of his voice said everything rode on her response. “I need an answer.”

She cleared her throat and forced herself to meet his gaze. “I have unfinished business.”

He flinched as if she’d slapped him. “Carl?”

“Yes.”

He set the mug on the end table and stood. “Then I have my answer.”

“No! No. I just need to talk to him first.”

He crossed his arms. “About what?”

“It’s between him and me.” Emma placed her mug on the end table. “But it’s not what you think.”

“If there’s something between you and him, there can be nothing between you and me.” Pain flickered in his eyes, and then disappeared. His features hardened. “I take back my earlier question.”

“Don’t do that.”

“I’m trying to make this easier for you.” He limped away until he stood near the fireplace. The air seemed colder in the space he left behind. “You share something with Carl.”

“No. Only a past.” A past that had wormed itself into her present and now her future. If only she could make it go away. “What is past is past.”

“Then what do you have to talk about?”

If she told Thomas, would he understand? Or take back his question forever? “He’s done something—something unforgivable.”

“Nothing is unforgivable. Tell me what it is.”

“I can’t. If I do, you’ll have to…you’ll have to do something about it.”

“Like what? Tell the bishop?”

“Yes.”

“So you should tell the bishop.”

“I want to give him a chance to do it himself. If he doesn’t, I will.”

“If you feel the need to protect him, then I have my answer.” His face stony, Thomas turned his back on her and held his hands close to the flames. “Just don’t let him bring you down with him.”

“No, Thomas, please. I’m not protecting—”

“Look what we have here.”

Emma’s attempt to make things right was lost in the delighted sound of Aenti Louise’s voice. She whirled to see her aunt coming down the stairs, a tiny bundle in her arms. Luke descended behind her, a second bundle gripped as if it might shatter. He had that loopy grin on his face again. She rushed to the stairs. “How are they?”

“See for yourself!” Aenti Louise held out her bundle. “Meet Esther.”

“Esther. What a beautiful name.” Emma started to hold out her arms. She wanted to gather the little bundle against her chest. No. She’d been exposed to the flu repeatedly over the last two weeks. “I shouldn’t get too close. The doctor says Rebecca has the flu.”

Esther’s tiny red face scrunched up. She opened her mouth and wailed. For a little thing, she had a mighty fine set of lungs. “Oh my goodness, you’re fine.”

Aunt Louise backed away, concern on her wizened face. “You’re right. Best not get too close. There’ll be plenty of time for that later.”

“Jah, Leah will need everyone’s help.” Still grinning, Luke held up his bundle. “This is Martha.”

“She’s beautiful.” Tears trickled down Emma’s face. She brushed them away. Tears of joy mixed with tears of pain. Thomas didn’t understand. She knew who she wanted to be with. To have and to hold forever. As soon as her unfinished business with Carl was done, she would show Thomas how much she cared for him. “I don’t know why I’m crying. Tired, I guess.”

“In awe, maybe.”

Thomas’s voice made her turn. “Can you believe it? More twins.”

Thomas shrugged. “They run in your families.” The anger was gone from his face, replaced by a sadness that broke her heart. His eyes were black with emotion. “Merry Christmas.”

Emma sank onto the bottom step. She’d completely forgotten. “Merry Christmas.”

“I’d better get back to my girl.” He brushed past her and limped up the stairs without looking back.

C
hristmas morning dawned so crisp and clear, it hurt to breathe the ice-cold air when Emma went out to sweep off the front porch. Still, it helped brush away some of the cobwebs in her brain. She went back inside and trudged up the stairs to the room now occupied by Rebecca. After only a few hours of sleep grabbed under a quilt, she felt as if she were sleepwalking. Rebecca had slept in fits and starts, crying out with dreams that sounded horrible. Thomas had finally insisted Emma try to get some sleep. Her own dreams had been troubled.

She knocked lightly to give Thomas warning, and then poked her head in the door. She needn’t have worried. Thomas sat in a chair next to the bed, reading an old copy of
The Budget
. Rebecca still slept. Thomas looked over the top of his reading glasses. “Good morning.”

Not warm, not cold. Like an acquaintance. So be it—for now. “Good morning.” Emma tiptoed across the floor and touched Rebecca’s forehead. Still warm, but not as bad as the previous evening. She breathed a tiny prayer. Rebecca opened her eyes. “Teacher! Am I dreaming? What are you doing in my bedroom?” She wiggled, stretched, and looked around. “This isn’t my room.” She sagged against her pillow. “Daed?”