The Tempted Soul (22 page)

Carrie would have expected Joshua to leap to his own defense with the sarcastic temper she’d seen signs of in her own kitchen. But he merely gazed at Abe as though he were a new species of bull, pawing the ground, but safely behind the fence.

Instead, Melvin spoke up.

“Everyone in Whinburg can believe what they want, but I’ll believe what I’ve seen with my own eyes. Joshua has lent me a hand around my farm and never asked a penny for it. He did it out of friendship and because he saw a need. He’s never given us any reason not to trust him.”

“I heard a few rumors along that line,” Abe snapped.

Carrie swayed as though she’d been slapped.

“Then you need to close your ears and use the brain God gave you,” Melvin said quietly. He put a steadying hand on the small of her back.

Carrie had never heard Melvin speak in such a way to anyone, much less a man so much older than he, and in front of the bishop to boot.

“My wife and the bishop’s wife have been trying to help Lydia. Maybe you ought to think about that more than these rumors you’ve been listening to.”

“Don’t you—” With a glance at Daniel, who was being admirably silent, Abe reined in his temper. “It don’t matter if they’re true or not. A godly man would be making an offer to the girl, not letting her be publicly shamed.”

How could Lydia stand it? He sounded so holy, as if he’d never committed a sin or had a single fault in his life—or done his share to shame her.

“I have already proposed marriage to Lydia, and she turned me down.”

It took a moment for the bishop to regroup. Behind the lenses of his glasses, he blinked rapidly. “In that case, Lydia,” he finally said in a tone that was almost gentle, “I beg you to reconsider this decision. Joshua can offer you and your child a home. If he has been willing to make you his wife, do you not think you can accept him?”

“
Nei
,” she said. “I told him I was leaving Whinburg and that he was welcome to come with me. He didn’t want that, so…” She shrugged.

“I am glad to hear he was not willing to give up his salvation for you.” Daniel looked at Joshua, who had no answer. He gazed at his feet, at the quilt on the bed against the wall, at the door. Anywhere but at Lydia. “So you will not marry him.”

“
Nei
. This baby will be adopted by an
Englisch
couple, I hope, and I will be leaving.”

“Leaving Whinburg, or leaving the church?”

For the first time, Lydia hesitated. “Leaving Whinburg.” Carrie couldn’t imagine what would happen if she said she was leaving the Amish in public. Would Abe be put under
die Meinding
for raising such a disobedient child? Would they all be told they could no longer give her assistance?

At least Lydia wasn’t willing to risk that. Carrie wouldn’t put it past Abe Zook to take it out of her hide if she put him in that position—even though his neglect had likely led to it.

What would the bishop do now? He had clearly expected Lydia and Joshua to obey. Had he made a second plan?

“Lydia, what you have said grieves me,” he said at last. “I must consult with the ministers and pray on this matter. We do not want you to leave, or your baby either.”

The set of her thin shoulders and the purse of her mouth told Carrie that Lydia didn’t believe it.

The bishop dismissed them, and Melvin took Carrie’s hand and hurried her out of the room. But afterward, a kind of gloom seemed to hang over them as they ate the simple lunch of bread and
Buhnesupp
the women set out. Conversation was hushed. Even if the others didn’t know what had been discussed, the simple fact that they had been spoken to privately was enough to cause a waterfall of silent speculation.

Not for the first time, Carrie thanked God that she was a woman and would never have to find the slip of paper in a copy of the
Ausbund
that would point to her as the next preacher, minister, or bishop—a responsibility that ended only with death. She did not have to oversee the affairs of the congregation, both natural and spiritual.

She had enough of a battle to oversee her own.

S
o Joshua Steiner has chosen the way of God after all.” Melvin shook the reins over Jimsy’s back, and they turned onto the wide shoulder of the highway. The township always plowed it all the way across the shoulders to accommodate buggies as well as cars, but with the sudden warm-up, the banks had slumped into slush and the road was running like a river. There would be black ice tonight. “When I hired him to help us out, I have to say, I had my doubts.”

“The way he behaved sometimes, it was no wonder.” Carrie tucked the buggy blanket more firmly around her legs. “He’s like the prodigal, only he came to the end of himself after he came home, not before. I’m glad you stood up for him. We all need someone to stand in the breach for us—especially when it comes to Abe Zook.”

“Abe Zook needs to spend less time listening to gossip and more time listening to the Lord. Speaking of coming home, Brian and I are going back up to Rigby tomorrow to sign papers. I’ll be back Tuesday by noon. After all this, will you be all right?”

“I’m not going to move a muscle except to go to Amelia’s to work on the baby quilt for Lydia—and I’ll walk. I don’t trust these roads.”

“I guess Abe is giving her a pretty hard time. Foolish girl.” Melvin shook his head. “The bishop practically hands her a husband on a plate, and she turns him down.”

“I hope Joshua has the courage to ask another girl someday.”

Melvin huffed a laugh. “
Ja
, though after this, even Esther Grohl wouldn’t take him. But Carrie, it gave me peace about this business of her child.”

“Peace?” Did he mean he had not had peace up until today?

She wished she could have some peace. Her heart was a whirlwind of shame for Lydia and pity for Joshua. The girl who eventually had the courage to marry him would have to live with the defiant ghost of Lydia Zook for as long as people’s memories lasted.

“
Ja
. I know you were disappointed about the baby. But it was the right decision. Think of the child of a girl like that—stubborn, proud, disobedient.”

“Children aren’t always exactly like their parents,” she said quietly, just loud enough for him to hear over the wet clop of Jimsy’s hooves and the hiss of the wheels. “You can train those things out of a child.”

“Well, no matter. You and I will not have to do it, will we?”

No, they wouldn’t. And that night, after they said their prayers together, Carrie lay in the dark and silently prayed what she could not say aloud.

Father, help me to forgive him for taking this chance away from me—and have peace about it. I know that all peace comes from You, but Lord, I beg You for a portion. I wanted the chance to convince her it would be right for the baby to have a home and parents who would love it. Is that so bad? O Father, help me to submit—to You and to Melvin both. Take this resentment out of my heart by the time he gets back on Tuesday, so I can kiss him with lips that don’t lie.

It seemed as though the
gut Gott
had answered her prayers when she hugged Melvin good-bye in the yard and he kissed her soundly, while Brian Steiner looked out over his horse’s ears and tried not to smile. She waved the buggy out of sight and then tugged her shawl around her more tightly.

The Lord gave His people work to do to keep their minds and thoughts out of
Druwwel
, and work she did—Monday being wash day. Since Melvin was not home to make a big supper for, Carrie ate leftovers with the appetite of a woman who has done four loads of laundry by hand in a wringer washer. She pegged it out on the line Joshua rigged for her in the new loft, moving around Joshua and his tools, where the warmth from the animals rose to dry it. Of course, that meant carrying the heavy baskets up the ladder, but at least the clothes wouldn’t be frozen to planks in the morning.

“Another cold one tonight,” Joshua said as he gathered up the reins at the end of the day. “I want to get over to Mamm and Daed’s before dark. I heard on the radio at Hill’s that there were six car accidents due to black ice in the county last night, and tonight is shaping up to be as cold. I hope you brought lots of firewood in.”

“Melvin made sure of it.” Their conversation had been like that all afternoon—just pleasantries and small talk. No mention of what had happened the day before. Maybe that was a good thing. Carrie patted the buggy door and stepped back, and his horse started forward.

There might be things in life she didn’t have, but the things she did have were what mattered—a snug, well-insulated house, a husband who showed his love in the little things he did, and one last slice of the Dutch apple pie she’d made on Saturday.

The only time she got to eat and read simultaneously was when Melvin wasn’t there to tell her not to. She’d borrowed a lovely big book on gardens from all over the world at the library, and after she finished her pie, she hung over it, drinking in the beauty of drifts of bluebells in England, of knot gardens made of herbs in Virginia, and of fountains and topiary in Italy.

When footsteps pounded up the steps and someone knocked so hard they could only have been using their fists, she practically screamed in fright at being jerked back to real life.

Good heavens, it was nearly ten o’clock!

She ran to the door and peered through the four glass panes at eye level, but she couldn’t see a thing. Someone was in trouble, that was clear.

She yanked it open.

“Oh Carrie.” Sarah Grohl stood shivering on the porch, tears running down her face and a knot forming over her eye that would be very ugly by morning. “Help. I need help.”

Carrie grabbed her arm to pull her into the warm kitchen and the girl gasped in pain. “I think I broke something.”

Carrie released her as though she’d been burned. “I’m so sorry. What happened? Oh Sarah, please come in and sit down before you fall down. I’ll—”

“I can’t. You have to come. You have to help her.”

“Who? Where?”

“Lydia,” Sarah gasped. “We were driving back from…from seeing a movie, and the road was so slippery…and some
Englisch
guys went by in a car and honked the horn and it scared the horse and it slipped and, oh Carrie, you have to hurry. I think it made the baby come.”

Oh, dear heaven help them all.

Carrie pulled on her heavy boots and wound a thick woolen scarf around her head. She donned Melvin’s wool work coat and buttoned it up to her chin. “Where is she?”

“At the cutoff that goes down to the creek. The horse jumped sideways into the ditch, and when she tried to get out of the buggy, it tipped and threw both of us out.” Sarah stopped, gasping for breath. “Hurry. She’s lying on the ground and it’s so cold.”

“Sarah, I’ll go. You run next door and ask them if you can use the phone. Call nine-one-one and get them to send an ambulance.”

The girl gaped at her, teeth chattering.

“Sarah, go!”

“I don’t need to.” She turned sideways. “In my pocket. I can’t move my arm to get it out.”

Carrie reached in and pulled out a cell phone. This was no time to ask her why she had one—only a time to be thankful she did. “Call nine-one-one. Tell them where she is, and then tell them where you are. They’ll help you with your arm. I’ll go down there now.”

She dashed into the guest room and snatched up the heaviest quilt she could find, then pushed out the door. Behind her, she heard Sarah’s quavering voice explaining to someone who she was, and then the door slammed and the silence of the night surrounded her, huge and unforgiving. The only sound was the crunch of melted and refrozen snow under her feet as she ran.

Not a soul was out on the highway as Carrie crossed it, for which she thanked the
gut Gott
. Her boots had rubber soles with heavy treads, but even so, she skated over half the ice-slicked passing lane before regaining her balance and picking up her pace—half run, half fast walk.

Let her be all right. Let the baby be all right. Please let help get here in time.
she chanted, half under her breath, in time with her jogging steps.
Please, Lord. Please don’t let them be hurt.

A horse snorted in the dark and its hooves clattered. She’d startled it, running up on it. “It’s all right, boy. It’s okay, it’s only me.”

By some miracle the buggy had righted itself as the horse had pulled it out of the ditch and back onto level ground. But she didn’t have time to make sure the animal was all right. It was too dark to see, anyhow.

“Lydia? Lydia, where are you?” If she had been frightened before, the silence terrified her. “Lydia!”

Tracks. Gashes in the snow. Ah, the snow. It had probably cushioned the buggy so it hadn’t gone all the way over—just enough to make the girls slide violently against the door and fall out. There were no locks on them, after all, not like
Englisch
cars.

She followed the deep scoring through the bank and down into the ditch. Ten steps away was a patch of darkness deeper than the blue of abused snow.

“Lydia!” Carrie fell to her knees beside her and put a chilled cheek next to her open mouth. Breath fanned against her cold skin.

“Thank You,” she whispered. “Oh, thank You.” She patted Lydia’s face—almost as pale as the snow. Her eyes were open. That was good. “Lydia, can you hear me?”

She groaned—as welcome as a choir of angels singing. Carrie shook out the quilt and tucked it around and under her as best she could. Her instinct was to slip her hands under Lydia’s armpits and haul her up to the highway, but she didn’t dare. If her back was hurt—or her ribs—or the baby—

Lydia groaned again, and it ended in a shriek. She said a word Carrie had never heard any Amish woman say before, no matter how provoked.

“Lydia?”

“It
hurts
!”

“Where does it hurt?”

“I’m having a
baby
!” She shot Carrie a glare of disgust and stared up at the starry sky. “I got to ninety-two. Where am I?”

“You were thrown out of the buggy. Do you know who I am?”

Her eyes rolled in Carrie’s direction, then closed as the contraction—or some other, more terrible pain, Carrie couldn’t tell—receded. “Carrie. Where—”

“You’re in the ditch on the county highway. Our drive is closest. Sarah came and got me. The ambulance is on its way.”

“I don’t want this.”

“Of course you don’t.” She kept her tone low, soothing, the way she’d spoken to the edgy horse. “Nobody wants to be in an accident. But it wasn’t your fault.”

“The baby! I don’t want it to come.”

“Oh
Liewi
. Wait until you hold him in your arms. We’ll get you into the—”

“
Nei
! 
” Her voice rose to a shriek. “Don’t—want—”

In the cold and the misery and the darkness, Carrie’s heart broke for the poor little
Bobbel
. Unwanted from the very beginning. Could the baby hear its mother screaming such words? Would they pierce its heart the way they pierced Carrie’s now? Would they go deep, and come up in some awful way in its later years—a memory long buried but waiting to do some terrible damage?

“Breathe, Lydia.” She’d been with Susan for her last delivery. Being number four, little Silas had come much faster than any of them had expected. “Little short breaths. Lots of oxygen to help you ride through the pain. Go on. Like this.” Carrie panted—no hard task, since she was still half out of breath from running.

In the distance, she heard the wail of an approaching siren.
Thank You, Lord
.

“You breathe, Lydia. Don’t stop panting. I’m going to go tell them where you are.”

“
Nei!
 ” Pant, pant. “I don’t want it!” Pant, pant, pant.

Good enough. Carrie scrambled up the slope, snow falling into her boots and going up the sleeves of her coat. Flashing lights crested the hill and she waved her arms.

Headlights flooded her and the ambulance tried to stop, skidded on the ice, and began to swing sideways. Carrie screamed as the rear bumper missed the horse by a shin’s width, then rocked to a halt on a patch of asphalt that had managed to dry from passing traffic earlier in the day.

The EMTs jumped out, one of them swearing a blue streak and the other hollering at him about the horse.

“Over here!” she shouted. “She’s down the bank!”

They yanked a stretcher out of the back and tossed a big red case on it, then followed her, their boots pounding in syncopated time.

What a blessed relief it was to hand over the responsibility to men who knew what they were doing. “She’s having a baby,” she told the nearest one, who was checking Lydia’s pulse. “I don’t know how badly she’s hurt.”

“Never rains but it pours,” he said cheerfully, apparently recovered from nearly wiping out the Grohl horse and buggy with his ambulance. “Are you the one who called?”

“No. Sarah—”

“Lydia?” came a call from up the slope. “Carrie?”

“Is that the broken arm?” the other man asked. “Tell her to stay by the truck—we’ll take them both in soon as we get mommy here stabilized.”

Carrie struggled up the hill and told Sarah what the man had said. “Is she all right?” Sarah’s eyes were huge, and her face pale and drawn in the light from the interior of the ambulance.

“She’s awake. She talked to me. I have to get back down there. Don’t move.”

They had worn such a path in the snow that she got down the second time much faster than the first. The EMTs had put a big thick collar around Lydia’s neck and were just lifting her onto a hard board. As she watched with a kind of incredulous horror, they pulled big pieces of tape off a roll and ran it across her forehead, then across the collar. She’d lost her
Kapp
somewhere in the snow and Carrie hadn’t noticed until now. With a tearing sound, they pulled straps across her chest, her hips under her huge belly, and her legs.

“Ready, honey? We’re going to carry you up the hill. Don’t worry, you won’t fall off. The C-collar’s to keep your head still in case your neck is hurt. Here we go.” The two of them lifted the board as though she weighed nothing, and, carefully placing their boots in the snow and mud, carried her up the slope.

“Carrie,” Lydia called weakly.

“I’m here,
Schatzi
.” She fumbled for her hand. How cold it was—cold as the snow itself.