Seasons of Sugarcreek 02. Spring's Renewal Read online

  What was making him even think about Clara, anyway? Was he simply bored and trying to pass the time?

  Or was there a reason every time he talked with her, interest sparked inside him? Had the Lord guided him to this meeting? Was He bringing the two of them together for a purpose?

  “Mom, I’m in trouble,” Lilly said outside her parents’ door at three A.M.

  With a rustle of sheets, both of her parents bolted upright in bed. “Lilly?” her dad said groggily. “Are you sick?”

  She folded her hands over her stomach, trying to ignore the pain that rolled forth. “I’m bleeding.”

  Her mom sat up. “Bleeding? Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  In a flash, her mother reached her side and drew a comforting arm around her shoulders. “We better go to the hospital,” she said, thankfully not asking any more questions about her condition. “Do you need help getting ready?”

  “I’m dressed. Just…hurry, please?”

  Her parents looked at each other in concern. Lines of worry flickered across her father’s forehead as he darted into their bathroom to change.

  Arm still circling her, her mom guided her down the stairs to a living room chair. “Can you sit down?”

  Lilly simply nodded as she sat. But inside, she felt as if every part of her was coming undone.

  Within five minutes, her dad was heating up the car and her mom was waking up her brother Charlie with instructions to take care of Ty and get him off to school.

  The pains grew worse. Every few minutes, her stomach contracted and sharp pulses radiated outward. Lilly clung to her chair for support, then to her mother’s hand as they walked into the garage and then got into the car.

  Seconds later, the tires screeched as her father pulled out of their driveway too fast.

  “Careful, Scott. It’s raining out.”

  “I know Barb.” Glancing at Lilly in the rearview mirror, he caught her eye. “Are you hanging in there, Lilly?”

  She wasn’t. She knew what was happening, what was about to happen. She knew she was bleeding. She knew the pains were getting worse instead of decreasing.

  “Just get there, would you, Daddy?”

  “I promise.” And with that, he pressed the accelerator and they tore off into the night. Lights and stars illuminated their way to the highway, but the fifty-mile trek to the hospital had never been so long.

  As another pain rushed forward, Lilly bit her lip to keep from crying out.

  “Hang in there, Lilly. I’m praying. You pray, too,” her mother said.

  She nodded. It hurt too much to reply. She did close her eyes to pray, but she couldn’t seem to clear her mind. All she was able to focus on were the cramps and the blur of depression looming over her.

  From the front seat, her mother chatted nervously. “Do you think we should have just gone to the twenty-four-hour clinic, Scott? It’s closer.”

  “No.”

  “Maybe we should have just called an ambulance.”

  “We did the right thing. We’ll get her there.”

  “What are we going to do if…”

  “We’ll deal with it then,” he said.

  In the backseat, Lilly continued to let the conversation float over her. There was no sense in taking part in it. She didn’t know what the right thing to do was. She didn’t know if it was all her fault, either.

  For days she’d been feeling funny. She’d had a few cramps, too, but they hadn’t been particularly painful. And all the books had said that five months was past the usual danger zone. It had never occurred to her to worry about a miscarriage.

  But as her stomach cramped and a flash of pain rolled to her back, she was afraid for the worst. Unable to help herself, she breathed a sigh of pain.

  Her mother twisted and looked over the seat. “Don’t give up hope, Lilly.”

  “I won’t.”

  “I know I haven’t been the most supportive person about this pregnancy, but I’ve been changing…” Tears appeared in her eyes.

  Lilly knew she was crying, too. Just a few short weeks ago, she’d been fighting with her parents about whether to keep the baby or to put it up for adoption. It had been an incredibly difficult choice to make to keep the baby.

  No one had been especially pleased about the news. But then a funny thing had happened. Little by little, both her brothers and her parents had started talking about “Junior” in a positive way.

  They’d started teasing her about her changing figure, and even started talking about a future with a little guy in their midst. Lilly had begun to have hope that everything might be okay after all.

  And now this was happening.

  Finally on the highway, her father moved to the left lane and accelerated. Cars on their right became a blur as he passed them.

  “Scott, be careful!”

  “I’m careful. We just need to get there.”

  Leaning back against her seat, Lilly closed her eyes and prayed. She prayed for the baby and for herself and for her parents.

  But most of all she prayed for strength. She knew she was going to need it, and everything else the Lord could provide for her.

  Because just as she’d thought she could never imagine going through anything harder…something more had come.

  The moment they stopped at the emergency entrance, her mother rushed out of the car and inside. Seconds later a team of orderlies and nurses ran out to meet them.

  Lilly was barely conscious of strong arms picking her up and placing her on the gurney. Of the cacophony of voices issuing orders and directives as they sailed through the pair of glass double doors.

  She was vaguely aware of hands probing her with needles and searching for veins. Of the bright lights shining overhead as a pair of nurses helped her undress.

  Of going into surgery.

  But she knew she’d never forget the dull, icy feeling that came when the doctor gravely told her that her baby boy had died.

  That moment was sharp and real and seemed to last for an eternity.

  Chapter 5

  “The Englischer Lilly Allen lost her baby, I heard.”

  Clara looked up from the cream-and-violet blanket she was knitting. “Mamm, are you sure?”

  “Fairly. I heard it from Francis Miller, who talked to Elsa Graber herself. The Grabers are right-gut friends with the Allens, being neighbors and all.”

  “That’s terrible news.” She didn’t know the English girl all that well, but she’d always been impressed with how capable she was. Clara knew it was hard to make your way in the world when you were different, and Lilly’s pregnancy had caused a great many tongues to wag. “When did it happen? Recently?”

  “I don’t know exactly, but Francis told me it was a sudden thing. That it happened in the middle of the night last week or so.” She frowned. “I do feel sorry for her, but she should have expected something like that, I suppose.”

  Though she should have gotten used to her mother’s harsh judgment of others, this pronouncement was unusually callous. “Why do you say that?”

  “She wasn’t married, you know. I think even the English frown on that. God probably took control there.”

  Clara disagreed. She’d long since given up blaming God for every mishap—or praising Him for every blessing. She felt his concern and love with her always. But she also thought their relationship was so much more than Him doling out gifts and punishments for good and bad behavior.

  But her mother didn’t see things that way. In fact, ever since her father had died and Patricia and Ruth had married, she’d been more and more confined to the house—and adopting ever more peculiar notions about the Lord.

  No amount of reasoning ever seemed to change her mind. Clara resumed knitting. She was working on a baby blanket for an upcoming auction. The Englischers enjoyed paying too much for Amish-made crafts—and the money would go to a good cause: the bills for a local family whose baby needed heart surgery.

  Several long moments passed as
they continued their projects in silence. As their needles clicked in unison, the strain built up by their earlier conversation began to subside.

  “Mamm, your project is looking wonderful-gut.”

  “Danke. I think these are turning out nicely.”

  Her mother was working on a pair of potholders. When she was feeling good, she liked making simple crafts for a few of the art shows. Thankfully, she’d been in good health—and in good spirits—for the last few days.

  “I imagine Gretta Graber will be carrying her own baby before we know it.”

  For a moment, Clara had to place in her mind who her mother was speaking of. She still wasn’t used to Gretta’s new married name. “Gretta and Joshua just got married.”

  “Yes, but Francis said they are happy in their little apartment.” Her mother chuckled. “I guess that’s what is to be expected, though. They are young and in love.”

  All this baby talk made Clara sad, though she tried her best to not let it show. It was hard to realize that what was happening to Gretta—and even to Lilly Allen—was not something that could ever happen to her.

  “I hope Patricia writes soon,” Lilly said through clenched teeth. “I think her baby is due within the month.”

  “She did sound terribly excited about it in her latest letter, didn’t she? And it’s her fourth. She could probably use some help.” Worrying her lip for a moment, her mother finished a row, then arranged the yarn in her lap as she began another one. “It’s too bad I can’t spare you.”

  “I’m sure you could spare me if Patricia really did need me. Or, Mamm, I think you should go visit her.” Clara knew little about taking care of newborns, while her mother would be a pro. Besides, she had her job. Her students needed their teacher. And she needed them, too.

  Thinking on it, Clara warmed up to the idea. “Yes, Mamm, a visit to see Patricia and her boppli is a good idea.”

  Her fingers stopped stitching long enough for her to stare at Clara in surprise. “Oh, I couldn’t.”

  “They would enjoy your company, I think. And holding a new boppli would be nice.”

  “Holding the baby would be a pleasure, but even getting to Patricia’s house would be too much for me. She’s at least four hours away by a car!” Shaking her head again, her mother resumed her knitting. “Yes, I would have a difficult time. It is already a trial on me just to stay home all day long by myself.”

  Her mother’s list of complaints and excuses seemed to grow longer each week. “Perhaps we could find a way for you to get some help. A nurse or something.”

  “We can’t afford that, Clara. We are on a tight budget, I’ve told you that.”

  “Perhaps I could look at the bills? Maybe things aren’t as bad as they seem?”

  “No. I mean, bill paying is my job, jah? No, I’m just going to have to stay here and hope and pray that Patricia decides to visit us soon.”

  “But with her new boppli, it doesn’t seem likely.”

  “Then we’ll make do with letters.” Her voice firm, she said, “Yes, we will need to simply keep everything just as it is. I will do my best to get through each day, and count my blessings for you. I will always have you, jah?”

  Clara didn’t mind doing her duty. But what her mother was suggesting felt too difficult.

  A burst of alarm coursed through her. Though her mother had often insinuated that she hoped her youngest would never leave, it now sounded as if she meant for Clara to stay by her side for the rest of their lives. “Mamm, you can’t expect me to always just stay here.” For once, she didn’t even try to hide her emotions.

  Her mother looked at her, surprise evident in her eyes. “You sound as if you don’t want to be around me.”

  “It’s not that. Of course I love you. But one day, perhaps I’ll want to do something else. Maybe move somewhere else…”

  “I hope not. Besides, I do believe staying here with me is your calling. Truly, Clara, I don’t know how I would survive without you.”

  “Mamm, you aren’t ill.”

  “But I feel ill. That’s what counts, jah? Besides, what else you would do if not live with me?”

  A number of things crossed Clara’s mind. She dreamed of marrying and having her own family one day. If that wasn’t her fate, she wondered what it would be like to live on her own, make a home of her own.

  But she didn’t mention any of that. Clara knew her mother would view those reasons as selfish. “I’m not sure,” she said quietly. That, at least was the truth.

  “Well, I have a strong feeling about what you were meant to be doing—and that is living here with me. I guess that’s why you were marked the way you are. So you’d be able to be here with me until my dying days.”

  “I can have children, too, you know.”

  “I know, my daughter. But we can’t ignore your scars. Men would never pick a woman like you over one who is pretty, jah? I don’t mean to be mean, but it’s the truth.”

  Clara wondered if her mother heard herself. How could her words not be taken as mean? For years now, she’d instilled in Clara her vision of her future. How she should never hope for love and marriage. That perhaps the Lord had allowed the grease to spill on her for a reason—so she could better take care of her mother.

  But Clara didn’t always accept that.

  She was just about to tell her that when there was a knock at the door. Pushing her knitting to one side, she hopped up. “I’ll get it.”

  “I wonder who it could even be?”

  The knock rapped hard again. Impatient.

  “Yes, here I am,” she called out just as she pulled open the door.

  To find Anson and Carrie on the other side. “Hello, you two! What a nice surprise!”

  “Hi, Miss Slabaugh!” Anson craned his neck forward, just like a little box turtle, all expectant and interested. “Can we come in?”

  “Of course.” Just as she stepped aside for the two of them, her mother called out.

  “Who is it, Clara?”

  She answered as best as she could, though she was feeling terribly impatient with her mother. Of course she had to have heard Anson’s voice. “It is Anson and Carrie Graber, Mamm.”

  “What do they want?”

  When Carrie’s eyes widened, Clara took care to gentle her voice. “Don’t let her worry you. She’s just curious. Would you two like some cookies?”

  “Yes!”

  “Anson, we were only supposed to deliver our message,” Carrie warned. “Not stay here to visit.”

  “I know, but cookies do sound good. I’m hungry.”

  “I’m glad of that. I’ve got a mighty full cookie jar. My mother and I won’t be able to eat them all by ourselves. Come sit down.”

  Anson followed willingly, Carrie just a few seconds behind him. When they entered the kitchen, Clara was disappointed to see that her mother had left. It was really too bad her mother had retreated into herself so much. It would have been nice for Carrie and Anson to see that she could be a kind woman. And seeing the children might have brightened her spirits.

  It was very telling to see both children visibly relax when they saw it would be just the three of them. Also telling that neither child asked where her mother had gone.

  “Sit down, you two,” she said. “I’ll get you a snack while you tell me the reason for your visit.”

  “We have an invitation,” Carrie said importantly. “We’ve come to invite you and your mother over for supper tonight.”

  Clara was glad her back was facing them because she was sure she wasn’t able to hide her surprise. Though Mrs. Graber had mentioned the invitation, she hadn’t thought it likely that one would actually come. After all, they’d lived within walking distance to each other for years but had never before visited for supper. “Is there a special occasion?”

  “Jah,” Anson said. “We have Tim here.”

  That still didn’t make much sense to Clara. Turning around slowly, she schooled her features to remain calm and collected. “Your cou
sin, yes?”

  “Uh-huh.” Scrunching up his features, Anson turned to his sister. “What did Mamm say about that?”

  Carrie raised her chin. “She said it would be mighty nice if you and your mamm would like to join us because Cousin Tim most likely gets tired of seeing only us.”

  Clara hid a smile. Surely Elsa had been more circumspect than that. “Well, I for one would enjoy your company. If you’ll stay here, I’ll go speak to my mother to see if she would care to join me.”

  Neither child looked up as she exited the room, each was already enjoying the snack.

  Clara didn’t mind. Her mind was already busy, wondering how to best handle the upcoming discussion. Because she already knew that no matter what, she was going. She wanted to go. She enjoyed Elsa’s company, and Judith’s as well.

  And if she was able to see Tim again…well, that would be a very nice thing, indeed.

  “Mother?” Clara asked as soon as she entered her mother’s dimly lit room. “Why did you leave?”

  “I wasn’t interested in seeing those two.”

  “They’re interested in you. Would you care to join us for cookies?”

  “No, I would not.” Looking at Clara with a bit of distrust, she said, “Why are they here, anyway? It seems strange that you’d be inviting your students here.”

  “They brought with them an invitation. They invited us to supper tonight.”

  “Both of us? To their home?”

  “Yes, of course. Where else?”

  Suspicious eyes looked her over. “What did you tell them?”

  “That I would be pleased to accept and that I would ask you. What would you like to do?”

  Her mother’s face was so expressive, Clara felt that she could read her mind. She was obviously waging the pros of dinner out and new gossip verses her preference of staying at home and having everyone come to her. “How would we get there?”

  “We could walk—”

  “I could never go that far.”

  “Or we could take the buggy of course,” she said reasonably.

  “The buggy takes almost as long.”

  Clara fought a smile. Her mother had gotten so good at only seeing the negatives, she didn’t realize that her reasonings now sounded almost comical. Patiently, she said, “Mother, they are waiting. What would you like to do?”