Holiday Greetings From Amish Country

The Midwife’s Christmas Surprise by Marta Perry

Three years ago, the man Anna Zook hoped to marry left her and their Amish community for the English world. Now devoted to proving her abilities as a midwife, Anna has given up on marriage and children for herself. But when Benjamin Miller returns, now a changed man, can delivering a Christmas baby reunite these two hurting hearts?

A Christmas to Remember by Jo Ann Brown

When a little girl leads shop owner Amos Stoltzfus to an Amish woman in distress, he rushes them to his family’s farm. “Linda” has no memory and doesn’t know if the sweet child is her daughter or even her kin. As Christmas arrives and Linda’s identity is revealed, will Amos be able to claim his holiday guests as his own?

Praise for Marta Perry

“Terrific family story, touching throughout…

Kudos to Marta Perry for such an inspiring novel.”

—RT Book Reviews on Mission: Motherhood

“Marta Perry writes a warm, loving story…”

—RT Book Reviews on A Soldier’s Heart

“Marta Perry is synonymous with sweet, loving romance!”

—RT Book Reviews on A Father’s Place

Praise for Jo Ann Brown

“The story is rich with relatable struggles and characters.”

—RT Book Reviews on Amish Homecoming

“An engrossing story.”

—RT Book Reviews on A Hero for Christmas

“Brown’s latest is a sweet tale of the transformative power of love.”

—RT Book Reviews on Promise of a Family

A lifetime spent in rural Pennsylvania and her Pennsylvania Dutch heritage led MARTA PERRY to write about the Plain People who add so much richness to her home state. Marta has seen nearly sixty of her books published, with over six million books in print. She and her husband live in a centuries-old farmhouse in a central Pennsylvania valley. When she’s not writing, she’s reading, traveling, baking or enjoying her six beautiful grandchildren.

JO ANN BROWN has always loved stories with happy-ever-after endings. A former military officer, she is thrilled to have the chance to write stories about people falling in love. She is also a photographer, and she travels with her husband of more than thirty years to places where she can snap pictures. They live in Nevada with three children and a spoiled cat. Drop her a note at joannbrownbooks.com.

Amish Christmas Blessings

Marta Perry

Jo Ann Brown

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CONTENTS

Cover

Back Cover Text

Praise

About the Author

Title Page

The Midwife’s Christmas Surprise

A Christmas to Remember

Extract

Copyright

THE MIDWIFE’S

CHRISTMAS SURPRISE

Marta Perry

This story is dedicated to my husband, Brian, with much love.

If anyone has caused grief, he has not so much grieved me as he has grieved all of you…

—2 Corinthians 2:5

Contents

Dedication

Bible Verse

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Dear Reader

Chapter One

If the door to the exam room at the birthing center hadn’t been ajar, Anna Zook would never have heard the hurtful comment.

“...so long as you’re the one to catch the baby, and not the Zook girl. She’s too young and inexperienced to be birthing my first grandchild.”

The door closed abruptly, cutting off anything else that might be said, but Anna recognized the speaker—Etta Beachy, mother-in-law of one of her partner Elizabeth’s clients. Despite the fact that Anna had been a full partner in the midwife practice for over a year, many in Lost Creek’s Amish community still saw her as the quiet, shy girl she’d been when she began her apprenticeship with Elizabeth.

The December chill outside seemed to seep into her heart. Would the people of Lost Creek ever accept her as midwife, or would she always be walking in Elizabeth’s shadow?

Anna tried to concentrate on the patient record she was reviewing, but the doubts kept slipping between her and the page. It was natural enough that folks turned to Elizabeth, she told herself firmly. Elizabeth Miller had been the only midwife in the isolated northern Pennsylvania Amish settlement for over twenty years. It would just take time and patience for them to accept her, wouldn’t it?

The door opened, and a little parade came out—Etta Beachy, looking as if she’d just bit into a sour pickle, her daughter-in-law, Dora, who looked barely old enough for marriage, let alone motherhood, and Elizabeth, whose round, cheerful face was as serene as always.

Small wonder folks trusted Elizabeth—she radiated a sense of calm and assurance that was instantly soothing. Much as Anna tried to model herself on Elizabeth, she never quite succeeded in doing that.

A blast of cold air came into the outer office as the front door opened, and Anna spotted young James leap down from the buggy seat, clutching a blanket to wrap around his wife.

Elizabeth closed the door behind them and turned to Anna, rubbing her arms briskly. “Brr. It’s cold enough to snow, but Asa says not yet.”

Anna nodded, knowing Elizabeth, so confident in her own field, trusted her husband implicitly when it came to anything involving the farm. Maybe that was the secret of their strong marriage—the confidence each had in the other.

“You heard what Etta said, ain’t so?” Elizabeth’s keen gaze probed for any sign that Anna was upset.

“Ach, it’s nothing I haven’t heard before.” Anna managed to smile. “Naturally Etta feels that way. She’s known you all her life.”

“Then she ought to trust my judgment in training you.” Elizabeth sounded as tart as she ever did. “I think Dora might be happier with you, being closer to her age and all, but she’s too shy to venture an opinion different from Etta’s.”

“It will all be forgotten when they see the baby. When are you thinking it will be?”

“Most likely not until well after Christmas.” As if the words had unleashed something, Elizabeth’s blue eyes seemed to darken with pain. She glanced out the side window toward the farmhouse, making Anna wonder what she saw there other than the comfortable old farmhouse that had sheltered generations of the Miller family.

“Elizabeth?” Anna stood, moving quickly to put her arm around her friend’s waist. “What is it?”

“Ach, nothing. Just foolishness.” Elizabeth shook her head, but she couldn’t disguise the tears in her eyes.

“Tell me,” Anna said gently, longing to help.

The older woman brushed a tear away impatiently. “Nothing.” She bit her lip. “It’s just...this will be the third Christmas without Benjamin.”

The name struck Anna like a blow to the heart. She forced herself to concentrate on Elizabeth’s pain, not allowing herself to recognize her own. “I know,” she murmured. “Perhaps...” Anna tried to think of something reassuring to say, but what was there?

Benjamin, Elizabeth and Asa’s third son, had walked away from the Amish faith and his family three years ago. And her. He’d walked away from her, as well.

“I’m sorry,” she said finally, knowing how inadequate it was. Elizabeth didn’t know there’d ever been anything between her son and her young apprentice, and that was probably for the best, given how things had turned out.

Elizabeth sucked in a breath and straightened. “Asa doesn’t want to talk about Ben’s leaving. I try not to burden him with my sorrow. But oh, if only our boy would come home to us.”

“Maybe he will.” Did she wish that? For Elizabeth’s happiness, for sure. But for herself—how would she manage if Benjamin did come back?

“I keep praying. That’s all I can do.” Elizabeth pressed her cheek against Anna’s for a moment. “Ach, I must get back to the house and start some supper. Are you coming now?”

Anna shook her head. “I’ll finish cleaning up here first.”

She’d lived with the Miller family since she’d come from Lancaster County as apprentice to Elizabeth. Each time she’d suggested she might find a place of her own, it had led to such an outcry that she’d given up, knowing Asa and Elizabeth meant it. They treated her as the daughter they’d given up on having after their four boys. How could she walk away from that?

Once Elizabeth had gone, Anna moved slowly around the four-room center, built by Asa and his sons so that Elizabeth would have a place close to home for meeting patients. Still, many of their mothers preferred having babies at home, so the two of them spent hours each week traveling from one Amish home to another.

When she found herself rearranging the stack of towels in the cabinet for the third time, Anna forced herself to recognize the truth. She was avoiding the thing she didn’t want to think about—the beautiful, painful truth of her relationship with Benjamin.

Anna stood at the window, but she wasn’t seeing the frigid winter landscape. Instead she looked up into the branches of the apple tree in the side yard, feeling the soft breeze of a summer evening brush her skin.

She and Benjamin had come home from a family picnic at the home of Ben’s grandparents, and they’d loitered outside for a few minutes, watching the fireflies rise from the hay field and dance along the stream.

Ben had been telling her a story of climbing to the very top of the apple tree in response to a dare from one of his brothers. He’d fallen when a branch broke and broken his arm, but he didn’t seem to regret it, laughing at the memory. That was Ben, always up for a dare.

She’d shifted her gaze from the branches to his laughing face, meaning to chide him for such foolishness, but her gaze became entangled with his, and her breath caught, the words dying.

Ben’s eyes, blue as a summer sky, seemed to darken as he studied her face. His gaze had lingered on her lips. And then his lips had found hers, and a totally unexpected joy exploded inside her.

She’d never known how long they’d stood there, exchanging kisses, laughing that it had taken them so long to recognize the feelings between them, talking about a wedding. When she’d finally slipped into the house and up to her room, she’d held the warm assurance of his love close against her.

And the next day he’d been gone, leaving only a note for his parents saying he was going to see something of the world.

Anna tried to shake off the memories. She seldom let herself relive them, because the aftermath had seemed so painful. No one knew about her and Ben, so she’d had to pretend that her pain was only for Ben’s family, not for herself.

After three years, it should have become easier. One night—that was all she had to block from her memories.

A final check around the center, and she was ready to go. She was just slipping on her coat when she heard a car pull up by the front door.

Anna frowned. One of their Englisch clients? No one was scheduled to come in today. She could only hope it wasn’t an emergency.

Footsteps sounded on the porch, and she hurried to the door. She flung it open almost as soon as the knock sounded and stumbled back a step, the familiar room spinning around her.

The man standing on the porch wore boots, jeans and a black leather jacket zipped up against the cold, but he wasn’t an Englischer. He was Benjamin Miller.

* * *

Of all the ways Ben had thought about his homecoming, the one he hadn’t pictured was coming face to face with Anna Zook. She’d changed—that was his first automatic thought. He’d left behind a tender girl whose face had glowed with the impact of first love. Now he faced a woman who wore her maturity like a cloak around her.

“Anna.” He said her name heavily, embarrassment and sorrow mixing in his tone. He didn’t doubt he’d hurt her when he’d left. She had plenty of reasons not to welcome his return. “It’s been a long time.”

The words seemed to jolt her out of a daze. “Three years,” she said tartly. “None of us have forgotten.”

She seemed already armed against his return. Maybe that would make things easier. Whatever else happened here in Lost Creek, he couldn’t hurt Anna again.

“I guess not.” He gestured toward the door. “Mind if I come in?”

For an instant he thought she would slam it in his face. Then she nodded and stepped back, standing silent as he entered.

He looked around with appreciation. “The birthing center wasn’t finished yet when I left. It looks good.”

“Your father and brothers did fine work on building it just as your mamm wanted.”

Was that a reminder that he hadn’t been here to help? Probably so. He turned slowly to face her, letting his gaze drift over her. The honey-brown hair seemed to have lost its glints of gold, but maybe that was because it was December, not August. He’d always picture her under the apple tree on a summer night, her heart-shaped face tilted toward his, her green eyes lit with love.

“You’ve changed.” It was inadequate, but it was the only thing he could think to say.

“People do in three years.” She glanced at his leather jacket and jeans. “You have.”

She couldn’t know how much. If Anna’s face showed her added maturity and assurance, his must be a map of disappointment and betrayal.

Time to leave behind this fruitless conversation and move on to the family. “Is Mamm at the house?”

Anna nodded, warily it seemed. “She went over a few minutes ago. We’ve finished with the patients for today, unless there’s an emergency.”

“I guess I’d best go and face the music, ain’t so?” The familiar Pennsylvania Dutch phrase fell easily from his lips after training himself not to use it. He half turned toward the door and found that his feet didn’t want to move. Coward, he told himself.

Still, his gaze sought Anna’s face again. “My family—is everyone well?”

“So far as I know.” She bit her lower lip, as if she’d like to say something else but restrained herself.

“If you’re ready to go, I’ll walk over with you.”

She hesitated, and Ben recognized her reluctance. He opened the door, waiting, and Anna walked out with him.

The farm he’d grown up on spread out before him, the grass turning brown with winter’s cold, the fruit trees bare. Resting, Daad would have said. Everything rested in winter, building up strength for the spring.

Funny. He’d never expected to cherish the most common of sights—the spring wagon parked beside the red barn, the windmill spinning in the strong breeze, the chickens pecking at the earth inside their pen, hunting for a forgotten bit of grain.

He’d left because he’d thought he didn’t belong here. He’d learned the hard way he didn’t belong in the outside world, either.

Could he come home again? They’d reached the back door that led into the kitchen. He was about to find out.

Anna hesitated on the step. “Maybe I should wait. Give you time with the family...”

“Mamm always said you were part of the family. There’s no reason I can see to back off now.” He may as well face all the people he’d disappointed at the same time. He seized the doorknob, turned it and stepped inside.

Daad and Joshua were sitting at the table. Mamm stood at the stove. All three of them turned to stare, seeming immobilized with shock. He waited, all the words he’d rehearsed deserting him.

Daad recovered first. He set down his coffee mug with a thud, his keen blue eyes fastened on Ben’s face. Daad looked much the same—lean and wiry, his skin weathered from working outside. His beard was a little longer, a little grayer, that was all.

“So,” he said. “You’ve come back.”

It wasn’t exactly the welcome given to the prodigal son, but he guessed it would have to do. “Ya,” he said. “If you’ll have me.”

Daad’s face was impassive. “It’s your home.”

As if he’d been waiting for Daad’s reaction, Joshua scrambled to his feet, grinning. “It’s gut to see you, Ben.”

“Can this be my little bruder?” Ben grabbed his shoulder. “You’re near as big as I am.”

“What do you mean, near as big? I am as tall, ain’t so?” Joshua, the youngest, had always been eager to catch up with his brothers.

“Maybe so.” He was already looking beyond Josh to where his mamm stood, her hands twisting her apron.

The pain in her eyes shook him, and his heart wrenched. His throat grew tight. “Forgive me, Mammi,” he murmured.

Tears filled her eyes, but to his relief they were tears of joy, not sorrow. She held her arms wide. “My Benjamin. You’ve komm home to us.”

Ben stepped into her embrace, his heart overflowing with mingled grief and happiness. Grief for the pain he’d caused her—happiness at feeling her forgiveness wash over him in a healing flow.

If he could truly mend anywhere, it would be here. Mamm, at least, welcomed him with all her heart, despite the pain he’d caused.

Still holding her, he looked over her shoulder at the others. Josh, too young and too openhearted to hold a grudge, was still grinning. Daad—well, Daad was going to be more difficult. He was reserving his opinion, Ben thought. Not quite ready to go back to normal with the son who’d disappointed him so badly.

Anna stood with her back to the door. Anna had plenty of reason not to trust him. And right now she looked as if she thought welcoming him home was the worst idea in the world.

Chapter Two

It seemed to Anna that Elizabeth hadn’t stopped smiling in the past twenty-four hours. She’d always known how much Elizabeth missed Benjamin and longed for his return, but she hadn’t even realized how much that was reflected in her face. Elizabeth looked as if she’d shed ten years in a single day.

Anna led the buggy horse to the gate and then turned him into the field. Buck seemed to shrug all over, as if delighted to be rid of the harness. He sniffed the icy grass and then broke into a gallop, racing to where the other horses stood at the far end of the field.

Smiling at his antics, Anna headed for the house. She’d volunteered to take the home visits today, so that Elizabeth could be free to enjoy Benjamin’s return.

But Anna couldn’t deny that she’d had another motive, too. She’d been just as eager to get herself well away from Benjamin’s disturbing presence.

Her steps slowed. She’d thought having time alone during the drive would give her a chance to come to terms with Benjamin’s return. Unfortunately her thoughts just kept spinning around and around like the windmill blades in a strong wind.

Enough, she told herself. Was she reluctant to accept his return because she worried that he’d hurt his family again? Or was her concern more selfish?

When Anna put it to herself that way, she couldn’t help but see the answer. Christians were called to forgiveness. They could only be forgiven as they forgave. If the rest of Benjamin’s family could forgive him and welcome him back, then she must, too.

Holding on to the resolution firmly, she marched into the house. As always at this time of day, Elizabeth was in the kitchen. She was bent over the propane oven, her face flushed as she pulled out two apple pies, their crusts golden brown and the apple juices bubbling up through the vents.

“That wouldn’t be Benjamin’s favorite pie, would it?” Anna forced warmth into her voice as she stowed her medical bag on its shelf by the door.

“Ach, you caught me.” Elizabeth transferred the pies to the wire cooling rack and turned, smiling.

Anna’s heart gave a little thump. Elizabeth was so happy. How could Anna be skeptical of anything that made her feel that way?

“He’ll appreciate those, I know.” Surely nothing he’d found in the outside world could match his own mamm’s cooking. “Can I do anything?”

Elizabeth surveyed the pots on the stove top. “I don’t think so.” She glanced toward the clock. “Ben went out to cut some greens for me. I felt like getting ready for Christmas today. Maybe you’d go out and help him bring them to the porch. It’ll soon be time for supper.”

Well, she’d offered to help. Elizabeth wasn’t to know that helping Ben...seeing Ben...was the last thing she wanted at the moment. All Anna could do was smile.

“Right away. Do you know where he went?” The woods began across the field behind the barn and stretched up to the ridge that sheltered the valley.

“That stand of hemlocks, I think. He knows I like the little cones on the greens to put on the windowsills.”

Nodding, Anna buttoned her coat again and went back out into the cold. The brittle grass crackled under her shoes as she walked, and she scanned the skies for signs of snow. But the only clouds were light, wispy ones moving lazily across the blue.

It might be silly for a grown woman to be longing for that first snow of the winter, but she couldn’t seem to help it. She loved running outside to feel the flakes melting on her face. She and her sisters used to vie to see who’d be first to catch a snowflake on her tongue.

A glimpse of black jacket among the hemlocks told her where Benjamin was, and she veered in his direction. Maybe it would be natural to wave or call out, but nothing felt natural when it came to Ben. Just the slightest glance from his deep blue eyes seemed to turn her back into the girl who’d thought she’d soon be a bride.

He had his back turned to her. The wheelbarrow next to him was full of green branches, and the clippers he’d been using lay atop them. Maybe he’d spotted a deer or a pheasant and was watching it, standing so still.

The clothes he wore were Amish, the black jacket a bit snug over his broad shoulders. Had he grown since he’d been gone? He certainly seemed taller and broader to her. The black pants and heavy shoes made her wonder what had become of the jeans and leather jacket. He wouldn’t need them if he meant to be home for good.

Well, of course he’d come home to stay. He wouldn’t be so unkind as to let his family believe that if it weren’t so, would he?

His voice startled her. For a moment she thought he’d spoken to her, and then she realized he stood immobile because he was talking on a cell phone. Not so surprising, but still...

Don’t judge. She had a cell phone herself, as well as the phone in the center. It was difficult to be a midwife to a widespread practice without one. She didn’t use the phone casually, marking off for herself the line between what was accepted and what was bending the rules.

Ben might have a difficult time adjusting to living under the Ordnung again after his time out in the world. They’d all have to make allowances for him.

“That’s not true.” Ben’s voice, raised in what might have been anger, came clearly to her ears. “Whatever happened between us is over.”

Anna froze. She shouldn’t be overhearing this. But she’d already heard. Should she make her presence known or attempt to creep silently backward?

“All right.” Ben snapped the words. “I’ll see you again, but not until I’m ready.”

Anna took a step back, and a branch snapped beneath her foot, loud in the still air. Ben spun. His glare nailed her to the spot. She’d seen his eyes merry and laughing and teasing. And tender, filled with longing. But she’d never seen them freeze over with anger.

He clicked the phone off. “Eavesdropping, Anna?” The words were edged with ice.

Heat rushed to her cheeks. “Your mother sent me out to help you. I didn’t realize what you were doing until...”

Her defense withered under his cold stare. When had he gotten those lines around his eyes, that tenseness in his jaw? That was new. Was that what the outside world had done to him?

“It didn’t occur to you to let me know you were here, ja?” He bent to pick up the wheelbarrow handles. “You’ve done your duty. I’m coming. Why don’t you run back and tell my daad that I was out here talking on my cell phone?”

A wave of anger came to her rescue. “I’m not a child, and I don’t tattle on people.”

“No.” His gaze drifted over her. “I can see you’re not a child, Anna. You’re all grown up now.”

Her anger edged up a notch at the way he’d looked at her. “Your clothes don’t make you Amish, Benjamin. If you’re not ready to leave the Englisch world, maybe you shouldn’t have komm.”

If anything, his face got tighter, until he didn’t look remotely like the boy she’d loved. “Mamm may say you’re like a daughter to her, but you’re not family. It’s not your business, so leave it alone.”

Shoving the wheelbarrow, he strode off toward the house.

Anna stood where she was, fists clenched. So much for her resolutions. Maybe she could forgive Benjamin for what he’d done in the past. But what about what he planned to do in the future? How could she ever trust him again?

* * *

Ben walked into the kitchen after supper, intent on a last cup of coffee. The quick cadences of Pennsylvania Dutch came from the living room, where everyone was settled for the evening, Daad reading aloud something from the latest issue of the Amish newspaper, Mamm sewing and Josh whittling a tiny boat destined for their brother Daniel’s oldest for Christmas. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed the sound of his native tongue, and it soothed his soul.

But he was leaving out someone. Anna was there as well, her lap filled with the baby shawl she was crocheting for Daniel and Barbie’s youngest. When he’d said she wasn’t part of the family, he’d wanted only to hurt her. Not only had that been unkind, it hadn’t been true. Maybe she was more a member of the family than he was.

Standing at the counter, he stirred sugar into the coffee, his spoon clinking against the thick white mug. Mamm had already lined the kitchen windowsill with the greens he’d brought in. Amish might not have the Christmas trees that were everywhere in the outside world, but that didn’t mean they didn’t celebrate the season of Christ’s birth in their own way.

A light step sounded behind him, and Ben knew without turning that it was Anna. Funny, how his view of her had changed. He’d thought her a quiet little mouse of a girl when she’d first come to stay with them. But he’d learned she had considerable spirit behind that quiet exterior. Today she’d turned it against him in reminding him that clothes didn’t make him Amish, and he didn’t like it.

“Ben.” Her voice was soft. “May I speak with you for a moment?”

He turned. If she intended to reiterate her opinion of him...

Anna’s heart-shaped face was serious, and a couple of lines had formed between her eyebrows. “I want to apologize.” She seemed to have trouble getting the words out. “I had no right to speak to you the way I did. I’m sorry.”

She’d disarmed him, taking away all the things he’d stored up to say.

“It’s okay. I know you’re just concerned about Mamm.”

Some emotion he couldn’t identify crossed her face, darkening her eyes. “She’s not my mother, but I do care about her.”

“I know.” His voice roughened despite his effort at control. “Believe me, I don’t want to hurt her.”

He already had, hadn’t he? Ben backed away from that thought.

“Gut.” Anna hesitated. “I hope you’re home to stay. It would mean so much to your family.”

Would it mean anything to you, Anna? He shoved that thought away, not sure where it had come from.

“A lot has changed since I’ve been gone. I can’t believe how Josh has grown. And think of Daniel and Barbie, having two kinder already. And I suppose Joseph will be next.”

That brought a smile to her face, warming her eyes and showing him the beauty other people didn’t seem to see. “I’ve never seen your mamm so nervous as when Barbie’s little ones were born. She said I had to catch them because she couldn’t, but believe me, she watched every move.”

Ben leaned against the counter, cradling the mug in his hands as he studied her face. “So you’re a partner now, not an apprentice. That’s great.”

Anna wrinkled her nose. “Now if we could just convince our clients of that...”

“Not willing to admit you’re all grown up, are they? Folks are slow to move forward here, ain’t so?”

She nodded, and again he saw that flicker of some emotion saddening her eyes. Did it worry her that people might still favor Mamm to deliver their babies?

They’d be wrong to discount Anna. There was a lot more to her than most folks thought, he’d guess. For an instant he saw her face turned up to his in the moonlight, alive with joy. Did no one else see that in her?

“Why aren’t you married yet, Anna?” The question was out before he realized that it would be better not spoken. Talk about butting in where he didn’t belong. “Sorry, I shouldn’t...”

Daad came into the kitchen, interrupting the difficult moment. He glanced from Anna to him and then moved toward the coats hanging by the back door.

“I’m going out to check the stock. Komm with me, Ben?”

“Sure.” Daad was getting him out of a difficult moment—that was certain sure.

Grabbing the black wool jacket that Mamm had put away in mothballs for his return, he followed Daad out the back door.

The air was crisp and cold, making his skin tingle. And the dark—he’d forgotten how dark it was on the farm after living for three years with constant electric lights everywhere. The yellow glow from the windows faded as they walked toward the barn. Daad switched on the flashlight he carried, sending a circle of light ahead of them.

Ben tilted his head back. The stars were so bright it seemed he could reach out and touch them. “How bright the stars are here,” he said, his breath misting in front of his face.

Daad grunted. “No other lights to dim God’s handiwork.”

Daad had never lost an opportunity to point out God’s presence in their lives. He’d always said that it was a blessing to be a farmer, because it was as close as one could get to Heaven.

But right now, Daad wasn’t doing much talking. If they were going to communicate, it was probably up to him.

“You extended the chicken coop, I see.”

Daad flickered his flashlight in that direction. “The roof was getting bad, so we decided to replace the whole thing. Just took a day with everyone helping.”

Everyone but him, he supposed Daad meant. He couldn’t deny that. “I can’t believe how Josh has grown. He’s a man already.”

A grunt of agreement was Daad’s only answer. This was going to be an uphill battle. He hurried to shove back the heavy door before Daad reached it.

Their entrance was greeted by soft whickers from the stalls. Daad lit the propane lantern, and the interior of the barn emerged from the gloom.

A wave of emotion hit Ben, startling him by its strength. Why would he be so moved by the barn? Maybe it was the assurance of Daad’s routine. Nothing really needed to be done with the stock at this hour, but still, Daad never went to bed without a last check, just as Mamm had to check each of her kinder. Ben had been proud the first time Daad considered him old enough to come along on the evening round.

He stepped to the nearest stall, reaching up to run a hand along the neck of the buggy horse that nosed him curiously. “You’re a handsome fellow.” He stroked strong shoulders. “The gelding’s a good-looking animal. He’s new, ain’t so?”

“Went all the way down to Lancaster County for the livestock auction last spring to get him.”

Daad sounded as proud as an Amish person was likely to, pride being a sin. Funny, how the Englisch world seemed to consider it right and proper.

“Looks like you got a gut deal.”

He moved to the next stall, to be greeted with a nuzzle that nearly knocked his hat off. Dolly, the black-and-white pony they’d all learned to drive with. Her muzzle was a little gray now, but she looked fine and healthy.

He patted her, letting the memories flood back...driving the pony cart up the road to the neighbor’s farm, the day he’d thrown himself on Dolly’s back and urged her to gallop, the feel of the ground coming at him when she’d stopped suddenly, objecting to being ridden.

“Suppose I should have sold Dolly to someone with young kinder.” Daad stood next to him, his gaze on the pony. “But she’s gut with Daniel’s young one when he comes over.”

Besides the fact that Daad wouldn’t have wanted to part with her. Ben understood that—he wouldn’t, either.

“There’s something I need to say to you, Benjamin.” Daad’s voice was weighted with meaning. “Your mamm and me...well, we’d always thought that the farm would go to you when we were ready to take it a bit easier. I guess you knew that.”

He had, yes. It had been an accepted thing. Amish farms typically went to one of the younger sons, because they came of age when fathers were ready to take it a bit easier. And Ben had been the one who’d loved the farm more than Josh, whose mind was taken up by all things mechanical.

Maybe that had been in his mind that last night, when he’d seen himself settling down, marrying Anna, taking over the farm when it was time, building the next generation. It had closed in on him, reminding him of all the things he hadn’t seen, hadn’t done.

“Still, when you stayed away so long, we had to face the fact that you might not be back. So we decided the farm would go to Joshua. He’s young yet, not settled, but I’m good for a few more years.” Daad flickered a glance at him, then focused on Dolly. “Only fair to tell you. I don’t think it right to change our minds again. This is still your home, but it’ll go to Joshua, not you.”

It shouldn’t have hit him like a hammer. He should have expected it. After all, it was only right. He’d made his choice when he left.

He forced himself to nod, to smile. “Joshua will do a fine job, I know.”

It was only now, when it was out of his reach, that Ben realized how much this place meant to him.

Chapter Three

Anna had no need to cluck to Buck when they came in sight of the Schmidt farm on the way back from home visits a few days later. Buck knew that his own barn would soon be appearing and knew, too, that there’d be a treat for him once he was unhitched.

“Easy, boy.” Anna said it with indulgence in her voice. Given the leaden skies and cold temperatures, she’d be glad to get into the warm farmhouse kitchen, rich with the scents of whatever Elizabeth had decided to treat her menfolk with today.

The fencepost that marked the beginning of the Miller fields came in to view, with someone in the usual black coat and black felt hat bending over the post. He looked up and waved, and she saw that it was Ben. She pulled the mare to a halt at his upraised hand.

Ben smiled up at her, lines crinkling around his blue eyes. “A ride home, please?” he asked.

“For sure.” She gestured toward the seat next to her. If he could act as if things were normal between them, so could she.

He climbed up, settling on the seat, and Buck flicked an ear back in recognition of the extra weight.

“Komm, Buck, you remember me, ain’t so?”

Anna had to smile at his teasing. “He’s not used to having another person along on home visit days.” Anna snapped the lines, and Buck moved on.

“You’ve been doing most of them, seems like.” Ben shot a glance at her face. “Mamm’s all right, isn’t she?”

“Ach, ya, she’s fine. I think she feels having me take over more of the home visits might push folks into accepting me.”

Elizabeth hadn’t actually said so, but Anna could read her pretty well. After all, it had always been the understanding between them that Anna would take over more of the practice as Elizabeth wanted to slow down.

“How’s that working out?” Ben had a trick of lifting one eyebrow when he asked a question that always seemed to cause a little flutter in her heart.

Anna forced herself to concentrate. “Pretty well, I think. Etta Beachy even let me check out her daughter-in-law today. Reluctantly.”

He chuckled. “Sounds like Etta hasn’t changed much. Always has to have everything her way, ain’t so?”

Anna shrugged. “She wants the best for her first grandbaby.” And she didn’t think Anna was the best. She didn’t say that aloud, of course. And she certain sure didn’t confide the thing that was weighing on her.

Elizabeth seemed sure Dora’s baby wouldn’t arrive until the New Year, and she’d had plenty more experience than Anna had. But based on her examination today, Anna would have guessed a good week or two earlier.

She’d reminded Dora that babies could easily arrive two weeks early or two weeks late, just to have Etta pooh-pooh the notion that her grandson would show up any earlier than the date she’d determined, January 6, Old Christmas, which was her husband’s birthday.

Anna hadn’t felt up to taking on an argument about the baby’s sex, either. She sent Dora a meaningful glance, relieved to see a smile and a shrug in return. Maybe Dora wasn’t as cowed by her formidable mother-in-law as she’d thought.

Ben put his hands over hers on the lines, startling her, and she realized they’d nearly run right into the barn, buggy and all.

“Ach, sorry. I was woolgathering.” She looped the lines and scrambled down before Ben could offer to help her.

“Problems?” he said lightly, coming around to start the unharnessing.

“No, nothing at all.” She kept her head down, focusing on the job at hand.

“I see.” He patted the mare’s neck. “If you decide to talk to somebody, I know how to keep a secret. And I owe you.”

For an instant she was struck dumb. Was he talking about her not saying anything about his phone call? Or was that by way of being an apology to saying he loved her and then vanishing?

If she didn’t know, it was surely best to say nothing. She managed to glance at him with a smile. “Only a midwife’s menfolk would find it possible to talk about the birth of a boppli in mixed company.”

Ben grinned. “The rest of them pretend they don’t even notice a babe is coming until it is safe in its cradle.”

As Anna reached up to pull off the headstall, Ben grabbed it first. “You go in and warm up,” he said. “I’ve got this.”

“But you don’t know about Buck’s treat when he is unharnessed,” she said lightly. “You might make a mistake and try to give him a carrot.”

“He’s a fussy one, is he?” Ben pulled the harness free. “What is it? A sugar cube?”

“That’s right.” Anna held it on her palm, feeling Buck’s soft lips brushing her skin as he took the sugar.

“Spoiled thing,” Ben teased.

“A midwife’s buggy horse has to be ready for a lot of unexpected trips,” she said. “He works for his sugar.”

Anna led the gelding toward the paddock while Ben carried the harness to its rack. It was easy, it seemed, to get back to the kind of teasing conversation she’d once had with Ben. Too easy? She couldn’t risk falling for him all over again.

Opening the gate, she released the horse. Buck trotted a few steps and then stopped, lifting his head and sniffing the air.

Snow! Anna saw the first few flakes nearly as soon as the horse did. She tilted her head back, scanning the sky for more.

“What are you doing?” Ben had reached the gate without her noticing.

“Snow,” she said, unable to keep the glee from her voice.

Ben chuckled. “I’d near forgot that you’re like a kid when it snows.” A sudden breeze sent a cluster of snowflakes dancing across the paddock. Buck whinnied, pranced in place for a moment and then trotted around in a circle, head tossing.

Ben laughed. “Or maybe like the horse. Sure you don’t want to run around in a circle, too?”

“Nothing wrong with getting excited about the first snow.” She could hear the defensiveness in her voice.

Ben clasped her by the wrists, and she looked up at his face. “Nothing at all wrong,” he said gently. “I’m glad of it, Anna. Makes me feel like I could shed a few burdens and trot around, too.”

Still holding her wrists, he swung her around, his face lit with laughter. “We’ll both celebrate, ain’t so?”

Laughing, Anna swung around with him, face tilted back to feel the flakes on her skin, until she was breathless.

“Stop, stop.” She grabbed his forearms, feeling solid muscle under the layers of fabric. “What if someone saw us?”

“They’d think we were a bit ferhoodled.” He stopped, so suddenly she might have fallen if not for his strong hands holding hers.

For an instant they stood staring at each other, and she felt her heart turn over. Then he was stepping away. “We’d best get inside and get warmed up. Josh will be wanting to get the sleigh out if this keeps up.”

He sounded perfectly normal, as if he’d felt nothing at all in that moment when her heart had twisted.

Anna took a deep breath of cold air, knowing her cheeks were burning. So. She’d told herself she could get back to the way they’d been before the night she’d known she loved him. She’d been wrong. Their relationship was a lot more complicated than that.

* * *

“I’m telling you, Ben, this is going to be a great winter for snow. Grossdaadi says the woolly bear caterpillars predicted a real snowy winter. We have to get the sleigh ready.”

Grinning, Ben followed his younger brother up the ladder to the upper loft in the barn. In some ways Josh, despite his size, was still the little kid brother he’d always been.

“Okay, okay, I said I’d help you get the sleigh ready and I will. Just don’t blame me if it sits high and dry for half the winter.”

“It won’t,” Josh said confidently, scrambling the rest of the way into the loft and reaching back a gloved hand to tug Ben up beside him.

“There she is,” Josh said proudly. “Let’s get it uncovered and down to the barn floor.”

“Easier said than done.” Ben gave a mock grumble, but truth to tell, he’d have done something a lot harder to have this time to get reacquainted with his little brother.

Together they rigged up the sleigh to the hook used to move bales and lowered it to the floor. Josh was so eager to get at it that he would have tumbled down the ladder if not for Ben’s steadying hand.

“Take it easy. The sleigh’s not going anywhere.”

“I know.” Josh grinned. “Boy, it’s gut to have you home again.” He sobered, as if wondering whether that was the right thing to say.

Ben gripped his shoulder for a moment. “Me, too.” Regret swept over him. He’d let Josh down when he’d left, not even thinking of him. Dan and Joseph were enough older that Josh would never have confided in them. There seemed no end to the lives affected by his leaving.

Josh chattered as they worked on the sleigh, wiping away the dust that had accumulated over the summer and removing every speck of rust from the runners. “And besides, Anna loves to take the sleigh out. She’ll be surprised when she sees it’s ready. Anna does so much for everyone, I want to do something nice for her. She really is like a big sister to me.” He sent a sidelong glance at Ben, as if to see how he was taking that.

Ben figured the safest thing he could do was nod. Obviously everyone in the family would have been happy if he and Anna had married. He couldn’t marry to make other people happy, but given how strong an attraction she still had for him, maybe...

No maybes, he told himself. Whatever he did or didn’t do here, he couldn’t hurt Anna again.

“Anna says...” Josh paused, polishing vigorously at an already shining runner.

When he didn’t go on, Ben elbowed him. “Go ahead. What does Anna say?”

Josh rubbed even harder. “She says I should just tell you what I feel.”

What now? “Go ahead.” He braced himself.

“I guess Daad told you about his plans for the farm?”

“Ya, and it’s fine.” He hastened to assure him, hoping he sounded convincing. “You deserve it. I’m happy for you.”

“But that’s just it.” The words burst out of Josh. “I’m not happy. I don’t want it.” He clamped his lips shut and glanced around as if afraid someone had heard.

Ben felt a frown knotting his forehead. “But how can you not want a farm like this?”

“You say that because it’s your dream,” Josh said. “Just like it’s Daad’s. Nobody understands that I might want something different.”

Josh’s voice had risen, and Ben put his hand on the boy’s arm.

“Hey, it’s okay. Just tell me what you want.”

“What I always wanted. You know I always liked working with machines better than anything. I’m the one who fixed the generator when it stopped, remember? And I rebuilt that baler when everyone else gave up on it, too.”

He couldn’t help but be moved by the passion in Josh’s voice. “If you feel that way about it, won’t Daad understand?”

“I tried. He just doesn’t see. He thinks it’s fair that I have the farm, and he won’t change his mind.” Josh turned his face away, obviously not wanting anyone to see his emotion.

Here was something else to be laid to his account, it seemed. But what could he do? A look at his brother forced a decision. He had to make this right for Josh, somehow.

He grasped his brother by the shoulders and shook him gently. “Listen, we’ll work it out somehow. Let me think on it, okay? There must be a way.”

“Denke, Ben.” Josh’s expression lightened. “Anna said I should talk to you, and she was right. She always seems to understand.”

In other words, Anna had been trying to fill the gap he’d left in his little brother’s life. He wanted to resent it, but he couldn’t. Anna had paid him a compliment, in a way. She’d trusted he’d find a way to make this right for Josh. He just hoped her faith wasn’t mistaken.

Chapter Four

Anna sliced through the dough on the cutting board, turning out the homemade noodle squares that Elizabeth would drop into her chicken potpie. They’d been able to come home early today, with few people venturing out into the snow.

Trying to keep her mind on Elizabeth’s voice wasn’t easy when her thoughts were completely absorbed by those moments with Ben out by the paddock the previous day. His laughing face as he’d spun her around had even intruded into her dreams. There, she’d been spinning faster and faster until she flew against him and his arms closed around her.

She had to stop this, now. Benjamin had been so frightened at the thought of marrying her that he’d left his whole world behind. It was hardly likely his feelings had changed now.

“I said, it’s a gut thing no one is due today or tomorrow,” Elizabeth said...or rather, repeated, since it was apparent that Anna hadn’t heard her before.

Focus, Anna ordered herself. “That’s certain sure. We don’t need any women in labor bouncing around trying to get here through the snow.”

Once the snow had decided to start, it hadn’t let up, and there was four inches at least on the ground. They’d have a quiet time of it until the roads were clear, and it always took some time for the township plows to arrive.

Anna rubbed her forehead with the back of her hand, trying not to touch anything with her floury fingers. Unless she wanted to go around in a constant state of confusion, she’d have to find a way to show Ben that she didn’t harbor any lingering feelings for him. Then they could be comfortable together, couldn’t they?

“Komm, Anna, tell me what has your forehead so tight? That’s the third time you’ve rubbed it in the past half hour.” Elizabeth stirred down the chicken broth that had come to a boil. “I know when you’re worried.”

But she’d never guess the cause of Anna’s worry, and Anna didn’t dare tell her. “Ach, it’s nothing. I was just thinking about Dora Beachy. I’m concerned that boppli might be arriving sooner than anyone expects.”

“Ya?” Elizabeth turned to her instantly. “Did you say anything to her?”

“I didn’t like to, since she’s really your patient. I did remind them that babies can arrive two weeks early or two weeks late and still be normal.”

Elizabeth nodded approval. “That was the smart thing to say. Of course, a first baby is more likely to be late than early.”

“I know.” But still, she was troubled. What if they didn’t send for help in time?

“Tell you what,” Elizabeth said, seeming to read her thoughts. “I’ll stop over next week and check on Dora. That will make everyone feel better, ain’t so?”

Anna let out a breath of relief. “I’d be so glad. Maybe I’m...”

Before she could finish the thought, they were interrupted by the soft sound of hooves on snow and the jingle of harness bells. Together they rushed to the back porch to find Josh and Benjamin grinning at them from the high seat of the sleigh. Ben held the lines, while Josh jiggled a strap of tiny bells.

“So that’s what you two boys have been up to all afternoon.” Elizabeth smiled fondly at her sons. “I should have known.”

“Get your coats on, you two. We’re going to take you for a ride.” Josh jumped down to hustle them along. “Hurry up. You first, Mamm.”

“Ach, I’m too old for such foolishness,” Elizabeth protested, but halfheartedly.

“Never,” Anna exclaimed, rushing to retrieve their coats and mittens.

Since the sleigh was a two-seater, Josh took his mother up beside him to the accompaniment of a string of warnings from his daad, who came out of the barn to join the fun. They went sliding off down the snow-covered lane, the snow muffling the sound of the horse’s hooves.

“Don’t worry, Daad.” Ben stamped snow from his feet. “He’ll be careful with Mamm.”

“When you boys start playing around with the sleigh, you forget all about being careful,” Asa said, but he was smiling as he watched. “Mind you don’t go speeding when you take Anna.”

It hadn’t occurred to Anna that logically Ben would take her for a ride since Josh had done the first trip. She was still trying to find a way to get out of it when the sleigh came sweeping back, Elizabeth laughing like a girl. Before Anna knew what was happening, she’d been bundled up onto the seat beside Ben.

He shot her a mischievous grin. “We’ll show them how it’s done, ain’t so?”

“You heard your daad,” she began, then gave it up as Ben guided the sleigh in a broad circle and she had to grasp the side rail to keep from sliding right off the seat.

Ben sent the gelding off toward the woods at a brisk pace, and she held tightly.

“We’re not racing, are we?” She tried to sound stern, but the question came out on a giggle. She couldn’t help it—it was so exhilarating to fly noiselessly over the snow, the breeze sending flakes to dust her coat and melt against her skin.

“Fun, ain’t so?” Ben smiled at her again, and her heart seemed to flip in her chest.

“You might say you did this for Joshua’s sake, but we all know better. You wanted to play in the snow as much as he did.”

“You’re just the same. Remember how excited you got yesterday at the first flakes?” His voice was low and teasing, and Anna had to struggle not to meet his eyes.

“I confess. We’re all kids about something, ain’t so?”

Ben nodded, but for some reason the words seemed to set up a more serious line of thought for him. They’d nearly reached the woods, where the farm lane ended, and he drew the buggy to a stop.

With the snow muffling every sound, Anna felt as if they were alone in the world. She had to say something.

“The...the hemlocks are beautiful in the snow. Look how it’s bending the branches down. It’s as if they’re...”

“Anna.” His voice was low, but it halted her foolish chatter in an instant. “There’s something I must say to you. I’ve owed you an apology for three years, and I haven’t been able to find the words to tell you how sorry I am.”

“Don’t, Ben. Don’t.” She put out her hand to stop him and then realized it was much safer not to touch him. But she saw, quite suddenly, what she must say to ease the tension between them.

“It worked out for the best, ain’t so? I don’t mean you going away, but the fact that we didn’t get together.” Anna took a breath of cold air and forced herself to go on. “Moonlight and kisses don’t make a solid basis for marriage. We’re such completely different people now.”

Her throat was getting so tight that she didn’t think she could say anything more, but maybe that was enough. She risked a glance at Ben’s face, but his somber expression didn’t tell her anything.

Finally he nodded. “If you feel you can forgive me, that’s all that counts. I hope we can be friends again.”

Anna forced herself to smile. “Friends.” That was all she could manage, but it seemed to be enough.

Ben clucked to the horse and they turned back toward the farmhouse.

* * *

Ben did his best not to fidget as the three-hour Sunday morning service drew near the end. He’d been trying to efface himself, in the hope he could fade into the mass of black-coated men. What a wimp he’d turned into while he was away—after all, he’d grown up sitting on the backless benches for worship, and he didn’t even remember thinking it was that hard.

Hard was definitely the word for this bench. He shifted his weight slightly and earned a frown from his eldest brother, Daniel. Dan had always felt responsible for the younger ones, and that didn’t seem to have changed. His greeting had been restrained, and he’d glanced at Daad as if taking his cue from him. Joseph, so close in age to Daniel that they might as well have been twins, had followed his lead, but as they’d lined up to enter the basement when worship was being held, Joe had given him a quick smile and a wink that warmed his heart.

You didn’t expect this to be easy, he reminded himself. It seemed he was saying that a lot lately.

The final prayer, the final hymn, and the long service was over. Bishop John King, passing close as he moved through the congregation, inclined his head gravely. Ben nodded back, guessing what the bishop was thinking—that if Ben intended to stay, he’d have to make his confession before the church. It was an intimidating thought, but the forgiveness granted to the sinner afterward was sincere and complete. The wrong was wiped out as if it had never been.

Daad put a hand on his shoulder. “Not until you’re ready,” he said softly. “Meantime, help the boys set up the tables for lunch, ja?”

Ben’s throat tightened. Daad, for all his strictness with his boys, had always seemed to understand. If he ever had a family, would he have that gift? If.

“Here, Ben, give us a hand.” Joe and Dan were making short work of converting the benches to the tables that would seat them for the after-church meal. “Or have you forgot how?”

Ben grinned at the familiar joshing and grabbed the end of the table Josh was struggling with. “Josh and I will get more done than you two. Come on, Josh.” Together they raised the wooden planks easily, fitting them into the brackets that turned them into tables. Typical Amish ingenuity, he thought. The benches and tables had to be hauled from one home to the next for services, so why not make the best use of them?

Already some of the women were carrying bowls and platters down the stairs from the Fisher family’s kitchen. Each family took a turn to host worship, but it only made sense to do winter worship at a home that had a warm, dry basement instead of a barn.

They were finishing the last table when Ben spotted Anna coming down, her arms around a huge coffee urn. Anna had made it easy for him to forgive himself for the hurt he’d offered her. At least he didn’t have to worry about that. So why didn’t her rational acceptance make him feel more content?

“Let me take that.” He discovered he’d moved to help Anna before he’d consciously decided on it. He grabbed the urn. “It’s heavy.”

For an instant she resisted, but then she let go and smiled. “Over here on the end of the table,” she said, gesturing to the long table that was already becoming covered with the fixings of the after-church lunch.

He set it down in the spot she indicated. “I see...” Ben lost his train of thought when he heard his mother’s name, coming from a small knot of women a few yards away.

“...saying that it’s not fair for Elizabeth Miller to just stop doing her home visits. She’s our midwife, and she shouldn’t be pushing us off on someone second-best, like Anna Zook.”

Ben recognized Etta Beachy’s strident voice even though her back was to them. Obviously some things didn’t change. Etta was known as the biggest blabbermaul in the church district.

He didn’t realize he’d taken a step toward the woman until he felt Anna’s hand on his arm. She shook her head.

“Don’t say anything,” she murmured. “Your mamm wouldn’t like it, and I don’t need defending.” Her smile flickered. “Your mamm would say that the irritating people in the church are sent to teach the rest of us patience.”

Ben gave a reluctant nod. Anna was right, and that sounded exactly like his mother. But still, he didn’t like to hear the woman talking that way about Mamm. And what made her so sure that Anna was second-best?

It seemed he’d lost some of his patience while he was living Englisch. He put his hand over hers and squeezed it lightly. “If so, Etta fills the role to perfection, ain’t so?”

Anna tried to suppress a giggle and didn’t quite succeed. Her eyes danced even as she shook her head at him.

How could he have ever thought her plain? When her face lit with laughter, she had an elusive beauty that intrigued him.

Whoa, don’t go there. He eased his hand away from hers. “Denke. For keeping me out of trouble.”

She glanced away, and a slight flush rose in her cheeks.

“And imagine that Ben Miller, sitting in worship like he belonged there.” Etta apparently wasn’t finished with his family yet. “He ought to be in the penitent seat. Why hasn’t he confessed?”

Interestingly, two of the women had drifted away, maybe not wanting to be associated with Etta’s views. The one who was left tried in vain to shush her with an agonized glance in their direction.

To Ben’s surprise, he felt Anna stiffen at his side. Was she really angrier at the slight to him than at the reflection on herself? Of course, knowing Anna, he suspected she wouldn’t admit to being angry at all. But she couldn’t deny the way her eyes snapped or the flush on her cheekbones.

Oddly enough, that amused him. “Relax,” he whispered. “I’ll show you how to deal with the Ettas of the world.”

Not looking back, he strode over to Etta and her embarrassed companion, hearing a small gasp from behind him.

“Etta Beachy. It’s nice to see you after all this time.” He produced a smile. “And this must be Sally Fisher, ain’t so?”

Sally nodded, her color high. “Gut to see you home again, Benjamin. Wilkom back.”

Etta, obviously not sure what he might have overheard, pressed her lips together into a thin line. For a moment he thought she wouldn’t say anything, but then she gave a short nod. “Your mamm must be pleased to see you after all this time.”

“Three years,” he said, determined not to let her ruffle him. “I see you haven’t changed a bit.” Still as big a blabbermaul as ever, he thought.

Something that might have been a chuckle escaped Sally. He nodded to each of them before heading for the table where Daad and his brothers were waiting. But on the way he couldn’t resist a glance back at Anna.

She shook her head at him, but her eyes twinkled. Maybe he’d taken the sting out of Etta’s comments for her.

Another thought struck him as he took his place at the table and he thought again of her reaction to the criticism of him. Perhaps Anna wasn’t quite as indifferent to him as she wanted him to believe.

Chapter Five

The snow was gone from the roads by the time Elizabeth and Anna set out for the Beachy home on Monday afternoon. A brisk wind ripped snow from the trees and sent it swirling in front of the buggy horse who plodded patiently on. Anna was glad of the blanket over their knees, and she tucked it in more snugly.

“Are you sure you want me to be with you on this visit?” she asked, hoping she wasn’t repeating herself. “I mean, Etta and Dora might feel freer to talk if I’m not there.”

“I’ve never noticed anything keeping Etta from talking,” Elizabeth said. She took her gaze from the road long enough to study Anna’s face. “Are you worried that I won’t agree with you?”

“Not worried, exactly.” But Etta’s comment referring to her as second-best seemed lodged in her mind, despite Ben’s efforts. “I’ll be glad to have your opinion. Maybe I’m wrong, and if so...”

Elizabeth startled her by reaching over to grasp her hand. “None of that, now. Whether we are right or wrong in a particular situation, we must always take the course that’s safest for the mammi and the boppli.”

“Even if it makes me look foolish?”

“Even so.” Elizabeth smiled. “And not just you. I mind one time when I was so sure I’d heard a second heartbeat. I told the parents, and they rushed around borrowing an extra cradle and getting more blankets and diapers.”

“And?” She suspected how this story was going to play out by the way Elizabeth’s eyes twinkled.

“Nobody was more surprised than me when I delivered one big, healthy boy. I never have figured out what it was I heard that day.” She chuckled. “I was a long time living that down, believe me.”

Anna squeezed her hand before letting go. “You’re just trying to make me feel better.”

“Is it working?” Elizabeth asked innocently.

They were both still laughing when they drove up the lane to the farmhouse.

Etta must have been watching for them. One of the boys ran out to take the horse and offer a hand to help Elizabeth down. Anna jumped down herself, her sturdy shoes landing on the hard-packed snow of the lane. She picked up the medical bag and followed Elizabeth to the back door.

“Komm in, komm in.” Etta was there to greet them. She gave Anna a sidelong glance and addressed Elizabeth. “We didn’t know you were both coming.”

Elizabeth’s smile didn’t falter. “I think it best if both of us see every patient a few times. We’re partners, after all. If one of us should be busy with another mammi when someone goes into labor, we should both be familiar with the case, ain’t so?”

Etta didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t argue, to Anna’s relief. Was she feeling a bit guilty after being caught gossiping? Or wondering if Elizabeth had heard about her criticism of Ben? It was certain sure Elizabeth hadn’t heard it from either her or Ben, but very often she seemed to know what was happening without being told.

The two of them shed their outer garments, hanging coats and bonnets on the pegs near the back door. Rubbing her palms together, Elizabeth moved to the gas heater in the corner.

“Dora won’t want us touching her with cold hands, ain’t so?” She smiled at Dora, sitting near the heater in a padded rocker. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine, fine.” Dora glanced at her mother-in-law. “Mamm Etta is taking gut care of me.”

Etta beamed. “Ach, we’re all wonderful happy about the baby coming.”

There was a little more chitchat, restrained on Etta’s part and careful on Anna’s, but Elizabeth chattered normally, drawing Dora out on the progress of her pregnancy. It was fascinating to see Dora relax and gain assurance under the influence of her warmth.

That was a place where she needed to improve, Anna decided. Conquering her natural shyness was a day-by-day battle, but she had to keep at it if she was going to be the midwife Elizabeth was.

They all adjourned to the bedroom, where Elizabeth gave Dora a swift, deft exam. Anna, holding the girl’s hand, saw the apprehension in her eyes. “It’s all right,” she said, patting her shoulder. “Everything is fine.”

Catching the words, Elizabeth looked up and smiled. “That’s certain sure. It won’t be long until you’re holding this little boppli in your arms.”

“How soon?” Etta chimed in.

Elizabeth chuckled. “Komm, Etta, you know better than to ask me to pinpoint the birth date. All yours were a bit late, as I recall.”

“For sure. I thought James was never going to get here.” Etta shot a glance at Anna, as if to say, you see?

“’Course Dora isn’t going to take after you. Could be anytime from two weeks early to two weeks late and still be normal.” She patted Dora’s belly. “Just let us know if you start having any contractions or even feeling not quite right. That’s what we’re here for, and one of us will always come.”

Dora nodded, her small face relaxing, and she smoothed her hand over her belly protectively. “James and I pray for a healthy baby, whenever it arrives.”

“Gut. That’s the best way to think.” Elizabeth nodded to Anna. “We’d best be on our way. It’s turning colder, I think.”

Naturally Etta didn’t want to let them go without giving them coffee and cake, and they finally compromised by taking a thermos of coffee with them.

“It’ll be most wilkom on the way home,” Elizabeth said, and pushed Anna gently out the door.

The wind caught them as they left the shelter of the porch, and they scurried to the buggy that James had ready and waiting for them. In another moment they were on the road home.

“Brr.” Elizabeth tucked the blanket more firmly over them. “It’s turning colder. The snow will stay to make it a white Christmas, I think.”

“That sounds lovely to me.” Anna glanced at her. “But tell me the truth. You don’t agree with me about Dora’s baby coming earlier, do you?”

“You heard what I told Dora. Besides, babies have a mind of their own when it comes to that. Still, I can see why you think it.” Elizabeth gave a little nod. “Dora is carrying low and in front, just like her mamm did. Makes her look as if the little one is about to pop out. But hers usually arrived right about their due date.”

Anna nodded, a little relieved though still wondering. “It’s a shame Dora’s family moved out to Ohio when they did. She’d like having her mamm here.”

“I’m sure that’s so. Although Etta was a bit less opinionated today than she usually is. I almost asked her if she were sick.”

Anna was surprised into a laugh. “Ach, I shouldn’t laugh at her, but...” She stopped, thinking it might be best not to bring up the subject of Ben’s encounter with Etta.

“Something happened after worship Sunday, ain’t so?”

“How...” Anna stared at her.

“How do I know?” Elizabeth finished for her. “Because I have eyes in my head.” She sighed, staring straight ahead toward the horse’s ears. “I was keeping watch on Benjamin, of course. Couldn’t help it—I wanted so much for him to feel as if he fits in again.”

Anna’s mind stumbled over how to respond. “I don’t think he would be upset by anything Etta might say. He knows what she’s like.”

“Ach, sometimes I have thoughts that aren’t very Christian about that woman.” Elizabeth clutched the lines so tightly that the mare turned her head to look back, as if asking why.

“I know. But Ben took it in stride. He even had me laughing about it.”

“I’m wonderful glad you were with him. You always seemed to understand Ben so well.” Elizabeth reached out to clasp her hand. “Please, just keep being a friend to him. Encourage him. He needs that right now. Will you?”

Be a friend. Encourage him. And how was she to protect her heart while she was doing that?

But she didn’t really have a choice. She squeezed Elizabeth’s hand. “Of course I will.”

* * *

“Slide in there.” Ben’s brother Daniel gave him a nudge that sent him along the bench at the back of the schoolroom a few nights later. Dan and his wife, holding their two young kids, came in after him, pushing him farther as the rest of the family piled in behind them.

It was the night of the Amish school Christmas program, and even though the family no longer had kinder in the school, they wouldn’t think of missing it. In fact, there was about as good a turnout for the program as there was for Sunday worship.

Dan pressed him a bit more as he made room, and Ben found himself crunched up against Anna. Not that he minded, but he wasn’t sure how Anna would take it. However, she just smiled and slid her coat under the bench to make a bit more space.

“Close quarters,” he murmured. “Looks like the whole church is here.”

“For sure. No one would want to miss seeing the scholars say their Christmas pieces.” She reached out as Dan’s two-year-old, Reuben, wiggled his way over adult knees to reach her. “Want to sit on my lap?”

He nodded, one finger in his mouth, and gave Ben a sidelong look as if not sure what to make of this new onkel of his. When Anna lifted him, he snuggled against her, still staring at Ben.

Anna ruffled the boy’s corn silk hair and whispered to him. “That’s Onkel Ben, remember? Can you give him a smile?”

Reuben pulled the finger out of his mouth just long enough to produce a smile, dimples appearing in his rosy cheeks. Then, apparently stricken by shyness, he buried his face in the front of Anna’s dress.

Ben wasn’t sure whether to find it funny or not. “Guess he’s not ready to accept me just yet.”

“He’s a little shy, like most two-year-olds,” Anna said. “Give him time.” She stroked Reuben’s head lightly. “Besides, it’s already past his bedtime.”

“I won’t push.”

That had to be his motto for everything about his return. Relationships might be easy to break but they could be hard to rebuild. Maybe it would be easier with Reuben and his baby sister, since they weren’t old enough to have been disappointed by him.

“I thought I heard your voice.” The guy ahead of him turned around, a grin splitting his face. “Ben. Wilkom back!” Gus Schmidt, once one of his closest friends, pounded him on the shoulder. “Sure is gut to see you.”

“I’m wonderful glad to be here. You’ve changed.” Ben nodded toward the bristly beard that adorned Gus’s chin.

“I’m an old married man by now. Nancy finally put me out of my misery.”

Nancy Fisher and Gus had been sweethearts already when Ben left, so he wasn’t surprised. But it did startle him to see the boppli Gus held on his knee. The little girl babbled, reaching past him toward Reuben.

“This here’s Mary Grace.” He bounced the tot on his knee and she grinned, showing her few teeth.

Ben shook his head. “Imagine you, responsible enough to be a daadi. I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Beat you to it, anyway.” Gus looked as if he couldn’t stop smiling.

The familiar give and take between buddies was a balm to his heart. Here was one person, at least, who hadn’t changed in his regard.

“If Nancy knew half the things you got up to, she’d never trust you with a boppli. Where is Nancy, anyway?”

“She’s been helping out with the props for the program. She’d want to talk to you later, but mind you don’t say anything about the mischief you led me into. I had enough sense not to...”

Gus let that trail off, and the tips of his ears reddened. “I mean...”

“It’s okay.” Ben punched his arm lightly. If he was going to stay, he’d have to get used to folks stumbling over what to say about his jumping the fence. “I always did have to learn everything the hard way, ain’t so?”

The teacher walked to the front of the audience just then, and everyone got quiet, sparing Gus the embarrassment of answering. “We’ll get together later, ain’t so?” he murmured, and turned to face front.

Ben settled back onto the bench and realized that Anna was watching his face, maybe measuring how much he was affected by that conversation. He gave her a reassuring smile and watched her flush a little in return.

Teacher Lydia proved to be Nancy’s younger sister. She had more poise than he’d have expected as she welcomed everyone and introduced the program. As usual, the evening began with the youngest scholars, probably because they were too excited to wait.

He might have expected to be bored by the program, given some of the entertainment he’d seen in the outside world. In fact, he was completely rapt. The scholars’ innocent faces, intent expressions and sometimes wobbly voices were enchanting. He glanced at Anna. She was watching just as closely, a reminiscent smile curving her lips.

Of course it would be familiar to her. Even though she hadn’t grown up in Lost Creek, her school would have had a program that was probably very like this one. No doubt she’d stood up in front of the audience, quaking a bit, to say her lines.

As if Anna felt his gaze, she met his eyes.

“Do you miss it?” he whispered under cover of the song the younger kinder were singing. “Being with your own folks at Christmastime?”

She shook her head. “I was there visiting at Thanksgiving. But Lost Creek is home now. And I get out of the rumspringa gang Christmas parties.”

That comment startled him. Why wouldn’t she want to get together with the girls she’d gone through rumspringa with? Those were usually the people who became your friends for life.

Then he really looked at her, seeing what he hadn’t before. She cradled the sleeping Reuben against her heart, and when she looked down at him, her face was suffused with tenderness. Of course. All those girls would have families by now, except for Anna. And she wanted a family—that shone so clearly in her face.

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