“We’ll stop by the store before we head back to Amos’s.” Kate intercepted the note and tucked it into her bag. “Your face is already starting to have more color.”

  Her words disappeared into the quiet hum of the central air-conditioning. Maisy’s bones melted into the cocoon of cool sheets. The soft pillow smelled like clothes that had been hung on an outdoor clothesline. Her eyelids refused to stay open.

  “Maisy. Maisy, honey, time to wake up.”

  Maisy started and forced her eyes open. Smiling, Kate loomed over her. Maisy sat up. Where were they? The birthing center. She had slept. Hard and long. She rubbed her eyes. For the first time in weeks they didn’t burn. “I can’t believe I slept.”

  “You needed it.”

  Maisy threw off the sheets. A small bandage covered the spot where the IV needle had been. “You should’ve woken me. I need to get back to the house.”

  Then it struck her. For the first time in months, no nausea. She sank back on the bed. “I feel . . . better.” She laughed. “Much better.”

  “Wunderbarr.” Kate helped Maisy stand. “It won’t last forever, but it will give you time to get some protein in your body and start to build up your strength again.”

  At the front desk, a different woman shuffled charts with a phone tucked between her chin and her shoulder. “Yes, yes. That’s fine. Come on in. Betsy went home to get some sleep, but Leeann is here. We’ve got you covered.”

  She hung up the phone. Her gaze bounced from Kate to Maisy. “I’m Candy, the administrative assistant. You must be Maisy Glick. Betsy wants to see you again in one week.”

  No, no. “That’s okay. I’m fine now.”

  Kate’s hand squeezed Maisy’s. “You lost five pounds in the last month. You can’t keep doing that. It’s not gut for your bopli. Or for you. Let them help me take care of you.”

  The sound of sobbing caught Maisy before she could reply. A Plain man plodded through the lobby with his arm around a tearful woman. Her wrinkled prayer covering was askew over pale-blonde hair that had come loose from its bun. His face lined with pain, the man rubbed the woman’s back.

  “Let’s go home, Fraa. You’ll feel better there.”

  “I’m fine.” The woman wiped her face with a sodden handkerchief. “I’ll be fine.”

  Her words strangled on a sob. The sound reverberated from Maisy’s fingers to her toes. It made her bones ache. Such heartache. A person couldn’t let it pass by without acknowledging it.

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered even though she had no idea what had happened to the couple. “So sorry.”

  “Gott’s will be done.” The man’s eyes reddened. His voice broke. “He can use all things for our gut.”

  Both true according to Scripture, but that didn’t make some trials easier to bear.

  Kate stepped into their path. She held open her arms. The woman, who was much taller, bent down and walked into them. They huddled in a hug in the middle of the waiting room. “I’m so sorry, Vicky. It must be heartbreaking.”

  “I know there’s a reason for all this, but I can’t for the life of me imagine what it is.” Vicky pulled away from Kate. She swiped at her face. Kate handed her a fresh tissue from the box on the counter. “In four years no bopli. Then the adoption fell through. How could she change her mind like that at the very last moment after all those months of saying yes? Now yes is no. And now I thought . . .” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I thought I was expecting, but I’m not. Wishful thinking. Betsy says it was probably stress.”

  “Gott’s timing is His timing.” Vicky’s husband studied his boots. His Adam’s apple bobbed. “We aren’t to question it.”

  “Gott has a plan for us.” Kate shook her head. She had tears in her eyes. “Sometimes it’s hard for us to wait for it to unfold.”

  “I’ve tried so hard to be patient.” Vicky hiccupped a sob. “If we’re not meant to have our own kinner, so be it. Gott’s will be done. But I thought surely we’d be allowed to care for a bopli whose mudder cannot. What would be wrong with that?”

  “Nothing, nothing at all,” Kate soothed. “As Isaac says, Gott’s will and Gott’s timing.”

  “Let’s get you home.” Isaac’s arm encircled Vicky’s waist again. “Tomorrow’s another day.”

  Then they were out the door and gone.

  Candy’s happy-go-lucky grin had disappeared. “I’ve been praying for them like crazy. I’ve got calluses on my knees.”

  Kate grabbed a fresh tissue for herself. “It’s the most important thing we can all do. For some of us, it’s the only thing.”

  “I’m sorry I got distracted.” Candy tapped on the monthly calendar that lay on the desk in front of her “So come see us at ten o’clock next Tuesday, Miss Maisy?”

  “Okay.” Maybe.

  “I see that you don’t have insurance. That’s fine. We’ll set up a payment plan.” Candy laid yet another stack of papers in front of Maisy. “This is what you owe for today. Just fill out the form and put on there how much you want to pay and how often. We’ve had folks pay weekly, monthly, lump sum, and bigger installments, depending on their resources and whether they plan to deliver with us.”

  The amount owed was mind-boggling. For one day. What would a delivery cost?

  Her answer was on the next page. She couldn’t contain her gasp.

  “Don’t worry, really. However long you need to make payments is fine. There’s no pressure tactics or anything like that.”

  Nate’s money would be a down payment at best if she had to deliver at the clinic. She would not let that happen. She counted out enough cash to pay for today’s services. The stack of bills shrank.

  Back in the buggy she tucked the bag close and closed her eyes for a few seconds. Bryan and Amos were right. She needed to get a job. The Gmay couldn’t be expected to pay her bills. It was tantamount to approving of her actions—even if they dutifully forgave her.

  “Try not to worry about the money.”

  So Kate was also a mind reader.

  “I know it’s wrong to worry, but I have to pay for these vitamins and get material so I can sew bigger dresses. I can’t deliver at the clinic.”

  “You still have six months to go before this bopli comes along.” Kate shook the reins and clucked her tongue. Her horse neighed and took off. “Let’s not borrow trouble.”

  “What kind of trouble do Vicky and Isaac have, if I may ask?”

  “Everyone in the district knows so there’s no reason I can’t share their troubles with you.” Kate guided the buggy onto Red Rock Road. “Vicky had a miscarriage in the first year after they married. She’s never been in a family way since.”

  “Do the doctors know why?”

  “That’s between them and the doctors.” Kate pulled into the grocery store parking lot and guided her horse into a parking spot set aside for buggies. “They decided to try adoption. The agency connected them with a young Englisch girl who wanted to give up her bopli. Last month they went to Hutchinson to fetch the bopli, a little bu, at the hospital. Only the mudder changed her mind after his birth.”

  “That’s why they’re so brokenhearted?”

  “They spent a lot of time with the mudder. Vicky made clothes and crib quilts. Isaac built a cradle with his own hands. They made all the plans any parents who are about to have a bopli would make. They had all those dreams. Now they have nowhere to put them. They’re gut people. They gave the cradle to the mudder and the bopli things to one of Vicky’s friends who’s due this month.”

  Almost all Plain women wanted babies—lots of them. Few were like Kate, happy to be single and engrossed in a job like midwifery or being a teacher. Maisy had wanted as many as God would give her—until this happened. Now it seemed unlikely God would find her deserving of her dream. “No wonder she’s so distraught. Both of them.”

  “Our bishop has met with them several times. He’s trying to help them through this painful season. We all are. But it’s as if they had a baby who died. It’s that kind of grief. It takes time to overcome it.”

  No wonder Vicky’s dress hung on her. No wonder Isaac’s shoulders were hunched.

  Kate climbed down from the buggy. “We better get a move on. Ruth will start to worry.”

  Maisy didn’t move. Her heart thrummed with Vicky and Isaac’s hurt. It made no sense. Life didn’t make sense. She rubbed the spot under her breastbone where her heart lay. In the heady rush of freedom granted to her by her rumspringa, she’d made all the wrong choices. Done all the wrong things. Now she bore the burden of responsibility for her actions. She carried a baby inside her, now the size of an apple or an avocado, according to her pamphlet. He—or she—would double in size in the next few weeks. His legs were growing, his heart pumping, his hair starting to grow, fingernails and toenails too. He would become more and more a baby.

  While Isaac and Vicky had none.

  “Are you coming?” Her expression quizzical, Kate stared at Maisy from the sidewalk. “Are you feeling bad again?”

  “Not the way you mean. It’s so unfair. I’m eighteen, not married, with no prospects, and I’m expecting. Vicky wants so badly to have a bopli, and she can’t. It’s sad.”

  “Whoever said life was fair? Scripture says we will have trouble in this world, but to take heart. Jesus has overcome the world.”

  Did that Scripture give Vicky and Isaac comfort? Did they wonder how God could use this season of pain, loss, and sadness for their good?

  Two steps in their shoes and anyone in her right mind would wonder.

  Chapter 13

  Maisy didn’t need another visit to the clinic. Really, she didn’t. She tossed back her vitamins and gulped a big swig of 7UP. She tried on her best air of well-being coupled with contentment. The sun shone through the open windows. A warm September breeze floated through Ruth’s kitchen. Sunny stretched out on one of the windowsills, sleeping. The kitchen smelled of coffee, sausage, fried eggs, and hashbrowns, none of which bothered her stomach this morning. Progress, indeed.

  Kate didn’t appear convinced. She sashayed through the kitchen to the rack next to the back door where she selected a canvas bag—Maisy’s bag. “Let’s go. It’s been a week. Your appointment’s at ten o’clock. We don’t want to be late.”

  “I feel better. I’m getting ready to make pies to sell at the produce stand. Ruth needs help with the laundry. We’re canning tomatoes this afternoon.”

  “We need to see how much better.” Kate held out the bag. “We’ll only be gone a couple of hours.”

  Maisy planted her feet and stuck her hands on her hips. “I haven’t thrown up once today.”

  “It’s only nine o’clock. What about yesterday?”

  Maisy took the bag. “Okay. Twice.”

  Her expression triumphant, Kate went to the arched doorway that led to the laundry room. “Ruth, do you need anything from town?” She lifted her voice to be heard over the chug-a-chug-chug of the wringer washing machine. “We’re headed out.”

  Ruth came to the door with Nicholas on one hip. Bonnie clutched a doll in one arm and toddled after her. She immediately trotted over to Kate for a hug. “Katie, Katie, Katie.”

  “You have my name down, don’t you, little one?” Kate picked her up and planted a kiss on her cheek. “Are you helping your mudder do laundry?”

  “More like she’s trying to climb in and take a bath. She loves to play in the water.” Ruth’s pink face shone with perspiration. Her hands were wet and soapy. “We need more pectin for making the peach and plum jelly if you get a chance. A twenty-pound bag of sugar, too, if you don’t mind. I’ll pay you when you come back.”

  “Absolutely.” Kate pulled a list from her purse and added the requests. “How are you feeling?”

  “Better.” Ruth already had that glow expecting moms often had. Envy tried to slip in the side door, but Maisy kicked it out. Ruth had her hands full. She didn’t need to feel crummy too. “I weighed this morning. I already gained two pounds. At this rate I’ll be huge.”

  “You gained thirty-five pounds with both your boplin.” Kate shook her head. “Nothing wrong with that as long as your blood pressure cooperates. I’ll check it when we get back.”

  “Tell Betsy and Leeann I said hi.” Ruth shifted Nicholas to her other hip. The little boy’s eyelids drooped. Nap time would make chores easier. “Tell them no offense, but I’m hoping not to see them anytime soon.”

  That would be a blessing. Maisy had to fight off envy again. It kept trying to whisper in her ear No fair, no fair. This was all her fault—hers and Nate’s. Ruth and Amos had done everything according to the rules. “We better get going. The sooner we go, the sooner I’m back here making pies.”

  “While you’re at the grocery store picking up the pectin, you should apply for the cashier job that’s open.”

  The first wave of nausea of the day rolled through Maisy. She’d applied for a maid job at a bed-and-breakfast and for a receptionist job at a fencing company, both in Haven. So far neither had left a message for her to come in for an interview. The receptionist job didn’t surprise her. She had no experience answering a phone. But the B and B was another story. She knew how to clean, make beds, and cook breakfast. “How did you know they have an opening?”

  “Word gets around. My friend Diana told me about it at church.”

  Another reason to get moving and get it over with. It seemed unlikely the owners would hire a woman with no experience running a cash register. How did a person get experience if no one would hire her? At least it would be an opportunity to buy a new composition notebook. Maybe they would have paperbacks for sale there. She’d been itching to start a new list of words, but she’d had no time to go to the Haven library for books. Westerns were okay as long as they weren’t romances. Maybe a good mystery.

  Reading books would give her something else to think about. An escape.

  An hour later Maisy fought nausea while Betsy thanked Kate for the bag of chocolate-chip-walnut cookies she’d brought for the whole staff.

  “Your color is better.” Betsy set the cookies on the counter and led Maisy down the hallway. “Get your weight and take care of the strip. I’ll meet you in the exam room.”

  She’d gained eight ounces. “It’s only been a week.”

  Maisy settled into a chair in the exam room.

  Her iPad in hand, Betsy took a seat on a stool. She wheeled closer. “It’s certainly better than losing weight.” Her smile lit up her face. Fine wrinkles decorated her eyes and mouth, like accessories. “Your blood pressure is better too. Maybe you’re not quite as nervous today.”

  Maybe. Maisy rose. “So I can go home and Kate can take care of me?”

  “How do you feel?”

  “Better.”

  “I don’t mean physically. When you were here last week, you seemed almost distraught.”

  She sat back down. “I don’t like being so . . . exposed.”

  “Some of our other Plain ladies feel the same way. You’re not alone. It’ll get easier, I promise.”

  Maisy’s situation was different. Completely different.

  “You can talk to me, Maisy. I’ve delivered many babies for single moms. You’ll get no judgment from me. I’m here to listen and help so this delivery is as natural and wonderful as possible.”

  A darkness threatened the corners of Maisy’s mind. Her throat tightened. Her heartbeat quaked in her ears. Wonderful? And then what? “I don’t think I can do it.”

  “Many first-time moms feel that way. Your body knows what to do.”

  “I’m not talking about the delivery.”

  Compassion filled Betsy’s face unadorned by makeup. Completely natural. In some ways the Mennonites weren’t so different from Amish folks. But then Betsy had a degree in nursing. She’d spent years as a missionary and midwife in El Salvador. She drove a car to the clinic and used a computer. “You have the ability to take care of yourself and a baby, even more than English girls your age, because of all the vocational training you get in your community. I imagine you have several younger brothers and sisters you’ve taken care of since they were babies. The experience serves as on-the-job training for when you have your own.”

  All true. Maisy drew a long breath and let it out. The quaking didn’t ease. Pounding in her ears like beating drums made it hard to hear. “That’s also how I know I’m not ready. I know what’s involved. Also the fact that I got involved with an English man tells me I’m not making wise, grown-up decisions.”

  “The fact that you recognize that tells me you’ve learned a lot from what you’ve been through.”

  “I have. I don’t think I’m ready to be a parent yet. I’m not mature enough.” Maisy sought words that could express the depth of her misgivings and found none. The sound of Vicky’s sobs filled her ears. Could she not take a bad situation and turn it into something good—for her baby and for the Kings? “I’ve been thinking of another possibility. What about adoption?”

  Betsy cocked her head. Eyes squinted, forehead wrinkled, she nodded slowly. “That’s another option, but it’s a difficult one. Giving up your baby is a hard road, one that requires a steadfast willingness to endure the pain of that separation.”

  “But it’s also a chance to give a woman who’s desperate to be a mother that gift, isn’t it?” Maisy smoothed her wrinkled dress over her belly. Sometimes at night when she relaxed in bed, a strange, small flutter would surprise her. Not a kick, not yet, but a little wave to say, “Hey, I’m here.” It would be hard, very hard. “I’m just thinking about it right now. This baby’s father isn’t Plain. If I decided to give him up, I would want the couple to be Plain.”

  “Of course. We have Plain couples who are struggling with infertility just like Englisch couples.”