did you guys hear Ada’s in the hospital?” Ella volunteered. “She might even have a brain injury.”
I started to speak, but Will beat me to it.
“Not to worry. Her tests came out all right. No brain injury, only a small cut. Four stitches to the head, but Alexander says they don’t even show because they are hidden by her kapp.”
Even as I was relieved to hear such good news, I felt a twinge of jealousy that Will had found out all of this before I did. She was, after all, my sister.
When we reached the farm, Hannah’s husband, Jonas, met us at the door of their house, which I hadn’t been in before. Hannah was in the back bedroom, and it was cold as ice. In an adjacent room, little Rachael was asleep in a crib, covered with blankets.
I instructed Ezra to build up the fire and told Ella to close all the doors in the house except for the back bedroom. If it didn’t heat up soon, I would move Hannah into the kitchen. She was warm from labor and had no idea how cold it actually was.
She was right, the baby had flipped, but it was still a difficult labor with intense back pain. Hannah was quiet and withdrawn, pulling away from her husband. Finally I got on the bed beside her. “Hannah, are you afraid?” I whispered.
She nodded.
“May I pray for you?”
She nodded again.
I put my arm around her shoulder and prayed silently, the way I’d seen Marta pray all those weeks ago, asking God to take away Hannah’s fear and give her the strength to have the baby. I whispered, “Amen” when I was done.
A couple of minutes later Hannah closed her eyes and growled as a contraction overtook her. After a few more contractions, I checked her. She was ready to push. An hour later, at 5:17, a little girl slipped into the world, perfect in every way. Baby number 263; number eight in Lancaster County. Hannah fell into her husband’s arms and sobbed as I suctioned the baby. I then wrapped her in the warm blankets Ella had brought in and tucked the baby in the bed beside Hannah, covering them both with more warm blankets. A few minutes later Rachael called out from her room in Pennsylvania Dutch. Maybe she’d heard us, or maybe it was her usual waking time. Jonas went and got her. He returned with the girl and she fell onto the bed beside her mother, hugging her and then kissing her little sister’s head.
In all the other deliveries I’d done over the years, I searched the faces of the babies…the mothers…the fathers…the grandmothers. This was the first time I searched the face of the older sister. I found myself looking at her over and over, staring when I could. Her face was lit up and full of joy. She was elated. I’d never seen such happiness.
“What do you think?” I knelt beside the bed, level with her.
“She is wunderbar,” Rachael said. “I love her already.”
I stood and slipped away, not wanting to explain my tears, my loss, not even to myself. After a while Rachael climbed off the bed and went down the hall. I heard her laughter, mingled in with Ella’s and Ezra’s. I heard Will’s voice and then the door close. Ella returned with Rachael, holding the little girl’s hand, asking Hannah what she wanted to eat and then telling me that Will and Ezra had gone after the car. The snow was already melting.
By eight o’clock, Ella and Rachael were both asleep on the living room couch and the house was warm. Hannah’s mom had arrived and taken charge of the kitchen. Nancy hugged me when I entered, thanking me for taking such good care of Hannah, and inviting me to have a cup of tea and breakfast.
“I hear you’re Marta’s niece.”
I nodded.
“Which makes your mother Giselle?”
“Yes,” I said, wanting to add, at least I think so, but I didn’t. “Did you know Giselle?”
“Oh, yes,” Nancy said. “We were all very close. The Lantz sisters used to visit us a lot. My mother and Frannie were good friends. They were both young widows. It’s a shame how everything turned out. I still see Klara and Marta, but it’s not the same.”
I wrapped my hands around my mug of tea, hoping she’d continue.
“Klara and Giselle were as close as any two sisters could be, and both were so protective of Marta.” Nancy went on to say that