The Amish Midwife - By Mindy Starns Clark Page 0,77

see any buggies and assumed the Amish had hired drivers to bring them into town. I found a parking place a couple of blocks away and hurried to the courthouse. The crowd must have gone inside because the sidewalk was clear. I stepped through the double doors and passed through the security checkpoint, and then I ascended the stairs to the courtroom. The wooden benches on both sides were filled with Marta’s supporters.

“Lexie!” David sat in the middle of the room and motioned to me. I joined him, asking about Esther, Caroline, and Simon, a little surprised that he would leave them all alone so soon. He assured me that Esther had insisted he come to support Marta.

Speaking of support, I began scanning the crowd, wondering if Klara would show up for her little sister, but none of the faces under the caps belonged to her. One, in the back row, belonged to Alice, though. She nodded at me and smiled. Will Gundy wasn’t in the room.

A few minutes later Marta and Connie Stanton entered and sat on the front right side of the room. Moments later a man, whom I assumed was the DA, entered. And then we all rose as the bailiff announced the judge, an old man with a full head of snow-white hair that contrasted dramatically with his black robe.

I had told Marta I would take notes, but I was so mesmerized by the proceedings that I hardly wrote anything down on the pad of paper I’d brought. The DA read the charges of two counts of involuntary manslaughter and one count of practicing without a license. He said that Marta Bayer had played God that night with the life of Lydia Gundy and her unborn son, and that if Marta had acted responsibly both would be alive today. Then the judge asked for the plea and Marta responded, clearly, “Not guilty.” The judge addressed her, saying that the charges were serious and reminding her that both a mother and baby were dead under her watch. “Three children are without a mother and little brother, and a husband is without his wife and son,” he said. “This is a lifelong sentence for them.”

Marta’s head, from the back, did not budge. Nor did her shoulders. Tears filled my eyes. Would two more children—teenagers with no father—end up without their mother too?

The judge said that a pretrial hearing would be scheduled for two weeks. “In the meantime, you will be held in the Lancaster County jail,” he said to Marta. “Bail is posted at five hundred thousand dollars.” Even though I hardly watched TV, I’d seen enough crime shows to know that meant Marta would have to come up with fifty thousand to get out. I also knew she didn’t have that kind of money. I looked around the room. Chances were that no one in the courtroom did, either. I was sure there were plenty of Amish and Mennonites who were land rich, but they probably didn’t have fifty thousand dollars in cash available to cough up at a moment’s notice. A murmur rose through the courtroom, and the judge hit his gavel on the desk.

After the judge dismissed the court, Marta turned around, searching the crowd. I stepped out into the aisle and she motioned to me with just a nod of her head. Connie Stanton stood beside her, gathering her files and papers. I stepped around people filling the aisle and made my way against the stream to the divider.

“Tell Ella and Zed what happened.” Marta’s voice was calm.

“I will.”

“I don’t know when I’ll be home…” She blinked quickly. “I never thought this would happen, but just in case I had made arrangements a few days ago for the children to go to Esther and David’s. Though now that the baby’s come…”

“No, they can’t be there. I’ll stay. The kids can remain at home, and I’ll stay with them.”

“It’s too much to ask of you—”

“I can keep up with your appointments and deliveries as well.”

“What about Philadelphia?”

I shrugged. “I’ll tell the agency I’ve been delayed.”

“Are you sure?”

“It’s a family emergency,” I added, stressing the word “family” and wanting her to hear me.

“Thank you,” she whispered, and from the look in her eyes, I knew she had.

The bailiff came toward her, and then it was time for her to go.

I followed the crowd to the back of the room, turning before I exited. The bailiff led Marta past the judge’s bench to a door, where he