Leah's Choice

Leah hugged Joey and stood him on his feet, wiping under his eyes with her thumbs. “He said that he got separated from his brother and sister and a wolf chased him.”

“A wolf?”

She shrugged, but her eyes twinkled. “He said he ran to the shelter to get away from the wolf and found the goat here.”

Joey nodded and started talking again in Pennsylvania Dutch.

“English,” Leah reminded him.

“The baby. I didn’t want the wolf to get it,” the boy said. “Then it was night and…and…” A rattle of Dutch followed.

“He was afraid of the storm,” Leah finished. “And he couldn’t leave the goats. The doe is having trouble.”

Daniel nodded. “I think there’s a second kid.”

“Probably,” she agreed.

Daniel picked up her flashlight and shone the beam around the shed, seeing that the roof slanted toward the back. Bales of sweet-smelling hay were stacked against the far wall, making the shelter feel snug and almost warm.

“So he stayed here all this time with the goats?” Daniel asked.

“He was afraid the wolves would kill them. It was probably the wild dogs I was telling you about.” She rubbed the boy’s arm, said something in Pennsylvania Dutch again, then continued speaking to Daniel in English. “A goat can usually drive off a single dog, but not a pack. Joey was smart to stay here where it was safe.”

The mother goat began to paw the floor and bleat. Leah walked over to the goat and ran her hands over its belly. “I think the twin kid might be stuck,” she said. “The first one is already dry. This one should have been born by now.” She bit down on her lower lip. “I wish my sister, Miriam, was here. She’d know what to do.” She looked up at Daniel. “She’s really good with animals.”

“Can you hold her?” Daniel asked, putting the flashlight back on the bale of hay. He dug into the deep pockets of his jacket and pulled out a pair of latex gloves he always carried. “If you can hold her still, I can examine her.”

Joey said something in Pennsylvania Dutch.

“He wants to know if you know about goats.”

“Not so much about goats,” Daniel admitted. “But I’m a nurse. I know about babies. Goats can’t be much different, can they?” He couldn’t see Leah’s face in the shadows, but he sensed that she was looking at him in a different way.

“You’re a nurse?” she asked softly. “I thought nurses were women.”

“Not all nurses.” This shed wasn’t the ideal spot for a delivery. He was used to the sterile conditions of a hospital. He put his hands on the goat and she squealed and tried to get away.

“Wait,” Leah grabbed her flashlight off the bale of hay and handed it to the boy. “Hold it steady, Joey. I’ll hold the doe.” She slipped her arms around the goat’s neck and pushed against its front legs with her knee. To Daniel’s surprise, the doe’s legs folded under her and she lay down on the hay-strewn floor.

With Leah holding the animal still, it was much easier for him to run his hands along its abdomen. “I think I see the problem,” he said. “One of the kid’s legs is twisted back, keeping it from being born.”

“Is there anything you can do to help?” Leah asked softly.

Daniel liked the way she remained calm. He could imagine what the reaction of most girls would be, but she was different, more mature…sensible. He found he liked Leah Yoder more and more as the night wore on.

“If you can keep her still, I think I can wiggle that leg free and…yes, there it comes!”

The goat leaped to her feet and a moment later, another kid slipped out into the straw on the floor. The baby was still encased in the birth sac, a clear bubble; it wasn’t moving. Daniel pulled the membrane away from the nose and mouth, and began to rub the tiny body.

“Is it dead?” Joey asked, holding on to Leah’s raincoat.

The mother goat nosed the kid.

Daniel kept massaging the baby. Lifting the head, he scooped out the mouth and wiped the nose clean. “He’s tired, poor little thing,” Daniel explained softly. He picked up a handful of hay and began to rub the damp hide briskly. “Sometimes, all it takes is—”

The baby choked, coughed and let out a wail. The doe pushed past Daniel and began to lick her second newborn. In minutes, the tiny newborn was on its feet and jostling the older twin for a turn at the mother’s teats.

“You saved them,” Leah said, getting to her feet. “I didn’t think…”

“Ya,” Joey agreed, returning the flashlight to Leah. “You saved them.” He knelt beside the little goats and petted first one and then the other.

“The mother might have been able to deliver it.” Daniel didn’t want to appear to take too much credit for doing what he’d been trained to do. But secretly, he was thrilled. He’d felt that way whenever he’d seen a new life come into the world. It never failed to strengthen his faith in God. How could anyone watch a newborn take a deep breath, look around and not see God’s wonderful plan? He allowed himself a deep sigh of satisfaction and pulled off the gloves.

“I think the brunt of the storm has passed.” Leah listened for a moment. “I think it’s safe to go out again. We should get Joey home to his mother.”

“But the goats,” the boy protested. “The bad wolf might come and—”

“We’ll lock the gate,” Leah assured him. “The goats will be fine until the farmer comes tomorrow.” She took Joey’s hand. “Daniel?”

“It’s still pretty nasty out there,” he said, glancing into the dark as he grabbed his wet jacket. The rain was still coming down, though not as hard as before. “Maybe you and Joey should stay here while I go for—”

Leah laughed, her flashlight beam steady on the gate. “And do you remember the way back to the Beachy farm? Or will we have to send a search party out for you?”

He chuckled and looked down at his wet shoes. “You’re probably right.”

“I am. Now come on…we’ll go together. All three of us.”

“I guess we do make a pretty good team,” Daniel dared. He liked the sound of her laughter. She was teasing him, but not in a mocking way. She was teasing as a friend might tease another friend. It gave him a good feeling; he’d made a good friend in Seven Poplars. He had a big family, but in their travels it hadn’t always been easy to make friends and keep them. Leah was a special young woman, and he hoped he’d see her again after tonight.

The walk back to Joey’s house didn’t seem as far as it had on the way out. Another search party met up with them in the pasture. Joey’s uncle was with them, and he’d whooped for joy and picked the boy up and carried him back to the house on his shoulders.

At the Beachy house, the adults and most of the children were still awake. Men stood on the porch and outside the back door drinking cups of steaming black coffee, and someone thrust a cup into Daniel’s hand. Joey was hugged and fussed over and trundled off into the house by his mother and a gaggle of women. Leah was caught up in the crowd and vanished along with the boy.

“Good work for a city boy,” Samuel Mast said as he slapped Daniel on the back. He was grinning. Everyone was.

“Leah Yoder deserves the credit,” Daniel insisted. “She was the one who thought to go where the hay was stored. The weather had gotten so bad, I thought we should turn back.”

“But if the boy wasn’t hurt, why didn’t he run home before it got dark?” A bearded Amish man stuck his hand out and Daniel shook it. “Roman Byler,” he said. “I own the chair shop down the road.”

Daniel began to explain about the dog that Joey thought was a wolf that had chased him and the pregnant goat. Before he knew it, Joey’s mother was ushering Daniel into the house and waving him to a place at the table. Other men were already there, eating sandwiches and vegetable soup.

“To warm your insides,” Joey’s father said.

Daniel hadn’t thought he was hungry, but after the first bite, he remembered that he hadn’t eaten anything since he’d stopped for lunch on the interstate at about one o’clock. After the mishap at the rest stop, when he’d left his coat, he’d ended up running late and hadn’t had time to stop and eat before he reached Seven Poplars. The ham sandwich was good, and the soup delicious. He hadn’t had a better meal since he’d last sat at his mother’s table.

The large kitchen was overflowing with men and women, most talking to each other in Pennsylvania Dutch, laughing and joking. Daniel was surprised by how at home he felt here among these people, even though he didn’t speak their language. But the one person he kept looking for he didn’t see. He’d wanted to tell Leah how much he appreciated her help and what a great job she’d done. Soon the sun would be coming up, and he was tired. He hated to leave without saying goodbye to Leah.

Finally, when the men began to take their leave, Daniel stood, thanked his host and hostess and made his way out to where he’d left his pickup truck. Buggies were rolling out of the farmyard, and men, hands in pockets, walked off into the soft darkness.

He was disappointed that he hadn’t seen Leah, but he knew he should go. Even though his aunt knew where he was, she’d be worried about him. He put his hand on the driver’s door handle and was about to get into his truck when Leah appeared from around the back of the pickup.

“A goodnight to you, Daniel Steiner,” she said.

He looked up at her. “Excuse me?”

“I said goodnight to you, Daniel Steiner,” she repeated.

“I’m not Daniel Steiner.”

“You’re not?” Leah sounded confused. “But I thought you were Caroline’s cousin and—”

“Oh,” he said, understanding the mixup. “Caroline is my cousin. She’s a Steiner, but her mother is my aunt. I’m a Brown, Daniel Brown.”

“Daniel Brown.” Her pretty blue eyes widened. “The Daniel Brown…the speaker we were supposed to hear tonight?”

“That’s me.” Feeling awkward, he slipped his hands into his pockets. He really liked Leah, so much so that he didn’t want to say goodbye. “We’re going to reschedule for another night this coming week. I hope you…you and your friends can come back.”

“You’re the Daniel Brown—the hero who saved that boy from the mob?”

“Hardly a hero,” Daniel protested.

“I didn’t know…” She hesitated. “Now I feel foolish. I spent the whole night with you and I never asked you about your travels. I never…” She stopped and started again. “I really feel foolish.”

“Don’t. It was a natural mistake.” He struggled to find the right thing to say. He didn’t want her to walk away feeling embarrassed. “I’ll be looking for you—at the presentation. I hope you aren’t disappointed.”

“Ne,” Leah said. “You couldn’t disappoint anyone, Daniel Brown. Least of all me.”

“I’ll see you there, then?”

“Leah?” A woman called from the porch. “Are you ready?”

“Ya,” she answered. “Coming.” She smiled at him. “I’m glad you were with me tonight.”

“Me, too.”

“What you said before,” she murmured shyly. “I agree. We made a good team.”

“We did,” he concurred. And then she turned and hurried off, leaving him standing there staring after her and wishing she wasn’t going.

Chapter Four

The following morning, as golden rays of April sunlight spilled through the bedroom window, Leah sighed and snuggled deeper beneath the crisp blue and white Bear’s Paw quilt that had been her Christmas gift from her eldest sister, Johanna. Below Leah’s window, from a perch on the top rail of the garden fence, a wayward rooster crowed. Just a few more minutes, Leah thought, burrowing under her pillow. All I want is a few more…

A high-pitched giggle pierced her groggy haze. “You a-wake, Leah? Mam made pancakes!”

Leah caught the scent of fresh coffee, felt the mattress bounce and groaned. It had been nearly daylight when she’d finally gotten to bed, and she couldn’t have had more than three hours’ sleep.

“An’ bacon!” proclaimed the cheerful voice.

Leah opened one eye and smiled into the round, red-cheeked face hovering only inches from her own. “Morning, Susanna-banana,” she mumbled.

Her sister giggled again. “I’m not a banana. Get up, silly. I’m hungry.” She pushed a mug of coffee under Leah’s nose. “Brought you coffee.” It came out sounding more like toffee, but Leah had no trouble understanding Susanna’s sometimes childish speech.

“You’re always hungry,” Leah replied, but it was impossible to remain out of sorts with Susanna, even too early on a visiting Sunday when there was no church and they could sleep in. Her sister was such a sweet-natured soul that simply being near her made Leah smile. “Thanks for the coffee. Tell Mam I’ll be downstairs in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

“’Kay.” Susanna’s mouth widened in a grin as she scooted off the bed, carefully sliding the brimming cup to the end of the nightstand. Then she trotted out of the bedroom and down the hall toward the stairs.

Leah stretched and rubbed her eyes before reaching for the coffee. As always, Susanna had sweetened it to her own taste and drowned it in heavy cream, but it was hot and bracing and washed some of the sleep out of Leah’s brain. Yawning, she padded barefoot to the window and threw up the sash. The sun was already high, and the sky was a robin’s-egg blue without a hint of clouds. Spread out before her were Mam’s kitchen garden, rich farm fields and fruit trees in the first blossom of spring.

“Thank you, God,” she murmured as she breathed in the sweet smell of newly turned soil and fresh-cut grass. “Thank you for keeping Joey safe through the stormy night and letting us find him.” Closing her eyes, she offered a simple and silent prayer, asking His blessing on her family and community and for guidance through the coming day.

Almost instantly, a sense of contentment and pure joy washed over her. How was it possible that last night, an evening that had started so fearful, had turned out to be so wonderful?

Not only had Joey been returned to his family without harm, but she’d met a dynamic stranger and helped him deliver a new life into the world. Goose bumps rose on Leah’s bare arms as she exhaled softly. Nothing like that ever happened in Seven Poplars, but it had happened last night, and she’d been part of it. She couldn’t wait to tell her sisters about her adventure, especially Johanna. Of all of them, Johanna shared her sometimes rebellious spirit and would understand best how she felt.

Leah had loved coming home after almost a year in Ohio taking care of Grossmama, but things here had quickly fallen back into the ordinary. Not exactly boring… There were always chores to do and new challenges to face, especially now that Anna had married Samuel in a whirlwind romance, leaving only Susanna, Rebecca, Irwin and her at home to help Mam. But after the hustle and bustle of Grossmama’s more liberal Amish community, her new Mennonite friends, and the relative independence she and Rebecca had experienced in Ohio, it wasn’t easy settling in under Mam’s authority again. And she did have to admit to herself that sometimes Seven Poplar’s conservative customs seemed a little old-fashioned.

So many changes, Leah thought wistfully. When she and Rebecca had left for Ohio last year, the house had been bursting with unmarried sisters, and when they’d returned, three had found husbands, and Mam had hired and then practically adopted Irwin, a thirteen-year-old orphaned boy who had lived with Joey Beachy’s family. It all took a little getting used to.

Not that her beloved sisters were far away; Miriam and Ruth were just across the field in the little farmhouse with their new husbands, and Anna and Samuel’s farm was next door. But they had their own families and households, and it wasn’t the same as waking up every morning to a gaggle of giggling girls or having so many to share secrets and gossip with after the lights had been blown out at night. Plus, Grandmother Yoder, no longer able to live alone, and her sister, Aunt Jezebel, were now part of Mam’s household.

Grossmama was going to live with Anna and Samuel this summer. Anna had wanted her to move in sooner, but Mam had been firm. She’d insisted that Anna needed a few months to adjust to being a wife and mother to Samuel’s five children before taking on Grossmama, no matter how well the two of them got on together. That would leave Aunt Jezebel here, but compared to her sister, Aunt Jezzy was a dream.

“What’s taking you so long?” Rebecca called from the doorway. “You aren’t even dressed.” She came in and plopped onto the unmade bed. “Grossmama won’t be happy if her pancakes are cold.”

Leah rolled her eyes and forced back a snappy response. “Sorry. I didn’t expect anyone to wait breakfast on me this morning.” She went to the corner where her clothing hung and took down a fresh shift and a lavender-colored dress.

“Mam said not to wear that,” Rebecca said. “Wear your good blue one. Aunt Martha thinks that the lavender is too short, and she’s bound to come visiting today. She’ll want to hear all about that Mennonite preacher you were running around with in the dark last night.”

Leah wrinkled her nose. “Since when does Mam take Aunt Martha’s advice on what we should wear?”

Rebecca shrugged. “I’m just telling you what Mam said. I think Mam thinks it’s too short, too.”

Leah’s mouth puckered as she hung the lavender dress with its neat tailoring back on the hook and took down the dark blue one her mother had given her for her birthday. Leah liked the blue. It went well with her eyes and her dark auburn hair, but she was particularly fond of the lavender dress she and her Mennonite friend, Sophie Steiner, had cut and stitched. Sophie’s mother had a new electric-powered Singer that practically sewed a garment for you. Maybe the lavender was a little shorter than the blue dress, but it covered her knees and the neckline and sleeves were modest enough to satisfy even the bishop.

“And your good kapp,” Rebecca added. “No scarf today.”

Leah sighed. She and Rebecca had spent so much time together in the last year that they should have been as close as Ruth and Miriam, but somehow, this sister always brought out the worst in her. She loved Rebecca dearly, but they were just too different to have the relationship she had with Johanna or dear Anna. Leah loved to be doing something with her hands: picking blueberries, making jam or selling vegetables to the English tourists at Spence’s Auction. By contrast, Rebecca was happiest at home, drinking tea with Mam or Aunt Jezebel, reading a prayer book or writing a letter for publication in the Budget.

Rebecca never questioned the rules. She’d always been the good girl of the family, the serious one. She’d been baptized at age sixteen, before she’d even ventured into the outside world. It never occurred to Rebecca to be cross with Aunt Martha for her criticizing or bossy ways. In Leah’s mind, Rebecca was simply too meek for her own good. And worse, Rebecca couldn’t understand why Leah sometimes longed to kick out of the traces, and why, at almost twenty-one, she had yet to make the lifelong commitment to join the Amish Church.

Leah gathered her brush, kapp and her clean underclothes and started for the bathroom. “I’ll be quick,” she promised her sister. “Tell Mam, five minutes.”

“What was he like?” Rebecca asked.

“Who?”

Rebecca raised an eyebrow. “You know who. The Mennonite preacher. Was he as fast as they say?”

Annoyed, Leah stopped short and glanced back over her shoulder. “As fast as who says? Who around here knows him well enough to say something like that? That he’s fast?”

Her sister smiled. “It’s what they say about all Mennonite boys, isn’t it? People say that they’re wild, that they try to take liberties with Amish girls.”

“That’s nonsense. And Daniel isn’t a boy. He must be twenty-five, maybe older.”

Rebecca snickered. “And it’s just Daniel now, is it? But then you probably got to know him well out there in the woods. He didn’t try to steal a kiss, did he?”

“No. He didn’t. And Daniel Brown’s not a preacher. He’s a nurse, a good one.”

“And you know that how?”

“Because he helped a baby goat to be born when we were out looking for Joey. It was stuck, a leg tangled. The nanny would have died and the kid with her if Daniel hadn’t known what to do.”

“So he’s not a preacher. But he is a missionary. He must have been lots of places, known lots of English girls. Fancy foreign girls, too.”

“I suppose he has, but he was nice. Is nice. And when he gives his program, I’m going to be there to hear it.”

“If Mam lets you go again.”

Leah’s brow creased as she tried to hide the annoyance she felt at Rebecca’s words. “Ne, sister,” she answered softly. “That’s not what I said. I said I’m going to hear Daniel’s talk and see the pictures of Spain and Morocco. I’ll be twenty-one in a few weeks, and I’m an adult. I think I can decide for myself if I’m going to hear a missionary speak about his experiences in spreading God’s word, without asking for my mother’s permission.”

Rebecca slid off the bed, moisture gleaming in her dark eyes. “I’ve made you angry.”

Leah shook her head. “Not angry.”

“Ya.” A single tear blossomed on Rebecca’s cheek. “I never say the right thing to you, Leah. I try, but it always comes out wrong. I worry about you.”

Leah opened her arms and Rebecca came into them. Leah enveloped her in a hug. “Worry about me? Why? Because I hunted for a lost child last night—”

“Ne.” Her sister switched from English to Pennsylvania Dutch. “You have a good heart. It was wrong of me to tease you about the Mennonite boy. I only did it because I’m frightened that we might lose you.”

“Lose me?” Leah pulled away to look down into her sister’s face. Rebecca was a small girl, like Miriam, not tall like Mam’s side of the family. “How could you lose me?”

Rebecca clasped her hand and squeezed it hard. “You move too easily in the outside world. Since we were children, you always have. The English don’t make you uncomfortable, as they do me.”

“But why should that frighten you?”

“We’re Plain folk—we’re a people apart. Do you forget the martyrs who died that we might worship according to our beliefs?”

Leah leaned close and brushed a kiss on her sister’s temple. “How could I forget? Being who I am—who we are—is bred into me, blood and bone. Surely, listening to a Mennonite tell about his mission work doesn’t change that.”

“It’s not just that.” Another tear followed the first. “It was the Mennonite friends you made out in Ohio. You went to their charity auctions, and you went to the fair with Jeanine and Sophie. And at least once, you helped out at their bake sale for their church.”

“I did, but that was to raise money for a mission in the Ukraine. They wanted to send books and school supplies to orphans in a remote town. I wasn’t attending worship services. And going to a fair to look at animals and eat cotton candy doesn’t mean that I’ve forsaken my own faith,” Leah protested. “I haven’t.”

Rebecca’s chin quivered. “Everyone thought that you’d start classes for baptism this spring, but you didn’t. Even Ruth is concerned about you. She and Aunt Jezzy were talking about it last week after church.”

“And Mam? What does she say?”

Her sister sighed. “You know Mam. She just smiles and says, ‘All in God’s time.’ But it’s past time, Leah. You’re the prettiest girl in Kent County, but you’ve never had a steady boyfriend, and you don’t even let any boys drive you home from frolics and singings.”

Leah wrinkled her nose again as she thought of Menno Swartzentruber, who’d tried to get her to ride home in his buggy last Sunday. “Maybe I haven’t met the right boy. The ones around here seem too young and flighty.” Menno was a hard worker, but his idea of a good joke was piling straw bales across the road to stop traffic in the dark or filling a paper bag with cow manure and leaving it on an Englisher’s porch. No, she couldn’t see herself dating Menno.

“And what about Jake King from the fourth district church? He’s what? Twenty-eight or twenty-nine? He likes you, and you can’t think Jake’s too young.”