“Ja.”
She gulped and dared a peek at her mamm. “When?”
“With all of your bruders and schwesters who passed to heaven before you came to be my dochder.”
Rebekah’s throat tightened. “How many?”
Elnora closed her eyes. “I quit counting at one. Lieb isn’t something that you can number, sweet dochder. Each time my heart broke as though it was the first time, again and again.”
“What was the first time like, Mamm? When you lost your baby?”
Elnora shifted her weight. Rebekah could see that her question made her mater uncomfortable, but she really wanted to know. “Do you really want to know, Dochder?”
Rebekah was not quite sure that she did, but her curiosity won out. “Ja.”
Elnora looked as though she would rather be anywhere else, talking about anything else. “I had just begun to feel different. Sick at my stomach at odd times. Dizzy. Much like you felt in the barn today if what Thomas tells me is accurate.”
“Thomas.” Rebekah smiled. “My little angel bruder.”
“He thinks the same as you.” Elnora returned her smile. “As soon as I started feeling strange, I started bleeding. And bleeding. And bleeding.”
Rebekah’s heart went out to her mother. “Oh, Mater.”
“I thought it was my normal monthly, with cramping and pain in my stomach and back, but then I saw something else there.”
Rebekah leaned forward. “What?”
“A tiny baby. Perfectly formed. My first baby.” Elnora looked everywhere but at Rebekah. “And I could not keep her safe.”
Rebekah’s voice was a whisper. “She was a girl?”
Elnora shrugged and appeared to look off somewhere, maybe somewhere into the past. “I do not know for certain. But I like to think so.” She took a deep breath, then came back to the present. “Or maybe it was just Gotte’s voice, deep inside me, telling me my first child would be a girl.” She looked at her daughter and smiled her sweet, motherly smile. “You.”
Rebekah laid her hand atop her mother’s. Words could not express the sentiment of love and belonging that came from her mother’s words, so Rebekah opted for a comfortable, shared silence instead.
The twinkle of genuine happiness had gone from Elnora’s eyes, leaving a ghost of nostalgia in its wake.
Rebekah dared continue. “Were they all like that?” She swallowed hard. “All of the passing’s of my siblings?”
“Some were. Some were worse.”
“Worse?”
Elnora’s free hand went to her belly. “Ja. As in further along in my pregnancy. And a bigger bopplin.”
“You never told me…”
Elnora cut her off. “I never told anyone. Not even Heloise, my best friend apart from your fater.”
Rebekah thought to herself before she spoke. “Did you name them, Mamm?”
Elnora’s lower lip quivered. “The answer to that question, my darling dochder, is something I talk about only with Gotte. Not even with your fater.”
Finally, Elnora eased down onto the bed next to her. “So, you must do as I say. Rest as much as you can, even if it means staying in bed. Let your bopplin grow. Everything else in your life can wait. Remember, you are all that your bopplin has, and it is a hard burden to carry. One that you alone must carry. Believe me.”
Rebekah offered a pallid smile to her mamm. “I understand. Danki for talking to me about your secrets.”
“Gute.” Elnora rose. “I will bring you something to eat in a little while. And Rebekah?”
“Yes, Mamm?” Her clammy hand slid from Elnora’s, so she clutched the quilt instead.
“The chamber pot is right here, beneath the window. You can reach it easily.” Her mother motioned to the blue pot beside the nightstand. “If the need strikes, use it.”
Heat crept into Rebekah’s cheeks at the prospect of using the chamber pot. “Yes, Mamm.”
“I must get your fater home now. He was so worried about you. I fear he tired himself out even further by coming with me here.”
Rebekah shifted her weight in the bed, uncomfortable under the weight of her mother’s words. “I am so sorry for falling ill.”
“No child. Do not be sorry. Look at your fater and see what love does. See how it gives you courage and strength to do things that you might not otherwise believe you could.” She offered her daughter a wry smile.
Rebekah kissed her fingers and held them out to her mother. Then, as quietly as she’d come, Elnora made her exit. As she eased the door closed behind her, Rebekah saw her lean to help Samuel to his feet. Her heart twisted in her chest. Love.
When I become a parent, will it change the way I love, too?
From somewhere in the hallway, bopplin Beanie, the baby Rebekah herself helped deliver, squeaked his trademark toddler squeak. Elnora called that particular squeak his mamm call.
Rebekah shifted on the bed again. “Mamm had a gute idea about the chamber pot.” She leaned carefully toward the nightstand, but something else caught her eye. Something that had more urgency in it than her need for the chamber pot. The letter from Katie lying there. Innocent. Forgotten.
