“No.” She tucked the sheet in beneath her. “If you are still pregnant, you must be very still. You and your bopplin are both very fragile right now.”
Rebekah sniffled and tears welled in her eyes. “Oh Mater. I am such a failure.”
“No, Dochder. You are not a failure.” Elnora smoothed the sheets beneath her and covered her with a fresh quilt. “Just have faith.”
Her mamm’s words missed their mark and did not soothe her raw heart as they had done so many times before over the years.
Elnora reached over and rested her hand on Rebekah’s shoulder, but instead of rolling to acknowledge it, she shook it off without looking at her mater. Elnora retracted her hand quickly, but still with her typical gentle nature. With almost imperceptible footsteps, she retreated from the room without another word.
A wave of guilt washed over Rebekah. “Thank you for changing my bedclothes, Mamm.”
Elnora’s footsteps may have paused at the door, but Rebekah didn’t turn over to see, and she wasn’t certain why.
Whether Elnora heard her daughter or not, her mater did not respond.
***
Rebekah woke with a start. Darkness enveloped her and blackened the windows to the outside world. She felt Joseph’s side of the bed.
Empty.
Her heart, sluggish with sleep, raced to a gallop.
Did Joseph not come to bed?
She thought for a moment. Should I risk going to find him? The unasked question almost answered itself. No. If Joseph is angry at me over my coming to the barn to check on him, it is something he has to get over on his own. I am responsible for our bopplin’s safety and wellbeing.
She cupped her hands around her belly and tried to imagine what her bopplin looked like.
Was he a fat, healthy bopplin or tiny and helpless?
Is he even still there?
What does he feel like?
Smooth and soft? Cuddly?
What does he smell like?
Newborn baby, brand new and gentle?
“Little bopplin.” Rebekah moved her hand around and around. “You are still so small. If you are even still there. Please be there.” She tried to stop the thought from coming, but it was useless. “Oh, little bopplin,” she cried as fresh tears flowed freely down her cheeks, “please be oll recht.”
Rebekah froze.
A noise, so quiet and strange, gave her pause. The musical sound of a Pennsylvania Dutch prayer rolling in from the hallway. She paused and listened harder. Am I dreaming? The voice, smooth and serene, but tinged with an urgency that you had to listen in just the right places to pick up…the voice she knew well.
Her Joseph.
Before she could call out to him, something hit her hand.
Rebekah jumped.
Did a frog just jump across my hand? The absurdity of the thought made her brows furrow. What would a frog be doing in her bedroom in the middle of the night? However, nothing else made sense. It hit her again, from the inside.
“Joseph,” she cried with a shrill peak to her tone. “Come quickly!”
Tear-stained and haggard, Joseph stumbled in. Rebekah hardly noticed his bloodshot eyes.
She was powerless to hide her excitement. “Please, can I have your hands?”
Joseph did as he was asked. She placed his hands on her belly.
“Kick your Dat, Lil’ Bit,” she whispered. “Just like you kicked me.”
Thud. Flutter. Thunk.
Joseph’s agonized countenance changed at once. His lips pulled back into a wide grin and his eyes, almost closed from happiness, eked tears of joy over fear. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead. “Thank you, Gotte,” he said. “Danki for answering my prayer.”
Rebekah’s fingers closed around Joseph’s, still warm against her stomach. “Is that what you were doing in the hallway?”
Joseph moved his hands ever so along her belly. “Yes. I asked Gotte to take me instead. To take my life and spare Lil’ Bit’s.”
Rebekah gasped. “Oh, Joseph.”
He lifted his gaze to meet hers. “However, it seems in His infinite wisdom, Gotte has seen fit to spare us both.”
Chapter Six
Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart; I appointed you as a prophet to the nations. – Jeremiah 1:5
Joseph strode into the bedroom, breakfast tray in hand. “Guess what today is!”
Rebekah grinned. “Tuesday?”
He turned and sat the tray on the side table that had seen more usage in the past eight months than ever before. As he did, Rebekah noticed a letter sticking out of his back pocket. At once, her sunny mood sunk into blackness.
“Well, yes. But more importantly, we are eight months along today.” He leaned in and pressed his lips to her cheek.
“Oh, are we?” She tried to hide the sourness from her voice but was not successful.
We aren’t anything. I am eight months along. Eight months in bed with swollen ankles and a chamber pot. She raised a weak hand and flipped her wrist. “I see Thomas brought the mail.”
“Right again.” Joseph took the already opened letter from his pocket and held it out to her. “I thought you’d like to read the latest from Katie.”
“Why would I want to do that?” Her flat voice filled the room.
The smile melted from Joseph’s face like butter in a hot skillet. There one moment, add heat, then it’s gone. Rebekah didn’t care. Her bladder ached, her legs hurt, and her face felt puffy. Hearing anything from Katie Knepp—now Katie Wagler—would only make matters worse. She stared at Joseph. “Are you really this glad to hear from her?”
