She stopped in her tracks as a pain seared across her belly. She bent over double and rubbed the spot. It subsided and turned into an ordinary stitch in her side. She couldn’t seem to get enough breath. She started to walk again, smoothing her hands over that spot to ease the sting.
She should have gotten a coat. She should have stayed in Columbus. She should have never left Pontotoc in the first place.
There went hindsight again. She pulled on the sides of her sweater, trying to draw it closer to her even though the rain had started to seep through. It was no easy task to hold the ends of her sweater together and still massage that cramping pain in her side.
Mistake upon mistake. She stepped wrong, her foot coming down on a loose rock. Her ankle twisted. She stumbled, nearly fell, then caught herself. The freezing rain was mixed with sleet now, but it was no better than it had been before. In fact, it was coming down harder. Her teeth began to chatter. She was freezing. She had to get inside. She had to find someplace for cover. It was too far to go back home.
Her ankle hurt as she hobbled on it. Stupid, stupid mistakes.
Lord, please. I’ve made more than my share of mistakes. I’ve not listened to the people who love me. And now I’m out here freezing. Please help me find the answers. Amen. But it wasn’t just Tillie who needed help. She needed help for her child. If she froze to death, so would her baby, and that could never be. She had made mistakes in being with a man who wasn’t her husband, leaving her family and the Amish behind, but she couldn’t call the child she carried a mistake. She just couldn’t. The child within her was a miracle, and she should treat it as such. She had to get herself and the baby someplace warm and dry. She could see the outline of something up ahead.
A mailbox. Where there was a mailbox it was certain that there was a barn or a house or some kind of outbuilding where she could huddle in for the night. She had thoughts of warm hay and softly breathing animals. The perfect modern-day Nativity scene, warm and glowing.
She turned down the drive. That’s what she wanted. That’s what she needed. Someplace warm, someplace dry. She could just picture it in her head. There was a light on in the window of the house. But she couldn’t disturb whoever lived there. Then they would be witness to yet another of her mistakes. If they even took her in. Too many people in their community got one look at her large belly and turned away. They were shamed by her shame, and they could barely stand to look at her. Of course, they could talk about her, but that was a different matter. She didn’t want to be turned away. It was better by far to sneak into the barn tonight and ride out the storm. Tomorrow everything would look different. Surely tomorrow everything would look brighter.
Or maybe tomorrow she should call Melvin and beg him to take her back, even though the last place she wanted to be was the English world. At least there, they didn’t look at her like she was the greatest sinner of all. At least there, she was just another pregnant woman, no special story. She felt around the side of the barn until she found the door. Thankfully, it was open, and she slid inside, grateful to be out of the weather. Not that shelter alone was much good. It was still freezing in the barn. So much for those visions of warm and toasty hay in a manger at Christmastime. It was freezing.
Tillie found a lantern and lit it. At least now she had light to see where she was. Indeed, it was the main barn. She could hear the cows shifting, and close by the horses most likely used to pull the owner’s carriage. She was sure there were a couple of Belgians stored somewhere inside to pull the plow, for most everyone in Pontotoc farmed, at least a little piece of land.
So far she was out of the rain and she had light, but the lamp could not provide the heat she needed.
She slipped out of her wet sweater and pulled on the black coat hanging on a hook just inside the door. The sweater had provided little protection against the weather, and the rain and sleet had started to seep through and soak her dress.
But at least the coat would keep her warmer than a sopping wet sweater. Her teeth still chattered, and her hands still shook. Her fingernails were blue underneath.
She blew on her hands, hoping to bring better circulation back to her fingers. Surely just a little more time in the barn and she would be warm. Well, warmer. She would settle for warmer at this point.
She had half a mind to find the carriage horse and sneak into the stall with it. Perhaps she could steal a little of its heat to warm herself. But the idea seemed a little strange. She supposed it would work, but it still seemed strange.
Or she could take off her stockings and shoes that were soaked through. What would that help? She didn’t know. She could be colder without them. Well, she doubted she would be much colder.
She blew on her fingers again, somehow managing to bite her tongue as her teeth chattered. “Ow!”
What a mess she had made of things! She was out in the middle of who knew where, in wet clothes, in a freezing barn, and she had just bit her tongue. And she was pregnant. She had really done it this time.
Maybe she could find an empty stall filled with hay. Maybe just being in a
