The dress he had brought her was blue. Just the simple navy blue that was so common in their district. It slipped easily over her head and fell softly around her calves. The sleeves were too long and the hem almost reached her ankles, but it was dry, and that counted for a lot.
Tillie took off her prayer kapp. The rain had practically destroyed it, but she sat it on the desk in hopes that it would at least dry by the morning.
Though Levi hadn’t mentioned it, he had brought her a towel as well. She unpinned her hair and patted it dry as best she could. Then she went about the task of making the bed. She had never made a bed in a place she never wanted to stay. It was odd to need to do that chore and hate it at the same time. But she knew Levi didn’t want her there, and that knowledge sat like a lump of clay in her belly. Unmoving, indigestible, just taking up space and making her even more uncomfortable than she already was.
She was reaching across the mattress to tuck in the fitted sheet when a twinge caught in her side. She rubbed the spot, the same spot where she had cramped up on the way there. She had heard the ladies talking about cramps like these. False labor, most the Amish said; Braxton Hicks or something like that was what the English called them, but basically it was just the baby getting ready to be born. She still had three weeks to go. But it seemed this new life was gearing up.
And then what are you going to do?
She pushed that voice away and shook out the flat sheet. It was hard smoothing it across the mattress. Her belly kept bumping the edge, and the twinge in her side tweaked every time she stretched too far. But she finally accomplished the task, as well as spreading the blankets on top. Levi had also brought her a thick afghan that wasn’t as big as the bed, so she placed it over the spot where she thought she would lay. It would add extra warmth, and right now she could use all the heat she could get.
She moved the lantern over close to the bed and pulled back the covers so she could get under them. She was loath to turn out the lamp. It was one thing to be in total darkness at home and another in the home of a man who wished she were anywhere but there. But she couldn’t leave it on all night. She doused the flame and laid her head on the soft pillow. She was tired, exhausted, but she couldn’t seem to close her eyes. The room was so dark she couldn’t tell if they were open anyway. So she made herself close them. She could do this. She would go to sleep tonight, and in the morning everything would look different. Surely the rain would stop by then. Surely her dress would be dry. She could change and walk home first thing.
Except her side still hurt. She hadn’t been paying attention to her steps and looking at where she was going. She hadn’t thought about how far she was walking. It was surprising that she made it all the way to Levi Yoder’s house. How far would she have walked had the rain not started? There was no way of knowing that now.
Tillie turned onto her right side and rubbed the aching spot on her left. That’s all she needed, a good night’s sleep, and she would be right back to her old self, which meant of course worrying about what she was going to do next, all the while knowing what had to be done. It didn’t matter about her good intentions. It didn’t matter about the fact that she didn’t consider her child a mistake. All that mattered was she wasn’t married to her father’s baby, and that man was Melvin Yoder.
* * *
Levi sighed and stared out into the darkness. Part of him wanted to sneak back up the stairs to check and see if she was really here. That was as childish as closing his eyes and pretending he wasn’t visible. Tillie Gingerich was upstairs in his guest bedroom sleeping in one of his late wife’s dresses while he lay awake and thought about it all.
So much craziness was stirring around inside his head. Thoughts of Mary and Joseph and the baby Jesus. Thoughts of his Mary and their baby, a baby boy who would have been born very, very soon had the Lord not seen fit to take them away. And thoughts of Tillie and the baby she carried. He wasn’t one for gossip, though he knew men who were. And he heard them talk. Not about Tillie and the baby, but about Melvin. How they could understand why a man with his talents for engines would want to live among the English and work where the repairs were numerous. What Levi couldn’t understand was why Melvin couldn’t remain Amish and still work on engines. Levi himself loved leatherwork, and he made things for the English. It was all a trade. As an Amish man, all his life he had lived a bit separately from the English who surrounded them. They all did. And yet they couldn’t live without them. They couldn’t completely seclude themselves. Most of the people who came into Mary’s store, her little shop where she sold jellies and necklaces made out of buttons, were English. The Amish made their own pot holders, their own jelly, and they grew their own tomatoes. They didn’t shop at each other’s stores. Those were strictly for the English, and it
