Levi nodded. “Danki,” he said and shook the officer’s hand.
A moment later Carmichael was out the door and seated in his patrol car, no doubt trying to reach Leah to tell her that Tillie was ready to go home.
The trouble was Tillie was nowhere near ready to leave.
* * *
He remembered when he was little taking a bath in a warm tub of water filled with bubbles. Some would rise and he would poke them with his finger. They would pop with small bursts, then disappear. That was sort of how he felt right then. How had he managed to let himself become so ingrained with Tillie and her baby? If anyone had told him two weeks ago that this was going to happen, he would have laughed in their face. Or at least told them to go to the doctor; that they were crazy. Even crazier than his sweet old aunt who ate the gingerbread house each Christmas.
Tillie turned to him with an expression he couldn’t read. “I guess I should get my things together,” she said. “If I know Leah, she’ll be out here in a heartbeat.”
He cleared his throat, which suddenly felt tight. “I’m sure your mamm is ready to see you and make sure that you and that baby are okay.” It was understandable. What mother wouldn’t be worried about her child and her grandchild? What mother wouldn’t be worried about her grandchild who was born in the middle of an ice storm?
“I’ll get you a bag.” He started toward the baby’s room. But she grabbed his arm.
“I didn’t come with anything.”
He nodded. “But you’re leaving with a baby who has things that she’s going to need.”
She shook her head. “I can’t take your things.”
“I’ve been needing to get rid of some of this for a while. I would love for you and Emmy to have it.”
“All we need is the blanket and the clothes she’s wearing. We’ll take care of the rest on our own.”
After all she had been through, now she wanted to be prideful? “Please let me do this, Tillie.”
At his beseeching tone she stopped, seemed to wilt a little in place. “Only if you’re sure,” she said.
“I am.”
She released his arm and he walked into what would’ve been his son’s room. He was oh so aware of Tillie right behind him.
“I don’t suppose you brought any baby things with you when you left . . . Columbus.” He couldn’t quite bring himself to say Melvin’s name. He was disappointed in the man. He had a wonderful woman like Tillie, a beautiful baby like Emmy. Granted, he hadn’t seen the child, but he had known she was coming. And he knew that Tillie wanted to leave. So why even after a week was he still not there?
Levi supposed the man could still turn up. It was Christmas, after all, and a season of miracles.
He had known Melvin before. Just a little. And he knew that Melvin was one of those born in the wrong place. Just like some people dreamed of being Amish, some Amish had dreams of the English from the very start. As far as Levi could tell, Melvin Yoder was one of those people.
“No.” The one word was small and held more meaning than fit into letters. And he knew without her telling him that there were no things she could’ve brought. There was no money for them in the first place and no room where she lived. Somehow he knew.
He picked up the black-and-white diaper bag that Joy, Mary’s sister, had given her. “It’s used,” he explained. “But most of the stuff is. Not the diapers, of course. Mary’s family brought most of this over when she found out she was going to have a baby.” He stuttered over those last words. Not from pain of loss, but simply because pregnancy wasn’t something men and women talked about. Not even married couples discussed such matters regularly.
“I appreciate it,” she said. From her tone he couldn’t tell if she noticed his hesitation or not.
He placed the bag on the fancy English changing table that Mary had insisted on buying at the flea market and began filling it with diapers. “I’m just happy that someone is getting some use from these things now.” And it was the truth. Somehow putting these items to use lessened his pain and gave a jump start to his healing.
He added a couple of thin blankets and one made from the soft fleece fabric Mary had bought at the store in town.
“But—” Tillie moved toward him. “That looks handmade.”
He knew what she was saying—commercially made socks and little nightgowns weren’t as intimate as something that Mary had made for their baby. But that baby was gone and this baby was here.
“I think Mary would want you to have it.” Mary’s baby was in heaven with her and warm enough for sure.
Tillie swallowed hard, then gave a small nod, and Levi put the blanket into the bag. A couple of hats, the knit kind to keep the baby’s head warm, a few more pairs of impossibly small socks, and a stack of what Mary had called onesies. The gowns went in as well.
“If there’s anything else you’d like to have . . .”
“You’ve been more than generous,” Tillie said.
“It’s been my pleasure.” And it was. As strange as it seemed, he had wanted to cut himself off from the world, and he had, but he had thought to do it alone. Instead he was with a woman and a baby who somehow changed everything for him. It was true he still felt the pain of loss, but the thought of Mary and the baby now didn’t make his heart bleed. Somehow Tillie being in his house with Emmy enabled him to separate the two: Mary and their baby in heaven and Tillie and her baby here. So strange the difference a couple of
