The Amish Midwife

EIGHTEEN


I turned right and followed. Of course it was Ezra on the front of the bike. I kept my distance, not wanting to cause him to wreck, but I blinked my bright lights to get his attention.

Ella wore a helmet and a leather jacket. I presumed both were Ezra’s because his head was bare and he wore only a T-shirt. Ella’s dress fluttered free around her legs, and she leaned against Ezra’s back, her cheek on his shoulder. “Please don’t wreck,” I whispered. I’d seen far too many motorcycle accidents during my ER rotation.

I honked as we neared the willow trees and flashed my lights again. Finally, Ezra pulled over. By the time I stopped, both were laughing. Ella climbed from the motorcycle, smoothing her dress down, and then whipped the helmet off her head, her long auburn hair falling loose. She retrieved a handful of bobby pins and her cap from her apron pocket.

Ezra gave me a sheepish grin as I climbed out of my car. “We’re old friends,” he said.

“So I heard.” I hoped I looked like the gruff older cousin, ready to bust the kid. I turned to Ella. “We need to get going. Give Ezra his jacket.”

She obliged and then gave him a flirty wave as well.

“See you Sat—”

“Thanks!” she called out, obviously trying to drown out his words.

He winked.

I knew then they thought I was ancient, unable to interpret their not so subtle communication. I decided not to drill her about going on the motorcycle ride. It wasn’t my place. When we passed Klara’s she asked me how it went. I answered her vaguely, not giving many details.

“I was so nervous waiting for you,” she said. “When I heard Ezra’s motorcycle, I ran out to the road.”

Likely story. I was sure she would have ran toward the sound of Ezra’s motorcycle no matter what else was going on. “So,” I said, “that first day when I met you and you thought I was someone else—”

She squirmed a little.

“Who did you think I was?”

By the light of the full moon, I saw her roll her eyes. I stayed quiet.

Finally she said, “Ada.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

She shrugged. “Zed thought so too.”

“Ella—”

“I didn’t know you then, Lexie.” She paused. “And I thought Mom would be mad.”

“Why?”

“I grew up with her telling me I talked too much, that I didn’t have any boundaries. All of that. She expected me to be this nice little girl. But I’m not nice. And I’m not Amish.”

I wanted to laugh. She was one of the nicest people I’d ever met. And her life didn’t seem that different from the Amish.

“I’m sorry,” she said, turning toward me. “So you and Ada are cousins. You already knew that, right?”

“Yes,” I said.

“But you two look more alike than most cousins—for example, more alike than you and I do.”

“Genetics,” I said. “It could happen.” But I wasn’t sure. Maybe we were just cousins who happened to share a number of dominant genes, but I suspected that we were even more, that we were half sisters instead.

“Are you going to stay?” Ella turned up the heat in the car.

“I probably should…at least until Saturday,” I answered, giving her a sideways glance.

“Don’t tell Mom.”

“What do you have planned?”

“Volleyball and a sing.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“Honest,” Ella said. “That’s what Amish kids do.”

“Even ones on their rumschpringe?”

“Ya,” she answered. “Even those. Besides,” she said. “Saturday is my sixteenth birthday.”

Marta stood at the kitchen sink, washing dishes when we arrived. She’d made a broccoli-and-rice casserole for dinner that Ella and I ate as we told her about Esther’s delivery. Next I told her about checking on Peggy and little Thomas.

Ella shot me a look but she didn’t need to. I had no desire to tell Marta about my stop at Klara’s. I still felt as though I’d been gutted alive. Besides, what if Marta and Klara formed an alliance and ganged up on me? I couldn’t handle them one-on-one, let alone two-on-one.

Worse, I was still feeling guilty about my own behavior from earlier, when I had so stubbornly forced Marta’s hand once I knew we had a patient in labor. Though I deserved to get all of the information she had given me thus far—and plenty more, for that matter—I still didn’t like the way I had gone about it, and something in me wanted to make amends.

“Would it help if I stayed another week?” I asked Marta. “I can call the agency tomorrow. If I use the extended-stay hotel, I don’t need to find a place to live.” I had to go back and see Ada and soon. Once I left Lancaster County, I didn’t know how long it would be before I could return.

She did that funny little lip purse I’d seen so many times. Finally she said, “I don’t want to put you out.”

I stood and picked up my plate, carrying it to the sink. “Think about it.”

“Maybe just until I find someone else. It should only take a few days.”

“Just until then,” I said, suddenly exhausted. I quietly washed my dishes and put them in the rack, hoping Sean would be free for lunch the next day.