As Dok turned from the driveway onto the road and stepped on the gas pedal, she noticed Evie grip the car’s handle, her knuckles white. Matt was always telling her she drove too fast, but that was just him being the overly cautious cop that he was. After all, she knew these roads well. The sooner she got to where she was going, the better. But seeing Evie brace herself, she slowed down a bit. “All in all, did Clara seem a little more confident by the end of your visit?”
“Hard to say.” Evie’s face scrunched up. “I get the impression that she hides her feelings.”
Good observation, Dok thought. “Did Jacob ever come to the house? Did you meet him?”
“Briefly. He came into the house for a glass of water and left again.”
“He didn’t help with the babies? Didn’t hold them?”
“I’m not sure if he gave more than a quick glance at them.” Evie shook her head. “He reminds me of my grandfather. A good man but stern. My grandfather’s favorite saying was”—she lowered her voice to a growl—“wer sei Kinner liebt, zichdicht sie.”Love a child,chastise it.
Dok shot a glance at her. Evie hadn’t even realized she had spoken Penn Dutch. So she had a grasp of the dialect! There were moments when Dok felt as if Evie could read her mind, anticipating what she needed next for a patient. She’d chalked it up to hospital experience, but now she realized Evie had understood the conversation. She wondered why she kept thatskill to herself, and why she didn’t speak the language. Sometime, when she wasn’t in a hurry, she’d like to know more about Evie’s background. She sighed. She should try to get to know Wren and Charlie too.
“Is that typical around here? In the Amish church, I mean. The men, acting all patriarchal?”
“Some,” Dok said, turning up the long driveway that led to Windmill Farm, “but most of the men are hands-on dads.”
“That’s good to hear. Jacob seems ... quite a bit older than Clara.”
Dok nodded. “Yes. Second marriage for Jacob. He and his first wife had four children, including a set of twins. They’re grown and gone. I suppose he thinks Clara should be up for the task. His first wife handled them easily,” she said with a shrug, “so, in his mind, why can’t Clara?” She stopped at the top of the driveway to let Evie out.
Evie put a hand on the door handle. “Where is Clara’s mother? Or mother-in-law?”
“Jacob’s mother is long gone. And Clara came from a much more conservative church to marry Jacob, so her family has shunned her.” Dok sighed. “Compared to what I’ve heard of her church, Jacob might’ve seemed like a prize.” She glanced at the clock on her dashboard. “I’d better get going. But before I do, I’d like you to carry this with you.” She handed her a pager.
Giving Evie a pager had been Matt’s idea. Not only would it save time, but he liked the idea of Dok having someone with her for house calls during the night. There hadn’t been many night calls lately, but they were part of her work and always seemed to come when she least expected them. “It’s the newest model. It can deliver text messages—but with a limited character count, so I apologize in advance for abrupt-sounding messages. So I’ll see you tomorrow, unless the pager goes off tonight.”
That girl didn’t even flinch.
Evie was, Dok thought, sent straight from Heaven.
Evie tucked the pager from Dok into her pocket after setting it on vibration mode. Partly so it wouldn’t wake Wren in the night if it went off, but mostly to hide that Dok had entrusted her with a pager. Knowing would only irk Wren.
Everything Evie did seemed to irk Wren. She was an exceptionally persnickety roommate, to say the least. Wren had a laundry list of strict rules—no lights on after she went to bed, not even a tiny flashlight for reading. And regardless of how hot and stuffy the room became, Wren insisted on keeping the windows tightly closed, claiming the air stunk with manure.
The funny thing was, Wren fell asleep almost instantly and slept like a log, complete with loud, rumbling snores. Once that familiar heavy breathing filled the room, Evie would quietly tiptoe over to open the window, welcoming a much-needed breeze that swept away the stale air. She’d then slip back into bed, switch on her concealed flashlight, and read to her heart’s content. Early in the morning, before Wren stirred, she carefully closed the window. So far, Wren hadn’t caught on.
Wren had never really liked Evie, and Dok’s acceptance of Evie’s nursing skills only seemed to fuel that feeling. It was a bit of a tangled situation, but Evie couldn’t stand the thought of anyone disliking her—even if that someone had staked a claim on her darling Charlie.
Still, Evie was determined to keep being kind, hoping that eventually, she’d break through Wren’s wall and they’d become friends.
Someday, it would happen.
Opening the kitchen door of Windmill Farm, Evie sniffed the air. It was filled with the comforting smells of supper in the making. “I’ll run up and change my clothes,” she told Fern, who was scrubbing the dirt off carrots in the kitchen sink, “and come down to help.”
A few minutes later, as Evie returned to the kitchen, she said, “In your church do you see many new mothers who struggle with postpartum depression?”
Fern stopped chopping carrots to look at her in surprise. “Depression? No. None. Babies are a blessing.”
“Yes, they are. But a woman can love her baby and still feel overwhelmed by the demands of motherhood.”
Fern considered that, then shook her head and went back to chopping. “Not among our people.”
“But what if someone did? Would she feel the need to hide her depression?”
“Why would she hide it?”
“Maybe because ... she feels judged. Sounds like most of the Amish women don’t struggle with feelings of loneliness or depression.”
