22
David Stoltzfus eased Sally Fisher into one of the old rockers in front of the cold, still woodstove at the Bent N’ Dent. It was early—barely seven—and the store wouldn’t open for another hour. Over the past few days, he’d reached out to the direct descendants of Laura Zook and Carolyn Fisher, inviting them to Wren Baker’s talk about the pharmaceutical company and the trial medication. But turnout was slim; most claimed to be too busy. So far, Sally was here, along with her uncle Pete and his wife Elizabeth. Carolyn Fisher’s elderly first cousins, Alice and Ada, had made it and flanked Sally on either side, as if she needed some shoring and bolstering. Maybe she did. Or maybe they just needed to sit close enough to catch what Wren Baker had to say—their hearing was a bit hit or miss.
To David’s surprise, Clara Zook had arrived with her babies in a stroller. He hadn’t even thought to invite her. Clara wasn’t directly related to Laura Zook—her husband was, though the connection was extremely distant.
Two others showed up who weren’t related to anyone but always managed to find their way into these sorts of gatherings: Hank Lapp and Sarah Blank. David considered asking them toleave but thought better of it. He didn’t want Clara to misunderstand and think he meant her. She was sensitive like that.
Wren stood in front of the small group, holding the files. She looked at each person before she introduced herself. “Thank you for coming today. While clearing out the basement of Dr. Stoltzfus’s office, I found these three files. They contain records from two generations ago, documenting a trial medication given to three Amish women suffering from postpartum depression. The drug had severe side effects, and many of these women, including my grandmother, suffered greatly from it.”
“WHO’S your grandmother?” That came from Hank.
“Mary Baker.”
The Zooks exchanged a look. “Baseball Joe’s Mary?” Pete said.
“My grandfather was named Joseph,” Wren said, “and he was a baseball player.”
“Why, I do remember them,” Elizabeth said.
Wren was delighted. “I’m so pleased that you remember my grandparents!”
“That’s because we’re AMISH,” Hank said. “Everybody finds out EVERYTHING.”
Sarah, leaning against the checkout counter, giggled.
Elizabeth lifted a hand. “But I believe Mary and Joe left the Amish.”
“That’s correct,” Wren said.
“Joe wanted to become a professional baseball player,” Pete Zook said. “Did he ever do it?”
“Well, no,” Wren said. “He was a used car salesman.”
“OOOOF,” Hank said. “Not even close.”
“If we could stay focused,” Wren said with a frown at Hank, “I wondered if you could think back. Were you aware of your relative taking this medicine? Did it give her any lingering side effects? For example, my grandmother Mary didn’t have any other children after twins.”
“MAYBE twins were ENOUGH for her. Our Clara might understand THAT!” Hank said. “CAN’T you, Clara? When those babies start hollering, my molars start RATTLING.”
Mortified, Clara Zook stood against the wall, pushing the twins’ stroller back and forth. She pressed her finger against her mouth to silence Hank, but he’d gone back to cracking open shells to pop peanuts in his mouth, oblivious. David shook his head.
“Oh, that is too bad,” Sally Fisher said. “Children are a blessing from the Lord. Though sometimes sons can be rather insensitive. Don’t expect much on Mother’s Day, I’ve learned.”
Oh boy, David thought.
Wren looked a little panicked. “So I wondered if your relatives might have had a similar result from taking the drug.”
“And WHAT drug was this?” Hank said.
Wren sighed. “It was called Serofem and it was taken for postpartum depression.”
Hank leaned forward in his rocking chair. “POSTPARTY depression?”
“Close enough,” Wren said with a minimal eye roll. “It often hits after a woman delivers a baby. Some experience a lot of difficulty in those first few weeks and months. It should be a happy time for a mother—”
“It is a happy time,” Elizabeth said.
“Happy until your children marry,” Sally said, “and forget all about you.”
