The Saddle Maker's Son Part 32

"He's coming, he's coming, Leila, I can see the top of his head." Mudder chuckled. "He has hair. Lots of it. Must take after his daed. You were bald as an old man when you were born."

Leila's laugh sounded more like a sob. "I didn't know that. When did I get hair?"

"Not until you were almost a year old. You were late getting your teeth too. You took your sweet time doing everything."

Leila shrieked again. "This bopli is tearing me apart."

"He's a big one. You were tiny, like the runt of the litter."

"How can you remember after so long?"

"I remember everything about each one of my boplin. Deborah took twenty hours to get here and then she fell asleep in your daed's arms the second she arrived. Didn't even bother to eat. Rebekah had a full head of hair and she came in only two hours, screaming at the top of her lungs. She was a big talker even then, and she came into the world in a hurry." Mudder smiled at Rebekah. "She's still in a hurry. She hasn't learned to stay still and wait upon the Lord. To be still and know He has a plan for her."

Rebekah's throat ached. She swallowed back tears. "Impatience is my biggest sin then."

"We're all impatient because we think it's about us when it's usually not. My sin is worry. For all of you." Mudder squeezed Leila's knee. "Come on, Leila, one last big push."

"I can't. I'm too tired."

"Don't you want to see this bopli?" Deborah held on to the other knee. "I want to know if Gracie has a little brother or sister. Don't you?"

"I do, I do."

"Then push."

Leila screamed. Her grip on Rebekah's hand tightened until she wanted to scream too. She bit her lip and tasted salty blood. "Gut, Schweschder, you're doing gut. Keep going. Keep going."

The door opened. Jesse stuck his head in. "I'm here. I'm here, Leila. Am I too late?"

"Nee, just in time." Mudder held up Jesse's new son, a red, wrinkled, squalling bundle of bones wrapped in a faded old towel. Gracie had a little brother. "Your suh has ten fingers and ten toes and his daed's hair."

Rebekah would never forget the look of awe on Jesse's face. "Go on. Come back in a few minutes. We still have business to take care of. Your fraa will take care of your son."

Still looking stunned, Jesse backed from the room. "I love you, Leila, love you."

The door closed.

Mudder laughed as she laid the baby in Leila's arms. "You are blessed by such a loving mann."

"I am." Leila sobbed as she clutched her son to her chest. "He's beautiful. He looks just like his daed. He's sweet, sweet, sweet."

"That he is."

Mudder's words were muddled. Rebekah tore her gaze from her handsome new nephew to glance at her. She ducked her head, intent on her work, as if she didn't know an abundance of tears streamed down her smiling face.

"Mudder, are you all right?"

"I'm wunderbarr." Mudder sniffed and wiped at her face with her sleeve, scissors dangling from her fingers. "It'll be your turn one day. I hope I'll be able to deliver more boplin."

This would be the only child of Leila and Jesse delivered by a Plain woman. Gott gave them this special moment to savor, to make memories, to hold on to when the days of separation came. As they surely would. "Can I hold him?"

Leila nodded and handed him over. "His name is Emmanuel. Jesse and I decided on that name when we had Grace."

"Gott is with us. As He is today." Rebekah cooed at her nephew, touching his cherubic cheeks and smoothing his matted hair. He did look like Jesse, but he had Leila's wide, full mouth. It remained to be seen what color his eyes would be. "He needs a bath."

Emmanuel opened his mouth and let out a cross cry. "I'll take him to Jesse, if that's all right."

"For a moment and then have Jesse bring him back to me. Mudder will stay with me."

Mute, Mudder nodded. She'd stopped crying, but her eyes were red rimmed and her nose as bright as a fresh cherry.

"Gut, I want to hear more stories about how I was as a baby." Leila patted the pillow next to her. "You should rest a minute; you look tuckered out."

Rebekah left them, three heads bent close, their chatter low and content. The Lantz women doing what they did best. Holding the family together no matter what happened.

With Gott, all things were indeed possible, even when they didn't seem probable.

Gott found a way.

THIRTY-NINE.

Nothing smelled better than leather, to Tobias's way of thinking. He inhaled and bent over the saddletree, a swivel knife in one hand and a sponge in the other. The pull-down strap was cinched plenty tight, giving him a.s.surance the swell wouldn't move on the tree as he began to tool the design he'd laid out with a light scratch earlier. The oak leaves and acorns were symmetrical, giving him a certain sense of satisfaction when nothing else in his life seemed as orderly. Rebekah was mad about Serena. David was mad about Bobbie. Daed was mad about David. Just about everyone was mad about something. So he would do what he knew how to do. Make saddles.

He had a roping saddle started in the corner, the saddle jockey done and the padded seat that went underneath ready. But first he wanted to do the design work on this saddle while the afternoon light was good. The leather had begun to dry a bit. He applied the sponge to dampen it again and began to tool the design, delighting in the way it appeared under his fingers.

"May I come in?"

The peace of the moment dissipated like fog after a morning rain that ended with sun bursting from behind drifting clouds. He lifted his swivel knife, careful not to take his displeasure out on the leather. After a breath or two he turned. "Morning."

"Morning." Bobbie moved away from the door's shadow and into the light. She looked as if she hadn't slept in a while. Her braid needed work, her plaid shirt was wrinkled, and her eyes were red rimmed. "You're hard at work."

"David's not here."

"I know. I came to see you."

Tobias dropped the knife on the table. He couldn't do intricate work when his mind was occupied by difficult situations. He would make a mistake, and leather was expensive. "Why?"

She stepped closer. "I like that design."

"That's gut. It's your saddle."

"You're making my saddle?"

"I said I would."

"After everything, you don't blame me?"

"My bruder has a mind of his own."

She touched the saddle horn with two thin fingers. She had a Winnie the Pooh bandage over one knuckle. Something about that fact made Tobias sad. She withdrew her hand. "I came to tell you David and I talked. I told him to go on home to his family."

The knot between Tobias's shoulders loosened. He picked up the swivel knife. It felt warm and familiar in his hand. "Why did you do that?"

"I love your brother."

"So you sent him away."

"I love him and I know him. He will never be happy without his family." She waved her hand toward the counters and the tools and the saddletrees. "He won't be happy without this. Without you."

"What about you?"

"I've decided to go to A&M in the fall to study agronomics. I was going to do community college first, but my grades are good and I was accepted so I figure it's time to explore new horizons."

"That was a hard decision, I reckon." He knew exactly how hard. "I know firsthand."

"One of the hardest I've ever made." Her voice quivered ever so slightly. "My mama ran off on my daddy when I was in grade school. It's just been me and him for a lot of years. I see your big family and how happy y'all are. I can't take that away from David. It wouldn't be right."

"I'm sorry."

He truly was sorry. He knew her hurt like he knew his own bruders and schweschders. How it took a person's breath and didn't give it back for days at a time. He knew how it ached in the middle of the night. How it was the first thing a person felt in the morning and the last every night. He also knew that with time, it faded until it became a dim memory and a person could start to breathe again. To feel again. To fall in love again.

"David told me about your Serena."

Tobias flinched. The sound of her name spoken aloud was like a punch in the face. "He shouldn't have done that. And she wasn't my Serena."

"She might beg to differ."

"She was a kind, smart person who might have done what you did, had I given her the chance." Instead he'd flung his decision at her and walked away. Still, she'd written him a letter only a week later, forgiving him and wishing him well. "You're a better person than I am."

"Men take longer to grow up, that's all." She smiled, a wan effort, but still a smile. "You'll get there."

"I already did."

"You found someone new? Someone of your kind?"

"I did." Even if Rebekah was mad at him. She would get over it. Or be mad a long time. "She's smart and kind too. You'll find someone right for you. Probably someone at that university."

"Maybe." She smoothed her fingers over the leather. "How long until you finish?"

"A couple of weeks."

"I'll ask Daddy to come out, pay you, and pick it up." Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. "It's better I don't come here again."

"And Cracker Jack?"

"I told you. Daddy wants you to have him. He'll bring the paperwork when he picks up the saddle."

He opened his mouth to protest, but she held up her hand and shook her finger at him. "Have a good life, Tobias Byler."

She swiveled on her snakeskin boots and walked out of his life. And more importantly, out of David's life.

Tobias went to the door. She climbed into her huge pickup truck and drove away, dust billowing, engine rumbling, and the smell of diesel acrid on the breeze. David would hurt, no doubt about it, but Bobbie McGregor had given him a special gift. A love so great she did what was best for him and not what felt best for her.

That was true love indeed. Tobias would make her the best possible saddle. The woman who loved his brother deserved that.

The dust began to settle. A buggy pa.s.sed Bobbie's truck coming toward the shop. Jacob King had the reins. He jumped down as Tobias strode out to meet him. "What's going on? Is something wrong?"

Jacob gasped as if he'd run all the way from his family farm to the shop. "You should come."

Someone was hurt. Rebekah? "Why? What is it?"

"Everything." Jacob had all Mordecai's flair for the dramatic. "Leila had a baby at our house and Lupe and Diego are there and Jesse came. I went to your house and Levi is on his way but he said to come tell you because you would want to visit the kinner-"

"Whoa, whoa!" Lupe and Diego were at Mordecai's. With Rebekah. His chance to make amends and see the kinner. He would convince Rebekah she wasn't a second choice. She was the only choice. "Why don't you give me a ride and tell me all about it on the way."

FORTY.

Finally, her turn had come. Susan settled into the oak rocking chair, Emmanuel cuddled in her arms. Leila was taking a much-needed nap. Susan touched the baby's soft cheek. He looked like his daddy. The events of the past week faded away as she gazed into Emmanuel's round face with his misshapen nose, scrunched-up forehead, and blotchy skin. He was beautiful. Gott did good work. The baby's tiny fists flailed, even as he slept.

She leaned back and rocked, humming the same lullaby she'd sung to Mordecai's children when they were boplin. The same song she sang to Phineas and Deborah's little ones. And Esther's. She sighed, choking back tears. Tears of happiness for Leila. Tears of regret for herself. Gott, take this regret from me. Let me be content with the life with which I've been blessed.

"That was an awful big sigh."

Susan opened her eyes. She'd managed to avoid Levi until now. Their paths hadn't crossed since the night in the saddle shop so unceremoniously interrupted by the grand entrance of Bobbie and David. A stab of sympathy chased away her embarra.s.sment. Levi's pain over his son's inability to make the right choice-or any choice at all-must be nearly as great as Abigail's over Leila's or Leroy's over Jesse's final choices. The possibility of raising kinner to lose them to a world so incomprehensible and so often far from Gott would twist a soul into agonizing knots. "Just contemplating the ways of the world."

"A person tends to do that with a new life in her arms." Levi leaned on his crutches and clomped to the straight-back chair that sat opposite Susan's rocker. Grimacing, he settled in and let the crutches slide to the floor with a clatter. Typical man with no thought to a sleeping baby. Pain etched his features, along with exhaustion and a certain sadness. "We haven't talked since . . . the other night."

"Nee. There's nothing to talk about."

"Nothing?" His thick eyebrows tented. "I don't know about you, but it wasn't something I tend to do often."

She smoothed the blanket around Emmanuel, rearranging the folds. "How's David?"