Bonus chapter from Book 3 in
the "Quilts of Lancaster County" series

A Time for Peace

1

It was official.

She wasn't a saint.

But Jenny had never claimed to be a saint. None of her Amish brethren did, either.

She knew she should be grateful for her family, and she was. Her husband's kinner were as much hers as they were his, especially young Annie who had been so young when her mother died that she didn't remember her and thought of Jenny as her mamm.

But for the past three months, since Hannah had announced that she and Chris were having a baby, Jenny felt the unaccustomed, and very unwelcome, emotion of envy. They'd only been married a year. She and Matthew had been married for three.

It wasn't fair.

Almost immediately, she felt ashamed. But she couldn't seem to help it. She wanted a baby of her own. A boppli. She loved that word. It sounded so sweet. So happy and bouncy.So cherished.

Instead, so many months had passed and still she didn't become pregnant. She wouldn't be carrying a baby close to her heart. She wouldn't share the miracle of creating life with Matthew and watching it come into the world.

Sometimes she wondered if she was showing God she didn't appreciate all He had brought into her life. After all, He'd brought her back here to have a second chance with the man she'd never forgotten. She'd gone through such a valley of despair when she'd been seriously injured during her work as a news reporter covering children in war-torn countries.

Yet Matthew had seen past that, cherished her, and shared the most precious children in the world with her.

God had even found a way for her to continue to write about the children affected by war, who she'd grown to care so much for, right here on a farm in the heart of peace, love, and simplicity.

She and Matthew had talked about how she felt when she didn't become pregnant. He'd been kind and understanding, and he had tried to comfort her—the perfect husband.

He wasn't unhappy that they hadn't had children together yet. He reminded her that before they were married, he'd told her he didn't care if her injuries prevented her from having their child. He had three to share with her, he'd said, and if they were meant to have a child together, God would send one. It was a matter of God's will, he told her. And he seemed content.

But she wasn't. Even if she tried not to think about it, every month she found that she hadn't become pregnant.

And this was the way she rewarded Him. With a lack of gratitude, with mental whining. With tears when she found that another month had come and gone and a tiny glimmer of life hadn't begun to form in her.

Sighing, Jenny threw down her pen and got up from the big table that dominated the kitchen. She was tired of working, and she couldn't seem to stay focused on her writing. Best to just get busy doing something else. Idleness wasn't encouraged here.

Not that she'd ever been an idle person. But everyone contributed here, from small children with chores appropriate to their age and ability to older family members doing what they could after they moved into a dawdi haus.

She glanced at the clock. Half an hour before the kinner got home. Time to do something constructive. If she couldn't write, then she should at least get supper started or redd-up the place a little.

Funny how she'd gotten to where she thought in Pennsylvania Dietsch, she thought. If anyone had ever told her that one day she would return to her grandmother's house here in Paradise, marry her girlhood crush, and become Amish, she would never have believed them.

But she had, and here her dreams were coming true— dreams of having a husband, having children who loved her, and having a writing career as well.

Her life was nearly perfect.

Nearly.

Sighing, she got up from the table. Nearly was a lot better than what much of the world has. She knew that better than anyone after her job as a TV news reporter.

Every time her own family gathered around this big wooden kitchen table and she saw how healthy and happy they were, how they had so much abundance of food and love and security, she made sure she thanked God.

Spring was coming. The cold of the winter had passed and she'd seen little green buds on the trees around the house that morning when she said good-bye to her family as they rushed off to work and schul. That was probably why her thoughts had turned to new life.

She was only in her early thirties and had years to have a baby, her doctor told her. Women could have them safely into their late forties, he'd told her.

But though she tried not to worry about internal injuries she'd suffered from the car bomb, there was still that little niggle of doubt in the back of her mind each month she didn't get pregnant.

Determined to push those thoughts aside, to remember to be grateful for what she had, she put away her writing things and changed to "mamm mode" as she called it.

Supper went into the oven—Matthew's favorite ham and scalloped potatoes. She'd endured a lot of teasing the first time she'd made it. Microwaved food had been her specialty before she became an Amish fraa. Now she cooked from scratch with recipes her grandmother handed down to her.

She turned from the oven when she heard a commotion at the door. The Bontrager children were sweet as can be, but when they came in the door after schul, they sounded like a herd of buffalo.

They swarmed into the kitchen and engulfed her in hugs.They charmed her into giving them the cookies she'd baked earlier that day along with big glasses of milk.

"Three? They're small," said Annie, giving Jenny her most charming smile.

"Two," she said. "They're big."

Seven-year-old Annie normally talked so much no one else had a chance to talk for a few minutes at the end of the schul day, but with her mouth stuffed with cookies, Joshua and Mary were able to talk.

"I helped Leah with John and Jacob today. They're still having trouble with math. It was fun."

"Maybe you'll be a teacher one day."

Mary smiled. "Maybe."

Jenny looked at Joshua. "And what did you do today?"

"I got a 100 on my science test."

"Very good. All your studying paid off." She knew to be careful with praise. Hochmut—pride—wasn't encouraged here.

Joshua didn't do as well at school as the girls. Annie had decided she wanted to be a writer like Jenny and Mary enjoyed teaching the younger children, so they both worked hard at lessons.Joshua liked working with animals and with his daedi in the fields and didn't think schoolwork was all that important.

The snack finished, the children got up, put their plates and glasses in the sink, and set about doing their chores. Mary began mixing up a bowl of cornbread, and Joshua went to help his daedi in the barn.

Jenny glanced out the window as she washed up and set the plates and glasses in the drying rack. She hadn't seen Phoebe all day. Usually she came over in the afternoon to have a cup of tea and a visit.

Wiping her hands on a kitchen towel, she turned to Annie who stood on tiptoe to get dishes out to set the table.

"Would you go over and see if Phoebe would like to have supper with us?"

"Ya!"

"And don't charm her into giving you more cookies."

Annie's face fell. "Not even one?"

Jenny's lips twitched as she tried to keep a straight face."Not even one. We'll be eating soon."

"Okay." She dragged her feet out of the room and left the house. But when Jenny turned and looked out the kitchen window, she saw her race across the field that separated the two houses.

A few minutes later, Annie slammed the front door and rushed into the kitchen.

"Whoa, a little quiet—" Jenny started to say and then she saw Annie's face.

"Mamm, I can't wake Phoebe up."

A chill ran down Jenny's spine. "She's taking a nap?"

"On the kitchen floor! I think she's sick! I think she's sick!"

Jenny reached over and turned the oven off, then called to Mary.

"Come help me see what's wrong with Phoebe. Annie, you go get your daedi. He's out in the barn."

Jenny lifted her skirts and ran across the field with Mary in tow, praying that nothing was seriously wrong with her grandmother.She had looked a little tired when she visited the day before but insisted she was fine when Jenny asked her.

But then again, Phoebe always acted like she wouldn't let the passing years slow her down.

"Phoebe! Phoebe!" she called as she ran into the house.

Just as Annie had said, Phoebe lay on the floor in the kitchen.