6. The Accident
THE ACCIDENT
The afternoon sun slanted through the kitchen windows of the Fisher farmhouse, casting golden rectangles across the worn wooden table.
Elizabeth stood at the counter pressing a tablecloth, the hot iron hissing softly against the damp fabric.
Behind her, Naomi fussed in her basket by the hearth, making the particular whimpering sounds that meant she was tired and overstimulated.
Hannah moved past with an armload of freshly washed linens, her face flushed from the work. “Only one more to press after that one, then we’re done.”
“Gut,” Elizabeth said, though her attention was divided between the tablecloth and Naomi’s increasing complaints.
Sadie appeared from the pantry, wiping her hands on her apron. She glanced at the basket where Naomi was now crying in earnest, her small face red with exhaustion.
“Ach, that bobbli needs a proper nap,” Sadie said, moving toward the basket. “And you need to finish helping your sister without worrying about her.”
Elizabeth set down the iron, turning. “I can manage?—”
“Why don’t I take her home?” Sadie lifted Naomi gently, and the baby’s cries subsided to hiccupping whimpers. “She needs quiet and her own bed. You need to focus here.”
Elizabeth’s chest tightened. She’d never been away from Naomi for more than an hour or two since her birth. “I don’t know if?—”
Hannah touched her arm. “It’s only for a few hours. And Sadie raised two boys—she knows what she’s doing.”
Sadie bounced Naomi gently. “I’ll send Brian to fetch you around sunset. It’ll give him something to do besides pace holes in the Dawdy Haus floor. He can’t see Hannah today, so he needs a task.”
Hannah laughed despite her obvious nervousness. “Is he that bad?”
“Terribly.” Sadie smiled. “This will help him and get Elizabeth home safely.” She looked at Elizabeth with understanding. “The bobbli will be fine. I promise.”
Elizabeth hesitated, her arms already feeling empty. But Naomi did need rest, and there was still so much to do for tomorrow.
“Jah,” she said finally. “But let me nurse her once more first.”
She settled into the rocking chair by the hearth, and Naomi latched on hungrily. Elizabeth tried to memorize the feeling—the weight of her daughter in her arms, the small hand that gripped her finger, the contented sounds of nursing.
When Naomi was finished, Elizabeth changed her into a fresh diaper and gown, then held her close one more time.
“Be gut for Sadie,” she whispered, kissing the soft curls. “Mamm will be home soon.”
Sadie took Naomi with practiced ease. “Walk down to the gate around seven. Brian will meet you there with the buggy.”
Elizabeth watched them go, following to the porch. Sadie settled Naomi in the wagon, and the baby looked back toward Elizabeth, her small face confused.
“Mamm?” she called, the word still new and uncertain on her tongue.
Elizabeth’s throat tightened. She waved, forcing a smile. “I’ll see you soon, lieva.”
The wagon pulled away, and Elizabeth stood there until it disappeared down the lane. Hannah came to stand beside her, squeezing her hand.
“She’ll be fine. And you’ll only be a few hours.”
Elizabeth nodded, not trusting her voice. Then she straightened her shoulders and turned back toward the house. There was work to do.
The afternoon passed in a blur of activity.
With Naomi gone and Sadie departed, Elizabeth and Hannah worked with focused efficiency.
They pressed the remaining tablecloths, the hot irons sending up clouds of steam that smelled of clean linen and lavender water.
They arranged flowers in mason jars—late-season asters and goldenrod, the last brave blooms of autumn.
Other women came and went throughout the afternoon, bringing contributions for tomorrow’s feast. Mrs. Yoder with her famous apple butter. Mrs. Lapp and her sister carrying baskets of fresh rolls. The Stoltzfus women with crocks of pickled vegetables.
The kitchen became a hive of coordinated activity, each woman knowing her role, the work flowing like a well-rehearsed dance.
But between the tasks, Elizabeth found moments to talk with Hannah. Real conversation, the kind that only happened between sisters.
“Are you nervous?” Elizabeth asked as they arranged flowers together, their hands working side by side.
“Terrified.” Hannah’s laugh was shaky. “And so happy I can barely breathe.”
“That sounds about right.”
Hannah paused, a sprig of goldenrod in her hand. “Do you remember Mamm before your wedding? How calm she was?”
Elizabeth’s throat tightened. “She made it all seem so simple. Like getting married was just... the next thing. Natural as breathing.”
“I wish she was here.”
“Jah.” Elizabeth reached over and squeezed her sister’s hand. “But she is here. In every choice you’ve made. Every detail you’ve planned. She taught you to make a home, to love well. That’s all here in this.”
Hannah’s eyes filled with tears. “He’s a gut man, isn’t he? Brian?”
“The best.”
“Some people will always see him as different. As the English boy who became Plain.”
Elizabeth thought about Brian’s quiet acceptance, his peace with imperfect belonging. “But you don’t see him that way.”
“Nee. I see him as mine.” Hannah’s voice was fierce with certainty. “I don’t care what anyone else thinks.”
Elizabeth felt a twist of something in her chest—admiration mixed with longing. What would it be like to be that certain? To choose love so completely, complications be damned?
Time passed more quickly than Elizabeth realized. The sun moved across the sky, shadows lengthening through the windows. Every so often, she thought of Naomi—wondered if she was sleeping, if she’d woken and cried for her mother, if Sadie was managing.
Her breasts were starting to ache, growing full and heavy. Another hour, maybe two, and she’d be home.
Around half past six, Sarah burst through the door, her face smudged with soot from the forge.
“Finished!” she announced triumphantly. “The Beilers will have the finest gates in three counties.”
Hannah laughed. “Go wash up. You look like a chimney sweep.”
Sarah glanced down at herself and grinned. “Fair point.”
While Sarah scrubbed at the pump, Elizabeth and Hannah stood back to survey their work.
The house was transformed. Tables positioned just so, benches counted and ready to be brought back in the morning.
Flowers arranged in simple mason jars, their autumn colors warm and welcoming.
Food organized in the cold cellar and spare room, ready for tomorrow’s feast.
“It’s perfect,” Hannah whispered.
“It’s exactly what you wanted,” Elizabeth agreed.
Sarah returned, her face clean, hair damp at the temples. She looked at the two of them and shook her head.
“Don’t you dare start crying before I even get here.”
But her own eyes were suspiciously bright as she pulled both her sisters into a hug.
They stood there for a long moment—the three Fisher sisters, one last time before Hannah became a Miller.
“I love you both,” Hannah said, her voice muffled against their shoulders.
“We know,” Sarah said. “Now let Elizabeth go before her bobbli forgets what she looks like.”
Elizabeth glanced out the window. The sun was low now, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. Nearly seven o’clock.
She collected her cloak from the peg by the door and wrapped it around her shoulders. The evening air would be cool.
Hannah walked her to the porch. “Thank you. For everything. I couldn’t have done this without you.”
Elizabeth hugged her sister tightly. “Tomorrow you start your new life. I’m so happy for you, Hannah. So, so happy.”
“I know.” Hannah pulled back, studying Elizabeth’s face. “Are you all right? You seem... I don’t know. Restless.”
Elizabeth paused. Was she restless? Maybe. But she couldn’t quite name why.
“Just tired,” she said finally. “And missing Naomi.”
Hannah seemed to accept this, though her eyes remained concerned. “Be careful walking in the dark.”
“Brian will be there soon.”
“Jah. Go on then.”
Elizabeth started down the porch steps, then turned back one more time. Hannah stood framed in the doorway, the lamplight from inside making her glow.
“Be happy tomorrow,” Elizabeth called softly.
“I will be.” Hannah’s smile was radiant. “I already am.”
The lane from the Fisher farmhouse to the road stretched long and quiet in the fading light. Elizabeth walked steadily, her cloak pulled close against the evening chill. Around her, autumn blazed in its last glory—leaves rustling in shades of rust and gold, the air sharp and clean.
She thought about tomorrow’s wedding. About Hannah and Brian making their vows, beginning their life together. About the community gathered to witness, to bless, to celebrate.
She thought about Naomi—how much she missed her already, how her arms felt empty without that warm weight. Her breasts were growing uncomfortably full now, a physical ache that reminded her how long she’d been away.
Almost home. Just a buggy ride and she’d be home.
She reached the gate and leaned against the post, watching the road. The sun sank lower, shadows lengthening across the fields. The sky was painted in brilliant colors—orange and pink and purple, the kind of sunset that made you believe in beauty.
But beneath the beauty, Elizabeth felt unsettled.
Not anxious exactly. Not afraid. Just... restless.
Like something was shifting inside her that she couldn’t quite name.
She told herself it was just the strangeness of being away from Naomi. Just the emotion of Hannah’s wedding, the memories of her mother that had surfaced throughout the day.
Just exhaustion from long hours of work.
But there was something else underneath. A tension she’d been carrying for weeks—maybe months—that she couldn’t quite identify.
The careful way she and John moved around each other in the Miller household. The weight of things unspoken. The feeling that something between them was unresolved, incomplete.
She shook her head, trying to clear the thoughts.
After tomorrow, she told herself. After Hannah’s wedding, maybe things will settle.