Sarah's Gift by Marta Perry

didn’t remember such spirit in the girl she’d been. Maturity had changed her in a number of ways, it seemed.
    His gaze lingered on the long curve of Sarah’s slim back as she moved to the closet and opened it. He blinked and stared at a hairline crack in the plaster instead. He didn’t need to be noticing anything about Sarah Mast—that was certain sure.
    “You can see that we’re a little cramped for space.” She gestured at two large black bags on the bottom shelf. “We manage to fit what we need in our bags when we do home births, but we’d like to have about half again the storage in the birthing rooms.” She darted a glance at him. “Is this making you nervous, Aaron?”
    He shrugged, pulling his measuring tape from his pocket. “Don’t most men feel that way when it comes to talking about babies?”
    She considered, head tipped slightly to one side. “I would say that Amish men usually take birthing fairly calmly, even though they don’t talk about it much. Englischers are another matter.” Her face relaxed in a smile. “I remember one husband—a great big fellow he was, and so sure he’d be able to help his wife through delivery. Instead he passed out flat on the floor, and we had to tend him.”
    Aaron managed an answering smile, though he didn’t feel anything resembling humor. His father hadn’t done so well when Mamm was in labor, as he recalled. He’d slipped away, leaving everything to the midwife.
    Sliding out the metal tape, Aaron knelt to measure the length of the closet. The tape snapped back when he pulled out his pad and pencil.
    “Let me.” Sarah took the pencil and paper from his hand, her fingers brushing his. “You tell me the measurements, and I’ll write them down.”
    “Ja, fine.” He needed to concentrate on the job, not let his mind wander off into the past. Or onto his own personal feelings about midwives.
    Bishop Mose had pushed him into this job, and he would do it. But he didn’t have to like it.
    “Forty-eight inches long.” Still, he couldn’t help being aware of Sarah standing just behind him, the hem of her skirt brushing his arm. He swung the tape vertically. “Looks like the spacing between the shelves is fourteen inches, and the shelves are ten inches wide.”
    Sarah jotted down the numbers before she spoke again. “Deeper shelves would be more useful. Can you do that?”
    “Sure.” He glanced up at her, sidetracked for a moment by the view of her face from this unexpected angle. He stood, taking a careful step away. “Anything else?”
    “Aunt Emma loves her corner cupboard in the kitchen. I was thinking to put one in each room, if you and your brothers could do that.”
    He nodded, making a note of it. “We can. Nathan has a gut hand with designing shelf units.”
    “Nathan loves working with you. He says you started teaching him when he was barely old enough to hold the tools.”
    When had she gotten on such friendly terms with Nathan? “Ja, I guess that’s so.”
    “And I suppose you did the same with Benjamin, as well.”
    Her tone was casual, but he didn’t doubt that her thoughts were on how he’d handled the boy this morning. Already he regretted that, but he wasn’t going to say so to Sarah.
    “Benjamin does well, when he puts his mind to it. Unfortunately, that’s not often enough.” He snapped the tape closed and slid it back into his pocket.
    “Ach, he reminds me of my youngest brother, James. I think they’re all a little befuddled at that age, don’t you?”
    “Benjamin must learn to be responsible.” His voice snapped like the tape had, snicking back into its case.
    “Like you?” Her gaze met his, and there was a spark in her green eyes.
    “I have to be responsible. As you do.”
    “We’re adults. Benjamin is a boy still.”
    “And he is my brother. I will handle him as I see fit.”
    For an instant they glared at each other. Were they arguing about Benjamin? Or about the other thing that lay between them?
    The