Sarah's Gift by Marta Perry Page A

door swung open, and Emma hurried in. “Ach, Sarah, we must hurry. It’s almost time for the patients to start arriving.”
    Tension tightened his hands into fists. “I thought you didn’t see patients today,” he said.
    “We don’t.” Sarah had paled. She moved quickly to Emma and took her arm. “We don’t have any patients coming today, Aunt Emma. Remember? This is Wednesday.”
    For a moment Emma just stared at her. Then she shook her head, her concerned expression dissolving in ruefulness. “Ach, I’m ferhoodled today. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
    “You’re tired, that’s all.” Sarah took the older woman’s arm and turned her toward the door. “Why don’t you have a rest? I’ll clean up from lunch as soon as Aaron and I are finished.”
    Sarah’s caring, her gentleness, seemed to touch something inside him. But the incident just confirmed what he already felt. Emma should retire. Surely Sarah could see that as well as he did.
    Emma went out, still shaking her head at herself. Sarah swung toward him, face defensive.
    “I suppose you think that means something.”
    “I think it means what any sensible person would think. Emma is growing forgetful. She shouldn’t be delivering babies.”
    Sarah folded her arms across her chest. “Just because she loses track of the days doesn’t mean she has to be put out to pasture.”
    “What if she forgets when she’s supposed to be delivering a baby?”
    “That won’t happen. I’m here. I won’t let it.”
    “You can’t do everything, Sarah.” His voice softened despite himself. She seemed so alone. He didn’t want her to be hurt. “It’s not too late to pull back from the project. You don’t have to sink your savings into something that may not work out.”
    “You’d like to get out of this, wouldn’t you?” The flare of defiance that accompanied the words startled him. “You may as well forget that idea, Aaron. I’m not changing my plans for you or anyone else.”
     
    Aunt Emma might have grown a little forgetful, but not when it came to the activities of her church. So Sarah found herself in the kitchen at the township fire hall at five in the morning. The cement-block building was filled with a group of women putting on a hunters’ breakfast to raise money for charity.
    She’d already been awake when Aunt Emma came to call her at four. Her sleep had been troubled by the guilt that hung over her. She had lost her temper with Aaron and spoken hasty, angry words. She almost never did such a thing, and she couldn’t understand what had gotten into her.
    She’d already asked God for forgiveness. She’d have to ask Aaron, as well, before things would be right.
    “Do you do this every year?” She stood next to Leah at the huge commercial gas range, watching over griddle after griddle filled with pancakes.
    “Just about.” Leah flipped blueberry pancakes with an expert hand. “Everyone comes, Amish, Mennonite, and Englisch alike, and not only hunters. This year the money will go to Mennonite Disaster Relief for hurricane victims.”
    “My church in Ohio raised money for that, too.” Sarah scooped buckwheat batter onto a griddle. “This was a bad year for hurricanes, for sure.”
    She glanced through the pass-through at the large open room filled with long tables. They were already lined with people in hunter orange, eating their way through mountains of pancakes, sausage, bacon, and eggs prepared all ways, to say nothing of all the coffeecakes and breads the women had brought.
    “Looks like you’ll raise plenty of money today,” she said.
    “ We’ll raise plenty,” Leah said, correcting her with a smile. “You are one of us now, remember?”
    “Ja, I remember.” It felt good, being accepted here. The warmth, chatter, and laughter of the kitchen seemed to envelop Sarah with a sense of familiarity. This day was such an example of what it meant to be Amish.
    “It’s gut, working together this way.” Leah seemed