The Hand that Rocks the Ladle Read Online Free Page B

them at other hospitals, this hospital had locks on the doors.
    “Ach, my Mose,” Freni wailed piteously, “what will I do without him?”
    Jonathan prevailed over centuries of inbreeding long enough to put a clumsy hand on his mother’s shoulder. “He’ll be all right, Mama. I will say a prayer for him.”
    “Yah, prayer is good.” Freni turned and grabbed my arm, her tiny fingers drilling into me like steel bits. “I must stay here to be near my Mose, so, Magdalena, it is up to you.”
    “What is?”
    “You must find my missing baby!”
    “Me? What about Jonathan?”
    “My Jonathan, he must return to his babies.”
    “And to his wife, Barbara.”
    Freni flinched. “Yah, to her as well. So you see, Magdalena, only you have the time to look for Little Freni.”
    “But I don’t have time!” I wailed. “I have an inn full of guests and—ouch!” The steel fingers were about to strike bone.
    “You’ll find her?”
    “I’ll do my best, but—ah—stop that!”
    “Do you promise?”
    “I’ll find Little Freni!” I shrieked.
    Freni smiled. A Yoder, she knew, never breaks a promise.
     
    Well, we almost never break a promise. I promised to love and honor Aaron until death did us part, but I didn’t know at that time that he was already married. As a little girl I promised our parents that I would always look out for my baby sister, but how was I to know she would never grow up? And of course I’ve promised myself a lot of things that have never come to pass. But in general, one can count on a Yoder’s word.
    Freni, the poor dear, found a folding chair and parked it in front of the examining-room door. Jonathan hoofed it back to the maternity ward, and I hoofed after him. I wish with all my heart Freni had been along. Her beloved son didn’t even peek through the nursery window, but headed straight to his wife’s side. When I saw how tenderly they greeted each other, I turned and retraced my steps to the nursery.
    Little Mose and Little Jonathan were the only two babies in the room. They occupied adjacent incubators, and the baby on the right was being attended to by a nurse with obviously bleached blond hair. She saw me watching her through the window and beckoned to me.
    I hesitated at the door. “I can’t come in. If Nurse Dudley sees me in there, I’m history.”
    The blond nurse laughed. “I can fix that.” She walked over to a nearby desk, pushed a button, and the drapes closed. “Now put these on.” She handed me an ugly green gown and mask.
    I did as I was bade and was straightaway led to the incubators. I stared in wonder at the newborns.
    “They’re so tiny,” I said in awe. Believe me, I wasn’t going to say they were cute. Only one baby that I know of—moi—was ever born cute, and my looks have gone steadily downhill since then.
    “Actually, they’re very large for twins. This one weighs five pounds eight ounces, and his brother a whopping six pounds two. They actually don’t need to be in incubators. It’s just a precaution.”
    “Which one is which?”
    “I beg your pardon?” Her eyes, over the mask, seemed strangely familiar.
    “I mean, which one is Little Jonathan and which one is Little Mose?”
    “That hasn’t been decided yet. For now we have them labeled as Baby Hostetler number one, and Baby Hostetler number two.”
    I stared at the tiny, squished faces. Neither of them looked like their parents, and they both looked more like Freni than Mose. Of course, at that age most babies look like dried apricots.
    “Were you the attending nurse at their birth?”
    She nodded. “I’m the only nurse on duty tonight in maternity. In case you haven’t noticed, this is a very small hospital.”
    “I’ve noticed, dear,” I said calmly, “but we’re fortunate to have it, aren’t we?”
    “Oh, yes,” she said, “don’t get me wrong. It’s just that where I come from—Pittsburgh—this wouldn’t even be considered a clinic. Still, I guess for a one- horse town