Free Crossing by Gilbert Morris

Grandmother?”
    Zemira smiled. “I think the Lord tells me things. It’s not like I hear His voice; it’s just a knowing. So how far along are you?”
    “I’ve been telling myself not to hope too much,” Becky answered. “It would just be a couple of weeks. But like you, Grandmother, I feel like I just …
know
.”
    “Women do.” Zemira nodded. “Women generally do.”
    They shelled peas in silence for a while, their nimble fingers stripping the tough, stringy stems and separating them into bitesized chunks.
    “You and Daniel have been worried, haven’t you?” Zemira asked softly.
    Becky didn’t answer; she ducked her head and shelled peas energetically.
    “It’s all right,” Zemira continued. “I know you’ve wondered, though Daniel wouldn’t say anything. You’ve been married eight months now, and I know it makes you anxious to wait. Jacob and I were married for almost forty years and had only one son. And Daniel didn’t come along until we’d been married for fourteen years. I know you and he have thought about that.” Zemira sighed deeply. She wouldn’t tell of the two stillborn sisters Daniel had, one in 1818 and one in 1820. Daniel hadn’t been born until 1823.
    “It’s—it’s not just you, Grandmother,” Becky said hesitantly. “It’s my family, too. I mean, I was born, but then it was eight years until Shadrach was born, and then another six until Judith, and a year later Lois. Daniel and I—it’s just that we both want children so badly, and we both want four, maybe five. I don’t know if I’ll—that is, if time—if we can—”
    Zemira dropped her hands and gazed at her daughter-in-law sternly. “Child, you talk foolishness. My son has become a good man, a fine man, constant in the Lord and walking in His will. You are a good and faithful Christian woman. God will bless you. I’ve no doubt in my mind.”
    Becky ducked her head. “Yes. Yes, you’re right, Grandmother, as always. I’m very proud of Daniel, and I’m so blessed to have him for a husband.”
    Zemira nodded emphatically. “I’m so proud of him, too. He’s a good son, and a good husband, and a good father.” She bent to her work again. “But he did have his wanderings. And I think that Yancy may, too. You wouldn’t know it from the way Daniel is now, but Yancy is so much like him, when Daniel was in rumspringa.”
    “You see that in Yancy? That same rebelliousness?”
    Zemira glanced at her. “Has Daniel ever told you about his time then? When he left home?”
    “No, he hasn’t, and I haven’t wanted to intrude on him to ask. Whatever happened then, he’s a different man now.”
    “That’s the truth, daughter,” Zemira agreed. “And I have to say that Yancy is much better behaved than Daniel was then. Maybe it’s just a young man’s restlessness. He does get into scuffles with the young men, and the girls say he’s very forward with them.”
    Becky laughed. “The young men that he’s bested say that, and I think the young girls that complain about him are the ones that don’t get his attention. He’s a very good-looking young man, you know, and he is strong and quick and probably very desirable to young women.”
    “I suppose so,” Zemira said grumpily, “but the bishop is out here every week, it seems, complaining about another one of his scrapes. It’s getting harder to find excuses for him.”
    Becky answered, “But you do find excuses for him, as I do. All we can do is pray, Grandmother. Pray that he stays with us and finds God. Until then, we must find more excuses.”

    It was a fruitful year and a bountiful harvest. Even the winter seemed benevolent. They had picturesque snows for Thanksgiving and Christmas and bright, brisk days for the New Year.
    Becky and Zemira had been right. Becky was expecting, and though it was an easy winter in the valley, it was hard for her and Daniel. She was due in April and it seemed as if the baby—and the spring—would never come.
    But the