An Amish Homecoming Page 16

  “Annie, take Suzie upstairs and show her where she can wash up,” Miriam instructed. “I’m sure you can find an extra nightgown of Essie’s to fit her. Essie won’t mind.”

  Serena watched the girls go upstairs, and then followed Aunt Miriam into the kitchen. “Is she going to be okay?”

  Miriam nodded. “She was spared a concussion, thanks to Gott, but we need to watch over her.”

  “How is Harlan’s mother?”

  “Sorry to say, she’s worse off. They think it’s a broken leg, and it sounds like she’ll need to stay in the hospital a few days. Surgery might be necessary. Harlan was waiting to talk with her doctor when we left. I would have stayed longer, but Suzie needed to leave that uncomfortable hospital and get rest.”

  “It’s really nice that you’re taking care of her.”

  Miriam smiled and put a hand on Serena’s shoulder. “That’s what we must do. Love your neighbor as yourself.”

  As her aunt helped herself to a small serving of the casserole, Serena wondered if Miriam had always been this way—generous, unassuming, and cheerful. It wasn’t just the fact that she did nice things for people. A lot of people did favors for others. Aunt Miriam committed acts of kindness joyfully, as if it made her the happiest person on earth. And maybe, just maybe she was.

  * * *

  That night Serena wrapped a blanket around her shoulders as she set out to greet Scout. In the time since she’d arrived here the nights had become noticeably cooler, and Serena wondered if there might come a day when she was traipsing out here to see Scout in the snow. Well, even a blizzard wouldn’t stop her from visiting with Scout.

  Their nightly meetings were usually the highlight of her day, as they used their short span of time together to catch up on each other’s joys and disappointments. And tonight, she had a bazillion things to tell him about the events of the day. The agitator had been shut off, and he must have finished testing samples of the milk, as he was hooking up the hose when she approached. The warm smile on his face let her know how happy he was to see her. Every night, Scout had that smile. She’d never had a boyfriend who’d appreciated her this much. As soon as the milk was pumping, they walked to their usual spot—the picnic table on the lawn—to get away from the noise of the truck.

  “I got your text about needing more furniture,” he said.

  She had forgotten about the message she’d sent earlier that day. It seemed like weeks ago.

  “Mom says you’re welcome to anything in the garage. She’s actually really pleased with the way you restored the pieces you worked on. Very ‘of the moment,’ that’s what she calls the style. So you should come over this weekend and pick out more furniture.”

  “That would be great. But I’ve had such a crazy day.” Serena sat beside him on the seat of the wooden picnic table. “Right after I sent you that text, Essie and I were stuck in traffic. Turned out it was a crashed buggy, and Harlan’s mom and sister were inside. They both went to the hospital, and poor Essie . . . I felt awful for her. I know that fear, when someone you love is in the hospital and you don’t know what’s going on. I went through that with my mom, more than once.” She told him the latest news on Suzie and Collette Yoder.

  “I’m sorry to hear all that,” Scout said. “I wish them both a speedy recovery.”

  “It’s so hard on Harlan and Essie. They’re still at the hospital now! Aunt Miriam said she wouldn’t be surprised if they stay the night there.”

  “I don’t like hospitals.”

  “I don’t either.” She adjusted the blanket on her shoulders and let out her breath in a huff of air. “My mind is kind of buzzing and spinning. It’s hard to push back the worry and stress.”

  “That’s when you know you’ve got to kiss things up to God.” Scout kissed his fingertips and lifted his hand to the sky.

  “I wish it was that easy.”

  “It is,” he insisted.

  He climbed up to the tabletop, took her hand, and helped her climb up beside him. Side by side, they stretched out on the tabletop facing the sky. This had become one of their nightly rituals, lying shoulder to shoulder and staring up at the night sky to soak up the moon and the stars. Tonight she was conscious of the warmth of his body along her right side, and she snuggled closer to him.

  “Cold?” he asked.

  “A little.”

  He sat up a second to slip off his leather jacket, and then spread it open over the two of them. Serena loved the way it had captured his warmth, and the leathery, clean smell reminded her of Scout.

  “That’s cozy,” she said. “Look at that.... Plenty of stars out tonight.”

  “Yeah, they’re always in the sky. We just can’t see them because of cloud cover, light, and pollution.”

  “Such a scientist you are.”

  “Science is life. When my mind is spinning and I have trouble thinking straight, I look at the stars. The sky is where science and God converge in a wonderful way. We can study the universe from our planet, but despite telescopes and great innovations, there are still countless mysteries in God’s universe.”

  “That’s such a beautiful thought,” she said.

  Under the jacket he linked his fingers through hers and held her hand to his chest. “Thanks. It gives me comfort.”

  She took a deep breath, her cheek resting against Scout’s shoulder. It did calm the flurry in her mind, sky-gazing with Scout by her side. The air was just cool enough to make her burrow closer to him. “Teach me about the stars,” she said. “I know it’s complex, but what would you cover in lesson one.”

  “Lesson one. Well, most people would start with the Big Dipper. It’s easier to see in the spring, but I’ll bet we can find it tonight. Let’s see. If we can find the North Star, we can find the Big Dipper.”

  “I’ve heard of the Big Dipper,” she said. “When I was in school I learned that black slaves called the Big Dipper the Drinking Gourd. I think they used it to navigate to the North, to escape slavery in the South.”

  “See? You can do astronomy,” he said. “And you’ve soaked up some important history, too. So to find the Big Dipper, you start out by looking north, which is that direction.” He pointed toward the barn. “The North Star, also called Polaris, stays stationary in the northern sky. That’s why sailors used to navigate by it. See it there?”

  She did. “I got it.”

  “So the Big Dipper is going to be near the North Star. It rotates around it. The bowl of the Big Dipper is four stars, sort of an irregular square. And the handle is three stars.” He paused. “Right now it’s sort of tipped down, like someone’s pouring water out of it.”

  As he spoke, the shape of the constellation seemed to pop in the dark sky. “I see it!” For a moment Serena lay beside him gazing up at the inky dark sky and the tiny lights that were suns bajillions of miles away. It wasn’t just awe at the sparkly stars. It was the realization that people had stared up at this same sky for thousands of years, charting the stars and seeing the figures of animals and archers and drinking gourds there. Stargazing was a timeless occupation, and she was just one of countless people who had looked to the sky.

  It made her feel incredibly small but significant, all at the same time.

  This same sky, with its mysteries that Scout believed God had the answers to. It comforted her to think that someone was in the heavens, watching over the world and lending people moments of grace.

  She sure hoped it was true.

  Chapter Nineteen

  It was after ten, and although Essie was beginning to feel like today was the longest day she’d ever lived, she pushed herself to stay awake and socialize with the other folk in the hospital waiting room.

  After suppertime, Amish visitors had begun to stream into the hospital, as was the tradition in their community. Parents came with their children, filling the waiting room and staying late, often until the staff sent them home at night. Amish folk followed instructions, but they’d be back early in the morning, as soon as visi
ting hours started again. Essie had been concerned that Collette Yoder didn’t have much family in the area, but she needn’t have worried. Dat’s brother Lloyd had come with his wife Greta and their two youngest, giggly toddlers who enjoyed playing in the new waiting room, this one upstairs in the orthopedics department, where Collette had been assigned a room.

  Smitty, the man who owned the pretzel company where Collette and Suzie worked, had come with his wife, sister, and three children ranging from nine to fourteen. They’d brought two tubs of pretzels, which were salty and delicious. “Where’s Suzie?” asked Smitty’s fourteen-year-old daughter Christina. The two girls worked together forming pretzels at the factory.

  “Suzie went home with my mem,” Essie told her. “She injured her head, and the doctors want her to rest.”

  “I wanted to see her,” Christina said, looking down at the floor. “We never get to spend time together outside the factory.”

  “Maybe you can come visit her while she’s on the mend,” Essie said. “I’m sure she’d like to see you.” They made plans for Christina to visit the following evening. By then, Essie hoped that Suzie would be feeling better and Harlan would have stopped blaming himself for the accident. His earlier outburst had been understandable, but she had warned him to control his anger for his sister’s sake. “You’re upsetting Suzie, and the doctors say she needs peace and rest right now.”

  Harlan had apologized and tamped down his guilt. A good thing, because he wouldn’t have wanted all these visitors to see him like that.

  Especially not their bishop, Aaron Troyer, who had come to the hospital with two of his daughters. At thirteen and seventeen, the Troyer girls were interested in the social chatter of the others their age. Bishop Troyer had lost his wife Dorcus two years ago from cancer, and Essie sensed that it required extra effort for the Troyer family to visit the hospital where their wife and mother had spent so much time in treatment and surgery. Aaron Troyer sat with the men, imparting words of concern and faith, but the tension was obvious in his tight lips and rapidly blinking eyes.

  A glance at Harlan told Essie he was equally tense, but she understood why. In the past few years, Harlan had become nervous around the bishop. “He seems to visit our family more than most,” he had confided to Essie. “I think he’s watching for me to do something wrong. Or maybe he disapproves of Mem because Dat left her.”

  Marital strife was frowned upon in Amish communities, but Essie didn’t think the bishop would punish Collette for the sins of her husband. “I don’t think he’s out to punish your mem or you,” she had told Harlan. “You’ve always followed the rules. And the bishop has his own problems with Mose.” The bishop’s nineteen-year-old son had truly run wild on his rumspringa, hosting parties that were the talk of Amish teens until Mose hitchhiked away. He’d been gone for months now, and though the unbaptized were free to go, it always left a bit of a taint on the parents who raised them.

  Seeking to save Harlan from a long engagement with the bishop, Essie picked up the basket of sandwiches that Greta had brought from home, and took it over to the men.

  “Who wants a sandwich?” she offered. “There’s peanut butter spread on the left, and this side is cheese and pickles.” She went down the line of men, waiting for each to pick until she got to Harlan. “I think Greta has some more cheese over there,” she told him. “Come.”

  He followed her to the other side of the waiting room, where they took two sandwiches, chatted with Greta, and then took seats together.

  “Denki,” Harlan said quietly before taking a colossal bite.

  “I sensed that you needed a way out.”

  “You have wonderful good instincts, Essie.”

  Harlan finished his sandwich in a few bites, and Essie got up to fetch more. “You need to keep your strength up,” she said, handing him two more sandwiches.

  “What would I do without you?” His amber eyes warmed her as they both continued eating. After such a long day, Essie was grateful to have something in her stomach. They were just finishing when a woman in a white coat, with short blond hair that seemed fine as duck fluff and black-framed glasses, called out Harlan’s name. He rose, and Essie went to the edge of the room with him to meet Dr. Teddy Kiddle.

  “All these folks are your family?” Dr. Kiddle gestured to the Amish folk, who now completely dominated the waiting room, but for one English couple who had been leaning on each other to rest.

  “Family and community,” Harlan said. “How’s my mother doing?”

  “You can see her now.” Dr. Kiddle gestured for them to follow her down the hallway, where they passed a few open doors, an empty bed on wheels, and a cart with clipboards hanging from the side.

  “Your mom has a fractured femur, that’s the thigh bone, in the upper leg.” Dr. Kiddle spoke in a casual manner as they walked. “We thought she also had a fractured pelvis, but fortunately that injury is less severe. A contusion. We’ve medicated her to reduce her pain, so Mom is too drowsy to discuss treatment tonight, but I can tell you that we think surgery is our best chance to correct the fracture. After that, she’ll need in-patient rehab for at least five days. We can start it here, but you’ll probably want to move her to another facility after we’ve cleared her for infection.” She turned toward them, her eyes earnest behind the wide-frame glasses. “An extended hospital stay will be quite costly, and I know you don’t have insurance.”

  This was the first time Essie had heard anyone mention the costs of Collette’s care here at the hospital. Money would be needed to pay for the doctors and medical care.

  Money that Harlan’s family didn’t have.

  “I’m confident that your mother can get excellent medical care at a rehab facility,” Dr. Kiddle went on. “We’ll give you some referrals, and you can get prices from the facilities. But please, don’t skimp on rehab. Depending on the outcome of the surgery, she may need to learn how to walk again. Physical therapy will help her build up the muscles around the fracture and increase her range of motion. It could mean the difference between walking and needing assistance the rest of her life.”

  “I’ll make sure she gets what she needs,” Harlan vowed. “Surgery and physical therapy. We’ll find a way to pay for it all.”

  “Keep in mind, it’s going to be a long road to recovery for her. We’re talking at least eight weeks of physical therapy. More if she needs it. And she’ll need full-time care for a while. Is there anyone at home—a grandparent or a teen who could be with her twenty-four seven?”

  “My sister and I both work,” Harlan said. “But Suzie can take off from her job or . . . we’ll hire someone.”

  “Folks from the community will pitch in,” Essie explained. “We’ll take care of her.”

  “Good. That’s what she’s going to need.” Dr. Kiddle covered a few other details, talking so quickly that Essie had trouble keeping up. At last, Dr. Kiddle paused in front of a closed door. “You can go in, but she’s probably still groggy. I’m going to check and see if some of her lab results came back.”

  Harlan thanked the doctor, set his jaw, and then opened the door.

  Following Harlan into the room, Essie forced a smile, determined not to be put off by the blinking and beeping machines in the hospital room. Such strange things had frightened her as a girl when her dawdi had been in the hospital, but now she knew that the machines were there to help doctors and nurses treat the patient.

  Underneath the headboard of screens with squiggles and flashing lights, Collette Yoder lay in bed, her eyes closed as if she were having an afternoon nap. Her white, heart-shaped kapp had been removed, but her dark hair was still pulled back into a twist. Essie had expected to see Collette’s leg in a big white cast; instead it lay atop the sheet, strapped into a plastic tray that resembled a snow sled.

  “Mem?” Harlan rubbed the back of her hand. “It’s Harlan. I’m here with Essie. Can you wake up?”

  Collette’s eyelids drifted up, and her face turned toward her son. “Oh, Harla
n, I’ve been waiting for you. It’s time to go.”

  Harlan looked at Essie, who shrugged. “Must be the medication,” she said quietly.

  “How are you feeling, Mem?” Harlan asked. “I’m sorry you have to go through this pain.”

  “I can’t stay here any longer,” she said. “Now help me pack up so we can go.”

  “We can’t go home, Mem. The doctors say you need to stay here at least for a few days. You need to have surgery on your leg to help you heal.”

  “I do? I don’t have the time for that now, do I?” She drew in a breath and tried to pull herself up in bed, but the movement produced a gasp of pain. “My leg. How am I going to pack up the apartment when it hurts to move? We’ll never make it to Ohio.”

  “Ohio?” Essie said softly. “Why do you want to go there, Collette?”

  “My brothers . . . they’ll take care of me.”

  Just then the door opened. “How’s it going?” Dr. Kiddle asked. “How’s your pain, Collette? On a scale of one to ten?”

  Collette squinted at the doctor, not recognizing her.

  “Can you show me on this chart?” The doctor pulled out a plastic-coated card from a pocket on the wall. It showed various cartoon faces, their expressions ranging from a frantic face at ten, to a happy face at the number one.

  Collette stared at the chart. “Is that supposed to be me?”

  “Can you point to which one describes your pain?”

  “Just leave me be.” Collette turned away and closed her eyes.

  “Mem, the doctor is trying to help you.”

  Essie patted the back of Collette’s hand, trying to encourage her, but she didn’t respond.

  “She hasn’t been making sense,” Harlan told Dr. Kiddle. “This is not like her.”

  “Sometimes trauma makes people irrational for a period of time after the incident. But more likely it’s the pain meds,” the doctor said. “I’ll make sure the dosage is correct, but since she’s in bed and on monitors, I’d rather have her well medicated to control her pain. That’s the best we can do for her until the surgery.” The doctor opened the door and motioned them out. “And you two probably need a good night’s sleep.”