A Simple Spring: A Seasons of Lancaster Novel Page 3

  “I can’t talk now. I’m on the road, driving to work. But we’re on for practice tonight, right?”

  She smiled, imagining the beautiful sounds that would fill Red’s garage that night. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  “You just hurry and hustle yourself to work. I’ve got a new song for you. Can’t wait to hear you sing it.”

  “Okay,” she said, smiling at the bushes. Her heart felt full as she closed her cell phone and turned back toward the parking lot.

  “Sadie?” Someone was calling her.

  She moved toward the voice, and found Mrs. Trueherz coming around the house. The young man beside her seemed familiar. He was tall, maybe six feet, with a broad mouth that wanted to smile and eyes as blue as a summer sky.

  “Oh, there you are,” said the older woman. “I thought you escaped.”

  “I was just getting some fresh air.”

  “It is beautiful out here. Not a cloud in the sky.” The woman reached up and clapped a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “This is Mike. He’s our son, and he’s helping out with some of the bookkeeping.”

  Sadie’s eyes went wide as her gaze combed the towering young man. Surely her tongue would twist in knots to talk to such an attractive man.

  “Oh, don’t worry, sweetie, he doesn’t bite,” Celeste added, sensing Sadie’s hesitation. “And don’t let the baby face fool you. He’s twenty-two. And very responsible. Two years in the Peace Corps.”

  “Mom, please,” Mike interrupted, tucking his clipboard under one arm. “You don’t have to give her the whole family history.”

  Sadie felt a flicker of recognition. “You work with the fire department, ya?”

  “The Fire and Rescue Squad. I’m a volunteer.”

  She nodded. He had been one of the medical attendants who had cared for Remy when she had gotten sick at the marketplace.

  “Mike is training to be a doctor … down the road,” Celeste explained. “Someday he’ll take over his father’s practice here. But for now, he goes to the community college and helps out with paperwork.”

  “Which is a long way of asking, do you mind if I go over some of these forms with you?” Mike asked.

  The shyness Sadie usually felt around Englisher men melted away under Mike’s smile. There was honesty in his eyes, and her mamm had always said that eyes were the mirror of the soul. “Sure,” she said, surprising herself. “I can talk with you.”

  Celeste Trueherz went back inside and Mike turned to the picnic table. “Do you mind if we talk out here? I’ve got a touch of spring fever.”

  “I do love springtime,” she said, sinking onto the sun-warmed wood of the picnic bench. “It makes me smile to see everything around me come back to life.”

  “Then I guess you’ve got a lot to smile about this time of year.” He sat right across from her, face-to-face. So very close.

  Looking up at him shyly, she realized that Mike Trueherz was as beautiful as any spring flower she’d ever seen. Those blue eyes reminded her of summer afternoons spent staring into the sky with her sisters. And when he smiled, his teeth were white as snow. His sandy brown hair wasn’t long like an Amish boy’s, but it was combed across the top of his head, short and natural. Not like Frank’s verhuddelt spikes that shot straight up.

  “Since Susie is a minor, we need consent to treat her. That’s what this form is about.” He showed her where to sign. She wrote her name, and he flipped to another page. “Okay. This is a family tree your parents put together with my father.” He slid the clipboard around so that she could see the paper.

  At the top were her parents, Esther and Levi King. And dropping down from their names were thirteen boxes, one for each child.

  “Thirteen? But we only have eleven,” she said.

  Mike pointed to two of the boxes. “These two were children who died soon after birth … David and Deborah.”

  “Oh, ya, that’s right. I forgot about them.”

  “Which is understandable, since you weren’t even born when they passed. That all happened before my dad was working here in Lancaster County. But from your parents’ descriptions of their symptoms, there’s a good chance they suffered from glutaric aciduria, as well.”

  Her fingers worried a pin on her apron. “Mamm loved those babies. She said she could never understand why Gott had to take them so young, but she knew they were happy with Him in heaven.”

  “It must have been a heartbreak.” When she met his gaze this time, some of the glitter had faded from his eyes. Instead, she saw sympathy. True understanding.

  “Do you have a question about this family tree?” she asked.

  “I do. We noticed that a few of you are of age to start families of your own. Adam, Jonah, and Mary, in particular. Have any of them married or had kids?”

  “Not yet. But I think we’ll be seeing some changes, come wedding season.”

  “Got your celery planted?” he asked with a grin.

  She laughed softly. An abundance of celery in an Amish family’s garden was said to be a sign of an upcoming wedding, because much celery was needed for the wedding dinner. “So you know about the Amish custom?”

  He nodded. “You don’t grow up in Lancaster County without learning a thing or two about the Amish community.”

  “But why do you care if someone marries?” she asked.

  “It’s really a concern about when you or your siblings have children of your own. We want to make sure everyone in your family is educated about glutaric aciduria type I. When you have a baby, it should be tested when it’s born.” He squinted at her, then looked down at the table. “Am I making sense? The thing is, this disorder can be passed down through the genes.”

  Jeans? She glanced down and saw that one leg of her jeans had come unrolled. “Oops.” She shifted her legs, trying to cover up the denim with her dress.

  Mike glanced down at her legs, then straightened. “Not that kind of jeans. We’re talking genetics here. When you have babies of your own, if your husband has the same disease in his family, you could pass it on to your children.”

  She felt her cheeks grow warm. To be talking with this Englisher about having babies … this was not something she was ready for. She dropped her eyes to the ground and noticed his leather moccasins, so different from the fancy sneakers English boys favored, or the functional boots worn by Amish on the farm. What kind of a boy wore moccasins? Mike Trueherz was certainly different.

  “Not to scare you or any of your siblings,” he said. “This disorder is treatable if we find the baby who’s at risk in the first few days after birth.”

  “That was when your dat came to us,” she said, remembering. “Your father made a house call to our farm shortly after the twins—Susie and Leah—were born.”

  Mike nodded. “Dad calls them barn calls. We had just moved here that year.”

  “And Susie needed his help. She was sick already.” Sadie pressed her palms flat onto the warm wood of the table. “Your father saved our Susie’s life.”

  “By the grace of God.”

  She glanced over at the parking lot where one car and two buggies sat. The hitching rail was under a tall overhang so that the horses had shade in the hot weather. “Your father treats many Plain folk, ya?”

  “He does. Before he came along, very little attention was given to diseases that struck the Amish community. Glutaric aciduria. Bartter syndrome. Maple syrup urine disease.”

  “Your dat knows about all the things that strike Plain folk.”

  “Research was his first passion. He started by treating people with GA when Amish patients came into Philadelphia, but often it was too late. That’s why Dad moved our family out here. He wanted to help Amish kids before their health issues got out of control.”

  “And he is here, helping people every day. I think your father is a wonderful good man.”

  “He is. His work is everything to him.” His voice had changed, as if he suddenly had a heavy heart.

  Sadie didn’t know
what was wrong, but she had so enjoyed talking with Mike. She wanted to spend a little more time with him. “So you moved to Paradise about fourteen years ago? Do you live in this house?” She nodded toward the office.

  “We did, when we first moved here.” He looked up at the rooftop of the small house. “That was a tough move. I was eight years old and I had a ton of friends back in Philly. Not to mention baseball and basketball teams. I was not happy to be here in farm country. And I still love the city. Visiting Philadelphia is great. I’ll be going to school there in the fall, transferring to Temple.” He sighed. “I can’t wait.”

  “I’ll tell you a secret.” Sadie leaned closer across the table. “I love the city, too. I have an Englisher friend who drives me into Philly.”

  “No way.” He cocked his head, as if seeing her from a different angle. “So what do you do in town?”

  “Have you ever heard of Mad River?”

  He rubbed his jaw, thinking. “Can’t say that I have.”

  “It’s a club. My band performed there last Saturday at open mike night, and the manager wants us to come back. I’m the lead singer.”

  “Really? You have an Amish band?”

  A little laugh escaped Sadie’s throat, and she put a hand to her mouth. “The band is Englisher, except for me. But I don’t dress Amish when I perform, except for my kapp. You should come see us sometime.”

  With a dramatic flourish, Mike smacked his forehead. “What’s an Amish girl like you doing in a club in the city?”

  Sadie laughed again. “It’s my rumspringa, of course.” She knew that was a weak excuse. In her congregation, rumspringa was intended as a time to find an Amish mate. No one ever intended young people to go wild, though sometimes it happened.

  “Of course,” Mike said. “Some kids get cell phones, and I’ve seen guys trick out their buggies. But to be singing in a club?” He gaped, his arms spread wide. “How did you learn the songs? Or are you performing songs from the Ausbund?”

  This time they both laughed. And Sadie pressed a hand to her mouth until it all subsided.

  “Oh, Mike …” She wiped tears from her eyes. “You are so funny. But you can’t tell anyone in Halfway. Or Paradise.”

  “I’ll keep it all on the down-low, songbird.”

  Songbird. The word reminded Sadie of her father. Dat had loved the song of birds on a spring morning.

  Mike put his hand over his heart. “Your secret’s safe with me. But really, how do you learn the songs?”

  “My friend Frank gave me an iPod. He puts songs he wants me to learn on it. Then I make him add some others that I love. I just learn the singing part from listening. That’s not so hard.”

  “And what kind of music do you do?” Mike seemed genuinely interested.

  “Blues and pop. That’s what Frank calls it.”

  “Ho!” came a shout from the parking lot.

  Sadie and Mike both turned just in time to see a buggy enter, swinging wildly as it turned. The driver, an Amish man in a green shirt, dark pants, and suspenders, had his hat on at an odd angle. He managed the reins with one hand, while he bent gingerly over the other hand, bandaged in his lap.

  Instantly, Mike was on his feet. “Excuse me,” he said, then took off running toward the injured Amish man.

  Sadie hurried alongside him, waiting as Mike spoke quickly to the man and helped him down to the ground.

  “Easy, now,” Mike said to the man, who was ghostly pale and slick with sweat.

  Sadie winced when she saw that the white rag covering his hand was soaked in blood. “What happened?” Mike asked.

  Speaking in Pennsylvania Dutch, he said there was an accident with a saw. His hand got mangled.

  “His name is Jacob Esher,” she said, quickly translating for Mike, who supported the man by his good arm.

  “Do you speak English?” Mike spoke firmly. “You need to hold this hand as high as you can to slow the bleeding.”

  “Ya, ya.” Jacob raised his hand. “I speak English. I just got confused a moment.”

  “You’re probably in shock,” Mike said. “And you drove yourself here?”

  Jacob explained how busy the farm was, with planting season here.

  “Let’s get you in to see the doctor.” Mike was already leading the man into the building.

  “I’ll tie up the horse,” she called after them.

  “Ya. Gut,” the injured man said.

  Sadie secured the horse to the hitching post, then hurried inside to see if she could help with anything else.

  The waiting room was abuzz, with the three other patients looking on in a mixture of curiosity and alarm. Mike was wrapping gauze around the wounded hand and holding it up above Jacob’s head.

  Celeste Trueherz came out from behind the counter. Her joking demeanor had given way to genuine concern and authority. “We’re not really set up for emergency care,” she told the man as she tapped two pills into a little cup. “The doctor might send you to the hospital.”

  “But I don’t have money for the hospital,” Jacob said, speaking English now. “And Doc Trueherz sewed up my friend Caleb’s hand last year. Good as new.”

  “We’ll see what the doctor has to say.” Mrs. Trueherz handed him the pill cup, along with some water. “I’m giving you Tylenol to help with the pain.”

  He nodded and tossed back the cup of pills with his free hand.

  Sadie had been so captivated watching that she didn’t see her sister emerge from the hall.

  “Dr. Trueherz says we’ll have to wait if you want to meet with him because he has …” Susie’s eyes went wide as she noticed the man with the bloody hand. “… an emergency.”

  “Let’s get Jacob into exam room one,” Celeste said, and Susie stepped closer to her sister as Mike helped the man to his feet and guided him down the hall.

  “That poor man.” Susie pressed a hand to her chest. “My heart is flapping like a butterfly.”

  “Excitement like that I could do without.” Celeste returned to her chair at the counter.

  “Will he be all right?” Sadie asked.

  “We’ll make sure he gets the care he needs.” There was kindness in the older woman’s voice. “I know it’s frightening to see that much blood, but the doctor can handle it.” She pulled a pencil from the cup on the desk. “Do you girls want to wait, or are you heading out?”

  “I must get to work,” Sadie said. Though she hated to leave without saying good-bye to Mike Trueherz.

  Susie touched her arm gently. “We can go. My checkup went wonderful good. Dr. Trueherz says things are under control. My diet is working, and he likes the pink in my cheeks.”

  “That’s good news.” Sadie was warmed by her sister’s positive attitude. Susie always saw the sunny side of things. As they made the appointment for Susie’s next checkup, she realized Mike would no longer be helping out here the next time Susie came. By November he would be through with community college and living in Philadelphia.

  As the girls stepped outside to call Nancy, Sadie thought what a strange day it had been.

  She had made a new friend, but somehow she had lost him already. A friend found and lost in a single morning.

  THREE

  Mike Trueherz always felt his stomach wrench at the sight of blood. He wished that he could slip out the back door and go for a run, or see a movie, or shoot some hoops with friends. He wished that the part-time job with his father involved mowing someone’s lawn or preparing someone’s taxes. Even taxes would be better than this—trying to repair a man’s dismembered fingers.

  “My son tells me you brought the fingers in a jar,” his father said to the patient, whose mangled fingers were soaking in Dreft baby detergent to clean out the wound. “Do you want them reattached?”

  “Can you do that?” Jacob’s face brightened.

  “I can’t do it here.” Mike’s dad adjusted his spectacles, though his blue eyes never left Jacob. “But you have a chance if I send you over to the hospital. They hav
e a lot of success with surgeries like that.”

  Go to the hospital, man, Mike thought. Save your fingers.

  Jacob shook his head. “I can’t go to the hospital. I don’t have money to pay for a fancy hospital bill. Can’t you just sew them up here?”

  “I don’t have the technology and know-how to reattach.” The doctor took Jacob’s wrist and lifted his fingers from the soap they were soaking in. “The bones in these two digits were crushed on the end. If I sew them up, I’ll have to cut them back to the knuckle. That’s the best I can do.”

  Mike’s head kept ping-ponging back and forth between his father and Jacob, hoping that the patient would come to his senses and get a ride to the hospital.

  “But you can sew them up and get me out of here?” the patient asked.

  “I can. But I’ll have to trim the bone back, and you need to realize that I can’t replace what’s lost. You’ll never have nails on those two fingers again.”

  “So two less nails to trim,” Jacob said. “Do it, Doc.”

  “As long as you’re sure. Will you be able to manage your work with a few less digits?”

  “I reckon. Since the Good Lord decided to take away a few of my fingers, I don’t have a choice. I’ll get by.”

  Gently, Henry Trueherz lowered the hand back into the soap. “You just keep soaking. I’ll get my tools and some medicine to numb your hand. You won’t feel anything during the procedure.” He looked up at his son. “Is Amy still working with Nella Mae?”

  Mike looked to the door, wishing he could flee. “I think so.”

  His father rubbed his jaw. “I’ll need her help with this procedure.”

  Thank you, Lord! Mike had no desire to assist with a case like this, and in fact he wasn’t a licensed nurse like Amy Owen. With any luck Amy would take his place in this room and he could go chat with a patient or wipe down an exam room.

  “I’ll go find Amy,” the doc said. “But in the meantime, you can get the surgical supplies ready. I’ll need forceps, bone snips, and a suture driver. Oh, and don’t forget a stack of gauze.”