She shook her head. “Hmm. I don’t know. The rest of the things here are fruits. So peaches maybe? Pears?”
“My luck I’ll open it, hungry for some peach halves, only to find more olives than I can eat in a year. But...then again, it could be the best thing I’ve ever eaten out of a can.” Gabe frowned at the silver container in his hand. “What’s life without some risks? We don’t always know how things will turn out.” He shifted his gaze to Hannah. “Sometimes you have to be brave. Sometimes things might not end like you want, but on the other hand, sometimes they might be even better. Could be missing some of the best deals if you’re afraid to take a chance on the unknown.” His flashlight was lowered, leaving her face in shadow. But her solemn expression revealed she understood Gabe wasn’t talking about the can he tucked into his basket.
They rounded the end of that aisle and looked down the final one. “How are you set for shampoo, soap and such?”
“Pretty good. My patients haven’t complained at least.” He winked at her.
By tacit agreement, they headed toward the checkout. Both carried their baskets on the outside, their inside hands only a short span apart. Gabe flexed his fingers, aware that just a slight extension of them would brush Hannah’s delicate ones.
“Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help with the fundraiser.” Gabe glanced dubiously at the items in his basket. “I wouldn’t be much good at baking, but I’d be more than happy to help with other things. Community awareness, publicity among the Englisch, helping set up a location. You name it. Let me know.” He indicated for her to go ahead of him at the cashier. “I can’t thank you enough for doing this, Hannah.”
She set her basket down on the counter in front of the gray-haired Amish woman manning the old-fashioned cash register. “It’s gut for the community.”
When it was his turn, Gabe pulled some bills from his wallet, glad he had cash on him as the store didn’t take credit. Even seeing some of the prices, he was surprised at how low his bill was.
When he got outside, Hannah was climbing into her buggy. Gabe smiled when, inside the rig, he barely made out Socks peeking out from under a blanket.
“Gabe.” Hannah paused on the buggy step and turned toward him. “It wasn’t only because it was gut for the community.” Before he could answer, the door was closed behind her. But he could see her soft smile through the windshield as she backed Daisy out.
Gabe headed for his truck, his grin big enough to light up the dreary twilight of the abbreviated winter day all by himself.
* * *
In the dim glow of her battery-powered headlamps, Hannah could see Daisy’s ears flick back, alerting her that someone was behind them on the dark road. Glancing in the side-view mirrors, she saw the distant glow of headlights. Directing Daisy closer to the side of the paved country road, she waited for the whoosh of someone rushing by now they had the room. It remained silent except for the quick cadence of the mare’s hooves as no vehicle passed.
For a moment, Hannah’s heart leaped, thinking maybe Gabe was following her home. She craned around to look out the back. The vehicle was closer. Instead of truck lights, these were lower, nearer to the ground. It was a car. Following slowly. Her pounding heart accelerated as she shifted from excitement to trepidation. In hope of prompting the driver to pass, Hannah slowed Daisy to a walk and pulled more to the road’s edge. She slid in her seat as the buggy tipped slightly toward the ditch. The car behind slowed even further.
Socks huddled next to her. Even lazy Daisy was jerking her head, impacted by the tension running down the reins. Hands clenched tightly on the leather, Hannah guided the mare back onto the pavement and urged her to road-speed again.
When they made the final turn to their road, Hannah swung wide, hoping to get a glimpse of the vehicle. When she did, her breath hitched and she slapped the reins on Daisy’s hindquarters, startling the Standardbred into a speed the mare hadn’t used in some time. Hannah recognized the car that was turning onto the road behind them. It was the one that’d scraped onto the sidewalk. The one the man had sprung from. The man who’d focused his eerie attention on Socks. Had he been the one who’d taken her? Was he going to make sure she didn’t get away this time?
Oh, Gabe, I wish you were here.
Dear Gott, please protect Your servant.
Her family’s home and barn, silhouetted by the rising moon, were visible ahead. Their large, dark shapes had never looked so good.
As they charged toward that haven, Hannah began to shake, not with fear, but with anger. She was angry that someone would threaten her dog. She was angry that dogs belonging to others were lost, some only returned to their loving owners because of something called a microchip. What about the dogs that hadn’t been recovered? Whose owners didn’t know where they were?
Hannah gritted her teeth as Daisy pounded down the road. Someone had to do something.
Upon swinging into the lane, she pulled Daisy to a stop and set the brake. With a trembling hand, she rooted in one of the buggy’s many compartments for a flashlight. Finding one, she pushed open the rig’s door. Her knees were so wobbly, she almost fell down the step. Socks jumped down behind her. Hannah urged the dog to go to the house, but the collie stayed by her side. Socks whined, but didn’t bark. Dash was at the top of the lane, barking enough for both of them. Barking enough to rouse the whole neighborhood. Hannah drew strength from his indignant clamor.
She heard the bang of one of the barn doors. Hannah risked a glance in that direction to see a lantern light framed in a doorway in the area where at least some of her family would be milking. It gave her further courage.
Striding a few steps away from the buggy, she looked down the lane to see the car idling on the road at the end of it. Hannah knew it was the man from town, although she couldn’t see him in the dim light. She knew, in her black cloak and bonnet, she stood out in dark relief against the snow of the lane and surrounding farmyard. Socks’s warm weight snugged up against her leg.
“What do you want?” Hannah curled her fingers into the palm of her hand, wanting to force the tremor from her voice. “You’re frightening me. Are you the one who took my dog? The Biewel says Do Not Steal. I don’t know why you are doing these things, but it’s not right.” Something compelled her to continue, “I’m sure you don’t mean to scare people. You need to stop. It’s not right.”
There was no response from the car. No sound except the quiet rumble of the engine. Even to Hannah’s untrained ear, the sound was much smoother than the car’s appearance. After a long moment, through which Hannah could count her heartbeats from the way they throbbed in her ears, the car rolled forward. It began picking up speed as it went down the road. Seconds later, all that was visible were the red taillights in the distance.
Shaking, Hannah sank to her knees and pulled Socks to her. Her legs wouldn’t hold her and she tipped to sit in the middle of the lane. Socks crawled into her lap and licked her face. An instant later, Hannah started at the nudge against the back of her bonnet. Dash joined Socks in nosing at the tears on her face. Tears Hannah hadn’t been aware of shedding.
“Are you all right?” The call wafted down from the direction of the barn. Twisting on her cold seat, Hannah saw the silhouette of a figure come out of one of the doors.
Stiffly, she rose to her feet and dusted off the back of her cloak. “Ja. Ja. I’m gut.” And, oddly enough, she was. She’d faced a fear. She’d protected her dog. Something else had shifted inside of her, but she wasn’t sure yet what it was.
Shuffling over, she patted Daisy’s sweaty hip. She needed to get the mare to the barn. As she climbed back into the buggy, Hannah realized she’d proposed the idea of a fundraiser auction to the community and confronted a threat to her pet today.
If she could do that, what else could she face?
Chapter Ten
At the jangle from the bell above the door
, Hannah looked up from where she was cutting material for project packets. Her ready smile evaporated from her face quickly when she saw who entered. Knowing she should greet the new arrival, Hannah couldn’t make her feet step away from the counter. Since quilting yesterday—and her launch of the fundraising project—she’d known this encounter was possible. Make that probable. She’d been dreading it.
“Bishop Weaver.” Setting down the scissors, Hannah folded her arms across her chest. It was a struggle to form her mouth into a smile. “What can I do for you today?”
The bishop slowly wove his way through the rows of fabric to reach the far side of the wide counter. Hannah furrowed her brow as he approached. Under his flat-brimmed black hat, the bishop’s face was pale and dotted with sweat. Perhaps his obvious agitation was due to an ailment, but it still didn’t bode well for her.
“I understand that you are getting mixed up in Englisch things, Hannah Lapp. You would do better to devote your time to convincing my son that you’d welcome an offer from him.”
Hannah clenched her hands into fists. Her contrived smile slipped into more of a grimace. “I...I do.” Wincing, Hannah recognized the similarity of her words to wedding vows. She would marry Jethro. Even though she cared for another man. Surely Gott knew she would do what she should in action, even if her spirit was reluctant?
“You should make sure he’s aware of that. He says he doesn’t want to marry right now.”
Although relieved to not immediately discuss the auction, Hannah’s heart went out to Jethro. The man was caught in the strong currents of his parents’ demanding wills as much as she was. Lowering her arms, she clasped her hands at her waist. “Perhaps it is a little soon,” she began tentatively. “After such a recent loss of his wife and child.”
“He will marry as his parents wish. As he did before. As you should do.”
Hannah flinched as the bishop slapped his hand down, rattling the nearby scissors on the counter.
“Your duty is to do what is best for the community as I—as Gott wills it.” Now inexplicably panting, the man leaned an elbow against the workbench when he finished his decree. At the spasm that contorted his features, Hannah circled the counter to approach him.
“Bishop Weaver, are you all right?” She gasped when the man grabbed his left shoulder. As he teetered backward, Hannah reached out a hand to guide him toward the chair kept nearby for waiting customers.
The bishop slumped hard into the seat. When he looked up at her, bewilderment and fear were evident in his face. “I don’t think I’m going to make it,” he whispered.
Wide-eyed, Hannah opened her mouth to assure the bishop he would be fine, only to be left gaping when he fell forward from the chair to the floor, her hand curling into his jacket to slow the tumble.
Hannah followed him down until she was on her knees beside the inert man. “Bishop Weaver! Can you hear me?” The bishop’s mouth sagged open, and his eyes were rolled back in his head. He was obviously unconscious.
Unlike when Ruth collapsed, there wasn’t anyone to run for assistance. Barbara had left that morning to visit her adult children living out of state. Hannah knew, as she’d been listening, that Gabe had left earlier in the day and hadn’t returned. She was alone. Springing up like a jack-in-the-box, she frantically looked out the window, hoping someone was passing by on the sidewalk and could be flagged down.
The street outside the shop was empty.
The phone! Heart pounding like a runaway horse, Hannah grabbed for the landline on the counter. She fumbled with the receiver, almost dropping it as she knelt again beside the motionless man. The strident drone of the dial tone was abnormally loud in the silent room. Fingers trembling, she stabbed out 911 on the keypad.
As she waited breathlessly, the three numbers reminded her faintly of another series of three. An alphabet one. What was it? Oh yes! CPR. CAB. The C was for...? Contractions? No! What had Gabe taught her upstairs...? Compressions! That was it! And they needed to start immediately. But before that, she needed to...
Propping the handset against the base of the counter, Hannah jumped when a composed voice came over the line.
“911. Where is your emergency?”
Hannah pressed the speaker button and shifted to ease the limp bishop onto his back. “Ah, The Stitch,” she responded breathlessly. “It’s a shop in Miller’s Creek.”
“Do you have a street number?”
“Ja.” Hannah searched her memory until she was able to recite it for the dispatcher.
“And what is your phone number?”
Hannah froze in her actions of unfastening the bishop’s coat and tugging it back toward his shoulders. She rarely called the shop. Staring at the handset, she noticed the number taped to the inside and rattled it off.
“What is your emergency?”
“The bishop is unwell. He grabbed his shoulder and fell out of the chair.”
“Is he conscious?”
“Nee, I mean no.”
“Is he breathing?”
There was no discernable movement in the chest underneath her fingers. “I don’t think so,” she whispered.
“Stay on the line,” directed the calm voice. “I’m going to get an ambulance on the way.”
While the phone line was quiet—it seemed forever to Hannah but was probably only a few seconds—she tentatively started compressions. She froze after two. It was so different than working on the mannequin upstairs. Drawing in a steadying breath, she began again. After a few motions, Hannah recalled the rhythm of it. But how she missed Gabe’s presence beside her and calm tutelage.
The voice came back on the line. “Does the patient have a cardiac history?”
“I don’t know,” Hannah responded, huffing lightly with the surprising exertion required in giving compressions. The dispatcher asked other questions that Hannah had no answer to. She wanted to weep at her ignorance, but had no time for it.
“You’re doing fine,” the woman advised her. “I can hear you. Do I understand you’re doing compressions?”
“Ja. But I’m not sure I’m doing them right.”
“That’s okay. You’re doing a great job. We’ll talk you through it.” As the dispatcher talked her through the process, Hannah made adjustments where needed. The woman counted with her, helping her keep her in rhythm. It wasn’t long before Hannah was panting in time with the compressions. Her heavier breathing must’ve been audible over the phone.
“You’re doing great. Help will be there very soon. Is there anyone else nearby who knows how to do CPR?”
“Nee, there’s no one here but me.” Hearing the growing whimper in her voice, Hannah cleared her throat and struggled to regain composure.
“He’s fortunate you’re there to help him. Any change in his condition?”
Hannah studied the slack face below hers. Were his lips slightly blue? Or had they already been that way before she started compressions and were now better? Was a little color returning to his face? Her arms were growing tired. Biting her lip, Hannah prayed for reserves of strength. Reserves she drew upon as a young woman who’d done physical labor throughout her life. Please, Gott, help him. Please help me help him.
Over her ragged breathing and the encouragement of the dispatcher, Hannah thought she heard the bang of the shop’s alley door. Had she just imagined it? Or wished it? She had no time to wonder when Gabe burst through the door into the store. “Hannah!”
Never faltering in her rhythm, Hannah erupted into tears.
“Ma’am,” the dispatcher’s voice was sharp and insistent. “Are you all right?”
“Ja! Ja!” Weeping with relief, Hannah hastened to assure the dispatcher. “Help has arrived!”
Dropping to his knees, Gabe slid into place on the other side of the bishop. “This is Gabe Bartel, Miller’s Creek EMS. I’m taking over CPR.” Jerking a device from h
is key chain, he quickly used it to cover the bishop’s mouth. With a motion to Hannah to pause, he gave the man two breaths.
“Copy. ETA for ambulance is 8 minutes. Dispatch is disconnecting.”
“Copy.”
Hannah sagged back against the base of the counter, and Gabe shifted over the bishop, taking over compressions. Hugging her weary arms, Hannah tried to ward off the trembling that instantly besieged her. She watched through tear-blurred eyes as Gabe kept up a decisive rotation of compressions and breaths.
“How long was he out before you started compressions?”
“A minute or two? It all happened so fast. It took a moment to remember what you told me. I’m sorry. It happened so fast...” Hannah knew she was babbling. In a moment, she’d be crying again, as well. She was just so glad to see him. So glad to have help. She’d been so scared.
“You did great.” Gabe met her eyes. There was no mistaking the intent sincerity in their green depths. “I’m so proud of you. If he makes it, and we’re going to do everything we can to make that happen, it’s because of you.”
Sniffing back tears in response to his encouraging smile, Hannah straightened from where she’d slumped against the counter. “What can I do to help?”
Gabe winked at her. “Atta girl. The ambulance should be here soon. Could you go outside and flag them down? Every moment helps.”
“Of course.” Pushing to her feet, Hannah wobbled, wincing at the tingling in her lower limbs, the result of long tense minutes in a cramped position.
Concern instantly covered Gabe’s features. “You okay?”
She couldn’t stop herself from reaching out to touch him as she hustled past to the door. “Ja. I am so much more than okay now that you’re here.” Jerking open the shop door, she dashed onto the sidewalk, sliding a bit on the slick, snow-swept surface. When the winter breeze ruffled the damp hair in front of her kapp, Hannah realized she’d been sweating. Lifting her hand to her prayer covering, she found it askew. Releasing a few deep breaths through pursed lips, the everyday task of repinning her kapp helped steady her.
Her Forbidden Amish Love Page 11
