John had left to find them coffee and a snack, but Ida and Caleb both stood when the doctor walked into the room.
“Thank you all for your patience.” She motioned for them to sit back down. “I know the barrage of tests we put a patient through can be trying, but trust me when I say that it’s important for us to collect as much information as we can.”
She turned toward Rachel.
“Hi, Rachel. Do you remember me?”
“Ya. You’re Dr. Gold.”
“Great. Can you tell me what day it is?”
Her eyes darted to the whiteboard that listed the name of her nurse and orderly. “December third.”
“Very good.” Dr. Gold laughed. “We know you can read.”
The doctor placed her tablet on the table next to Rachel’s bed. “Mind if I check that bump on your head one more time?”
Rachel leaned forward and jerked only slightly when the doctor gently probed the back of her head.
“Still tender.”
“Ya.”
“Still no memory of what happened before Caleb found you?”
“Nein.”
“And you can’t remember how you got this bump?”
“The first thing I remember is...is Caleb carrying me to his house.”
The doctor plumped the pillows behind her, waited until Rachel had sat back and then shone the penlight in her eyes again.
“I’m sorry. I know this is uncomfortable.”
“It’s just the headache...”
Dr. Gold nodded in sympathy and then clicked off the light. “Rachel, you have a slight concussion, which is why you’re experiencing a sensitivity to light, a blinding headache and nausea.”
She remembered vomiting in Ida’s sink and grimaced.
“How long will that last?”
“In most cases, symptoms improve in seven to ten days.”
“That’s gut.”
“But the actual healing of your brain could take months.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Most often a concussion occurs when you’ve sustained a blow to the head. In this case, you have a sizable knot at the back of your head and toward the top. Can you remember anything at all that led up to your accident?”
Rachel shook her head and spikes of pain brought tears to her eyes.
“I’m not surprised. You have what we call retrograde amnesia caused by a concussion. Often in such a situation, patients have problems remembering events leading up to an accident.”
“I still don’t understand.”
“Retrograde amnesia or a concussion?”
“Both.”
Dr. Gold smiled and patted her hand. “Concussions happen all too often. The brain itself is rather like Jell-O. When a concussion occurs, your brain slides back and forth and bumps up against the walls of your skull. Basically the brain is bruised, and like all bruises it takes time to heal.”
“What would cause such a thing?” Caleb asked. His expression had turned rather fierce. “Does it mean that someone hit her?”
“Not necessarily.” Dr. Gold cocked her head, studying both Ida and Caleb for a few seconds. Then she turned her attention back to Rachel. “You could have been in a car accident, or fallen off a bicycle or simply tripped, and hit your head against the ground.”
“And that would cause a concussion?” Ida asked. “Just falling?”
Caleb sank back into the chair and leaned forward, elbows on his knees, fingers interlaced. “Did it happen when she fell in the snow?”
“Not likely,” Dr. Gold said. “I suspect that Rachel sustained her injury before you ever saw her. It’s why she was meandering back and forth across the road. Concussions often result in vertigo.”
“Can you tell how long it’s been?” Ida asked.
“I can’t. There was no bleeding from the wound, so I rather doubt that someone hit her. More likely it was a simple accident.”
“What about my memory?” Rachel asked. “When will it return?”
“Memories are tricky things. You remembered my name, and you know who these people are. Correct?”
“Caleb.” She met his gaze, remembered again being in his arms. “And Ida, his mamm.”
“Which is a good sign. This tells us your brain is still working the way it should.”
“But I wouldn’t have remembered my name if it hadn’t been written in that book, and I still don’t know where I live or who I am.”
“In most cases those memories will return in time.”
“How much time?”
“Remember what I said earlier? You don’t just have a concussion. You also have retrograde amnesia.”
“And what does that mean?”
“That it may be a few days or weeks or even months before you regain your memories.”
Rachel felt as if she was falling into a long, dark tunnel. She stared down at the cotton blanket covering her and grasped it between both of her hands. “That long?”
“I’m afraid so, but the good news is that your memory is working now, and it will continue to work. You may not be able to remember what happened before the accident, but you can create new memories. Plus you’re healthy in every other way.”
“But what am I to do? Where will I live?”
“If you’d like, we have a social worker here at the hospital that can meet with you and find temporary housing for you. We’ll also put you in contact with a liaison with the Daviess County Sheriff’s Office. Perhaps your family has reported you missing. It could be that they’re looking for you even now.”
“What do I do until they find me?”
“Be patient. Give your brain time to heal. Live your life.”
“I don’t have any money, though.”
“There are charities that provide funds for those in need. You don’t need to worry about money right now.”
“She doesn’t need to worry about where to live, either.” Ida stood and moved to the side of the bed. She was about Rachel’s height but looked a bit shorter, owing to her weight. She wasn’t big exactly, but rounded, like a grandmother should be. She was probably close to fifty with gray and brown strands of hair peeking out from under her prayer kapp. “Rachel, we would be happy to have you stay with us. We have an extra room. It’s only Caleb and John and myself, so it’s a fairly quiet environment. You can rest and heal.”
Rachel didn’t know if that was a good idea. Ida and John seemed like a nice couple, and Caleb had saved her, but she wasn’t sure they wanted a brain-injured person living with them. Then again, what choice did she have?
She didn’t want to go to a police station.
She didn’t want to wait on a social worker.
“Stay with us,” Ida repeated.
“Ya.” Rachel nodded, wiping away the tears that had begun to slide down her cheeks. “Okay. Danki.”
Dr. Gold was pleased with the arrangement, and Ida was grinning as if Christmas had come early, but when Rachel glanced at Caleb, she wasn’t sure if she saw relief or regret in his eyes.
Chapter Two
They returned to Ida and John’s house. The snow had stopped, but it sat in heaps on the side of the road. The clouds had cleared, the sun was shining and Rachel suspected the snow would melt completely by the next day. The Englisch homes they passed already had Christmas decorations out on the lawn. Rachel wasn’t sure what Amish homes did to celebrate for the season. She wasn’t sure what her family had done in the past.
The rest of the day passed in a blur.
She met with the local bishop, Amos Hilty, a kind, elderly man as round as he was tall with tufts of white hair that reminded her of a cotton ball.
She learned that the local community was a blend of Swiss Amish and Pennsylvania Dutch Amish, but she couldn’t tell them which she had been. From the styl
e and color of her dress, they guessed that she came from one of the more progressive districts. Amos assured her that he’d contact the local districts to see if anyone had reported a young woman missing.
“We’ll find your family, Rachel. Try not to worry. Trust that Gotte has a plan and a purpose for your life.”
She wasn’t sure how Gotte could use her accident, her loss of memory, for His good, but she smiled and thanked the bishop for helping her.
Several times that afternoon she had to excuse herself and lie down because of the vertigo and nausea, and bone-deep exhaustion. Ida’s cooking smelled wonderful—it was a meat loaf she’d thrown together and served with mashed potatoes, canned squash, gravy and fresh bread. Rachel thought she could eat three plates, but when she’d taken her first bite, the nausea had returned, and she’d fled to the bathroom.
Now it was ten thirty in the evening and everyone was asleep, but she was starving. Pulling on the robe Ida had loaned her, she padded down the hall to the kitchen. She pulled a pitcher of milk from the icebox and found a tin of cookies when Caleb walked in.
“If you’d eaten your dinner, you wouldn’t be so hungry late at night.” When she didn’t answer and just stood there frozen, as if she’d been caught stealing, he’d walked closer, bumped his shoulder against hers and said, “I’m kidding. Pour me a glass?”
So she did, and they sat down at the table together. She could just make out his outline from the light of the full moon slanting through the window. Oddly, the darkness comforted her, knowing he couldn’t see her well, either. She felt less exposed, less vulnerable.
“I can’t remember if I thanked you...for finding me in the snow. For bringing me here.”
“You didn’t.”
“Danki.”
“Gem Gschehne.”
The words slipped effortlessly between them and brought her a small measure of comfort. At least she remembered how to be polite. Surely that was something.
“You owe me, you know.”
Her head snapped up, and she peered at him through the darkness.
“You scared at least a year off my life when I saw you out there.”
“Lucky for me you did.”
“I’m not sure luck had anything to do with it. Gotte was watching over you, for sure and certain.”
“If He was watching over me, why did this happen? Why can’t I remember anything? What am I supposed to do next?”
“I’m not going to pretend I have the answers to any of those questions.”
“Might be a good time to lie to me and say you do.”
Caleb’s laugh was soft and low and genuine. “We both would regret that later.”
“I suppose.” She sipped the cold milk. At least her stomach didn’t reject it. Maybe she would feel better if she could keep some food down. She hesitantly reached for an oatmeal cranberry cookie.
“Your mamm’s a gut cook.”
“Ya, she is.”
“So it’s just you? You’re an only child?”
“Ya, though my mamm wanted to have more children.”
“Why didn’t she?”
“Something went wrong when she had me, and the doctors said she wouldn’t be able to conceive again.”
“Gotte’s wille.”
“She always wanted a girl, too, so I suppose you’re an answer to that prayer, even if you’re a temporary answer.”
“When you marry, she’ll have a daughter-in-law.”
“So they keep reminding me.” He laughed again, but there was something sad and bitter at the same time in it. His next words had a serious, let’s-get-down-to-business tone. “How are you feeling? I know you keep telling my parents that you’re fine, but it’s obvious you aren’t.”
“Lost. Confused. Sick to my stomach.”
“Food should help settle your stomach.”
She bit into the cookie, which was delicious but could use a little nutmeg. “I just remembered something.”
“You did?”
“Cookies need nutmeg.”
Caleb reached for another. “It’s a beginning.”
“Not much of one.”
“The doctor told you this could take a while.”
“I know...but can you imagine what it’s like for me? I don’t know who I am.”
“You know your name is Rachel.”
“Only because you found my book.”
“Not many Amish girls read Robert Frost. That narrows the prospective field of candidates down a little.”
“Perhaps we could advertise somewhere...”
“The Budget.” Caleb nodded and ran a thumb under his suspenders. “Actually that’s not a bad idea. If you write something up in the morning—”
“What would I write? I don’t remember anything.”
“Okay. Gut point, but perhaps your family will post there. We’ll watch the paper closely.”
“Danki.”
“Gem Gschehne.”
And there it was again—an odd familiarity that bound them together.
“Are you always this nice?”
“Nein. I’m on my best behavior with you because you’ve had a brain injury.”
“Oh, is that so?”
“My normal personality is bullheaded and old-fashioned, which are both apparently bad things. And that’s a direct quote.”
“From?”
“My last girlfriend.”
“Oh. Well, I can’t remember my last boyfriend, so you’re still a step ahead of me.”
Caleb cleared his throat, returned the pitcher of milk to the refrigerator and then sat down across from her again. When he clasped his hands together, she knew she wasn’t going to like what he was about to say. She suddenly felt defensive and bristly, like a cat rubbed the wrong way.
“My parents wanted to give you a few days to adjust, but I think there are some things you should know.”
“There are?”
“Our community is quite conservative—we’re a branch of the Swiss Amish, as Bishop Amos explained.”
“He’s a nice man.”
“As long as you’re staying...well, this is awkward, but...”
“Just spit it out, Caleb.” She’d had this sort of conversation before, though she couldn’t remember the details. Somewhere in her injured brain was the memory of someone else trying to set her straight. Why did people always think they knew what was best for her?
“Our women always keep their heads covered—always.”
“Oh.” Rachel’s hand went to her hair, which was unbraided and not covered. “Even in the house?”
Caleb glanced at her and then away. Finally, he shrugged and said, “Depends, but my point is that for some reason you weren’t wearing a kapp when I found you.”
“Maybe I lost it.”
“And your hair was down—you know, unbraided, like it is now.”
She pulled her hair over her right shoulder, nervously running her fingers through it. “Anything else?”
“Your clothes are all wrong.”
“Excuse me?”
“Wrong color, wrong...pattern or whatever you call it.”
“The color is wrong?”
“We only wear muted colors—no bright greens or blues.”
“Because?”
“Because it draws attention and we’re called to a life of humility and selflessness.”
Rachel jumped up, walked to the sink and rinsed out her cup. When she had her temper under control, or thought she did, she turned back to him. “Any other words of wisdom?”
Caleb was now standing, too, but near the table with his arms crossed in front, as if he was afraid she’d come too close. “Not that I know of...not now...”
“But?”
“Look, Rachel. I’m not being rude or mean. These are thi
ngs I think you’d be better hearing from me than having people say behind your back.”
“Is that what type of community you have? One that talks behind people’s backs?”
“Every community does that, and it’s more from curiosity and boredom than meanness.”
“All right, then, tell me. What else do I need to know? So I won’t incite gossip and all.”
“It’s only that you’re obviously from a more progressive district.”
“Oh, it’s obvious, is it?”
“And so you might want to question your first instinct for things, stop and watch what other people do, be sensitive to offending others.”
“You are kidding me. That’s what you’re worried about?”
“I’m worried about a lot of things.”
“I’ve lost my entire world, everyone I knew, and you’re concerned I’ll offend someone?”
“I’ve hurt your feelings, and I didn’t mean to do that.”
“That’s something, I suppose.”
“But you’ll thank me tomorrow or the next day or a week from now.”
“I’m not so sure about that, Caleb, but there is one thing I do know.” She stepped closer and looked down at her hair, which was still pulled forward and reached well past her waist. When she glanced back up at him, she saw that he was staring at it. She waited for him to raise his eyes to hers.
He swallowed and shifted from one foot to the other. “There was one thing you wanted to say?”
“Ya. Your old girlfriend?”
“Emily?”
“The one who told you that you were stubborn and old-fashioned.”
“That would be Emily.” He reached up and rubbed at the back of his neck. When he did, she smelled the soap he’d used earlier, noticed the muscles in his arm flex. His blond hair flopped forward, and it occurred to her that he was a nice-looking guy—nice-looking but with a terrible attitude and zero people skills.
“Between you and me—she was right. You are stubborn. You are old-fashioned, and you should keep your helpful hints to yourself.”
And with that, she turned and fled down the hall, feeling better than she had since Caleb had rescued her from the snow.
Amish Christmas Memories Page 2
