by Linda Byler
“You were sleeping,” Emma defended herself.
“No. I was not. I just had my eyes closed to rest them for a while. Why would you try to snatch the remote?”
She glared at Emma like an outraged little bird.
“It was really loud in here.”
“You didn’t need to be in here while I was sleeping.”
“Okay. Sorry.”
“You should be. Now get on with whatever you were doing while I finish my nap.”
“The vacuum isn’t working right. Could we take it somewhere to be fixed, or have someone come look at it?”
“Oh, just let me look at it. You’re likely not doing something right.”
She heaved herself from the chair, before she slid back into it. She lowered her head and ran her hand across her eyebrows, but said nothing, merely grabbed the arms of the chair and tried again. Emma put a hand beneath her elbow to stabilize her.
Anna tottered across the room, her feet dragging on the thick carpet, stopped to survey the top of a dresser, ran a hand lightly along its surface.
“You make my furniture look like new,” she said, as if to herself. “This dresser came from a used furniture place when we lived in Queens. We paid two dollars and fifty cents for it.”
She moved on, then bent over the vacuum cleaner, pressed the start button, and stood back as the dust particles blew out.
“You have an obstruction here somewhere. Here, you have to take this apart.”
She bent over, tugged at a seal where the hose went into the vacuum. Emma felt uncomfortable, seeing her bending over without support, but stood back to allow her space. When Anna straightened, she reached for support, and when there was none, she grabbed at the emptiness around her before she went down. A frightened cry emerged from her lips as she fell hard across the edge of the vacuum.
There was a sickening crack that could only be the breaking of a prominent bone, followed by a cry Emma would never forget.
She tried to gently move Anna off the vacuum, but was only met with wails of anguish, her poor old heart barely able to support her voice. Emma knew to dial 911, which she did with shaking hands.
The desperate cries from the poor suffering Anna were almost more than Emma could bear. It seemed as if hours had gone by before she finally heard the distant wail of the sirens. If only she hadn’t mentioned the disabled sweeper, if only she had not allowed Anna to walk without her cane.
The medics arrived, rushed into the house with professional speed and caring, lifted Anna off the sweeper amid her piercing cries.
Emma felt weak with the horror of listening to Anna’s terrible distress, but there was nothing to do but stay out of their way and answer questions.
Eventually she was placed on the gurney that would take her away. Her eyes were closed, her lips moving silently. Emma could never be sure if she was praying or mumbling words to herself, but she opted to believe she was praying.
She rode in the front of the ambulance, silently clutching one hand with the other, answering the driver’s questions as best she could, her mind in the back with the frightened Anna. Once at the hospital, she stayed right by Anna’s side. The X-rays showed a broken hip, badly fractured in two places on account of her aging joints weakened by arthritis. She was taken into surgery immediately. Emma called her parents, asking them to send a driver with clothes and toiletries so she would be able to spend the night at the hospital with Anna.
When both parents showed up later in the day carrying a small overnight case, Emma was so grateful. The sight of the two Amish people, dressed in the traditional black, so clean and well dressed, so dear, with eyes alight at the sight of her, brought quick tears to her eyes. If the whole world crumbled around her, she still had her parents to bolster her courage.
She extended both hands to them, saying, “Glad to see you. It was so awful the way she suffered.”
Her mother put a hand to Emma’s back and rubbed softly.
“I can’t imagine, Emma.”
Her father smiled kindly, looked at her with so much empathy Emma thought surely God must look something like that.
“Thanks so much for coming. You can’t know how much I appreciate it.”
“You know we’d do anything for you, Emma.”
And Emma knew they surely would.
CHAPTER 19
ANNA GILBERT STAYED IN THE HOSPITAL FOR ALMOST A WEEK, WITH EMMA spending her days by her bedside. After the first night sleeping in the chair next to Anna’s hospital bed, she decided Anna was in good hands with the nurses and doctors there and spent her nights sleeping at home.
She wavered between wishing she had never taken the job of being a caregiver, to hoping she’d be able to continue caring for Anna’s needs so that she would not have to be taken to a home for the elderly.
The November rain poured from leaden skies as Emma stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows at the end of the hospital hallway. The brown river snaked through the city like a glistening serpent, sluggish and filled with waste from a variety of industries that lined its banks. Tall buildings thrust their way into the churning gray clouds, the bare branches of trees lining the riverbank like dark crocheted lace. Overhead, black crows spread their wings and circled, dipping their wet wings to turn this way and that, coming so close to the window Emma could see their malevolent yellow eyes glaring through the rain.
Below her, pedestrians with bright umbrellas appeared to be moving flowers in brilliant shades of pink, yellow, and orange. Traffic splashed silently through the waterlogged streets, stopping and starting at various signals. Emma shivered, grateful for the warmth of the hospital, the lights and sturdy walls and roofs that kept her dry.
She turned to make her way back to Anna’s room, feeling mildly discontented, as if the day was turning into a long gray parade of uneventful minutes. She smiled weakly at a passing doctor, said hello to a familiar nurse. She heard the sound of an IV pole being monitored, cringed at the annoying beeps. A man with wide shoulders and a familiar gait stepped off the elevators and looked in her direction, without seeing her. He bent to check his phone, then walked resolutely in her direction.
Matt! He stopped, recognized her. His eyes opened wide.
Emma was astonished at the strong wave of pleasure she felt at the sight of him. So soon. They had parted with the sense of it being a long length of time before they would meet again, if ever.
But here he was.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, extending her hand.
He had no words, didn’t bother answering, simply took a few steps and folded her in his strong arms. Her chin rested against his shoulder. She felt the whisper of the dark curls, caught the scent of the woods and damp earth, felt his leather jacket, his massive hands on her slim waist.
She didn’t pull away. In fact, it never crossed her mind to try and break free, couldn’t care less what anyone thought. When his arms tightened, she slid hers around his heavy, powerful arms.
After too long, they both stepped back reluctantly. They held the embrace in their eyes, one knowing the other felt the same.
“My mother had gallbladder surgery,” he said, quietly. “Why are you here?”
“The woman I’m caring for fell and broke her hip. She’s recovering from surgery. Today we find out if she has to be put into . . . you know, a home. She’ll go kicking and screaming, believe me.” She paused, absorbing the fact that they’d run into each other in this strange way. Her thoughts seemed to be piling on top of each other. “Is your mom okay? Are you staying at home, then?”
“Yes, she’s going to be fine. No, I’m still living in Lancaster.”
Disappointment plunged its sharp saber into her spirits. So he hadn’t taken anything seriously, none of the conversation about God or returning to his roots.
Emma became aware of the passersby looking in Matt’s direction. Obviously, some of these nurses found him attractive, the way they threw backward glances after the first look. He seemed unaware o
f anything unusual.
She looked at him, really looked. Attractive, yes. But also absolutely unattainable. He had chosen to be English. He was off limits. They could be friends, but no more.
“Look,” he said. “I’m going to visit my mother. Are you free to grab a bite later? Can we meet at, say, five or something?”
“I have a driver picking me up at seven.”
“You can cancel, can’t you? I’ll take you home.”
The thought of spending the evening with Matt was so refreshing that she smiled genuinely into his eyes without reserve. “Meet you here at the elevator at five.”
He looked deep into her eyes and said, “I’ll be here.”
The afternoon crawled past at a snail’s pace. Emma watched the almost imperceptible jerk of the long black hand of the clock moving from one to one fifteen. She had helped Anna with her lunch tray, rang for the nurses when Anna needed to use the bedpan, then ate her own bland chicken noodle soup and grilled cheese sandwich. She helped Anna put cream in her coffee, turned the television on, turned up the volume until a large nurse came in and told her that was not allowed. The nurse was then berated harshly by the small rotund woman in the bed who told her this was exactly what was wrong in America, everybody bossed each other around over the stupidest things, and she was having none of it, broken hip, toe, knee, or arm.
Emma looked out the window at the rain that was carried on the current of a strong wind, thought of long winter evenings at home, wondered what the future would hold for her. Well, you simply never could tell about anything, could you? She had been determined to rest, to pray, seek God’s face and get it right, and fully intended to do just that. And here she and Matt were, thrown together again, here at the hospital of all places. Huh. She shook her head.
She just needed to trust God, let Him carry her whole load on His capable, almighty shoulders. She smiled to herself. How precious was this thing called faith? To believe in a higher existence, to believe your life was directed by none other than a living God who knew exactly what He was about.
She took a long time beneath the fluorescent lights in the bare, sterile bathroom, washing her face, combing her hair just right, wishing she had not worn the limp forest-green dress that had seen dozens of washings. Nothing to do about that now, so she turned to Anna’s bedside and was met with a piercing look and a sour disposition.
“Either you fell in love with the doctor or you have a young man somewhere,” she remarked drily.
“Neither one.”
“Is too. No one spends that long in the bathroom without something up her sleeve. You look all spiffy.”
Emma said nothing, which was a big mistake. Anna became absolutely determined to know why she had been in the bathroom so long.
“It’s nothing. My hair was coming loose from the hairpins, and it was driving me crazy, that’s all.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“So what am I supposed to say?” Emma asked.
“The truth.”
A gnarled finger was held up, waggled in her direction.
“You can’t fool me, Emmaline Beiler. There’s some young man coming to take you home. Am I right?”
Emma laughed, agreed, and said yes, there was.
Anna hooted like a screech owl, so pleased to have extracted this bit of information all by herself. When Emma gave her a goodnight hug, she cackled delightedly at her own cleverness.
“You’ll tell me all about it, right?”
Emma said she would, then remembered the fact that no doctors had been there, nothing had been discussed about her impending release from the confines of the hospital. As she had feared, a trio of doctors appeared a few minutes before five, intent on allowing Emma to help with decisions.
She restrained herself from watching the clock and listened respectfully as the doctors informed them of the need for a stay at a facility for rehabilitation, that Anna’s insurance would cover it, and if she had a trained caregiver she would be allowed to enter her own home after three weeks of rehab.
All this had taken almost thirty minutes, so when Anna managed to escape she found the hallway around the elevator empty. Her heart pounded with anxiety and disappointment as she realized that he’d waited, given up, and left.
His phone number was at home in her address book. For a wild moment she used all her brainpower, desperately trying to remember.
Three five two. Yes, that was right. But eight zero five nine? She hurried back to Anna’s room, grateful to find her asleep, lifted the receiver of the telephone, and dialed with hands that shook so badly she could barely accomplish the task.
“Sorry, we cannot complete this call . . .”
“Sorry this call cannot be completed. Please try again.”
On the fourth try, she got it right.
“Hullo?”
She sagged with relief when she heard the low voice, steadied herself to say, “Matt?”
“Yeah?”
“It’s me, Emma. I’m sorry. The doctors came in to talk about Anna going to rehab, and I couldn’t get away. Are you still in the hospital?”
Did she detect a choking sound, or was he merely clearing his throat? He did not answer immediately, and when he did his voice was strangely different.
“I’m actually in the parking lot, on my way to the car.”
“I’ll meet you at the front entrance.”
She was breathless by the time she’d flown down the long corridors and burst out into the cold rain to find him, finally, his shoulders hunched inside his leather jacket, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans.
He reached for her hand. She gave hers to him with so much willingness, and was led through the cold and the dark to a small white car.
“Whew,” she breathed. “Wet, wet.”
“Sure is. Here, let me get some heat in here.”
His hand was much too close to her knee, so she drew it back. He laughed good-naturedly, then put the car in reverse, turned, and drove through the rain that still poured from the sky.
“Don’t worry about your knee. I’m perfectly respectable.”
“Of course you are. It was involuntary, to give you room to find the heater thingy.”
“You sure?”
“I am.”
But the car was much too small, and Emma was caught unprepared for the strange way her heart pounded, or the intimacy that made her catch her breath.
The only sounds were the hissing tires on wet asphalt, the swish of the windshield wipers, and the barely perceptible car radio.
“Where to, Emma?” he asked.
“Oh, I have no idea. I’m not well acquainted with Rock City.”
“How about here? It’s nothing impressive, but it’ll be open late. A cup of coffee would be just great.”
“Sounds good to me.”
The coffee was liquid gold, the bowls of potato soup like ambrosia, the table between them an annoying obstruction.
“I thought you’d changed your mind,” Matt said, with a countenance so humble she had to restrain herself from touching his face to convey her feelings. She confessed the fourth sequence of numbers, the hopelessness of not having the number he had given her.
“You need your own phone.”
She told him that she really didn’t. The phones and computers were tearing at the Amish church like the fangs of an invisible wolf. She just needed her phone book, that’s all.
“You wouldn’t get a phone?”
“No.”
“I do respect and admire that, you know.”
“Well, I simply don’t need to help the damage along, to help destroy the foundation of what our forefathers have suffered to bring the religious freedom we enjoy today.”
“For me, though, the phone will be the hardest thing to give up.”
“Have you counted the cost, then?” she asked.
“I am working on it.”
They talked as the rain lashed against the windows of the diner. They shared memories o
f childhood, discovered mutual friends, found the time disappearing at a surprising rate.
“You think your parents will worry?”
“I left them a message. But yeah, I should go, probably. I know my mother does not sleep well until I arrive.”
He helped her with her coat, paid the bill, and put her in the car. They were quiet now, but with a new companionable silence, a relaxed knowing.
When they peeled up to the sidewalk, the house was dark, every window glistening with rain. The trees in the backyard appeared to be waving skeletal fingers, black and cold.
Emma shivered.
“So this is goodbye?” he asked quietly.
“Matt, it’s up to you. I’ll be honest. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. But I can’t think about dating until . . . until you decide if you’re returning to your roots.”
He nodded. “So you won’t change? That’s not an option?”
“I’m sorry, but no. I’m committed to Christ and to the church, so I plan on staying steadfast till the day I die. It really is up to you. If it’s too depressing for you to change your way of life, then I’ll move on.”
She was enormously grateful for the dark interior of the car to conceal the way her face heated up.
He gave a low laugh, then turned sideways in the driver’s seat, resting his elbow on the steering wheel.
“Look at me, Emma.”
She would not obey, afraid of the consequences. So slowly, he lifted a hand to her face and gently turned it. He cupped her chin, then tilted his own face just right and leaned softly forward until his mouth found hers, as lightly as a whisper.
He drew back, and when she leaned forward ever so slightly, he whispered her name, still gentle and calm. She found his eyes, glistening with emotion, before he found her mouth for the second time, claimed it with his own, and Emma was whirled away into a place where she had never been. Not with Sam King and certainly not with Ben.
This was entirely different. It was as natural and as right as the moon’s ascension into a cloudless night, as real as the flight of two turtledoves. There was a dimension of concern and caring, the promise of better things than a life lived alone.
