A Ready-Made Amish Family

by Jo Ann Brown

  First, Trudy led them to an examination room. She listened to Ammon’s heart before peering into his ears and his throat.

  “Everything looks normal,” she said. “No signs of scarring or other injury in his ears. Let’s see what else we can learn.”

  Again Ammon clutched his hand as Isaiah followed Clara and Trudy along a hallway. When Trudy opened a door at the far end of the hall, he saw the room beyond had a huge square cube to one side. The walls were covered with carpet. The single door had a tiny window, and another large window was at the far end by a simple table and chair.

  “This is our testing facility,” Trudy said. “It’s soundproof so we can measure what Ammon is hearing.” She picked up a set of headphones and asked slightly more loudly and distinctly, “Do you know what these are, Ammon?”

  He shook his head.

  Trudy’s smile returned. “A silly question for a plain boy, isn’t it?” She set the headphones on her head, adjusting the earphones over her ears. “You wear them like this.” Taking them off, she said, “When you go inside and wear these, I’ll play music for you. When you hear it, I want you to raise your hand like this.” She put up her right hand. “Then we’ll play other games. Okay?”

  Ammon glanced at Isaiah, abrupt fear in his eyes.

  “Can I go in with him?” Isaiah asked.

  “You may, but please don’t give him any cues. We must determine what he can hear.” She opened the door and motioned them to go in.

  He heard her ask Clara to take a seat to one side before the door closed and sound cut off. The cube was lined inside with odd protrusions and more carpet. A pair of chairs was placed so the occupants could look out the window.

  Trudy moved into sight, and a click resonated in the room. “If you want to sit and put on the headphones, Ammon, we’ll get started.”

  Isaiah guided the little boy to a chair. Sitting him there, he put the smaller set of headphones hanging from hooks on the wall on Ammon. He took the chair next to the boy as Trudy explained over the loudspeaker that they’d start with tones.

  Isaiah was amazed how tense he was as he watched the little boy raise and lower his hand. He saw Trudy’s encouraging smile while Ammon didn’t move; then the kind began saying words he must be hearing through the headphones. The words were random. Some came in quick succession while others seemed to have long breaks between them. He wondered what Ammon was hearing.

  The speaker’s click sounded again, and Trudy asked them to come out. She left Ammon with an aide in a nearby room filled with toys before, holding a manila folder, she led Isaiah and Clara to another door partway along the hall. Clara glanced at him, and Isaiah had to shrug. He had no idea what the tests had revealed.

  The room had a desk and several chairs. The mini blinds at its single window were closed. The audiologist gestured for them to sit in two chairs by the desk. She went around to the desk and sat facing them. Opening the top drawer, she drew out a piece of paper. Graph blocks created a small rectangle on one side of the page. No marks had been made on it.

  “This is the tool we use. It’s called an audiogram,” Trudy said, pointing to the graph. “When a patient is tested, the audiologist makes an X for the level of hearing in the left ear. We make a small circle for the level of hearing in the right ear. The numbers along the left side are for the horizontal lines and represent loudness. Quiet at the top and louder as the lines go down. We make the mark at the softest sound the patient hears at each note. The numbers along the top are for the nine vertical lines and have to do with the pitch of the sound. Each line from left to right goes higher in pitch. Think of it as a piano keyboard. The low notes are on the left, and the notes go higher as we go along the keyboard.”

  “What are the important numbers for Ammon to be able to hear?” Clara asked.

  Trudy drew a box near the top of the audiogram and colored it in. “This is what’s called the critical speech area. Pitches between 500 and 4000. For children, we like to see the loudness marks between 0 and 15. Anything in that box is considered good hearing. Do you have any other questions?”

  Isaiah shook his head, not wanting his voice to crack with anxiety.

  Beside him, Clara said, “I don’t have any more questions.”

  “Good.” Trudy opened the file folder and drew out a single sheet. She put it on the table between him and Clara. “Here are the results of Ammon’s test. As you can see, your concerns about his hearing are justified.”

  He stared at the graph. A single X was drawn in the critical speech area. The circles ran across the bottom of the audiogram, and the other Xs were scattered between, though most were closer to the bottom than the top.

  “Does this mean,” Clara asked in a strained voice, “he can’t hear much in his right ear?”

  “If he can hear anything with his right ear,” Trudy replied, “I’d be surprised. His hearing in his left ear is diminished. That he speaks so well is a blessing, but his speech will regress if his hearing isn’t augmented. My suggestion is you have Ammon fitted for a hearing aid in his left ear as soon as possible. It’ll allow the sounds he can hear to be amplified, especially in the critical speech area.”

  “What about his right ear?” Isaiah asked.

  She sighed. “From the physical examination and the audio test, it’s clear the nerves in his right ear are damaged. He can’t hear vibrations in it. A hearing aid won’t help. In fact, it might be detrimental because earwax can build up behind a hearing aid, and that could lead to ear infections.”

  “Do you think that’s what caused the hearing loss?” He couldn’t stop staring at the graph and the row of circles at the bottom.

  “It’s possible, though, as I said, I saw no signs of scars from multiple ear infections or any other damage caused by an injury. He may have been born with the nerves already defective.” She gave them a sad smile. “There’s no way to know without being able to talk to his parents. We need to work with what is and forget about what might have been.”

  “What do we need to do?” Clara asked.

  “The first thing is to have him measured for a mold to make the hearing aid’s insert for his ear. With your permission, I’ll have my assistant do that.”

  The audiologist rose and left the room after Isaiah nodded, again not trusting his voice. Thank the gut Lord for Clara! She hadn’t failed the boy.

  Trudy returned and held out typed pages to him. “Here’s basic information on the care and maintenance of a hearing aid. However, with a child Ammon’s age, the most important thing is to get him accustomed to wearing it whenever he’s awake. Be prepared. Some children resist because they hate having something in their ear or being teased. Others are bothered by the abrupt increase in what they can hear.”

  “His little sister has started wearing glasses.” Clara chuckled. “She wasn’t too happy, but Isaiah convinced her they were the very thing she needed. He can do that for Ammon, too, ain’t so?”

  He forced a smile as grief surged from his heart. He had no idea how to convince a five-year-old that wearing a hearing aid was no big deal. Glancing at Clara, who was asking more questions—ones he hadn’t thought of—he knew he could depend on her to help him. Again he thanked God for sending her.

  It’s more than I deserve, he added, but keep the twins in Your hands. They need You more because of my failures.

  He lowered his head, missing the closeness he’d once had with God. It was as if his prayers were having to rise to a very distant heaven instead of being heard by a loving parent who was never far away. He wished he could find his way to the relationship he’d had with God before Rose’s death.

  Trudy’s voice intruded into his thoughts, and he looked up to see her holding out more papers, these folded into three parts. “These pamphlets will help you with making arrangements for him in the classroom as well as in other public places.
The bottom one explains our payment plan for hearing aids. If you have any questions after you read them, please contact the office.”

  Isaiah took the pages numbly and was glad when Clara thanked the audiologist after Trudy asked them to return to the waiting room while they made the mold for Ammon’s left ear. That way, she assured them, the hearing aid would fit when it arrived in a few weeks.

  A few weeks? What if Melvin’s parents or Esta’s sister got to Paradise Springs before the hearing aid arrived? Would they be able to stay long enough for Ammon to get it, or would it have to be forwarded to where they lived?

  Enough! He was worrying about inconsequential things. The family would want to help the kinder.

  “Are you all right?” Clara asked as they sat on the chairs they’d used before.

  “No.”

  “Me neither.” She gave him a fleeting smile before lapsing into silence.

  And there was nothing more to say other than how glad he was she was there with him. Those words he must keep to himself.

  Chapter Twelve

  Clara heard the rattle of buggy wheels on the stones in the lane and looked out the window. Isaiah! What was he doing at the house in the middle of the day? She wiped her hands on the dish towel and left the rest of the dishes soaking in the sink.

  The twins were already swarming over Isaiah by the time she stepped outside. They greeted him with the same enthusiasm whenever he returned to the house, but they seemed a bit more excited than usual.

  During the past two weeks, the days had flowed one into the other without much of note other than taking Ammon to Lititz to have his hearing aid fitted. The concerns he wouldn’t want to wear it were for naught because he was delighted to be able to hear his siblings. It was the first thing he reached for in the morning and the last thing he took off at night. And Nettie Mae became less resistant to wearing glasses now that he had the hearing aid. Clara had warned them more than once that just because they had special tools to help them didn’t mean they were any different from any other kind in the district. Each plain youngster had to learn being part of the community was more important than standing out.

  As she neared, Isaiah went around to the back of his buggy and opened it. He pulled out bright blue pieces of plastic and black rods and netting. As he tossed each item on the grass, the twins became more excited.

  “What’s that?” Clara asked as he grabbed several of the larger pieces. She jumped aside when he dragged them past her.

  “It’s a trampoline. Or at least it’s supposed to be once it’s assembled.” He dropped the pieces onto the ground not far from the sandbox and went to get more. When the twins picked up a few smaller parts near the buggy, he pointed to the spot where he wanted them put. “Daniel got it at the house where he’s working. He’s renovating a big farmhouse for an Englischer and his wife.”

  She glanced at the piles of parts on the grass. “They didn’t want the trampoline?”

  “No. From what Daniel told me, it was in the barn when his clients bought the house. Their kinder are grown, so they don’t have any use for it. Daniel talked to them about the twins, and they decided to give him the trampoline for them.”

  “How generous!” She smiled. “It looks as if you’ve got your work cut out for you. There are a lot of pieces.”

  “Daniel is coming over later to help me put it together. He put one up for Joshua’s youngsters last summer. He says he remembers most of the steps.” He gave her a half smile. “Which is gut because we don’t have any assembly instructions.”

  “I’ll keep the kids away from it.”

  “You?” His smile broadened. “I’ll watch them this afternoon.”

  “You aren’t going to the forge?”

  He shook his head. “I haven’t taken as much time with the twins as I’d like. I want to while I can.”

  Clara blinked abrupt moisture from her eyes at the resignation in his voice. The kinder’s family could come at any time and take them, but they avoided speaking of it. Like the twins, they’d learned to pretend everything was fine.

  “All right,” she said. “I’ll get supper ready.”

  “Or you could stay out here and work with us.”

  “I don’t want to barge in on your time with them.”

  “How could you? You’re part of their lives, too. Don’t you want to help us? It’ll be fun, Clara, and we could use fun in our lives.”

  The dampness in her eyes threatened to coalesce into tears. She blinked them aside as she nodded. He was right. She was taking everything too seriously.

  “That sounds wunderbaar,” she said, and took the hand he held out to her.

  “C’mon!” he called to the twins. “Let’s get this sorted out so we can put it together.” As they began to try to figure out the pieces of the trampoline, she realized she’d forgotten how to have fun.

  She didn’t want to forget again.

  * * *

  By the time Daniel had arrived and they’d set to work assembling the trampoline, Isaiah was grateful for his younger brother’s assistance. Clara excused herself to let them work and insisted the kinder go in the house with her so one of the heavier pieces didn’t tumble on them.

  It took them almost two hours to set up the trampoline and make sure it was safe. Isaiah was pleased when Clara and the twins reappeared as he and Daniel were putting away the last of the tools. She carried a pitcher of lemonade that was sweating as much as they were. The afternoon was humid, and thunderheads threatened over the western hills.

  Taking a glass filled with ice and lemonade, he said, “Exactly what I was thinking about.”

  “I guessed.” She smiled at the youngsters staring with delight at the trampoline. “The twins were eager to do something while they waited for you to finish, so we squeezed lemons.” Looking at his brother, she added, “Daniel, would you like to join us for dinner?”

  “Danki, Clara,” his brother said after draining his glass and holding it out for a refill, “but I need to get home and help with Shelby’s physical therapy. She won’t let anyone else help her with practicing going up and down stairs.”

  “She’s got you well-trained.” Isaiah couldn’t help envying his younger brother, who had fallen in love with a girl who came with a ready-made family.

  “I’m wrapped around her little finger. Hers and Hannah’s.” Daniel finished his second glass of lemonade and handed it to Clara. He waved to them before heading to where his light brown buggy horse waited.

  The kinder were clamoring to test the trampoline even before the buggy left. Cautioning them to put a big space between them so they wouldn’t bump into each other, Isaiah lifted them, one after another, through the opening in the netting. As the trampoline shifted beneath them, they grabbed on to the netting and looked scared.

  “Just bounce,” he said.

  Ammon did, jumping high and coming down hard. He fell to his knees and then flat on his face. He pushed himself up. The side of his face was reddened, but he was grinning.

  “Bounce gently,” Clara urged. “A little motion will make you go a lot.” She grinned when the girls began to move with more confidence.

  Soon all four kinder were leaping around the trampoline like mad rabbits. Their squeals of excitement were sweet music. Not quite laughter, but closer than he’d heard from them since that tragic night.

  When the twins took a break to drink more lemonade, Isaiah asked, “Shall we try it, Clara?”

  “You go ahead.” She took a step away. “I should get dinner on the table.”

  “Not until you have your turn.” He grasped her hands and tugged her forward.

  “Clara’s turn! Clara’s turn!” shouted the twins, jumping with excitement as if still on the trampoline.

  “You hear them.” He yanked off his work boots and tossed t
hem and his socks to one side. “They think it’s a gut idea for you to take a turn.” He grabbed her by the waist and lifted her onto the surface.

  She gasped and clung to the netting to keep herself on her feet. “Give me a warning next time.”

  “I gave you one this time.”

  “Not much of one.”

  “But it was a warning.” He swung up and began moving along the unsteady surface.

  It was more fun than it looked, though it wasn’t easy keeping his balance. Every downward motion seemed to create a stronger upward one. Starting slowly, he increased the pressure he put on the trampoline, jumping a bit higher each time. The twins cheered when he flapped his arms like a bird taking flight.

  Spinning through the strengthening wind, which blew in heated gusts, he faced Clara. “You aren’t jumping.”

  “I’m trying to stay on my feet. It’s easier to give the twins advice than to do this myself.”

  “It’s easier if you jump.”

  She laced the fingers of one hand through another section of the netting and held her kapp in place with the other as the wind swirled its strings across her cheeks. “I’ll have to take your word for it.”

  He bounced hard, and she released the netting to throw out her arms to try to keep her balance. Grasping her hands, he pulled her to face him. “No, you don’t.”

  “Isaiah! I’m going to break my neck!”

  He halted his bouncing and steadied her as she was about to tumble off her feet. “Take it slow, Clara. You’ll see how much fun it is.”

  “That’s your opinion,” she retorted, but gave him a saucy grin.

  Again he began the slow, steady bouncing. He didn’t release her hands as they went up and down together. Her grin became a gleeful smile when they bounced higher and higher.

  “It’s fun!” she shouted.

  Thrilled he’d convinced her to toss aside her overwhelming sense of duty and enjoy herself, he looked into her pretty eyes that sparkled like ice in the pitcher. He was lost in their earth-brown depths. Hearing something like a heartfelt sigh, he wasn’t sure if it came from his throat or hers. There was nothing in the world but the two of them and the slick surface of the trampoline beneath their bare feet.