The Proving

by Beverly Lewis

  Trina stepped out of the elevator onto the eighth floor of the hospital where Gail Anderson was resting, waiting for the swelling in her hip to subside so that surgery could take place to repair it. She had inquired about Gail’s room number at the information desk upon first arriving late that afternoon, anxious to see how the woman was doing.

  She found her in room 807, lying flat on her back on the hospital bed. Seeing Gail was alone, Trina pulled a chair away from the window and moved it next to the bed, where she sat down to wait for Gail’s eyes to open. The call button had slipped out of reach, and Trina clipped it to a pillowcase.

  After a time, she walked to the window and adjusted the flower arrangements lined up there, and looked at the small cards attached—one each from Gail’s children and their families, as well as a white blooming cyclamen from her church. According to the greeting attached, the largest bouquet had been sent by Gail’s son, Bill.

  Smiling, Trina was glad the family had stepped up and demonstrated their care, at least with flowers.

  “Is that you, Trina, dear?”

  Hearing the feeble voice, Trina hurried back to Gail’s bedside. “How’s my favorite patient?” she asked, accepting the woman’s bony hand.

  “Alive, apparently,” Gail said, her eyes blinking, then closing again.

  Trina gently squeezed her hand. “You’ll be as good as new after surgery.”

  Gail smiled weakly. “The nurses here . . .” She shook her head as if refusing to speak ill of them. “You’ve spoiled me, Trina,” she whispered.

  “What do you need most?” she asked, tucking Gail’s hand back under the sheet.

  Gail murmured about how she felt stiff, even numb. “They don’t move me enough.”

  She must be worried about blood clots, Trina thought.

  “I’ll look into that,” she told her, making a mental note to stop at the nurses’ station to ask for air compression leg massagers. “What else can I do?”

  “Well”—and tears sprang to the woman’s eyes—“they had an awful time getting the IV needle in my arm when I arrived.”

  Trina moved to the other side of the bed and inspected the back of Gail’s lean hand, where the needle had been inserted into a bulging vein. “If you need another poke, I’ll request a small butterfly needle,” she said, wondering why someone hadn’t ordered one from pediatrics. It was common practice for elderly patients.

  Gail reached for Trina’s hand again. “Something else,” she said.

  Trina leaned closer.

  “You promised to look after me.”

  Trina nodded. “And I will.”

  “You’ll be my nurse when I get out of here . . . full time?” the woman’s voice was a near whisper.

  Sighing, Trina assumed future arrangements for Gail’s care were out of her hands. “Have you talked with your family about where you want to be once you’re finished with rehab?”

  Gail’s eyes shot open wide. “That’s a given—I want to go home.”

  Most people wish for that.

  Gail’s hand shook and her lower lip quivered. “Please talk to my children. They’re coming back to visit tomorrow evening.”

  Realizing the frail woman was likely depressed, given the circumstances, Trina stayed past the dinner hour, during which time she offered Gail some food when the tray came around.

  While she tended to the dear, helpless woman, Trina felt sad where Gail’s future care was concerned. And later, when talking firmly with the head nurse to address the patient’s complaints, she felt all the worse when the nurse seemed distracted and raised her eyebrows. “I expect these matters to be taken care of,” Trina emphasized. “And I’ll check back tomorrow to make sure they are,” she added before leaving, barely suppressing her anger.

  At home, Trina decided to warm up yesterday’s leftovers, unable to get Gail out of her mind. Eager to nose around a bit, she gave one of the daughters a call. After exchanging a few niceties, Trina asked if the family had talked about plans for Gail after transitional care. “I’m sure you know she’s hoping to return home when she’s able.”

  Fifty-something Kathy Anderson sounded thoughtful as she replied, “I’m sure she’d rather die at home than around strangers.”

  Who said anything about dying? Trina thought, taken aback. She chose her next words carefully. “Understandable, but your mother is hardly terminal.”

  “Well, her balance is off—she shouldn’t be home alone anymore.”

  “The family should jump through hoops for her,” Trina wanted to say. Surely all of them cared as much about Gail’s wish to return home as the woman herself did.

  Instead, she replied, “I agree she needs more care.” Trina didn’t say that Gail had asked her to be a full-time nurse.

  Kathy paused, then said, “We don’t have many options, quite frankly, because Mom can’t afford twenty-four-hour nursing care.”

  “Not many people can.” Again, Trina badly wanted to suggest the family help out more, but she really shouldn’t stick her nose in any further. “I’m planning to visit her again tomorrow . . . see how she’s doing.”

  “She’ll be thrilled. She talks about you all the time, Trina.”

  Trina grinned into the phone. “I think the world of her, too.”

  They talked a bit more and then hung up.

  Gail won’t be going home, Trina realized, a painful lump in her throat.

  She lightly salted her reheated vegetables and removed the food from the burner, hoping the Anderson family would pay close attention to their loved one’s needs. The truth of the matter was that Gail would undoubtedly go from rehab to assisted living . . . and Trina would miss her terribly.

  Fighting tears now, Trina hugged herself. Get ahold of yourself. You’re taking this too hard.

  But she couldn’t help it. What am I going to do?

  She took a few deep breaths, letting them out slowly, and little by little, pulled herself together.

  When at last she felt calmer, she sat down to eat and decided to keep in touch with Gail regardless of whether she remained her patient or not. Trina prayed the blessing over the food, tucking in one for Gail, too. “Dear Lord, my friend needs Your comfort tonight. Please be with her as she looks ahead to the coming surgery. I ask this in Christ’s name. Amen.”

  For dessert, which she rarely ate, she had a thin slice of peach pie with a cup of coffee. Savoring the pie, which she’d made yesterday to share with Gail, she was overcome with discouragement again, even loneliness, the kind that was sure to engulf her once Trina’s responsibilities to the woman were a thing of the past. And yet, despite that, she hoped she might not be reassigned a new evening patient, not yet. I need some space, she thought. Some time away . . .

  Time to grieve losing Gail, she thought while carrying her dishes to the sink. There, she rinsed them before loading them into the dishwasher, and as she did, the idea of getting out of town for a couple weeks crossed her mind. Somewhere warm and unpopulated, she thought, relishing the impulsive notion. And away from difficult people.

  She recalled the magazine ad she’d seen and opened her laptop, deciding to sign up for a mystery trip before she changed her mind.

  Laughing at what she’d done, she dialed Janna’s number to tell her. “I threw caution to the wind! Can you imagine me doing something so spur-of-the-moment?”

  Her sister was chuckling, too. “What did you tell your boss?”

  “I haven’t yet. Actually, I’m planning to take a leave of absence.”

  “If anyone can manage it financially, it’s you.”

  Trina nodded at the phone. “I make penny pinchers look like impulsive spenders!”

  Janna laughed, and Trina promised to let her know where the trip took her. “As crazy as this sounds, I’m actually excited.”

  “You need something to look forward to, I think.”

  “Totally agree.”

  “I hope you can relax while you’re gone. Most days, you prefer to go ninety miles an hour
.”

  I do need a break, Trina thought. But her sister was right. How will I manage nearly two weeks of doing nothing?

  Chapter

  16

  That Sunday morning, after serving the guests a simple breakfast, Mandy attended the community church, but this time she decided to wear her Amish clothing, having become quite comfortable in it again. This elicited more than a few head scratches and stares as she took her seat in the padded church pew with a few other single women.

  Reaching for the hymnal, she waited for the minister to take his seat on the platform while a family of nine filed in reverently and sat down, taking up the long pew in front of her. Two of the younger sisters, both brunettes, seemed especially affectionate, one whispering something to the other and receiving a sweet smile in return.

  Arie Mae and I were once that close, Mandy thought, tears welling up.

  After the service, instead of making something to eat at home, Mandy stoked the black coal stove and walked straight to her room, where she fell asleep on the bed while still wearing her black woolen shawl. This being her only day to catch her breath, she slept for two solid hours before waking with a start. Seeing what time it was, she shook her head in surprise, then, hungry, she went to the kitchen and made a generous salad with tomato, cucumbers, and avocado, and added some leftover chicken strips from last evening, when she’d baked several chicken breasts.

  Lunch finished, she decided she’d like to visit her Dienner grandparents down in Paradise, so she got in her car and headed that way. How will they receive me? she wondered, hoping for the best from her only remaining grandparents.

  As it turned out, Dawdi and Mammi Dienner were gone from their house, undoubtedly out visiting this no-Preaching Sunday, since the gray family carriage was nowhere to be seen. So Mandy left a note saying she would drop by to see them another time, signing off With love, your granddaughter, Amanda Sue, and headed back to Gordonville, feeling blue.

  The gray sky threatened snow, and she shivered as, before going inside the house, she gathered a bucket of coal to bring to life the smoldering fire in the stove. While outside, she had noticed that someone had stacked more firewood near the back door. Karl, perhaps?

  Moments later, she heard a timid knock and hurried to open the back door. She peered down at the most striking little blond boy, his cheeks rosy with cold. “You must be Yonnie Lantz,” she said, immediately seeing the resemblance to his father.

  Shyly, he bobbed his head.

  “Kumme in an’ get waerme,” she said, introducing herself in Deitsch, since she knew he was too young to understand English. “I’d be glad to make some hot cocoa. All right?”

  Timidly, he stepped into the house and, as if on cue, removed his little black felt hat and hung it on the back corner of the nearest kitchen chair. “Dat’ll hitch up for the buggy ride today,” he announced in a husky little voice.

  “Ol’ Tulip, then?” she replied in kind.

  Yonnie’s big blue eyes smiled as he nodded.

  “Such a help.” She smiled to herself as she made her way to the pantry, where she took down a canister of Mamma’s homemade cocoa mix. “This won’t take but a minute,” she said, asking if he’d like to sit at the table to wait. “I’ll have some coffee with you, how’s that?”

  Bless his heart, Yonnie beamed at her.

  Once the hot drinks were ready, they sat across from each other at the kitchen table, blowing gently, then sipping. The boy was silent all the while as he seemed to take in the expansive room with his inquisitive gaze. Mandy did the talking, letting him know that if he ever wanted to get warmed up, or wanted something to drink or eat, he could just open the back door and walk right in. “If I’m here in the kitchen, I’ll see ya. If not, do ya see that cowbell on the counter over yonder? Well, just ring it.”

  Yonnie seemed to like her plan, his eyes sparkling as he peeked over the top of his cup of hot cocoa.

  Mandy also offered him a cookie, which he eagerly accepted. “Be sure to thank your father for me,” she said, wondering if she dared hope that Karl might even offer to take the guests for a ride, too. But she wouldn’t ask for that favor. After all, it was her inheritance she was attempting to earn. Challenging though it was!

  Once Mandy had taken the guests on the buggy ride down to Irishtown Road and back, Janice Hart—who’d earlier told Mandy she had been a close friend of her mother’s in recent years—asked if she and Mandy might sit and have tea by the fireplace sometime later today.

  “Sure, but I have to get the horse back to the stable first,” Mandy said as she halted Ol’ Tulip to let her guests out near the front walkway.

  “That’s perfectly fine,” the woman agreed as Mandy headed around the back of the house, where right away she spotted Karl’s fair hair peeking out of his hat. He waved her forward.

  “Yonnie really enjoyed the hot cocoa—the special attention, too,” Karl said with a grin. “If ya’d like, I’ll go ahead and unhitch for ya.”

  Mandy thanked him while stepping out of the carriage. “Yonnie’s welcome anytime.”

  “Well, it was kind. You must be tuckered out, considering all you’re doin’,” he said, taking the driving lines from her.

  “You have no idea . . . well, jah, s’pose you might.” She felt silly, stumbling over her words like that.

  “Listen, if it’s all right, Mandy, I’d be more than happy to take your guests out ridin’ each afternoon, if that’d help.”

  She couldn’t have been more pleased. Somehow he guessed what I wished I could ask, she thought, remembering how Betsy said Mamma had called Karl a godsend.

  “I appreciate it more than you know . . . and everything else you’re doin’ round here. Now, if I could just get some gut help inside the house,” she said, immediately wondering why she’d opened her mouth.

  “Your sister used to—”

  “Well, she’s not helpin’ anymore,” Mandy interrupted, then realized how she must sound. “Ach, I . . .” She didn’t know how to begin to explain herself, or if she should even attempt it.

  Karl nodded, but his expression was puzzled. “I’ve noticed Josiah and your brother Sammy comin’ by to see about things from time to time.”

  “Denki again, Karl.” Mandy wished this conversation hadn’t taken such a disquieting turn.

  He nodded slowly, his face ever so serious now. “Glad to do what I can.”

  Daylight had begun to fade as Mandy walked toward the house. The smell of woodsmoke filled the air, and blackbirds cawed to one another where they sat atop the corncrib.

  Back inside, she removed her mother’s candlesnuffer bonnet and warmest wool coat and hung them up on the wooden wall pegs along the far wall of the kitchen. Catching her breath, she made her way around to the breakfast room and found Janice Hart seated at the table closest to the hearth, two steaming cups of hot water already poured.

  “I heard you come inside and took the liberty of getting you set up,” the woman said, pointing to the teacups and the basket of tea bags. “Hope it’s all right.”

  “Thank you—such a treat,” Mandy said, soaking in the warmth of the fire as she pulled out a chair next to Janice, who looked close in age to Mamma.

  “I’d like to get to know you.” The woman’s smile was contagious. “You see, your mother was more than my acquaintance; she was a wonderful friend . . . wrote numerous letters and cards of encouragement after my daughter, Candace, was diagnosed with leukemia, three years ago.”

  Janice continued sharing, saying she might never have yearned for a relationship with the Lord if she hadn’t come to this inn. “Your mother was a guiding light in so many ways . . . truly a spiritual sister to me.”

  This warmed Mandy’s heart.

  “She kept in close touch throughout the years between my husband’s and my visits.” Janice dabbed a tissue at her eyes. “I was so despondent after Candace died, I scarcely wanted to live anymore. She was our only child . . . we were so very close.”

  Man
dy felt moved by the woman’s emotion.

  “Your mother’s faith and dependence upon God gave me the courage I needed. And not just for myself, but to reach out to other grieving mothers.” Janice gently tapped the tabletop. “In fact, she and I sometimes spent an hour right here sipping tea.”

  “I’m glad Mamma cared so deeply for you,” Mandy said. “I can’t imagine your loss.”

  “When I first met Saloma, I just felt I could openly share my heart with her. I became envious of her joyful nature and the sense of peace she seemed to have found even as a widow. Eventually, her Lord and Savior became mine . . . but it all started because she was such a consistently dear friend to me.”

  “You must miss her terribly.” Mandy was surprised at the depth of caring Mamma had shown for an Englischer.

  “I cried when my husband and I learned that she’d passed away. Regrettably, we heard too late to attend the funeral—that’s one of the reasons we’re here now.” Janice touched Mandy’s hand. “Your mother talked of you often, Mandy. She loved you dearly . . . confided she prayed for you every day.”

  Mandy resisted the inclination to frown, taking Janice’s words at face value. It seemed odd to hear this from a stranger. And she couldn’t help wondering whether Mamma had also told Janice why Mandy had left home.

  “It’s obvious so many people loved her,” Mandy said quietly.

  Janice nodded slowly, eyes locked on Mandy. “She asked God to bring people her way—here to the B and B—those who needed Him most.”

  Mandy pondered that, wondering if that was also the reason her mother had left the inn to her . . . Mamma’s way of asking God to bring her home again. “I’m glad you shared that with me . . . and I hope you enjoy your stay here, even though my cookin’ can’t hold a candle to Mamma’s.”

  Janice shook her head but didn’t refute Mandy’s comment. “It can’t be easy running the place by yourself.”

  “It certainly gives me a gut reason to get up in the morning!”

  Pouring more hot water into her cup, Janice smiled. “You have some of your mother’s spunk.”