by Beth Wiseman
Mary Ellen stopped scouring the spot, took a deep breath, and bowed her head.
Dear Lord, release me of the bitterness I feel for Josephine, this woman who so graciously gave us Linda to raise. Now, in her time of need, please guide me to do right by her, to shed all jealousy where she is concerned, and to help her any way I can as her time to join You draws near. In Jesus’ name I pray, God. Give me strength.
Mary Ellen stood up, dropped the sponge in the sink, and headed out to see if she could help Abe and the boys get things ready for the storm.
Stephen hobbled out of the water, anxious to get his shoes back on. He towel dried as best he could before pulling on his pants and shirt over his swim shorts, then quickly pulled his work boots back on. He’d felt confident in the water where Linda couldn’t see his awkwardness, but back on land, he needed his shoes on to feel normal.
“You worry too much about that.” Linda waded her way out of the water, thrust her hands on her hips and stared at him. “About your foot.”
Aw, don’t bring it up. “I ain’t worrying.” He pulled his suspenders up over his blue short-sleeved shirt.
“I reckon you seem like you’re worried about it.” She pointed to her leg. “What about my birthmark? Should I be trying to cover that up around you?”
“It ain’t the same, Linda.” That birthmark was the last thing he’d been looking at.
She reached for a towel she’d left on the bank and wrapped it around herself. “I just want you to know that I love you just the way you are.”
He turned quickly toward her. She was white as snow, her eyes wide, and biting her lip. “What did you say?”
“I, uh . . . you know what I mean. I just like you for being you.” She turned away from him, and Stephen walked to her, wrapped his arms around her waist.
“No, that’s not what you said.” He kissed the back of her neck. “You said—”
“No I didn’t!” She spun around. “Because I would never say something like that first, Stephen. It just—it just slipped out, and—”
“Linda.” He cupped her beautiful, soft, pale cheeks in his hands. “I love you.”
She didn’t smile. “Are you just saying that because I did? On accident.” She twisted her mouth sideways, lifted her chin.
“Don’t you even read my poems? I’ve done everything but scream it to you. I love you, Linda. With all my heart. I’ve loved you for a long time.”
She giggled. “Since when?”
Stephen smiled. “I reckon since you stubbed your toe on the playground in first grade. You cried so hard, I wanted to hug you, even back then. And don’t you remember, I gave you the pie in my lunch that day?” Stephen chuckled. “I loved you then, ’cause I reckon rhubarb pie is my favorite, and I gave it to you.”
“I do remember that.” She lowered her head for a moment. When she looked up, her eyes were teary, but in a good way. “I love you, Stephen Ebersol.”
Now is the time to ask her. Stephen opened his mouth to ask her to be his wife, the way he’d so romantically—or cowardly—done in the letter, but the words just weren’t coming. “Linda . . .”
She waited.
“Linda . . .”
Just then, thunder boomed overhead amidst clouds that had darkened within the last few minutes.
“I love you, Linda.” He kissed her gently. “But we better get home.”
“Ya, look at the clouds coming from the west.” She pointed to a large mass of blackness moving in their direction.
They hurried to Stephen’s topless courting buggy. “It’s gonna make wet before I get you back to Josie’s, I reckon.”
Linda shrugged. “We’re already wet anyway.” There was a loud clap of thunder. “But thunder and lightning scare me.” She squeezed her shoulders together and closed her eyes.
Stephen flicked the horse into action. “Don’t worry. I’ll get you home safely.”
They’d barely pulled out onto the road when the sky opened up.
When they got to Josie’s, Linda gave Stephen a quick kiss in the driveway. “Don’t come in. Get home before the storm gets worse. And be careful.” She turned to leave, but spun back around, as if waiting for something.
“I love you, Linda.”
Her face brightened beneath the droplets of rain. “I love you too, Stephen!”
He watched her run up the walkway, turn the doorknob, and get safely inside before he turned to leave. Blackness engulfed the skies above him, and the thunder was so loud he jolted every time it echoed overhead. He considered asking Linda if he could stay for a while, but his house was less than fifteen minutes by buggy. Surely, it’d be all right. Stephen backed the buggy out of the driveway.
Mary Ellen closed the window above the kitchen sink when rain began to spray through the screen.
“Luke and Matt, go close the windows upstairs. I know it might be hot for a spell with all the windows shut, but otherwise we’re going to be sleeping on wet linens later.”
Both boys headed toward the stairs as Abe came in from outside. He pushed the wooden door closed behind him.
“What a storm. We sure need the rain, but maybe not so much of it at once.” Abe pulled off his soaked straw hat and hung it on the rack by the door, then raked a hand through his hair. “Everything is secure outside.”
A loud clap of thunder rocked the house and rattled the china in her cabinet. “That was close.” Mary Ellen walked to the window and peered outside. “And it’s raining so hard, can’t see a thing.” She paused, turned to Abe. “You think Linda is all right? She gets scared during storms like this, even at her age.”
“She’s fine, I’m sure, Mary Ellen.” Abe headed toward the back of the house, presumably to check the other windows.
“I hope Josephine doesn’t leave her alone during the storm for anything. Linda would be terrified.” She shook her head. “She might pretend otherwise, but I know my daughter, and every time it storms, I coddle her like a baby. She puts her hands over her ears, Abe, and she gets very scared.”
“Mary Ellen, Linda is fine.”
“I know she thinks she’s grown up, but in so many ways she is still so young.”
“She’s a big baby. She always gets scared when there’s a storm.” Matt rolled his eyes as he walked into the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and pulled out a pitcher of tea, then pulled a glass from the cabinet.
Luke followed his older brother. “She ain’t no baby. She just don’t like thunder.”
Mary Ellen narrowed her eyes in Matt’s direction. Then she turned to Luke. “That’s right, Luke. She just doesn’t like thunder.”
“Hope she’s havin’ fun on her little vacation.” Matt walked to the window by the kitchen door and looked outside. “Sure ain’t fun around here, having to help with girl chores.” He sat down on a bench at the table and drank his meadow tea.
“Ach, Matt. I’ve asked you to do very little since your sister has been gone. Now stop your complaining.”
Her oldest son rolled his eyes again.
“You will find your daed taking you out to the woodshed if he catches you rollin’ your eyes at me like that.” Mary Ellen knew Matt was much too old for that type of discipline, but as of late, he’d developed a disrespectful attitude.
Luke pulled the wooden door in the kitchen open and watched the lightning flash for a moment before holding his hand up in everyone’s direction. “Listen. Do you hear that? I think it’s the phone ringing in the barn.”
Linda. “I’ll go.” Mary Ellen closed the door, reached for the umbrella behind it, then swung it wide again.
“You will do no such thing, Mary Ellen.” Abe latched onto her arm. “Do you hear how close that lightning is? You’ll get soaked, and by the time you get there, that phone will have stopped ringing.”
Mary Ellen jerked from his grasp and stepped into Abe’s galoshes that were by the door. “I told you. Linda gets scared when there is a storm, and the sound of my voice will comfort her. I’ll just call her
right back and talk to her for a minute.”
Abe was shaking his head as she brushed past him. She stood on the porch staring at the torrential rain and cringed as another burst of lightning lit up the sky, followed by a deafening eruption of thunder. Her heart thudded hard as she made her way across the yard to the barn. Like her daughter, she was not a fan of raucous storms.
As Abe predicted, the phone had stopped ringing by the time she got to the barn. The answering machine light flashed one. Mary Ellen set the umbrella down and pushed the button.
“Mamm, I’m so scared. Mamm, I’m really scared!”
I knew it. Mary Ellen reached for the phone to call and comfort her daughter, but she stopped when she heard Linda go on.
“Mamm, call me back. It’s about Josie. I’m scared. She’s not breathing.”
16
LINDA WATCHED TWO MEN IN WHITE UNIFORMS HUDDLE over Josie, and lights from the ambulance flashed through the window of the house. The rain continued to pound outside, and one of the men had placed a plastic mask over Josie’s face and said it would help her to breathe.
“Onkel Noah, is she going to be all right?” Linda had known to dial 9-1-1 when she walked into the house and found Josie lying on the kitchen floor in the middle of red sauce and a broken casserole dish. Lasagna noodles and meat were strewn across the tile floor. After she called the emergency number for help, she’d called her uncle, and then her mother.
“Josie had a seizure.” Noah put his hand on her shoulder. “But she is going to be all right.”
Linda didn’t have any idea what that was, but she knew she’d never been so scared in her entire life. “What is that? What caused it? Did her bad headaches cause her to have a seizure? What now? Is she going to the hospital?”
“I’m not going to the hospital. I’m fine.”
Linda turned to see that Josie had pulled the mask from her face. Linda pushed her uncle out of the way and squatted down beside Josie on the floor. “Josie, oh Josie. Are you okay?” She latched onto her hand. “Are you hurting? Are you in pain?”
“No, sweetheart. I’m not in any pain. This has happened before, but it hasn’t happened in a long time. I’m sorry you had to see this.”
“Mrs. Dronberger, we’re going to have to take you to the hospital for evaluation.”
“No. I’m not going.”
Her uncle moved toward them and knelt down. “Linda, Josie was breathing, but she was unconscious when you found her.” Her uncle leaned down closer to Josie. “How long has it been since you’ve had a seizure, Josie?”
Josie reached up with her left hand and rubbed her eyes. Linda noticed Josie’s right hand was jerking like before. “I don’t know, Noah. I guess maybe about a year. They were pretty regular back when—” Josie stopped and looked at Linda for a moment, then back at her uncle. She didn’t go on.
“When is Robert due back in town?”
“Not for another week and a half.” Josie sighed. “He was far enough away from the attacks in China, and he was going to try to finish his business since he made the long trip.”
Linda glanced back and forth between her uncle and Josie. Do they know each other?
Linda had called her uncle because he was a doctor, but he and Josie sure seemed familiar with each other.
“I think we need him to come home sooner, Josie. You shouldn’t be alone.” Her uncle’s forehead wrinkled with worry.
“She’s not alone. She has me. I’m staying here for the whole two weeks, while Robert is in China.”
“Honey, I think Josie is going to need more care than you can probably give her.” Uncle Noah was talking to her like she was a child.
“I can take care of you, Josie.” Linda folded her hands in her lap as she began to wonder what was wrong with Josie. She turned toward her uncle. “Did this happen ’cause of her headaches?”
Linda watched Uncle Noah and Josie lock eyes briefly.
“Yes, it happened because of my headaches.” Josie smiled at Linda. “You know how bad they get sometimes.”
The men in the uniforms were packed up and looked like they were ready to leave. The taller man handed Uncle Noah a piece of paper. “Dr. Stoltzfus, she really should go to the hospital, but we’ll leave her in your care if she’ll sign this release form saying she refused to go.”
“Josie . . .” Uncle Noah sighed. “How about it?”
“I’m not going, Noah. And you know why. This is going to happen again, and . . .” Josie looked at Linda again, then back at Uncle Noah. “And there’s nothing that can be done.”
“I can take care of you Josie,” Linda repeated, although the thought terrified her. “Just tell me what to do.”
“Linda!”
Linda turned and saw her mother’s comforting face. She jumped up and ran into her mother’s arms as Mary Ellen walked into Josie’s kitchen. “Are you all right?” Mamm held her tight.
“I was so scared,” Linda whispered in her mother’s ear. “I didn’t know what to do. I called 9-1-1 like you always told us.”
“You did the right thing.” Mamm eased out of the hug and made her way toward Josie and Noah.
“Is she all right?” Mamm directed the question to Noah.
“I’m fine.” Josie sat up, then looked at the mess in her kitchen and at her clothes. “I sure made a mess, though.”
“We’re going.” The two uniformed men waved and headed out the front door. “Take care, Mrs. Dronberger,” the taller man said before he closed the door behind them.
“Josie, you can’t stay here by yourself. What about your mother? Do you want me to call your mother?” Noah stood up.
Linda watched Josie’s face turn a bright shade of red. “No. Do not call my mother. I don’t want her around me.”
Noah let out another sigh. “Then let’s get Robert on the phone and have him come home early.”
“I don’t want to do that.” Josie’s eyes filled with tears. “This case is so important to him.” She paused and looked at Linda. “But I know it’s not fair for Linda to stay.”
“I have told everyone that I can take care of Josie.” Linda glared at Noah, then looked at her mother with pleading eyes. “Besides, maybe it won’t happen again. Josie’s had some headaches, but nothing like this.”
“It will happen again.” Josie turned her head away from everyone, and Linda was sure they were not telling her something.
“Does Robert have his cell phone over there? I’ll go give him a call.” Uncle Noah stood up and pulled his cell phone from the pocket of his white doctor’s coat.
“Yes, he does.”
“He wasn’t near any of the trouble, was he?” Noah took a few steps toward the other side of the room.
Josie was still facing away from everyone, and Linda saw her wipe away a tear. “No. He wasn’t near there.”
Linda wasn’t sure what to do. What is happening? Her uncle walked into the next room. Linda could hear him talking but couldn’t understand what he was saying.
“Here, let’s get you cleaned up.” Mamm squatted down beside Josie on the floor. Josie wiped her hands, covered with sauce, on her blue jeans, then covered her face with both hands. “I’m sorry, Mary Ellen. I’m sorry for everything. I should have never . . .”
Normally, if someone was crying, Mamm was the first one to offer comfort, but Mamm just sat there and seemed unsure of what to do. Linda knelt down beside her mother.
“Josie, it’s all right.” Linda grabbed her hand and squeezed at about the same time her mother wrapped an arm around Josie. Together, Mamm and Linda pulled Josie to her feet.
“Linda, why don’t you clean up this mess, and I’ll help Josie upstairs to get some fresh clothes on.” Mamm said it in a tone that meant there’d be no argument. Linda nodded.
Mary Ellen kept an arm around Josephine’s waist as they headed up the stairs. Josephine grasped the handrail with one hand and draped her other arm across Mary Ellen’s shoulder. Mary Ellen could feel her struggling to pull herse
lf up the steps with each heavy step they took. Josephine kept mumbling how sorry she was. For everything.
“Are you sure you didn’t get cut by all that glass in the kitchen?” Mary Ellen paused on the step when she felt Josephine leaning on her even more. Josephine took a few moments to catch her breath, then shook her head.
“No. I didn’t get cut.” She sighed. “I’m just really tired.”
“Can you keep going?”
Josephine nodded. “I think so.”
Mary Ellen tightened her hold around her and edged them upward.
When they walked into Josephine’s room, Mary Ellen couldn’t believe her eyes. She hadn’t really noticed the downstairs too much with all the ruckus going on, but now that things had settled down a bit, she took in her surroundings. She’d been in plenty of Englisch homes over the years, but nothing like this. Why in the world would anyone need all this?
Mary Ellen cringed when Josephine sat down on the bed and smeared what appeared to be spaghetti sauce all over her blue bedspread, even getting a little on one of the white throw pillows. But she didn’t seem to care. Josephine wasn’t crying anymore. Her expression was blank as she stared into the far corner of the room.
“I never should have come here.” She turned to Mary Ellen. “This is all going to be too hard on Linda, and it was selfish of me to want to get to know her. Selfish of me to put her through all this.”
Mary Ellen didn’t say anything.
“But now I don’t know how to undo it.” She shrugged. “I guess Robert and I could just leave, and—”
“And leave Linda hanging, thinking her mother abandoned her?” Mary Ellen stared hard into Josie’s eyes. “I don’t think that’s an option at this point.”
“Then what should I do, Mary Ellen?” Josephine threw her hands in the air, then slammed them down beside her. “I’ve already said how sorry I am about everything.” Then Josephine started to cry again. Mary Ellen sat down on the bed beside her. Her own dress was covered in sauce anyway.
