“You don’t have to patronize us, Emery,” Ida shot at him. “Debbie and I could load those itchy corn bundles just fine. But this is a man’s day, we know, and we women can’t be around to interfere with all your horsing around.”
Emery laughed. “Don’t look at me! I behave myself perfectly.”
A shadow crossed Bishop Beiler’s face. “I will lecture everyone before we start this morning. I agree that things have been getting a little rough the past years… what with the teasing among the young men.” Bishop Beiler’s face softened. “But some of them are getting older, thank Da Hah, and the wedding season’s just around the corner.”
“That’s still no excuse for rough play,” Saloma spoke up. “I heard the women say last week that Joe Weaver’s younger brother, Virgil, and his cousin Roy were racing each other on who could throw in the most bundles. They ended up nearly knocking Virgil into the blades.”
“Yah,” Bishop Beiler agreed. “I heard that too, so I will be saying something this morning when the crew arrives. I know Da Hah watches over us, but tempting Him is never the right thing. We are supposed to use our heads.”
“Young men don’t always have a lot of sense.” Ida gave Emery a sharp glance.
“Hey!” Emery protested. “I don’t act like that. And speaking of the wedding season, you and Minister Kanagy are getting married soon… too soon, if you ask me.”
Ida looked ready to fire something back, but she must have changed her mind because she looked at her food instead.
The bishop spoke for her instead. “Ida’s plans are perfectly honorable, Emery. She’s taking on a needed work, and she will make Minister Kanagy an outstanding frau. You should take lessons from her.”
Emery didn’t answer, but he too kept his gaze on his plate of food.
Were thoughts of Crystal spinning around in his head? Debbie wondered. Did Bishop Beiler know about the attention Emery was paying Crystal?
Wagon wheels rattled in the driveway at that moment, and Emery appeared relieved. The bishop gulped down the last few bites of food and led out in the closing prayer.
Twenty
Debbie stood at the living room window stirring the first batch of lemonade for the day. Verna had arrived an hour ago with baby Sarah Mae. The two were now in the kitchen with Ida and Saloma. Debbie had offered her share of exclamations over the fast-growing baby before she left the Beiler women to their private conversation. She didn’t know exactly what they wanted to talk about, but it was only right that she give them some time together alone. Though she was Amish now and fully accepted in the Beiler household, she was still very aware of her difference from the other Beiler girls. She was a Beiler daughter…and yet she wasn’t. Emery, whom she admired, was a brother… and yet he wasn’t. That thought made her think again that the sooner she and Alvin married the better. But at the rate Alvin was moving, he wouldn’t propose for another two years or maybe more.
Debbie shook her head and took in the scene outside. The barnyard resembled chaos. That was no doubt because she still wasn’t used to silo-filling day. She was sure there was an order and rhythm to the men’s work that didn’t yet make sense to her. All morning, long lines of wagons filled to the brim with corn bundles were driven in from the fields and past some contraptions set up near the silo.
The massive unit with the long chute that went up the side of the silo was the silage chopper, Ida had pointed out. The tractor with the long belt that sat many yards away ran the whole thing. The noise was what had taken Debbie the longest to get used to. It was deafening, assaulting the ear with unending racket.
Each wagon pulled up close to the chopper, with the man who drove the horses hollering to the animals as he maneuvered the lines. There was no way the horses could hear any of the instructions in the racket, so Debbie figured the yelling was more instinctual than anything. No wonder Bishop Beiler had prayed for everyone’s safety this morning.
She’d caught sight of Alvin’s form on one of the wagons earlier, and now Paul Wagler was riding high on the next load of corn bundles. He appeared his usual cocky self as he stood balanced on top of the load as it bounded along. Every few seconds Paul would throw out his arms to maintain his balance. The man was clearly showing off. He even went so far as to jump around on one foot for a moment. Debbie gasped as she watched him. She didn’t care for the man, not in a romantic way, but she cared about his well-being. It would be an awful sight to see any man, even Paul Wagler, sail off into the blue from the top of that load. There could be no good end to such an incident.
Ida must have heard her gasp because she joined Debbie at the living room window. A pleased smile spread over her face. “Paul’s always been gut at such things.”
“You shouldn’t be admiring the man!” Debbie didn’t keep the alarm out of her voice. “You’re probably encouraging him. He’s showing off.”
Ida laughed. “Paul doesn’t need any encouragement, and he can’t see us from here anyway.”
That was true, but Debbie still stepped back from the window. She regarded Ida for a moment. She still had her gaze glued out the window. The words just kind of slipped out. “You still have feelings for Paul, don’t you, Ida?”
Ida didn’t even flinch. “It’s not like that, Debbie. Paul’s a decent man under all that showy stuff, but he’s not for me. I stopped pining for him a long time ago.” Ida sent a quick glance Debbie’s way. “Now, Paul and you—that’s another matter.”
Debbie forced a smile. “Sorry. I deserved that. Maybe we’d better go back to staying out of each other’s business.”
Ida nodded and a slight smile played on her face. “Perhaps so.”
Debbie looked away momentarily, but she jerked her head back when Ida screamed. The sound rent through the living room. Debbie leaned toward the window, searching the yard around the silo with a quick glance. She could see nothing but the wagons lined up, with the one Paul had been on now in place to unload. Everything was how it should be. What had disturbed Ida? Ida stood silent, frozen in place as Saloma and Verna ran into the room.
All at once, the thought of what wasn’t on the wagon went all the way through Debbie. Paul was gone! His place was empty on top of the high stack of corn sheaves.
“We must go help!” Ida’s voice finally screeched.
“What’s going on?” Saloma asked.
Since no further words came from Ida, Debbie said, “Paul must have fallen off the wagon. We saw him clowning around, and now he’s not up there anymore.”
“Help us, dear Hah!” Alarm rang all the way through Saloma’s voice. “That man!”
Ida’s voice trembled in a low whisper. “He’s hurt bad. I know he is.”
“Then we’d better go help!” Verna said.
Debbie leaned forward to peer out of the window. She agreed with Verna, but before she raced out there and made a fool of herself, she wanted to know whether Paul was really hurt. He’d never let them forget it if several of the women rushed out of the house to his aid, only to find him in perfect health and bent over with laughter somewhere behind the wagon. And the other men wouldn’t forget for a long time either. But then Debbie caught sight of several men running toward the wagon. And the men in the teams behind Paul’s wagon had wrapped their lines around the wooden trestles in front and leaped to the ground to run toward the huge chopper.
Clearly something was wrong. Saloma had obviously drawn the same conclusion. Her words were clipped. “Ida and Debbie, come with me. Verna you’re staying in here with the baby. If you want to do something, heat some more water on the stove. If nothing’s wrong, we’ll use it for something else later.”
Saloma’s words cut through Ida’s stupor. Without a sound she raced for Saloma’s bedroom and came out with a pile of sheets. Saloma took a quick glance toward Ida but made no protest. Debbie stayed close behind the two as they hurried out the front door and across the lawn. If she needed any verification that something serious had happened, it was by the silence that greeted the
m. Someone had shut off the tractor and, with it, the massive chopper. Bishop Beiler would never allow this in the middle of a day of silo filling, unless the need was grave or it was dinnertime.
Saloma and Ida were at a full run by the time they reached the first wagons. No men were in sight as they slipped between the wagons and into the open field near the silo. There the huddle of men became visible, with a few of them bent over on the ground, and several on their knees, apparently in prayer.
Paul must be really hurt, Debbie thought. That was the only explanation. But how was that possible? The fall from the top of the wagon was far, but didn’t seem to warrant this level of concern…unless perhaps he’d broken his neck. Debbie’s heart pounded as they drew closer. The men parted to allow Ida and Saloma through. No one said a word. The sight in front of them was answer enough. How it had happened, she couldn’t imagine, but Paul lay on his side, his arm mangled beside him. He was bleeding profusely.
“Call 911! Get an ambulance!” she screamed.
The form of Bishop Beiler took shape beside Debbie. He pulled on her hand and whispered in her ear, “Alvin already went.” Bishop Beiler pointed across the fields. “Do you know what should be done until they get here?”
The bishop was asking if she’d learned anything in the Englisha world that might be helpful. Debbie’s head was swimming. Besides, she had no medical training.
The bishop’s voice was insistent. “Think, Debbie. Is there anything you can do?”
“I’ll try,” she finally managed. She forced herself forward. Saloma had Paul’s head cradled in her arms as she murmured softly to him. “Don’t move now. Help’s coming. Don’t move.”
Ida was kneeling on the other side. Her hands lightly touched Paul’s bloodied left arm. The man’s eyes were glazed. Ida’s sheets lay heaped beside her.
Debbie grabbed one of them and ripped it into long streamers. This much she knew. She gave the first piece to Ida. “Wrap his arm up!”
Ida didn’t move.
“Ida! Now!”
“But I’ll hurt him.” Ida’s voice sounded strangled.
“You’ll hurt him worse if he bleeds out,” Debbie said, kneeling beside the two.
That seemed to spur Ida into action. She wrapped the cloth around the bloodied arm.
“Tighter!” Debbie commanded. She didn’t want to sound harsh, but Ida’s caring spirit got in the way of what needed to be done. This would at least stop the blood loss.
Ida pulled tighter on the sheet even when Paul groaned and rolled his eyes. When the third piece of sheet had been used, the bleeding seemed to slow.
Debbie picked up another sheet, but paused when the sound of sirens pierced the distance. The medics would likely take off what they’d put on Paul anyway. The problem now was shock. That she also remembered. Paul should be kept warm. Debbie threw two of the sheets over his body.
If she had to make a guess, Paul’s mangled arm was not repairable, but then she wasn’t a doctor. Perhaps Paul would be spared the humiliation and agony of the loss of an arm. A lost limb was no small matter among the Amish, where physical labor was a necessity.
The sirens wailed to a halt behind them. Soon two men appeared with a gurney. They brought it to Paul’s side. Several of the men offered to help, but the two medics waved them away. A woman who was with them patted Ida on the arm while Paul was transferred to the gurney. “Looks like you did a good job controlling his bleeding.”
“That was Debbie,” Ida said, nodding in her direction.
The woman gave Debbie a brief glance. “Any family going with us?”
There was silence for a moment. None of Paul’s family was here, but someone should go with him. But who? All the men were needed to continue the day’s work. It must go on, Debbie was sure. And men weren’t of much use at hospitals anyway. Should she offer? Surely she could overcome her dislike for Paul enough to aid him in his injured state. But before she could speak, Ida whispered, “I’ll go. I’m not family, but… ”
Both Bishop Beiler and Saloma nodded without hesitation.
The two paramedics slid the gurney with Paul into the ambulance. The woman medic got in front. Ida climbed in, and the ambulance sped down the driveway and out onto the road, siren blaring.
The silence was broken by Bishop Beiler. “What exactly happened here?”
“I was driving the wagon,” Joe’s younger brother Virgil offered. His voice trembled. “We hit a rut hard coming in, and the next thing I knew Paul was flying through the air over my head. I’m sorry. I should have been more careful.”
“You’re not to blame,” Bishop Beiler said. “Wagons hit ruts all the time, and we have to expect that. So what happened then? Did Paul fly into the belt?”
“Yah.” Virgil looked at the ground. “He hit on his stomach and was pulled toward the wheel.”
Bishop Beiler’s voice was sober. “This could have been much worse. Thankfully Da Hah has spared Paul’s life. I’m glad this accident didn’t happen because of any foolishness. Let’s pray for Paul now—that the doctors will have wisdom in repairing his arm and that Da Hah will give him grace to bear the pain.”
The hats came off the men’s heads as they all paused to bow in silent prayer. As Debbie joined in, she couldn’t help but think that the accident had indeed happened because of foolishness. But she wasn’t going to correct Bishop Beiler, especially in front of everyone. And apparently no one else who had witnessed Paul’s antics planned to offer a contrary opinion either. She caught a glimpse of Alvin standing toward the back of the group. He must have come back from making the phone call, but he’d wisely chosen to stay out of the way.
“Amen.” Bishop Beiler finished the prayer. “Let’s get back to work. Please be extra careful everyone. We mustn’t have another injury. Not this year—and not ever.”
Debbie followed Saloma back to the house as the roar of the machinery resumed behind them. Verna, her face pale, met them holding little Sarah Mae in her arms. Saloma stayed to fill Verna in on the details, while Debbie went back to the kitchen. Should she take the lemonade out now? The men would be even thirstier after the scare they’d been through.
She took the glasses and a dipper with her out the washroom door and set up inside Emery’s buggy. She dipped glasses of lemonade for the men on the wagons as they drove past. She would run over and hand the glasses up and receive hearty words of thanks from all of them. When she accumulated empty glasses, she hurried to the water pump by the barn, rinsed out the glasses, filled them again, and handed them out.
When Alvin came by, he gave her a weary smile but didn’t chat while he gulped down the lemonade. They couldn’t talk anyway. Not in this awful racket. Clearly Alvin had been affected by the tragedy, as they all had. He was right to maintain a sober attitude. But it would have been nice if he’d noticed how well she fit in today. She was an Amish woman now.
In contrast, Emery both noticed and complimented her. “That was gut work on your part, Debbie. Paul might have lost too much blood by the time the ambulance arrived if you hadn’t taken action.”
“Thanks.” Debbie lowered her head as she’d learned to do from watching when Amish women were complimented. Oh, if only those words had come from Alvin…
Twenty-One
Late Saturday afternoon Alvin drove his team of horses in from the field. As he neared the barn, Mildred walked out from the house and greeted him with a cheery, “Gut evening.”
Alvin pulled the team up short and returned her greeting. There was something about Mildred tonight that told him she was after something. He’d have to wait until she was ready to share it with him.
“Paul’s going to lose his arm,” Mildred said. “His mamm hasn’t left his side at the hospital since the night of the accident.” Mildred regarded him for a moment. “Did you see it happen, Alvin?”
Maybe that was what Mildred wanted. Details… gossip. But that seemed a bit beneath her. He shook his head. “I was several wagons back. But he fell into the be
lt from the top of the wagon when Virgil hit a big rut right in front of the chopper.”
“Ida went with Paul to the hospital.” Mildred sounded interested.
Alvin gave her a perplexed glance. “What’s wrong with that? Someone had to go with him until the family could arrive. It wouldn’t have been decent not to.”
Mildred returned a sly smile. “I’m just surprised Debbie didn’t grab the chance.”
Alvin gave her a glare. “That’s not fair, Mildred. Debbie wouldn’t have gone unless there had been no one else. And even then… ”
Mildred’s smile sweetened at once. “Yah, that was very naughty of me, Alvin. I’m sorry. It just slipped out. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
Alvin didn’t look convinced.
Mildred continued. “Alvin, would you like to come down tonight for supper at the dawdy haus? I’ve fixed a little extra, and there’s no reason for you to sit and eat alone in that big house.”
Alvin hesitated. He wouldn’t see Debbie this weekend, so there shouldn’t be anything wrong with his acceptance. Not that there was anything wrong with supper at the dawdy haus, even on the Sundays when he took Debbie home. But it might get complicated if Debbie found out he’d eaten Mildred’s food the evening before. But surely Debbie would understand. Just like Debbie had understood his explanation about Mildred’s presence on the farm. Debbie trusted him.
“Yah, I’ll come.”
“I’ll look forward to it then.” Mildred glowed and dashed off.
Alvin’s gaze swept down the road to where a buggy was fast approaching. Who would come by this late in the day? As the buggy neared, Alvin caught a glimpse of the man inside and drew in his breath. Deacon Mast! What did he want? Hopefully not more conversation about his supposed attraction to the Englisha world. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be gut. Alvin jumped down from his wagon and waited while Deacon Mast arrived and pulled up. He got out and tied his horse to the hitching post.
Finding Love at Home (The Beiler Sisters) Page 14
