Running his hands through his hair, Paul struggled to find an answer. “I don’t know. I can’t get her out of my mind.”
Mark crossed his arms and leaned against the corner of the unfinished desk behind him. “What makes you think you have to get her out of your mind?”
“I feel like I can’t think straight. What’s wrong with me?”
“Offhand, I would say you are smitten with the woman.”
“I can’t be.”
Mark shook his head. “You’re going to have to explain that one to me.”
“She’s not anything like the girls I go out with.”
“Okay, right there is your difference.”
Paul frowned at his brother. “What do you mean?”
“Clara Fisher isn’t a girl. She’s a woman. She’s been married and widowed. She has children and one of them may die from a disease inherited from her mother. She might have been a girl at one time but she has been forged in the fire of life since then.”
Paul thought of all Clara had been through and wondered how she could still face life with such a stalwart attitude. “Rebecca said Clara needs a strong and steady man as a helpmate, not another boy.”
“Rebecca is probably right about that. She was widowed at a young age, too. She and Clara have a lot in common. Rebecca found love again and maybe Clara will, too. Paul, have you considered that you are looking at your feelings the wrong way?”
“How do you mean?”
“Instead of wondering if you are the right fellow or the wrong fellow or even if you should think about her as a potential mate, why don’t you just be her friend.”
“A friend?”
“Maybe she doesn’t want a strong and steady helpmate to replace the man she loved. Maybe she just needs a friend to lean on until things improve. Stop trying to make sense of your emotions. Stop making this about you. Instead, concentrate on helping Clara through this rough time. If she is meant to find a new husband, the Lord will provide that man for her when the time is right. Until then, I think she could use your help without worrying if there are strings attached.”
“But Rebecca said—”
Mark cut him off. “Rebecca is a wonderful person but she does have a tendency to meddle in other people’s business. Don’t let what she thinks influence you.”
Paul considered his brother’s words. “You’re right. I don’t have to make a decision about the rest of my life. I just have to help Clara when I can.”
“That’s right. I’ve known you to give a helping hand to a lot of folks. You’re not as frivolous as you like people to believe.”
“I appreciate you listening to me.” Paul picked up the sanding block he had tossed aside and handed it to Mark, then headed for the door.
“Where are you going?” Mark called after him.
“To finish my work at the King farm before Sophie comes home. Clara doesn’t need to see me counting each hammer and nail that should have been hers. Toby says it makes her sad, and that’s the last thing I want to do.”
* * *
Sophie improved slowly but steadily. Three days after her seizure, she was moved to a regular room on the pediatric floor. Clara was given a cot so that she could be with her daughter around the clock. It was a huge improvement over the uncomfortable recliner she’d been trying to sleep in.
On the morning of the fourth day, Clara woke to the sound of Sophie giggling. Clara lay still savoring the wonderful sound and giving thanks to God.
“Shh, we don’t want to wake your mamm,” a woman whispered.
Clara sat up and saw an older Amish woman standing next to Sophie’s bed. The two of them had on hand puppets. Sophie’s puppet was a raccoon. The woman held a long-eared dog puppet.
Sophie giggled again. “I’m quiet.”
“It’s too late—I’m awake.” Clara sat up and stretched.
“It’s about time,” the woman said. “Juliet and Clyde are hungry for some breakfast. Clyde is so hungry he is going to eat Sophie’s nose. Woof, woof, woof.” The dog puppet scaled Sophie’s arm, tweaked her nose then raced down her arm again.
The woman clapped her free hand to her cheek. “Oh, dear, what will you do without a nose, Sophie? You will never smell pancakes and bacon again.”
Sophie tentatively touched her face. “My nose isn’t gone, Charlotte. It’s right here. Mamm, see my puppets? Charlotte brought them for me to play with.”
“I hope you have thanked Charlotte.” Clara folded her blanket and tidied the cot.
“No thanks are necessary, dear. I am Charlotte Zook. My niece, Helen, is married to Paul’s brother, Mark. He was Clyde’s choice and a good one.”
Charlotte held up the dog puppet. “This is Clyde. Of course, it’s not the real Clyde but it does look something like him. However, my Clyde is much more beautiful and so very smart. This is the only dog puppet I could find with the long ears. Isn’t that sad? I must write a letter to the manufacturer and insist they add a basset hound. I wanted to bring Clyde—the real Clyde, not the puppet—but I couldn’t think of a way to get him into the hospital without being seen. They have the most ridiculous ideas about dogs not being clean enough to visit sick people. Why, they let people into animal hospitals all the time. Where is the sense in that?”
“I don’t know.” Clara had no idea where the conversation was going.
“Juliet would be much easier to smuggle in but I knew she didn’t want to spend the day away from Clyde. They get very unhappy if they are apart. Clyde has been known to howl all night long when she is gone. Have you heard about the time Juliet went missing and then Mark married Helen and Juliet returned with her new family so Clyde didn’t have to howl under Mark’s window anymore?”
Clara stared at the odd little woman wondering if she was quite all right. “I have not heard the story.”
“I must tell you all about it from the beginning.”
“Not now, Aenti Charlotte,” a young Amish woman said as she came in the door with a fast-food paper bag in one hand and a tray of coffees in the other. “I hope you like sausage biscuits, Clara. I’m Helen Bowman and you have met my aunt.”
“Oh, I love sausage biscuits,” Charlotte said. “Not as much as your croissants, of course. My niece is an excellent baker. She and Mark are starting their own bakery at Bowmans Crossing. I’m positive it will be a success. The smell alone will be wonderful in the mornings. I do miss those yummy aromas now that you and Mark have moved into your new home above the shop.”
“I thought you were going to move in with us soon. We talked about it, remember?” Helen set the food and coffee on the bedside table.
“Juliet has made up her mind. She wants to live near the woods on our side of the river. I rather like the blue lights Sophie uses, don’t you? They are very pretty. I understand you have to move out of your home, Clara. I have a tidy place two miles from Bowmans Crossing on the far side of the river. You are welcome to move in with me as long as you like dogs and raccoons. I think we will get along wonderfully well, don’t you?”
Clara wasn’t sure what to make of the woman’s offer. “I’ll have to think about it.”
Until now, Clara had refused to contemplate moving out of Eli’s house but she was being stubborn and foolish. She had to have a plan.
“Does Clyde like cats?” Sophie asked. “I have a cat named Patches. I miss her a lot.”
“Clyde loves cats and so does Juliet. How does Patches feel about raccoons?”
Sophie shrugged. “I don’t know.”
One of the nurse’s aides came in carrying a tray. “Good morning, Sophie. I hope you’re hungry this morning.”
Clara translated. Sophie shook her head. “Nee.”
The aide sighed heavily. “I guess I’ll leave it here. Perhaps she will feel like eating later.”
Clara crossed to stand by Sophie and
pushed the bank of blue lights aside. “Is there anything that sounds good?”
“Dog food with a side order of raccoon food, please.” Charlotte winked at the young woman and waved the puppet’s paw.
The aide chuckled. “I’ll speak to the kitchen right away.”
“Sit down, Clara, and eat your breakfast. The kaffi smells goot,” Charlotte said. “Helen and I are here to look after you today. Although I must say you look perfectly capable of looking after yourself. I’m not sure why Paul is so worried about you.”
Clara began to straighten her daughter’s bed. “Paul is worried about me? I think you mean he is worried about Sophie.”
“Nee, he particularly said Clara Fisher has a heavy burden to bear and we must help her carry it. That’s not at all like Paul. He has never asked me to help him carry anything before.”
Helen cleared her throat. “Aenti, you should eat your breakfast.”
“Not until after we feed Clyde and Juliet. They love eggs.”
Charlotte handed a spoon to Sophie and then positioned the dog puppet in front of her face. “It’s your turn to feed Clyde, Sophie.”
Sophie put a small amount of egg on the spoon and held it toward the dog. Charlotte moved the puppet aside, ate the offered egg off the spoon and then whipped the puppet back in front of her face. “Yum. Yum. Yum. This is wunderbar,” she said in a deep voice. The puppet rubbed his tummy.
“My turn.” Charlotte picked up a fork.
Sophie giggled and held the raccoon in front of her face. Charlotte offered a bite of egg to the puppet. Sophie moved Juliet aside and ate the egg then made the puppet nod. “This is fine food for a raccoon,” she declared in a high voice.
Clara, amazed at Charlotte’s successful strategy, took a seat beside Helen on the cot. She ate her biscuit and sipped her coffee as Sophie and Charlotte continued the game until all the scrambled eggs and half the oatmeal was gone.
Clara looked at Helen. “Your aunt is quite remarkable.”
“You have no idea. Wait until you meet the real Clyde and Juliet.”
“Did Paul actually say he wanted to help carry my burdens?” She tried to sound indifferent.
“I’m not sure those were his exact words, were they, Charlotte?”
Charlotte used the puppet’s paw to tap her temple. “Perhaps not his exact words but you know I often hear what people mean instead of what they say.”
Helen nodded slowly. “I thought that might be the case. Paul is concerned about you and about Sophie. He has had Toby helping him at the farm almost every day. The two of them are becoming inseparable.”
A warm glow settled in Clara’s chest. She tried to convince herself it was because she was thankful for the wonderful new friends she was making among Paul’s family but she finally had to admit the truth. It was because Paul cared.
Clara leaned closer to Helen. “Was Charlotte serious when she offered to let us live with her?”
“This is the first I have heard of it but I think she is. Would you consider it?”
“Only as a last resort. I don’t want to give up on Eli’s farm.”
* * *
The long days and nights at the hospital continued as Sophie gradually improved. Her biggest complaint was not getting to see Patches. She was convinced the cat was sad and crying for her. The time would have been unbearable without the cheerfulness of Anna, Charlotte’s nonsense, Helen’s kindness and the steady good sense of Rebecca and Lillian. Twice Anna brought Toby for a visit. He regaled her with stories of his time with the Bowman family. Paul let him help at the farm. Isaac took him fishing with his new friend Hannah, who could throw a ball as good as any boy. Paul let him harness Frankly and take care of Gracie.
Clara was happy Toby was enjoying himself but she wondered if her boy wasn’t headed for a heartbreak. After Sophie was dismissed and the farm sale was over, Paul wouldn’t have a reason to see the boy. Or to see her again. She didn’t dare examine why the thought brought her to the verge of tears.
Clara enjoyed meeting everyone from the Bowman family but as the days wore on, the warm glow in her chest faded. She was left to wonder why Paul hadn’t been back to visit.
Perhaps it was silly to want to see him but she couldn’t help herself. She missed his cheerfulness and his teasing ways. It would be nice if she and Paul could resume their friendship once she was home again.
It was just friendship they shared. Clara refused to admit her feelings were stronger than that. She had known the man for less than two weeks. Any dependency that she felt was only because of the unusual circumstances they were both in.
It made a convincing argument, so why wasn’t she convinced?
Perhaps Paul was seeing someone. Someone younger and without children. Without a complicated life. It was hard to imagine that an attractive and charming fellow like Paul didn’t have a girlfriend. Who was she? What was she like? Was she pretty?
Clara shook her head at her own foolishness. It was none of her business if Paul had someone special in his life or not. The best thing she could do was stop thinking about him.
On Friday morning, eight days after Sophie’s seizure, Clara received word that her child was being discharged. As much as she wanted to take her girl home, Clara was worried that Sophie’s bilirubin level would rise. She could try to keep her child under the lights longer at home but she knew she would have a fight on her hands once Sophie started to feel better.
There was a knock at the door and a young woman in street clothes came in. She was dressed in a modern style, in a simple gray skirt and a white blouse with a touch of gray lace at her throat. Her blond hair was cut short and danced in springy curls around her face. “Good morning. I’m Debra Merrick, one of the public health nurses in this county. I was asked to stop in and visit with you about meeting Sophie’s needs at home. I understand your daughter uses home phototherapy.”
“She does.”
Debra approached Sophie’s bed and introduced herself in halting Deitsch. She looked over her shoulder at Clara. “That’s almost the extent of my entire Amish vocabulary.”
“That’s not bad.”
“I work with many Amish families in the Bowmans Crossing area. One thing I do fairly often is help Janice Willard, the local midwife, to get blue lights into homes for infants with jaundice. Amish homes without electricity present a unique challenge.”
“I have a generator that runs through the night.”
“That’s good to know. I have not worked with a child Sophie’s age. How does she do with her lights? Does she turn them off or get out of bed to avoid them?”
“Not often but I know she’ll resent having to spend time under them at home when she feels like playing outside.”
“Since I began working with Amish mothers, I have developed a particular interest in alternative treatments. There is some new research out on this topic. One study in particular caught my interest. It was done in Nigeria, where many people have little or no access to electricity. The study found that jaundiced babies who were placed in filtered sunlight did as well or better than babies under traditional blue lights.”
“What do you mean by filtered sunlight?”
“A tent was constructed of a special clear plastic film that blocks the harmful rays of the sun and allows the blue light to come in. The babies didn’t get overheated or sunburned.”
“You think Sophie would benefit from this filtered light?”
“I do. As far as I know, studies haven’t been done on children her age but I think it is worth a try. Is it something you would like me to look in to?”
“What does the doctor say?”
“Truthfully, he scowled and said he didn’t know he was working in a third-world country. He hasn’t been out of school very long. He’ll learn that sometimes new ways aren’t always better. The good thing is that sunlight doesn’t require
a doctor’s prescription.”
“How do we get this special film and how much will it cost?”
“I’m not sure. Do you want me to find out?”
“Would this replace her blue lights at night? What about in the winter?”
“It won’t replace the blue lights but if it helps keep her levels lower longer, she might not have to spend as much time under the lights at night. We want to reduce the chance of brain damage until she can have a liver transplant.”
“So we are only stalling for more time.”
“That’s one way to look at it. A transplant is still Sophie’s only hope of a cure but we want to keep her brain healthy until that happens.”
How long before Sophie suffered a bad cold or the flu or had another accident that would lead to her death? How long could she keep her beautiful baby girl before she had to return her to God?
Sophie’s illness was God’s will, and Clara accepted that. Determination was His gift to Clara. She used it to see that Sophie lived every day that He allowed. “Find out how we can make a special tent.”
“Okay. I will be visiting Sophie at home once a week to see how things are going. I will also draw her blood for the lab studies if you agree to have a visiting nurse.”
“I do and danki.”
“When would be the best time for me to visit you next week?”
“Monday before noon, I think.”
“That sounds great. It will take at least an hour to get her paperwork done before she is discharged so don’t be in a rush.”
“We’ve waited this long. We can wait a little more.”
“Do you have a ride home?”
“I will need someone to drive us.”
“The hospital has a list of people who volunteer to drive Amish patients. I’ll have the nurse make arrangements.”
After Debra left, Clara tried to keep Sophie entertained but she quickly grew bored. “Mamm, can I have a Popsicle? My throat hurts.” It was her most frequent excuse for needing one. It was amazing how many sore throats had been cured by a single strawberry Popsicle.
His New Amish Family Page 10
