“I have more cookies,” Bridget said, and she held up a plate of chocolate chip cookies for Sovilla’s older daughter to see.
“Go on,” Sovilla said, and she put Becca back on the ground. “You love cookies.”
Sovilla watched her daughters silently for a moment while they munched on cookies with Bridget, then she glanced over at Elizabeth.
“They do like Johannes,” Sovilla said. “He’s very sweet with them.”
“I’m sure they’ll grow to love him,” Elizabeth replied, and she felt an unexpected lump rise in her throat. This should have been her sister’s wedding. She swallowed and forced a smile. “Why don’t you put on the dress and I’ll see what I can do to make it fit better.”
Sovilla left the room, her toddler following her with a cookie in hand. A couple of minutes later Sovilla came back into the room wearing a new blue dress. Iris trailed after her, munching on the cookie contentedly. Elizabeth could see right away what the problem was—the hem was two inches too long and it needed to be taken in at the sides. But it could be done, and it wouldn’t take long. She reached for a pincushion and beckoned Sovilla closer.
“I can fix this up for you in no time,” Elizabeth said. “Here. I’ll pin up the hem and show you where I’m taking it in and you’ll see what I mean—”
Elizabeth turned the hem under, leaned back to get a better look, and then readjusted it before she pinned it in place and continued around the dress.
“This is very kind of you to help me,” Sovilla said. “I appreciate it.”
“It’s nothing,” Elizabeth replied. “I’m happy to help. Everyone enjoys a wedding.”
It wasn’t entirely true, but Elizabeth was determined to make it true with the force of her will.
“I remember helping a woman who was new to Edson get ready for her wedding before Rueben and I fell in love,” Sovilla said. “I was helping her make the gifts she’d give to the guests—tying ribbons, I believe. I spent hours with her in her happiness. I hated her.”
“I don’t believe that!” Elizabeth said, looking up.
“I didn’t truly hate her, but I was jealous,” Sovilla said. “I’m not accusing you of such base emotion. I’m just saying that I really do appreciate your kindness right now.”
“I like you,” Elizabeth said quietly. “I honestly do. And I didn’t want to, because of the situation with my sister, but you’re very nice, and I’m glad you’re here. If someone had to marry Johannes, I’m glad it’s you.”
Sovilla smiled. “You mean that, don’t you?”
“I do.” Elizabeth nudged Sovilla to make her turn so that she could pin the back of the dress. A faint ringing sound came from the kitchen, and Elizabeth straightened. What was that?
It rang again, and Elizabeth put the last pin in place, then stood up.
“Bridget, what is that?” Elizabeth asked.
Bridget opened some drawers, then pulled out the cell phone the bishop had given them for safety. Elizabeth looked down at it, then flipped it open. She put it up to her ear.
“Yah. Hello?” she said awkwardly.
“Lizzie? That you?”
“Daet?” She pulled the phone away from her face and looked down at it. The battery sign showed almost empty. “Daet, is that you?”
“Yah, it’s me.”
“Where are you?” she asked. “And how did you get this number? What’s going on?”
“I stopped to see the bishop on the way out of town,” her father replied. “He gave me this number so I could reach you if it was an emergency, and . . . it is.”
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “Where are you, Daet?”
“At the Erindale Hospital,” he replied. “I’m fine—but I found your sister.”
“You . . . you found her?” Elizabeth nearly dropped the phone, and she pressed her other hand against her ear to hear better. “What’s going on? Is she okay?”
“She was in an accident. She’s been in the hospital for a week,” her father replied. “I found a mission where she was staying for a few weeks last year, and they said she left. I didn’t know what to do, so I asked the police if they could help me, and they had her in their system—well, a woman of her description, at least. She was at a hospital, and the hospital was looking for her family. I don’t even know why I thought to ask at that police station—Gott must have nudged me. But I found her, and she’s ready to be discharged, and . . .” There was a fuzzing sound.
“Hello?” Elizabeth said, spinning in a circle. She walked closer to the door. “Hello?”
“Lizzie?” Her father’s voice came back. “It’s bad reception. Just come! Erindale Hospital. Give them Lovina’s name and they’ll tell you what room. Bring her some clothes to wear—she can’t wear what she’s got. Get Isaiah and come!”
Her father’s voice went fuzzy again, and after trying repeatedly to get the reception back, she hung up, her mind spinning. Lovina was there—did she want to come home? Or was this just a chance to see her before she left for her Englisher life? Elizabeth wished she knew, but regardless, she’d take the chance to see her sister at least one more time....
Bridget and Sovilla were both staring at her.
“That was Daet,” Elizabeth said feebly. “He found Lovina . . .”
Bridget’s eyes widened. “Where?”
“She’s at Erindale Hospital. I don’t know what happened. But they’re ready to send her home, and Daet wants me and Isaiah to come.”
Sovilla stood where Elizabeth had left her, her dress pinned up, and her arms limp at her sides. She licked her lips, then nodded.
“I think the wedding might be off, then,” Sovilla said softly.
“Oh, Sovilla—” Elizabeth only then realized what this would mean to her. “I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t know if she’s coming home, or if this is just my chance to see my sister. I have no idea—”
Sovilla nodded. “Will you bring Johannes with you?”
Would she? Elizabeth felt the weight of the moment sink down around her. This was the chance she’d been waiting for—to make it all right, to turn back the clock. But looking into Sovilla’s pale face, she realized that nothing would go back to the way it was. There was no way it could.
“No,” Elizabeth said at last. “I think this is a family affair.” She looked helplessly toward Bridget. “Do you think your neighbor would drive me to my brother’s work?”
“I think he would,” Bridget said. “You go on . . . I’ll see what I can do with the dress. I’m sure Sovilla and I can manage something between the two of us.”
Elizabeth stepped into her shoes and pushed out the door, but when she looked over her shoulder, she saw tears in Sovilla’s eyes. Lovina had left and everything changed. Now Lovina was found . . .
Elizabeth angled her steps in the direction of the Englisher neighbor next door.
She’d worry about the fallout after she saw her sister.
Chapter Nineteen
The Livingstons were very understanding about the emergency. The older man offered to bring her to her brother’s home and then drive them both to the Erindale Hospital twenty miles away.
“It’s no problem,” he said earnestly. “Really. Bridget does more for us than we ever do for her. I don’t think we’ve had to buy a single piece of produce over the summer in five years—she just brings it over in baskets. I’m glad to drive you there. It lets us feel like we’re giving back a bit.”
Isaiah sat in the front seat, Elizabeth in the back. She’d packed up some clothes for her sister to wear: a dress, socks, shoes, some underthings, and a fresh kapp all together in a plastic bag. What had happened to her Englisher clothes? Had they been ruined in the accident? Or did her daet just want her back in some proper Amish clothing to make her look like his daughter again? Elizabeth sat in the back seat, that plastic bag on her lap, her heart in her throat.
They’d get a taxi back to where Isaiah had his buggy parked that evening, and Isaiah’s father-in-law would
give the horses some extra feed and water before he left. They had plans in place.
Daet had found Lovina . . . It was a miracle, really. Elizabeth and Isaiah had looked for their sister—asked the police for help, written letters to some places they’d heard runaway Amish went—but they’d heard nothing back. And what were they supposed to do—pick a city and wander the streets? And yet she’d been relatively close by all this time—Erindale was hardly even a city by Englisher standards.
Elizabeth fought back some tears. She’d missed her little sister over the last year. She’d prayed for her safety, worried over what might be happening to her, and waited for a break like this one. But now that they were on their way, she had to wonder . . . Lovina hadn’t written or sent any kind of message to let them know that she was all right. Would she even want to see them? Had she cut off Elizabeth and Isaiah at the same time as their father?
Lovina could have written. She’d chosen not to . . .
The scenery swept past and her stomach quivered with nausea. How Englishers traveled like this on a regular basis, she had no idea. The speed itself always upset her stomach, and the musty smell of a car’s interior didn’t help.
When they arrived at the sprawling hospital, Isaiah thanked Bridget’s neighbor sincerely, and when he offered to drive them back again, Isaiah turned him down.
“Thank you,” he said, “but we don’t know how long we’ll be. We’ll get a taxi back. I have some money to pay for it. But thank you for this kindness. Gott bless you.”
When the car pulled away, Elizabeth stood there with the plastic bag of clothes in one hand and anxiety mounting in her chest.
“Come on,” Isaiah said. “Daet said to ask for her by name, right?”
“That’s what he said.”
“Then we do that.”
The building was painted white, and various signs pointed people in different directions, for a Windo Wing, or the Geraldine Cardio Ward. So many signs with medical terminology that just melted together into an anxiety-inducing puddle. An ambulance arrived—no sirens or particular hurry—and stopped and unloaded an older gentleman from the back. He climbed down with some help and they got a wheelchair and sat him in it. Elizabeth stepped out of their way and scanned the signs until her brother nudged her shoulder and marched off toward wide glass doors.
She followed him and, once inside, there was a small desk area. There was a gift shop to one side with flowers, balloons, some little teddy bears, and a magazine stand. A coffee shop that seemed to attract most of the people there, many of whom were wearing hospital scrubs and looked tired, accepting their lidded, cardboard cups with a grateful smile.
“Excuse me,” Isaiah said at the desk. “I’m looking for my sister, Lovina Yoder. My daet said that she’s here?”
“Let me check,” the woman said with a brisk smile. She nodded. “Yep. She’s upstairs on the third floor, room number 3511. If you take that elevator up and follow the signs to the Windo Wing, you’ll find her room.”
“Thank you.”
Isaiah seemed more confident than Elizabeth felt, and they headed to the elevator. They were crammed in with several other people, two of whom were patients in wheelchairs, and they got off on the third floor as directed. Elizabeth had lost track of where they were—everything looked the same—white- and tan-colored, metal doors all looking the same unless you looked at the numbers on them. Some people were in wheelchairs, and they scooted themselves down the hallway in hospital robes and sock feet. There were a few different reception desks that Isaiah strode past, but he stopped when they spotted Daet.
He stood by a window, his hands clasped behind his back, his straw hat on his head, and standing out from the rest of the hospital as starkly as possible.
“Daet?” Isaiah called.
Their father turned and smiled and headed toward them.
“Where is she?” Elizabeth asked.
Daet gave them each a hug and then put up a hand to stop them when Isaiah moved toward the nurse’s desk.
“Wait, Isaiah—” Abe caught his arm. “It’s not so simple. She’s been in a bad accident and she was hurt.”
“How bad?” Elizabeth breathed.
“Bad enough. She hit her head,” Abe said. “And she got bruised up and some scrapes. So physically, she’s not too bad. But the hit on the head, it—” He swallowed. “They called it post-traumatic amnesia. She doesn’t remember us.”
Elizabeth stared at her father, stunned. “What?”
“It’s a temporary condition, the doctor says,” Abe said. “But physically she’s fine, so they need to send her home. And someone needs to pay her bill. Every day she’s here it only costs more. They say her memory should come back soon enough.”
“She didn’t know you?” Isaiah asked, and he looked past their father toward the room numbered 3511.
Abe shook his head. “She doesn’t remember anything—her name, her life, her friends . . . her family.”
Nothing . . . Elizabeth felt her heart hammer hard in the center of her chest. Her sister remembered nothing . . . Nothing good, and nothing bad either. Their father’s incarceration would be gone, too, then. Her mind was spinning.
“What do we tell her?” Isaiah asked. “Do we explain who we are and—”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” Abe said, cutting him off. “I think we should tell her that we’re her family. That’s all. Nothing more. Did you bring her clothes?”
“Yah.” Elizabeth lifted the bag. “Right here.”
“Good.” Abe sucked in a breath.
“We don’t tell her that she’s had an English life?” Elizabeth asked. “What if there’s someone worried about her?”
“It’s been a week,” Abe replied. “If they haven’t tracked her down yet, how much do they care?” He sighed. “Look, she left because of me, right? Well, what if she gets a chance to come home without any of those painful memories? What if she could just come back and we could help her remember her Amish life?”
Elizabeth exchanged a look with her brother. It wasn’t a bad idea.
“Do we know anything about her Englisher life?” Elizabeth asked. “Are there any clues with her belongings?”
“No. That’s why they couldn’t find anyone to come get her,” Abe replied. “She had some cash on her, and that’s about it.”
“Can we see her?” Isaiah asked.
“Yah, but let’s be careful what we tell her,” Abe replied. “Do you agree?”
Elizabeth and Isaiah exchanged a look.
“Do we?” Abe asked.
Elizabeth was silent for a moment, her mind sorting through these strange facts. Her sister had a chance to start over without the burden of their father’s guilt. Was it a lie simply not to tell her?
“What about Johannes?” Elizabeth asked. “Not everything is the same back in Bountiful. He’s marrying Sovilla—”
“Then we don’t tell her about him,” Isaiah said.
“And if he sparks a memory?” Elizabeth asked.
“Her memory will come back eventually,” Abe interjected. “We do want her to heal, don’t we? This is just temporary.”
They were silent again.
“Do we agree, then?” Abe asked again.
“Yah,” Elizabeth said. “We agree. Where is she now?”
“She’s in the room. She was resting,” Abe replied.
“Let me go in first,” Elizabeth said. “If she doesn’t know us, I think a woman would be less alarming for her.”
Isaiah nodded, and Elizabeth brushed past her brother and headed for the room. She knocked softly on the door and then pushed it open. There were two beds in the room, but only one was occupied. Lovina seemed to have woken up, because she was sitting up in the bed, her blond hair hanging loose around her shoulders. Lovina always had been petite, and she looked smaller still in that blue hospital gown. She looked up when Elizabeth came inside.
“Lovina . . .” Elizabeth said, and she couldn’t help the tears that spra
ng to her eyes.
“Who are you?” Lovina asked in English.
“You don’t remember me?” Elizabeth said in Dutch. She wanted to see if Lovina would notice the switch in language, and she went to the bed and was about to sink onto the side of it when she was stopped by the look on Lovina’s face. So she stood instead. “Think . . . really think . . . Am I familiar at all?”
Lovina frowned, then shook her head. “I don’t remember anything. Everyone keeps telling me to think really hard, but I don’t remember any of it, okay? So just tell me—who are you?”
Lovina had answered in Dutch, and Elizabeth felt a rush of relief.
“I’m your sister,” Elizabeth said and she swallowed. “You always called me Lizzie.”
“Oh.” Lovina looked over Elizabeth’s shoulder, and Elizabeth turned to see her brother and father come into the room, too.
“That’s Isaiah, our brother,” Elizabeth said. “And Daet, of course.”
“So he says,” Lovina said woodenly.
“We’re your family,” Elizabeth said softly. “We’ve been worried sick about you! We’ve come to bring you home.”
“Where’s home?” Lovina asked.
“Bountiful,” Elizabeth said. “Well, just outside of Bountiful. We—” She looked over at her brother, thinking fast. “You live with Isaiah right now. I’m staying with an older woman who needs some extra help, but I’ll be moving back with Isaiah soon, too. Daet is there, but just temporarily.”
“It’s a tight squeeze,” Isaiah said.
Well, where else were they supposed to bring Lovina—to Uncle Mel and Aunt Rose? Their uncle had already made it clear that he didn’t like having them all staying there.
“It is a tight squeeze,” Elizabeth said, forcing a smile. “But it’s home . . .”
Lovina shrugged weakly. “At least I have a family. There was a nurse who suspected I might be Amish.”
“Oh?” Elizabeth said hopefully.
“Something about the way I talk,” Lovina said.
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