The Middlefield Family Collection

by Kathleen Fuller

  She couldn’t speak. Once she said her medication out loud, the doctor would know. She glanced at Sawyer, taking in his confused expression. “Grandmother?”

  She looked away. “L-dopa.”

  The doctor frowned. “You have Parkinson’s?”

  She swallowed and looked at Sawyer. His mouth had dropped open. She glanced back at the doctor and lifted her chin. “Yes,” she said, her voice trembling nearly as much as her hands. “I have Parkinson’s.”

  Almost two hours later Sawyer and Cora were in a taxi headed back to Middlefield. He looked at his grandmother, who was facing the passenger window, her back almost to him. He clenched his jaw. Parkinson’s. Why hadn’t she told him?

  He hadn’t said anything to her in the emergency room. He knew better than to embarrass her publicly like that. And they weren’t going to discuss it in the taxi either, even though he was itching to find out why she had kept her illness a secret. But he was determined: when they returned home, she was going to tell him everything.

  He followed her cue and watched the landscape pass by as the taxi zoomed down the road. He didn’t know a lot about Parkinson’s, but he knew it was debilitating and that there wasn’t a cure. It explained her fatigue, her slower movements . . . and her desperation.

  He closed his eyes, his heart aching. In the short time he’d known her, she had been so strong. An iron lady. But now . . . how would they deal with this?

  When they arrived back home, he helped her out of the car, paid the taxi driver, and watched as she struggled with her crutches. When he offered to carry her, she balked.

  “Please. I’m not an invalid.”

  “I know that. But you’re not used to crutches either.”

  She gripped the crutches and tried to balance herself on the gravel driveway. She nearly slipped as she took her first step.

  “Could you put your pride away for five minutes and let me help you?”

  Then she looked at him. It wasn’t pride he saw in her eyes. It was fear. He went to her and held out his arm.

  “At least lean on me.”

  She looked at his crooked arm, then handed him the crutch. She slipped her thin arm through his, and they slowly made their way toward the house. When they reached the porch steps, he picked her up. She didn’t complain.

  Anna opened the front door. “Is it broken?”

  “Sprained.” He took Cora to the couch and set her down. She weighed next to nothing.

  “Thank you.” She didn’t look at him as she spoke.

  “I fixed up the small storage room in the back of the haus,” Anna said. “You won’t have to worry about the stairs.”

  “A storage room?” Cora closed her eyes. “Seriously?”

  “Grandmother.” Sawyer sat down next to her. “It’s the best we can do. I’m sure it’s very nice.”

  “I need to make a phone call.” Cora opened her eyes. “My cell is upstairs, but it’s dead.”

  “There’s the call box outside,” Sawyer said. “Who do you need to call? I can make it for you.”

  “My travel agent.” She turned her steely gaze on him. “I’m going home.”

  “No, you’re not. Not with your ankle. And not with—”

  “Parkinson’s. You can say it out loud, you know.”

  “Apparently you can’t.”

  Cora sneered. “How dare you judge me about how I handle my illness? I should sue that doctor for breach of privacy.”

  She was right; he had no place judging her. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Sawyer asked, gentling his tone.

  “I was going to. I was even going to use it, if I had to coerce you into coming back with me.” She paused and looked away. “But I couldn’t do it. I didn’t want your pity.”

  “I don’t pity you.” Sawyer moved closer. “I want to help.”

  She looked back at him. “Then, please, return with me to New York. I don’t know how much longer I have. My—our—company needs you.”

  He swallowed. “I—I can’t.”

  But the words were harder to say this time. Before, he had refused because he was protecting his freedom to live the life he wanted. Now he just sounded selfish.

  He looked up at Anna, who had wisely kept quiet during the conversation. But he didn’t miss the shock in her eyes.

  Cora leaned against the cushions. “I see.”

  The two simple words pierced him.

  “Is Parkinson’s cancerous?” Anna asked.

  Cora looked at her like she was a fool. “No. It’s not cancer. But it’s incurable. And over time—”

  “Over time, that’s the key,” Sawyer said. Somehow he had to fix this. Make it work for both of them. “Cora, you don’t have to go back to New York. We can take care of you here.”

  “You can’t. I saw your hospital. Primitive, to say the least.”

  “Now, that’s not right, or fair.” Sawyer scratched his forehead. “The Cleveland Clinic is an hour from here. It’s one of the best hospitals in the world. We can get you the treatment you need there.”

  “You’re asking me to stay here? With you?”

  He looked at Anna. She nodded and sat on the opposite side of Cora. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you need. Or want.” She took Cora’s hand. “You’re familye.”

  Cora didn’t say anything. Her bottom lip trembled. Finally she spoke. “What I need is to go home.”

  CHAPTER 21

  “Smells appeditlich,” Katherine said as she walked into the kitchen.

  “Sounds like you got your appetite back.” Mamm placed a pot of soup on the table. “You’ve been surviving on toast and tea for the past two days.” She went to Katherine, scanning her face. She smiled. “You have some color to your cheeks too.”

  “I am feeling better.” She sat at the table as Bekah brought over a plate of sliced bread. “Maybe I’ll geh back to work tomorrow.”

  “Don’t rush it.”

  Daed came in from the barn and washed up at the kitchen sink. “Rush what?”

  “Work. There’s plenty of time for that.”

  “Right.” Daed rubbed his hands together. “I’m starving, and this all looks gut.”

  They bowed their heads for silent prayer. When they finished, her father passed around the plate of warm bread slices. Katherine took one, slathered a thick layer of butter on it, and wolfed it down.

  After supper Katherine helped Bekah and Mamm clean the kitchen. She had just hung the dishtowel up to dry when someone knocked on the front door. “I’ll get it,” Bekah said.

  “Are you expecting anyone?” Katherine asked her mother.

  Mamm wiped the last of the crumbs off the table but didn’t look up. “Nee.”

  Bekah walked into the kitchen, her light brow furrowed. “It’s for Katherine. You won’t believe who it is.”

  “Johnny?” The name slipped out. She glanced at her mother.

  “I certainly hope not.”

  “David Esh,” Bekah said.

  Mamm stepped forward, suddenly smiling. “The bishop’s gross-sohn?”

  “Ya.”

  “What does he want?” Katherine asked.

  “Why don’t you find out?” Her mother gave her a small shove toward the door. “Don’t keep him waiting.”

  Katherine entered the living room to see David standing by the door, holding a brown paper bag in his hand. “Hi,” he said, his normally booming voice sounding restrained.

  “Hi, David.” She peered at him, remembering how disappointed and impatient he had been with her at the volleyball game last year. “What are you doing here?”

  “I heard you weren’t feeling well.” He held out the bag. “Ice cream. Thought you might like some.”

  “Danki.” She took the bag from him and peeked inside. “Vanilla.”

  “I was gonna get chocolate, since maed seem to like chocolate. A lot.” He gave her a small smile. They stood there for a moment. “We should probably eat it,” he said. “Before it melts.”

  We? Was this
something else she didn’t remember? Surely she didn’t have two guys interested in her.

  “You probably think it’s seltsam that I’m here. But when I heard you weren’t hung up on Johnny anymore—”

  “What?”

  He took a step forward. “I figured you wouldn’t mind me dropping by.”

  “I, uh . . .”

  “I always thought you were pretty, Katherine.” David took another step closer. His breath smelled like mint, as if he’d just chewed a piece of gum. He leaned forward, his smile turning from shy to borderline lecherous. “After the ice cream we can geh for a walk. Just you and me.”

  “David,” Bekah said, coming into the living room. “Nice to see you.”

  “Bekah.” Annoyance entered his tone. He looked at Katherine. “So. How about it?”

  “Katherine’s still not feeling all that great. I’m sure whatever you planned can wait.” Bekah smoothly angled him toward the door. “We’re not supposed to let her get too tired.”

  “Eating ice cream’s not gonna wear her out.”

  “You brought ice cream? That’s so sweet of you.” She opened the door and practically shoved him outside. “We’ll see you later, when Katherine’s feeling better.”

  “But—”

  “Bye!” Bekah shut the door and leaned against it for a second. Then she took the bag from Katherine. “What kind did he bring you?”

  “That was rude.”

  “A little. But you’re glad I got rid of him, ya?”

  She nodded. “I’m not sure why he was here in the first place.”

  “Well . . .” Mamm came into the living room, twisting the dishrag in her hands. “I might have told a couple of mei friends that you were . . . available.”

  “Mamm!”

  “I didn’t think it would cause any harm. And you are available. I didn’t even know David Esh was interested in you.”

  “David Esh is interested in everyone,” Bekah said. “He has a bit of a reputation.”

  “He does?” Mamm gasped. “I don’t believe it.”

  “Trust me. I just saved Katherine a whole world of pain and suffering. Now, how about we dig into that ice cream?”

  “Help yourself,” Katherine said, collapsing on the couch. “You earned it.”

  Bekah left the room. Mamm sat down next to Katherine. “I’m sorry about David coming by here unannounced. But I’m not sorry I said something to mei friends. I know you have this bu Isaac now—”

  “Mamm. Please. I don’t even remember him.”

  “But you can’t put your eggs in one basket. You’ve wasted enough time doing that.”

  Bekah came back in the room, ice cream piled high in a huge bowl. “Found this in the stack of mail in the kitchen.” She handed Katherine an envelope.

  “Another letter from Isaac?” Mamm asked.

  Katherine nodded.

  “It’s only been two days since the last one,” Mamm said. She rose and smiled. “He must be writing you every day. See what happens, Katherine, when you give other people a chance?”

  Katherine didn’t respond. Anything she said would fall on deaf ears. Mamm didn’t seem to care who wanted to court her, as long as it wasn’t Johnny Mullet.

  Bekah took her ice cream outside while Katherine went upstairs. She looked at the letter for a long time, unsure about opening it. Shouldn’t she be eager to read the contents? Finally she opened it to find another letter almost identical to the last one, except for a little more detail about the alpaca farm he and his father were working. Once again he invited her to write him back.

  Instead she put the letter back in the envelope and went downstairs.

  Her father had come back inside and was seated in his chair in the corner of the room. An open newspaper lay on his stomach, which slowly lifted up and down with his soft breathing. She tiptoed past him.

  “Katherine?”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

  He sat up in the chair and folded the paper. “I’d just drifted off. Who was here earlier?”

  “David Esh.”

  His father frowned. “There’s something off with that bu.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “I’ve got a fifth sense about it.”

  Katherine chuckled. “I think you mean sixth.”

  “There’s the Katherine I’m used to.” Her father grinned. “Hon, you don’t need to be worrying about dating right now.” He became serious. “Have you remembered anything?”

  She shook her head.

  “Maybe you’re not meant to.”

  Katherine frowned. “Did something happen? In the past month, I mean? Something bad?”

  “Not that I know of. I’m not talking about forgetting anything bad. Just that maybe there are some memories that are okay to let go of.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Maybe instead of worrying about what you missed, you should focus on the future.”

  “What kind of future is that? To work at Mary Yoder’s for the rest of my life? To live with you and Mamm forever?” Or alone?

  “That’s not for me to say. Only God knows the future, Katherine. We just have to keep putting one foot in front of the other.”

  Through the front screen, the sound of a buggy pulling into the driveway caught their attention. Now what? She went to the window and looked outside.

  “Who is it?” her father asked.

  “Johnny.” She let the curtain fall. What could he possibly want?

  “Well. That’s interesting timing.”

  Johnny halted his horse, bringing the buggy to a stop. But he didn’t get out right away. He knew he wasn’t wanted here, at least by Katherine’s mother. But what if Katherine didn’t want him either? He suddenly remembered the guy at Mary Yoder’s who had asked her out. Isaac something, he couldn’t recall. What if things between her and Isaac were serious?

  She doesn’t owe you an explanation.

  He thought about what Mary Beth said a couple weeks ago. About being too late with Katherine. While that always had been in the back of his mind, he never thought he’d really have any competition for her affection. Or that he could possibly lose her to someone else.

  Hochmut. Nothing but pride.

  What a fool he was.

  How could he make up for the pain he caused her? For the first time he understood how she really felt. How much it had to hurt to know someone you loved was out of reach, possibly forever. He had never tried to put himself in her place before. Now he’d been forced there, and the guilt and regret overwhelmed him.

  Somehow he would fix what was broken between them. He’d find a way not to lose her. Panic overtook him, the same panic he’d experienced when she fainted, the helplessness that consumed him when he saw her lying in the hospital bed, vulnerable and confused, unable to remember certain things. She’d been through enough. He had to put her first in his life.

  Something he should have been doing all along.

  He got out of the buggy and turned toward the house.

  Right now. Right here. This was the first step, the moment when everything changed.

  Katherine followed her father to the front porch. Johnny stepped up to meet them.

  “John.” He held out his hand. “What brings you by?”

  “I came to check on Katherine.” He shook her dad’s hand and looked at her. “How are you doing?”

  “Okay.”

  “Mary Beth sends her best. She said if you need anything, just let her know.”

  “Danki.” So he came to deliver a message from his sister. Still, that was more than he’d done in the past. “Tell her I appreciate it, but I know she’s busy getting ready for the boppli.”

  “Katherine, she already had the boppli. You were there when she was born.”

  She looked at her father, who gave her a sympathetic look. Then she faced Johnny. “What’s her name?”

  “Johanna. And she’s beautiful.”

  Just hearing Johnny talk about
his niece, his voice filled with love, made her melt inside. Illness might have taken her memory, but it hadn’t altered her feelings for him. “I can’t wait to see her again.”

  “We might be able to arrange that.”

  We? The word triggered a little thrill inside her. But it was just one word. One syllable. She couldn’t afford to read anything significant into it. She’d done that before too often.

  “Once burned, twice shy,” her grossmammi used to say. And Katherine had been burned far more than once. She pressed her lips together. “Danki for the message.”

  “That’s not the only reason I’m here.”

  Katherine’s vadder interrupted. “Well, I’ve got work to do. John, tell your folks hello for me.” He smiled at Katherine and went back to the barn.

  When he was gone, she turned to Johnny. “Why are you really here?”

  He took a deep breath. “I want to help you. I want you to get your memory back.”

  CHAPTER 22

  Johnny looked at Katie sitting next to him in the buggy. How right it felt having her near. He kicked himself for waiting so long, and for keeping her waiting even longer. “Danki for coming with me.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Back to mei place. I thought it might shake something loose in your memory.”

  “I don’t know.” She sighed. “Nothing else has worked.”

  “That’s because everything else is so familiar. I went to the library and did some reading about short-term memory loss.”

  “And it said to take me to your haus?”

  He grinned. “No, smarty-pants. It said that sometimes exposure to the familiar will trigger a memory.”

  “But I don’t remember your haus. And I’ve already been exposed to everything familiar and it hasn’t worked.”

  “I thought I’d try something different. Something unfamiliar but recent. It couldn’t hurt, and it might help.”

  “What are the chances of that happening?”

  He let out a breath. “Slim to none.”

  “But you’re willing to try anyway.”

  “Absolutely. And after we can geh visit Johanna.”