by Leslie Gould
“Amen,” Eve said.
He looked up, a confused expression on his face. “That was weird.”
Daniel frowned and Eve shook her head at him. Still her nephew asked, “Don’t you pray at home?”
“Well, yeah. Sometimes. But out loud. Not all quiet like.” As he speared a hotcake, the boy turned to Eve and asked, “What happened to my dad?”
“Your mother said he fell on the steps.”
The boy winced. “He was in the hospital and then rehab for three months.”
“I’m sorry,” Eve said.
The boy shrugged. Even sitting down, he was taller than the twins by several inches.
Lila leaned toward him across the table. “I’m sorry too. That had to have been hard on all of you.” She was the most sensitive of all the children.
The boy crossed his arms but his face softened some.
“How old are you?” Lila asked.
“Twelve. How about you?”
“Eleven.” She gestured toward her brother. “Daniel too.”
“Twins?”
Lila nodded.
“Cool.” The boy didn’t smile but Lila did. Grief washed over Eve again. Lila was so much like her mother. Beautiful. Compassionate. Trusting. Oh, Abra. If only you were here.
6
His truck lurched to the right as Charlie McCall drove down the rutted lane. He’d gotten an early start, just after six, but an accident on the turnpike had put him an hour behind. Hopefully Shani wasn’t raring to get the house put in order just yet.
Charlie’s muscles tightened as he gripped the steering wheel. It would bug Joel that he couldn’t help, which would make for a tense day for all of them. Charlie hoped this move to Lancaster County would be good for the Becks, but he wasn’t so sure. In fact, he feared the opposite.
But it wasn’t his decision or even his business. His duty was to be as supportive as possible.
“I will never leave a fallen comrade,” he said out loud into the misty morning. How many times had he recited that during his six years in the Army Reserve? He’d meant it every time.
Charlie was a medic—and Joel was still fallen. He wouldn’t leave his friend. Couldn’t leave.
Joel had been one of the AGRs—Active Guard Reserve—in their unit. Charlie was a weekend warrior, except during their deployment, but Joel had been full-time. Until he’d nearly had his leg blown off last May. Joel had been one of the best staff sergeants Charlie had ever known. A born leader. He would have done anything for his soldiers.
The radio crackled, and Charlie turned it up a little, hoping for a weather report. Instead it was the news. “ . . . one thousand ninety-one US soldiers have been killed in Iraq.”
Charlie snapped the radio off, thinking of the civilians who had been killed too, not to mention all the injuries. He didn’t want to think about it today. If only he could stop the memories of the soldiers he’d tried to save.
But Joel hadn’t died. The man had a wife who loved him and a son who had once idolized his father. Joel mourned being discharged from the service because of his injuries, but if he could just get through these next few months and figure out his life outside of the Army—even if it was as simple as being able to throw a football back and forth with Zane again—he would be all right.
Ahead a two-story house came into view. He exhaled in relief and whistled a few notes until he realized Shani’s van wasn’t anywhere in sight. Maybe she’d parked around back or in the shed. He stopped his truck, turned the key, and climbed down. He hoped it was the right house.
A folded quilt was on the doormat. He knocked, but when no one came, he stepped to the edge of the porch and peered in the window. The room was dark. He rapped on the window and yelled, “Joel!” Then, “Zane!”
No one answered. He tried the door. It swung open. He paused for a moment, then picked up the quilt and stepped inside, calling out, “Joel!” Again, nothing.
He pulled his phone from his coat pocket, flipped it open, and hit Joel’s number on speed dial. When nothing happened, he looked at the screen. No service. He put the quilt on the floor under the window, stepped back onto the porch, and pulled the door shut.
Maybe they’d gone out for breakfast. He’d drive back to the main road. Surely he’d be able to get service there.
He jumped back in his truck and headed up the lane, over the potholes, to the main road. He turned to the right and pulled over under a willow tree, opening his phone again. He had a message—from Shani.
Charlie froze as he listened and then groaned. Poor Joel. He stuffed his phone back into his pocket. First things first. He’d get Zane and then drive to the main road and call Shani back. A few minutes later he turned down the driveway to the neighbors and parked his truck. He wiped his palms on his jeans as he hurried up the steps to the front door.
After he knocked, he heard a child’s voice call out, “Auntie!” but with some sort of accent.
After a long minute, the front door opened. A boy stood in front of him wearing suspenders, a white shirt, and black pants. Amish.
“I’m looking for my friends’ son,” he said, but then Zane popped up from the floor.
“Charlie!” The boy hurried toward him. “Dad hurt his leg and Simon got kicked—”
“Who’s Simon?”
“Daniel and Lila’s brother. I scared the horse.” Zane’s chin began to quiver, and Charlie drew him close, glancing up as he did.
The Amish boy stood beside an Amish girl. In front of them was a younger girl. A woman, wearing an apron over a long dress and a white bonnet—or whatever it was called—stood behind them holding a baby. His grandparents had belonged to the Brethren Church, and his grandmother had worn a prayer veil over her white hair during church—but not anytime else.
This woman’s dark eyes were kind and striking under the bit of dark hair he could see. She had an old-fashioned beauty about her, with faint dimples, smooth skin, and a thin face.
“Ma’am,” Charlie said, nodding his head.
“Hallo,” she answered, stepping forward. “I’m Eve Lehman.” She extended her free hand, and he shook it, still holding onto Zane with his other.
“Pleased to meet you,” he said. “I’m Charlie McCall.”
The baby began to fuss, and the woman stepped back and started to sway. “I thought maybe you’d come with word about Simon—and Zane’s Dat—but it seems you haven’t been to the hospital yet.”
“That’s right,” he said. “I had a message. That’s why I came here—to get Zane.”
The woman nodded.
He glanced down. Clearly Zane felt horrible. Charlie looked back at the woman and said, “What happened?”
“One of the workhorses kicked Simon in the head,” she answered.
“I was just trying to be friendly.” Zane’s voice was muffled. “I didn’t see the horse, not at first.”
The woman’s eyes grew moist, and she stepped forward, putting her hand on Zane’s shoulder. He turned his head toward her. “Don’t despair,” she said. “You have our forgiveness, whatever happened. We all must trust God—that’s what is best.”
Zane swiped at his eyes but didn’t answer.
Charlie squeezed the boy’s shoulder, impressed with the woman’s words. “So they’re all at the hospital?”
She nodded. “The Englisch woman—”
“Shani,” he said.
“Denki.”
“Pardon?”
“Thank you.”
He nodded, realizing she’d spoken in their language.
The woman continued. “Shani drove. Tim rode with her.” She spoke above the little one’s cry. “Excuse me a minute,” she said. “I need to put the baby down for her nap.”
Charlie squeezed Zane’s shoulder. “Get your coat.”
“I don’t have one.”
“You can wear mine,” Charlie said, taking it off. “We’ll go straight to the hospital.”
Zane shook his head. “I don’t want to go.”
>
Charlie wasn’t sure how to answer.
“I hate hospitals.”
“Ahh,” he said. And no wonder. Shani hadn’t taken Zane to Germany with her when Joel was at Landstuhl, but he had gone to Texas when Joel had been relocated to Brooke Army Hospital. The three of them had been there for nearly two months. Charlie had gone down as soon as he could, once he was home from Iraq. He took Zane to the Alamo and the San Antonio Zoo to get him out of the hospital. Both Joel and Shani seemed to appreciate that. He was grateful he could be a friend to the whole family.
“Once we have cell service, we’ll call your mom and see what she wants us to do,” he said.
The woman returned, her arms empty.
“How old is your baby?” Charlie asked.
Her face reddened. “Eight months. But she’s not mine. She’s my niece. All of the children are my brother’s.”
“I see,” Charlie said, his face growing warm. He’d been so sure the woman was a wife and mother—although she did seem young to have so many children. “Let’s go, bud,” Charlie said to Zane. “So I can call your mom.”
The woman stepped toward them and asked, “Would you like a cup of coffee before you go?”
The Amish boy gave him a suspicious look, and Charlie wondered, for a moment, if it was appropriate for him to be in the house with Eve. He wasn’t looking to cause anyone any trouble, especially not a kind Amish woman who, it seemed, was single.
“Denki,” he said with a smile. “But we should get going.”
They said their good-byes and headed toward the front door. Although he’d grown up on a farm, he’d had a typical American childhood with all the latest gadgets and electronics, which meant Nintendo and Game Boys by the time he graduated high school ten years ago. But being in the Amish house made him think of his grandparents. They had a telephone in their home but no TV or even a radio. He’d often longed for a life like that growing up, but even more so after serving a year in Iraq.
7
Shani slipped her cell phone back into the pocket of her damp sweatshirt. Charlie and Zane were on their way.
She leaned against the hallway of the emergency department and wrapped her hands around the sides of her belly, stopping the shiver that threatened to run through her. She shouldn’t have left Zane at the Amish house. She’d been too focused on Simon and Joel to deny his request. True, he’d only been a little over fifteen minutes away, but it had still made her uneasy.
Charlie would be a distraction for Zane while they were at the hospital, but that too concerned her. Joel didn’t seem to notice that Zane and Charlie had been growing closer, while father and son drifted further apart. That was another reason she was sure the move to Lancaster County would be best for all of them. But now she wondered how Joel would handle another setback. He’d been so fragile since the attack. He wasn’t the man she’d married, not at all. He’d played football in high school. A year ago he was still running a six-minute mile. He was an expert shooter. Nothing in his previous life had prepared him for sitting in a wheelchair.
She wrapped her arms around her chest, resting them on her growing bump. She knew its visibility made Joel anxious. She hadn’t been careful when he’d been home on his furlough last April. If she’d known Joel was going to be injured she would have taken precautions, but the truth was she hadn’t been careful for years.
She shivered again and then stepped around the corner as the aide pushed the gurney through the curtain. “X-rays,” Joel said.
“Want me to go along?” She reached for his hand.
He squeezed hers and then let it slip away. “No. Rest until I get back.”
She nodded. But she wouldn’t rest; she’d get something to eat instead. She turned the opposite way of the gurney and then ducked into the far room of the ER. It took her a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim light.
Tim sat in the chair, his head in his hands. Simon was flat on his back on the gurney. The split along his jawline had been stitched. Faint purple bruises had begun to spread around it and under his left eye too.
Shani stepped around the side and addressed Tim. “How is he?”
“Sleeping,” Tim answered. He was a man of few words. He’d only answered her questions with a jah or a nee in the car.
At least Simon was breathing. “Do you know what the doctor ordered, as far as tests?” Shani asked.
Tim exhaled. “X-rays and something else.”
“An MRI?” Shani asked.
“Jah,” the man said. “That’s it.”
At the least Simon had a concussion. And a broken jaw. Thankfully his neck didn’t seem to be broken, but he could have bleeding in his brain. The MRI would determine that. He was lucky the horse had missed his mouth. Otherwise he’d have a bunch of broken teeth to deal with too.
Shani stepped toward the door. “I’ll check in a little later. After the MRI.”
The man didn’t respond.
She spoke to him directly. “I’m going to get a bite to eat. Care to join . . . me?” She regretted asking by the time the last word came out. The man looked downright uncomfortable. “Or I can bring you something.”
He stayed silent.
“I’ll be in the cafeteria. It’s on this floor.” Shani didn’t anticipate an answer from Tim, so she simply waved and stepped from the room. Her cell phone buzzed as she reached the waiting room, but when she pulled it out of her pocket she saw Charlie, his cell phone to his ear, leading the way through the sliding glass doors. Zane trailed behind, wearing a coat that was much too large.
Sure enough, the call was from Charlie. She hit End, slipped the phone back into her pocket, and waved.
Zane was at that age where his arms and legs had outgrown his body. Usually his smile was as gangly as his limbs, but not today. A worried expression had replaced it.
Charlie saw her and lowered the phone. When they met in the middle of the waiting room, he asked, “How’s Joel?”
“On his way to X-ray.”
“What about Simon?” Zane asked.
“He has a broken jaw for sure. He’ll get X-rays too and then an MRI.”
Zane bit his lip, and Shani pulled him close.
“Charlie let me steer his truck up to the highway,” Zane said.
She smiled. It was like him to switch subjects so quickly. He was already trying to get her to let him drive in a teasing way, even though he had over two more years until he could get his permit.
She hugged him tight as footsteps sounded behind her.
Zane’s eyes widened. She turned around as Tim stopped a foot away.
“I need to use a phone,” he said. “To leave a message for our bishop.”
“You can use mine,” Shani said, pulling it from her pocket.
He took it. For a moment she wasn’t sure if he’d know how to use it, but he flipped it open and stepped away from them. Shani nodded toward a row of chairs, and Charlie led the way. Once they sat, she kept her eye on Tim. He paced back and forth but then stopped as he spoke into the phone. She expected him to be done quickly, but when he paused and then spoke again she realized he hadn’t left a message. He was having a conversation.
Tim paced back toward her. “I didn’t expect you to be in the shop,” he said. “I just wanted you to know what was going on. I’d rather talk about the rest later.”
He listened for a moment, pacing back the other way, then back toward Shani. “Jah, I know you warned me.” A shadow fell across Tim’s face. Was the bishop blaming him for something?
He paced the other way. When he returned, he flipped the phone shut and extended it to Shani.
She took it. “Hungry?” she asked.
He nodded. “They’re taking the boy for the MRI. They said I’d have some time.”
Shani stood, introducing Charlie to Tim. “You’re Eve’s brother, right?” Charlie said as he shook the man’s hand.
Tim’s expression hardened. “How do you know Eve?”
“I don’t,” Charlie sa
id, his voice as calm as always, his dark eyes kind. “I just met her when I picked up Zane.”
“I’m confused,” Shani said. “Who is Eve?”
“The woman who called 9-1-1,” Zane said. “The one who asked if I wanted to stay with them.”
“Oh.” Shani had thought the woman was Tim’s wife, the mother of all the children. Where was his wife?
“Let’s go eat,” Shani said, pointing toward the hall and leading the way.
Once in the cafeteria, Zane stuck by her side while the men went their separate ways. When it came time to pay, Shani kept her eye on Tim, wondering if he had any money with him.
She smiled when he pulled out a card. She couldn’t tell if it was debit or credit—either way it surprised her. She wrinkled her nose. It looked like she had a lot to learn about the Amish.
Charlie chose a table by the window, and the rest joined him. The rain had stopped, and rays of sunshine landed on the wet street. Once they’d settled into their chairs, Tim bowed his head. Zane pressed his lips together as Charlie bowed his head too. Then Zane followed the example of the men. Shani stared out the window at the Emergency Department sign, and spoke silently. You’re up to something, aren’t you? She hadn’t prayed much lately, just the plea for happiness yesterday, and she doubted this one warranted much of a response either.
Once everyone had raised their heads again, Shani—as she grabbed her fork—asked Tim if he’d been to this hospital before.
He nodded as he buttered his toast. “My wife had our youngest daughter here. And she came here for the cancer treatments too.”
Shani almost dropped her fork. “The baby has cancer?”
“No, my wife.”
Shani’s stomach fell, and she put the fork back down on the table, unable to ask the next question.
Thankfully Tim didn’t let it go that long. “She passed away five months ago.” He dipped his toast in his eggs and then took a bite.
“I’m so sorry,” Shani said, feeling as if her own baby were cutting off her ability to breathe. Five children, motherless. A husband, left alone. She swallowed hard, trying to push down the intense fear she’d had of losing Joel.
