But since she didn’t know how to admit any of that, she asked a question of her own. “Monroe, why did you tell Noah about my pregnancy?”
“Because it was real obvious that you weren’t about to tell him.”
“It is my body, and he was wanting to court me. It was my choice to tell him about my baby.”
He frowned. “You didn’t actually want Noah Freeman to come calling on you, did you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Why would you even consider it? He works on an ambulance.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
Monroe wrinkled his nose. “There’s nothing good about it. He’s straddling two worlds.”
Hating that Monroe was being so judgmental, Sadie said, “What two worlds? His being Amish helped when he was tending to Verba.”
Esther inhaled sharply. “But she died.”
“That wasn’t his fault.” When neither of her cousins agreed, she gaped at them. “Wait, you both don’t think that EMTs were at fault, do you?”
“She was alive when the ambulance took her away,” Monroe said. “And they wouldn’t let any of us in there. Maybe they made a mistake.”
Sadie knew that she had been standing off to the side, but she definitely remembered that Verba had been in distress. She’d been in a lot of pain. She’d been crying out before they’d given her drugs in her IV line.
“I don’t know if I agree with you two. Those men seemed honest and like they were trying their best.”
“My father talked to the doctors at the hospital and they couldn’t tell him exactly what was wrong.” Monroe waved a hand. “Actually, they said they were going to do a lot of tests of her blood. But her blood was fine.”
“We don’t know that for sure. What did the blood tests say?”
“They haven’t told Daed yet.” His lips pursed, then he said darkly, “One of the doctors even suggested that they do an autopsy.”
“I don’t know what that is,” Sadie responded.
“They wanted to cut her open after she was dead,” Esther said, illustrating that she, too, had been discussing things whenever Sadie wasn’t around.
“Oh, my word. What did your father say?”
“He refused to let them, of course,” Monroe said. “We Amish don’t believe in autopsies.”
“Oh. Of course.”
Monroe’s voice hardened. “Noah should’ve told those doctors that so they wouldn’t have asked my father.”
“To be fair,” said Sadie, “Noah might not have known what the doctors wanted to do.”
“Maybe. Or maybe not. He rides around in an ambulance, hangs out with Englishers all the time. He might be forgetting our ways.”
Sadie didn’t know a lot of things, but she knew Monroe was mistaken—and not one to cast stones, given the way he and his father and grandfather were making money.
Just because Noah knew more about medicine didn’t mean he was too worldly, or knew what all the doctors in the hospital were thinking.
“Noah has been a gut friend to me,” she said quietly. “You may not trust him, but I do. And now he thinks I’m a liar. Probably everyone in that store thinks that.”
Monroe flushed. “You’re right. It wasn’t the best place, but at least it’s out in the open now. Sadie, if you really do like Noah so much, then you had to tell him sooner or later. He had to learn the truth. You know that.”
As much as Sadie wanted to hold on to her anger, she knew Monroe wasn’t the one at fault. “I know. I just wish he had taken the news better.” Remembering how blank his expression became, and the way he turned from her like she was a stranger? Well, that had hurt.
“I bet he’ll come to call on you tomorrow,” Esther said. “Anyone would have been shocked by the news. After he thinks about it, he’ll come back.”
“I don’t think so. He probably thinks I have a boyfriend or something.”
“This is all such a mess.”
“Jah. It is,” Monroe said as he carefully guided the horse and buggy to the barn and pulled on the buggy’s brake when they came to a stop. “But don’t forget something, okay?”
“What is that?”
“No matter what, you’re our mess. You don’t need that guy anyway. You can stay here.”
“See, Sadie?” Esther said as she opened the door to the buggy and hopped out. “Everything ain’t all bad.”
“True.” She smiled weakly—because suddenly her whole world was stifling. She felt dizzy and off balance. Was it the heat that was making her feel dizzy or her dismay and anger at the whole situation . . . at the knowledge that Noah Freeman was now going to be avoiding her like the plague?
Esther noticed. Reaching for her hand, she said, “Oh, my. Scoot out, Sadie. You don’t look too gut.”
She felt so limp. Saliva pooled in her mouth as she fought to get her bearings.
Just as she attempted to move, Monroe said, “Nee, Sadie. Stay there. I’m going to come around and help you down.”
She didn’t argue. Actually, she didn’t know if she could have argued with him even if she’d wanted to. She was so dizzy that all she seemed to be able to do was—
Monroe gripped her waist with his hands and helped her to the ground.
“Easy now,” he said quietly. “It’s hot out here. We should have thought about that.”
Her dizziness increased, making her feel light-headed and her breath hitch.
“I think . . .” She faltered, feeling short of breath.
Esther leaned closer . . .
She was swimming in front of Sadie’s eyes.
“Sadie!”
But she didn’t reply.
Because she gave up trying to hold on.
Instead, she allowed her world to fade to black.
Chapter 18
July 19
Even though she knew it was vain, Daisy found herself walking into the bathroom and studying her face. She didn’t know why. Her new medication would take a few days to kick in, at the earliest. The rash across the bridge of her nose wasn’t going to fade away immediately.
Besides, an unsightly rash on her skin hadn’t been what was keeping her up at night. It was the fact that she now knew that she had a disease. She had lupus. Systemic lupus. A disease of her immune system.
Soon, the doctors said, she would look “normal”—
But she wouldn’t really be ever again.
As she walked into her kitchen, the doctor’s warnings and diagnosis burned her ears. All of his words jumbled and scrambled in her head, making her wonder if she was ever going to make sense of it. Remission. A normal life. Treatment plans. Plaquenil. Kidney damage. Exhaustion. Fevers. Seizures.
She was thirty-eight years old and had a long-term disease. Try as she might, she couldn’t figure out how she might have contracted it, though the doctor said women of all types got lupus. She supposed it didn’t matter. Whatever reason, God had decided to give it to her.
Taking a peek at the pamphlets the nurse had handed her before she left the office, Daisy knew she should put on her reading glasses and read them again. Once she understood everything, she would start to feel better.
But she would still be tainted, a sneaky voice whispered in her ear.
She was growing to hate that voice. The whiny one riddled with selfish wishes and huge insecurities. The one that pointed out that she was almost forty and was still an old maid. While all of her friends had gotten married, had children, or even grandchildren, she’d been on her own.
Sometimes, in the middle of the night, that voice even tried to persuade her that she wasn’t worthy of love and marriage.
After allowing herself one more minute of doldrums, she added ice to a Mason jar and poured in some water, then she slipped a straw hat on over her kapp and went outside to the front porch, picking up her latest crochet project on the way. She’d begun crocheting baby blankets to give to a local charity organization that delivered them to new mothers in Appalachia.
&nb
sp; As her mother had often told her, it was far better to focus on others’ needs than her own.
It seemed her mother hadn’t been wrong. An hour later she felt better. Maybe not like her normal self, but far more positive. She also had a lovely soft pink blanket to show for it.
“I guess this was perfect timing,” a voice called out.
Missing a stitch, Daisy’s hands stilled as she watched Stephen Stauffer stride up her walkway with a brown paper shopping bag in his right hand.
“Hi, Stephen.” Just as she was about to stand up, she noticed his gaze search her face. His easy smile turned into concern.
“You’re upset.”
She shrugged, and set her yarn aside. “A little. I’ve still got this rash.”
Without a concern for her personal space, he dropped the bag, leaned closer, and cradled her chin in his hand. In his large, rough, surprisingly gentle hand. For a moment she closed her eyes, allowed his touch to seep into her soul. Then, as reality returned, she pulled away—just as she should have done in the first place.
“I’m fine.”
“Are you?”
“I will be.”
After looking at her closely again, Stephen pushed her yarn away and sat down on the cushioned bench next to her.
Right next to her.
She would have scooted away if there was any place to scoot. “I don’t know if there is room for two of us on this bench.”
He laughed. “Nee, I think this bench was made for two people.”
Knowing that he was talking about courting and kissing and such, she blushed. Even though she was truly far too old for such nonsense. “Want to tell me why you came by?”
“I brought you something.”
She eyed the brown sack. “What is it?” And more importantly, why was he bringing her anything at all?
“You’re gonna have to wait to find out.” Kicking his feet out, he grinned. “Actually, I’m thinking now that maybe I should hold that sack hostage until you tell me about your doctor visits. What did you discover?”
He was making her uncomfortable. Not because he was sharing a small bench, curving a hand around her jaw, or bringing her presents. No, it was because of who he was.
Her best friend’s husband for twenty years.
And also the man she had secretly liked for most of her life. Ever since they had all attended a frolic back when they were fourteen, and she spied him across the way, looking so worldly and bored with the silly games that the adults had planned for them.
Right away, she’d found herself stealing glances at him. Hoping to catch his attention, too.
And she did, when they’d stood in line to get ice cream.
He’d started whispering to her, wondering if scoops of vanilla and chocolate ice cream could make up for things some of the other teenagers were doing—the ones who’d started their rumspringa and were no doubt imbibing far more dangerous items.
She’d gotten brave then, and admitted she’d been invited by some kids to go to the movies, that she’d almost gone but her natural wariness had taken over and she did the safe thing instead.
He’d looked at her then with appreciation. Had even suggested that they go together one day.
And just when she was about to agree, Jean had come running up to them. She was everything beautiful and innocent; and would have no more thought about going to the movies than she would have considered disobeying her parents.
Jean had glanced up at Stephen, smiled shyly, and asked if he minded terribly if she cut in line so she could stand next to Daisy.
And right before her eyes, Stephen Stauffer was dumbstruck. And Daisy disappeared from his sight.
“Daisy? I don’t mind spending the afternoon sitting by your side in silence . . . but I’d rather we talk about what’s obviously on your mind.”
“You mean that, don’t you?”
“Yep. So, will you just tell me? Or are you going to make me guess?”
“I have lupus.”
He blinked slowly. “Say again?”
She tilted her head down, took a deep breath, and told him about everything she’d learned. She told him about all the blood the doctors took and how they looked at her ankles and other joints. She told him about the rash and her new medicine, and how she could be just fine for years and years.
Or how she might not.
In typical Stephen fashion, he got straight to the point. “How are you feeling now?”
“Better.” And she did feel better. It seemed that what she needed more than anything was a friend to confide in.
At last he smiled. “I’m glad.”
Summoning a smile, too, she folded her hands over the edge of the bench. “Now maybe you will tell me why you are here?”
“Okay.” He stood up, reclaimed the sack, and then presented it to her. “I was at the store and I saw this. I thought you might like it.”
Feeling foolish, she took the sack from him and parted the handles carefully. There, waiting for her, were three skeins of pink and ivory yarn.
Forgetting he was standing there watching her, she pulled them out—and almost cried at the texture. They were very fine. Maybe they had alpaca? Maybe silk. No matter what, they were soft and luxurious to the touch. And the colors! Calling them mere pink and ivory was something of a travesty. They were much more beautiful than that. The pink was neighboring on blush and the ivory was the shade of her mother’s antique china teacups. Or the baby lamb’s wool. Not quite white—pure, without a tinge of yellow.
Suddenly, she realized that she was hugging the skeins of yarn to her just like a baby. Feeling her skin heat, she loosened her grip.
“Danke.”
“You’re welcome. So, you like them?”
“I more than like them. They . . . well, they are lovely. Some of the prettiest skeins of yarn I’ve seen in some time.” Belatedly realizing that yarns like this didn’t come cheap—and that they really weren’t anything to each other—she said, “May I help you pay for them?”
Stephen flinched. “Of course not. They’re a gift.”
He looked hurt and she immediately felt embarrassed. No woman of her age should be so socially awkward. “Of course. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s just that they caught me by surprise.”
It was true. The gift of the beautiful yarns had caught her by surprise. But she didn’t love yarn that much. No, the problem was his visit being the surprise.
And she didn’t know how to handle Stephen being here.
Sitting back down on the bench, he nodded, just as if everything she said was expected. “Daisy, I know you don’t know what to make of me. But, well, when we saw each other at the store the other day, you said something that stayed with me.”
“What was that?”
“How I didn’t really know you.” He rubbed his cheeks, which were covered, but only with a very short beard. “You were right. I think I’ve been taking you for granted these twenty years.”
That sounded rather harsh, even coming from her mouth. “I didn’t say that.”
He didn’t take his eyes off her. “It was close enough.”
“Well, now . . .”
“It was also true.”
“I’ve developed the unfortunate habit that old women sometimes have. We say what’s on our minds. It comes off as unfiltered and unnecessary.”
“One might say that is true, but I never have thought of you as particularly blunt.” His expression warmed. “Or old.”
If she didn’t know him better, she would have said that he was gazing at her with appreciation. But that couldn’t be right. “Stephen, I’m sorry if I am being obtuse, but I truly do not know what to make of this conversation. Jean and I were close all our lives, but you never acted as if you more than tolerated me.”
“That wasn’t the case. I more than tolerated you. But I was also married to Jean.”
“So now the time is right?”
“I don’t know. Maybe now is right. Maybe I dec
ided that I needed someone new in my life.”
“Are things that bad at home?”
He froze. “What is that supposed to mean?”
Daisy knew she could excuse her comment on a number of things. She could even blame it on Verba’s recent death. But she thought that they would both see through that. “I’m talking about the moonshine, Stephen.”
He ran a hand over his face. “I guess it was too much to wish that you had no idea about it.”
“Are you really that naïve? Everyone knows about it.”
“Jean never did.”
“Of course she did, Stephen,” she said gently. “And before you start reinventing the past, I’ll just say what I know to be true. Jean didn’t like what y’all were doing, but she would’ve never stopped you.”
“And why was that?”
“Because in some ways, she thought you felt that was all you had.”
“I had Jean. And my children. I loved them.”
“I know. She knew. But what I’m asking is if you ever took the time to count your blessings?”
Stung, he edged away. “I’ve always known you to be blunt, but this is a new low for you.”
“I’m not trying to shock you, Stephen. But with my future being the way it is, I don’t want to pretend anymore.”
Stephen took off his straw hat and ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry. You are right. I’m glad we’re being honest with each other.”
Feeling like she’d already lost him but not wanting to give up on their relationship, she said, “I hope I didn’t ruin everything. I . . . well, I have really enjoyed our friendship.”
“I have, too.” He sighed. “Let’s talk about something else.”
“Like what?” She couldn’t think of anything to erase what she’d just said.
“How about you tell me what all we can do to help you. What advice did the doctors give ya?”
“They said to do as much as possible, that it was important to go out and do things instead of sit home and worry.”
“That sounds like good advice. Especially since I have something in mind for you to do.”
“And what is that?”
“I think we should go to Mammoth Cave.”
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