by Marta Perry
Her father reached over to wrap his hands around theirs. “We must pray.”
Nodding, Leah closed her eyes, letting the sound of her father’s voice roll over her as he led them in prayer for Anna.
• • •
“The doctors are still running tests.” The emergency room nurse gave them a look of such sympathy that Leah’s courage failed her. She wouldn’t look that way unless it was serious.
Please, Father. Give me Your strength, for I have none of my own.
The Lord must have heard her, since she didn’t crumple to the tile floor, although her hands gripped the counter’s edge so hard that it cut into her fingers.
“Can we see her?”
The woman consulted her computer. “It looks as if she’s just been taken to a patient room. You can go up, and the doctor will tell you what they know so far.”
Leah forced herself to ignore the stares of the English who sat in the waiting room. The nurse checked the room number and then pointed out the direction to the elevator. Putting her arm around her mother’s waist, Leah led the way.
When they reached the proper floor, she had to urge Mamm forward out of the elevator. How long was Mamm going to be able to hold up? Her face was gray and drawn, and the hand that gripped Leah’s strained.
She glanced at her father. Daad, always so strong and controlled, looked almost frail in this setting.
My parents are old. The thought shocked her. They have grown old, and I didn’t notice.
Leah checked the room numbers and led the way down the hall. As they neared the room, a doctor strode out and then stopped at the sight of them.
“We are Anna Beiler’s family.” Leah spoke, because her parents seemed unable to do so. “Can you tell us how she is?”
He shot a glance over his shoulder into the room and then turned back to them. “We’re still waiting for the results of some of the cranial tests we’ve run—an EEG, CAT scan . . .” He paused, looking at her doubtfully. “Do you understand what I mean?”
It wasn’t the first time she’d encountered the assumption that the Amish were ignorant, and it probably wouldn’t be the last.
“Yes, doctor. My sister has a head injury, and you are trying to determine the extent of the damage.”
He nodded, looking relieved. “She’s unconscious but stable right now. We’re hoping surgery won’t be necessary, but a lot depends on the results we see and on how she does during the next few hours.”
He stepped to one side, clearing the doorway for them.
“You can go in and sit with her. Don’t touch any of the equipment.”
She bent her head in obedience and ushered Mamm and Daadi into the room.
Anna lay in the high metal bed, as still as if she lay in her coffin. Her head was bandaged, her face scraped and bruised. Machinery hummed and buzzed, and what seemed like dozens of tubes snaked around her. A nurse in blue scrubs appeared to be checking a monitor.
Leah felt her mother sag and grasped her waist, supporting her. “It’s all right, Mammi. Look, we’ll pull a chair over so you can sit right next to Anna.”
The nurse gave a sympathetic smile and pushed a green plastic chair across the floor. “That’s right, honey,” she said. “Sit down right here. Don’t try to wake her, but you can talk quietly to her. It might comfort her to hear your voice.”
Mamm, given something positive to do, straightened and walked to the chair. Leaning forward, hand on the bed as if she wanted to touch Anna but didn’t dare, she began to talk softly in the dialect that Anna would know, even if the nurse wouldn’t understand.
Daad moved to the other side of the bed and clasped his hands, eyes closing, lips moving in prayer.
The nurse gave Leah an assessing look. “You’ll make sure no one touches or bumps the equipment?”
She nodded.
“I’ll have a couple more chairs brought in for you.”
“Is there anything else we can do?”
The nurse shook her head. “Just wait, I’m afraid.” She glanced at Leah’s father. “And pray.” She went out, leaving the door open.
The chairs arrived, and Leah persuaded Daadi to sit. Minutes ticked by. Anna didn’t move.
Leah’s heart seemed almost too full to pray, and she struggled to find the words.
Gracious Lord, extend Your hand to my little sister. Guide the doctors, and give her Your healing.
Her hands clasped tightly together, and she began to murmur the words of the Twenty-third Psalm, reaching for the comfort of the familiar, beautiful words.
Someone would come. Sometime, someone would come to tell them if Anna would live. If Anna would be whole again.
Finally a footstep sounded in the hall outside the door. She glanced up to see a uniformed figure peering in—the township police chief, face somber. He caught her eye and gestured.
With a murmured explanation, she went out to him, faintly relieved to see a face that was at least familiar. The People knew and respected Chief Walker—he was said to be both fair and kind.
“Teacher Leah, I’m sorry for the trouble that’s come on you folks.” He pushed his hat back on his head, his lean, weathered face worried. “How is your sister doing?”
“We don’t know anything yet. The doctors are waiting for some test results.”
He nodded. “Well, that’s something. The other three young folks got off with minor injuries—a broken wrist, some cracked ribs.”
She was ashamed to realize she hadn’t given them much thought. “I’m glad of that.”
“The folks in the buggy got off light, too. Lucky to escape with bumps and bruises.”
For an instant his words didn’t seem to register. She frowned, shaking her head a little. “I’m sorry, but what you do mean? Was someone in the buggy with Anna?”
His face changed, and he looked at her with what must be pity. She seemed to freeze. Something bad was coming. She knew it as surely as she’d known there was trouble when she saw the lights.
He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I thought you knew. Anna wasn’t in the buggy. Anna was driving the car.”
An abyss seemed to open before her. She reached behind her for the stability of the wall, pressing her hand against it as she tried to make sense of this.
“That . . . That can’t be. I’m sorry, but someone has gotten it wrong. Anna left home in her buggy.”
He shook his head, sorrow carving deeper lines in his face. “I’m sorrier than I can say for this, but Anna wasn’t driving a buggy. I don’t know where she left it. She was behind the wheel of the car when it sideswiped the buggy.”
Leah grasped for sanity in a world gone askew. “But she doesn’t know how. She doesn’t have a license. Who would let her drive a car?”
“We both know she’s not the first Amish teen to drive a car. It belonged to one of the other kids, so I suppose he let her drive it. I haven’t gotten the whole story from the other teenagers yet, but you can be sure I’ll keep after them until I have the truth.”
He was trying to reassure her, she supposed, but she still grappled to get her mind around it all. “The buggy—who was the family?”
“Aaron Esch, his wife and two children. They live over toward Fisherdale. Not in your district, I guess, but I reckon you’d know them.”
She nodded numbly. Before their district had gotten so large that it had to be split into two, the Esch family had been part of their church. Aaron was first cousin to Jonah Esch, whose children were her scholars.
“They were all right, you said?” She grasped for something hopeful in this dreadful situation.
He nodded. “Seems like Anna swerved, trying to avoid them, and lost control. The driver’s side hit a tree. She had the worst of it.”
“Ja.” She glanced toward the room.
“I’m awful sorry,” he said
again. He shifted from one foot to the other. “I sure don’t want to add to your troubles, but . . . well, maybe you should think about hiring a lawyer for Anna.”
A wave of dizziness swept over her, and she fought it off. She had to hang on. The family depended on her.
She had to clear her throat before she could speak. “You know that it is not our way to go to the law.”
“This time the law’s going to come to you, I’m afraid. It seems like Anna’s been doing a lot that’s not your way. Now, you know I’m not one to come down hard on Amish youngsters who are just having fun during their rumspringa. But this time folks got hurt.”
Pain had a stranglehold on her throat. She forced out the words. “What will happen to Anna?”
He shrugged. “Not really up to me. I just investigate it. The district attorney will have to decide whether he wants to prosecute.”
Prosecute. The word had a terrifying sound.
The chief patted her hand. “You take my advice and talk to your folks about getting a lawyer for Anna. That’s the best thing they can do right now.” He settled his hat firmly on his head and walked off toward the elevator.
Leah sagged against the wall. She had to have a moment to gather herself before she could go back into the room. Had to think, had to decide.
But she knew that no matter how long she thought, she wouldn’t come up with any satisfying way to tell her parents.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Daniel stepped off the elevator at the hospital. It wasn’t hard to figure out where to go—a waiting room was spilling folks out into the hallway, as most of the church district seemed to be here to give support to the Beiler family.
That was the strength of being Amish. The People were always there for one another. Not saints, just ordinary folks with their share of faults, but when one was hurting, all were there to lend a hand.
He halted in the doorway, returning muted greetings and nods as his gaze searched the room for Leah. There she was, making her way from one person to another, probably expressing her parents’ appreciation for their kindness.
Bishop Mose Yoder clapped him on the shoulder, a smile lighting his gentle face. “Have you heard the good news? Anna has been waking up, even talking to her mamm and daad. Praise God, it looks as if she will be well.”
“That is good news.” Daniel murmured a silent prayer. Both of them knew that even if Anna recovered physically, she’d have other troubles that needed praying for.
His gaze followed Leah’s progress through the room. He’d had his final answer from her, but that didn’t keep him from wanting to help her, as a friend and a neighbor, if nothing more.
She turned toward him, and he sucked in a sharp breath. Suffering had drawn her skin taut. Her eyes were dark and shadowed with it, and she looked as if she couldn’t manage another word.
He slid through the crowd and took her arm. “Komm,” he murmured, and led her out of the room, not caring what anyone thought of that.
The hallway wasn’t much better, with people moving back and forth, soles squeaking on the tile floor. He steered her down the hall and around the corner. There was a small, empty room with benches, a sort of chapel, he supposed. He steered her inside and led her to a seat.
She sank down with a sigh and then looked at him with a question in her eyes. “Did you need to talk with me, Daniel?”
“Not as much as you needed to sit down and be quiet for a bit.”
That startled the ghost of a smile from her. “They are being kind, but you’re right. It is tiring to keep saying the same things over and over.”
“I won’t make you say them again to me, but I understand from Bishop Mose that Anna is waking up. That’s wonderful gut news.”
Her eyes lightened. “It is. She knows us, that’s the important thing. The doctors say it looks as if she won’t have to have surgery.” She brushed away a tear that had spilled onto her cheek. “I know it’s foolish of me, but I can’t help wondering what people are saying about what she did.”
He leaned toward her to take her hands in his. “It doesn’t matter,” he said firmly. “Whatever Anna did, once she confesses she will be forgiven and loved.”
She nodded, her gaze downcast, as if she looked at their hands. “I know. Just as I know that everyone is helping. Mahlon told me that you’d been over to do the milking. Matthew, too.”
“It’s gut for the boy. It helps him to remember what it means to be Amish.”
If it made her feel better to talk about that, he would oblige, but he couldn’t help but see that thinking of Anna’s confession before the church distressed her.
“The horse and buggy are back safe, too,” he went on. “One of the Esch boys showed up with them this morning.”
“Ser gut,” she murmured, but he thought her mind was elsewhere.
“If you want to be by yourself—” he began.
Her fingers tightened on his. “No.” The word came out quickly, and then she bit her lip. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t impose on you.”
“You are not imposing.” He cradled her hands in his, wishing he knew some way to ease the burden she carried. “You can say anything you want to me, Leah. It will go no further.”
“I know.” She looked at him then, her eyes dark with misery. “The police chief talked to me last night. He said that Anna may have to face charges in a court.” Tears spilled over again. “I don’t know what to do.” Her voice dropped to a ragged whisper. “I don’t know how to help her.”
Her pain pummeled his heart. He moved to the bench next to her. Tentatively, he put his arm around her, intent only on giving comfort.
She turned into his shoulder, her tears wetting his shirt. Her whole body shook with the sobs.
He stroked her back, murmuring softly to her as he would to one of the children. “It will be all right.”
That was the best thing to say right now. The only thing. He just prayed that it was true.
• • •
Leah frowned down at the quilt patch she was piecing as she sat in Anna’s hospital room. She’d have to take those erratic stitches back out again. It was surely true that they reflected her state of mind.
She glanced at her sister. Anna napped, face turned away from her. In the three days that had passed since the accident, things had settled into a more normal routine. She, Mamm, and Daad had taken turns being here at the hospital, but it had been a battle to convince Mamm that she didn’t have to be with Anna twenty-four hours a day.
The plain truth was that every time Leah heard a step in the hallway, she feared it might be the police. The prospect of her sister being charged hung over her, and she still didn’t feel they’d gotten from Anna a complete story of what had happened. If the worst came, somehow they must try to protect Mamm.
Leah couldn’t think about that trouble without remembering weeping in Daniel’s arms. He’d comforted her without question when that was what she’d needed. She’d never realized before how much it meant to have someone to lean on.
She stared down at the quilt patch. Her life still resembled a crazy quilt rather than this neat arrangement of geometric shapes.
Was her volunteer work at the clinic really so important that she couldn’t give it up for the sake of marriage to a good man? For the sake of those children she already loved?
Maybe the truth was that she was afraid. Afraid she’d fail at loving, as she had with Johnny.
Not that Daniel was offering love. Everything else—a stable life, children, a home, support, and security. But not love.
Anna moved slightly in the bed. Her eyes flickered open, then shut again at the sight of Leah.
Leah touched Anna’s hand, shaking off her own perplexities. This time, perhaps, she could get the full story from her sister. Anna couldn’t keep escaping into sleep. She had to face the situation.
“H
ow do you feel?”
“Tired. I need to sleep some more.” Anna kept her eyes closed. She’d done that as a child, refusing to face doing something she didn’t want to do.
“You’ve slept enough,” Leah said briskly, pushing the button to elevate the head of the bed. “The nurses say you should be getting up more now. You need to get your strength back.”
“I don’t want to.” Her eyes snapped open, and she frowned at Leah. “Where’s Mamm?”
“Home, getting some rest, I hope.”
Anna had grace enough to look a little embarrassed at the reminder. “Is she all right?”
“As all right as she can be under the circumstances.” They both knew that Mamm was troubled by more than Anna’s being hurt.
Anna’s fingers pleated the edge of the sheet. “What about—what about the other people in the accident? How are they?”
It was the first time Anna had seemed willing to have a real conversation about what had happened. That was a good sign, surely.
“The Esch family is fine, they say. Just some bumps and bruises. Daad is making arrangements to have their buggy fixed.”
Anna smoothed out the pleats. “And the others?”
“Your English friends were not badly hurt. They’ve all gone home from the hospital.”
“Have any of them come to see me?”
“No.” Better the plain truth than soft evasions. None of the English teens who’d been with her that night had come to see her.
“They—they want to. I know that.”
Leah couldn’t say the words that trembled on her lips about the kind of friends who had led Anna into such trouble and then left her there. That would only make her sister more defensive.
“Maybe so,” she said, her tone neutral. “Everyone from the church has been here, though, at one time or another. And brought food to the house, and took over the chores for Daad and Levi so they could be here.”
Anna nodded, head down.
Leah felt exasperation mixed with the love she had for her sister. “Anna, why did you do it? Did the others talk you into driving that car?”
