by Beth Wiseman
Forcing the thought aside, she clomped up the porch steps behind Lillian. When they reached the top, Lillian stopped and eyed Carley’s shoes. “I’ll tell you a secret,” she whispered. “I miss fancy shoes.”
Carley looked down at her friend’s feet. “You always did have a thing for shoes. But I bet those are a lot more comfortable than these.” She pointed to her brown, pointy-toed pumps.
“Oh, I’m sure they are. But if you catch me trying on your shoes while you’re here, don’t tell anyone.”
“It’ll be our secret.”
The two of them giggled like schoolgirls. It felt good. As Lillian ushered her into the house, Carley wondered if Matt had been right. Maybe she did need a vacation. Being around Lillian might provide a much-needed reprieve from the grief that had blanketed her in Houston.
They entered the house through the kitchen. Backless benches on each side of a wooden table stretched long enough to seat at least ten people. While there were no ornate carvings on the table or benches, the colorful display of various foods complemented it.
Plain whitewashed walls and white countertops were enhanced by vibrant blooms on each of the three windowsills. No microwave or electrical gadgets. With the exception of a large rack holding various pots and pans next to the stove, there were no wall hangings. The room was functional yet charming.
Carley glanced up at the lantern dangling from the ceiling above the middle of the table. “Wow.”
Lillian stood at a gas range against the far wall, swirling a spoon in a large pot. Wonderful aromas emanated from that part of the room. “It’s a lot different from the kitchen I had in Houston,” she said sheepishly as she set the spoon on the countertop and motioned for Carley to join her at the kitchen table. “But you know how much I like to cook. And one thing is for certain: Samuel and David like to eat.”
“Do you miss it—your life before, I mean? The modern conveniences?”
“Nope,” Lillian said without reservation, then paused with a twinkle in her eye. “Only the shoes.”
Carley heard footsteps approaching. Lillian jumped up. “Be right back,” she chirped and headed toward the other room.
It was only a few seconds before she returned holding a baby, with a man by her side. “This is Anna and my husband, Samuel.”
Carley stood up and moved toward them. Samuel met her with a handshake and greeting, but it was the beautiful bundle in Lillian’s arms that Carley homed in on.
“Oh, Lillian. She’s beautiful. May I?” Carley extended her arms.
“This is a dear friend of mine, Anna,” Lillian whispered. She placed the baby in Carley’s arms.
“Look at you,” Carley cooed, snuggling Anna closer.
“Our boppli will be six months old on Tuesday,” Lillian said, pride evident in her tone.
“Ya, I reckon she’ll be baking bread and canning vegetables before we know it,” Samuel added.
Lillian nudged him. “Let’s don’t rush it.”
Anna’s bright blue eyes fused with Carley’s. She squirmed. “Oh dear. She isn’t going to cry, is she?” Carley looked up at Lillian.
“If she does, it’s because it’s near feeding time,” Lillian assured her, reaching down to softly stroke Anna’s head. “Such a gift from God,” she whispered.
“Yes,” Carley agreed. She squelched the thought of having her own child.
The screen door slammed, and they all turned their attention to a smaller version of Samuel walking into the room. The boy had the same solid build, bright blue eyes, and square jawline as his dad, minus the full beard.
“Well, hello there,” Lillian said. “Carley, this is our son, David. David, this is my friend Carley I told you about.” Lillian reached down to take Anna. “I’m going to feed Anna so we can all sit down and eat in peace. It won’t take long. Help yourselves to what’s on the table. I’ll be right back to serve supper.”
Reluctantly Carley gave up the soft bundle then extended her hand to David. “Nice to meet you.”
“Gut to meet you too,” the boy answered, removing the straw hat from his head. His bobbed haircut was similar to his father’s, but a lighter shade of brown. Both father and son wore black pants, dark blue shirts, and suspenders. They had each put in a hard day’s work as evidenced by the stains on their clothes.
Samuel and David both sat on the bench across from Carley. “Lillian has been lookin’ forward to your visit,” Samuel said.
“Thank you for having me in your home.” Carley knew it was uncommon for the Amish to host an outsider. She wondered how Samuel truly felt about it, particularly since she was there in part to write an article about the Plain ways.
Samuel nodded in acknowledgment before turning to his son. “How are Daadi Jonas and Mammi Sarah Jane?”
“Today was a gut day for Daadi Jonas, Mammi said.”
Before Samuel could reply, Lillian reentered the room. “Back already. Would you believe Anna fell asleep again, so I’m going to let her lie while we eat. David, did you say Grandpa had a gut day? And mei mamm is okay too?”
David nodded.
Lillian placed a loaf of freshly baked bread on the table and turned her attention to Carley. “Remember I told you that my mom moved in with my grandpa? Well, David goes over there every day and helps with the chores. It works out well during the summer, but when David goes back to school, it will be a challenge. There’s a lot to do at both households, and David can only go after school. Thank goodness this next year will be his last.” She paused. “Here in the district, children attend school through the eighth grade.”
She placed a pan of meatloaf on the table, followed by a casserole and several other side dishes.
“Lillian, this all looks great. You shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble.” Carley inventoried the table.
“Ach, it may look like a lot. But trust me, it takes a lot to feed these two.”
Again Lillian smiled at Samuel with a warmth Carley found endearing. Maybe someday she would find that kind of love. Although after the way Dalton had dumped her, she’d lost her faith in relationships.
Besides, what man would want her?
All heads bowed in silent prayer. Carley discreetly glanced around at each of them.
What a lovely family.
“Your friend went to bed early,” Samuel said to Lillian when they dressed for bed. “Being from the city, I would expect her to stay up past eight thirty. We’re used to going to bed early and getting up early. I reckon she’s not.”
“She said she was tired from the trip,” Lillian answered, pulling a floor-length white nightgown over her head. “Besides, we’ll have lots of time to catch up.”
“Ya, a whole month.” Samuel grinned at her.
She poked him. “It will be fine, Samuel,” she said as she slid into bed beside him. Grabbing her book off the nightstand, she dimmed the lantern and pulled it closer to the edge of the table. “I’m going to read for a little while.”
Samuel didn’t fall asleep right away as he normally did. She’d barely finished a page when he propped himself up on one elbow and turned to face her. “She sure is katzhaarich.”
Lillian turned to her husband, whose face was drawn down in disapproval. “Ya, she is short-haired. But it’s considered very stylish by the Englisch.”
Samuel reached over and ran his hand through Lillian’s brown waves, which now cascaded well past her shoulders. She hadn’t cut her hair since her arrival to the district. “Your friend’s hair barely covers her ears,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “It isn’t right. ‘But if a woman have long hair, it is a glory to her: for her hair is given her for a covering.’”
“Good thing I didn’t have short hair when I met you,” Lillian teased, closing her book. She turned to face him.
“I would have loved you anyway,” he assured her.
He wrapped his arms around her and snuggled closer. Lillian closed her eyes and reveled in the comfort of her husband’s embrace, silently thanking God for th
e wonderful family He had bestowed on her.
Carley quietly maneuvered her way down the stairs, easing up on her weight each time one of the wooden steps creaked. It was completely dark as she shone the light from her cell phone on the steps in front of her. She had slept a whopping three hours before a horrible leg cramp thrust her out of a sound and much-needed sleep.
She tiptoed her way into the kitchen and scanned the countertops. A partial loaf of homemade bread was wrapped in foil inside a clear bag. Yum. The warm bread with butter had been so tasty at supper.
Her cell phone offered a dim ray of light, enough for her to fumble the bag open and retrieve one of the precut slices. Then she glanced around the room, blinking at the darkness. Ah, of course—no electricity, no microwave.
She placed the bread on a napkin on the table, stepped toward the propane-fueled refrigerator, and pulled the door open. She squinted as the contents lit up, and selected a pitcher of sweet tea and a tub of butter.
Just a little tea and some bread. Then maybe she could go back to sleep.
Unsure how to light the overhead lantern and unwilling to wake anyone up, she kept her cell phone propped up on the table. The digital clock on the screen read 11:40. Too late to call Adam. He might be awake, but she was sure Cindy and the kids were asleep.
Carley felt bad about her last conversation with her brother. Adam had agreed she needed a vacation, but didn’t think she should spend a month so far from home. Even after explaining the purpose of her trip, he hadn’t let up, and the conversation quickly deteriorated. Both said some things they didn’t really mean, and Carley ended it by hanging up on him.
Adam, her older brother and only sibling, was overprotective. He’d been that way since their father died when she was seven. However, he’d gotten worse over the six months following the accident. When Carley gave up her apartment and moved into their mother’s house, Adam and Cindy moved from across town to right down the street from her. It was too close for comfort, and Carley told them so. But Adam was insistent. And the ever-protective hovering grew worse.
She rubbed her temples. As always when she allowed herself to think of the accident, her mind filled with images. The haunting flashbacks were always the same—the red Chevy pickup barreling into the driver’s side of Mom’s tan Toyota; her mother’s face covered in blood, resting against the steering wheel, eyes widened in horror . . .
Carley gulped down the piece of bread in her mouth and grabbed at her side. The stabbing pain was a reminder of the spiked piece of lumber that had fallen from the truck and rocketed into her, grazing her forearm before implanting itself deep within her abdomen.
If only they hadn’t decided to go to the movies that Christmas Day. If only she’d driven instead of her mother. If only . . .
With feverish intent, she sucked in a deep breath and attempted to visualize something soothing. The gentle swooshing of ocean waves usually helped clear the disturbing memories. She concentrated on recreating the sounds in her head.
I am okay. I will be okay.
She finally calmed down, but she felt drained. Maybe now she’d be able to go back to sleep.
She put her glass in the sink, tossed the napkin into the trash container, and pointed her cell phone toward the stairs. She had only taken a couple of steps upward, when she heard a loud scramble and thud upstairs, followed seconds later by footsteps. Slowing her pace, she listened.
When she heard Lillian cry out, “Samuel! Help! Come quickly!” Carley bolted up the stairs two at a time.
3
CARLEY WATCHED LILLIAN AND SAMUEL HOVERING OVER David, who lay sprawled on the wooden floor of his bedroom. The dimly lit lantern shed enough light for Carley to see blood covering the teenager’s face from his nose to his chin.
Samuel inspected his son’s chin. “It’s not as bad as it looks. You’re gonna be fine, boy,” he whispered to David. “But you will need a few stitches, looks like.”
“I’m sorry, Pop.” David winced in pain. “I don’t know what happened. I got up to go to the bathroom, then everything started going gray. And then I woke up facedown on the floor.”
After handing Samuel a wet rag, Lillian turned to Carley. “Can you drive us to the hospital?”
“Of course,” Carley answered. She’d planned never to set foot in a hospital again. But David’s injuries didn’t look too bad. Hopefully they would get in and out in a hurry.
“Pop, I’m real sorry,” David repeated, flinching when his father applied pressure with the wet towel.
Samuel spoke softly in Pennsylvania Deitsch to his son. Carley didn’t understand a thing he said, but his tone was sympathetic and comforting.
After changing out of their nightclothes, they all met downstairs in the kitchen. Samuel sat on the bench next to his son. He removed the blood-soaked rag and placed a clean wet towel against David’s chin.
“We better get going, no?” Lillian asked as she joined them with Anna in her arms.
Carley couldn’t quite get used to Lillian’s new way of speaking. She was impressed by how easily Lillian had adapted to this community, especially the language.
“How far is the hospital?” Carley asked.
“It’s about sixteen miles to Lancaster General,” Lillian said, retrieving a bottle for Anna from the refrigerator. “I’ve already installed the base of the baby carrier in your car. But I’m wondering if we’re all going to fit.”
“It’ll be tight with the car seat, but we’ll make it work.” Carley closed the door behind them all as they made their way to the car. She’d planned to return the rental car after a few days, but now she wasn’t sure she wanted to rely solely on buggy transportation for the next month.
The familiar scent of “hospital” hit Carley the moment the double doors into the ER swung open. The waiting room was filled to capacity.
“This is going to take forever,” Lillian whispered to Carley, her face reflecting the worry in her heart.
I hope not, Carley thought as she struggled to cast aside the creeping visions of her own hospital memories. She blew out a breath and took a seat, holding Anna while Lillian filled out the appropriate paperwork. Samuel was having another look at David’s chin. Poor David was pale as a ghost, and Carley wondered if he’d ever been inside a hospital before. In addition to the pain he was in, the kid looked scared to death.
Carley noticed the curious stares all around them. Samuel and Lillian pretended not to notice. Maybe they were used to it, but Carley thought it was rude. With so many Amish in the area, she’d assumed their Plain clothes wouldn’t draw attention.
“What do you think happened?” Carley asked Lillian when she saw she was finished with the paperwork.
“I don’t know. From what David said, it sounds like he fainted. He doesn’t remember his face hitting the floor.”
“Has he ever fainted before?”
“No, never.” Lillian stood. “I’m going to go turn in this paperwork. Then I guess we just wait.”
Carley gently rocked Anna while Lillian walked to the line at the receptionist’s desk.
“Pop, I’m not feeling so gut.” David bent forward in his chair.
Samuel placed his hand on his son’s back. “I know. Keep the rag on your chin so as not to start up the bleeding again.”
“It’s not my chin, Pop,” David stammered. “I feel . . . I don’t know . . . I feel funny. I . . .”
Samuel grabbed for David’s suspenders just as David fell forward in his chair. “David!” He pulled him back to a sitting position.
“Should I get help?” Carley asked as she stood with Anna in her arms.
“David!” Samuel bellowed again when it appeared David was losing consciousness.
Lillian pushed her way to the front of the line, threw the paperwork on the desk, and ran back to her family. “David!”
All the commotion caught the attention of a doctor coming out of the emergency room. The man walked briskly in their direction.
“What’s
the problem?” he asked, squatting down in front of David, who slumped in his chair, barely able to keep from falling off.
Disheveled was the first word that came to Carley’s mind as she watched the doctor examine David. The man wore a white coat with the requisite stethoscope dangling around his neck. But his shirt was wrinkled and one shirttail protruded from his pants, also in need of a hot iron. His name was printed across a name tag hanging crookedly on the right side of his coat. Dr. Noah. Wavy dark hair, uncharacteristically long for a doctor, framed his face.
Carley and Lillian waited for Samuel to respond. Nothing. Instead, he eyed the doctor with what could only be described as . . . contempt.
Carley could relate—she’d rather be anywhere else than in a hospital. People died in hospitals. She still recalled the way the doctor had delivered the news of her mother’s death. Distant. Cold. Just a day on the job for him. Then he had returned the next day with the same detached expression and delivered Carley more bad news—this time about her own health. He’d mechanically spewed out words that would change her life forever, and did so without an ounce of compassion.
Samuel’s eyes narrowed, his chin lifting as he stiffened.
When David flinched from the doctor’s touch, Samuel leaned forward. “Don’t—” He drew a breath, released it slowly. Pressing his lips together, stifling his words, he locked eyes with the doctor, who was waiting for an answer—from someone.
Lillian glanced at her husband and waited for a response before turning toward the doctor. “He fell and hit his chin at home,” she said when Samuel didn’t say anything. “We think he fainted. Now he seems like he might pass out again.”
“Can you hear me?” Dr. Noah asked David.
David nodded. About the same time, a nurse approached, pushing a wheelchair. “Here you go, Doctor,” she offered.
“I don’t need a wheelchair,” David argued. He stood up, his legs wobbly.
“David, maybe you should sit and—,” Lillian pleaded.
David just shook his head. “I can walk.”
