by Ruth Reid
Josiah shuffled to Simon’s place. The room reminded him of the icehaus. Cloudy breaths escaped his mouth as he opened the woodstove. He balled the newspaper around the kindling and chose a log with the most bark, hoping the fire would take off immediately. It did. The light-headedness would soon pass. Josiah pulled the covers back on the bed and collapsed.
Bright afternoon sun glittered on the freshly fallen snow and provided the perfect amount of light in the sitting room by which to do the mending. Lindie demonstrated to Hannah how to thread the needle, then made a few stitches while Hannah watched. Lindie handed a sock that needed darning to Hannah and helped her weave the needle through the material.
“Very good,” Lindie said.
Hannah beamed.
Lindie selected another sock from the pile. The material was so threadbare, even closing the holes wouldn’t make the sock usable. She tossed it into the rag pile and grabbed another one as someone knocked on the door.
Rebecca stood at the door, holding a food dish.
“Gut afternoon.” Lindie opened the door wider.
“I know this probably isn’t a gut time, but I wanted to stop by and lend support.”
“Denki.” Normally people brought food after the baby was born. Lindie pushed a strand of hair over her ear. “I was just teaching Hannah how to sew.”
Rebecca only glanced in Hannah’s direction before looking back at Lindie. “How are you doing?”
“I feel fine.” She straightened her dress apron.
“Is there anything I can help you with? I could take care of Hannah.” Rebecca reached for Lindie’s hand. “You don’t have to go through this alone.”
“What do you mean? Mei boppli isn’t due yet.”
Rebecca looked around the room. “Is Josiah resting? I don’t want to wake him.”
“He’s out in the barn.” Where he’d been all week.
“Ada said she saw him at the doktah’s office. He had the same paleness as when . . .”
“When what?”
Rebecca cringed. “When he . . . first had lymphoma.”
The air left Lindie’s lungs in a whoosh. “Wha—” She choked on her words.
Rebecca pulled a chair out from the table and coaxed her to sit, then filled a glass with water. “I’m so sorry. I thought you knew,” she said, handing Lindie the glass.
She sipped the water, too stunned to talk. After a moment, she rose from the chair. “I’m truly grateful,” she said, going to the window. Josiah’s buggy sat next to the barn. She hadn’t thought anything about him working all day. But if he was sick, he shouldn’t be in the drafty barn.
“The entire settlement feels bad. The last time he was sick we all had our blood tested to see if any of us could donate our bone marrow,” Rebecca said. “But none of us were a match.”
Lindie couldn’t grasp the information. She continued to stare out the window.
Rebecca placed her hand on Lindie’s back. “If he didn’t say anything to you, then maybe it’s just the flu.”
“That’s why you asked if he was feeling okay during the nacht of the sleigh ride? That was over a month ago.”
“I thought he looked a little run-down.”
“I didn’t pick up on any of it,” Lindie said softly.
“It still might only be the flu.”
Whatever was ailing him, Lindie had to know. “Would you mind taking Hannah for the nacht?”
“I can take her longer if needed.”
“Denki, let me go tell her.” Lindie blotted her eyes with the corner of her dress. She didn’t want any trace of tears to alarm Hannah. At least she wouldn’t hear if her voice cracked. Lindie cleared her throat anyway and tapped Hannah’s shoulder.
The girl looked up from her sewing.
Lindie faked a smile and made the hand gestures to pack some clothes. She motioned to Rebecca and explained that the bishop’s wife wanted Hannah to spend the night.
Hannah stared a long moment. Lindie repeated the gestures, but Hannah shook her head slowly.
“I love you. But you must do as you’re told.”
Hannah stood, left the sock on the chair, and went toward her bedroom. A few minutes later she returned, clothes in hand. Rebecca placed her arm around the child’s shoulders and guided her toward the door, but Hannah stopped in front of the desk. She stared at the picture she drew of the hands hanging on the wall.
Lindie’s throat constricted. She willed herself not to cry. As Hannah walked with them to the buggy, she glanced over her shoulder. Her large brown eyed bore into Lindie’s.
Once the buggy pulled out of sight, Lindie proceeded to the workshop. Josiah wasn’t around. She called for him, but he didn’t answer. She went to the rear of the building and tapped on the door. “Josiah?”
No answer.
She eased the door open and tiptoed inside.
Huddled under a heavy quilt and overcome by tremors, his eyes opened a crack, then closed.
“Josiah,” she whispered. She sat on the edge of the bed and pushed his hair off his forehead. His ashen skin was dotted in sweat. She rested her hand above his brow. Hot. Clammy. “Josiah.” Her voice cracked.
“Go back.” Racked with shivers, his voice shook. “Too . . . kalt.”
“What are you doing out here? Alone?” She buried her face in the pillow beside him and sobbed.
He pulled his arm out from under the covers and patted her back. “Don’t cry.”
She lifted her head. “Tell—me. What’s—wrong—?” Her voice broke. “Is it true? Do you have lymphoma?”
His eyes welled with tears.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Sometime during the night the adverse effects Josiah experienced from the medication wore off, but another sickness overcame him. The possibility of death. Leaving this woman he had come to love carried more fire through his veins than the toxic infusion of chemicals.
The bedsprings squeaked when he crawled out of bed. Lindie stirred.
“Go back to sleep,” he whispered.
She moaned softly and rolled to her other side, then flipped back over. “You’re nett going without me.” She bounded out of bed before he could object.
“Lindie, I think it’d be best if—”
“I’m going to the doktah’s appointment with you.” She grabbed a dress from the closet. “Rebecca has already said she would watch Hannah longer.”
“It’s a long day.”
“And I want to spend it with mei husband.”
“Fine.” It would take too much energy to stop her. Besides, she could drive home. “I’ll get the buggy ready.”
“Don’t you want to eat something first?” She slipped on her dress and grabbed a handful of straight pins from the top of the dresser. “It’d only take a minute to make eggs.”
He spoke over his shoulder as he left the room. “I’d rather nett eat.” He didn’t want to alarm her, but today’s dose was supposedly stronger, which probably meant more violent side effects. After uncontrollable shakes had racked his body yesterday, he dreaded what effects the infusion would have today.
“You need your strength, Josiah,” she called out behind him.
“If it makes you feel better, you can make me a sandwich to eat afterward.” He shoved on his boots. He wouldn’t be surprised if she made him four sandwiches to make up for no breakfast. She would find out soon enough why he had no appetite. He pulled on his coat and grabbed his hat from the hook.
Lindie had a knapsack packed and was outside by the time he had Molly harnessed. As they headed for town, neither spoke. He appreciated the silence.
The nurse entered the empty lobby. “If you’ll follow me, we can get started.”
Josiah nodded and he and Lindie trailed the nurse to the scale. He couldn’t imagine that his weight had changed since she took it yesterday. But he removed his boots and stepped on the scale. The nurse recorded the weight without comment. She led him to the examination room, where he climbed on the paper-lined table. Li
ndie sat in the chair in the corner. The nurse took his blood pressure, pulse, and temperature and documented the results on the clipboard. She asked Josiah a few questions about how he’d tolerated yesterday’s infusion and the amount he vomited. She held the same facial expression as she jotted notes in the chart.
The nurse closed the chart and directed her attention to Lindie. “Are you seeing the doctor today too?”
“Next week is my appointment.”
“You don’t have much longer to go.”
“Three months.” A soft glow radiated from Lindie’s face as she smiled.
“Doctor Ethridge won’t be long.” On her way out, the nurse placed the clipboard in the tray on the door.
“It seems strange to be sitting here and not on the cot.” Lindie folded and unfolded her hands. Finally, she stood and motioned to the cup dispenser on the wall. “Can I get you some water?”
“Sure.” He agreed more to give her something to do than because he was thirsty.
She filled a small paper cup from the sink and handed it to him.
“Denki.” He took a small sip, leery of having too much in his stomach.
“Do you want more?”
“I haven’t finished this.” He tipped the cup so she could see how much remained. He drank the rest as Doctor Ethridge entered the room. Josiah crushed the paper cup in his hand and passed it to Lindie, who tossed it into the trash before sitting down.
“Are you feeling up for another round?” the doctor asked.
“I suppose so.”
Doctor Ethridge listened to Josiah’s heart and then went through a list of questions ranging from what type of side effects Josiah had experienced to what color his urine was and how many bowel movements he’d had. After making a few notes, he set the clipboard on the counter. “Normally I don’t mind if a family member sits in the room during the administration.” He turned to Lindie. “But because you’re pregnant, I’m going to ask that you wait in the lobby during the infusion.”
Lindie nodded.
The look she gave Josiah tugged at his heart. He wanted to pull her into his arms and reassure her everything was fine. Instead, he winked, and enjoyed the brief satisfaction of making her smile.
Lindie sat in the chair next to the lamp table. Finding out about Josiah’s illness left her with so many unanswered questions. How long could someone in his condition live without a bone marrow transplant? Would he go into remission with just chemotherapy? She should have brought a pad to write a letter to Margaret. She wanted to ask Eli if he knew that Josiah had once had cancer.
A half hour later Doctor Ethridge crossed the lobby.
She stood. “Is he done?”
“No, it’s going to be another hour or two yet.” He motioned to the chair, then sat down on the one beside her. “Josiah is tolerating the infusion.”
She blew out a breath. “You had me worried.”
“I thought you might be.” He patted Lindie’s hand. “How are you feeling?”
“The baby kicks a lot during the night. I don’t get much sleep, but I’m fine.” She leaned forward. “Tell me about Josiah. Will this medicine that he’s getting work?”
He looked at his folded hands. “It’s a long shot,” he said without lifting his head. “He needs a bone marrow transplant.” He paused as though allowing her time to take it all in. “I’m sorry to say we haven’t found a donor match.”
“I haven’t been tested.”
“Even if you were a perfect match, I would not advise it while you’re pregnant. It’s a complex procedure. The marrow is taken from the hip area. It’s not a good idea. I’m sorry.”
Her shoulders slumped and she fell back against the chair. This pregnancy had a way of altering her life—again. First Moses’s rejection, now the possible loss of the man she loved. “Please.” She inched forward in the seat. “I have to do something to help him.”
“We’re doing everything possible. Even if he went to a cancer center, they couldn’t do more without a donor. The regimen I’ve prescribed is aggressive,” he said. “Josiah understood and agreed to the risks.” He stood. “I need to check on how the infusion is going.”
Lindie rushed to his side. “Couldn’t I at least be tested?”
He stopped. “What if you’re a match? Would you want me to induce labor so you deliver early?” He shook his head. “That would jeopardize the health of the baby. I won’t do that. It’s one thing for Josiah to take risks—it’s his life—but I won’t agree to risk the life of an unborn child.”
“I might naturally deliver early. You said so yourself a few months ago.”
“That isn’t so much an issue now that you’re gaining weight.” He smiled. “But I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to do the blood test. If you are a match—and the baby arrives early . . .”
“Can we do it now?”
He nodded. “I’ll tell my nurse.” His gray eyebrows formed a straight line. “There’s still a risk that you won’t be strong enough after giving birth. I’m not the one who will perform the bone marrow procedure, so you’ll have to pass another doctor’s specifications. There is no guarantee.”
“I understand. But I believe in miracles. All things are possible.”
Doctor Ethridge nodded. “Keep that hope alive.”
Even as she nodded, doubt seeped in. God’s ways are not our ways. His thoughts are not like ours . . .
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Josiah’s condition deteriorated rapidly after he received the second infusion. Other than reheating the meals brought over by the womenfolk, Lindie hadn’t left his bedside in three days. Between Ada and Rebecca, Hannah was well cared for. Lindie was grateful for their help. Neither she nor Josiah wanted Hannah to see how sick he’d become.
She lifted the soup spoon to Josiah’s mouth and cupped her other hand under his chin. “Take a sip. You need your strength.”
He opened his mouth wide enough for the spoon and accepted the broth. His eyes closed.
Don’t stop. A few sips weren’t much, but a start nonetheless. Doctor Ethridge had said the medication might suppress Josiah’s appetite. She never thought it would vanish altogether.
“Will you try and eat more?” She readied another spoonful, but his eyes remained closed and his mumbling wasn’t comprehensible. Lindie lowered the spoon and set it and the bowl on the table. She knelt at the side of the bed, rested her forehead against the mattress, and closed her eyes.
“Father, please, I don’t want to see him suffer. He’s a gut husband.” Her plea turned whiny. “Don’t take him from me. Please.”
Josiah reached down and placed his hand on the side of her face.
She clasped his hand and pressed it tighter against her cheek. “Father, give him strength to fight.”
“I won’t give up.”
Hope soared within her. “I’m holding you to that.”
The corners of his lips creased upward a moment, then his eyes closed and his mouth returned to its neutral position.
“I love you, Josiah,” she said, rising up from her knees.
His lips moved a little, but nothing audible came out.
A few days later Josiah felt well enough to sit up in bed. He ran his hand through his hair and a clump of hair fell out. “It won’t be long before I’m bald. You think mei hat will still fit?”
Lindie took the chunk from him. “If it doesn’t, I’ll knit you a cap to wear under it.” She tossed it into a trash can beside the dresser. “Are you hungry?” She and Hannah had eaten earlier, but she’d saved him a plate to reheat.
“Nay.”
Five days he had spent in bed, lacking the energy to even swallow soup. He was wasting away. His shadowed eyes were sunken and so were his cheeks. She sat on the edge of the bed and reached for his hand. “Won’t you at least try to eat something?”
He shook his head. “Maybe later. I’m nett hungry.”
“You said that earlier.”
He cracked a smile and her heart warmed. She h
ad sorely missed his company over the past few days. Now that he was more alert, she wanted to share his every waking minute.
Lindie wished her doctor’s appointment wasn’t today. Yet she’d held a glimmer of hope all week that she would hear news about the blood tests. Deep in her heart she was sure she was Josiah’s donor match. Why else would God have put them together?
“Rebecca will be here soon. She’s going to watch Hannah while I go into town for mei checkup.” She hadn’t told him about Simon’s bus arriving today. He might insist on meeting him at the station.
The bell over the door jingled. “I better make sure that wasn’t Hannah leaving.” She crossed the room and stepped into the hallway. Hannah’s door was open and she was busy drawing on her sketch pad and didn’t look up. Lindie continued down the hall.
“I let myself in when no one answered,” Rebecca said, shaking her arm out from her cape. “How is Josiah?”
“Better if I could get him to eat.” She motioned toward the kitchen. “I have a pan of meatloaf in the oven. I don’t know if he’ll eat, but even if he only takes a bite or two it’s better than nothing.”
Rebecca followed Lindie into the kitchen. “And Hannah, how is she?”
“She knows he’s sick, but she’s not aware of the severity.” Lindie opened the oven door and removed the pan of meatloaf. “I’ve waited for Josiah to say something, but he’s been so sick that he hasn’t wanted Hannah to see him.”
“I’ll pray God gives you and Josiah wisdom concerning Hannah. I know sometimes it’s difficult for you to communicate with her, but God will open those doors too.”
“Hannah and I are making progress. God has been gut about that.” She sliced the meatloaf and placed it on a plate. “Pray that I’m a donor match. I should find out something today.”
“Is it possible to donate while you’re pregnant?”
“If the boppli arrives early.” Lindie sighed. “I could use any suggestions you have for early delivery. I thought about spicy food, but maybe there is a tea I could drink?” She grabbed a fork from the drawer and a clean dish towel for him to use as a napkin. “I’ll be back in a minute.” Lindie carried the dish into the bedroom and set it on the bedside table. “Josiah,” she whispered, “your plate is on the stand.” His eyes remained closed. “I’m leaving nau for town. I won’t be long.” Lately it seemed she talked more to the wind than to him, he drifted in and out so much. She started to turn away and he grasped her arm.
