The Amish Wonders Collection

by Ruth Reid

Chapter Twenty-Four

  Mattie left the hospital room in a daze only after Bo nudged her arm and reminded her of the visitation rules. The first hour had passed so quickly. Nathan had slept through the entire visit. The image of his battered body would remain etched in her mind forever.

  “Would you like to get a cup of coffee?” Bo said quietly.

  She looked over her shoulder at the closed door to Nathan’s room with the sign posted No Visitors. It wasn’t likely the nurse would let her in before the next allotted time.

  “The nurse can page us overhead if his condition changes,” Bo said.

  “They’ll do that?” They hadn’t been willing to share information with her thus far.

  “I’ll let them know that we’re going to the cafeteria.” Bo strode to the nurses’ station, waited for the woman to get off the phone, then spoke to her, motioning in Mattie’s direction before handing the nurse one of his cards.

  “Ready?” Bo smiled at Mattie. “I gave them my cell number in case they preferred to reach us by phone.”

  “Did they say anything about Nathan’s condition?”

  “No, but I’m sure you’ll have a chance to talk with the doctor before we leave.” He gestured toward the elevators. “Shall we go?”

  Mattie wasn’t sure she wanted coffee, but maybe if they took a few extra minutes, Nathan’s sedation would have time to wear off some. “Sure.” She offered a tight smile, then proceeded down the hallway.

  The scent of bread baking awakened her sense of responsibility as they rounded the corner of the hall. She hadn’t been home long enough to prepare bread dough—to cook anything.

  He directed her into the cafeteria. “It smells good, doesn’t it?”

  “Jah.” She realized then she hadn’t eaten since yesterday. Not that she could hold anything down.

  “Are you hungry?” He picked up a food tray. “The supper dishes aren’t out yet, but it looks like the salad bar is open.”

  She stared straight ahead, focused on nothing in particular. It wasn’t until he nudged her arm with his elbow that she responded a mechanical, “Nay, danki.” Grace would say Mattie’s blood sugar was low, given her dazed response.

  He returned the tray to its holder, then continued to the beverage area where he filled two Styrofoam cups with coffee. “You sure you don’t want something to eat?” he asked before they reached the register.

  “I’m sure.” She hadn’t felt this out of sorts since Andy’s death. It had happened before, this so-called detachment. Doctor Roswell had a name for the ailment and prescribed drugs to bring her out of it—or maybe just to cope with it. Grace blamed even that on low blood sugar.

  “I’ve never seen those bruises,” she said unprompted. She would have known, even in a dazed state of mind, if she had done such a horrific thing. She was a good mother.

  “I was surprised myself.” Bo lifted his cup and took a drink.

  She tore off the corner of a napkin and rolled it between her fingers into a ball the size of a pea. “His condition is quite serious, isn’t it?”

  Bo stared over the rim of his cup a few seconds, then set the coffee cup on the table. “Are you okay, Mattie?”

  “Why do you ask?” Don’t fall apart. Keep it together. She made more napkin balls.

  “I’m wondering if seeing him . . . in his current condition is . . . too much to handle.” His head slightly cocked.

  “It’s hard. Seeing him that way.” She focused on the shredded napkin and willed herself not to cry, but tears welled anyway. “Now look what I’ve done.” She chuckled nervously. “Wouldn’t you know I’d start crying after I destroyed mei napkin. Narrish.”

  He handed her his napkin. “Mattie,” he said softly. “Prior to taking Nathan to the hospital, what had you done that day?”

  He sounded like an investigator again. She turned her attention out the window. They could use rain. The marigolds lining the pathway to the fountain were drooping.

  Bo tapped the table with his knuckles.

  She looked at him. “I’m sorry. Did you say something?”

  He smiled briefly. “Do you remember seeing me at the plant nursery?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “Where were your kinner?”

  She sat up straighter in the chair. “You think I left them home alone?”

  He cleared his throat. “I’m just trying to make some sense of all this.”

  “What do you think I’ve been trying to do?” She sniffled and tilted her head up to keep the tears from falling.

  “You said you hadn’t seen the bruises before,” he said. “Do you think that maybe he was pinned in one of the horse stalls or calf pens? He might have gone into the barn to see the lamb and got distracted.” He took a sip.

  She remained silent. Was he saying she was neglectful?

  “Barn accidents are not uncommon,” he said, repeating with emphasis. “Accidents happen all the time.”

  “I’m a gut mamm to mei kinner.” She pushed back from the table and stood. “I thought you were trying to help me.”

  “I am.” Bo gathered the cups and scraps and stood. He extended her cup of untouched coffee. “Will you drink this later?”

  “I don’t think so.” She hated being wasteful, but her stomach already burned. “I’ll pay you for the kaffi.”

  “That’s not necessary.” He tossed the drink into the trash, then glanced at his watch.

  She lowered her head and studied the wood-like markings on the tile floor. His hand cupped her elbow, and she looked up.

  “I know you’re overwhelmed. You’ve had some stressful days and I’m sure you haven’t slept, but please trust me when I say that anything I ask you is only to help.”

  Lord, is it true? Can I trust him?

  “Mattie, I’ll do everything I can for you.”

  She cleared her throat. “I don’t deserve all this attention.”

  “Jah, you do.” He guided her by the elbow out of the cafeteria, then released his hand. “They say a person can hear even when they’re under sedation. Talk to Nathan. He needs to hear your voice.”

  If what Bo said was true, she didn’t want Nathan only hearing the nurses’ voices. He needed to know she was there—in the room. They walked a few minutes in silence, passing the information desk in the lobby and the drinking fountain on the wall outside the restrooms. “Grace was watching Nathan and Amanda,” Mattie volunteered in response to his earlier question.

  “What?”

  “The afternoon I saw you at the nursery, Grace was watching the kinner. I had gone to her haus for a quilting bee and . . . well, she convinced me to go home and rest.” They rounded the corner to the children’s wing and Mattie slid to a halt.

  Grace, along with the bishop and several other members of the settlement, were standing outside of Nathan’s room.

  Bo had never had so many skeptical eyes aimed at him in all his life, looking him over head to toe. He tugged awkwardly on the suspenders. The bishop was the first to turn his attention to Mattie and the others followed suit. Except Alvin Graber, the man Bo had seen chopping wood at Mattie’s house. Alvin scowled. Bo reasoned the man had a right. After all, Mattie’s late husband had probably been Alvin’s best friend and now Bo was wearing the man’s clothes.

  Bo backed away from the crowd, removed his cell phone from where he’d tucked it under the waistband on the pants, and slipped down the hall and into the waiting room. He checked for missed calls. None. At least Norton hadn’t gotten wind that Judge Steinway listed Bo on the court records as the visitation supervisor. He dialed Mrs. Appleton’s number. He wanted to arrange to pick up Amanda for Mattie’s two-hour visitation, then call Mrs. Walker to check in with Josh. No telling how the kid managed to get Bo’s wallet back. Bo wasn’t even sure he wanted to know, but he had to find out if Josh was all right.

  Mrs. Appleton’s phone rang multiple times. Finally, on the sixth ring, the answering machine picked up.

  Chapter Twenty-Five


  So what is he doing pretending to be Amish?” Alvin fumed, his face turning bright red as he cornered Mattie at the end of the hallway.

  “He’s helping me.”

  Alvin crossed his arms over his chest and snorted. “Where did he get the clothes?”

  “They’re Andy’s.”

  “Andy’s?” he hissed as if lending her husband’s clothes were somehow sinful or immoral. Before she could form a rebuttal, he said, “And you think Andy would be okay with you giving his clothes—to an Englischer?”

  “Bo is only trying to help.”

  “Bo?” Alvin flinched disapprovingly.

  “Yes, and he is trying to help,” she repeated with more resolve. She had to remind herself of that a few times on the drive into town. Seeing another man wearing the shirt she had made her husband had stirred painful memories she hadn’t been prepared for, but Bo blending in had made it possible to avoid the reporters and that was all that mattered.

  “Help?” he grumbled under his breath. “Wasn’t he the one who threatened to take them?”

  “Bo was the one who arranged for me to have time with mei kinner. Bo did that.”

  Alvin shifted his stance, irritation marring his face.

  Mattie straightened to her full height and jetted her chin up. Bo had bailed her out of jail, and he’d talked to the right people to obtain visitation, something even her lawyer hadn’t bothered to attempt. Bo sheltered her from the reporters, from the numerous cameras and questions. The more she tallied all he’d done, the guiltier she felt for not having trusted him only minutes ago in the cafeteria.

  The longer Alvin stared at her, the more irked she became. She glanced at the wall clock over the nurses’ station. Several minutes had passed and Alvin still hadn’t asked about Nathan’s condition.

  “The man is in the waiting room on his cell phone.” Alvin shook his head. “Talking on his phone, dressed like one of us. How do you think that makes us look? Hypocritical,” he answered himself.

  “I’m sure it’s an important call,” she said dismissively and turned to look out the window. Amish buggies dotted the otherwise full parking lot. The horses were tied to the light posts, their heads hanging low, tired. She knew how they felt.

  “To be honest, I’m feeling left out,” he admitted quietly. “I didn’t know you were out of jail until the news people cornered me when I went over to your haus to check on the lamb. Then hearing the man’s phone conversation that there’d been a new development in the Diener case . . . well, I guess it struck me wrong that I would have to hear the news from an Englischer.”

  “Bo said new developments?”

  Alvin half shrugged. “He said he would stop by and fill her in.”

  Mattie bit her lip. Bo could have been talking with his partner, Erica Davis. But wouldn’t she already know about the visitation? Were there new developments she hadn’t heard about? Hope lifted her spirit.

  “Well, are you going to tell me what’s going on? Is Nathan really covered in bruises?”

  “Jah, he is.”

  “The reporters said you did it.”

  “I know.” She hated that so many people already found her guilty.

  “Well?”

  Mattie growled under her breath. You too?

  A man dressed in a long white coat approached the group, searching their faces. “Mrs. Diener?”

  Mattie’s heart raced as she moved past Alvin and approached the doctor. Then Bo stepped into her peripheral vision and her pulse slowed. She’d already begun to rely on his strength. “I’m Mrs. Diener.”

  “I’m Doctor Oshay.” He extended his hand. “I would like to talk with you about your son’s condition.”

  Bo’s heart lurched at the gravity in the doctor’s tone. Mattie must not have noticed the same weightiness; she was still smiling. No doubt feeling relieved that she would finally have her questions answered.

  Bo weaved through the crowded hallway despite the hard stares from the Amish members who had gathered around Mattie. He was the court-appointed advocate for the child and the self-appointed one for Mattie. He had to be near. But those surrounding her didn’t budge, and Bo was forced to stop a few feet away.

  Mattie stepped toward the doctor. “How is mei sohn?”

  “He’s in critical condition. I understand you’ve spent some time with him.”

  “Only an hour and he didn’t wake up.”

  “He’s—”

  The crowd parted like the Red Sea for a wheelchair-bound child and the nurse rolling the IV pole behind him to pass.

  Doctor Oshay glanced at the others in the hall, then turned and spoke directly to Mattie. Unable to hear the doctor from where he was leaning against the wall, Bo studied Mattie’s somber expression.

  Her gaze flitted toward him.

  That was his cue. Bo pushed off the wall and was at Mattie’s side a moment later.

  “I think it would be best if we go somewhere to talk in private,” the doctor said.

  Mattie’s eyes glistened. “Okay.”

  “Excuse me,” Bo said, stepping forward. “I’m Bo Lambright, the court-appointed advocate for Nathan Diener. I would like to be present for the discussion as well.”

  Doctor Oshay eyed Bo’s attire from the straw hat in his hand to his brown leather shoes with an anchor on the tongue, then replied, “I’ll leave that decision up to Mrs. Diener.”

  “I’m okay with that.” Mattie shot him a glance that said more than being okay. She appeared relieved he had spoken up. Mattie released her hand from Grace’s and followed the doctor to the conference room.

  Doctor Oshay took the seat at the end of the long conference table while Bo sat next to Mattie, who was wringing her hands.

  “As I said in the hall, I’m Doctor Oshay. I’m one of the gastroenterologists on staff and was asked by your son’s doctor to consult on his case.”

  “How is he?” Mattie stammered.

  “I wish I had better news for you. Nathan is a very sick child.”

  “I didn’t beat him—nett with mei hand. Nett with the broom handle. I don’t know how he got those bruises.”

  “I don’t believe the bruises were caused by physical trauma either,” the doctor said.

  Bo leaned forward. “Are you willing to tell that to the judge?”

  “At this time, I would ask that we focus on Nathan’s medical issues. He has a condition called idiopathic thrombocytopenic purpura or ITP. It occurs in patients who have abnormally low platelet counts and often presents as spontaneous bleeding, even bruising.”

  “Is it . . . treatable?” Mattie choked on her words.

  Bo reached under the table for her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

  “We’re doing everything we can. But we need to discover what the underlying cause is for the platelet destruction.”

  She gasped. “You don’t know?”

  Doctor Oshay shook his head. “I was hoping you would be able to provide me with a list of everything he’s ingested in the last few days. Sometimes thrombocytopenia is drug induced.” He paused as if he was letting the short snippets of information absorb. “In other words,” he said, “it’s a chemical reaction within his body that’s causing the adverse effects. It’s very important that you tell me everything, even substances around the house he might have ingested . . . accidently.”

  Bo pinched the bridge of his nose. He could see where this was headed. Mattie might be off the radar for physically abusing her child, but fingers were wagging once again at the possibility of her poisoning him.

  “Is he going to be all right? I mean, once you know what’s causing . . .” Her voice trailed off and she clasped her hand over her mouth and briefly looked away.

  “It’s the matter of timing, Mrs. Diener. The faster you can provide me with a list of products, the sooner I can rule them out.” He studied her as if he might get her to crack if he stared long enough, but Mattie just clamped her teeth over her trembling bottom lip.

  “Would it be easier
to write it down?” Doctor Oshay removed a blank sheet of paper from the patient chart and slid it and a pen in front of her. “It’s important. Nathan could suffer spontaneous bleeding if his condition deteriorates any further.” The doctor’s pager beeped and he excused himself from the room.

  Her eyes welled.

  “Mattie?” Bo picked up the pen and placed it in her hand. “Make a list.” Her stillness sent a surge of acid up the back of his throat. Lord, I don’t understand. I thought You led me to Mattie—to her son. I saw the boy in my dreams. If it’s not to help him in some way, then why?

  “Rapid response room 2205.” The overhead announcement repeated two more times before it registered that the room number being called was Nathan’s. Bo bounded out of the chair, but Mattie beat him out the door.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Numbness spread through Mattie’s body as she waited what seemed like hours for the rapid response team to leave Nathan’s room. Clank, clank, clank. She turned to see a man in scrubs pushing what looked like a toolbox toward the room. He slipped inside without a word. Mattie craned her neck to see into the room, but with the bustle of activity at Nathan’s bedside, she couldn’t catch even a glimpse of her son before the door closed.

  Grace sidled up alongside Mattie and drew her into a suffocating hug. “He’s going to be okay. Have faith.”

  Mattie’s throat tightened as she recalled the words of Jesus in the gospel of John. In the world you will have tribulation . . . She squeezed her eyes closed, unable to recite the last part about being of good cheer. How could Jesus expect her to be cheerful over everything that had happened? In Me, you may have peace. She had meditated on those words after Andy died but couldn’t capture the peace Jesus promised. Perhaps she hadn’t meditated on them enough. It seemed God was constantly trying to teach her a lesson in letting go.

  She opened her eyes when the door creaked open. A woman carrying a plastic container of blood-filled test tubes exited while another worker carrying what appeared to be blood-filled IV bags went into the room. The woman made eye contact with Mattie for a half second, then lowered her head and walked swiftly down the hall.