The Amish Wonders Collection

by Ruth Reid

  “Yes.”

  “And what did you say?”

  “That I had lost my wallet and identification.”

  The man on the far left lifted a copy of Bo’s identification. “Then how do you explain that it became part of the record at the hospital after the fact?”

  Bo wiped his sweaty palms on his pants. “It was found and returned to me.”

  “Then why didn’t you turn the identification in as you were instructed?”

  The past few nights without much sleep were beginning to wear Bo down. He was slow to collect his thoughts, and the investigator repeated the question.

  “Nathan Diener was gravely ill and because of that, Judge Steinway allowed emergency parental visitation with the contingency that it be supervised by someone from Child Protective Services, namely me, or by the child’s advocate attorney. I made the decision not to hinder the mother’s visitation. The hospital needed proof, and I supplied my identification.”

  “Do you regret your decision?”

  “No,” he said without hesitation.

  The investigators called a ten-minute recess and excused themselves from the room. Bo remained seated. As grueling as the interrogation was going, his thoughts were on Mattie. Had she gotten any more news on Nathan’s condition? When the team of investigators returned, the one seated in the center and directly across from Bo said, “At this time, we’re going to delay our decision. There will be another hearing three weeks from today. In the meantime, your suspension is still in place. You will not, at any time, represent yourself as an investigator for Child Protective Services. In doing so, your license will automatically be revoked. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re dismissed,” the center man said.

  “May I say something before I leave?”

  “Yes, go ahead.”

  “Mrs. Diener was falsely accused of child abuse. She was arrested, humiliated, and denied visitation for multiple days. I urge you to include the recent medical findings in your report, which will show her son was misdiagnosed.”

  “Excuse me, Mrs. Diener,” the nurse said, poking her head into Nathan’s room. “You have a call at the nurses’ desk.”

  Mattie slipped out of the room and followed the nurse to the back corner of the workstation.

  The nurse pressed the lit button and handed the receiver to Mattie.

  “Hello.”

  “Mattie, it’s Bo. How is Nathan doing?”

  Mattie smiled hearing his voice. “The doktah said he’s continuing to improve. They’ve lowered his pain medicine so he should be waking up soon.”

  “That’s great news.”

  The relief in Bo’s tone made Mattie smile even wider. “Doktah Oshay still wants to run more tests. He says he’s never seen a case like Nathan’s—it’s a miracle, Bo. A true miracle.” Excitement fueled her words and they ran together. “Maybe next time you see him, he will be awake—maybe home. Who knows?”

  Bo chuckled.

  Mattie turned when she heard someone behind her say Nathan’s name. Grace’s aenti Erma was talking with the nurse a few feet away. “I should probably go. I don’t want him waking up without me in the room.”

  “Do you need me to bring you anything?”

  Jah, she needed him. “Nay, I’m fine.” She hung up the phone as Erma approached.

  “How is Nathan?”

  “Much better.” She filled Erma in on all the good news as they headed to Nathan’s room.

  Erma stopped her before going inside. “Who were you talking to on the phone?”

  “Bo Lambright. He called to check on Nathan’s progress.”

  “You two have spent a lot time together, jah?” A motherly concern spread across Erma’s face.

  “He’s . . . been very . . . supportive.”

  “So I’ve heard.” Her expression stoic, she clasped her hands in front of her. “There’s chatter among the women. It won’t be long before word reaches Bishop Yoder and he’ll have to address the matter.”

  Mattie lowered her head. She half expected uproar over the time she had been spending with Bo. After all, he was an Englischer—an outsider. Her faith didn’t allow such involvement with a worldly man.

  “Don’t let your heart be deceived, child. We are to be separate from the world.”

  Her shoulders dropped. Everything Erma was saying was true. “Bo arranged for me to see mei children. When this is over . . .” She wanted to take her children and hide from the world. Avoid town. Avoid hospitals. Avoid . . . Bo.

  “They said they would take the matter into consideration,” Bo told his mother over dinner. He pushed his plate of lasagna aside. After rehashing the interview, he’d lost his appetite.

  “I think you’ll need a lawyer, and you definitely have to stay away from the Diener woman.”

  He wouldn’t agree with that until Nathan was released from the hospital and Amanda was back at home where she belonged. “I didn’t tell you yet. God performed a miracle.”

  “How so?”

  “Nathan Diener was in liver failure. The doctor said he needed a transplant in order to survive. God miraculously healed him.”

  “And the doctor said that?” She took a sip of wine.

  “No, he called it a ‘medical mystery.’ ”

  “Maybe it was.”

  Bo shook his head. “It was a miracle. Nothing can convince me otherwise.” He took a drink of water. “And while we’re on the subject of Nathan, he should be discharged from the hospital soon, Lord willing. Have you talked with Judge Steinway?”

  “I haven’t had a chance. But I’m meeting him tomorrow for brunch.”

  “Nathan’s been very sick. I’d hate for him to be discharged from the hospital only to be taken to a foster home. It will be better for everyone if the case is closed as soon as possible. Mattie can get back to her life and her children will have their mother.”

  She picked up her wine glass, brought it to her mouth, and paused long enough to ask, “And you?”

  He forced a smile.

  “I know how attached you become to your foster kids.”

  “Right.”

  “How about you leave the Diener children to me? I’ll make sure they get home and you won’t have to risk a permanent suspension.”

  Bo pondered her proposition. Nathan was on the mend. God would see to his complete recovery. It was best for Mattie and the children if he stepped aside and let his mother handle the legal matters. Bo sighed. “Okay.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Less than a week after Nathan opened his eyes, he was home. Mattie stood at the sink washing the morning dishes as Nathan and Amanda sat at the kitchen table, Nathan quietly drawing on a piece of paper and Amanda playing with the doll Mattie had sewn for her. She was blessed to have her children safely home. Although she wasn’t thrilled about the probation, the next six months would pass quickly, or so she hoped.

  Mattie missed Bo. He’d called every day while Nathan was in the hospital, but now that they were home, she hadn’t heard from him. She hadn’t realized just how much she had grown to need him. He’d filled a void, brought comfort during a time of emotional upheaval. Perhaps that was all Bo was meant to be—help through a difficult period, a means to propel her past grieving over Andy to being able to trust her heart to someone again. But if he was part of God’s transitioning plan, why wasn’t her life getting back to normal? Why did she feel displaced, as if something was missing? Home, but homesick.

  Mattie shook her head. She had to stop this pondering and move forward with her life. She drained the dirty dishwater, draped the washrag over the sink, then turned to Amanda and Nathan. “I have an idea,” she said with excitement. “Instead of being cooped up in the haus another day, let’s pick some berries to make a pie.”

  Nathan’s and Amanda’s faces lit, even though Nathan probably didn’t remember picking raspberries with her last year and Amanda had never gone. They scooted off the chair and helped Mattie gather the
wicker basket.

  Hiking through the woods in the cool of the morning proved adventurous. They spotted a few deer—which Amanda frightened with her squeal—numerous squirrels, and a woodpecker hammering on an old tree. Once they reached the berry patch, Mattie insisted they pick from the perimeter. She didn’t want them tangled in the thorns. Nathan and Amanda ate more than they collected, and Mattie picked enough to make a pie for Alvin. He’d been kind enough to tend to her beehives without her even asking. He deserved something special for all his hard work.

  The day was warming up by the time they returned home. The children’s faces were berry stained, their stomachs probably a little too full, and they didn’t fuss when Mattie put them down for a nap.

  While the children slept, Mattie processed honey. Grace had sold all that Mattie had, extorted almost three hundred dollars from the news crews. Mattie planned to drop off more jars at the Green Thumb Market later today.

  Her hands were sticky with honey when a knock sounded at the screen door. She wiped her hands on a wet dishrag. The caller knocked again, harder. Catherine Zimmerman was a bundle of nerves. Two-year-old Jenny was crying and so was Catherine’s two-month-old son, Mark.

  “Matthew’s had an accident at the mill,” her friend said. “Could you watch the kinner a few hours while I take him to the doktah? I would have asked Grace, but Mark has been cranky and with the chicken pox going around—”

  “Catherine, of course!” She extended her arms and Catherine handed her the baby.

  “I don’t know if he’ll take this,” her friend said, handing her a bottle of milk. Catherine bit her lip. “I hope he doesn’t give you a fit. He’s been irritable the last two days.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll get along fine.” Mattie rocked the crying baby gently in her arms. Mark was normally a happy baby. Perhaps he sensed his mother’s anxiety.

  Catherine bent in front of her daughter. “You be gut for Mattie. I won’t be long.”

  Jenny hugged her doll and sniffled.

  “Danki, Mattie,” Catherine called as she hurried to her buggy.

  Mattie smiled at Jenny. “Amanda and Nathan will be up from their naps soon,” she said in Pennsylvania Deitsch as they turned away from the door. She whispered a prayer for Catherine’s husband. A sawmill accident was a wife’s worst fear. The fact that Catherine hadn’t given any particulars was probably so she didn’t upset Jenny more. “Would you like a biscuit with honey?”

  The two-year-old nodded.

  Mattie made a makeshift crib for Mark by placing a pillow in one of her larger wicker baskets. As she lowered him into the basket, his arms flailed in jerky motions. He cried as Mattie placed a few already made biscuits on a baking sheet and slid them into the oven to warm. A short time later, she removed the pan from the oven, and while the biscuits were cooling, Mattie placed a dollop of honey on a spoon, then dipped her finger in the honey and licked her lips. She offered the spoon to Jenny to do the same. The toddler tasted the honey and smiled.

  By the time she sliced the biscuits and drizzled honey over them, Nathan’s bedroom door opened. He padded into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes. A few minutes later, Amanda fussed. After a quick diaper change, all the children, with the exception of Mark, were at the table snacking on their biscuits.

  Mattie warmed the milk bottle for Mark, then sat in the rocking chair next to the front, open window in the sitting room, where she hoped the summer breeze might soothe him. She offered him the bottle, but he refused. If Mark was anything like her children, at two months of age, they wouldn’t drink from a bottle either; she had never needed to pump or store her breast milk. But Mattie sensed Mark’s fussiness was something more. His abdomen was distended like he was bloated and gassy.

  Hearing buggy wheels crunch under the gravel, she glanced out the window. Alvin climbed out of the buggy, tromped up the steps, and tapped on the wooden screen door.

  “Kumm on in, Alvin,” she replied from the rocking chair.

  The door creaked open. “I thought I would—” He grimaced at the piercing pitch of Mark’s cry.

  She jostled the baby to her other arm. “There was an accident at the mill. I’m watching Catherine’s kinner.”

  “Jah, I was there when it happened.”

  “How badly was Matthew hurt?”

  Alvin curled his lip. “He severed three fingers and might lose another.”

  Something shattered in the kitchen. Mattie stood up and approached Alvin. “Hold the boppli a minute.” She handed him the baby without giving Alvin a chance to refuse.

  “I, ah . . . What am I going to do with a crying boppli?”

  “You’ll be fine. He’s just gassy,” she said, heading into the kitchen. Nathan stood on a chair at the counter, a broken jar of honey was splayed over the floor, and Jenny and Amanda had their hands deep in the sticky substance.

  Mattie grabbed Nathan as the chair he was standing on rocked. She set him on the floor away from the mess.

  Alvin entered the kitchen, a look of disgust on his face. “His diaper is soiled.”

  “I’ll get to him in a minute.”

  “It’s diarrhea,” he said. “It’s on mei shirt. Mei hands. You have to take him.”

  He could see what kind of jam she was in. Surely he could hold the baby a few more minutes. But Mattie bit her tongue. “Can you stop the girls from playing in the honey while I clean up the boppli, please?”

  “Jah,” he said, holding up his soiled hands. “I need to wash up first.”

  She took Mark into the bedroom. In Catherine’s frazzled state of mind, she’d forgotten to leave diapers. Mattie wet a warm washcloth, then laid the baby on a towel, and washed and powdered him. Before she could get one of Amanda’s cloth diapers on him, he soiled himself again. The massive amount of watery stool was alarming. She cleaned him again.

  When she returned to the kitchen, the children were crying, Nathan included, and Alvin was hunched over the gooey substance, picking up pieces of the broken jar. “I think they ate some of the glass.”

  “Did you see which one?”

  “Nay, but they were all playing in it and licking it off their hands.”

  She eyed the children hovered in the corner, honey smeared on the faces and dripping from their hands, and wanted to cry along with them.

  It took a little over an hour to bathe the children and change out of her own soiled and sticky clothes.

  Meanwhile, Alvin, who had volunteered to take her and the children to the emergency room, waited in his buggy. He was quiet on the way into town. Mattie dreaded going to the emergency room, but she didn’t have another option. She had to find out if they’d eaten glass.

  Alvin stopped the buggy next to the emergency room entrance. “How long do you think this will take? I have a few errands to run while I’m in town. Do you think I should kumm back in an hour?”

  Her jaw dropped. Didn’t he think she might need assistance with four children under the age of three in a busy emergency room? “I have no idea,” she snipped.

  “I’ll check back in an hour or so,” he said, not taking the hint.

  She wanted to tell him not to bother, that she would call Cora to pick her up, but she held her tongue. Alvin was a bachelor—understandably so.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Bo kept his promise to his mother and attended the gala. He even managed to force a smile through most of the event and only tugged on the collar of his tux a few times. But sitting through the gala’s five-course meal with Davis, her father, his mother, and several of her honored guests—including those representing Great Northern Explorations—proved challenging. Despite his mother’s nonverbal warnings from across the table, Bo couldn’t resist bringing up the subject of sinkhole disclaimers with the Great Northern Explorations attorney. Bo drilled the corporate attorney with specific questions regarding groundwater contamination and sinkholes and managed to alienate himself by the time the French onion soup was served.

  After a brief stint of silen
ce around the table, Davis leaned toward him and, resting her hand on his shoulder, whispered, “Insulting your mother’s biggest campaign supporters isn’t helping her.”

  Bo raised his brows at Davis, but said nothing. He had the main course, dessert, and a few special speakers to endure and then the night would be over.

  “By the way,” she said. “I like your tan. Time off from work has served you well.”

  “I’ve kept busy.” He’d spent most of his time outside taking care of his mother’s flower garden. Josh had worked a few days with him, even though the boy’s broken ribs limited what he could do.

  “We’ve all missed you at the office,” Davis continued. “I’ve been given another field assignment.”

  “Good for you.” He focused on a waiter approaching with a tray of food. He shifted to one side as the server set a steak before him. Bo thanked the server and waited patiently as the others at the table received their meals. Davis made small talk about the salmon she had ordered. Bo picked up his fork and knife and cut into his medium-rare filet. He savored the juicy flavor of every bite and was too full for dessert when it came.

  “The case should interest you,” Davis baited. “It’ll make headlines.”

  “Why is that?”

  The speaker approached the podium. The room quieted.

  “Ask me to dance when the music starts,” she said.

  He wasn’t staying that long. Once his mother gave her speech, he planned to leave. Besides, Davis wanted to manipulate him. It wouldn’t work. He’d seen Josh a couple of days ago and he was doing better at the Walkers’. His mother had arranged for Mattie to get her children back. Her file was closed. The cases he’d turned over to Norton were either closed or pending court dates.

  The audience applauded as his mother took the stage. She thanked those in attendance, talked briefly about her commitment to stimulate community growth, jobs, and improve roads, then introduced the orchestra.

  The music started and Davis looked his direction expectantly.

  “What game are you playing, Davis?”

  “It’s not a game. Unless the woman you fought so hard to defend is playing you like a fool.” She looked away.