by Beth Wiseman
“I’ll call an ambulance.” He raced to the call box next to the road, situated between both their houses. As he punched in the emergency number, he turned around to see Rachael hovering over her grandfather’s still body. Lord, be with Eli. He and Rachael have been through so much.
When he heard the dispatcher’s voice, he told her about Eli and gave her the address. He hung up the phone and ran back to the porch. Eli’s eyes were now open, but his gaze was transfixed on the porch ceiling.
“He’s not saying anything.” She looked at Gideon, terror in her eyes. “What’s wrong with him?”
His stomach dropped. “I don’t know, Rachael. I’m sorry, I don’t know.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Don’t send me flowers when I’m dead. If you like me, send them while I’m alive.
—BRIAN CLOUGH
Rachael paced in the emergency unit’s waiting room. The blare of the TV sounded behind her, the nasally voice of the woman reporting the news pounding in her head. She’d been allowed to ride to the hospital in the ambulance with her grandfather, but since then she had been relegated to the waiting room while they examined him in the back. She’d checked with the receptionist several times, but so far there was no word on her grandfather’s condition. The only hope she clung to was that her grandfather had been responsive in the ambulance, and even had enough energy to bicker with one of the emergency workers.
Unable to stand being inside anymore, she walked out of the hospital and down the steps leading to the emergency room drop-off. The sun beat down, its rays assaulting her with heat instead of warming her as they usually did. She sat on the edge of one step and dropped her head in her hands. Nothing mattered to her right now but her grandfather.
She closed her eyes and prayed. Lord, please don’t let him die. I’m not ready to lose him. He can be stubborn and nosy and downright foolish sometimes, but I love him. And I don’t want to let him geh.
She opened her eyes. She didn’t know how long she sat on the concrete step, praying for her grandfather’s healing, trying not to think the worst yet preparing herself to accept God’s will. Finally she stood and went inside, barely noticing the coolness from the air conditioning.
She sat back down, ignoring the inquisitive look from a Yankee woman in the waiting room. Just as she settled back in her chair, the double doors to the emergency treatment rooms opened. A nurse dressed in a dark-blue hospital uniform walked out.
“Rachael Bontrager?”
Rachael jumped from her seat and hurried to her. “Yes?”
“The doctor wants to speak with you.”
The knot in the pit of her stomach tightened. She followed the nurse down the hallway, the doors automatically shutting behind her. A few feet away she saw a man wearing a white coat, a stethoscope around his neck. He was writing notes on a thick clipboard when Rachael approached.
“Miss Bontrager, I’m Dr. Carr. I’ve been treating your grandfather.”
“How bad is it?”
The doctor removed his dark-framed glasses. “He’s going to be fine. We’re still running a few more tests, but from what we can gather, he hasn’t had another stroke.”
She let out a breath of relief. “Then what happened to him?”
“All we’ve been able to ascertain is that he was dizzy right before he fainted. That can happen for a number of reasons. He was dehydrated, so we’re giving him IV fluids right now.”
“Dehydrated? But we have plenty to drink around the house. Water, tea, and of course, coffee. He drinks a lot of that.”
“That could be the culprit. Too much caffeine can cause dehydration.”
She had no idea. “But he’s been a coffee drinker all his life. It’s never affected him this way before.”
The doctor nodded. “It’s possible, given his advanced age, that his body can’t tolerate the caffeine as well as it used to. But we’ll rule out other possibilities. Don’t worry, we’ll do a thorough examination of your grandfather.” He smirked. “If he’ll let us, that is.”
Rachael crossed her arms. “Is he giving you trouble?”
“He’s . . . lively.” The doctor flipped the chart closed. “He also wants to talk to you. Exam room number two. We’ll be moving him to the main hospital in a couple of hours. We want to keep him overnight to finish up the tests and make sure he’s well enough to go home.”
“All right.” She could feel the tension release from her shoulders. The doctor’s words bolstered her confidence. If her grandfather had passed out from dehydration, she’d make sure he drank twenty glasses of water a day.
She walked into the hospital room, stunned at all the machines near her grandfather’s bed. She’d never been in a hospital, and she couldn’t help but stare at the tubes and wires running from his arms to the various beeping machines. A nurse adjusted a clear tube leading from the middle of his arm to a pole. The hook at the end held a bag filled with what looked like water. The nurse looked at Rachael.
“They should have a room ready for your grandfather soon, Miss Bontrager.”
“I’m right here,” Grossdaadi grumped. “Don’t talk about me like I’m not.”
“Don’t worry, Mr. Bontrager.” The nurse touched his shoulder. “We’re all aware that you’re here.”
“Gut.” He looked at Rachael. “So when are you taking me home?”
The nurse passed by Rachael. “Good luck,” she said, shaking her head and leaving the room.
Rachael sat down on the chair nearest to the bed. “They’re keeping you overnight, Grossdaadi.”
“That’s what the doc said. But I’m not staying. I want to geh home.”
“I know, but let them figure out what happened to you.”
“I know what happened. I got dizzy. That’s it.”
“You passed out.” She looked down at his hand lying against the white sheet. Gnarled, rough, with ridges of veins on the top. “You’re also dehydrated.”
“I won’t be after this.” He held up his arm where the clear tube snaked out from underneath a bandage. She assumed that was the IV the doctor mentioned. Everything hit her with full force. Her grandfather was back in the hospital, uncomfortable, and hooked up to machines. Despite everything she did to take care of him, she’d failed. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Sorry?” He turned to her, frowning. “What are you sorry for?”
“This is mei fault.”
“What?”
“I shouldn’t have let you work out in the barn. I should have made sure you drank enough water. I should have—”
“Rachael.” In a rare show of affection, he took her hand and didn’t let go. “I want you to listen to me, all right?”
She looked at him, squeezed his hand, and nodded.
He stared at her for a moment. “I’ve said you’re just like your daed. And part of that is true.” His green eyes began to tear. “But you’re most like your grossmutter. She used to worry about me, you know. Afraid I would fall off the roof when I used to do roofing jobs. Worry I’d have an accident on a construction site. She’d tell me I ate too much, or ate too little.” He leaned his head back against the pillow. “And I used to give her a hard time too. Now I’d give anything to hear her nagging at me again.”
“She did it because she loved you.”
“I know.” He let go of her hand. “And I know that’s why you’re hovering over me all the time. But I want you to realize what your grandmother, for whatever reason, couldn’t. She wasn’t responsible for me. Neither are you.”
“But I promised Mamm and Daed I’d take care of you.”
He looked up at the ceiling. “Can’t exactly blame your daed for worrying. He got that trait from mei Martha. But your parents shouldn’t have put that burden on you.”
“You’re not a burden.”
“Ya, I am. I’m also a grown mann. I can take care of myself. And when the time comes that the Lord wants me in heaven, I’m ready.”
Rachael’s eyes stung with tears. �
��I’m not,” she croaked.
“Well, I don’t plan on going anywhere for a long time.” He looked at her again. “Tell you what. When I geh home, I’ll follow the doctor’s orders. Nee more complaining about rabbit food or arguing with you about taking a nap. But you have to do something for me. Two things, actually.”
“Anything.”
“First, stop worrying. That won’t make either of us live longer.”
“Okay. I’ll try.” She knew it wouldn’t be easy, but having this conversation with him was already providing her some relief. “What’s the other?”
“Quit spending so much time alone. That’s not natural for anyone. You’re always working in that gaarde, or doing chores, or worrying about me. You need to be with people your own age, not an old crust like me.”
“I don’t mind it.”
“You will, eventually. I know you’re working hard to make sure we have what we need. But the Lord will provide. He always has. So make some new friends. Geh to a singing.” He gave her a sly grin. “I know someone who would be glad to take you.”
A knock sounded on the door. The nurse came inside. “Mr. Bontrager, your room is ready. An orderly will be here to transport you in a few minutes.”
“Humph.” Then he looked at Rachael. She lifted a brow. “All right,” he said.
The nurse smiled. “You’re sounding better already.”
After the nurse left, Rachael closed the door and looked at her grandfather. “I’ll stay with you tonight. I’m sure you’ll be going home tomorrow.”
“That’s the spirit.” He smiled and shifted to a higher seated position in his bed. “So do we have a deal, grossdochder?”
Rachael grinned. “We have a deal.”
CHAPTER NINE
Help us to be faithful gardeners of the spirit, who know that without darkness nothing comes to birth, and without life nothing flowers.
—MAY SARTON
The next morning the doctor gave Rachael’s grandfather the all clear. “He’s good to go,” Dr. Carr said. He looked at Grossdaadi. “Remember to drink plenty of water, Mr. Bontrager. And cut back on the caffeine.”
He frowned. “Can I at least have dessert every once in a while?”
Dr. Carr looked at Rachael. “I don’t see why not. Everything in moderation.”
Rachael got up from the chair she’d slept in last night. While her grandfather had snored peacefully last night, she’d been in and out of sleep. She was as eager to get home as he was. “I’ll geh call us a taxi,” she said. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
“Gut. That will give me time to get out of this dumm hospital gown.”
She shook her head. “Glad to see you’re back to normal.”
He grew serious. “Me too.”
Rachael opened the door and started down the hallway toward the nurses’ station. They’d already given her permission to use the phone.
“Rachael.”
She turned around to see Gideon coming down the hall. Her heart thumped in her chest. She’d never been so happy to see him. Emotions overflowed inside her as she walked toward him.
“What are you doing here?” she asked when she reached him.
He looked down. Not at his shoes this time, but at her. “I came to take you home.”
Relief flooded her, bringing all the emotions she’d held together over the past twenty-four hours to the surface. Before she knew it, she was in his arms.
Gideon held Rachael, not worrying if anyone in the hallway was watching them. He rubbed her upper back with his hand. “It’s all right, Rachael.”
“He’s going to be okay,” she said against his chest.
“That’s what they told me.” He’d called last night and early this morning, checking on Eli’s status. After some cajoling on Gideon’s part, the nurse revealed that Eli was being released that morning. Gideon hired a taxi right away.
He resisted the urge to kiss the top of her head. “God is gut,” he said, his voice low.
Suddenly she moved away from him. She wiped her fingers underneath her beautiful green eyes. She looked exhausted. He didn’t blame her—he’d been scared when the ambulance pulled out of the Bontragers’ driveway. He’d wanted to hire a taxi and follow them. He wanted to be there for Rachael. But he couldn’t. Instead he went back to the farm, feeling helpless except for the prayers he offered while he was working.
“I’m sorry.” She brushed back the strings of her kapp.
“Don’t be.” He looked down at her. “The taxi is waiting outside.”
Rachael was quiet on the way home, but Eli was a steady stream of chatter. Gideon didn’t hear half of what he said, keeping an eye on Rachael. Everything would be okay, yet he wouldn’t stop worrying about her. Not until they were home.
A little more than thirty minutes later, the taxi pulled into Rachael’s driveway. “Oh nee,” she said, saying her first words since they’d left the hospital. She looked at Gideon. “I don’t have my purse.”
Eli reached into his pocket. But Gideon stopped him. “Don’t worry about it.” Gideon handed the driver his fare, and he and Rachael helped Eli out of the car.
“I don’t know about you two, but I’m bushed,” Eli said. “Didn’t sleep a wink last night.”
Rachael half-smiled. “You were sawing logs, Grossdaadi.”
“Was I? Well, I’m headed inside.”
“I’ll be right there to fix your lunch,” she called after him.
“There should be a zucchini casserole in the kitchen from Mamm,” Gideon said. “Hannah Lynn was supposed to drop it off while I picked you up, so it should still be warm.”
“Sounds delicious.” Eli looked at him. “You two take your time, ya?”
Gideon’s cheeks heated. He hadn’t fooled Eli. Seemed everyone knew how he felt about Rachael, except Rachael.
He expected her to follow her grandfather inside. Instead she watched him limp up the steps. “He’s going to be okay,” she whispered.
“Ya. He will.”
“I have to keep reminding myself of that.” She looked up at him. “Danki for picking us up. I’ll repay you for the taxi fare.”
“I won’t accept it.” He looked at her. The sun was high in the sky, partially covered by the flat, streaky clouds that had gathered across the sky over the morning. “You should geh inside and get some rest.”
“I can’t. I still have to take care of the horse—”
“Already done.”
She gave him a weary smile.
“Now. Geh inside. I’ll check on both of you tomorrow.”
“You don’t . . .”
He steeled himself for her refusal. This time he would ignore it. She needed his help, and he was glad to give it.
She gazed at him. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Stunned, Gideon waited until Rachael was inside. When he saw the hazy glow of a gas lamp shining through the window, he let out a long breath. Eli would be okay. Rachael would be okay.
And as he walked back home, he still remembered the feel of her in his arms.
Bright sunlight prodded Rachael to open her eyes. She stretched out, letting the sunbeams warm her for a moment, still stuck in the twilight of sleep, and remembering that she dreamed about Gideon.
Suddenly she bolted upright. Looked around the living room. She’d fallen asleep on the couch. She vaguely remembered eating a bit of the zucchini casserole, then sitting down for a moment. Lying back, just resting her eyes for a few minutes before she went upstairs to her room.
Instead, she’d spent the night in the living room, sleeping more deeply than she had in weeks.
She looked out the window. By the position of the sun in the sky, she knew she’d overslept. She went to her grandfather’s room. The door was slightly open, and she could hear his snoring, softer now than when he was in the hospital.
Rachael went into the bathroom and splashed some water on her face. She looked in the mirror, taking in her askew kapp and wrinkled dress. Knowing the hors
e would be hungry by now, she quickly repinned her kapp and straightened her light-blue dress.
In a hurry she went through the back door and to the barn to feed and water the horse. Her bare feet were soon drenched from the grass. Had it rained last night? She didn’t remember hearing a thing. As she came out of the barn, she glanced over at the Beilers’, a little disappointed she didn’t see Gideon.
She could still remember how it felt to be in his arms, to lean against him. He made her feel secure. Comforted. Like she wasn’t alone. She wanted to have that feeling forever. He’d been different with her at the hospital. Sure of himself. He’d known exactly what to do and what to say.
As she walked to her garden, she realized that yesterday had only cemented her feelings for him. And even though he wasn’t the one who had given her the flowers, she still had to tell him how she felt. She owed it to both of them.
Relaxed for the first time in a long while, she moved toward the garden gate . . . and froze. But it wasn’t the wide-open gate that caused the sick knot to form in her stomach.
The plants she’d planned to take to the flea market Monday were still on the ground outside the garden fence. In the chaos of her grandfather’s hospitalization, she’d forgotten all about them. As she neared, she could see that the tender leaves and stems were bent, even broken in some places. “Oh nee!”
She looked at her vegetable patch. It was flattened. Puddles of water gathered in small pockets in the soil. The tomatoes and bell peppers she’d planted two weeks ago were destroyed. Her cucumber frame lay on the ground. She picked up a cucumber. It was covered in pockmarks. The cornstalks were broken, partially mature ears of corn lying useless on the ground.
She ventured farther into the garden. The flowers were also victims. Her Impatiens, Pansies, Geraniums . . . all crushed. All ruined.
Rachael sank to the ground. The evidence was clear. Rain wouldn’t have done this kind of damage. But hail would have. Sometime during the night it had hailed, destroying almost everything.
