Reckless Heart (Kauffman Amish Bakery 5.5)

by Amy Clipston

  “Oh,” Tristan said after a moment. “I’m glad it’s going well for your sister. I hope she’s doing better soon. I’m sure it has to be hard for your whole family.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “How was your day? You had to start school, ya? Or did you get to skip since you already completed your exams?”

  “No, I don’t get a free pass, but it’s okay,” Tristan said with a shrug. “I’m the new kid, so I’m trying to find my way. It seems like a waste of time since the year is almost over, but I have to get acclimated and all that.” He motioned quotation marks with his fingers for emphasis.

  “Have you heard from Lexi?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” he said. “She’s having a hard time because she misses seeing me every day. But I promised her I’d come visit after school is over.”

  “I bet you’ve been busy since you’re going to school and also unpacking the house, ya?”

  He nodded. “I’m also studying for my driver’s test. I guess you don’t have to worry about that, right?”

  Lydia shook her head. “No. Some kids get their license during their running around time, but it’s not something I’m interested in doing. I don’t think my parents would like it very much, and I don’t want to be a bad role model for my younger siblings.”

  Tristan raked his hands through his messy dark hair. “I can understand that. How are things at home with your mom and baby sister gone?”

  Lydia folded her hands over her apron and debated how much to share with her new friend. “Things are …” She paused, trying to think of a word to describe how she felt, but there were no words. Her emotions were a conflicting and confusing mess ranging from fear to frustration. “I don’t know how to describe it.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “If it’s too personal, then you don’t need to share.”

  “No, it’s okay,” Lydia said. “Actually, I think it might make me feel better if I talk about it. It seems like I’m so busy taking care of everyone else and working that I don’t get much time for me anymore. I don’t mean to sound selfish, but I’m afraid I’m going to lose myself with all this stress.”

  His expression was full of empathy. “That makes perfect sense. You’re dealing with a lot. Just hearing that your baby sister is sick is a lot to handle.”

  “Thank you,” Lydia said, absently smoothing her black apron. “You’re right. We knew she was sick, but it was a shock when we found out she had leukemia.” She looked out across the field.

  “Well, how are you doing everything?” His expression was filled with compassion and empathy.

  Lydia bit her lower lip. “I’m doing okay. It’s hard though. I have to take care of Titus and Irma, as well as work my two jobs, and clean house and cook.”

  “That is a big burden to carry.” His expression conveyed empathy for what she was going through. “Sounds like you’re getting a crash course in adulthood.”

  “That’s very true.” She sniffed as her eyes welled up with tears. It felt strange to be confiding so much in a boy she barely knew, let alone crying in front of him. But Tristan was so easy to talk to. “I feel guilty for thinking this, but I keep wondering if I’ll ever be able to go back to a normal life.”

  “I’m sure you will. You’ll have to hang in there for a while, but God won’t abandon you.”

  Lydia was speechless for a moment. He’s a Christian! She cleared her throat.

  “I think you’re right,” she finally said as she wiped her eyes.

  The door opened with a bang, causing Lydia to jump. Her father stepped onto the porch and glanced back and forth between Lydia and Tristan as a scowl turned down his lips.

  A chill skittered up Lydia’s spine. Uh oh. Dat’s smile is gone.

  “Lydia?” Dat asked. “What’s going on here?”

  “Dat.” Lydia popped up from the swing. “This is my friend, Tristan. He’s the bu who moved into the Fitzgeralds’ house.” She forced a smile, hoping his expression would relax. “Remember when Irma, Titus, and I took them treats from the bakery?”

  Dat stared down at Tristan. “It’s very late.” He turned to Lydia. “It’s time to get ready for devotions.”

  “Yes, Dat.” Lydia gave Tristan an apologetic look. “I need to head inside now.”

  Tristan stood and got his bicycle. “It was nice meeting you, Mr. Bontrager.” He smiled at her father, who didn’t return the gesture. “I was very sorry to hear about your daughter. I hope she’s better soon.” After pausing for a beat, he climbed onto the bike and looked at Lydia. “Take care, Lydia. I’ll see you soon.”

  Before she could respond, Tristan took off down the driveway toward the road.

  “What were you thinking, Lydia?” her father asked.

  “It wasn’t planned,” Lydia said. “He appeared on his bike and asked if we could visit for a few minutes. I didn’t invite him, but I thought it would be rude to send him away. He only wanted to know how Ruthie and our family are doing.”

  Dat shook his head. “Lydia, he’s English. Do you know how this would look if the bishop stopped by and found him here visiting you alone on the porch at night?”

  “We’re just friends, Dat,” Lydia insisted, her voice spiking up an octave. “He’s our neighbor. Why can’t I visit with my neighbor?”

  “Seeing him at the market is one thing, but visiting alone on a dark porch is something else completely,” he said. “How would this look to the parents of your students? How would they feel if they knew you were out meeting English buwe? This is not a habit they would like you to teach their kinner.”

  “I’m not out meeting English buwe, Dat.” Anger swelled within her. “I was just talking to a friend. He’s very nice, and so is his family.”

  Dat’s scowl deepened. “You know this behavior is completely unacceptable. I advise you not to do this again.” He opened the door. “Get inside. It’s getting late.”

  Frowning, Lydia stepped through the door to the kitchen. She wondered what part of her life would fall apart next.

  9

  On Saturday morning, Lydia’s heart flip-flopped as the van drove into the hospital parking lot. She’d read in the booklet that chemotherapy could have devastating effects, and she worried that Ruthie wouldn’t be up to their visit, which would disappoint both Titus and Irma.

  The van parked at the curb, and while her father spoke to the driver, Lydia gathered Titus and Irma on the sidewalk.

  “Now remember,” Lydia warned them. “We must behave in the hospital. We have to be quiet and respectful since many ill people are here. We can’t be loud in the hallways.”

  Titus nodded and adjusted his coat over his best Sunday shirt and vest. Lydia had told him to look his best to make their mother happy.

  “I know.” A smile curled up Irma’s little lips. “I’m excited to see Ruthie, Mamm, and Mammi.” She held up a card she’d made with construction paper the night before. “I can’t wait to give this to Ruthie. Maybe she’ll hang it on her wall.”

  Lydia smiled and touched the top of Irma’s prayer covering. “I bet she will love it.”

  “Let’s go,” Dat said, heading for the large glass door. “The van will be back here to pick us up at four.” He held a small cooler that contained their lunch, which Lydia had packed before they’d left the house that morning.

  Lydia took Irma’s hand and held her back while the automatic doors opened.

  “Wow,” Irma whispered. “How’d that door open on its own?”

  “They’re electric doors,” Dat said. “A lot of English buildings have them.”

  Irma’s eyes were wide with wonder as she stepped through. She turned back to watch them close, and Lydia tugged her along.

  “Keep moving, Irma,” Lydia said with a smile. “Ruthie is waiting for us.”

  After checking in at the desk, Dat led them to a bank of elevators.

  Irma stared again in wonder at another set of large doors. “What’s this?”

  “It’s called an elevator,” Dat said, an
amused smile gracing his lips.

  Lydia couldn’t help but smile along with him and enjoy the excitement in her sister’s eyes.

  “Elevator,” Irma repeated the word. “I can’t wait to see what it does.” She looked around the spacious lobby where people dressed in a variety of clothing styles moved about. “This place is so interesting! It’s so different from our district. I’ve never seen so many people.”

  Lydia grinned. “Ya, it is interesting to see all of these different people at the hospital.”

  The elevator doors opened with a whoosh. Dat stepped on and gestured for them to follow. Holding Irma’s hand, Lydia tugged her inside.

  Dat pointed to the lighted numbers on the plate in front of him and told them the floor where Ruthie’s room was located. “Would you like to push the number for the floor?”

  Irma giggled and mashed her little fingertip on the number. The elevator took off, and Irma jumped back, gripping the handrail behind her. “This is schpass!”

  Titus chuckled and shook his head. “You’re so gegisch.”

  Lydia beamed as her family shared a laugh. She wished she could freeze this moment in time.

  When they stepped off the elevator, Lydia took Irma’s hand as they followed her father to a reception desk. A woman in bright pink scrubs sat surrounded by a computer and stacks of papers.

  Irma tugged Lydia’s hand and pointed to colorful paintings of animals on the walls. “Look at that,” she whispered. “It looks like the pictures of Noah’s ark we have in our books at school.”

  “Ya,” Lydia said, leaning down to her. “You’re right.”

  Irma pointed out a giraffe, a cow, and an elephant, while her eyes remained wide with wonder.

  “Kumm,” her father said. “We must go this way.”

  The nurse led them down a long hallway, and Irma pointed out the colorful images of animals and children on the walls during their journey. They stopped outside a closed door, and the nurse faced them.

  “Hi,” she said. “My name is Jenna and I’m a nurse here. I need you each to wear a special mask so you don’t give your sister any germs.” She pulled a blue facemask from a box on the wall and handed one to each of them, then explained how to put it on.

  Irma giggled while Lydia helped her. Titus examined his mask and looked confused.

  “Let me help you,” Dat said, his voice muffled behind his own mask. He assisted Titus while Lydia put on hers.

  “Now,” Jenna said, addressing Lydia and her siblings. “Your sister may be very tired. She’s been taking a lot of medicine, and sometimes it upsets her tummy. She may not want to talk, but I’m certain she’ll be happy to see you.”

  Glancing at her father’s apprehensive expression, Lydia’s stomach seemed to turn over. How bad were things behind that door?

  When the nurse opened the door, Lydia saw her grandmother. She was holding a small dishpan while sitting in a chair next to Ruthie’s bed. When she looked over at them, her eyes widened with surprise, and she quickly placed the dishpan on the small table beside the bed. Although Lydia couldn’t see her grandmother’s mouth because of the mask she was wearing, the crinkles around her eyes illustrated her joy at their presence.

  Irma looked unsure as she slowly stepped into the room with her eyes focused on Ruthie. She approached the bed with caution and then turned to her grandmother. “How is she?” she asked, her voice muffled behind the mask.

  “She’s doing okay, mei liewe. She’s just very tired right now.” Mammi touched Irma’s head. “I’m certain she’ll be very froh when she wakes up and sees you, your siblings, and your dat.”

  Lydia looked around the room, taking in the scenery her baby sister must have become accustomed to seeing daily. Her eyes moved to a television screen on the wall, which displayed an animated television program. It felt surreal to Lydia to hear noise from a television, though the sound was very low. She assumed the television served as background noise, a mere distraction to the worry and fear floating around the hospital room.

  She stepped over to the bed and placed her hand on the cool plastic bedrail. As she’d feared, Ruthie’s skin was pasty white, and her little body was almost bony. She touched her sister’s thin blonde braids and suspected her hair may have started to fall out. Glancing over to the pillowcase beside her, she saw a few strands of hair, and her heart sank.

  “Ich liebe dich,” Lydia whispered. “You’re in my prayers day and night, sweet Ruthie.”

  “Where’s Mamm?” Irma asked while sitting on Mammi’s lap.

  “She went to get something to eat,” Mammi said, hugging Irma close. “Tell me all about school.” She gestured for Titus to come across the room. “Sit with us, Titus. You tell me about school too.”

  While the children talked to their grossmammi, Dat sidled up to Lydia. “She looks sick,” he whispered. “Look at her pale face.” He touched Ruthie’s arm, and she shifted onto her side while continuing to sleep. “My poor boppli.”

  Lydia saw tears glistening in her father’s eyes, and her lips trembled. She prayed he wouldn’t cry. She needed him to be strong because her courage had begun evaporating when they stepped into the hospital room.

  “Let’s sit,” he said, moving toward two chairs lining the wall. “She needs to sleep.”

  Lydia looked around the room again, taking in the bright paintings and pictures of children, animals, and rainbows. She wondered if the pictures gave her sister comfort and joy. She hoped so, as they seemed to be having the opposite effect on her. Lydia was sure she’d never see the primers in her classroom the same way again.

  Did Ruthie even understand what was happening to her? Was she afraid? Did she believe God would make her well?

  Lydia glanced back at her sister in the bed. Sometimes I’m not even sure.

  Irma and Mammi continued to talk, while Titus gave one-word answers to Mammi’s questions about school and their friends.

  The door opened again, revealing their mother wearing a mask and holding a tray with six cups. She stepped into the room. “Hello,” she said, her voice muffled like everyone else’s and a smile around her eyes. “I was hoping you’d be here when I returned.”

  Irma popped up and rushed over to Mamm, causing her to stumble forward. “Mamm!”

  Dat stood and took the tray from Mamm’s hands, and she leaned down and hugged Irma. “It’s so gut to see you. Come sit with me.” She crossed the room and sank into a chair beside Titus while pulling Irma onto her lap. “Wie geht’s?”

  Irma began to repeat the same school stories she’d told Mammi, and Mamm listened with interest. She looked across the room and gave Lydia a smile with her eyes, and Lydia breathed a sigh of relief. It was so good to see her mother.

  Mammi stood and motioned for Lydia to follow her. “Lydia and I are going to go for a walk. We’ll be back soon.”

  Lydia followed Mammi out to the hallway. She pulled off her mask as they headed toward a sitting area near the nurses’ station.

  “I thought you might like to talk,” Mammi said, looping her arm around Lydia’s shoulders as she so often did.

  Lydia sighed. “We’re managing.” She didn’t want to tell her grandmother she was so exhausted that she feared she might not be able to get out of bed some days. Or that some nights she cried herself to sleep and prayed that life would be normal when she awoke in the morning.

  “Sit. Tell me.” Mammi motioned toward the sofa in the sitting area. “How are things at home?”

  Lydia sank onto the leather sofa. “We’ve had some rough days, but, all in all, we’re okay.” She studied Mammi’s eyes. “How is Ruthie? Is she okay? How’s my mamm?”

  Mammi sat beside Lydia. “Ruthie has been very ill from the chemotherapy. She’s been sick, which is why I was holding the dishpan. I don’t know if you noticed how pale she is.”

  “And her hair?” Lydia asked softly, her voice trembling.

  “Ya.” Mammi pushed a stray strand of hair that had escaped Lydia’s bun back from her chee
k. “She’s starting to lose her hair.” Her expression brightened. “However, the doctors are optimistic that the medicine is doing its job. They said we should have gut test results soon.”

  “And my mamm?” Lydia asked, feeling hopeful. “How is she holding up?”

  “She has moments when she’s strong and moments when she’s not so strong, which can be expected.” Mammi gave her a gentle smile. “Your mamm is very courageous. You’re just like her too. I’m very proud of you for taking care of your siblings. I spoke with your dat yesterday, and he said you are doing an outstanding job, despite the stress and worry in the house.” She touched Lydia’s nose. “You’re a very gut maedel. Please keep it up.”

  “Danki,” Lydia said. “I promise I’ll do my best.” But I don’t know how much longer I can hold on without passing out from exhaustion and stress.

  “Lydia!” Irma called, running down the hallway toward them.

  “Irma,” Lydia said. “Slow down and don’t yell. Remember what I told you about behaving in the hospital?”

  “I know,” Irma said, bending over in an attempt to catch her breath. “Ruthie is awake and she’s asking for you. You must come back to the room now.”

  Lydia followed Irma back down the hallway, putting on their masks before entering the room. Her heart swelled with hope when she saw Ruthie sitting up in bed and smiling at Titus, who was sharing a story about the stray kittens that lived in the barn. Although she looked so tiny and pale, her blue eyes were bright as she listened to him describe the colors of the different little kittens who’d been born just last week. Irma’s homemade card sat next to her, along with Snuggles, the stuffed orange cat, and Hannah, her favorite cloth doll she’d brought from home.

  Ruthie turned toward Lydia and raised her arms. “Lydia!”

  “Hi, Ruthie,” Lydia said. “How are you feeling?”

  “Gut.” Ruthie pointed toward the stuffed cat. “I’m taking gut care of Snuggles. I’m so froh I have Snuggles and Hannah with me. They stay by me all the time, even when I get my medicine.”

  “I’m so froh that you have them too,” Lydia said. “It’s important that you keep your friends close by all the time.”