by Leslie Gould
I tried to smile at his childhood nickname for me, but even with the brace on, it hurt. Still, he hadn’t called me that in years.
He stepped closer, where I could see his brown eyes, the same color as mine. They were bright and caring. He hadn’t been drinking tonight. Hopefully he wouldn’t.
But a moment later, as the boys all took off in the direction of George’s truck, I feared that Timothy was trying to trick George—and that it was working. Someone still might get really hurt.
The driver slammed the back doors. A moment later first one of the cab doors shut and then the other.
The male EMT hit a switch that raised the platform I was on. Then lights filled the back window. My brothers were following in George’s pickup. When we reached the highway, though, they turned to the left after the ambulance turned right.
I could only guess where they were going. But I couldn’t imagine that they would find Jonathan, not if he’d already left. But if they did, having Timothy the Terrible along would only lead to even more trouble.
There wasn’t a radiologist working to read the X rays, so the ER doc made me keep the neck brace on and ordered me to spend the night. He also said I had a concussion, a pretty bad one. The nurses gave me medicine to stop the nausea I was feeling and kept the lights turned low.
I told Daed he should go on home.
“She’ll be fine,” the nurse said. “Come back in the morning.”
“I don’t have a ride,” Daed said.
“You could call Samuel,” I offered.
Daed shook his head. “He has work in the morning.”
“A taxi?” I closed my eyes. My head pounded.
“One of our aides is getting off soon,” the nurse said. “Where do you live? I’ll ask if he’s going your way.”
Daed thanked her. “You’ll be okay?” he asked.
I nodded, my eyes still closed. Actually I’d be better off alone.
Maybe Daed sensed that, because he didn’t say any more until the nurse came in and said she’d arranged a ride for him.
“Good night,” Daed said to me.
I opened one eye. “See you tomorrow?”
“Jah.”
Once my earthly father left, I remembered my unfinished prayer to my heavenly Father, the one I’d started as I’d stepped out onto the trellis.
“Be with Jonathan,” I whispered now. I felt God’s comfort as if he were beside me. Denki, for your care. I didn’t have the energy to speak out loud any longer. And that I’m really never alone.
I dozed after that, but a nurse awakened me a little while later to give me another medication. After that I slept soundly, although my dreams raced from one thing to another. I was in the woods with Jonathan, but then he turned into Mutter. She climbed a tree. Jonathan’s father started to chop it down. Daed pushed him away. Mutter fell anyway, and I caught her, but she turned into Aenti Nell by the time she landed in my arms. Joe-Joe fell in the creek. I stooped to scoop him out, but Jonathan caught him on one of the fishing poles he’d carved. Jonathan pulled up blades of grass and started twisting them. The braid grew longer and longer and longer until it landed in the creek and flowed along like water. It was only then I realized I’d been dreaming.
It took me a minute to remember where I was when I awoke. Light streamed through the crack in the window covering, where it hadn’t been pulled shut completely. The soft blankets touched my chin, as if someone had tucked me in.
It was then that I sensed someone else beside me—a weight against the bed. Perhaps Daed had returned already. I started to turn my head, but the pain increased and I stopped for a moment, until my eyes fell on a bottle on the little table scooted partway over the bed. Why would the nurse leave medicine out like that? I shifted an inch more.
Jonathan was sitting in a chair pulled next to the bed, his head on the edge of the mattress, his hand extended toward the bottle.
I gasped, which made my headache worse. I closed my eyes against my fear.
My brothers hadn’t found Jonathan. Somehow he’d known to come to the hospital anyway and found me as bad off as George and then Molly had warned. Perhaps he thought I’d jumped from a building or maybe a bridge. Surely, looking at me he thought I’d tried to take my life. Maybe he’d thought I was comatose or even brain dead.
And now there was a bottle of pills. He was passionate yes, but I hadn’t thought he was stupid. Could it be . . . ?
I struggled to open my eyes again, to turn my head directly to look at him, but couldn’t. Instead I sank back against the pillow, my heart racing, praying I was having another dream.
When I heard my mother scream, I knew for sure I wasn’t.
“Addie!” Mutter bellowed like a cow that had lost her calf.
My eyes flew open. Jonathan stirred beside me.
“Thank you, Lord,” Mutter and I groaned in unison.
She collapsed on the end of my bed, Daed right behind her, as I reached for Jonathan’s hand, patting the bed until he grabbed mine.
“I thought you were—” Mutter gasped—“both dead.”
Jonathan leaned over me, and I could finally see his face and the questioning expression on it.
I pointed. “The bottle.”
Mutter gasped again. “I thought you’d both overdosed.”
“We wouldn’t do that,” Jonathan said, but then gazed into my eyes. “Would we?”
“No,” I whispered. It hurt my head to talk. “I fell. Climbing from my window. Trying to get to you.”
“Jah,” he said. “That’s what the nurse said, but I needed to know for sure.”
I pointed, as best I could, to the bottle. “Are those yours?”
He nodded. “From my naturopath. My stomach hurt worse once I got back to Big Valley. I called Molly when I arrived in Paradise. When she told me what happened to you, that you were here, it flared up again. And worse once I made it to the hospital. That’s all.” He picked up the bottle. “I put one under my tongue. . . .”
I would have laughed—if I could have.
Daed stepped closer to me, ignoring Jonathan. “Are you better?”
“Jah,” I answered, “I think so.” The truth was, I felt worse, but that was to be expected. The doctor said even if there was no permanent damage to my neck it would hurt for several days.
“The radiologist is looking at your X rays now,” Daed said. “They’ll let us know.”
I touched my forehead.
Mutter noticed. “Is everything all right?”
In some ways things were all right. I had no desire to please my parents at that moment, and funny thing, for the first time in forever I knew my parents did care about me. My father riding along in the ambulance and coming right back this morning. My mother screaming at the thought of me appearing to be dead.
Neither of those reactions were because they cared about what others thought.
And now, flat on my back, helpless, unable to do anything, I felt God’s love for me in a way I never had before. He didn’t care how capable I was. He cared how dependent I was on him. I felt as if, finally, I was getting to know him better.
In that sense, things were all right.
But what wasn’t right was that my parents were pretending—now that he was obviously okay too—as if Jonathan didn’t exist.
“Actually . . . everything’s not okay.” I closed my eyes.
“Should I ring for the nurse?” Daed asked.
“No. You should acknowledge Jonathan. Pretending he’s not here won’t make him go away. Avoiding the fact that we care for each other won’t make us stop.” I continued to keep my eyes closed.
No one moved, as far as I could tell. No one said a word.
Finally, Jonathan said, “I know this is hard on the two of you, but we should try to work things out.”
As difficult as it was not to open my eyes—especially after Mutter gasped again—I kept them closed, until I heard Timothy call out, “How is she?”
My lids flew open. He
rushed into the room, followed by George and Danny. All three were wearing the same shirts as the night before, now wrinkled, and looked as if they hadn’t slept. Jonathan stood.
I put my hand out, as if I could stop Timothy.
“Man,” he said to Jonathan, “we’ve looked everywhere for you. And here you are with Toad.”
There were more footsteps in the hall and someone—Mervin?—yelled, “Wait up!”
Martin scooted into the room first, followed by Mervin.
“What’s going on?” Daed asked.
George was out of breath as he spoke. “We couldn’t find Jonathan last night so we went and got Mervin and Martin this morning—and then decided to come here.”
“So”—my eyes found Timothy—“you’re all friends now?”
He shrugged. “Well, I was still thinking about getting even last night, even after you were hurt. But we hashed it out when we grabbed these guys.” He jerked his thumb toward Mervin and Martin. “It was a misunderstanding, really.”
“Jah,” Mervin said. “At that party when we told him to leave Tabitha alone it was because he’d been drinking, but—”
Timothy interrupted. “I thought it was because I was a Cramer.”
I wanted to shake my head in disbelief, but the neck brace stopped me.
“Jah,” Martin said, stepping forward where I could see him. “We’re really sorry for the part we played in all of this. And that you got hurt, Addie.”
“But there’s still the problem with our Dats, jah?” Timothy turned toward Daed.
“And your drinking,” I said.
Timothy shook his head.
“No, it’s true.” My voice grew stronger. “You have a problem.”
He crossed his arms and the room froze.
“Addie . . .” Mutter said.
But Daed said, “Son, your Schwester is right. It’s time we sought some help. I’m afraid where this might end if we don’t.”
“You don’t know what your talking about.” Timothy’s eyes narrowed.
“Listen to your Dat,” Mervin and Martin said in unison.
“Jah,” George said. “You’re lucky you didn’t hurt someone when you had your accident. You’ve got to stop.”
Danny, Mervin, Martin, and George all started talking at the same time as Timothy backed away from the foot of the bed.
“Quiet!” I didn’t recognize the voice, but then a new nurse, middle-aged with short dark hair and a scowl that rivaled Mutter’s, appeared behind Timothy. “What happened to you all being a peaceful lot?”
Before anyone could answer, she put her hands on her hips. “Everybody out!” she ordered.
“Everybody?” Mutter said.
“Addie can choose one of you to stay.”
Jonathan stood.
“No,” I said. “Don’t go.”
He shook his head. “I’ll come back. I should go talk this out with your Dat and Bruders. And with Mervin and Martin too.”
“Good,” Mutter said. “Because I’m staying.”
The men filed out as the nurse said, “There’s a conference room to the right you can use.”
“Denki,” Jonathan said, the last to leave.
Mutter closed the door behind him and settled down on the edge of the bed. “You’ve really made a mess of things,” she said.
This time I kept my eyes open. “All these years I felt as if what I wanted didn’t matter—as if what I needed didn’t matter. But I finally found something that matters more than being who you want me to be.”
She inched closer to me. “The Lord says to honor your parents.”
“Jah, but pleasing isn’t honoring.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve been trying to manipulate me all along when it came to Jonathan Mosier. And now I know why.”
Her face reddened.
Before I could say more, my door flew open again—Dirk Mosier stood with his hat in his hands.
His face fell. “Addie. Laurel. Sorry,” he muttered. “I thought Jonathan was here.”
“He is,” I answered. “In the room next door.”
He closed the door quickly.
Mutter’s face had turned from red to white as the door closed. “What do you mean,” she said, turning to me, “that honoring your parents isn’t the same as pleasing them?”
“Honoring you means to respect you—which I do. But it also means putting my trust in God, not in you and Daed.” I took a deep breath. “Pleasing you means to make you happy. That’s not up to me.”
“Who told you that?”
I hesitated and then said, “I came up with it on my own. But the ideas came from a conversation with Hannah.”
Mutter rolled her eyes. “I knew they shouldn’t have taken her to that place.”
“It probably saved her life.”
Mutter shook her head.
“Back to what I was talking about before we were—”
Someone knocked on the door, and Mutter bounced from the bed and hurried to open it.
“I came as soon as Nell told me.” It was Onkel Bob’s voice, but I couldn’t see him. “How is she?”
Mutter opened the door wider. Onkel Bob, his face full of concern, stepped to the end of the bed, followed by Aenti Nell.
“I’m fine,” I said to my Onkel, wincing a little as I spoke. “But we need your help. Daed and Dirk and all the boys are in the conference room next door. Could you join them?”
Onkel Bob glanced at Mutter, who was back at my side. She shrugged. I nodded, as best I could with the neck collar on.
“Jah,” Onkel Bob said. “I’m happy to do what I can.”
“Denki,” I whispered, waving my hand at Aenti Nell and then closing my eyes against the throbbing in my head.
“You should wait in the hall,” Mutter said to my Aenti. I didn’t have the energy to say it was okay if she stayed in the room.
I sensed Mutter settling into the chair against the wall, keeping her distance from me. “I’ll let you rest,” she said.
Sleep sent me back down to the creek, this time at night, chasing fireflies with Jonathan.
Mutter’s plan to let me rest—and my dream—lasted until Dirk Mosier’s voice startled both of us.
“Let’s ask Laurel,” he said from the hall.
I opened my eyes.
“I’ll get her.” It was Daed, stepping into my room. “Come with me,” he said to Mutter, as serious as I’d ever seen him.
“No.” It was time for me to take charge of our two chaotic households. “Tell the others to come back in here.” I struggled to sit up a little more in the bed.
Daed gave Mutter a questioning look. She shook her head. “I’ll go with Daed.”
“No.” My voice was firm.
“Addie, this is too much stress,” Daed said to me.
“It will be more stressful if you don’t.”
It sounded as if Mutter sat back down in the chair, but I didn’t try to turn my head to make sure. Daed’s footsteps fell across the linoleum.
The boys came in first. Timothy, George, and Danny stopped at the end of my bed, while Jonathan stepped to the side closest to my head, followed by Mervin and Martin.
Onkel Bob entered next and stood next to Martin, followed by Dirk, and then Daed, who stepped to the side by Mutter. Finally Aenti Nell came in, stopping at the wall beyond the end of my bed.
Onkel Bob cleared his throat. “It seems as if it’s time for me to meddle.” He paused for a moment. “We’ll start with the question Dirk has for Laurel.”
I couldn’t see any of them, just my Bruders at the end of the bed.
“Why did you blame me for those letters?” Dirk asked.
Mutter’s voice sounded teary. “I didn’t. Others did. Because of the words. And the handwriting. Cap was sure it was you.”
A bolt of pain shot through my head.
“There’s no use rehashing all of this,” Daed said. “It happened years ago.”
“I was wrongl
y accused,” Dirk said. “And the one person who could have spoken up for me didn’t.” He glared at my Daed.
I turned my head as much as I could toward my parents. “Mutter,” I said. “Daed already knows. So do I. We read the letters.”
Her face grew as white as the sheets on my bed.
“Go on,” I said. “We both still love you. But you should tell the truth.”
She opened her mouth and then gulped, as I imagined someone about to drown might do.
Daed put his arm around her.
She patted her apron pocket and slipped her hand into it, taking something out. When she unfolded it, I realized it was the empty envelope from the night before.
“I found this in your room,” she said. “This morning. On the floor. I searched all over for the letters. When I couldn’t find them I hoped I’d destroyed them years ago.”
I turned my gaze to Daed.
“I did, last night,” he said.
Mutter’s voice was barely audible. “So you believe I wrote them, then?”
Daed didn’t answer.
She held up the envelope, turning it first to Onkel Bob and then to Dirk. “Jah,” she said. “I did. But I didn’t mean to implicate Dirk. I didn’t know he wrote like that. I just wanted to get Cap’s attention because it seemed, once he got to really know me, he was slipping away, just as Dirk had. I thought if I received these letters saying how I shouldn’t marry him, but he saw me only growing more committed to him, it would win his heart.”
Daed grimaced.
Mutter folded the envelope and slipped it back into her pocket. “But it wasn’t until everyone assumed Dirk was writing the letters that my plan began to work. Cap was furious with you.” She was looking straight at Dirk now, or so I assumed without being able to turn my head. “And even more so after you said those horrible things that night at the party.”
She swiped at her eyes. “I never meant for it to get so out of hand.” She turned to Daed. “To ruin your friendship with your best friend. Everything snowballed.”
“Why didn’t you speak up?” Daed asked, his voice raw with pain.
“And lose you?” Mutter shook her head. “After a while I started to believe the lie myself, and it was easier to blame Dirk for the pain I felt in ruining your friendship than myself. Then when Dirk came back for Nell—”
