“Back to sleep, bopplin. Miss Annie is here to see your bruder.” Martha Hooley walked across the room to greet Annie, took her coat, gloves, and scarf, then peered past her into the darkness. “Is Joshua coming?”
“He’s in the barn with my bruder, Adam, and your husband.” Annie moved to the stove to warm her hands. “They were tending to the horses.”
“And I suspect they’ll stay there for a while. The house is a bit crowded, and since I moved the little ones out here there’s less room for reading or socializing.”
“I wouldn’t worry about the men, Martha. They’ll be fine in the workroom.” Annie glanced at the makeshift bed and the three boys, then back at Martha. “Why did you move the younger children to the living room? Are you afraid Daniel is contagious?”
“I don’t know.” Martha swiped at her graying hair, rubbed at her eyes, and sank into a chair at the kitchen table. “I honestly don’t know. It seemed the safest thing to do, and then with Daniel waking up and needing my attention, they weren’t sleeping much in their bedroom.”
Annie nodded as the small stove’s warmth chased the cold from her arms and legs.
“I remember when you were a little girl,” Martha said, her voice mingling with the quiet crackling of the fire. “I’d see you at school when I walked down to pick up Joshua. Now you’re a grown woman and a medical practitioner too.”
Annie crossed the room, pulled out a chair next to Martha, and covered the older woman’s hand with her own. “I remember you as well. I’m not sure what you’ve heard, but you know I went away a few years to live with my mamm’s schweschder.”
Martha swiped again at her hair, looked into Annie’s face with hope.
“I had a bit of medical training while I was there—nothing more. I won’t be misrepresenting myself, Martha.” Annie paused and waited for the woman to accept what she was saying. “If I can help your kind, I will. But if I think he needs to go to the Englisch doctor, then I’ll be telling your husband myself it’s what needs to be done.”
“Ya, and I would expect you to do as much. You have your mother’s directness.”
“I understand your situation with Samuel, but he certainly has more experience than I do.”
“I’ve tried to tell Simon the same thing.” Martha’s voice cracked for the first time since Annie had entered the home. “He won’t budge on that, though. Don’t judge him too harshly, Annie. Simon cares for his children, and though pride is a sin—”
A coughing from the adjoining bedroom interrupted their conversation.
The three children in the living room again popped up, glancing first to their mother, then to Annie.
Martha stood, motioned for Annie to follow her.
Annie started into the adjoining room, then turned, and walked back to the front door, and picked up her mother’s quilted bag. Pausing again in the kitchen, she stopped at the sink and washed her hands.
By the time she reached the bedroom, Martha was sitting close to the bed.
Glancing around, Annie could tell that this was normally the room all four children shared. Like the front room, no Christmas candle decorated the window. In fact, the room could be described as sparse, even for Amish folk.
Four hooks positioned on the wall opposite the bed held clothing. Under that was an extended cubby for shoes, and above the hooks ran a shelf for hats.
Joshua must sleep up in a loft, and no doubt the parents’ room was next door. It was a small, snug home—simply built and clean.
Suddenly Annie remembered the Hooleys had all boys— someone had made a joke at one of the Sunday meetings about the fact that Simon Hooley would one day need more land— with five strapping boys able to do so much work, and one day bound to marry and build homes of their own on the family place.
Looking at the exhausted little boy lying spent under the covers, Annie tried to picture him out working in the field, playing in the sun, taking a girl for a buggy ride—she tried and failed.
Instead, watching the small form in the bed, Annie immediately thought of Kiptyn at Mercy Hospital and the letter she had received Saturday. She thought of how hopeless his situation had been. Yet he was improving—only slightly—but still, improving. She thought of Kiptyn and drew courage.
Stepping forward, she set her bag on the table beside the bed.
“When did he first become ill?”
“Three days ago. He came home from school, didn’t want any dinner. I knew something was wrong, but I was tired— didn’t pay attention right away. It wasn’t until the other children came to bed and noticed he was already here, sleeping and sweating, that they came and alerted me.”
Annie pulled out her notepad, started a case history, and took Daniel’s pulse. His skin was fire-hot to her fingertips. She didn’t need a thermometer to know his temperature was over one hundred and two, but she pulled one out of her bag anyway.
“Hold this in his mouth for me, Martha. Careful he doesn’t bite down on it.”
Martha moved to the far side of the bed. With one hand she held the thermometer steady in Daniel’s mouth, with the other she wiped the sweat from his face.
“It’s my fault. I should have paid closer attention. Should have noticed.”
“Wouldn’t have made any difference. You know that. He would still have whatever it is he has.” Annie slipped her blood pressure cuff over the boy’s arm. “How old is Daniel?”
“Eight. He turned eight last month.”
Daniel didn’t wake as Annie continued assessing his condition. He remained basically unresponsive although he coughed a few times, and twice he tried to turn and curl up on his side.
“Any signs of rashes?”
“No.”
“Any vomiting?”
“The first night. He hasn’t eaten since.”
“Any diarrhea?”
“No.”
Annie took the thermometer and noted the temperature of 104.8 on her tablet.
The entire time, Martha stared at her child, her eyes as frightened as those of the boys in the other room.
“Martha, I want you to look at me. There are many, many things Daniel might have. I’m not a doctor, and I’m not going to pretend to be able to diagnose him. Some of those things are fatal, but those things are also rare.”
Martha clutched Daniel’s hand, but nodded, focused on Annie’s words.
“In all likelihood, he has a case of influenza—the flu.”
“Ya. Many kids catch the flu each year. Three of mine had it last winter.”
“True, but what worries me most about Daniel is his fever and his dehydration. We need to coax some liquid in him and we need to bring his fever down.”
“I’ve tried to get him to drink. It’s no use.”
“I want you to find some ice chips. Even if you have to send Joshua or Simon out to the meat house. Have them fetch a bucket of ice and ask one of the men to start chipping it into tiny pieces. I also want some juice. We’ll feed it to him by the spoonful if we have to.”
Martha nodded, but didn’t move.
“If Daniel were in the hospital, they’d start him on an intravenous drip, a line into his veins that would carry fluid through his body.”
Annie let her hand trail down the boy’s arm. “If we don’t see this fever come down in the next few hours, I’m going to strongly suggest we call a driver and transfer him to the hospital. First, we’ll try to break the temperature here, but I want your word. If this doesn’t work, we’ll go to the Englisch.”
Martha straightened the hand-stitched quilt covering her son, then returned Annie’s gaze. “Danki, for helping us.”
“No need to thank me.”
“And you have my promise.” Her words came out hard, firmer. “We’ll give this till morning, then we’ll take him to the Englisch—if I have to put him in the buggy and drive him myself.”
While Martha was outside setting the men to work chipping ice, Annie inventoried what her mother had slipped into the quilted bag.
She nearly shouted for joy when she came to the chewable children’s Tylenol.
Going to the kitchen she retrieved a spoon and saucer and began to crush two of the pills. Then she added a few drops of juice and created a paste. Lastly she retrieved a dish towel and a basin half filled with water, then carried everything back into Daniel’s room.
Martha returned slightly out of breath, but also refreshed from her short walk outside. Annie wondered if the woman had stepped outside the house at all in the past three days.
“They’re working on the ice, and I told Simon to have the buggy ready—that we might be needing it to go and fetch a driver come first light.”
“Excellent. Now I need you to sit behind Daniel and prop him up. I’ve crushed some children’s Tylenol.”
“He won’t swallow that. I’ve tried and the child won’t open his mouth for anything. I’m surprised we were able to put the thermometer in.”
“Move behind him and prop him up in a sitting position. Wunderbaar.”
“He’s even hotter than earlier—like having a stove pressed against you.” Martha’s face creased with worry.
Annie wanted to stop and allay her fears. Right now, though, she needed to focus on Daniel.
Dipping the towel in the basin, she began running it across Daniel’s face, over his lips, down his neck—then dipping it into the basin again.
She repeated the process two, three, and then four times.
Finally Daniel slipped his tongue out when she passed the cloth over his lips. “Gut, Daniel. You’re doing well.”
Glancing toward the door, she saw Simon standing there, holding a small bucket in his hands. He was a big man, a big version of Joshua. When his eyes met hers, he didn’t look away. She read his fear there, and something else.
She hoped it wasn’t shame, but she worried it might be.
“Danki, Mr. Hooley. You can bring the bucket in and set it here beside the nightstand.”
“How is he? How’s Daniel?” He stepped toward the bed, set the bucket on the handmade rug, and then took two steps back.
“Daniel just showed the first signs that he knows we’re here.”
Simon nodded, began to turn away.
“Mr. Hooley? Could you do one more thing?” His expression changed then, as if she’d offered him a newborn calf.
“Would you bring Daniel a fresh glass of water, and another spoon?”
“Ya. ’Course I will.”
He was back in less than a minute—the mug of water large enough to make three cups of tea. Annie thanked him, dipped the spoon in it, and slipped the little bit of water between Daniel’s lips.
The boy swallowed once, and his tongue darted out again.
Martha looked at Annie and the smile they shared, the victory they shared, was unlike anything she’d experienced on a hospital floor before. It was more intimate, like something passed between friends.
Was Martha her friend?
She was certainly more than the mother of her patient.
“That’s gut, ya?” Simon stood at the door, clasping his hat in his hand.
“Yes, Simon. It’s very gut.” Martha smiled up at her husband, then turned back to her son. “His fever is very high, though. It’s over 104.”
“Is there anything else I can bring? Anything else I can do?”
“You can pray.” Annie paused as she once again dipped the rag into the basin. “We can all pray his fever breaks by morning.”
Simon nodded, then turned and trudged back out of the room, out the front door, out to the barn.
8
Daniel’s fever didn’t break then, though Annie and Martha managed to coax the spoonful of Tylenol down him. They continued to bathe him with the cool rag and place ice chips in his mouth, and once an hour Annie took his blood pressure and temperature—recording the numbers on her pad each time.
At four a.m., as she began to worry they would have to send one of the men in the buggy for a driver, send Daniel to the hospital with the Englischers, he began to sweat heavily.
Martha stirred from her place beside him in the bed, wiped the sweat from her son’s face. “It’s gut, ya?”
“It’s very gut.” Annie squeezed Martha’s hand, then hurried to the kitchen for more fresh water.
She was refilling the basin when she heard Daniel begin to cry.
“Everything is fine, boppli. You’ve been very sick, but now everything is fine.”
It was the first time Annie had seen Daniel’s eyes open. Though they were still sunken and tired, their color was a warm golden brown, much like Joshua’s.
Then the boy said words that caused Martha’s tears to spill over. “Mamm, I’m hungry.”
She pulled him to her and rocked him and laughed and cried at the same time. Finally, she wiped a hand across her eyes and declared, “I’ll go and heat him a little broth.”
Within minutes she was back and insisted on feeding it to Daniel herself. The boy wasn’t able to take more than a dozen spoonfuls, but it was enough to ease Annie’s worries. Once he’d fallen back into a more restful sleep, she pulled Martha into the kitchen and reminded her of all she would need to do.
“It’s important to continue with the Tylenol regularly for the next two days, or the fever might rise again.” Annie pressed the bottle of children’s Tylenol into her hands.
“I can send Simon to the store for some in a few hours. Of course, we have the kind for older children, but I never thought to have the chewables on hand.”
“It’s all right. Take mine. Mamm gave me this, and I’m sure she has more. Remember to mix it with the juice as you saw me do earlier until you’re sure he can chew up the tablets.”
Martha placed the bottle in the pocket of her apron.
“Be sure he’s taking plenty of liquids. We want him up and using the bathroom regularly. Color should come back to his skin, and you should see elasticity return within the next six hours.” Annie showed her how to test for dehydration on her own arm, and the difference when she touched Daniel’s skin.
“So it was the influenza?” Martha asked.
“I believe so, but we may never know for sure. Keep the other children away from him until twenty-four hours after the fever’s gone. Be sure no one drinks or eats after him.”
Martha walked her to the door. They both stopped and looked out the window, where the eastern sky was beginning to lighten with dawn’s first glow.
“Annie, I owe you more than I can say. If you think of any way I can repay you—”
Annie stopped her, wrapped her arms around the woman’s thin shoulders. “I’m very glad I could help. Take care of your kinner, and find a way to grab some rest yourself.”
“I will, and the children will be fine. They’re all a help to me.”
Hugging her one last time, Annie stepped out onto the porch of the small house. Walking to the barn, she couldn’t help thinking again of Kiptyn and of the letter among her things back home.
Kiptyn, too, had made a turn for the better—though for how long, God alone knew. Annie realized suddenly that his parents would give much to be able to keep him in their home, to be able to care for him in his room as Martha was doing.
Had Martha placed her child at risk by not rushing him to the hospital? Or had she done the right thing by keeping Daniel in the one place she knew she could care for him— safely surrounded by his family and community?
Annie was too tired to puzzle it all out.
After delivering the good news to Simon and Joshua, she climbed into the buggy with Adam.
She wanted to talk to Adam, wanted to ask him what he thought she was to do, now that she was home. And whether Samuel was right in his criticism of her. Did she have any business trying to help people like Martha and Simon with their child?
But her eyes were too heavy and she couldn’t fight the fatigue that washed over her like a wave as they made their way through the brightening morning. She pulled the blanket around her, cornered herself into the buggy’
s seat, and fell fast asleep.
Each night that week, Annie was called on by her neighbors—that first time because they couldn’t pay Samuel, twice because he was tending to someone on the county’s far side, and once because the woman lived alone and felt better seeing another woman.
Each time, Annie reminded her neighbors that she’d had minimal training, and each time they looked her in the eye, thanked her for her honesty, and asked her to help them with whatever ailed them.
Plain people might prefer simpler ways, but they weren’t ignorant as far as what constituted an outright emergency. When the young boy on the farm adjacent to theirs cut his arm in a long gash on an old farming tool, his father sent one sibling running for Annie, and another running to the nearest neighbor with a phone.
By the time Annie arrived to bind up the wound, a driver was there with a car to transport him to the hospital—the boy would need a tetanus shot and a long row of stitches.
Annie feared the biggest battle they would face over the next few months would be influenza. In only a week, her mother’s extra medical supplies had dwindled to nothing. When Friday arrived, Annie didn’t turn down a chance to ride into town and replenish them.
Stepping from the general store into the light snow flurries, she clutched her bag of purchases to her, bent her head against the cold north wind, and walked straight into the man she had been avoiding—Samuel.
“If it isn’t Annie Weaver. Gudemariye to you.”
She should have been thankful for the way his form blocked the wind, but looking up into his teasing face she couldn’t work up any gratitude. A small voice inside her head told her to return his greeting and step around him, but she had not yet learned to listen to that voice.
So instead she stopped, cocked her head, and looked up at him, wondering if his attitude had improved at all in the last week. “Samuel, how are you this morning?”
“I’m fine, and I suppose your patient is fine since you’re in town today.”
Annie fought against the blush staining her cheeks. “My dat is now able to spend a few hours each day in the barn with David, you’ll be froh to know. He’s healing quite well.”
A Simple Amish Christmas Page 7
