Seasons in Paradise

by Cameron, Barbara;

  “I have a month left. The midwife said so.”

  David had made Mary Elizabeth promise she’d watch his fraa like a hawk but that was something else she wasn’t about to tell Lavina. He was worried that she seemed so tired lately.

  “It would be nice to have a Christmas boppli,” Rose Anna chimed in, leaning forward to look at Lavina. “Born on Christmas Day, I mean. Is the midwife still schur you’re not having zwillingbopplin?”

  “Rose Anna! Are you saying I look big enough to be having zwillingbopplin?”

  “Nee! Of course not!” she stammered quickly. “It’s just sometimes they don’t know until you get farther along and—and— you know what I mean.”

  “Nee, I don’t. Do you, Mary Elizabeth?” Lavina asked, her voice frosty.

  “I think Rose Anna’s just hoping, aren’t you?” she asked, looking back at her. “We’d all love to have a set of twins in the family.”

  “Then one of you have them,” Lavina said dryly.

  She laughed and then glanced over and smiled at Lavina. “I think it’s just starting to sink in that you’re going to have a boppli. My big schweschder is going to be a mudder.”

  “All three of us could have been mudders by now if the Stoltzfus men hadn’t left home,” Rose Anna said bitterly.

  Mary Elizabeth and Lavina exchanged looks in the front seat.

  “Rose Anna, they just couldn’t live at their home anymore,” Lavina told her. “You know that. It doesn’t do any gut to think what might have been. We have to think about what lies ahead.”

  “Easy for you to say,” she muttered. “You have a mann now and a boppli on the way. And Mary Elizabeth’s getting married.”

  “You’ve been seeing Peter, haven’t you?”

  “Ya, he’s nice,” she allowed. “And John was . . . exciting.” She sighed.

  Mary Elizabeth parked the buggy at the front of the shelter and Rose Anna helped Lavina out. The stairs up to the porch weren’t a problem, but by the time Lavina climbed the ones to the second-floor classroom, she was clearly winded. She didn’t argue with them about sitting down. Mary Elizabeth sent Rose Anna for a glass of water. Several women hurried over to say they’d missed her and asked when the baby was due.

  Kate walked up, all smiles. “So good to see you again.”

  “I missed you and the class.”

  “The first baby’s always so special,” Edna told Lavina. “Oh, you love them all equally, but there’s just something about that first one.”

  “It’s true,” Pauline, another resident, said. “And then, when I had my last, there was something about knowing I wouldn’t have any more. My hubby and I had decided three was all we could afford. But sometimes I wish we’d had another one.”

  “What about you, Kate? Do you ever think about having another baby?” Pauline asked her.

  “No. I did briefly when mine were smaller. But now they’re almost out of elementary school and with Malcolm and I having jobs and volunteering . . . well, I think we’re happy with the family we have.”

  The women drifted back to their sewing and after Lavina appeared to get a second wind, she rose and wandered the room admiring what they were doing and offering help when needed.

  Kate motioned for Mary Elizabeth to join her at the back of the room. “When is she due?” she asked quietly.

  “She has another month to go.”

  “I don’t think she’s going to make it. Do you?”

  “David said she’s been looking tired and asked me to make sure she doesn’t overdo while we’re out today.” She watched her schweschder for a moment. “But you know, she’s perking up some. Maybe it was good for her to get out today. She always loved helping with the class. You know that. If she keeps on like this, I’m thinking we might have lunch on the way home. Would you like to join us?”

  “Thanks, but after I leave here I have to attend my son’s soccer practice.”

  “Maybe next time.”

  “That would be nice.”

  Halfway to the restaurant, Lavina doubled over.

  Alarmed, Mary Elizabeth touched her arm. “Are you allrecht?”

  “Contraction,” Lavina gasped.

  “Are you having the boppli?” Rose Anna wanted to know. She leaned forward to look at Lavina.

  “It’s not due until next month.”

  Mary Elizabeth pulled the buggy over. “A boppli decides when it wants to come. Not the midwife, not the mudder. What do you want to do?”

  Lavina straightened. “It’s over.”

  But they were no sooner back on the road than another contraction hit. Mary Elizabeth checked for traffic and pulled off the road again. “I think we should stop by the clinic. What do you think?”

  “It’s probably just Braxton-Hicks. I just want to go home.”

  “But if it’s not . . .”

  Lavina sighed. “Allrecht. We can stop there. And if it’s just Braxton-Hicks, you promise you’ll take me home?”

  “I promise.”

  “Lavina?”

  She glanced over her shoulder at Rose Anna. “Ya?”

  “Promise me you won’t have the boppli now and Mary Elizabeth and I have to deliver it.”

  Now it was Mary Elizabeth’s turn to gasp. “Promise me that, too!”

  It was the first time Mary Elizabeth could remember envying the driver of a car. How she wished she could just press the accelerator and speed them to the clinic.

  * * *

  Sam stared at the cell phone Peter had loaned him since Sarah had promised to call him today with her answer and it hadn’t been good news.

  She’d said no. She couldn’t sell him the farm and hold the mortgage. She was sorry, but she and her daughter had decided it wasn’t a good idea.

  His heart sank as she’d talked, as she wished him well, and he’d thanked her and ended the call. He shoved the phone into the pocket of his shirt and sank down on the bottom step of the porch of the Smith house. What was he going to do now? He’d wanted to start a life with Mary Elizabeth in a place that was their own.

  He knew the two of them were welcome to stay at her house just as many young Amish couples did with the bride or groom’s parents. But he wanted so much for them to have their own place.

  It wasn’t the end of the world. He knew that. Knew that God would provide. Knew that His timing wasn’t always—often wasn’t—what he or others wanted. But hadn’t the past year or more been hard enough for them? There was an Englisch expression John had used last time he’d lost a job: couldn’t he catch a break?

  Chiding himself for thinking such, he shook his head and tried to snap out of it. He had the love of Mary Elizabeth, had his health, and not one, but two jobs. He’d figure out something. No, he’d try to let go and let God lead him where he was supposed to go. Too often he’d decided what God’s plan was for him instead of allowing Him to show him the way.

  He didn’t know how long he sat like that. Thunder rolled overhead, stirring him from his depression. He got up, went inside, and climbed the stairs to the master bedroom where he’d been repairing some water damage to the ceiling. There’d been a leak in the roof and quite a bit of damage had occurred to the ceiling while the house had sat empty. A roofer had been out to make repairs the week before but now, as Sam crossed the room to close the windows he felt a drop of water, then another, fall on his arm.

  He looked up. Sure enough, the roof was leaking again. The repair hadn’t been enough. That was the trouble with just repairing a leak. You never knew where it started . . . sometimes you just had to rip the roof off and do a new one.

  He wasn’t the only one who was going to get bad news that day. The Smiths would have to be called. Hopefully, the roof could be repaired without too much additional expense and before the ceiling showed more damage.

  With a heavy sigh, Sam picked up his tool box and walked to the second floor landing. His thoughts dark and heavy, he didn’t notice the small puddle of water at the top of the stairs.

  H
e slipped, and his feet shot out. His toolbox flew out of his hand, crashing down the stairs. He reached for the banister but couldn’t grab hold and tumbled down the stairs. He felt a jabbing pain in his thigh. Then his head smacked a stair at the curve and everything went black.

  When he woke, he didn’t know what he was doing at the foot of the stairs. His head throbbed like a truck had hit him, and his leg was wet. Then he remembered he’d slipped in a puddle from the roof leaking and he’d fallen down the stairs. He tried to sit up but the world tilted so he waited for it to settle. His leg hurt. Had he broken it? He looked at it, blinked as something trickled into his eye. When he swiped his hand across his face it came away wet—and red. He stared at the leg that hurt and saw two of them. Well, of course he saw two. He had two legs, didn’t he? He blinked hard and the double vision cleared.

  His leg was feeling wet because a splinter of wood was stuck in it—a big splinter—and a thin stream of blood was spurting from it like a mini-fountain. Sam knew what that meant. He wasn’t taught science in Amish schul, but he knew enough about the human body to recognize he’d bleed to death if he didn’t get help quick.

  He crawled toward the cell phone, inch by painful inch. It slipped from his blood-slick hand like a slimy fish, sliding a few more inches from his grasp. He wiped his hand on his shirt sleeve and managed to grasp it. It took several tries to punch in 911.

  “I need an ambulance,” he said. His address? It took precious seconds to remember the address of the Smith house. “I fell down the stairs,” he said and his voice sounded loud to his ears, but the dispatcher urged him to speak up. “I’m bleeding. Bad.” Then he passed out again.

  He woke to the sound of a siren fading, to boots clattering on the wooden porch and into the house. Voices rang in his ears. He looked up into the faces of paramedics.

  “We’re here to help, buddy,” one said as he leaned over him.

  “Don’t pull out the wood,” someone said sharply. “He’ll bleed out if you do. Strap his leg to a board, and let’s get him to the hospital.”

  He grabbed the sleeve of the man leaning over him as they put him on a gurney. “Lock—lock up the house. It’s not mine.”

  “Don’t worry, we’ll take care of it. You just stay calm.”

  Stupid, stupid, stupid not to have noticed the puddle. That was what he got for letting his attention slip for just a moment. He prayed as the men strapped a board under his injured leg, then his head and wrapped restraining bandages around both. What if he’d messed up his leg and he couldn’t work for a long time. He wouldn’t be able to make his rent or his truck payment. And he wouldn’t be able to marry Mary Elizabeth. That would mean they couldn’t get married for another year . . .

  The ride in the ambulance was a blur of noise and pain, a terrible cold, and slipping in and out of consciousness. Two paramedics worked on him, strapping on a blood pressure cuff, inserting a needle in his arm, managing to keep their balance in the swaying vehicle as they snapped out terse questions. Sam? Sam? Do you have any allergies? Are you on any medications? Who should we call for you?

  Then they were talking to each other, their voices urgent. He heard them in a kind of bemused, detached way. His BP’s falling. Hospital wants our ETA. They’re standing by.

  They pulled into the hospital parking lot—the same one he’d come to so recently. Why had he come here? he wondered, searching his memory. His dat. He’d been here with his dat. No, he’d been here with Mary Elizabeth and her family when her grossdaadi was brought here.

  They opened the doors of the ambulance and pulled out the gurney. Despite their care, there was still a bump as the transfer was made from vehicle to the pavement. It sent a shaft of pain from the leg, and he felt it seeping blood. He stayed awake as nurses and doctors swarmed over him, and then he felt himself slipping away.

  “Just put something in your IV to knock you out,” a nurse with kind eyes told him, leaning close to get his attention. “Sending you upstairs to take that little splinter out of your leg and stitch you up.”

  “Danki,” he said, and he blinked at using his old language as he hadn’t for a long time.

  “Wilkumm,” she told him with a smile. “Ya, I know some Pennsylvania Dietsch.”

  When he woke next, he found himself in a hospital bed, one leg wrapped in a bulky cast and raised in some sort of pulley thing, and he had the worst headache of his life.

  “So you’re awake.”

  He turned his head, wincing, and saw two of his bruder John sitting in a chair beside the bed. He blinked, squinted, blinked again. No, there definitely were two Johns.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “There are two of you.”

  “That can’t be gut. I’ll get the nurse.”

  “No, wait a minute. Tell me how I am. The truth.”

  “Peter called me. One of the paramedics found his cell phone in your hand and tracked him down. Said you fell down the stairs and probably had a concussion and maybe a broken leg. You lost a lot of blood when a piece of the stair got stuck in your leg. I’m gonna have to clean that up before the Smiths see it.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Hey, I was just teasing. I’m glad you didn’t break that hard head of yours.” He opened his mouth and then shut it.

  “What?”

  “I called Mamm and Daed. I had to, Sam.”

  He shifted, trying to get comfortable. “I know.” He sighed. “Thanks.”

  “They should be here soon. Anything I can get you?”

  “Something to get rid of the double vision. I’m not sure I can handle seeing two of Daed.”

  John laughed. “Oh man, that’s scary!”

  A nurse walked in and smiled at Sam. “So you’re awake. How’s the head?”

  “Pounding.”

  “He says he’s seeing double.” John told her.

  “It’s tough to see two of him,” Sam complained.

  She pressed her lips together as if she was trying to hide a laugh. “I’m going to check your vital signs and then I’ll call the doctor, tell him you’re awake and having double vision. And feeling good enough to joke about it.”

  “Maybe I’ll get to go home today?” he asked hopefully.

  “Not likely,” she told him and stuck a thermometer in his mouth.

  “Mary Elizabeth,” he said the minute she left. “Did you call her?”

  “I left a message on the answering machine.”

  “I need you to call Peter. I need to talk to him right away.”

  “He was here until I got here and said he’s coming back. But I’ll find a phone and call him if you want.”

  “Please.”

  “Be right back.”

  The doctor came in some time later, introduced himself, and examined him. He waved his hand in front of Sam. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

  “Four.”

  He frowned. “Some people get double vision from a concussion, some don’t. It can take a few days, up to a week or more for the double vision to wear off. How bad’s the pain on a scale of one to ten?”

  “Maybe an eight.”

  “You’re due for some pain meds. You’re a pretty lucky guy. Lost a lot of blood before you got here. They gave you two units in the operating room. The surgeon said he took out a doozy of a piece of wood and stitched you up, put a cast on your leg. It’s broken in two places.”

  “When can I go home?”

  “You’re here for a couple days. I’ll look in on you later.”

  “Man, that’s rough,” John said when he returned and heard the news. “You sure I can’t get you anything?”

  “Mary Elizabeth.”

  “I’m sure she’ll be here as soon as she gets the message. Say, look who’s here.”

  Sam looked expectantly at the door. His mudder rushed in, his dat just steps behind her.

  Great, he thought. Seeing two of his dat had to be the worst nightmare ever.

  * * *

  Mary Eli
zabeth pulled into the driveway of Lavina’s house and breathed a sigh of relief. David came rushing out looking worried.

  “She’s all yours,” she said as he opened the passenger side door and helped his fraa out.

  “False alarm,” she told him. “These Braxton-Hicks are getting old. What happens if I go into labor and we think it’s just another false alarm?”

  “You’ll go in to see the midwife if you get hiccups,” he said fervently. “Danki, Mary Elizabeth.”

  “Ya, danki,” Lavina told her. “I’m sorry I was so much trouble.”

  “You weren’t any trouble. Call me if you need anything. Both of you.”

  David put his arm around Lavina and led her into their house.

  Mary Elizabeth headed home wondering if she’d find Sam waiting for her. It was an hour past suppertime.

  But Sam wasn’t there. Her father came out of the back of the house and stopped her as she unhitched the buggy. “Your mudder has a message about Sam.”

  “You mean from Sam?”

  “Nee, kind. Go on in and talk to your mudder.”

  Her heart sank as she climbed the stairs to the back door.

  “Mary Elizabeth!”

  She turned to see her dat hurrying toward her with her purse in her hands. “You left this in the buggy.”

  “Danki.” She rushed into the house and found her mudder cleaning up the kitchen. “Mamm? Daed said you have a message about Sam? What’s happened?”

  Linda hurried over and took her hands. “John called. Sam had an accident. He’s in the hospital.”

  “Is he going to be allrecht?”

  “John said he has a concussion and a broken leg. Sam’s asking to see you.”

  “I need to go.”

  “I’ll call a driver. You might be there a while, and I don’t want to worry about you driving home after dark in the buggy.”

  Mary Elizabeth wanted to argue, but her mudder was firm. “I’ll go make the call. I made you some sandwiches and put them in the refrigerator.”

  “I couldn’t eat.”

  “You’ll take them for later. John’s there with Sam, and maybe he hasn’t eaten.”

  She nodded and sighed. Mamm was always practical. She found a soft fabric tote bag, tucked the sandwiches and some bottled water in it, and set it by her purse on the counter.