by Ruth Reid
“Sorry, but it’s doctor’s orders. You don’t want to get pneumonia or bedsores. Besides, your muscles will atrophy if you stay in bed too long. So you see, there are too many reasons for you not to get up.”
“I don’t see. I’m blind.”
“Your face is bandaged. Now, for the tough love.” Amy peeled the covers back. “The best way to do this is to hold on to my shoulder as you swing your legs to the side of the bed.”
“I thought you were mei friend,” she grumbled.
A man outside the warehouse entrance stopped Elijah and Alex at the door. “Name, please.”
“Elijah Graber.”
Alex stepped forward. “Elijah was a passenger on Budget Bus, and we’re here to collect his belongings.”
“Stop at the first table, and someone there will issue you a pass.”
“Thank you.” Elijah stepped into the building, which was large enough to hold several buses. He headed toward the first table. “I was told to stop here first,” he told the officer seated in front of a computer.
“May I have your name?”
“Elijah Graber.”
The officer typed on his keyboard, and a few seconds later, a printer spit out a label with his name on it. “The tables are arranged by type of article. Laptops, tablets, phones, and other portable devices are along the far wall. Clothing, shoes, and miscellaneous personal care items are in the middle section. And over by the far wall on the left is the unclaimed baggage. Sensitive materials such as wallets, purses, and handbags will be released on an individual basis by an officer in the back. Please note that all items are sealed and will require you signing for their release. If you’re unable to locate your belongings, please notify one of the officers at the back table. Do you have any questions?”
“I don’t think so.” All Elijah had to find was his duffel bag.
“Very well. Next.”
“Alex Canter, I’m not looking for anything. I’m with Elijah.”
The officer requested the spelling for Alex’s last name, then typed it into the computer and handed him a visitor’s pass.
“Where do you want to start?” Alex asked once they were past the gated area.
Elijah scanned the building. A mob of people, most of them weeping, milled around the tables. “I’d like to find mei duffel bag.” Then get out of here. He pointed to the area where the luggage was located, but Alex’s attention was on the electronics crowd.
“I’ll catch up with you in a few minutes.” Alex veered off in the opposite direction.
Fine by me. He needed a few moments to collect his thoughts and steady his nerves. Besides, Alex wouldn’t know what his duffel bag looked like. Elijah’s mind wandered. With Alex having checked Mercy Regional for Catherine, all the hospitals on his list had been checked off. He wasn’t prepared to give up his search— ever. He also wasn’t prepared to sort through the recovered items of strangers.
Elijah looked through the various pieces of luggage twice but didn’t find his bag. He described the navy canvas duffel to the worker in the area, but even he wasn’t able to locate it. The worker directed him to the lost claims area but didn’t offer much hope since the crash site had been searched carefully.
After thanking the man, Elijah headed toward the back of the building where he’d been directed. He described the bag and filled out the form. Only he didn’t have a phone number to leave for them to contact him.
“I can see if someone can look through the records for a bag that fits the description,” the friendly gray-haired woman at the counter said. “Everything logged in should have a number associated with it, and if someone else claimed it by mistake, we should have the person’s name.”
“Okay, thank you.” Elijah recalled a man with a bandanna on his head going through luggage not long after the accident had happened. Obviously the man hadn’t been pilfering his own stuff.
Elijah scanned the room for Alex and spotted him in the center of a small gathering, most likely drumming up more business, and probably the reason he suggested they come. Elijah ambled between the long row of tables holding baby bottles, toys, stuffed animals, makeup bags, miniature-sized bottles of shampoo, hairbrushes, a single shoe. Where was its mate? He moved down the row, scanning the different clothes scattered about. Nothing was organized according to size, nor was anything neatly folded. His gaze stopped on something he recognized.
Catherine’s prayer kapp.
Bloodstains marred the white material. A lump formed in his throat as he picked up the delicate hand-sewn kapp.
Mei dear, sweet Catherine.
Elijah’s vision blurred. He weaved through the crowd and made his way to the restroom. How was he going to tell George? He’d promised to call with an update. Acid coated the back of his throat. He barely made it inside the men’s room and over to the trash container before he vomited. Once his stomach was emptied of its contents, he stood there a moment, his ribs aching and body shaking. “Lord, help me.”
I’ve checked the hospitals and the morgue, and I even climbed down the ravine. Now what—wait till spring? Wait to see if her body washes up downstream? Her kapp is bloody. I don’t want to believe she’s gone, but I need some mustard seed of faith nett to lose hope.
When Elijah finally looked up, he glimpsed a man’s reflection in the mirror and spun to face him. He recognized him immediately as the person who had sat next to him on the bench.
“You’ve done everything within your power to find Catherine. You’ve relied on man’s help to point you in the right direction,” the red-haired man said. “Child, isn’t it time you put your trust in the Lord? Rest in His strength.”
“I trust God, but I—” Elijah swallowed hard. He lifted the bloody prayer kapp. “This was Catherine’s.”
“Turn around and look at yourself in the mirror.”
Elijah furrowed his brows but turned anyway. “I have dark circles under mei eyes, mei hair is a matted mess—what?”
“Your shirt is bloody from the gash on your head, isn’t it?”
“Jah, and I don’t have a clean shirt to change into either.”
“But you’re alive, right?”
Elijah nodded.
“Head wounds bleed profusely. Catherine’s alive.”
“I wish I believed that.” Elijah cringed, admitting his deepest fear out loud.
“I wish you did too. The Word teaches to be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus. It is up to you to cast all your anxiety on He who cares for you.” The man placed his hand on Elijah’s shoulder. “Jesus wants all who are weary and burdened to come to Him. He will give you rest.”
“Jah,” he said matter-of-factly. He’d grown up studying the Scriptures, even quoted the same “be anxious about nothing” verse when Edwina had fretted about her family’s financial well-being. But hearing it now, in this situation, he wasn’t sure how to lay his burdens at the feet of Jesus. Maybe once he found Catherine . . .
“Do you not trust the one who called you by your name? The one who sends the angel of the Lord to encamp around those who fear him, and deliver—”
The bathroom door swung open, and Alex entered. “You all right, Elijah?”
“I’m fine.” Elijah glanced apologetically at the red-haired man. “I’m sorry. You were saying?”
Before the man could speak, Elijah glimpsed Alex in his peripheral vision. The lawyer’s brows flicked, and concern webbed his forehead as he looked around the room. “You sure you’re okay? What’s that in your hand?”
“Catherine’s prayer kapp.” His voice choked again. “I need a few minutes—please.”
“Yeah, sure. Hey, did you find your bag?”
“Nay.” He ground out the word between clenched teeth.
“I’ll wait for you out here.” Alex moved to the door. “Don’t worry abou
t your bag. When we leave, we’re definitely getting you a change of clothes.”
“Your friend sounds concerned,” the older man said once Alex left.
“I don’t know him well enough to call him a friend. He’s a lawyer, and yes, he’s helped look for Catherine, but I thought he was rude not to at least acknowledge you were in the room.”
“Not everyone can see what you see. Some people are too self-absorbed to look beyond their own gain.”
“You’re probably right.” He turned on the faucet, cupped cold water in his hands, then took a drink. “It seems I’ve gotten myself into a pickle.”
“How so?”
“I lost sight of mei beliefs. I thought I needed Alex’s help in order to find Catherine, when all along I should have trusted God. Nau I’m mixed up in worldly matters.”
“Come with me.” He opened the door. “You need a place where you can find rest for your soul.”
There was something so soothing in the man’s tone, Elijah followed without question. He held his breath as they headed toward the exit. Alex was too busy handing out business cards to even notice him leave the building.
The fresh air felt good against his face. He looked for a place to sit down and rest, but the red-haired man led him to a cab parked next to the curb. “Give this note to the driver.”
Elijah hesitated to take the folded piece of paper, and when he did, he still didn’t move. Shouldn’t he have some sort of gut reaction—warning alarms going off inside his head?
“Elijah, where are you going?” Alex flagged him with a wave. “You still want help finding Catherine, don’t you?”
Elijah nodded. He didn’t want anyone to stop searching for her.
“Okay, I’ll take that as a verbal agreement for representation. You won’t be sorry.”
Now alarms were sounding. Elijah climbed into the back seat and scooted over for the red-haired man, but the man shook his head.
“God permitting, I’ll see you again soon.”
Chapter 26
Elijah watched closely as the mileage added up and the fare ballooned on the cab meter. At the same time, he kept a mental tally of how much money he would have left once they reached the destination—if it didn’t run out before he arrived. Perhaps he should tell the driver to stop.
“Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.” Elijah repeated the same scripture over several miles. But it seemed every time he attempted to cast his worries, he ended up mentally reeling them in. Clear your mind. Dwell on what God has in store for those who call on Him. Worry is the opposite of faith. And faith is what moves the hand of God.
Lord, forgive me. I’ve been making so many mistakes. First trusting the lawyer and now trusting a stranger in the restroom. Have I run from one problem to the next? I haven’t made many rational decisions lately. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be in the back seat of a cab going to an unknown location. What if—?
Elijah drew a deep breath. Even while praying he was fretting. Forgive me, Father.
The driver turned up the volume on the radio as the newscaster reported heavy snowfall over the next several hours. Travel advisory warnings were issued for the central and southern regions of the state. “Sounds like the roads are going to be a doozy,” said the driver, who had earlier introduced himself as Frank. “You’ll want to stay put until this snow front moves through.”
“How far are we from the ravine on River Ridge Road?”
“Where those buses crashed last week?”
“Jah, that place.”
“With the amount of road construction in some spots, it’ll be at least an hour.”
What had he done? “Will you stop? Please.” Panic laced his words. He couldn’t go that far away from the accident scene. He needed to be close.
The driver pulled over to the shoulder and stopped the car. He looked at Elijah through the rearview mirror. “Something wrong?”
“I made a mistake. I’d like to go to the ravine. I want to join the search team.”
“Search and rescue were called off earlier due to high winds. My cousin and his dog are part of the canine group, and he thinks it’ll be called off indefinitely. That’s if this storm drops the amount of inches everyone’s predicting.”
Elijah leaned back against the seat and slouched down out of sight of the rearview mirror.
“I can’t drop you off at the ravine in good conscience. It’s already starting to snow, so we need to make a decision quick.” He lifted the slip of paper with the address Elijah had given him earlier. “Do you want me to continue?”
Elijah glanced out the window. It wasn’t snowing hard, but if Ohio was anything like Michigan, that could change in a matter of minutes. “Jah, I suppose.”
A few minutes later, the driver stopped the cab in front of a small stone and cedar shake cabin tucked under towering maples. Fresh snow covered the roof, and long icicles dangled from the eaves. With the driveway drifted closed, the home looked as though it hadn’t been occupied in months.
“Hope you don’t mind getting out here. I don’t want to chance getting stuck in that driveway,” Frank said.
“Nay, I don’t mind.” He leaned forward to check the final meter reading but discovered the machine had been cleared. “How much do I owe you?”
“The fare was just paid in full, including the tip, so you’re all set.”
“Just paid? How could that be?”
“Payment was made online.” Frank lifted his phone and pointed to the screen, but Elijah wasn’t close enough to read the details.
He thanked the driver and climbed out, then trudged through the snow to the cabin. The redheaded man hadn’t said anything about a key. Houses in his district were seldom locked, but most Englischers were not as trusting. Some of them were even known to padlock their barns, sheds, and pasture gates.
At least here the cabin’s windows were not boarded up. Elijah climbed the steps to the front porch. He turned the doorknob, and it opened.
The rough plank walls, oak floors, and stone fireplace gave the place an inviting atmosphere. The wood box held enough wood to heat the place for several days. He crossed the room and checked out the kitchen area. Curtain-fronted cabinets L-shaped the walls. A small countertop hand pump was next to the sink. Elijah spotted an oil lamp and Bible on the kitchen table and smiled. The red-haired man had said he would find rest for his soul, and Elijah was already feeling more at peace. A note next to the Bible caught his eye.
Welcome home!
You’ll find canned goods in the cellar and more wood in the shed next to the barn.
May you feel the love of Christ Jesus and the presence of the Holy Spirit, and find rest for your weary soul. Stay as long as you like.
Julie . . . Julie who? From where? She had pondered her name multiple times since learning of it last week. Not that it did any good. She was a stranger to herself.
A knock sounded at the door, followed by two sets of footsteps entering the room. She’d become familiar with the lighter, soft-heeled steps that belonged to Amy. The heavier, hard-soled steps belonged to one of her doctors. Her neurosurgeon, Dr. Gleeson, wore musk-scented cologne, and Dr. Edwards, her primary care physician, walked with a slight drag of one foot, although she wasn’t sure if it was his right or left.
Between those doctors and the plastic surgeon who rebuilt her eye socket, she was checked on multiple times a day. More so over the last four days. Her facial swelling from the accident had gone down enough to do the second surgery to reconstruct her face.
The musky scent grew stronger. Dr. Gleeson talked slowly. “Good morning, Julie. How are you feeling today?”
“Okay,” she said hoarsely. Her throat dried. On the opposite side of the bed from the doctor, her hand was grasped. She recognized Amy’s soft hand clasping hers before the nurse spoke.
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“Julie,” she said in a cheerful tone, “Dr. Gleeson is here to remove your bandages. Isn’t that great?”
“Yes” was all she managed to say. Prior to the last surgery, her bandages had been looser fitting. The swelling had gone down, and she could talk without much difficulty. But following the second surgery, everything was different. The bandages were tighter, movement was severely restricted, and her throat was constantly parched. Communication was limited to one-word sentences and hand signals, which Amy called charades. Even asking for ice chips had become frustrating. She ended up spending countless hours in silence.
“I’m going to remove your bandages,” Dr. Gleeson said. “You may feel a slight tug as I work the scissors under the different layers of gauze. Try not to move.”
She lay as still as possible, holding her breath as he guided the scissors upward from her neck. Snipping around her ears tickled, and she fought back a giggle.
Once he reached the top of her skull, he stopped cutting. “Now for the other side.” He changed places with Amy and repeated the process.
Room air brushed against her chin and cheekbones, sending a shiver from the back of her neck down her spine.
He stopped cutting. “Try to hold still, please. I’m almost done.”
“Sorry,” she said, then willed herself to stay calm by stiffening. Would she recognize herself after the bandages were off when she looked in the mirror? It would be nice to finally put a face to the workers’ voices. She pictured Amy short and petite.
A few moments later, the doctor announced that he was finished.
“That’s it? I can’t see.” Her voice strained. She went to touch her face, but the doctor’s large hand stopped her.
“I decided not to remove the bandages around your eyes. You still have some swelling, and I think we’ll wait another day or two.”
She relaxed some, but trying to hide her disappointment in a smile, she winced.
“Julie, is it painful to smile?”
“A little.”
