by Amy Clipston
“Is there anything you want to talk about?” Janie glanced over her shoulder at Mike as he gathered utensils from the table. “I can tell something is bothering you besides your dat’s health.”
Mike stacked the utensils on a serving platter as running bath water hummed above him. He considered telling Janie nothing was wrong, but his cousins knew him too well to let something like this go.
“I think I’ve lost Rachel’s friendship,” he admitted. “Her note in the journal was cold and distant, and she never returned my call over the weekend.” He explained what had happened Friday night and then how he’d missed her on Saturday. “I don’t know how to explain to John that Rachel may not want to go on picnics with us anymore. It’s going to be difficult for him.”
“And also difficult for you.” Janie gave him a sympathetic but knowing smile. “I can tell you care about her. I think you should write her a note and invite her for a picnic. Maybe she had an off day.”
“That’s what I was thinking.” Mike’s shoulders relaxed at her suggestion. He brought the platter to the counter. “I’ll write another note.”
“Gut. Don’t give up hope.” Janie nodded toward the table. “I’ll finish cleaning up. You can write your note.”
“Danki.” Mike sat at one end of the table and opened the journal to a blank page. He hoped he still had a chance with Rachel.
“DO YOU THINK YOU CAN GO ON A PICNIC WITH US ON Saturday?” John’s expression was full of hope as Rachel stood with him on the playground the following afternoon. “Mike wrote you a note and asked you, but I thought I’d ask you too. We can go fishing, and maybe your schweschder can teach us how to skip stones.”
Rachel fingered the skirt of her dress while John talked on about his hopes for a large family picnic on Saturday. She couldn’t stomach the notion of turning him down, but she also couldn’t stand the idea of not being Mike’s only girlfriend.
“My cousin Janie said she’d stay with mei dat while we go on our picnic,” John continued. “Mei dat has a bad infection, but she said she’ll make sure the doctors take gut care of him.”
“Wait,” Rachel said, holding up her hand, stopping his explanation. “What did you say? What’s wrong with your father?”
“He has a bad infection,” John repeated. “I heard Mike say he was up most of last night with him because he was coughing.”
Concern washed over her. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”
“Danki.” His eyes pleaded with her. “So will you come on a picnic with us and see if your schweschder can come too?”
Rachel paused. She didn’t want to hurt John, but she also didn’t want to cause herself more pain. “I’m sorry, John, but this weekend is going to be very busy for me. Maybe I can come another time.”
John blanched and then took a step back. “All right.” He trotted off toward the swing set.
Rachel shook her head and leaned back against the fence.
“What was that about?” Malinda appeared at her side.
“John asked me to go on a picnic with him and Mike on Saturday. I told him no.” Rachel hugged her arms to her middle. “I can’t stand hurting him, but I have to take a step back.” She turned toward Malinda. “You were right.”
“I was right about what?” Malinda searched her face for an answer.
“I never should’ve gotten so involved with Mike and John.”
“Why? Did something happen?”
Rachel breathed in the warm May air while gathering her thoughts. Then she told Marie about taking dinner over to the Lantz farm Friday night and what she saw when she went to see Mike at work on Saturday.
“You told me not to get too close to John and his family, but I didn’t listen,” Rachel said. “I followed my heart instead of my head.”
“I’m sorry.” Malinda placed a hand on Rachel’s arm. “I was hoping I was wrong. You seemed so froh when Mike picked you up last week and took you out for ice cream.”
“Ya, I was, but when I saw him with another maedel on Saturday, I realized I had let myself fall in love with him too quickly.” Rachel shook her head as she gazed across the playground where John was swinging with two other children. “I have a bad habit of thinking with my emotions instead of my head. That’s how I wound up with a broken heart with David. I’ve done it again, but at least I know the truth this time. I just have to pick myself up and move on. I’ll find the right person. It will just take time.”
She saw a gold-and-orange butterfly fluttering nearby, and her breath caught in her throat. If I turn my attention to other things,
happiness will come and sit quietly on my shoulder . . .
Malinda gave her a sad smile. “Ya, just give it time. Don’t rush yourself.”
“I won’t.” A sharp stab of sadness pierced Rachel’s heart as she watched John talk to the boy on the swing beside him. She’d hoped to be a big part of his life, but instead, she would only enjoy being his teacher until he transferred back to the school in his district.
Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling at the back of her mind that God had brought her into John’s life for a purpose beyond only being his teacher. But what could that purpose be if her relationship with Mike had ended so abruptly?
CHAPTER 22
MIKE SAT UP RAMROD STRAIGHT ON THE SOFA AND SCANNED the family room, which was cloaked in darkness. He turned toward his battery-operated digital clock on the end table and read two thirty-seven. The room was deathly silent, but something had jolted him out of a deep sleep. What was it?
He shoved the blankets from his legs and stood, the cool wooden floor creaking under his weight. As he moved toward the doorway leading to his father’s bedroom, Mike shrugged his shoulders and moved his neck side to side in an attempt to release the aches and twinges. Sleeping on the sofa was tough on his back and neck, but Mike couldn’t risk sleeping in his room upstairs and missing Dat’s calls for help. Not when he’d been so ill.
Mike leaned into the bedroom doorway and saw the outline of Dat’s thin body under the sheet. A loud, rattling cough was followed by a sputter and then gasping sound, and Mike ran to his father’s bedside. Crouching down, Mike touched Dat’s face. His skin was hot and clammy. Mike flipped on the lantern and saw that Dat’s lips were tinted blue. His heart nearly exploded with fear. Dat needed help.
“Dat, Dat,” Mike whispered with urgency. “Can you hear me?”
Dat wheezed and gasped again. He was having trouble breathing.
“I’m going to call for some help,” Mike said, his words rushed.
Mike dashed up the stairs and knocked on the guest room door. “Marie, Marie! Dummle! Wake up! I need help!”
A rustling noise followed by footsteps sounded and then the door swung open, revealing Marie clad in a robe, her brown hair mussed.
In an instant, her brown eyes were wide with alarm. “Was iss letz? Is it Onkel Raymond?”
“Ya,” Mike said, adrenaline roaring through his veins. “He’s having trouble breathing. I’m going to call nine-one-one. Would you sit with my dat?”
“Ya, ya. Of course.”
Marie followed Mike down the stairs. As she veered off into his father’s room, Mike grabbed a lantern from the mudroom and ran out the back door to the barn.
When his feet hit the cold ground, he realized he’d forgotten his shoes. He dialed nine-one-one and begged the operator to send an ambulance as soon as possible. When he jogged back into the house, he found Marie applying a compress to Dat’s forehead.
“He’s burning up with fever,” she said softly, her face creased with anguish. “I thought this might help.”
Dat’s skin was gray and his eyes were closed. He shuddered and then convulsed with another deep, rattled cough and wheeze.
Mike paced at the end of the bed. “I should’ve called the doctor last night. I should’ve insisted the doctor admit him to the hospital.” He shoved his hand through his hair. “I thought he was getting better.”
“It’s not your fault,”
Marie insisted. “The rescue squad will be here soon.”
Sirens sounded in the distance, and Mike ran out the front door. He stood on the porch and directed the ambulance to the back of the house, glad that John was such a sound sleeper.
The next thirty minutes were a blur. As the EMTs took vital signs, Mike stood at the back of the room beside Marie. He felt as if he were eighteen again and the EMTs were working on his stepmother instead of his father.
He hugged his arms to his middle as his body shook with fear. How could this be happening again?
As if reading his mind, Marie placed her hand on Mike’s arm.
“Everything will be fine.” She leveled her gaze with his, but apprehension flickered in her eyes. “You get dressed. You’ll need to ride in the ambulance with him, and I’ll stay here with John. I’ll bring John to the hospital tomorrow if you let me know when that’s okay.”
Mike nodded. “All right.” As the EMTs prepared to load Dat onto a gurney, he ran up the stairs, praying Dat would make it through this and not leave him and John orphaned.
“MR. LANTZ?” A MAN CLAD IN GREEN SCRUBS AND A WHITE coat approached Mike as he sat on a cold, vinyl chair in the emergency room waiting area.
Mike had been absently staring at a news program flickering on a large flat-screen television attached to the wall above him. It seemed as if it had been hours since Dat had been deposited in the emergency room. The sky had been pitch black when Mike entered the waiting room, but now the sun was starting to rise, bathing the sky in vivid streaks of orange, pink, and yellow.
“Ya,” Mike said, running his hand down his face. “I’m Michael Lantz.”
The man sat across from Mike and folded his hands in his lap. The rest of the waiting area was quiet except for a middle-aged couple sitting huddled together on the other side of the room. The only sound was the occasional telephone ringing and the whoosh of the electric doors when someone walked in or out. The aroma of cleaning solution assaulted Mike’s nose.
“I’m Dr. Richmond,” the doctor said, the corners of his mouth turned down in a frown. “Your father is very ill. He has pneumonia. You gave us permission to do whatever is necessary, and we’ve had to put him on a ventilator to help him breathe.”
“A ventilator?” Mike’s eyes misted with tears. “This is serious.” The words were more a statement than a question.
“Yes, I’m afraid it is.” Dr. Richmond sighed. “Your father is very weak. The kidney failure has taken a toll on his body.”
For a moment, Mike’s words were trapped in his dry throat. He nodded slowly to avoid breaking down in front of this stranger. Then he took a deep breath and cleared his throat. “Can I see him?” “Yes.” The doctor nodded. “Once we have him comfortable, you can see him. We’ve moved him to the intensive care unit.” He tilted his head. “Do you have any other questions?”
Mike cleared his throat again. “How long do you think he’ll be in the hospital?”
Dr. Richmond shook his head. “I’m not sure. It depends on how he responds to treatment.”
Mike wiped away an errant tear. “Thank you for your help.”
“You’re welcome.” The doctor pointed toward the desk. “I’ll have one of the nurses come to get you and take you to see your father.”
Once the doctor was gone, Mike stared out the window, taking in the beauty of the brightening sky. The promise of a gorgeous spring day seemed to mock his bleak mood. He wondered if Marie had told John about Dat. How had John taken the news? He hoped his family would arrive soon. He longed for companionship.
He longed for Rachel.
But why would he think of her when Dat was lying in a hospital bed with a ventilator helping him to breathe? Rachel’s notes from school remained cold and professional, proving she had rejected his friendship, but he still missed her. He missed the closeness they had shared the day they went on the picnic and the day they went for ice cream.
If only he had a loving girlfriend or wife to hold his hand and tell him everything was going to be all right. If only that person could be Rachel.
He sagged in the uncomfortable chair, closed his eyes, and tried to push those thoughts away as the low hum of the television penetrated the waiting room.
“Michael?”
Mike turned toward the exit doors as his aunt Sylvia and uncle Timothy rushed toward him. Relief overwhelmed him as he stood and his aunt pulled him into a hug.
“We got here as soon as we got Marie’s phone message,” Onkel Tim said, squeezing Mike’s arm.
Mike sniffed as tears threatened his eyes. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
They sat down, facing each other in a circle of chairs.
“How is he?” Aenti Sylvia’s eyes sparkled with tears.
“It’s pneumonia.” Mike shared the doctor’s diagnosis, and his aunt choked back a sob, covering her mouth with her hand.
“We’ll go with you to see him,” Tim said.
“Danki,” Mike said. “How’s John?”
“Marie said John wanted to go on a picnic, but she convinced him to have one in the backyard so they can stay near the phone. She said she’d wait to hear from you before calling a driver to bring them here.” Sylvia touched his arm.
Mike shook his head. “I don’t think John should see mei dat hooked up to a ventilator. It would be too confusing and frightening for him.”
“I agree.” Aenti Sylvia studied Mike’s eyes. “You look exhausted. You should have our driver take you home so you can get some sleep. Tim and I can stay and wait to hear more news.”
Onkel Tim nodded. “That’s a gut idea. You need your rest.”
“No.” Mike shook his head. “I can’t leave him.” He covered his face with his hands. “What am I going to tell John? I have to find a way to be strong for him.”
“We’ll help you, Michael,” Aenti Sylvia said gently. “You’re not in this alone. We’re your family, and we’ll help you through this.”
Mike met his aunt’s warm expression, and he gave her a sad smile. He was thankful he didn’t have to bear this alone.
MIKE STUDIED THE FRONT PAGE OF THE LOCAL NEWSPAPER as machines hummed and clicked beside him. Every few minutes he glanced over at Dat, who lay silently in the hospital bed, his eyes closed and his skin still a grayish color.
The door opened, and his uncle Tim entered.
“Any change?” he asked, sinking into the chair across from Mike.
“No,” Mike said softly. “I keep waiting for him to wake up and let me know he feels better.”
“Have you seen the doctor yet this morning?”
“No.” Mike held up the paper. “I just keep staring at the front page and reading the same article. I’m not retaining anything. I can’t think straight.”
“That’s because you need rest,” Onkel Tim said, placing his ankle on his opposite knee. “You need to go home and get some sleep. You’ve been here more than twenty-four hours. Go home and come back tomorrow.”
“I can’t leave him,” Mike repeated for what felt like the hundredth time. He hadn’t left Dat’s side except to go to the cafeteria to pick up something to eat or to go sit in the ICU waiting room while the nurses took care of his father. He was waiting impatiently for Dat to open his eyes and at least acknowledge him.
“How is John?”
“He’s fine. Janie and Sylvia are with him now. He enjoyed the picnic in the backyard with Marie yesterday, and he went to church with Janie and Sylvia today.” Onkel Tim absently ran his hand over his trouser leg. “He misses you, and he wants to see your dat.”
“I know. I talked to him on the phone last night.” Mike turned toward Dat. “I don’t know if I should let John see Dat. I don’t want to scare him.”
“He needs to know the truth.”
Mike opened his mouth to protest, but the door clicked open again. Dr. Richmond stepped into the room and greeted Mike and Tim before pulling the clipboard out from the slot at the end of the bed.
“How does it
look for my father?” Mike asked, his voice thin and shaky. “I keep waiting for him to wake up and look at me, but he hasn’t responded at all since he was admitted to the hospital yesterday.”
Dr. Richmond leaned against the wall and frowned. His expression sent a shiver of alarm through Mike. Something was wrong. Very wrong.
“We’ve run several tests, and I’m sorry to tell you that your father is in a coma.” The doctor’s expression became grimmer. “I told you yesterday that the kidney failure has taken a toll on his body. Well, the toxins in his blood stream have caused his organs to start to shut down, which caused the coma.” Dr. Richmond paused before going on. “I’m afraid I don’t have good news. He most likely won’t wake up, and you’ll have to make some tough decisions.”
Mike blinked back tears. He turned toward Onkel Tim, who shook his head in dismay.
“That can’t be,” Tim insisted. “My brother has always been determined. He’ll fight this. He’ll wake up.”
“What kind of decisions?” Mike asked, wiping his wet eyes.
“You’ll have to decide if you want to turn off the ventilator.” Dr. Richmond hugged the clipboard to his chest.
Onkel Tim gasped. “Turn off the ventilator? And let him die?”
Mike swallowed a sob. This has to be a bad dream. This can’t be happening. I can’t lose Dat. Not now. He stared down at his lap as dread grabbed hold of his throat and squeezed.
“I’m sorry,” Dr. Richmond said softly, his voice full of empathy. “My prayers are with you and your family.”
“We need to give Raymond more time,” Onkel Tim said. “We can’t give up just yet.”
Mike wiped his eyes again and met his uncle’s gaze. “I need to talk to John. I have to bring him up to see Dat one last time.” He looked at the doctor. “I know children aren’t allowed in the ICU, but would you allow my six-year-old brother to come and see him?”
“Of course,” the doctor said. “We always make exceptions in situations like this.”
