A Rose Revealed (The Amish Farm Trilogy 3)

by Gayle Roper

  “Are you all right, Beck?” I asked when I was certain there were no more volunteer firemen lurking for me to accidentally run over.

  She didn’t answer, and I didn’t blame her. Dumb question.

  “It’s so hard to think he’s gone,” she said as we passed the light in Smoketown. She held Trevor cradled in her arms like he was nursing, and I thought that soon she’d also have physical pain to endure when her milk came in.

  “Talk to me about him, Becky. Tell me some good Trevor stories.”

  She was quiet so long, I wasn’t certain she heard me. Then: “When I first realized I was pregnant, I couldn’t believe it. I was so upset! But as time went on, I grew to love the child inside. He was my baby. Mine and Samuel’s. It didn’t matter when or how he was conceived. He was mine, ours. I talked to him and prayed for him. I gave him to Herr Gott.”

  Her voice thickened, and it was a few minutes before she could continue. “Then he was born so sick, and he had that terrible operation. I pleaded with Herr Gott to let him live. He lived, but I knew he would die. I decided I would love him with everything that was in me every day that Herr Gott let me have him.”

  “Most people would be furious at God for letting their baby be so sick,” I said.

  “Oh no,” she said, cuddling Trevor close. “I was too busy being thankful that Herr Gott gave me Trevor. If it weren’t for Trevor, I never would have gone to Mrs. Trowbridge like I did. I never would have learned about grace. I never would have believed in Jesus. Trevor was a gift, a wonderful gift.”

  I was moved by her sincerity and couldn’t help but wonder if I’d feel the same way if he were my baby.

  “A lot of people have told me that Trevor’s illness is Herr Gott’s punishment for what Samuel and I did. But I know iss not so.”

  “How do you know this?” I glanced at this child-woman of uncommon grace.

  “Because fine people have sick babies too, don’t they? And terrible people, people much worse than Samuel and me, have fine babies, all beautiful and healthy.”

  “So you think anyone can have a sick baby?”

  “I do. Or a healthy one. And if I ever start to get mad at Herr Gott for letting Trevor die, I will remember that God let his Son die, too.”

  We drove through the silent clusters of houses, past Anderson Pretzels, and into Lancaster City. We went past the old prison that looks like a castle with crenellated towers and along the narrow city streets until we reached the hospital. I drove up to the Emergency entrance.

  “You get out here, Becky. I’ll go park and be right back.”

  She nodded and got out. When I came back to the entrance, she was huddled under the portico, Trevor held against her heart. We went inside and were shown into a cubicle immediately by Nancy, an ER nurse I frequently ran into on late nights as we passed our victims off to the hospital staff.

  “Rose?” she said. “It is Rose?”

  I looked at her strangely. Of course it was me. Then I drew the curtains around the cubicle and stood beside Becky as she sat on the lone chair holding her baby. She talked to him, crooned to him, sang to him. She kissed his forehead, his nose, his hands, all the time letting her tears wet his blankets.

  Dr. Braeborn, a small man who took illness as a personal affront and who fought for the lives of his small patients with unfailing energy, arrived minutes after we did. He walked up to Becky and laid his hand on her head.

  “I’m so sorry, my dear.” He stopped and cleared his throat. “I failed.”

  Becky looked at him and shook her head. “No,” she said softly. “I gave him to Herr Gott, Dr. Braeborn. It was His choice. Not yours.”

  The doctor blinked at her words, then took Trevor and laid him on the gurney. He started to unwrap Trevor’s blanket when he stopped. “Would you undress him for me, Becky?”

  I watched the grateful look that spread over her face. She rose and slowly, for the last time, removed her son’s clothes. The doctor examined him as Becky and I stood watching, wrapped in each other’s arms. He, as I, found no overt cause of death.

  “I know this is a hard question for you, Becky, but may I perform an autopsy on Trevor?”

  Becky opened her mouth to answer when a frantic voice yelled, “Becky! Becky! Where are you?”

  I came out of the curtained cubicle where Trevor lay just as a nurse came up to Sam and tried to shush him.

  I hurried forward. “It’s okay, Nancy. I’ll take him.” I looked into Sam’s wild eyes.

  “Rose?” Nancy said again. “Rose?” But I ignored her.

  “They’re over here, Sam.” I led him to his family.

  He fell to his knees beside the gurney and sobbed as he looked at the little body. Becky came up behind him and wound her arms around his neck. She laid her cheek on the top of his head and her tears wet his hair.

  “Thank God I held him,” Sam said over and over. “Thank God I held him.”

  I looked at Dr. Braeborn, who nodded. I wrapped Trevor in his blanket and held him out to Sam. Tears streamed down his face as he looked at his baby

  “Take him, Sam,” I said. “Say good-bye to your boy.”

  Dr. Braeborn and I backed out of the cubicle and left the three of them together. Both he and I were sniffing and blotting tears with our sleeves.

  A familiar voice said, “Rosie?” and I came undone.

  Jake opened his arms, and I fell into them. For the second time in less than a week, I sat on his lap, my face pressed to his chest, and sobbed.

  Chapter 11

  When I finally calmed down, I sat up and climbed off Jake’s lap. I felt Jake’s hand remain on my waist and was grateful for his support. Poor man. He’d catch his death of cold if he went outside in his tear-saturated shirt.

  Sniffling, I began searching through my pockets for a tissue and could find none. I began to feel desperate. “You don’t have a handkerchief, do you?”

  “I didn’t exactly have lots of time to dress,” he said, running his hand through his sleep-tousled hair.

  I glanced at his jeans and T-shirt, then at my clothes and knew what he meant. I didn’t even want to think about my hair.

  Nancy came up just then and shoved a box under my nose.

  “Thanks,” I muttered through a clogged nose as I pulled a tissue free.

  “No problem.”

  I smiled at her, then buried my face and blew. Relief! When I finished, I looked up to find her standing in exactly the same spot, staring at me. I grabbed another tissue, certain my nose was dirty.

  “Oh, Rose!” Nancy’s eyes suddenly teared. “Oh, Rose!” She threw her arms around my neck. “I thought—I thought—” And she began to cry in earnest.

  I automatically hugged her back. Then it hit me. I looked at Jake in consternation as I patted Nancy on the back. “I forgot I’m supposed to be dead.”

  “But you’re not!” Nancy said, pulling back. “How did the news get it so wrong?”

  I smiled wanly. I didn’t know what to say.

  “There was nothing you could have done differently tonight, Tiger,” Jake said. “Becky needed you.”

  I nodded. He was right. Still, the fact remained that I’d blown my story.

  “Look, Nancy,” I said. Maybe I could convince her to forget she’d seen me, talked to me. Maybe when the larger emergency care family commiserated about my death, she’d be able to bite her tongue.

  I sighed. That was a lot of maybes and called for an inhuman amount of discipline. If the situation were reversed, I’m not certain I’d have the strength to keep quiet. Things would just slip out.

  And then there was Dr. Braeborn. And the nurse staring at me from across the room, looking like she was seeing a ghost. And the receptionist who waved three fingers at me from her desk.

  Just then the door flew open, and an ambulance crew surged in with an accident victim strapped to a gurney. Everyone in the emergency room was galvanized into action, even Nancy, who wiped at her eyes, thrust the tissue box at me, and grabbed the v
ictim’s flailing wrist.

  “Auto accident with fire, victim trapped against steering wheel,” the EMT shouted. “BP 90 over—” And he froze mid step, staring at me.

  “Hi, Harry,” I said softly.

  “Rose.” He breathed my name as the gurney bumped into him hard.

  “Harry!” yelled Alice Moyer, his partner for the run. “Move it!”

  He blinked and turned back to his work. “BP 90 over 50 and falling,” he shouted as they wheeled the victim into a cubicle across the room from Becky and Sam.

  “Fat’s in the fire,” Jake said.

  I nodded. “Wait until Lem hears.”

  Harry peered out of the cubicle for just an instant, like he was checking to see if he’d seen what he thought. I sent him a small wave. He shook his head like a dog that’s been out in the rain and moved back behind the curtain.

  Poor Harry.

  Jake touched my arm, and I turned to him.

  “Why don’t you give me your car keys? I’ll give them to Sam so he and Becky can leave whenever they want,” he said.

  I nodded and fished them from my pocket. “The doctor should be finished with them soon.”

  He took the keys and started to roll across the floor but then paused and turned. “I’ll wait and take you home when you can finally get free from Harry and the others.”

  I smiled. “I know.”

  He wheeled off to do his errand just as Harry and Alice stepped out of the cubicle where the accident victim lay. Harry stared at me as he walked across the room.

  I rushed to him and wrapped my arms around his neck. “I’m sorry, Harry. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to do it. They made me.”

  He hugged me back, his arms like bands of iron. “My heart’s going a million miles an hour, kid. My BP is probably through the roof.”

  He pulled back and stared at me, then laughed. “Oh, God, thank You, thank You,” he shouted to the ceiling. And he hugged me again. Alice patted me on the back.

  “You have no idea the hell you’ve put me through, girl,” he said. “I’ve been so upset, so angry.” Suddenly that anger licked across his face. Harry, my gentle Mennonite, looked ready to explode.

  “I’m sorry, Harry. I’m sorry.”

  “A lot of good that does,” he groused in a tone of voice that was, for him, positively incendiary. “I lost twenty years off my life, and I can’t afford that at my age. And I’m still two nights short on sleep.”

  “The police asked her to do it, Harry.” Jake had come up beside me and rested his hand on my waist again. “She had no choice.”

  “Who’s he?” Harry asked me, looking at Jake.

  “I’m Jake Zook.” He offered his hand. “I’m a friend of Rose’s. She’s been staying at our family farm.”

  Harry looked at him suspiciously, like this whole misunderstanding was somehow Jake’s fault.

  “The police have been trying to keep her alive by letting the bomber think he killed her,” Jake said. “I’ve been more than willing to help.”

  Harry grunted.

  “So who did he kill if it wasn’t you?” Alice asked. I could see the collar of a pair of pink pajamas peeking out from under the collar of her uniform. I bet there was a pair of pink pj bottoms under the navy pants she had on. “Or wasn’t it anyone at all? Was it all a line the police fed us to keep you safe?”

  “There was definitely a body,” I said, “but they don’t know for sure whose yet. Or maybe I should say, at least they haven’t told me. It was probably my landlord.”

  “Whose idea was it to let everyone think it was you?” Harry asked, his anger draining away.

  “Lem Huber of the Lancaster City police.”

  Harry nodded. He knew Lem.

  Nancy approached us. “Would you mind moving to the waiting room?” she asked. “There’s another victim of the car fire arriving.”

  We just started in that direction when the door flew open again and the other accident victim was wheeled in. Another flurry of “Rose! You’re dead!” echoed through the emergency room, blending with the groans of the survivors. None of us even noticed the TV crew until a microphone was shoved in my face and WGAL’s Patty Carlson asked, “Rose Martin, what’s it like to return from the dead?”

  I took a deep breath and told myself not to panic. My secret was already blown. What did it matter if all of Lancaster County would be privy to my resurrection, not just my friends and coworkers?

  It mattered. I didn’t dare hope that my enemy wouldn’t watch TV or read the paper during the next few days.

  I turned to smile sweetly at Patty. “Do you realize that my death was announced to keep me alive? If you put this report on the air, I could once again become the bomber’s target. Do you want that on your conscience?”

  She yelled, “Cut!” The TV crew put their camera down and she grinned at me. “What a great interview,” she said. “Right to the point. Thanks! We’ll just cut the conscience crack.” And they disappeared.

  I stifled a groan and turned to find the whole Bird-in-Hand ambulance crew waiting for me plus a couple of our firemen who’d come in to get minor burns treated. They hugged me and patted me on the back and yee-hawed loudly enough to cause Nancy to send us packing again. Out in the parking lot they crowded around me once more.

  Suddenly Alice said, “The diner, everybody. We can’t stand here forever. Besides, I’m hungry. I need a good burger.”

  “Right,” Harry said. “We need a celebratory cup of coffee to toast our Rose.”

  “Only coffee?” someone yelled. I think it was one of the Amish firemen.

  “Coffee,” Alice said. “This is our sweet Rose we’re celebrating, not a deadbeat like you, Amos.”

  And everybody laughed.

  We sat around several tables pushed together at the diner. Half the crowd had breakfast, the other half had hamburgers. I had breakfast with my eggs over easy and lots of hot tea. I held Jake’s hand under the table.

  “Did you know we were planning a memorial service for you?” Harry asked as he poured syrup over his pancakes until even his eggs were floating in the sweet liquid. He sat directly across from me and seemed to have trouble taking his eyes off me.

  “He was in charge.” Ben Zuckerman pointed to Harry. “He was pulling out all the stops, let me tell you. And Alice was going to sing.”

  “I was already practicing,” she said. She gave a few la-la-la’s and was booed by the rest of the crew.

  “Harry even asked the mayor to come and give the eulogy,” Ben said.

  “The mayor!” I couldn’t believe it. “He doesn’t have the faintest idea who I am.”

  “I know.” Harry grinned. “But you deserved all the stops pulled out, and he loves photo ops.”

  “You guys are wonderful,” I said, loving them all. “I’m sorry for what I put you through, especially you, Harry. And I can’t thank you enough for caring so much.”

  “Hey,” shouted Alice, checking her watch. “I’ve got to get going. I need to have time to get beautiful for my students.” She sighed. “This won’t be one of my better days as a teacher, I don’t think.”

  “Count it a success if you stay awake,” Harry said. “Now, me. I’m going home to sleep, at least as long as the wife lets me. It’s the chief perk of retirement.”

  I felt like the guest of honor at a shower as everyone came by my chair and gave me a hug. Several of the men looked hard at Jake. He glared right back.

  “In case you haven’t noticed,” Harry spoke along with his stare, “she’s special.”

  “You’ll get no argument from me,” Jake said as he smiled at me.

  Harry looked from one of us to the other and grunted. He lumbered off calling after Alice, “Don’t worry about the reports! I’ll do them. Go home and get a good hot shower. At least it’ll help you stay awake through first period.”

  Finally we headed for the farm, and adrenaline shutdown struck. I was so wiped out I could hardly sit up straight.

  “Sleep, Tiger
. Even the few minutes from here to home will help.”

  I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, but I couldn’t sleep. I felt emotionally torn apart. On one hand, my mind kept pulling up images of the first part of the night: Becky weeping with her head in Annie’s lap. Annie rocking Trevor. Trevor lying on the gurney. Dr. Braeborn’s anger. Sam’s tears.

  Then I’d see a beaming Harry and a singing Alice and a tissue-toting Nancy. I’d see a table full of people rejoicing that the report of my demise was premature.

  “Oh, Jake.” My voice shook more than I meant it to.

  “Hang on, Tiger. We’re almost home. You can make it.”

  “I don’t know what Lem’s going to say when he hears the news,” I mumbled.

  “That doesn’t worry me near as much as what the bomber’s going to do.”

  I shivered. “He still doesn’t know where I am.”

  “And it better stay that way.”

  When we got back to the farm, it was almost 5 a.m. Soon the men would be up and heading for the barn if they weren’t already. Soon Esther’s new employer would be coming to collect her. Soon I would collapse in my bed and sleep.

  I stumbled from the passenger seat and waited for Jake to round the van from his side.

  “Rose?”

  “Jake?” I started around the van. “Are you okay?”

  “Come here.”

  I hurried to him and found him sitting in the shadows. He reached for my hand and pulled me onto his lap.

  “Are you going to be all right?” He searched my face as he pushed my tousled hair out of my face. “You’ve been from the depths of sorrow to the heights of reunions. That’s a lot to deal with.”

  I was moved by his concern, this man who refused to love me. Tears pricked my eyes.

  “I’ll be okay,” I said as I fingered the dark lock that always fell across his forehead. “I’m liable to burst into tears at random moments for the next few days, but I’ll be fine.”

  He wrapped his arms around me and hugged me, the first time he’d initiated such a move. I lowered my head and rested it on his shoulder, my arms about his neck. We sat there quietly for several minutes. I let out a deep sigh, grateful beyond words for his comfort and presence.