by Marta Perry
“You’ve come to the right place, then.” Fiona divided her smile between Nolie and Aunt Siobhan, both clad in jeans and T-shirts, bandanas protecting their hair. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your help.”
And your support. She wanted to add that, but was still reluctant to expose how much they all meant to her.
“It’s a pleasure.” Aunt Siobhan, looking as young as one of her daughters in the casual clothes, swept a brush along the woodwork. “And besides, it gives us a chance to catch up with you. How is the practice going? Is it building the way you expected?”
Fiona frowned, watching the dingy tone of the wall disappear with a sweep of the roller. “I’m not sure just what I expected. I’m getting by, so far.” She wouldn’t tell them how slim her bank account had become. “But the Amish should be a large part of a nurse-midwife practice in this area, and so far that’s not happening.”
Siobhan’s concerned expression seemed to say that she read what wasn’t spoken. “You know that you can come to us if you need anything, don’t you?”
Her throat tightened. She still wasn’t used to the open-handed, open-hearted way these relatives had accepted her. “Thank you, but it hasn’t come to that yet.”
“Is this reluctance of theirs because of your mother’s family? Have you had a chance to talk with them yet?” Nolie’s roller moved in time with her question, efficient as always. No wonder she was able to juggle her family and her life-altering work so smoothly.
“I’ve talked with an aunt and a cousin,” she said. “So far my grandparents haven’t been willing to see me.”
Distress filled Siobhan’s eyes. “I’m sorry. That just seems so heartless—”
“It’s not that,” she said quickly. “I thought that at first, but it seems my grandmother ended up hospitalized with severe depression after my mother left. They’re trying to protect her, not hurt me.”
“Even so, it affects your livelihood,” Nolie said. “It’s so unfair.”
And now she had that business with the vandals to add to her potential problems. At least according to Ruth, they’d been scared off before they’d done more than tip over a display stand. Even Ruth didn’t know her involvement. Ted had said he’d keep her part quiet for the time being, but he clearly wouldn’t bend any regulations for her. She’d come up against that rigid cop mentality of his a couple of times, and she didn’t like it.
“Is something else wrong?” Siobhan’s words were soft, but they pierced Fiona’s heart. Her aunt Siobhan just saw much too clearly.
The longing to pour all her worries into her aunt’s sympathetic ear almost overwhelmed her. Almost, but not quite. The old habit of holding back, not rocking the boat, was too strong to be overcome that easily.
“No, nothing.” She managed a smile. “I guess I just didn’t realize how much of an effect my mother’s decision would have on me.”
“Ripples in a pond,” Siobhan said. “We can never know how many people will be affected by the things we do. It wasn’t just your mother’s decision, you know. Your father’s actions caused their own set of problems.”
“You mean with his brother?” Was she finally going to learn what the breach between Uncle Joe and her father was all about?
Siobhan’s eyes were touched with sadness. “It was a terrible quarrel, terrible. Joe was as much to blame as his brother. He should have known you don’t dissuade someone from falling in love by shouting at him.”
Her throat tightened. “You mean their breach was caused by my mother?”
Siobhan caught her hand and held it firmly. “No, don’t think that. It certainly wasn’t your mother’s fault. They fell in love, and the only way Michael could see to deal with the situation was by taking her away. Of course Joe thought they were too young, that Michael was ruining her life, and that he wasn’t thinking it through. All that was true enough, but not what Michael wanted to hear.
“I’m so sorry that they’ve never made it up.” Ripples in a pond, indeed.
“Well, what Joe never wanted to admit was that he’d always pictured Michael going into the fire service, as he and their other brother did. That rankled, when Michael was ready to throw that away. And then it turned into plain old Flanagan stubbornness, with neither of them willing to make the first move.”
“Flanagans are famous for their stubbornness,” Nolie said, bending to put her roller down on the tray. “But this seems over the top, even for a Flanagan.”
“Of course it does.” Siobhan’s tone went brisk with what sounded like exasperation. “The sad part is that say what he will, that stubborn husband of mine will never really be right spiritually until he’s forgiven his brother and himself for this foolish quarrel.”
“I suppose my being here has only made it worse.” Everywhere she turned, it seemed Fiona found more problems generated by her presence.
Siobhan’s eyes widened. “If you think that, then I’m telling this all wrong. If not for that stupid quarrel, we’d have known earlier about your mother’s death and maybe have been able to help. Your being here is finally making Joe take a long look at his behavior. Mind, I’m not saying he’ll jump right in with an apology, but I think he’s ready to mend things if your father is.” She looked at Fiona expectantly.
Fiona felt helpless. “I don’t know,” she said. “Really, I don’t. My father never talked about his brother, just as he never talked about my mother. I have no idea how he’d react if Uncle Joe called him.”
“How did he react to your coming here?” Siobhan asked.
“He didn’t like it.” She could only hope her voice didn’t betray how difficult that had been. She still cringed when she thought of that icy scene. “And it seems unanimous. My grandparents don’t like it, either.”
Or Ted. But she wasn’t going to say that.
Siobhan gave her a hug, heedless of their paint-daubed clothes. “Well, it’s not unanimous, because we love having you here. And it will work out with the others, too. You’ll see.” She kissed Fiona’s cheek. “I’m praying for you. God will bring good out of this situation. I know it.”
* * *
Siobhan’s words still comforted her that evening as she turned off the light in the office. She’d sat there after supper, going over the records on her patients, organizing her files. The work comforted her, as Aunt Siobhan’s words did. It affirmed who she was.
The difficult moment came when she’d turned off the lights and walked up the stairs, as she was doing now. This was the lonely time, she had to admit it. Crossroads was so quiet at night, the house incredibly still. Of course she’d rather have it that way than have the excitement of the break-in at Ruth’s store.
She was bending over to take a magazine from the basket next to her chair when the phone rang. It was rare enough to hear it that the sound startled her. She picked it up.
“Fiona Flanagan.”
“Fiona, I’m glad I caught you.” Ted’s voice crackled in her ear, and she caught the wail of a siren in the background. “Miriam Hostetler and her husband have been in an accident—a car hit their buggy. The paramedics are on their way, but she’s asking for you. Will you come?”
“Of course.” A silent prayer for the young woman and her husband filled her mind. “How bad is it?”
“I’d have said not too serious, but she’s scared and shaken up and worried about the baby. We’re on the road you took to their farm the other day—about three miles past the Amish schoolhouse.”
“I’m on my way.” She hung up, snatched her handbag and raced down the stairs to pick up her medical kit as she rushed to the car.
She spun out onto the road, mentally rehearsing the way to the farm. It would take just minutes to get there, just time enough to consider the possibilities. It was highly unlikely for an accident to harm the baby at this early stage, as well protected as it was, but she’d learned to listen to the mother’s intuition. If Miriam thought something was wrong, she had to take that into account.
Lord, You’re seeing what’s going on far better than I could. Please, be with Your servant Miriam now. Protect and comfort her.
It seemed she’d barely finished the prayer when she spotted the revolving lights on Ted’s patrol car. The paramedic unit was on scene, too, and she grabbed her bag and rushed toward it, thanking God that the EMTs had gotten here so quickly. Miriam could use help from all of them.
The black buggy, smashed almost beyond recognition, lay on its side in the ditch, its battery-operated rear lantern still blinking. The big new sedan that had hit it, in comparison, looked barely touched, and she swallowed back anger at the unfairness of it all.
Ted met her at the rear of the unit. He grabbed her and swung her up next to the stretcher. “Let me have your keys,” he murmured. “I’ll see to your car.”
She nodded, handing them over.
“Here’s Fiona, Miriam. Just like you asked.” The heartiness of his voice didn’t quite mask his concern.
“Hi, Miriam.” She kept her voice calm, even as her mind raced, considering possibilities. “How do you feel?”
Miriam’s legs moved restlessly, and she turned her head from side to side, but she didn’t speak.
Miriam lay on the stretcher, the paramedic opposite Fiona bending over her. Only one paramedic in the Suffolk Fire Department had those bright-red curls—her cousin, Terry.
“Terry. I’m glad it’s you. How is she?”
Terry’s blue eyes were dark with concern. “Bumps and bruises, mainly. Shaken and scared.” She straightened, turning her head and lowering her voice. “She’s holding her belly, terrified for the baby. We’d best take her in, I think. Maybe you’ll have better luck than I have at reassuring her.”
Nodding, Fiona edged past her in the narrow confines of the unit to take Terry’s place at the side of the stretcher. She knelt, clasping Miriam’s hand. The girl was pale, her blue eyes wide with shock, as she clung to Fiona’s hand.
“Miriam, I’m here. We’re going to take good care of you. We want to take you into the hospital. Is that okay?”
“If you say so,” Miriam whispered. “My Jacob, is he all right?”
Fiona glanced toward Terry, who nodded as she closed the rear doors.
“He’s fine,” Terry said. “One of the officers is going to drive him to the hospital, while Fiona and I stay here with you.”
Miriam nodded. She was pale, sweating, and her hand kept going to her abdomen. “My baby,” she murmured, her voice fading as if she didn’t want to ask the question.
Fiona looked up at Terry again. “Vitals?”
“Everything okay, but—” Terry shook her head. Obviously her instincts, like Fiona’s, told her something more was wrong. “See if you can get her to talk to you.”
Fiona held Miriam’s hand between both of hers. “Miriam, you have to tell us what’s wrong, so we can help you. It’s all right. Honestly.”
Tears spilled over on the girl’s ashen cheeks. “Cramps,” she whispered. “I kept having them today. I’m afraid for the baby. That’s where we were going. I told Jacob he must take me to you.”
Her heart clutched. Cramping happened sometimes early in pregnancy with no ill effect, but she didn’t like it, not combined with the accident and the way Miriam acted.
“Okay, I’m just going to have a quick look. You hold on. We’ll be at the hospital soon.” She maneuvered to the foot of the stretcher as Terry slapped the door that led to the cab of the unit.
“Hit the siren, Jeff.”
The van accelerated, swaying a little, as the siren started to wail. Fiona pushed Miriam’s dark skirt aside, moving gently, and saw what she feared she’d see.
Her gaze met Terry’s over the patient, and it was as if they could read each other’s thoughts. The siren’s wail was like a mournful cry, echoing the pain in her heart.
* * *
Ted stalked down the hospital corridor. Ironic. He’d ended up bringing the driver of the car to the same hospital where Miriam was being treated, but in his case it was for a blood alcohol test. A salesman, the driver had been out celebrating a big sale and decided to take a shortcut back to Suffolk. He must have been ripping along the dark country road. The buggy hadn’t had a chance.
Ted would never be able to prove the speed, of course, with no witnesses, but the lack of skid marks told the story, and the results of the blood alcohol test would seal the case.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t going to ease the pain Miriam and her husband were feeling.
He rounded a corner, hesitated, and then went forward. Miriam’s and Jacob’s parents waited, faces stoic, eyes bright with unshed tears. They must know what he’d just been told. Miriam had lost the baby.
“Joseph. Anna.” Ted nodded toward the other set of parents, whom he didn’t know as well as he did Jacob’s family. “I’m very sorry.”
“It is in God’s hands,” Joseph said. He clasped work-hardened hands together. His wife nodded, but Ted could feel her grief.
“Are you waiting to see Miriam?”
“The midwife is with her now.” Joseph gestured slightly toward the door opposite them.
It stood ajar, and the tableau he saw made his breath catch. In the pool of light from a fixture above the bed, Fiona leaned forward, holding Miriam’s hand, talking earnestly to her. Even in profile, he could see the warmth and caring that flowed from her toward the girl on the bed.
Jacob stood on the other side, head bent. Tears trickled into his beard, but he nodded, as if taking comfort from Fiona’s words.
His throat tightened. Fiona had so much caring and devotion to give. This had to be tearing her up, too.
She moved, apparently catching sight of those who waited, and stood. She said something else, to the couple, and then bent to press her cheek against Miriam’s before straightening and walking toward them.
She nodded to the parents, holding the door open so that they could file through. He heard Miriam give a soft cry at the sight of her mother, and the door swung shut, closing the family in, leaving him and Fiona alone in the hallway.
“Ted.” Her voice trembled on the edge of tears. She wiped her eyes with her fingers. “I can’t even begin to imagine—” She looked around blindly.
His heart twisted with pity. “Here.” He grasped her arm and steered her toward a nearby door. “Let’s go in the lounge.”
Fortunately the room was empty. A lamp on the pale wood end table illuminated a hard-looking couch and a straight-backed chair. A few old magazines were strewn on a coffee table. He led her to the couch.
“Relax a minute. There’s nothing else you can do for her now.”
She sank down, covering her face with her hands. “There was nothing I could do at all. Terry and I were right there, but we couldn’t save the pregnancy.”
Anger burned along his veins. “The accident—”
“The accident didn’t cause the miscarriage.” She looked up at him and shoved her hair back with her fingers. Her eyes were red, but she seemed under control. “It would be unlikely, since the baby’s so well protected at this early stage. Miriam told me she was already having cramping. Jacob was bringing her to see me when the car hit them.”
Her lips trembled, and she pressed them tightly together.
He sat down next to her. “I wish it could have had a happier outcome for them. And for you.” That was as close as he could come to comforting her.
“I don’t matter,” she said quickly. “But Miriam—well, I tried to reassure her. The obstetrician from the birthing center will check her out as well, but I don’t see any reason why she shouldn’t have a successful pregnancy the next time.”
“That’s good news.”
She nodded, but anger flickered in her eyes. “I hope it doesn’t make things any easier for the driver. He can’t be held responsible for the miscarriage, but he ought to spend time inside a cell for this.”
“He’ll be prosecuted, believe me.” Almost without willing it, his hand had covered hers wher
e it lay on the couch between them. “I have enough evidence, which is fortunate because Jacob and Miriam won’t testify against him.”
“Won’t testify?” She turned a fiery gaze on him. “What do you mean?”
“Just that.” He understood, but it didn’t make his job any easier. “It’s not the Amish way. They’ll forgive, and they won’t turn to the law. Even if they were actively being persecuted, they would leave rather than fight back. It’s a matter of religious conviction with them.”
The anger drained away from her expression, leaving her pale and tired looking. “I guess maybe I need to work a little harder on the forgiveness aspect of being a Christian. Right now I can only ask God why this happened.”
His fingers curled around hers. “I don’t think He minds a few honest questions. Or even a little honest anger. At least I hope not, or I’m in trouble.”
“Is that part of why you left the Amish community?” She turned slightly toward him, and for the first time he felt as if the barriers between them had weakened.
“Among other things.” He shook his head. “I can never leave entirely. It’s a part of me, even though I can’t live the life.”
“You’re doing a balancing act between two worlds.” She said what he had often thought, and it moved and startled him that the understanding could come from someone he thought of as an outsider.
“That’s it. Sometimes I feel as if I really am one of the ‘world people.’ And then I’ll hear someone blaming the Amish for causing accidents by driving buggies on public roads—”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Yes.” He felt the conviction harden in him. “Driving under the influence caused tonight’s accident, and justice will be done because that’s the law, not because I know and care about the folks who were injured.”
“You can’t stop caring.” Her hand turned so that their palms touched, their fingers entwining, and her warmth flowed through that touch.
“No, I can’t.” He barely murmured the words.
