by Marta Perry
“What can you do about it?” Katie’s lilting voice carried a rich Pennsylvania Dutch accent. She took a sip of hot tea from a heavy white mug.
“I’m thinking.” Amber drummed her fingers on the red Formica tabletop.
“You’ll lose your license if you deliver babies, ja?”
“Ja. Unless I find another doctor who’ll support me.”
Katie brightened. “Why not ask Dr. Drake over in Haydenville?”
“Because Doctor Drake, great doctor that she is, is a DO, a Doctor of Osteopathic Medicine. The state requires my backup to be a Family Practice physician or OB/GYN. Most clinics and MDs won’t partner with a midwife who does home births. They don’t want to pay the huge malpractice insurance fees that go along with it. Dr. Harold is one of the few physicians who’ll take the risk.”
“Because the Amish do not sue.”
“Right.”
“This is not so easy a problem to solve.” Katie tapped her lower lip with one finger.
Propping an elbow on the table, Amber settled her chin on her hand. “I wish I could talk to Harold about it.”
“Why can’t you? It is his office. He should have some say in how it is being run.”
“The last thing he needs is to hear his beloved long-lost grandson and I are at loggerheads. In that respect, Phillip is right. Harold doesn’t need more stress. When he’s better and comes home, things will get back to normal. In the meantime, I’ll keep looking for a doctor who’ll partner with me. Until then, I’ll have to bear with Dr. Phillip while I work on changing his mind.”
“I have met your doctor. He had lunch here yesterday. He’s a handsome man.”
Amber rolled her eyes. “Is he handsome? I hadn’t noticed.”
“For an Englisher, he’s not bad. Those dark eyes are hot.”
“They’re blue, and a good Amish woman should not say a man is ‘hot.’”
Katie giggled. “I am Amish, I am not dead. If you know what color his eyes are, you’ve been looking, too.”
“Okay, I noticed he is a nice-looking man, but handsome is as handsome does. What he’s doing isn’t handsome.”
“You’re right. Elam’s sister, Mary, will be so upset if she must go to the hospital to have this baby. She didn’t have a good experience there with her first child.”
Elam Sutter was a special someone in Katie’s life. He and his mother, Nettie, took her in when she had returned from the English world destitute and pregnant. That act of kindness had blossomed into love for the pair. His sister, Mary Yutzi, had only recently become a patient of Amber’s.
“Elam’s mother convinced Mary you would do a better job. For less money, too.”
A smile tugged at the corner of Amber’s mouth. “I’m glad Nettie Sutter thinks I do good work. Thank her for the recommendation.”
It had taken years but Amber was finally finding acceptance among the majority of the Amish in the area. People like Nettie Sutter were the key. Older and respected, their word counted for a lot with the younger women in the community.
Amber took a sip of her tea, letting the warmth of the gourmet blend soothe away some of her irritation. “Two of my expectant mothers have appointments today. I’ll let them know what’s going on when they come to the office. As for the rest of my clients, I can visit their homes on Sunday to explain things and prepare them.”
“It is our church Sunday. Everyone will be at Levi Troyer’s farm. It will save you some miles if you come there after the service.”
“Thank you. If you’re sure it’s all right, I’ll drop in. Of course, I might not need to. In this tight-knit community, the word may have spread already.”
“Ja, you could be right.”
“How is Elam, by the way?” Amber smiled in spite of her unhappiness as a blush bloomed in Katie’s cheeks.
A soft smile curved her lips. “He is well.”
“And the wedding? When will it be?”
Katie’s eyes grew round. “What?”
Amber started laughing. “The whole countryside is talking about how much celery Elam planted this year. It won’t come as a surprise to anyone when you have the banns read.”
Creamed celery was a traditional food served at every Amish wedding. Leafy stalks of it were also used to decorate the tables. When a family’s garden contained a big crop of celery, everyone knew there would be a wedding in the fall.
Blushing sweetly, Katie dropped her gaze. “We don’t speak of such things before the time comes.”
Amish marriage banns were read only a few weeks before the wedding. Until then, the engagement was kept a secret, sort of. Speculating about who would be getting hitched during the months of November and December was a popular pastime.
Amber said, “I’m sorry to tease.”
Katie glanced around, then leaned close. “Not all of the celery is for Elam and me.”
“Really?” Amber was intrigued. Elam lived with his widowed mother. All his sisters and older brothers were already married.
Sitting back, Katie smiled. “I will say no more.”
“Now you’ve got me curious. Is someone courting Nettie?”
“Perhaps, but she isn’t the only one with a new beau.” Leaning forward, Katie tipped her head toward her boss. Emma Wadler was busy cleaning behind the counter.
“Emma and who?” Amber whispered.
Katie refused to comment. Knowing when to give up, Amber said, “I’m sure you and Elam will be very happy together.”
“And Rachel.”
“That’s right, we can’t forget little Rachel. She was my five-hundredth delivery. Did I ever tell you that?”
“No. Looking back all those months ago, I thought it was the worst night of my life. I was unwed, homeless and without family. I didn’t see how things could get much worse. I couldn’t see it would become the best night of my life. I met Elam, I met you, my friend, and I had a beautiful baby girl. Gott has a plan for us even when we can’t see it.”
“If you’re trying to tell me God will take care of my troubles, I already know that. But I can’t sit idly by. I’ve got to take action. Get my own ox out of the well, if you will.”
Katie stirred a drizzle of honey into her tea. “I might be able to help.”
“How?”
“Perhaps I should talk with some of Elam’s family before I say anything. This may be a matter to bring before the church district.”
Frowning in concern, Amber said, “I don’t want you to do anything that will cause trouble for you, Katie. I know you recently took your vows and were baptized into the Amish Church.”
“Don’t worry about me. Worry about the women who are depending on you.”
They were the reason Amber was upset, not for herself. She glanced at her watch. “I should get back to the office. Dr. Phillip is trying to organize some of Harold’s files. Truthfully, they need it. Harold has a terrible time putting things in their place.”
“A day with the furchtbar Dr. Phillip and old files. Sounds like poor fun to me.”
“He’s not terrible. I’m wrong to make him sound that way. The community needs a doctor while Harold is gone and Phillip has put his own career on hold to come here.”
“Ja, we do need a doctor.”
“Even if he’s a wonderful doctor, I just can’t like him. He’s so different from Harold,” Amber muttered, knowing it made her sound like a petulant third grader.
Rising, Katie chuckled. “We must forgive those who trespass against us, Amber.”
“I know,” she admitted. “I’m working on it.”
“And I also must get back to work.”
“I haven’t asked before, but do you like your job here at the Inn?” The café was part of the Wadler Inn, run by Emma and her elderly mother.
“Emma is a good woman to work for. Her mother enjoys watching Rachel while I work. It does fine for me now.”
“Until you marry and become a stay-at-home wife and mother.”
Grinning, Katie nodded.
“Ja, until then.”
Amber paid her bill and headed for the door. Being a wife and mother was something she’d always wanted, but it hadn’t come her way.
Not that it was too late. She was only twenty-nine. So what if most of her Amish clients that age already had three or four children? Meeting an eligible man who wasn’t Amish was as likely as finding hen’s teeth in Hope Springs.
As she opened the door, Amber saw Phillip coming out of the hardware store across the street. He caught sight of her at the same moment. She either had to be civil or pretend she was in a hurry and rush away. Tough choice.
* * *
Phillip halted at the sight of Amber framed in the doorway of the Shoofly Pie Café, an unappetizing name if he’d ever heard one. Once again he was struck by how lovely she was. Today she wore a simple yellow dress with short sleeves. Her hair hung over her shoulder in a single braid that reached her waist. Now he knew how long it was. Obviously, she hadn’t cut it in many years. It was a nice touch of old-fashioned feminine charm.
They stood staring at each other for several long seconds until a man with a thick black beard and a straw hat stopped in front of Phillip. Realizing he was blocking the door, Phillip stepped out of the way. By the time he looked back, Amber was on her way down the sidewalk heading toward the clinic. He sprinted after her, cutting between two buggies rolling down the avenue.
He and Amber had both been doing their jobs at the clinic, but it didn’t take a genius to see she was still upset. Her icy stares and monosyllablic replies weren’t going unnoticed by their patients. Somehow he had to find a way to break through her anger. Phillip couldn’t handle the practice by himself. There was more to medicine than treating symptoms.
Good medicine had physical, emotional and spiritual components. Amber had what he didn’t yet have in Hope Springs. A familiarity with the people he would be treating and knowledge of the inner workings of the town.
He needed to reach some kind of common ground with her if she could get past his stance on home deliveries. As much as he hated to admit it, he needed her help to keep his grandfather’s clinic running smoothly.
Besides, the last thing he wanted was to tell Harold that he’d driven away the irreplaceable Miss Bradley. During their brief phone conversation last night, Harold once again sang her many praises. If Phillip didn’t know better, he might have thought the old man was playing matchmaker.
After crossing the street at a jog, Phillip reached Amber’s side and shortened his stride to match hers. “Morning, Miss Bradley.”
“Good morning, Doctor.”
“Are you on your way to the office?”
“Yes.”
He glanced at his watch. “You’re a little early, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
In spite of the warm summer sun there was no sign of thawing on her part. He said, “We didn’t see many patients yesterday. Can I expect our patient load to be so light every day?”
“No.”
This didn’t bode well for the rest of the day. “The weather has been agreeable. Are summers in Ohio always this nice?”
“No.”
Getting nowhere, he decided to try a different tack.
Phillip saw an Amish family walking toward them. The man with his bushy beard nodded slightly. His wife kept her eyes averted, but their children gawked at them as they passed by. One of them, a teenage boy, was a dwarf. A group of several young men in straw hats and Amish clothing walked behind the group. None of the younger men wore beards.
When they were out of earshot, Phillip asked, “Why is it that only some Amish men have beards?”
He waited patiently for her answer. They passed two more shops before she obliged him. “An Amish man grows a beard when he marries.”
“Okay, why don’t they have mustaches?”
“Mustaches were associated with the military in Europe before the Amish immigrated to this country so they are forbidden.”
“From what I understand, a lot of things are forbidden…TV, ordinary clothes, a car.”
She shot him a sour look and kept walking.
That was dumb. Criticizing the Amish wasn’t the way to mend fences. “Sorry, that was a stupid remark. Guess I’m nervous.”
She kept walking, ignoring his bait. Either she had great patience, grim determination or a total lack of curiosity about him.
He gave in first. “I’m nervous because I know you’re upset with me.”
“Ya think?” She didn’t slow down.
Spreading his hands wide, he waved them side to side. “I’m getting that vibe. People say I’m sensitive that way.”
Had he coaxed a hint of a smile? She looked down before he could be sure.
“Amber, we’ve gotten off to a bad start. I know you must blame me for Harold’s injuries. I blame myself.”
She stopped abruptly. A puzzled frown settled between her alluring eyes. “Why would I blame you for Harold’s accident?”
Chapter Four
Stunned by Amber’s question, Phillip could only stare. She didn’t know? How was that possible? More to the point, once she found out would it kill any chance of a better working relationship? He had opened a can of worms and didn’t know how to shut it. She was waiting for his answer.
“Harold hasn’t told you how the accident happened?” Phillip cringed at the memory.
“He said he foolishly stepped into the path of an oncoming car.”
Phillip stiffened his spine, bracing for the worst possible reaction from Amber. “I was driving that car.”
When the silence lengthened, he expected an angry or horror-filled outburst. He didn’t expect the compassion that slowly filled her eyes.
Encouraged, he forged ahead. “It was the last night of his visit. We’d had an argument. I dropped him off at his hotel. I was angry and waiting impatiently for a chance to pull out into the heavy traffic. When a break came, I gunned it.”
He’d never forgive himself for what happened next. “I should have been paying more attention. I should have seen him, but he rushed out from between two parked cars right in front of me. I couldn’t stop.”
She laid her hand on his arm. “That must have been terrible for you.”
“I thought I killed him.” Phillip relived that terrifying moment, that horrific sound, every time he closed his eyes.
Quietly, Amber said, “Thank you for telling me. I can understand how hard it was for you. I want you to know I don’t blame you. An accident is an accident. Things happen for a reason only God knows.”
Phillip’s pent-up guilt seeped out of his bones, leaving him light-headed with relief. “Now, can we work together without those frosty silences between us?”
He knew he’d made a mistake when her look of compassion changed to annoyance. “I don’t blame you for what happened in Hawaii. I do blame you for making me feel marginalized and ridiculed for my career choice. For brushing aside my years of training and my skills as if they were nothing. I’m proud to be a nurse-midwife.”
Taken aback, he snapped, “Wait a minute. I did not ridicule you. I stated my opinion about home childbirth. An opinion that is shared by the American Medical Association, as I’m sure you know.”
“And so far, not upheld by the courts, as I’m sure you know. Childbirth is not a medical condition. It is a normal, natural part of life.” She started walking again.
Catching up with her, he said, “But it can become a medical emergency in a matter of minutes. I’m sorry we can’t agree on this. However, if we’re going to be working together we need to agree on some other important issues.”
She shot him an exasperated look. “Such as?”
“That my grandfather’s practice is important to him. Both you and I are important to him. He wouldn’t want us at odds with each other.”
He detected a softening in her rigid posture. Finally, she admitted, “That’s true.”
“Right. We can also agree that the clinic needs to run smoothly, that I don�
�t know where to buy groceries in Hope Springs and I haven’t found a barbershop. Can you help a guy out?”
She did smile at that. “The grocery store is at the corner of Plum and Maple. Take a left at the next block and go three blocks east. The barbershop backs up to our building. Go through the alley to Vine Street. It’ll be on your left. And yes, the clinic needs to run smoothly. Our patients deserve our best.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
It was grudgingly given, but he’d won a small victory. “I also don’t know what labs Mrs. Nissley had done. I couldn’t find her chart.”
“I was checking her hemoglobin A1c. She’s a diabetic. Ask Wilma for any charts you can’t find. She has her own system of filing because so many of our patients have the same names.”
“Why is that?”
“Most Amish are descendants of a small group who came to this country in the seventeen hundreds. It is forbidden to marry outside of their faith so very few new names have come into the mix.”
By now they had reached the clinic. He held open the door and she went in ahead of him. To his surprise he saw they already had a waiting room full of people. Word was getting around that there was a new doctor in town.
It seemed that more one-on-one time with Amber would have to wait. He should have walked more slowly.
She leaned over and said quietly, “Something you should know. The Amish don’t run to the doctor for every little thing. They are usually quite sick when they come to us. When they find a ‘good doctor,’ they send all their family and friends to him.”
“And if I’m not a good doctor, in their opinion?”
“We’ll lose Amish clients very quickly and we’ll be out of business in no time. So, no pressure.”
“Right. No pressure.”
The day passed quickly. True to Amber’s prediction, many of the patients Phillip treated had been putting off seeing a doctor since his grandfather’s departure. Two bad cuts had become serious infections. A young mill worker with a gash on his arm and a high fever had to be sent to the hospital in Millersburg for IV antibiotics.
