“What is it then? You’re looking at me strangely.”
“Am I?”
“You are and you know it.” Jacob sunk his fork into a mound of potato salad and popped it into his mouth.
Anna took a sip of water before leaning forward. “I was wondering why you’re sitting with me. I suspect it’s because you don’t want to see the girl in the wheelchair sitting all alone.”
“But you weren’t alone when I sat down.”
Instead of refuting his point, she said, “Isn’t there someone else you’d rather sit with? I’ve noticed several girls giving you long looks.”
Anna tilted her head toward a trio of girls standing near the dessert table. When Jacob looked their way, each girl blushed and began to giggle.
“Are you trying to get rid of me?”
“Not at all.”
“Did it ever occur to you that I might prefer sitting with you?”
“Oh, it occurred to me, but I decided there was probably another explanation.”
He picked up his knife and cut through the large slice of ham on his plate. Spearing a piece of it on his fork, he pointed it at Anna and said, “The only explanation is that I enjoy your company—”
“Which you have nearly every day.”
“And I hardly ever have a moment alone with you.”
She only cocked an eyebrow and continued chewing on the chicken. He was glad to see she wasn’t picking at her food. He’d heard her mention her weight to Erin on several occasions. In Jacob’s opinion that was a silly concern. Her body needed calories, healthy food, and vitamins. If she’d gained a little weight since the accident, maybe that was a good thing too. She should trust her body.
While they finished their food they discussed inconsequential things—the storm of the week before, new neighbors who had moved in down the street, and a recent letter from her mother.
When their plates were empty, Jacob asked, “Dessert?”
“Not yet. I’m too full from the extra roll you gave me off your plate.”
“I gave it to you because you love bread.”
“I do.” Anna’s hands slipped to cover her stomach. “But now I wish I hadn’t eaten it.”
“Ridiculous. A little exercise and you’ll be ready for pie.”
“What did you have in mind? Should I join the game of baseball?”
“You probably could wheel around the bases faster than Jonas King can run them. That boy is slower than my dat’s old mule.” Jacob stood and cleaned off their end of the table, taking their plates to the tub set up for dishes and dumping the water left in their cups onto a flowering bush. He paused for a moment to speak with Erin, stopped by the vegetable table to put a few raw carrots in his pocket, and then he made his way back to where Anna was waiting.
The service had been held at the Millers’. It was close enough that Jacob had walked. He’d passed the barn on the way in, and now he had an idea. He moved behind Anna’s wheelchair and asked her to release the brake.
“Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“What kind of surprise?”
“Wouldn’t be much of one if I told you.”
He backed the wheelchair away from the table and started pushing her across the lawn.
“Maybe I should tell my aenti—”
“I already took care of that.” He slowed the chair, leaned down, and whispered, “Trust me.”
More loudly he said, “And hold on.”
He pushed the chair much faster than usual. The lawn was smooth and Anna didn’t seem in danger of falling out. In fact, he was sure he heard a laugh escape her pretty lips.
By the time he reached the far side of the barn, they were both breathless.
“This is it? You wanted me to see the back of the Millers’ barn?”
Jacob put two fingers to his lips and whistled. When he did, a beautiful roan mare stepped out from the barn. Directly behind her was the foal that he had spied when walking to the service. Somewhat unsure on its feet, the foal followed closely behind its mother, trying to nurse when the mare stopped next to the fence.
Jacob reached into his pocket and handed the carrots to Anna. “She looks hungry to me.”
“The foal is beautiful.” Anna held a carrot piece out to the mare, who accepted it between her large front teeth. After crunching it, she stayed close to the fence, poking her head through the fence rail, obviously hoping for another treat. Anna leaned forward in her chair and stroked the white splash of fur between the horse’s ears, feeding her all of the carrots one by one until they were gone.
“I think she likes you.”
“I think she likes carrots.”
They both laughed when the horse attempted to stick her head all the way through the fence.
“That’s all I have, girl. Go on now.”
Nodding her head, the mare turned and walked away, her foal toddling behind.
“Tell me about your family,” Anna said.
“What’s there to tell? Typical Amish family.”
“Bruders and schweschdern?”
“Only boys—seven of us.”
“So your mamm is a patient woman.”
“She is.”
Anna rolled her chair forward and back. For a moment her eyes were on the foal, who had settled in the shade on the far side of the pasture. When she turned her attention back toward him, Jacob knew that the next question was very important to her.
“Why did you leave them?”
“Some days I can’t remember why.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and allowed his memory to comb back over the years. “I was a middle child, and I guess I thought no one would notice.”
“Did they?”
“Of course. Dat wanted me to stay. He said he needed my help, but he didn’t. There were too many boys for the small amount of acreage we had.”
“There must have been plenty of other jobs.”
“Yes, but I’ve always enjoyed working outside. I couldn’t see myself as a cabinetmaker.”
Anna nodded as if that made sense. “How long have you been away?”
“Four years now. I’ve been back to visit twice.”
“And you didn’t want to stay?”
“Part of me did, but another part had become used to the road—as my bishop predicted.”
Anna ran the fingers of her right hand over the wheel of her chair. “I’m glad you stayed here—that you seem content here.”
“This is where I’m supposed to be, Anna. I can’t imagine moving away now. I wouldn’t want to.” Jacob glanced again at her as he said the last four words. The mixture of emotions on her face and the tears in her eyes caused him to squat in front of her chair, reach out, and touch her cheek.
As he did, the last of bit of reserve he’d carefully placed around his heart began to crumble.
CHAPTER 32
Anna’s emotions soared high and plummeted to the bottom of her stomach in a matter of seconds. When Jacob squatted in front of her, his kind eyes probing hers, and reached out to touch her face, she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
Instead of doing either, she decided to be honest.
“Thank you, Jacob.” Her voice was soft and sincere. “There are many things I’ve missed since the accident, but I suppose what I miss most is being able to enjoy the little surprises of each day.”
She ran her hand over the top of the right wheel. “Most of my days are very much the same, with little to break up the tedium.”
“Except your sewing.”
“Ya. The sewing has helped.”
“But you’re still sad at times. I can tell, and I want… I want to help. That’s why I brought you out here, hoping it might lift your spirits.”
Anna nodded, but she didn’t smile. How could she when her heart was being squeezed so tightly she had trouble pulling in a full breath. “Maybe you could push me over toward that bench?”
Jacob moved behind her chair and pushed her the few feet to the bench that sat alon
g the back wall of the barn. When he’d positioned her chair next to the end, he took a seat.
“I appreciate you’re attentiveness, Jacob. I do. It means more to me than you could know.”
“I hear a but coming.”
“Ya, I suppose so. I like you Jacob, more than I want to admit, and sometimes I think you feel the same.”
Instead of answering that question, he said, “The first day I saw you, the first afternoon I arrived to work for your onkel, I knew you were special.”
“I’m not that person anymore. I’m… broken now.”
“You are the same person, Anna. How can you say that? You have the same heart, the same smile, you care about others, and I think I’ve loved you since that first day because—”
He’d turned toward her, and though it hurt her to do so, Anna reached out and put a finger on his lips. “Let’s not speak of love.”
“Why would you say that?”
The fist around her stomach tightened, but she pushed on. “Because I would not make a good wife, and we both know that. I don’t know if I could have children, and I would be very little good around the house.”
“Those things don’t matter—”
“I would be a burden.” Tears slipped down her cheeks, but she didn’t let them slow the words she needed to share. She wiped the tears away and pushed on. “You deserve someone better, someone who is whole.”
“Anna, that is not true. I’ve cared about you—no, don’t try to stop me again. I’ve cared about you since that first day. When I covered you with my body as the tornado passed by, our lives were sealed together. And when I held your hand as we waited for help, we both knew that we were meant for one another. I dare you to tell me I’m wrong, to tell me you did not feel what I felt.”
“Feelings are not always a good basis—”
“I’ve waited, Anna. It’s been nearly nine months, and I’ve tried to be patient, waiting for you to heal. Waiting for the right moment because I knew you needed time. Now the time for waiting has passed. I don’t want to be patient anymore.”
“But you don’t know me!” She closed her eyes until the hammering in her heart calmed. When she realized how ridiculous that must look, she opened them, but instead of looking at Jacob, she sought out the mare and colt. The sight calmed her and allowed her to confess the things on her heart. “I’m angry a lot of the time. More angry than you can imagine, Jacob. Why did this happen to me? What did I do wrong? Does Gotte hate me?”
He started to speak, but she reached out her hand and stopped him. “Other times I know those questions are wrong. My mood calms, and I wonder what purpose Gotte could have… how He could possibly use me now, in this chair. Mammi is always talking of Gotte’s plan for me, but I can’t begin to imagine what that might be.”
“We can’t always know.”
“So Bishop Levi says.”
“The bishop is right. You should listen to him.”
Anna couldn’t help smiling at the scolding in Jacob’s voice. One minute he was confessing his love, and the next he was speaking to her like a schoolgirl.
“What I’m saying is that not only is my body broken, but so is my heart.”
“Anna—”
“I do need to heal, Jacob, on the inside. And that could take months or it could take years.”
Now he stood, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and faced her. “Then I’ll wait.”
“You will?” Anna gave him her best skeptical look. “When you were speaking to my onkel at breakfast last week, you weren’t sure if you’d be here for the fall harvest.”
“Because I wasn’t sure you wanted me to be here. I wasn’t sure I could bear to stay if you didn’t feel the same way that I do.”
Jacob waited, but Anna didn’t utter the words he wanted to hear. It would only encourage him, and she refused to do that.
“You may not be ready to say you care for me, Anna Schwartz, but you’re too honest to deny it.” Now a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I’m glad we’ve had this talk. I’ll tell your onkel I can stay as long as he needs me.”
Anna shook her head, wanting to warn him that waiting on her was the wrong thing to do. But he was no longer listening. He moved behind her chair and began to push it back toward the group of folks now talking and resting and playing underneath the shade of the Millers’ pecan trees.
After a moment of silence, he said rather gruffly, “And since you won’t speak of your feelings, tell me about this sewing that you’ve begun.”
So she did. She described in detail her visit to Teri’s, the program that provided blankets for children, and how she was able to receive free supplies because fabric was often donated by stores and individuals. Thinking of the quilting lifted her spirits. It was the one thing she could do that benefited someone else.
By the time they had reached the picnic tables, Jacob was teasing her about using Englisch patterns and fabrics. He wheeled her into an open spot between Erin and the bishop’s wife. “I’m sure my mamm has never seen puppy print fabric, and she’s quilted since I was small.”
“Oh, ya. Anna likes the animal prints—dogs and cats, as well as rainbows and flowers.” Erin smiled fondly at her niece. “She’s quite the wild one when it comes to fabric.”
The teasing soothed her raw emotions. Jacob whispered, “Visit with the women. I’ll go and supervise that ball game.”
With a smile and a touch of his hand on her shoulder, he was gone.
Anna mostly listened to the talk of recipes and children as her mind went back over what had happened in the last half hour. Jacob had declared his love for her! Part of her heart wanted to tell her aenti, whisper the news to Mammi, and hurry home to write a letter to her mother. Another part was filled with dread, convinced that once he realized how damaged she was, he would change his mind.
CHAPTER 33
The next few days should have been easier, but instead they were more difficult than any Anna had endured since waking to find herself paralyzed and in an Englisch hospital.
The quilting was going well, but perhaps she worked on it too much. Her eyes would begin to burn from staring at the tiny stitches and her shoulders ached from sitting in one position for so long. Twice she stitched blocks together wrong, and the second time she threw the fabric on the kitchen table and declared, “Take it away from me. All I do is mess up everything I touch!”
Instead of reprimanding her, Mammi toddled over, folded up the quilt piece, and set it in Anna’s sewing basket. “Let’s go to the porch. Sometimes watching Gotte’s rain helps my moods.”
But the rain didn’t help. The sight of it falling and saturating Samuel’s fields only made Anna more irritable. Even the smell of the rain, which she had once found so delightful, scratched against her nerves. After a few moments, she insisted on going inside and being transferred to her bed, but there she only stared at the wall, unable to sleep.
Erin came in to help her with her exercises, and Anna snapped.
“Why even bother doing them? What is the point?”
“Dr. Hartman says your exercises are very important, Anna.”
“I’ll never walk again. We both know that. The exercises make no difference at all. It would be better for everyone if I had died in the storm.”
Erin may have been shocked the first time her niece said this, but no longer. Everyone, including Anna, was well past being surprised by her tantrums. Even as the words left her mouth, she wondered how they could possibly endure her presence. She heard herself. She was aware of how bitter and angry she sounded, and she realized that the person she had become was someone she didn’t like very much.
None of which stopped Erin. She simply reached for the lotion and began rubbing it methodically into Anna’s hands and arms and legs and feet.
“Did you read through the magazine the doctor sent? Exercise promotes neural recovery—”
“It’s hopeless, Aenti.”
“And it reduces the risk of secondary complicati
ons.”
Anna stopped arguing. No one listened. No one understood what it was like to be her, to be trapped in her chair and to have no hope for a normal future.
Erin finished with the lotion and moved on to the physical therapy. She began to move Anna’s right leg through the range-of-motion exercises. Anna watched but didn’t speak, didn’t actually participate in any way. It was like watching someone else’s legs being pushed and pulled. By the time Erin had finished with both legs, Samuel appeared and moved her to the floor.
Anna didn’t put her arms around his neck as she usually did. Instead, she sat on the rag rug Mammi had crocheted and stared at the wall on the other side of the room. She didn’t want to meet her uncle’s gaze. She didn’t want to see the compassion on his face. It would be her undoing. Once her tears started, she would drown in them.
“Having a hard afternoon?”
Erin answered when Anna wouldn’t. “Ya, but the exercises always help, and Jacob said that tomorrow is supposed to be sunny. This rain can pull anyone’s emotions down.”
“But it’s gut for the crops.” Samuel touched Erin’s arm, and then he walked out of the room, whistling one of the hymns from Sunday’s service.
Had it been just Sunday that Anna had shared those special moments with Jacob? Though he appeared at breakfast every morning, they hadn’t spent any other time together. On Tuesday he’d suggested they go to look at the corn maze that had been replanted, but she’d refused. Already her mood had been plummeting.
At times like this, she would have an outburst, followed by moments of silence. She couldn’t help the fact that she clammed up. It was as if she had no words left, no more cries of despair.
She went through her routine with the stretchy band and small weights. She performed the shoulder shrugs and deep breathing exercises, though she was convinced they weren’t helping at all.
When she’d completed all of the tasks and Erin had placed a check mark beside each one listed on her chart, Samuel again appeared. How did he know when they would be done? She couldn’t begin to guess and after her outburst she refused to look him in the eye and ask.
“Wheelchair?” he asked softly.
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