Redeeming Grace and the Prodigal Son Returns

by Emma Miller

  She barely noticed when Dat took the seat next to her.

  “I called the Wrights,” he said. “They’ll take the news to Eli’s, and it will be passed on from there.”

  As the afternoon wore on, people started showing up at the hospital. Annie and Matthew Beachey were among the first, and Annie had brought some fresh clothes for them both.

  By the time Ellie changed her dress, the corridor was filled with Amish. Friends and family surrounded them. She numbly returned to her seat and heard Dat relating the news to some recent arrivals.

  “The doctor said they would have to operate. He said it didn’t look like the bullet had hit his lung, but it broke his shoulder blade. He wasn’t sure what other damage had been done.”

  Dat’s words sank in slowly. Was Bram still alive?

  Mam sat down, and Ellie found herself clinging to her. She gave way to the tears that she had dammed up. Her failed promises to Daniel, her doubts about Bram, her own miserable pride all caught up in tears that flowed like a spring flood.

  * * *

  Bram gunned the engine, Kavanaugh’s breath hot on the back of his neck.

  “Go, go, go!” The gangster cursed at him, and Bram put all his weight on the accelerator, but his foot couldn’t reach the floor—the Packard didn’t move. Bram risked a look over his shoulder. Kavanaugh’s face disappeared in an explosive flash.

  Bram’s eyes shot open. Ellie was in danger. He struggled to sit up, fighting against the pain that seared across his shoulder and down his back.

  Ellie’s face came into view.

  “Bram, don’t try to move.”

  But Kavanaugh would kill her; he had to move. He fought against the black fog in his mind.

  “Bram, it’s all right. You’re in the hospital.”

  Ellie’s voice pierced the thick layer. The hospital? Pieces of the events in the barn fell into place in his mind like shattered glass shards, arranging themselves into bits of memory. He lay still, watching her face. Her blue eyes were red-rimmed and wet, as if she had been crying. A tear made its way down her cheek, and he tried to lift his hand to brush it away, but the only thing that moved was his index finger. His right arm, shoulder and chest were covered in bandages. Kavanaugh... Where was he?

  His eyes sought Ellie’s again. “Wh...wh...”

  “Shh. Don’t try to talk.”

  Ellie moved away as a nurse bustled in. Quiet shoes whispered on the wooden floors.

  “Lie still, young man.” The middle-aged nurse spoke in a no-nonsense tone, and he couldn’t fight her. His chest felt as if a heavy weight held it down. The nurse gave him a sip of water after checking his pulse and temperature.

  “He’s doing fine so far.” The nurse shook the thermometer and placed it in her pocket. “You may stay only a few more minutes. He needs to get his rest.”

  The nurse left the room as Ellie came into view again. Behind her were John and Elizabeth.

  “Tell me what happened to Kavanaugh.” His voice was stronger. The water had helped.

  Ellie glanced at John. The older man looked down at his feet, then back at Bram. “You shot him.”

  “Is he dead?”

  John shook his head. “Ne, praise Gott.”

  “Where is he? You can’t let him get away.”

  “He’s here in the hospital, along with that other man.”

  Bram closed his eyes, exhausted. He had to let Peters know where to find them, but not now.

  “We’d better go.”

  Bram forced his eyes open to see John ushering Elizabeth out of the room. Ellie stood by his feet.

  “I need to go, too.”

  “Ne, wait.”

  She moved to his side and rested her hand on his as it lay outside the covers. Her mouth quivered as she looked at him.

  “If you and your father hadn’t come... I still don’t know how you got there.”

  “Dat had a feeling there was something wrong.”

  “Ja, he was right.” Bram closed his eyes, but he opened them again as he heard Ellie start to move away. “Don’t go.”

  Ellie shook her head. “I need to. The nurses won’t let me stay.” Her hands shook, as if she was trying to bear up under a great strain.

  “I’m not going to die, Ellie. I’m here for you.”

  Ellie smiled at him, a quick, tearful smile, and then turned and followed her parents out the door as the nurse came in again.

  “Now, no arguing. You need your sleep.” The nurse adjusted his pillows, checked his IV and took his pulse again. Her eyebrows rose as she looked at him. “Your pulse is up a bit.”

  “I need you to do something for me.”

  The nurse didn’t answer until he had swallowed the pills she gave him.

  “Will it help you rest?”

  “Ja...I mean yes. I need to make a phone call.”

  “No phone calls for you, young man.” She moved to the end of his bed to adjust the sheets.

  “Is there someone who could send a wire for me?”

  “I can send a telegram for you, but you have to promise to go to sleep then. All right?”

  Bram nodded, and the movement made his head ring. He gave the nurse Peters’s information.

  “Tell him where I am and that I have some of his friends.” He moved his head toward her too quickly and winced from the pain.

  “None of that. I’ll send your message.”

  “One more thing. I have to talk to the police.” His voice was getting weaker. Making an effort to rally his strength just made him sink further. Whatever drug she had given him was taking effect.

  “Sure. They’ll be here first thing in the morning to talk to you if you’re feeling up to it. They always do for a shooting.” She unfolded a blanket over his legs. “Although what Amish folk are doing involved in a shooting...” Her voice faded.

  “Those other men...” But she was already out the door, beyond hearing. He was helpless against the sleep that claimed him.

  * * *

  Ellie sat alone in the back of the buggy while Dat drove home. Brownie’s hooves kept up their tireless cadence on the road while lightning bugs hovered above the fields in the growing darkness, floating in the hot breezes that carried the scent of acres of cornfields.

  Exhaustion made her head thick, numb, so much like the days after Daniel’s death....

  But Bram wasn’t dead. Ellie choked back a sob before Mam could hear it. This was what she had been afraid of, wasn’t it? That if she let herself care for another man...

  Bram wasn’t dead, but that didn’t mean he felt anything for her. That man in the barn... Ellie shuddered as she remembered his cold eyes, the blow that had sent her reeling to the ground. This was Bram’s world—violence, blood, death. Did Gott have any place in a world like that?

  Mam turned in her seat and reached back, resting her hand on Ellie’s knee. “Bram seems to be doing well after his surgery, doesn’t he?”

  Ellie nodded, not trusting her voice.

  “Annie said they would move him into their house after he’s released from the hospital. We’ll have to be sure to get the women together to can her garden, since she certainly won’t have time.” Mam paused, looking carefully at Ellie’s face in the growing darkness. “It will be all right, daughter. Bram will come back to us.”

  “It doesn’t matter, though, does it?” The words came before Ellie could stop them, strident in the night air. “He’s never been one of us. He’s Englisch, and he’ll be going back to his Englisch world now that he’s caught those two criminals.” She ended with a choked sob.

  Mam glanced at Dat and then turned around to face the front again. Ellie’s face burned. Her words and her tone had both been hateful.

  “I’m sorry Mam, Dat. I shouldn’t have said
that.”

  “We don’t know Bram well.” Dat’s voice was soft, tender, almost sad. The things he had seen today had shaken him, too. “But I do know this, Ellie. He’s an honorable man, but his past followed him here. We’ll have to wait and see how today’s events will affect him.”

  “Ja, you’re right.”

  Mam and Dat lapsed into silence, and Ellie let the swaying motion of the buggy calm her. Could Bram ever come back and be one of them? His words as he had spoken to that man in the barn had been as cold as death, and the determined look on his face as he had fired his gun haunted her memory. She saw no reluctance to use violence in his actions, only the same set look she had seen on Dat’s face when he killed a snake. But this Kavanaugh wasn’t a snake; he was a man, and violence against another man was against the Ordnung. Against the Bible. How could Bishop accept him into the church after this?

  * * *

  Bram woke with every temperature and pulse check through the night. If these nurses were so concerned about him sleeping, why didn’t they leave him alone so he could do it?

  Dawn brought a shift change with a visitor. Elwood Peters walked into his room as soon as the nurse had finished with the temperature check.

  “I’m glad to see you’re still with us.” The older man’s clothes were rumpled, his face gray and unshaven.

  “You look worse than I feel.” As he tried to smile, Bram concentrated on keeping his body still. Every movement sent a shot of pain through his chest.

  Peters pulled a chair over to Bram’s bedside and sat heavily on it, tossing his hat onto the blanket covering Bram’s legs.

  “Yeah, sleeping on a train will do that to you.”

  He reached into his pocket for his pack of cigarettes, tossed one out into his waiting hand and then stopped with a mild curse.

  “I forgot. No cigarettes in here.” He gestured his hand toward the oxygen tank sitting next to Bram’s bed.

  Bram found himself cringing at Peters’s language. When had cursing become offensive? It hadn’t been that long since he had talked the same way.

  “What about Kavanaugh?” Bram had to know.

  “Kavanaugh is still here, just a couple doors down the hall. He’s in worse shape than you are. His goon—”

  “Charlie Harris.”

  “Yeah, Charlie. He had a flesh wound in his shoulder, and he’s in the city jail this morning.”

  Bram’s muscles released their tension with Peters’s words. He sank into the softness of the hospital bed. Ellie was safe. How soon would he see her again?

  “With those two in custody, Kavanaugh’s gang is finished.” Peters leaned back in his chair, tapping his cigarette against his knee. “It’s a good feeling, Dutch, and we couldn’t have done it without you and your work.”

  “Yeah, well, just keep that part to yourself.”

  “Are you sure? There’s a reward. It would set you up for life.”

  “I don’t want money for this. Give it to the policemen’s fund or something.”

  Peters tapped his cigarette against his knee and stared out the window. He had something on his mind.

  “Now that this business is over, we could use you back. The gangs are all moving out west. California, Nevada. We made Chicago too hot for them. You could work for us out there. Become an agent, not just an informant.” He shifted his eyes to Bram’s. “You show real promise. You have a gift for this kind of work.”

  Bram couldn’t look at Peters. He moved his gaze toward the window. No clouds. They sure could use some rain.

  What Peters was offering...wasn’t that what he had always wanted? He knew he would be a good agent. It would be a hard life and probably a short one—agents didn’t have a very long life expectancy. But the thrill of getting his man! He had felt something like it when he had faced Kavanaugh in the barn. How many crooks could he get off the streets? How many innocent lives could he protect in that kind of work?

  The hollow clip-clop of an Amish buggy on the street outside drifted up to his open window. The measured beats of the horse’s hooves slowed his thoughts, brought them back to Ellie, the children, his farm, the church. He felt that fluid, silken movement again, caressing his mind.

  That unseen presence had never left him since he’d first felt it—since he’d first come back. Would it be with him if he took Peters up on his offer? Even if it was, his heart would be here.

  The sounds of the buggy faded off into the distance. He knew where he belonged.

  Chapter Nineteen

  After three weeks of lying in a hospital bed, Bram was anxious to get out of there, although he’d hate giving up the electric fan that cooled the ward. The end of July could be stiflingly hot in northern Indiana, but this year the temperatures felt like a blast furnace, and still no rain in sight.

  He leafed through a copy of Look magazine. The headlines spoke of the coming Olympic Games in Berlin, a civil war in Spain, the heat wave two weeks ago that had claimed nearly five thousand lives across the nation. And Adolph Hitler’s picture was everywhere.

  Bram let the magazine fall closed and pushed it away, along with the news. He was so weary of the world and its problems. Was John right when he said believers were to keep themselves separate from the world? John was confident in his belief in Gott and the brotherhood of the believers—but where did his confidence come from? The older man centered his world on his church and his family, not the cares of the world.

  Not that he wasn’t concerned about the people in the world—Bram had heard the killing heat and the violence in Spain mentioned in his prayers—but they weren’t his utmost concern. John’s greatest desire, he had said, was to see his children and grandchildren close around the family table, in fellowship and love.

  A fitful breeze fluttered in the leaves of the maple tree outside the window, catching Bram’s eye, and he watched them turn one way and then the other, limp and ragged in the dry heat. “Blown by the cares of the world,” John had said once.

  John’s words described Bram perfectly. Tossed and turned by events and ideas that had no place in the Amish life, but where did they fit into his life? What was his greatest desire?

  Memories of the day he and Ellie had taken the children to LaGrange came to his mind. Family. Home. The bright laughter in Johnny’s eyes, Susan’s shy smile, Danny’s downy-soft hair. And Ellie.

  Could he be to them what John was to his family? Could he be the one to pray for them, discipline them, lead them to a life of obedience and joy?

  The window disappeared as his eyes grew wet. Could this be why Gott had brought him home to Indiana?

  The large ward was quiet in the afternoon heat, with most of the men dozing or reading. Sitting up slowly, Bram waited for the gray fog in his head to clear. He had been given bathroom privileges just yesterday, but he was still too weak to walk down the hall alone. The young, pretty nurse who worked the day shift glanced up from her charts and walked toward his bed.

  “Now, Mr. Lapp, you aren’t going to try anything dangerous on your own, are you?” Her voice was light, but the set of her mouth told him she still wouldn’t put up with his efforts to take care of himself.

  “I just wanted to go down the hall for a bit.” The gray was clearing, and he tried a smile. It worked.

  The pretty nurse smiled back at him and felt his forehead in a way that was half professional check, half a caress. “I’ll get a wheelchair and take you myself.”

  He eased into the chair she brought, glad he had the use of one hand to help steady himself. As soon as he was settled, the nurse wheeled him toward the hallway.

  “I hear you’re going home today,” she said as the cumbersome chair rolled along the narrow hall. Bram searched through his mind for her name but came up empty.

  “That’s right. The doctor’s letting me go to my sister’s house
. She’ll take good care of me.”

  “We’ll certainly miss you here.” She gave him another smile as she opened the door of the bathroom for him and helped him to his feet. “You’ll be all right on your own?”

  Bram steadied his shaking knees. He hated being so weak, but there was no chance he was letting the nurse help him in the bathroom. “Sure, I’ll be fine.”

  Once he finished, he was glad to sink into the wheelchair again. Who knew a man could lose his strength so quickly?

  As the nurse started wheeling him back to the ward, he kept his gaze on the door at the far end of the hall. He’d be going through that door soon, free to get his life started again. Free to see Ellie again. As if his thoughts had beckoned her, the door opened and Ellie walked into the hallway, followed by her father.

  At the sight of her slim form with her black bonnet and a lightweight black shawl covering the blue dress, Bram’s eyes grew moist again. He leaned toward her. Couldn’t this chair go any faster?

  “It looks like you have visitors,” the nurse said.

  John stepped forward. “We’re here to take Bram home, if he’s ready to go.”

  Home. Bram sought Ellie’s eyes. She glanced at him once with a tentative smile and then looked at the floor.

  “The forms still need to be signed by the doctor,” the nurse said. “But you can wait on the sunporch until they’re ready.”

  “I’ll wait with them,” Bram said, watching Ellie. He hadn’t seen her since he had woken up after his surgery—he hadn’t seen anyone except John. The older man had stopped in to visit a couple times a week, taking the time to talk with Bram about nothing in particular, and always giving Bram guidance, sharing his faith and answering his questions.

  After the nurse wheeled Bram to the screened-in porch that overlooked the street outside, she disappeared to find his doctor. Ellie sat in a chair near Bram, still silent, while John walked to the screened window and looked out.

  “Well,” he said, clearing his throat, “I think I’ll go find a drink of water.”

  The wink he gave Bram as he left the room made Bram smile, in spite of Ellie’s silence. John would be gone for a while, giving them a chance to talk.