“I’d need to take the request to the board, but I have to tell you, as a mental health facility, we don’t have an exam room. We do have a lab, but the tech only works part-time, and even then a lot of the blood work has to be sent out. We usually get the results within a few days.”
“I travel between clinics. Most of what I need I take with me. The real problem is I’m not licensed in Pennsylvania, which doesn’t matter as far as dealing with the Amish community, but it might matter for the licensing and rules of your clinic.”
“I’ll be sure to bring that up at the meeting. The clinic doesn’t have a board-certified medical doctor on staff, but we do have one we can use as an umbrella in certain circumstances, so we may be able to avoid any standards issues through that venue. Bob Marvin is the owner and CEO of the place. He’ll have the answers you need, but he’s out of town this weekend and left word that he’s unavailable.”
“I’m off Monday and was planning to go to Lancaster to visit relatives. I’d hoped to swing by Owl’s Perch on my way. Any chance you can have an answer for me sometime Monday morning?”
“That shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Unless we don’t get the go-ahead, I’ll be there that afternoon, because the sooner this is handled, the quicker Hannah can return to her school schedule.”
Paul grabbed a pen and paper off the refrigerator. “I’m sure Hannah’s very relieved you’re able to help.”
“She means a lot to me, and I’m glad to do what I can. I’ll give you my number, and you let me know as soon as you have an answer.”
“I’m ready.” He jotted down the info and ended the call, wondering exactly how Hannah came to know the doctor.
He slid the paper into his pocket. Wishing he hadn’t canceled hiking plans with Marcus, Ryan, and Taylor, he moved to his aquarium and fed the fish. Diversion with his friends would be nice about now, especially since focusing long enough to read anything seemed impossible.
Couldn’t concentrate. Couldn’t eat. Couldn’t sleep. Yep, the confusion of Hannah was back in his life, sort of. He moved to the couch and stared at the fish tank. The sun went down, and darkness filled the room, except for the light in the aquarium.
A thunderous knock jolted him.
He opened his front door to find his dad and Dorcas on the stoop. She looked frail and upset.
“What’s wrong?” He took a step back, inviting them in.
His dad put his hand on Dorcas’s back and escorted her in. “I knocked several times. Did you not hear me?”
Paul shook his head. “I wasn’t expecting anyone.”
His dad studied him quizzically. “I was on my way to visit Mom. Dorcas asked if I’d drop her by your place.”
Dorcas’s face was pale.
“You okay?”
She shrugged.
His father placed his large hand on Paul’s arm and gave it a friendly squeeze. “I need to go. Your Gram’s expecting me. You want to take Dorcas home later, or you want me to come back by here?”
“I’ll see that she gets home. Thanks, Dad.”
He closed the door behind his dad and turned to Dorcas. He figured she’d gotten wind of how much contact he was having with Hannah. Maybe even Gram told her Hannah came by her place to see him yesterday, but he wasn’t sure what to tell Dorcas. “What’s wrong?”
She held up a white envelope. “I … I got this in the mail today.” She burst into tears and fell against his chest. “What’s wrong with me?”
Paul put his arms around her. After bouts of muscle weakness and severe skin sensitivity for nearly two years, she had gone through a battery of tests a few weeks ago. “You received the results?”
She nodded as the sobs came harder.
He patted her back, hating what she was going through. “It’s okay, Dorcas. Whatever is going on, your family and mine will help you find answers.”
She cried and talked for hours before sleep took over. He eased from the couch beside her, shifted her legs onto the cushions, and placed a blanket over her. She had spent two and half years waiting for him to get over Hannah. She’d been by him through every step of the ordeal as he pined for Hannah.
Now she needed him—desperately.
From his easy chair Paul stared at the woman asleep on his couch, willing his heart to connect with her. He couldn’t stand the idea of leaving someone in overwhelming circumstances again. Hannah had someone. Dorcas had him.
He picked up the crisp, typewritten letter from the coffee table. Unfolding it, he leaned back in the chair. A soft stream of light from the hallway crossed the page. Every result had come back negative, which would be good news except the symptoms she dealt with gave her no relief—the joint pain, the skin sensitivity, the inability to think clearly or remember from one minute to the next.
Needing to be there for her, he tried to put lingering thoughts for Hannah into perspective.
Dorcas opened her eyes.
Paul slid the letter between the cushion and the arm of the chair. “Hi. How are you feeling?”
She sat up. “A bit foolish for coming here and crying in your arms until I fell asleep.”
“It’s not a problem. You were upset, and you should have come here.”
Dorcas’s eyes held fast to him. “What time is it?”
“About two a.m.”
She winced as she tried to sit up.
Paul went to her and extended his hand. “I called your parents so they wouldn’t worry. They wish you’d told them what was going on.” He helped her stand. “You steady?” The pain across her face twisted knots inside him.
She nodded and wrapped her hands around his arm.
He patted her hand. “How about if I fix you some food or some hot tea before I take you home?”
She put her arms around him. “I need you, Paul.”
He rested his head on hers. “And I’ll be right here for you like you’ve been for me, okay?”
Matthew turned off the shower, feeling sore, but with more energy than he’d had in a really long time. The ache for David was nonstop, but he was able to grieve and keep moving. That was a welcome improvement. He and Luke had two weeks of hard work ahead of them getting the old buildings torn down. He dreaded facing that, seeing in his mind’s eye the day of the fire, the day David died, over and over again as they worked, but it had to be done. They’d begin tomorrow. Today was a church Sunday, and he hoped it’d bring him strength to face the next two weeks.
An aroma of coffee hung in the air as he finished shaving. By the time he slid into his Sunday suit, the smell of scrapple and cinnamon rolls filtered through the upstairs. He stepped into the hallway, almost bumping into his mother as she staggered out of her bedroom.
“Mamm, aren’t ya goin’ to church today?”
Tears rolled down her cheeks. “Ich kann net.”
“Mamm, you can.” He kissed her forehead. “We need you. Daed’s lonely for you. Right now it’s like he’s lost a son and a wife. Peter still needs his Mamm. He’s just a kid, but growing up so fast. And Kathryn shouldn’t be tryin’ to run the house while helping me rebuild the business.”
“I wish I’d been a better Mamm for my sweet David.” She brushed tears off her face. “I want another chance.”
Guilt. That hopeless, life-choking guilt.
He hated it.
“Kumm.” He put his arm around her shoulders. “Please.”
She barely nodded, and he escorted her downstairs.
Closing the oven, Kathryn turned. Her gentle eyes surrounded his mother with understanding, but when she looked at Matthew, something else sparked in them. Or maybe he was just hoping he saw something more for him. His Daed thudded through the back door, and Peter slammed the front door as he entered.
“The horses have come inside, ya?” Kathryn looked at his Daed.
He gave a sheepish look, half smiling. “Sorry, I tripped over the feed bucket.”
“In the house?” Kathryn looked at Peter.
“So
that’s what I did with that thing. Sorry.”
“You know, I don’t get paid enough for this nonsense.” She winked at Mamm and poured her a cup of coffee.
When Kathryn returned to the stove and set the coffeepot on the eye, Matthew sidled up to her. “Mamm’s guilt is getting worse, not better.” He grabbed the plate of scrapple.
Kathryn looked up at him.
He shrugged. “I was hoping you knew something to say.”
Kathryn lifted the pan of cooling cinnamon buns off the back of the stove. “I … I have no idea what to say, or I’d have said it already.”
“We gotta try something.”
She nodded, and they both moved to the table and set the items in place.
Kathryn passed out the cloth napkins and took a seat.
“Mamm, you know Kathryn’s dealt with a rough patch of grief too.”
Mamm stirred her coffee. “Yes, I know.”
Kathryn took a sip of coffee and eased the cup back to the table. “When my brother died, it seemed there was nowhere to put the affection I had just for him. It’s like it banked inside me, and I ached to do something for him again. Then I began to constantly relive all the times I fought with him.”
Mamm nodded. “Ya, I can see feeling that way.”
Daed took a seat and poured himself some coffee. “I’m not short on feeling like I failed him. Over the last few years, I’ve spent weeks at a time away from home, traveling with the Amish carpenters.” His eyes rimmed with tears. “I miss the days when most Amish could make a living farming.”
The room was silent, much as it had been since David died, but this time a vapor of hope seemed to swirl, like the unseen aromas of coffee and cinnamon buns.
Peter squirmed in his chair, making it screech against the floor. “I promised him I’d help that day in the shop. If I’d been there, I’d have smelled that gasoline before it could catch fire.”
Mamm gasped and grabbed Peter, knocking her coffee over. “No. If you’d been there, I could have lost you too. You have no sense of smell, child. What are you thinking?”
Peter burst into tears mixed with laughter. Kathryn mopped up the spilled coffee. Matthew didn’t miss the nod Daed gave Kathryn—a slight movement that carried the weight of his full approval.
When Kathryn took a seat, Matthew slipped his arm around the back of her chair, and she whispered, “Real love—it’s the best, most painful thing God ever did for us.”
“So really a person should say, ‘I’m in pain with you.’ ” He kept his voice low and tried to hide his laughter.
“Only when they’re dealing with you, Matthew Esh.”
He laughed out loud, and his Mamm looked at him. He pointed at Kathryn. “It’s her fault.”
His Mamm’s eyes narrowed as she looked from Kathryn to him. He leaned the chair back on two legs so Kathryn couldn’t see him as he placed his index finger over his lips and nodded at his mother, answering all the questions she’d never dare to ask. Then he winked at his Mamm.
Inside the Daadi Haus that Luke and Mary shared with Mammi Annie, Hannah rinsed the soapsuds off the last breakfast skillet and stacked it in the dish drainer.
The glow of light from the fall morning danced across the room, turning shadows as fresh air whipped through the barely open window. Luke was like her when it came to open windows. Even in cool weather he wanted a bit of fresh air stirring through a room.
She dried her hands on a dishtowel and grabbed a freshly scrubbed pan to dry it. The kitchen still carried the aroma of a robust breakfast, but the counters were now clean, waiting for the next round of meals. These were the things she remembered most: the steady but calm pace of day-to-day chores, the way daylight filtered through a home void of electric lights, the distinct segments of time—morning, noon, and evening—defined by meals cooked and chores done.
Sarah came into the kitchen, carrying a few glasses. She looked distracted, so Hannah stepped back from the sink. “Did you need to put those in the sink?”
She blinked a few times and then nodded. “I found these upstairs while making beds.”
“Okay, thanks.” Setting the pan on the counter and grabbing another wet dish, Hannah caught a glimpse of Lissa through the window. The little girl shadowed Mary’s every move as they dug up the last of the potatoes for the season. Luke had been ready to go to Matthew’s early this morning in hopes that a full day of work would get a portion of the burned-out building torn down today. As he was heading out the door, Mary’s Daed and a couple of her brothers had shown up and gone with him.
Sarah’s hands shook as she began helping put dishes away. Hannah’s time with her over the weekend was something she would carry in her heart for years to come. They’d made cookies, walked the fields, and lazed around while watching Lissa play at the edge of the creek.
Sarah plunked a dish onto the countertop. “I don’t want you to go.”
“I know. It’s been a wonderful visit. I’ll be back after the first of the year.” Hannah moved to Sarah’s seven-day pillbox, making sure she’d remembered her meds yesterday and this morning. She had, and thankfully, she didn’t seem to notice what Hannah was doing. In spite of the telltale signs of nervousness, losing small tracts of time, and being a little scattered, her sister’s progress seemed remarkable.
Sarah should thank Paul. He seemed really good at his job, able to work with people from all walks of life. Maybe that’s how he’d managed to embrace attending an Englischer college while spending each summer with a Plain Mennonite grandmother and falling for an Old Order Amish girl.
Paul.
She drew a slow breath, trying to control the rogue emotions that hit her concerning him. Aiming to refocus her thoughts, she looked out the window and watched Lissa.
“If you’re not married, can’t you stay?” Sarah asked.
Hannah had clarified she wasn’t married, but that news seemed to make Sarah more determined to hold on to her. “No, I can’t.” She clutched a handful of flatware from the draining basket and dried each piece before sliding it into place in the drawer. Last night Luke, Mary, Sarah, Lissa, and Hannah had sat on the floor near the low-burning potbellied stove, playing a game of marbles. Mammi Annie watched from her rocker, saying she was too old to get on the floor to play a game. It was almost as if nothing had ever ripped them apart, but the weekend had carried a heaviness that Hannah bore in silence.
Mary’s secret.
If Mary truly understood the seriousness of what was going on, she hid it well. But whatever lay ahead, it had to be dealt with openly. Luke had to be told … no matter what the prognosis.
If this Amish district had a medical facility the Plain people trusted going to, like the communities in Alliance had with Dr. Lehman, Mary wouldn’t be in this position. Years ago if Hannah would’ve had somewhere safe to go, her life would be completely different.
Lissa ran inside, chortling. Her cheeks were rosy from the cool morning air. Mary came in the back door, smiling.
“Look!” Lissa held up a funny-shaped rock.
Wondering what Lissa thought she’d found, Hannah glanced to Mary. “What am I looking at?”
Lissa laughed. “It’s a rock. Don’t you know a rock when you see one?”
Hannah, Mary, and Sarah laughed. It was the kind of thing Hannah and Mary would have pulled on adults when they were kids.
Mary placed her hand on Lissa’s head. “Sarah, would you help Lissa wash the rock and then her hands?”
Still laughing at Lissa’s joke, Sarah did as asked.
Mary waited for the bathroom door to close. “Any word yet?”
Hannah removed the towel from her shoulder and placed it on a peg. “No. You doing okay?”
Mary shook her hands, as if trying to wake them. “As nervous as a body waiting to be told whether they’re gonna live or die.”
“How did you manage to push this fear off you for so long?”
“It took us awhile to get pregnant, and I thought God wasn’t going
to let me have a baby until I told Luke the truth. When I conceived, I soared on the clouds for months, confident nothing could go wrong. When concern tried to creep in, I did a good job of telling it to shut up—until the pains began.”
Hannah stifled a sigh. “The part about telling it to shut up—we’re just too alike, you know?”
Mary gave a nod. “I’m beginning to see that.”
The phone inside Hannah’s dress pocket vibrated. She opened it and read an unfamiliar number across the screen. It showed a local Pennsylvania area code, so she pushed the green icon. “Hannah Lawson.”
“Hey, it’s Paul.”
Even if he hadn’t identified himself, with one word spoken she’d recognize his temperate, deep voice anywhere, at any time, even after not hearing him speak for more than two years.
Motioning to Mary that she was going outside, Hannah answered, “Any news?”
“The board approved Dr. Lehman coming in. I called to let him know, and he asked me to tell you he’s doing all he can to be here by lunchtime.”
She had no doubts that Paul had pulled every favor imaginable to get the board to approve this unorthodox visit so quickly, but the news only made Hannah more anxious. What if the prognosis wasn’t good? Hannah closed her eyes, praying for Mary.
“Hannah?”
“I … I’m here. Just really nervous, but I appreciate this a lot.” Why was she telling him how she felt? Was she no longer capable of holding her tongue when talking to Paul?
“I’m uneasy too, but the favor was no problem. I heard from Kathryn Glick last night. She spent most of the weekend planning a community workday. Has lots of people going to the Esh place today to help clear the rubbish off the foundation. She called me last night. Said she’d been trying to keep it a surprise.”
“Well, that explains why Luke was so flabbergasted when Mary’s Daed and brothers showed up to go with him to Matthew’s this morning. I guess Kathryn kept this a secret from Luke and Mary too.”
“Are you at the Yoder place?”
Hannah took in the scenery, the hills, pastures, and barns. “Yes.”
“I have a client to see first, but then I’m going to Matthew’s to lend a hand as soon as I can get there. You know, Sarah should go too and help with lunch.”
Sisters of the Quilt Page 80
