Caring For Susie (Amy's Story Book 1)

by Brenda Maxfield

  As she stood there waiting, it came to her. Uriah Umble. That was who was in the back seat. What was he doing in an Englischer’s car? Her chest tightened. Beulah should not be dating him. He was bad news, and Amy should tell her about seeing him in the car…

  Her thoughts were interrupted when a buggy came into view. The steady clip clop of the horse’s hooves slowed slightly as it approached. Peter. He was there.

  Amy stepped out from the cover of the branches and climbed into the buggy when Peter leaned over to open the passenger’s door.

  “Hello, Amy,” he said, smiling. “Am I late?”

  She shrugged. “Nee. I’ve only been out here for a couple minutes.”

  “How are you? And you got my letter I see.”

  “Jah. I did.”

  He snapped the reins and they started off. “Which do you prefer? Edmund’s Pond or driving?”

  “Let’s drive a spell.”

  He let out his breath. “I was hoping you’d say that. Chances are that one of my brother’s might be at Edmund’s Pond fishing this evening.”

  “And you don’t want him to see us…” she murmured.

  He shook his head, grinning. “Nee, I don’t.”

  An expected response, but it bothered Amy. Was he embarrassed to be seen riding with her? Was this evidence that he would never ask her to be his wife?

  Ach, but her imagination was going crazy again. She clasped her hands on her lap and turned toward him.

  “How has your week been?”

  He tipped his head from side to side. “Fine. Helping Dat in the fields like always.”

  “So, you like farming?” It seemed a silly question, but then, how much did she really know about Peter?

  “I do. Can’t imagine doing anything else.”

  “Some Amish folks work in the factories up north. I often wonder whether they like it or not.”

  Peter shuddered. “Work inside? Can’t imagine it. I don’t think it’s natural.”

  “According to our bishop, it ain’t,” she agreed with a soft laugh.

  “You’re right on that,” Peter agreed.

  He directed the horse down a county road to the north of Hollybrook. They hadn’t gone far when a shrill siren punctuated the air. Amy craned her neck to see if she could tell where it was coming from. Peter pulled up on the reins and then steered the horse into a wide patch at the side of the road. Ambulances and police cars could rile up a horse something fierce, and it could become dangerous.

  But the emergency vehicle didn’t come into sight.

  “It’s heading for the hospital, I think,” Peter commented.

  “Someone’s hurt,” Amy murmured. “Gott be with them.”

  “It gives me the shivers when I hear a siren. How about you?”

  Amy nodded. “It wasn’t that long ago that an ambulance took Mavis to the hospital. Remember that? She had that stroke.”

  “I remember. She’s doing some better now, though. It’s hard to imagine something like that happening.”

  “People get old,” Amy said, feeling suddenly melancholic. She shivered. “I hope whoever it is in that ambulance is all right.”

  “Come on,” Peter said, clicking his tongue at his horse. “Let’s get back out on the road.”

  Chapter Three

  The evening ride was pleasant. Peter regaled Amy with stories about his fishing exploits when he was a little boy. Amy laughed frequently, enjoying their time together. There was an ease about the evening that settled comfortably with her. She wondered what it would be like to be married to Peter. She didn’t feel a rush of excitement at the idea, but she did feel content.

  He was a good man, and he’d be a steady husband. As they neared her home, she took a deep breath. Was he going to say something? Surely, he saw how well they got on together. They passed the Lapp farm, and Amy felt a strange unease. She glanced at Peter out of the corner of her eye. Was it her imagination, or had the atmosphere gotten tense all of a sudden?

  But Peter seemed unaffected. He was still grinning after sharing the antics of their oldest goat. Amy smiled, too, but something was wrong. She was nervous, on edge. What was bothering her?

  Peter gazed at her in the growing shadows. “You okay, Amy?”

  She shivered again. “Jah. Why do you ask?” Did he feel it, too? The uneasiness like a black cloud looming?

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. You look worried. Or troubled.”

  So, he didn’t feel it.

  “Nee. I’m fine. Just a long day, I guess.”

  “Thank you for coming riding with me,” he said softly. “I had a right gut time.”

  She nodded. If he had such a good time with her, why didn’t he declare himself? What exactly was he waiting for?

  “I… Well, I…” he started.

  She looked at him, waiting. Her breath caught. Was this it? Was he going to say something? Her throat went dry.

  “Uh, I really enjoyed our time together,” he finally uttered, and she knew that wasn’t what he’d been about to say.

  Her shoulders slumped, but she kept her smile firmly in place. “Me, too.”

  He pulled the buggy over to the edge of her drive. “I’ll let you off here then. Gut night, Amy.”

  He leaned over her and for a mad moment, she thought he might kiss her cheek. She sucked in her breath, but he didn’t kiss her at all. He was merely reaching to open the door for her. She slid out onto the loose gravel at the side of the drive.

  “Gut night,” she said in response. And then she ran down the drive, not even watching him drive away.

  * * *

  The entire first floor of her house was lit. How odd. By now, there should only be a lantern lit in the front room. But light shone from every window. What was happening? She glanced over to the barn and saw that the buggy was hitched up. This wasn’t normal. Amy hadn’t even reached the front door before her father came bursting out onto the porch.

  “Amy!” he called, and she heard the panic in his voice.

  Her heart lurched. What was it? Was someone hurt? Had the ambulance been here? She ran to meet him.

  “What’s happened?” she cried. “Who’s hurt?”

  “Come. I’m taking you to the hospital.”

  By then, her mother had come out to the porch, too. Her face was stricken with dread.

  “Mamm!” Amy cried. “What is it? Who’s hurt?”

  “It’s … it’s Grace,” Fiona uttered, her hand to her mouth.

  “Grace?” Amy repeated. “Oh, she’s having her boppli. But, it’s early, ain’t so?”

  Her mother shook her head. She was crying.

  “Mamm, why are you crying?” Panic surged through her. “Someone tell me what’s happening?”

  Her father had left to get the buggy and now pulled up to the porch.

  “She’s had an accident,” Fiona said. “She’s fallen.”

  Amy stood, frozen. “Fallen? What do you mean?”

  “Get in!” her father called from the buggy.

  “I’m coming, too,” Fiona said, starting down the steps.

  “Nee. You stay here. The kinner won’t know where you’ve gone.”

  “But Doris is here. I want to come…”

  “Aenti Doris ain’t going to be no help. Let us go, Fiona. I’ll come back and get you if you need to be there.”

  Amy scrambled into the buggy. Fiona stood on the porch, in tears, and waved them off.

  “I heard an ambulance,” Amy forced the words out. “Was it for Grace?”

  Thomas Yoder nodded, his eyes intent on the road. The lights hanging from the corners of the buggy swayed as they turned onto the main road.

  “She fell from where? Is she all right?’

  “I don’t know. I heard it second hand. We need to get there. I was just waiting for you to get home.”

  That’s why, Amy thought. That’s why I felt so funny. Somehow, I knew Grace was in trouble. I knew.

  “Can’t you go faster, Dat? Please!”
<
br />   He looked at her. “It’s dark, Amy. I can’t go faster. You know that.”

  “Please, Dat.”

  “We’ll get there as fast as we can. It won’t help Grace none if we get in an accident, now, will it?”

  Amy tried to swallow past the lump of fear in her throat. Hurry. Hurry. Hurry.

  When they got into town, it seemed they hit every one of the few streetlights. Amy was ready to jump out of the buggy and run the rest of the way to the hospital. When her father finally pulled into the vast parking lot and drove to the area designated for horses and buggies, she felt ready to burst with fear.

  The buggy had hardly come to a stop when she jumped out.

  “Hold on, daughter,” Thomas admonished her. “We’ll go in together. Let me secure the reins.”

  She shifted her weight from foot to foot until her father joined her. Together, they walked into the hospital and were directed to the emergency room. There, Amy saw Andrew. His face was ashen, and fear radiated from him.

  “Andrew!” Amy cried and rushed across the room to where he stood. “What’s happened?”

  “She was up in the loft,” he said, his blue eyes swimming in tears. “She fell. She-she screamed.” He shuddered as if hearing the scream all over again.

  Amy grabbed his arm. “She’ll be all right,” she said, but the words nearly stuck in her throat. Be all right, be all right, be all right.

  “The boppli…” he said, and his voice ended in a desperate gasp for air.

  Thomas came over. “We’ve been praying, son,” he said.

  There were others there. The bishop, the Lapps, the Rabers. Everyone stood in a clump, all looking at Andrew with compassion and moist eyes.

  “Don’t we know anything yet?” Amy asked, forcing herself not to burst into tears.

  This was Grace, her best friend in all the world. Dear, dear Grace, whom she loved like a sister. And Grace’s baby.

  Gott. Gott. Gott. Let them both be all right.

  Andrew shook his head and a tear ran down his cheek. “I don’t know anything.”

  “You will soon,” Thomas said, putting his arm around Andrew. “These things take some time. But the doctors will help her. You’ll see.”

  Amy pressed her hand against her chest. She was having a hard time breathing. She tried to calm herself, slow her heart down, but it pounded relentlessly against her ribs. She didn’t feel good. Not at all. Fear had taken hold, and she could barely stand there. She backed away and pressed herself against the wall. Breathe. Breathe.

  She closed her eyes and prayed. Slowly, her heart slowed, and she could get air again. A feeling of warmth covered her. It seeped into her chest, ran down her arms. Cradled her.

  “Grace?” Amy whispered. “Are you here?”

  It was as if Grace were right there beside her, filling her, comforting her. Grace was right there in the emergency waiting room. Why wasn’t she with the doctors? Amy’s eyes flew open, completely expecting to see her friend standing there.

  But there was no one. Amy’s brow creased. But Grace had to be there, she could feel her. She looked around, confused. What was happening? She blinked hard and focused on Andrew. He was crying, and Amy’s father still had his arm around his shoulder.

  “Grace?” Amy whispered into the air again. “Grace?”

  And then she saw a man in a white coat come through the door at the end of the hallway. He walked with forced steps toward them.

  Amy peeled herself from the wall and hurried over, just as he stopped in front of Andrew. Amy stared at the man’s face, and her heart fell to her feet.

  “Nee!” she murmured. “Nee!”

  “I’m sorry,” he said gently to Andrew. “We did all we could to save her, but her internal injuries were too great.”

  Andrew’s eyes widened, and he shook his head over and over. “Nee. A-and the boppli?”

  “The baby? A little girl. She’s stable. She’s a bit early, but she’s holding her own. She’s going to be fine.”

  And with that, Andrew crumpled into Thomas Yoder’s arms.

  Chapter Four

  Andrew couldn’t get air. Couldn’t breathe. Something was pressing on his chest. He looked around in a daze. He was sitting in a chair and had no idea how he got there. People were around him. Too close. Breathing in his face. Amy. She was there, too. Grace’s best friend. But she looked terrible. She was crying, and her eyes were red and swollen.

  He gazed around at everyone’s faces. They were all crying. And then it blasted through him. The doctor. He’d just said Grace was dead. Dead. No. No. Andrew shook his head and stifled a moan. It couldn’t be true. He was dreaming. Yes. That was it. He was dreaming.

  “Do you want to see her?” Thomas asked him.

  Andrew blinked up at him. See her?

  “The doctor said you could. Do you want me to go in with you?”

  Andrew blinked again. Yes. He needed to see her. He blanched. See whom? Grace? His dear, dear Grace? Wait. His new baby daughter? Who did Thomas mean?

  Thomas was helping him up and together, they were walking toward that heavy swinging door. His feet felt like bales of hay, heavy, sluggish, not wanting to move properly. He was crying. He could feel the tears going down his cheeks. Everything was blurry. Thomas walked right beside him, and Andrew felt his strength.

  Andrew needed to be strong, too. Grace needed him now. He couldn’t fail her. He sucked in air so quickly, his gasp seared through the lungs. He’d already failed her. She’d tripped.

  He’d gone into the barn to hang the reins, and he’d seen her up there. On the loft. Why was she up there? What was she doing?

  “Grace!” he’d called up there, alarmed. “What are you doing? You shouldn’t be up there.”

  She’d smiled at him then, her warm engaging smile—one of the reasons he’d fallen in love with her. “Oh, I know. I won’t be but a minute. I was just—”

  And then, it had happened. She’d tripped. Tripped. He’d hollered and dropped the reins, racing to the loft ladder. But he was too late. She’d come tumbling over the edge of the loft, head over heels, screaming. Shrieking, and then a heavy thud. She’d landed at his feet, bent and twisted on the barn floor.

  He’d stared down at her, horrified.

  “Grace! Grace!” he’d cried, dropping to his knees at her side. “Open your eyes! Grace!” Her name was nearly a shriek on his lips. “Wake up, Grace!”

  He needed help. Fast. The phone shanty. But did he dare leave her?

  “Gott!” he hollered. “Gott, help me! Help Grace!”

  He’d leapt to his feet and raced from the barn, tearing down the road to the phone shanty. His hands shook so badly, he could hardly dial 911. And then, he barely managed to give his address before dropping the receiver and racing back to Grace.

  He burst through the barn doors. Grace hadn’t moved. The silence in the barn was deafening. He went to her and kissed her face over and over.

  “Wake up, Grace. Please, wake up.”

  He knew about artificial respiration. He knew to breathe into her mouth if she wasn’t breathing. He didn’t know if she was breathing or not. He held his finger under her nose and detected a tiny puff of breath. Thank God.

  “Keep breathing,” he begged her. “Keep breathing.”

  He kept his finger there, clasping to the hope that she was going to be all right.

  He smoothed her hair. Her kapp was askew. She wouldn’t like that. Grace was fussy about her kapp. He tried to straighten it for her, but his hands were shaking too badly. When the siren finally screamed to a halt in front of his barn, he jumped up and rushed out to direct them.

  Within minutes, Grace was on a stretcher and in the back of the ambulance. Andrew was with her, holding her limp hand, praying like he’d never prayed before. And then they’d arrived at the hospital, and everything was a frantic jumble in his mind. All he knew was that Grace was taken away, and he was left standing in the middle of the room, watching as his whole world disappeared beh
ind the double doors.

  And then his neighbors had come. Arriving slowing. Someone must have seen and heard the ambulance, for they kept trickling in, asking what had happened. Where was Grace? Was it the baby? What had gone wrong?

  And Andrew had answered their questions. Like a robot. But he couldn’t take his eyes off the double doors. He couldn’t concentrate on anything except those doors.

  And as he stared at the doors, he remembered. There was a loose board on the loft floor. He’d noticed it some weeks ago and had been meaning to fix it. But it had sunk far down on his to-do list. Was that why Grace had tripped?

  Because he hadn’t nailed down that loose board?

  The sudden realization raged through him, roaring through his ears. Was this all his fault? Was it? Was it? He’d wavered then, nearly losing his balance. And then Thomas had come. Thomas Yoder.

  Andrew had leaned on him…

  Just as he was doing now. They pressed through the double doors and walked a short way into the large room that was partitioned off by hanging curtains. A nurse gestured them forward and parted the light green curtain. It had a kind of design on it. Some balloons or something. Maybe flowers. What was it?

  Andrew tried to focus on it. Focus on anything but the form lying on the bed. But then he had to look. He nearly bit through his lip as he gazed down at his dear wife. His eyes filled with tears. Someone had taken off her kapp. Where was it? He looked around frantically. Where was Grace’s kapp? She wouldn’t like this. Wouldn’t like this at all. Her hair was showing to the whole world.

  “Her kapp,” he muttered, turning frantic. “Where’s her kapp? We have to cover her hair. She’ll be upset.”

  “It’s all right,” Thomas said gently. “It’s all right. I’ll find it. Don’t worry. I’ll find it.”

  And Thomas left. Andrew swallowed, standing alone now. Standing alone beside the body of his dead wife. He took a step forward and reached out to touch her cheek. It was still warm. Her body was covered with a sheet and her stomach had lost its girth. And then he remembered. A baby. They had a daughter. He looked around. Where was she? Where was his daughter?