She wasn’t surprised, though. It was hard to look aggravated when one’s heart was filled to bursting with love.
“Danke, Anton.”
“Anything for you, Mol.” Lowering his voice, he added, “You’re my favorite sibling, you know.”
“I know.” She smiled. He always told her that. And whether it was true or not, it always, always made her feel loved.
TWENTY
“ ‘We need to find a place to hunker down and wait for things to get better,’ Andy had announced. ‘Does anyone know where we can go?’ ”
Marie had been out of the hospital for twenty-four hours and was now settled back into her childhood room. That room, with its fairy princess four-poster bed, pink, cream, and light gray color schemes, and far too many pictures and awards from high school, sometimes felt way too confining. She wasn’t that girl anymore. And though she didn’t mind that she’d once been, she sometimes felt that her mother wished she still was.
Marie didn’t always get along with her mother. She often found her mother to be too intrusive, too worried about everyone else’s opinions, too loud, and too, well, everything.
But without a doubt, her mother would always be the world’s best “sick mom.” All her life, whenever she was under the weather her mother transformed into a patient, quiet, and attentive nurse. Mom didn’t have levels of care, either. No matter if she had two skinned knees when she was five, strep throat at fifteen, or had just survived a car accident at twenty-four, her mother was an equal-opportunity caregiver.
Case in point—from the time she and Dad had driven Marie back home, her mother had gotten her set up in her old room like she was visiting royalty. They’d brought in a flat-screen TV from her father’s study, put fresh, cool sheets on the bed, and had bought her a new fluffy robe.
Her mother had even put a pitcher of water, a jar of her favorite kind of crackers, and a plate of chocolate chip cookies on her nightstand. It was all heavenly.
She’d also left Marie alone quite a bit. Yesterday, she’d slept most of the day away. Today, however, she was finally feeling more like herself.
All that was why when her mother poked her head in the room, Marie waved her inside.
“Hi, Mom. Come on in.”
Her mother was dressed in one of her casual outfits, which meant she was wearing pressed khakis, designer loafers, and a light sweater. Her hair was pulled back from her face in a red leather headband, and she smelled like she always did, like jasmine and roses and Ivory soap. “How are you feeling?”
Marie could practically feel her mother’s gaze drift over her face and bare arms. Not wanting to lie, she shrugged. “Not great. Pretty sore.”
“I bet.” Walking over to the medicine bottles neatly lined up on the dresser, her mother eyed the directions, and her note of when Marie had last taken the painkillers. “Looks like you can have another dose in one hour. Can you wait that long?”
“Yeah. It’s not that bad.”
She turned around, hesitated, then perched on the edge of the light blue velvet chair near the window. “My cell phone’s been ringing off the hook. My Facebook page, too. Everyone is worried about you, Marie.”
Her mother’s love of social media was a mystery. Marie found it kind of cute and alarming at the same time.
Picking up her cell phone, Marie scanned her notifications. She’d placed it on silent and saw that she’d received quite a few text messages and three missed calls. “News travels fast around here, doesn’t it?”
“It does.” Mom sighed. “I haven’t called Kurt’s mother yet, but I heard that the kids from the other vehicle are all home now.” She paled. “Except for Evan, of course.”
“Poor Evan.”
She nodded. “I hate that our community has lost another child. He was even younger than Andy, too. I know the Lord never gives us more than we can handle, but this sure feels awfully hard.”
Marie felt the same way. “I haven’t allowed myself to think about it too much.” She shook her head, trying to form her thoughts more coherently. “I mean, not about Evan’s death, or even the accident.”
“I’m glad. You’ll have plenty of time to think about those things when you’re back on your feet. You need to rest as much as possible right now.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Do . . . do you think John will be stopping by today?”
“I’m not sure. I kind of doubt it. When we talked at the hospital, I told him that I was going to need some time to sleep and rest.” Thinking about how stunned he’d looked at the hospital, she added, “I know he’s going to have a difficult time with Evan’s death, too. I didn’t know the boy, but he did.”
“If he does stop by, do you want me to send him right in, or do you want me to check with you first?”
Ah, so that was where the conversation was going. “You can send him in if you’d like. Or check with me first. This is your house.”
“It might be just me and Dad who live here now, but it will always be your house, too. We’ll do whatever you want. Marie, are you and him close now?” She closed her eyes. “Sorry. I guess you can tell I’m flustered and don’t want to say the wrong thing. But, um, what I’m trying to ask is, are you two serious?”
And if she was serious about John, what were they going to do? “I think we’re getting that way, Mom. But we don’t have all the answers yet.”
“You know I like John. I like all of your friends here.” Her voice was tentative.
“But . . .”
“But, what do you think his family thinks? I’m not trying to be mean, but I can’t imagine that they would be too happy about the two of you becoming a couple.”
“I don’t know what they think.”
“John didn’t tell you?”
“I haven’t asked. I do know that they have six children, and they’re all pretty different. I have a feeling they are used to each child going their own way.”
Her mother nodded slowly. “I can see that happening. As much as Dad and I have wanted to worry about every little thing you do, we’ve learned to give you some space.”
Marie thought they were still learning that.
Realizing that they’d left out an important part of the conversation, Marie looked at her mother. “What do you think about me and John?”
“You already know I like him.”
Boy, her mother was trying so hard to be considerate and open! “Mom, what would you think if he and I became a couple?”
She stood up and folded a towel that Marie had left hanging on the back of a chair. “I think I came to terms with you having a mind of your own your senior year in high school, dear.”
“Oh, Mom. We aren’t going to rehash homecoming again, are we?” She’d gone to the dance with Parker Hawley, who’d been both very cool and very unsuitable—at least to Marie’s parents.
“Of course not,” she replied primly. “All I’m trying to say is that I learned a lesson back then about paying attention to your dreams and wishes instead of my own.”
Her mother had been over the moon about Marie being crowned homecoming queen. She? Not so much.
“After Andy’s death, dear, I learned something else. All that really matters is happiness. I want you to be happy. If you think that John Byler is the man you want to spend the rest of your life with, then I do, too.” She smiled. “Daddy feels the same way.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
She sat down beside her again. “Now, how about some soup or some ice cream?”
Those were her two favorite things. Again, she had the best sick mom ever. “What kind?”
“Homemade chicken and rice soup and strawberry ice cream from Graeters.”
Both were her favorites. “Can I have them both at the same time?”
“I think that’s a wonderful deal, Marie. I’ll bring them and some warm rolls in here, too. I’ll be right back.”
After she left, Marie leaned back on the pillows and thought about how far they’d
come. Back when she was fifteen, she would have never believed that life could be sweeter. But in a lot of ways it really was.
When her door opened again, Marie sat up. “Thanks, Mom.”
“You’re welcome,” Mom replied as she put the tray on Marie’s bedside table. “And look who I’ve brought with me.”
There was Katie Steury, dressed in a dark blue dress and black apron. As usual, her straight blond hair was neatly confined under her kapp. “Katie, hi!”
“Hiya back.”
“I’ll leave you two alone,” Mom said before walking back out the door.
Eyes wide, Katie walked in. “Boy, this room looks the same . . . and for some reason, better.”
She grinned. “I know, right? My mother still spoils me rotten.”
“Not rotten. Not yet.” Katie winked as she sat down.
“Thanks for coming, but you didn’t have to visit. You visited me at the hospital.”
Instead of shrugging off Marie’s thanks, Katie frowned. “Don’t say things like that.”
That took her off guard. “I’m sorry . . .” Her voice drifted off. She wasn’t exactly sure what she was apologizing about.
Katie exhaled. Loudly. “Marie, you are one of my best friends. Of course I’m going to visit you. I’m sorry I snapped at you. But sometimes, you just act like anything any of us does for you is surprising.”
She swallowed, hurt by the accusation. Even though it might have had a kernel of truth to it. “I don’t know what to say again.”
She waved a hand. “Never mind. This is my fault.” Looking troubled, she said, “I’ve had some things going on at home that have made me short-tempered. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”
“What happened?”
Katie pursed her lips, then murmured, “My mother decided to move to Kentucky. She left me the haus.”
Marie knew Katie had grown up in a pretty worn-down house. It was the opposite of what everyone thought of a well-run, neat-as-a-pin typical Amish home. She also knew that the house wasn’t the only thing that hadn’t run well in Katie’s life. Though Katie hated to talk about it, they’d all known that she wished things were different between her and her mother.
And, maybe sometimes that her parents were a lot different, too. “Do you want to talk about it?” She smiled. “I might be stuck in bed, but my ears work fine.”
Katie’s blue eyes cleared for a moment before being replaced by shadows. “Danke, but I ain’t ready to talk about it.”
“Okay.”
Gesturing at the tray she’d just brought in, Katie said, “How about we sit and eat instead?”
Marie grinned. There were two bowls of soup, a big plate of the warm rolls her mother had promised, and two dishes of ice cream, too. “You don’t mind soup and ice cream?”
“Your mother said she’s making grilled cheese squares, too. I might never leave.”
“You make grilled cheese sound like filet mignon.”
“You might yearn for fancy steak with French names, but I could eat your mother’s cooking every night, Marie.”
“Even grilled cheese squares.”
“She grills sourdough bread and Amish white cheddar and Swiss cheese on a cast iron pan and somehow makes little grill marks on them. They’re incredible.”
They really were. Of course, she usually asked her mother to not make her any because she always ate too many and they were fattening. But today, sitting beside Katie? Nothing sounded better. “You better take off your shoes then and climb up next to me. We can eat and talk and then even watch a movie.”
Katie slipped off her tennis shoes and scrambled up on the bed. After fluffing up a pillow and sprawling out next to her, Katie sighed.
“You look happy.”
“I am.” Looking around the room, Katie got a look of complete bliss on her face. “Oh, Marie. Soup, grilled cheese, ice cream, all to be consumed while sitting on this comfy bed? I am frayt, indeed. Why, I’m so happy right this minute, I may never leave.”
Marie chuckled as she took a spoonful of ice cream. And, for the first time in two days, finally allowed herself to relax.
TWENTY–ONE
“But of course we didn’t, I mean, we were all only fourteen, you know. We just stood there and stared at one another.” Looking at Marie, Katie said, “Since Andy never had been one for standing around, he decided to take things into his own hands. Erm. Or, rather, Marie.”
“Didn’t expect to see you here today,” Will told John on Tuesday while he set his lunch cooler on the linoleum floor near his locker at work. “Are you feeling all right?”
“Well enough. Why?”
Will pressed two fingers against his cheek. “You got a good-size bruise there. It looks pretty sore.”
John shrugged. “I’m good and banged up, that’s for sure. But other than feeling stiff and tired, I’m good enough. Good enough to work.”
“I’m sure Mr. Kerrigan wouldn’t have minded if you stayed home for a few days.”
“There was no need.” His injuries weren’t as bad as Marie’s. Still thinking about her concussion and hurt ribs, he frowned. He really wished they had parted in a better way.
As if Will read his mind, he said, “How’s Marie? Did she let you go by and see her yesterday?”
“Nee. I even talked to her father on the phone. He said he didn’t know what was going on with her, but she wasn’t wanting to have people over. So far she’s only let Katie see her.” He didn’t even try to conceal his disappointment. Of course, he’d known exactly what she was upset about. Him, and his need to talk to her about forgiveness and compassion while she was still in a hospital bed.
Now, thinking back on it, he wished he hadn’t sounded so sanctimonious. He’d meant everything he’d said, but there was a time and a place for everything, and arguing with her while she was just recovering from the accident hadn’t been it.
Pulling out the work order waiting for him, Will skimmed it. “I talked to Elizabeth Anne and Harley. We’re going to go by and see her tonight. Maybe she’ll be up for visitors. We can only try, ain’t so?”
John nodded. “I hope the visit goes well.”
“Do you want to come with us? Maybe if Marie sees you in person, she’ll want to talk to ya.”
He shook his head slowly. “I said some things that upset her. I don’t think she wants to see me right now.”
“Uh-oh. What did you do?”
“Nothing I care to talk about right now.”
Will didn’t move. “Are you sure?”
Pulling out the plans for the art design he’d been working on, John said, “Very sure. I need to go show Mr. Kerrigan what I’ve come up with.”
Will grinned. “You already came up with the design? Come on, let me see it.”
Eager to get some feedback, John carefully unrolled the drawing paper and smoothed it out on their lunch table. “What do you think?” He was right proud of the design. It was a combination of desert silhouettes and sunset. He thought it would be perfect for the new owners and would look nice rolling down the highway.
Will whistled low. “John, this is a work of art.”
“Well, jah.” He winked. It was his work of art, after all.
“Nee, I mean it.” Smoothing a hand over the top of the paper, he continued, “I think it could be in an art gallery or something. It is that good.”
“You really mean it?” It wasn’t until right that minute that he realized he wanted this design to help him to achieve his goals of being a real designer for the company.
“I wouldn’t lie about this.”
“Danke. I’m pleased with it. I thought it would convey what the customer wanted without making everyone who saw it need sunglasses.”
“How do you plan to paint it?”
“In stages. I’m going to stencil in the design and then work on it in layers.” Already picturing the finished product, he added, “I think it’s going to give some dimension to it, too.”
Will blew
out a breath of air. “It’s gonna be something to be proud of, John.”
“I hope Mr. Kerrigan and our customer feel the same way.” He already did feel mighty proud of it.
Will slapped him on the back. “I’ll see you in the garage. While you are imagining sunsets and coyotes, I’m going to be contorting myself while I install hardware.”
John was tempted to roll his eyes. If he knew anything, it was that only by all of the employees working together could they produce something of worth. Each of their jobs—from the designers, to the assembly line workers, to the men and women who prepped the parts to be installed, to the women who kept the space spotless—had a vital job to do. Mr. Kerrigan told all of them this all the time.
After Will walked out, John rolled up his paper and knocked on his boss’s door.
Mr. Kerrigan was bent over his desk and staring at several work orders. “Hey, John. Good morning.”
“Good morning. I brought my design to show you.”
“I’m looking forward to seeing it. Have a seat.”
John sat down, eager to share his work but when he placed the rolled paper on his boss’s desk, the other man placed a hand on the top, preventing John from opening it. “Before we talk business, I want to know how you are doing. How are you feeling? Do you need anything? I’ve been concerned.”
“Concerned about me?”
Mr. Kerrigan’s gray eyebrows snapped together. “Come, now. I know we don’t often see each other outside of work, but I heard about your car accident.” He pointed to a list of notes on an index card. “I was going to leave a message on your phone to see how you were doing.”
“I’m a little stiff and sore, but well enough.”
Instead of smiling, his boss looked even more concerned. “I see the bruise on your face. Should you even be thinking about working today?”
“I wanted to give it a try. If it gets to be too much, I’ll let you know.”
Instead of looking satisfied with his answers, his boss still hesitated. “I heard you were with your girlfriend when you got in the accident. Is that true?”
The Patient One Page 14
