Old Mae held one of Berta’s hands in hers, and she was rubbing it gently. Working her own old twisted fingers as she massaged Berta’s limp ones.
“Here,” Old Mae said, standing. “You sit here, right beside your mamm. You can massage her hand. It feels gut and even though she won’t communicate it, she’ll feel it and enjoy the closeness with you.”
Robert perched on the edge of his mother’s bed and took her hand in his. It was so limp, so frail, so lifeless that he nearly burst into tears. This hand—his mother’s hand—had soothed his brow many, many times. Whenever he had a fever, her cool, strong hand, touched his forehead with love. Whenever he fell down and skinned his knees, his mother’s hand had cleaned and bandaged his wounds. This same capable, skilled hand had prepared thousands of meals for him, canned hundreds of jars of produce, and sewn shirt after shirt for him.
And now, it was finished. His mother’s hands would rest now.
A tear fell from his eye and rolled down his stubbly face. He hadn’t even bothered to shave that day. Had he shaved the day before? He couldn’t even remember.
“Here it is,” Lindy said softly as she came back into the room.
“I’ll take it,” Old Mae said, taking the cup of tea from her.
Lindy went to stand at the end of the bed. Robert looked at her and saw her grief. Hiring Lindy to care for Berta was the best thing he and Reuben had ever done. Robert had grown to depend on her—not only for his mother’s care, but for his own, in a way. Having her around grounded him and had allowed him to go through this time with some semblance of normalcy. Some bit of happiness.
He knew Lindy had made a world of difference for his mother. And he would be forever grateful—forever in Lindy’s debt.
“I’ll set the tea here,” Old Mae said, setting the cup on the bedside table. “It doesn’t have to be hot to soothe her. Perhaps, she won’t need it.”
Old Mae was studying Berta’s face.
“She looks right comfortable,” she commented.
“I hope so,” Lindy breathed.
And their vigil began. An hour or so later, Robert mentioned that perhaps the bishop should be fetched, but none of them wanted to leave. No one said so, but it was understood. Once, Berta shifted slightly in bed, and the three of them came alive, leaning forward intently. But she settled again, and they all relaxed.
The hours passed slowly. Robert became aware of every tick of the grandfather clock as time passed. Finally, he said to Old Mae, “Shall I take you home? You must have other things that need doing.”
Old Mae tilted her head and gazed at him. “Berta is an old friend,” she said. “There ain’t nothing I’d rather be doing right now. I’m right where I belong.”
Robert gave her an appreciative smile. Old Mae was a comforting presence; she always was. Having her around put life right-side-up, no matter what was happening. Just watching her sit and wait and pat Berta’s leg every now and again brought him immense comfort.
Robert glanced at Lindy. Her eyes were on him and their gazes locked. He read the grief in her eyes; he read her compassion for him; he read her yearning to somehow help his mother. But Berta was beyond helping now. It was simply waiting.
Waiting was all they could do.
At nearly five o’clock, when Lindy had gotten up to fix them something to eat, it happened. Berta’s eyes opened. Robert and Old Mae and Lindy all leaned toward her.
“Mamm?” Robert said.
* * *
Reuben was annoyed. He had no idea the bus would stop at every single nothing town between Ohio and Indiana. He kept looking at the clock on his cell phone, watching the hours tick away. At this rate, he could have walked home more quickly. His seat mate had changed three times since he’d started out.
By the time the bus had stopped in Indianapolis and then gone further toward Hollybrook, Reuben was ready to holler out his frustration. But there was one thing he’d learned well as an Amish man—to keep his angst to himself.
Still, it was good that the bus had paused in Indianapolis: it had been long enough for him to change into his Amish clothes.
Two hours later, it was with tight lips that he was finally, finally, finally was left off at in the sorry-looking motel parking lot that served as the bus station in Hollybrook, Indiana. He took a deep breath and looked around. Hollybrook. He was back.
Of course, Robert wasn’t there to pick him up; he hadn’t even known for sure Reuben was coming that day. He could have guessed, though, considering what Reuben had told him. Even though Reuben knew it was silly, he’d halfway hoped that Robert would have simply known he was on that bus and been there for him.
The funny thing was, there was a day when that would have happened. It was uncanny how he and Robert simply knew things about each other. Could finish each other’s sentences. Anticipate each other’s actions. Know each other’s thoughts. But not so much anymore.
Reuben sighed and took out his cell phone once more. He got on a transportation app and arranged for a car to come get him and take him to the farm. He supposed he could have walked the miles, but his trip had already taken long enough.
Within minutes, the car arrived. When the driver saw that he was Amish, he downright ogled him. Not too surprising since this Amish man had used a cell phone to call for his service.
Reuben got into the car. “Afternoon,” he muttered.
“Afternoon,” the driver said. He pointed to his phone that was mounted on his dashboard. “This the place?”
Reuben glanced at the address of his family farm. “Jah.”
“Okay,” the driver replied and said not one more word until he pulled into the driveway. “Here you are.”
The app would take the payment from the one credit card that Reuben had. In truth, Reuben was stunned that the credit card had been approved. He had no financial history in the Englisch world. But when he’d moved into his apartment, he’d gotten solicitation after solicitation for credit cards, and it hadn’t been as difficult as he’d thought.
Reuben climbed out of the car and the driver took off so smoothly that Reuben was hardly aware that he’d gone. He stared at his home, expecting it to have changed since he’d left. After all, he certainly wasn’t the same person. But it looked as it always had. Large, white, tidy, and welcoming.
But there was no one about. He’d expected to see Robert messing about in the barn, doing the afternoon chores out there. But it was silent. Not even the chickens were making noise. Nor the cow. Odd. It was almost as if the place were deserted.
* * *
“Mamm?” Robert said again, gripping her hand.
“Robert,” Berta murmured. She gave him a smile.
Robert sucked in his breath. Why, she looked more awake than she’d been for days. There was even some color in her cheeks. His heart leapt with joy.
“Jah, Mamm, it’s me.”
Lindy had gone to her other side of the bed and taken Berta’s other hand.
“Ach, Berta, you gave us a scare,” she said softly, smiling at Berta through her tears.
“No need for fear,” Berta said. “Old Mae? You’re here? How nice.”
“You’re doing fine, Berta,” Old Mae said. “And where else would I be, dear friend?”
Berta smiled, her chapped lips spreading into a warm smile.
“Robert, you’re a gut boy,” Berta said, looking back at him. “I know I ain’t said it much, but I love you.”
Robert’s throat tightened. “I love you, too, Mamm.”
She gazed at Lindy. “And you,” she said. “I love you, too.” She gave a weak chuckle. “You mind what I told you…”
Lindy’s face flamed instantly red, and Robert knew how embarrassed she was. Her eyes flicked to him and then back to Berta. Of course, his mother was referring to Lindy marrying him. Goodness, but what a thing to remind her of when he was sitting right there. He’d have to talk to his mother about it later.
“I’ll… I’ll remember,” Lindy finally got out. S
he looked decidedly uncomfortable.
“Are you hungry?” Robert asked. “I’ll get something for you.”
“Nee,” Lindy interrupted. “I can get something.”
But Berta shook her head. “Not hungry. Just want to be here with you.” She got a faraway look in her eyes and tears fell down her cheeks. “Ach. Reuben. You’re here.”
Robert tensed. “Nee, Mamm, he’s…”
But to Robert’s stunned disbelief, his brother stepped to the bed. “Jah, Mamm, here I am.”
Robert jolted from the bed. “Reuben?”
But Reuben was focused solely on his mother. He took Robert’s place beside her. “Hello, Mamm,” he whispered.
Berta smiled and tears coursed down her cheeks. “B-both my boys,” she murmured. She glanced at Lindy. “Lindy…”
“Jah, Berta. I’m here, too.”
Berta focused again on Reuben and then on Robert. The love in her eyes was so overpowering, Robert couldn’t breathe. And then Berta closed her eyes.
“Mamm?” Robert said, panic in his voice.
“She’s sleeping,” Old Mae told him.
Lindy stirred and asked Old Mae. “She’s better, ain’t so? She acted real lucid right then.”
Old Mae gave her a gentle look, a sorry look. “It happens,” she spoke quietly. “She won’t dally long.”
Robert’s heart lurched. “But Lindy’s right. She was real lucid.”
Old Mae only shook her head.
Reuben stood up and Robert noticed he was shaking. Looking about to fall over. He grabbed his brother’s arm. “You came.”
“I told you I would.” His voice was hoarse, throaty, and Robert knew he was holding back tears.
“Get your brother something to eat,” Old Mae said. She looked at Lindy. “Make some tea, child.”
Lindy was staring at Reuben, and Robert winced. He tried to read her look, tried to discern what she was feeling, but he didn’t have time. She had darted from the room as if she couldn’t get out of there fast enough.
Chapter Fourteen
He came, he came, he came, Lindy thought as she hurried toward the kitchen. She could hardly believe it. At first, she was sure he was a mirage, something Berta had conjured up, and they all could see it. But when he spoke, it was real enough. His voice was so like Robert’s, but hearing the shock and the regret in his tone was not the same. It was full of pain—thick and consuming.
Her hands shook as she worked to prepare the tea. She was afraid she would drop the mugs as she took them from the shelf. She heard footsteps behind her.
“Robert?” she said and whirled around.
Reuben stood there, facing her. “Nee,” he said. “It’s me.”
She swallowed and didn’t move.
“Hello, Lindy.”
She blinked at him, and for the life of her, she couldn’t say a word. He stepped closer.
“I didn’t know,” he said, and his expression turned ragged. “I didn’t know she was so bad.”
“But you did,” Lindy cried, her voice now returning in full force. “I told you. Robert told you. You knew.”
Reuben winced as if struck. “I-I didn’t.”
“Then you are deaf.” Emotion broiled through her, sudden anger gripping her with steel hands. “Or so incredibly self-centered, you chose not to hear us.”
Reuben’s mouth was open, and he stared at her. Her anger left as suddenly as it had come. Berta was in there dying, and here she was, yelling at Reuben. No. She wouldn’t do it. Berta deserved better.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said, forcing herself to calm down. “You’re here now. Berta was able to see you before she dies.”
Reuben crossed the kitchen in two steps and grabbed Lindy’s arms. “She won’t die. You heard her talking. I don’t care what Old Mae said. She’s getting stronger. You heard her, Lindy.”
Lindy’s eyes blurred with tears. “Nee,” she whispered. “Old Mae is right. You haven’t been here. You don’t know. She’s dying.”
“Nee.” Reuben dropped her arms and simply stood there, his eyes pleading with her. “Nee.”
“I’m sorry, Reuben. Truly, I am.” She swallowed and then brushed her tears away. “But you’re here now. Go back to her. I’ll bring in the tea.”
“But…” He looked lost. Lost and alone. Lindy’s heart twisted with pity.
“Go on,” she urged. “Go back in there.”
“Lindy?”
“Go,” she said, more strongly now. “I’ll be in with tea in a few minutes.”
He gave her one last pitiful look and then stumbled from the kitchen. Lindy watched him go, her thoughts in chaos. It was unsettling to see him. Unsettling to see him in such pain. Every instinct in her wanted to comfort him, but she couldn’t. She wouldn’t.
He was not part of them now. Not anymore. He’d gone Englisch, and she could not forget that. She could not step back into the past with him.
She wouldn’t do it. She drew in a long shaky breath. In truth, she wasn’t sure she even wanted to. Seeing him was a shock. But he wasn’t who she’d thought he was.
“Lindy?”
She looked up to see Robert standing in the doorframe. “Jah?”
“I’m… I’m to get Reuben something to eat. Old Mae told me.”
She smiled. “I heard her. Don’t worry. I will put a meal together. Go back with your mamm.”
“She’s asleep.” He came into the room. “Lindy?”
“Jah?”
“I-I don’t think she’ll wake up again.” He strangled back a sob, but she heard it.
She moved to him and without thinking, she took his hand. “I don’t think so either.”
They stood looking at each other, and she saw the same grief and sorrow in his eyes that she knew were reflected in her own. And then he gazed down at her hand in his, and she let go.
“It’s going to be all right,” she murmured.
He nodded. “I know. It’s going to be all right.”
“She’ll be at peace now.” Lindy bit her bottom lip and then said, “And she’s happy, Robert. She has both her boys here now.”
He sucked in a huge breath of air and nodded again. “He came, Lindy.”
“He did.”
“Are you glad?”
She looked deeply into his eyes and sensed the double-meaning of his question. He was nervous; she saw a muscle twitch at the corner of his eye.
“I’m beyond glad for Berta,” she said clearly.
“And…?”
“For Berta,” she repeated. “Beyond glad for Berta.”
He blinked. His lips trembled, and he ran his hand over his stubbly chin. “I-I…”
“Go on back,” she urged. “Sit with your mamm. I’ll call you when the meal is ready.”
But when Robert left the kitchen, Lindy didn’t hurry to fix the meal. She sat down at the kitchen table and folded her hands together. She needed a moment. Needed to stop and breathe and think.
Her life had revolved around Berta for a good while now, and it was coming to an end. An end she wasn’t ready for—not really. She would be happy to care for Berta for a good while longer, but it was not to be. She had no idea when Berta would draw her last breath, but it couldn’t be too far away.
She would keep vigil until it happened. She belonged by Berta’s side, and nothing was going to interfere with that. Not even her discomfort around Reuben.
She was glad he was back, but not in the way Robert had implied. She was glad he was back for Berta’s sake and also for Robert’s sake. Robert had suffered without his brother there; whether Robert would phrase it that way or not. And perhaps, being back would be helpful to Reuben somehow.
She held no illusions for herself in that regard. It was over between them. In truth, her heart no longer belonged to Reuben.
She feared it belonged to Robert.
Something that she also held no illusions about. She could never, would never betray her sister like that. Her own feelings didn’t take p
recedence over her loyalty to Rachel. She closed her eyes and sighed. Sometimes, she thought Robert liked her in that way, but if he did, he also held back. Perhaps not as much as he should, but there was a barrier between them.
As well there should be.
Rachel was crazy about Robert, and that was the way it was. And rightly so. Robert was wonderful—kind, caring, and loving. A true family man. He was everything a girl would want in a beau. But he wasn’t available to her. He could never be her beau. He was Rachel’s. Robert was out of bounds. And she would learn to live with that. She had to. She felt no bitterness at the thought. No jealousy even, which to be honest, surprised her. Shocked her, really. But she was grateful.
Her future lay somewhere else. Somewhere away from the Mast farm. And the Mast twins. She would find her place. She held a deep knowing that she would find it. But first, there was Berta. And Lindy wanted to see her have a peaceful ending. A gentle leaving of this world.
She would do everything she could to secure that.
She stood up then, squared her shoulders and walked to the fridge. She pulled out some left-overs and took out the pitcher of fresh milk. She busied herself with an odd sense of comfort and peace. God was with her. He was with them all, and most especially, He was with Berta.
She had told Robert that everything was going to be all right, and it was. She wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, and she supposed she didn’t have to be sure. She simply had to trust.
In God. And in herself.
She smiled—surprised she could smile at a time like this. But there it was. A real smile. Bittersweet, perhaps, but still, a smile…
And then she reached for the plates. She could have supper on the table right quick now. Everyone would feel better after they ate.
The End
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The Deception (Lindy's Story Book 2) Page 7