by Amy Clipston
Sirens blared in the distance, wrenching him from his thoughts. Help was almost here! He exited the shop, somehow remembering to lock the door, and stepped onto the rock driveway.
Moments later the ambulance arrived, its flashing lights casting eerie red shadows on his two-story brick home. The diesel engine rattled a noisy medley.
Allen’s pulse pounded as he ran to the truck. Two EMTs leaped out of it.
“Please,” he begged them. “Please help my wife.”
Allen sipped from a water bottle as he walked down the long hallway toward Savilla’s hospital room. He cupped his hand to his mouth to shield a yawn as he weaved past a woman in scrubs. She was delivering lunch trays. He’d been awake for nearly ten hours now, and his eyes were gritty with exhaustion.
Despite his fatigue, the time had flown by at lightning speed. Savilla was awake and talking when the ambulance arrived, and Allen and Mollie rode to the hospital with her. The doctor said Savilla’s symptoms were similar to what he’d seen in other patients recently. She had the stomach flu, he said, and she’d passed out briefly only from dehydration.
While the medical staff treated Savilla with anti-nausea medicine and IVs for dehydration, Allen had tried to keep Mollie calm by walking her around the waiting area, thankful he’d remembered to grab the diaper bag Savilla always kept packed, as well as a bottle of formula from the refrigerator. Then Savilla’s parents arrived around eight, and after they visited their daughter, they took Mollie home.
The medical staff had decided an hour ago to release Savilla, and Allen had just called his driver to ask for a ride. He couldn’t wait to get his wife home. Perhaps Irma Mae would offer to stay and care for Mollie so he and Savilla could nap for a while. He longed to rest his weary eyes.
His shoulders tightened as he spotted a flurry of activity outside Savilla’s room. A group of nurses stood by the doorway, their faces etched with something that resembled sorrow. One nurse covered her face with her hands as another patted her back.
Allen picked up his pace, and his heart thudded. “What’s wrong?”
“Mr. Lambert,” one nurse began. “I’m so sorry.”
“What do you mean? Is something wrong with my wife?” He searched all their faces for answers.
Their doctor, a middle-aged man with a kind face, stepped out of the room, his head down. He looked startled when he realized Allen was there. “Mr. Lambert, may I please speak with you alone?” He gestured toward an empty room across the hallway.
“What’s going on?” Allen gripped his bottle of water so hard it crackled in protest. He craned his neck, trying to see past the doctor and into Savilla’s room.
The doctor hesitated.
“Just tell me,” Allen insisted.
“I’m sorry, but your wife has passed away.”
Allen froze as the words filtered through his mind. A choked sob sounded somewhere behind him. Had he heard the doctor correctly? “What did you say?”
The man rested his hand on Allen’s shoulder. “Your wife passed away.” His words were slow and deliberate.
Allen shook his head as it began to swim. “No, no. That can’t be pos—”
“Mr. Lambert.” The doctor leveled his gaze with Allen’s. “Please listen to me. She’s gone. We tried to save her, but we couldn’t. I’m so sorry.”
“Wha-what do you mean?” Allen’s voice sounded strange to his own ears, higher pitched and wobbly. “I was only gone twenty minutes. I called her parents to tell them she was coming home, and then I called my driver to ask for a ride.” His pulse pounded in his ears as he rambled on. “Then I went to buy a drink.” He held up the bottle. “She was fine. In fact, we were talking about our daughter just before I—”
“Listen to me. Mrs. Lambert passed away approximately ten minutes ago.”
“How is that possible?” Allen searched his eyes for any sign of a lie, but found none. “How could she have died? I had just spoken to her.” He started to sway as everything around him went blurry. He had to be dreaming. This couldn’t be real. None of this could be real.
“Her heart stopped.” The doctor’s words slammed into him.
“What?”
“I’m not a cardiologist, but I saw this with a patient a few years ago. It’s called lymphocytic myocarditis, and it’s extremely rare. To put it simply, an otherwise healthy person suddenly has heart failure caused by a virus.” The doctor kept talking, but his words were only background noise to Allen’s increasing disorientation.
Allen shook his head. None of this made sense. What was the doctor even saying?
“Your wife had flu-like symptoms, and the flu is a virus,” the doctor continued, his words warm and gentle despite their chilling effect. “The virus attacked her heart, and her heart’s immune response created the lymphocytic myocarditis condition. I’m so sorry, I didn’t think—”
“No, no, no.” Allen pushed past him and charged into the hospital room as he tried to swallow against the terror crawling up his throat.
Savilla lay still on the bed, and her golden hair seemed almost brassy against her white skin. Her eyes were closed, and she looked well, peaceful, even beautiful. She was only sleeping. The doctor was wrong. He just had to be.
“Savilla?” Allen’s voice came out in a strangled rasp. His body shook. “Savilla. Open your eyes, mei liewe.”
He touched her cheek. It felt cool. He touched her arm, finding its warmth waning as well.
Allen’s world tilted. The floor seemed to fall out from under him, and he nearly collapsed.
“Savilla. Please, open your eyes. Savilla. Don’t leave me! I need you. Mollie needs you. I can’t make it without you.” Allen choked on a sob. “Savilla! Savilla! Please. Oh, please God. Don’t take her.” Bending at the waist, he dissolved in tears as he rested his cheek on her chest.
“Mr. Lambert.” The doctor’s voice was close to his ear. “I’m so sorry.”
Allen closed his eyes and prayed he would wake up from this horrific nightmare.
TWO
Laura Riehl’s lungs seized with grief as she stood between her boyfriend, Rudy Swarey, and her twin brother, Mark. They were at the graveside service for her best friend, Savilla. She tried to take a deep breath, but it seemed an impossible task.
The sky above her was infused with dark, threatening clouds, mirroring her emotions on this tragic, sad day. The heavy aroma of moist earth wafted over her, and she shuddered as her gaze moved to the coffin that held Savilla’s body.
“Hold on, sis,” Mark whispered in her ear as he rubbed her shoulder. “It will be all right.”
“No,” she whispered, her voice a little louder than she’d expected. “Nothing will ever be all right again.”
Rudy covered her hand with his and gave it an encouraging squeeze. With her other hand she pulled a tissue from her coat pocket and wiped her nose and cheeks.
When her lower lip trembled, she took a shivery breath and willed herself to not cry. She’d cried so much during the past three days that she was surprised she had any tears left to shed.
She’d met Savilla, along with their mutual friend Priscilla Allgyer, on their very first day of school. The three of them became best friends, and they’d grown up together, sharing all their secrets and milestones like sisters. But then Priscilla unexpectedly left the community four years ago. Laura and Savilla had missed Priscilla terribly, but they still had each other. And now, in the blink of an eye, Savilla was gone, leaving behind a husband, a baby.
Another sob began to bubble up, and as if he could read her mind, Mark placed a hand on her arm.
“Shh,” he whispered under his breath. “Be strong for Allen and Mollie. They need us.”
Laura nodded and looked up at her twin’s warm blue eyes. He always knew when she needed his endless encouragement.
The minister read a prayer, and her heart broke for Allen, Savilla’s parents, and baby Mollie. Laura glanced at Allen’s face. It was contorted with grief as he stared down at the g
round, tears rolling down his cheeks and dripping onto his black coat. Irma Mae sobbed and hugged Mollie to her chest. Beside her, Milton wiped his eyes as he tightened his arm around his wife’s shoulders.
When the minister’s prayer ended, a murmur of conversations spread throughout the crowd. Laura began to make her way between the knots of mourners.
“Where are you going?” Rudy grabbed her arm and gently pulled her back.
“I need to talk to Allen.” Laura shook her arm from his grasp.
“We spoke to him earlier today.” Rudy’s dark eyebrows drew together.
“I want to make sure he’s okay.”
“I know, but we’ve been at his haus for the past two days helping him through this. It’s okay if we back off a little and let someone else help him now.”
Laura sighed. “I know, but Savilla was my best freind. I need to remind Allen that I’m here if he needs me. I can’t leave without talking to him again.”
“I’m sorry, but I have to go.” Rudy jammed his thumb toward the row of horses and buggies lining the cemetery. “I need to get back to mei dat’s store. I promised him I’d be back in time for his lunch break.”
Mark sidled up to Rudy. “You can go. I’ll make sure she gets home.”
Rudy divided a look between Laura and Mark and then gave Mark a curt nod. “Danki. I’ll see you both later.” Then he was swallowed up by the crowd as he left the cemetery.
“I don’t understand how he can go back to work without talking to Allen,” Laura muttered as Mark walked beside her. “I can’t even think about leaving without talking to him one more time.”
“Rudy is upset too. He just expresses his feelings differently than we do.” Mark nodded toward her destination. “Go on.”
Allen was shaking a church member’s hand as Irma Mae stood next to him, still holding Mollie. Laura stepped in front of Allen when the man walked away.
“Laura. Danki for being here.” Allen’s voice shook. Dark purple circles rimmed his bloodshot eyes, evidence he hadn’t slept in days. He cleared his throat and wiped tears from his face and beard with one hand. The pain and sorrow in his expression shattered her heart.
“Allen.” She took his cold hands in hers. She was aware the intimacy could be considered forward, but Allen was like a brother to her. Surely everyone would understand their connection. “If you need anything at all, please call me.”
“Danki. I—” A woman Laura didn’t know nearly knocked her out of the way.
“Allen!” the woman said. “Oh, Allen. I’m so sorry. Savilla was so very young. Only twenty-two years old, and a new mamm. And she was Irma Mae’s and Milton’s only kind. You all must be simply crushed.”
Allen winced at the words, and disgust rolled through Laura. She took a step toward the thoughtless woman and opened her mouth, ready to give her a piece of her mind.
As if he knew Laura was about to chastise the woman, Mark took her arm and steered her through the crowd. “Let’s go now, sis. We can head over to Allen’s haus and help serve the meal.”
“Did you hear what she said?” Laura seethed as she turned to glare at the woman. “How cruel and thoughtless can you be? Did you see Allen’s face?”
“Let it go,” Mark warned. “Sometimes people don’t think, and Allen doesn’t need you to cause any more tension around him.”
They walked in silence as they made their way across the cemetery.
“I can’t believe she’s gone,” Laura finally said. “We just lost Mamm a few months ago. Why did God have to take Savilla from me too?”
“You know it’s not our place to question God’s will.” Mark opened the passenger door of his buggy. He looked down the long line of horses and buggies and nodded. “Dat is riding back with Cindy, Jamie, and Kayla. They’re going to meet us at Allen’s and help serve the meal too.”
“Gut.” Laura waved to Dat, their younger sister, older brother, and their brother’s girlfriend.
As she climbed into Mark’s buggy, her new reality hit her. Life would never be the same without Savilla. But she’d find a way to not only keep Savilla’s memory alive, but be a support to Allen in any way he needed.
Savilla would do the same for her if circumstances were reversed.
Allen stared down at Mollie sleeping soundly in the baby swing in his family room. He scrubbed his hand down his face and beard and took a deep breath.
The days since the worst moment of his life had zipped by in a blur of tears, sorrow, and drowning anguish. His beautiful Savilla, the love of his life, was gone before he had a chance to say goodbye, and now he had to pick up the pieces of his life. The doctor told him the condition that killed her wasn’t genetic or hereditary. It had just happened to Savilla without warning. He made it sound so simple, but Allen only understood his wife was gone.
Just days ago, his life was perfect. He had his thriving business, his beautiful wife, and their lovely baby girl. Now he was alone with more heartache and confusion than he ever could have imagined.
For three days, members of his community had paraded through his house, leaving casseroles, words of condolences, and promises of prayers in their wake. But now his home—his and Savilla’s home—was silent. The only sound he heard was his heart shattering into a million pieces.
“I put whatever I could fit into the refrigerator.”
Allen spun to face Irma Mae. She was standing in the doorway to the kitchen.
“There’s still food on the counter. I don’t know what you want me to do with it.”
“Take it with you. I don’t feel like eating anyway.”
His mother-in-law stared at him.
“What?” he asked.
“I’d like to stay overnight so you can get some sleep.” She crossed the room to stand beside him. “I’ll feed Mollie Faith in the middle of the night so you can get up for work. I’m sure your buggy orders must be backed up by now.”
“That’s not necessary.” He jammed his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “I can afford to hire a nanny. I don’t expect you to take care of her.”
“Don’t be gegisch. She’s mei grossdochder.” She sniffed. “She’s all I have left of Savilla, and I want to be here.”
“Fine.” He swallowed against his bone-dry throat.
“Besides, only family should care for her. I insist. I’ve already told Milton I’m going to be here as much as you need me.”
“Danki.”
She stopped the swing, unbuckled Mollie, and lifted her into her arms. “I’ll get her ready for bed. You should go to bed too.” Then she headed up the stairs, holding Mollie against her chest.
As Irma Mae disappeared up the stairs, Allen sank onto the sofa and leaned his head back, smacking it on the wall as his thoughts roiled with a mixture of bereavement and despair. Today he’d put his beautiful wife into the cold, hard ground, but it seemed as if their life together had only just begun.
Tomorrow Allen would have to return to the business of life. How would he go on without her?
Closing his eyes, he began to pray.
God, please give me strength, because I don’t know how to go on. I don’t know how to be a daed to Mollie Faith, and I don’t know how to live without Savilla by my side. Help me, God. Guide me, please.
THREE
THE FOLLOWING SUMMER
Allen leaned against his current buggy project and sighed. He swiped his hand over his sweaty brow as the sweltering July humidity hung over his three-bay shop like a dense fog. Glancing at the clock on the wall, he found it was only ten in the morning. It felt as if he’d been working for eight hours, not two. The days seemed to drag ever since he’d lost . . .
Shoving the thought away, he pushed off the side of the buggy and strolled through his shop. He wiped his hands on a red rag and dropped it on top of one of his toolboxes before pulling down the large garage door. Then he walked up the rock path to his house. He had three more buggies to repair and another one to rebuild, but he needed a break. A glass of i
ce-cold water would hit the spot right now, and then he’d get back to work.
As he climbed the back-porch steps, he stilled and held his breath. He was certain he’d heard a voice, someone yelling. But only his mother-in-law and baby were in the house. Why would Irma Mae yell?
Unless something was wrong.
Panic, swift and hot, shoved him up the steps and through the door into the mudroom.
“Allen! Allen, please help me!” Irma Mae screamed his name from the kitchen. She sounded desperate.
Blood roared in his ears as memories of the night Savilla had wakened him with a frightened call suddenly haunted him.
“Mamm!” Allen rushed into the kitchen. Irma Mae lay in a heap on the floor next to a step stool, her leg at an odd angle and tears spilling down her reddened cheeks.
Beside her, his daughter wailed in her high chair, reaching for Irma Mae. Sweat had matted Mollie’s hair to her head, and her blue eyes sparkled as tears rolled down her cheeks. They were as bright red as Irma’s.
“Mamm!” Allen crouched beside her on the floor, his body trembling with concern for his mother-in-law. “What happened?”
Sweat beaded on her brow and dampened the graying blond hair barely visible from under her prayer covering. Her eyes, the honey-brown color she’d passed on to Savilla, were wide with panic. “I was just trying to get a large mixing bowl off the top shelf, and my foot slipped. Next thing I knew, I was on the floor. I should have just asked you to come in, but—”
Her loud sob set Mollie screaming even louder.
“It’s okay.” He started to reach for Irma Mae’s hand but then stopped, afraid of hurting her. “What hurts?”