Why would God allow this to happen to an innocent young child? Miriam fumed as she clenched her fingers tightly. “I’m so sorry,” she said, nodding at Andrew and Sarah. “If I just hadn’t allowed Rebekah to wait outside for me. If only—” Her voice broke, and she bolted from the room.
As Miriam made her way down the hospital corridor, she was reminded of that terrible night she had fled the hospital after learning that Papa was dead. When she’d opened the door that led to the street, she half expected to see Nick standing on the other side, but he wasn’t there this time to offer words of comfort and a listening ear. Suddenly, she remembered the last words he’d spoken to her. “If there’s ever anything I can do to help you or your family, feel free to call my office at the newspaper.”
Should I call? she wondered. Should I be turning to an outsider for comfort and support?
As Miriam turned the corner and headed for the telephone booth at the end of the block, she was relieved that the storm had subsided. She stepped inside and dialed the number of the Daily Express, but her fingers trembled so badly she feared she might be hitting the wrong buttons.
“Hello. May I speak to Nick McCormick?” she asked when a woman’s voice came on the phone. “He’s a reporter at your newspaper.”
“One moment, please.”
Miriam held her breath and waited anxiously. At least she had reached the newspaper office and hadn’t dialed the wrong number.
“This is Nick McCormick. How may I help you?” she heard Nick say a few seconds later.
“It–it’s Miriam Stoltzfus. You said I should call if I ever needed anything.”
“Sure did, and it’s good to hear from you again. What can I do to help?”
Miriam pressed the palm of her hand against the side of her pounding temple. She hoped she wasn’t about to be sick. “I. . .uh. . .need to talk. Can we meet somewhere?”
“Where are you now?”
“About a block from Lancaster General Hospital.”
“The hospital? Are you all right?”
“It’s not me. It’s my—” Miriam’s voice broke, and she couldn’t go on.
“Miriam, whatever’s happened, I’m so sorry,” Nick said in a reassuring tone. “Remember the little café where we had coffee a few months ago?”
“I remember.”
“Meet me there in fifteen minutes. You can tell me about it then.”
Miriam found the café to be full of people when she arrived a short time later. A quick look at the clock on the far wall told her it was the dinner hour. Her eyes sought out an empty booth, but there was none. She stood feeling nervous and self-conscious, as everyone seemed to be looking at her. Was it the fact that she was wearing Plain clothes that made them stare, or was it her red face and swollen eyes?
“May I help you, miss?” the man behind the counter asked.
“I’m. . .uh. . .supposed to meet someone here, and we need a table for two.”
“The tables and booths are all filled, but you can take a seat on one of the stools here at the counter, if you’d like.”
Not knowing what else to do, Miriam took a seat as the man suggested and studied the menu he’d handed her. Nothing appealed. How could she have an appetite for food when her niece was lying in the hospital, unconscious, with the prospect of being crippled for the rest of her life? Rebekah was such a sweet child, easy to teach and always agreeable; she didn’t deserve such a fate.
Miriam gritted her teeth and clenched her fingers around the menu so tightly that her knuckles turned white. I should never have let Rebekah go outside without me when I knew a storm was brewing.
A firm hand touched Miriam’s shoulder, and she turned her head. “Nick! How did you get here so quickly?”
Nick lifted his arm and pointed to his watch. “It’s been over thirty minutes since we talked, and I told you I’d be here in fifteen. So I’m actually late, fair lady, and I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.” He looked around. “It’s sure crowded in here. Was this the only seat you could find? It won’t give us much privacy, you know.”
“I’ve been waiting for one of the booths, but no one seems in much of a hurry to leave.”
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
Miriam shook her head, one quick shake, and then another. “I could use something to drink, though, and maybe some aspirin.” She rubbed the pulsating spot on her forehead and grimaced.
“Headache?”
She nodded. “I get bad migraines whenever I’m under too much stress, and I don’t have any white willow bark herb capsules with me right now. They usually help.”
“I’ll get you some iced tea to go,” Nick offered. “I’ve got a bottle of aspirin in the glove box of my car. How about if we go for a ride? We can talk better if we have some privacy, and I don’t think we’ll get any in here.”
“I—I suppose it would be all right,” Miriam said hesitantly. “But I shouldn’t be gone too long. I left my brother and his wife at the hospital, and I didn’t tell them where I was going or when I would return. They’ve got enough on their minds right now, and I don’t want them to worry about me.”
“I promise not to keep you out past midnight.” Nick smiled and gave her a quick wink before turning to the waitress and ordering an iced tea to go.
Heat rushed to Miriam’s face, and she tried to hide it by hurrying toward the door. She wasn’t used to having a man flirt with her the way Nick did, and whenever he flashed her that grin, she felt as if her insides had turned to mush. Maybe he didn’t mean anything by it. It might have been just a friendly gesture or his way of trying to get Miriam to relax.
She walked silently beside him across the parking lot until they came to a small, sporty-looking vehicle. He opened the door on the passenger’s side and helped her in.
Miriam could smell the aroma of new leather as she slid into the soft seat. “You have a nice car,” she commented after he’d taken his seat on the driver’s side.
“Thanks. It’ll be even nicer once it’s paid for.” Nick reached across Miriam and opened the glove box. He pulled out a small bottle of aspirin and handed it to her. “Here, take a couple of these.”
“Thank you.” As soon as Miriam had swallowed the pills with the iced tea Nick had purchased for her, he turned on the ignition and pulled away from the curb.
“Do you want to tell me what’s bothering you now, or would you rather ride around for a while and try to relax and get rid of that headache?”
Miriam clutched the side of her seat with one hand while hanging on to her tea with the other. “Going at this speed, I’m not sure I can think well enough to speak, much less relax.”
“How about if I pull over at the park so you can sit and relax while you tell me what’s happened?”
“That—that would be fine, I suppose.” Miriam pulled nervously on the ties of her kapp, where they dangled under her chin. Being alone with Nick made her feel a bit uneasy, since he had such an unsettling way about him. The strange way he kept looking at her stirred something deep within, too, and it made her feel giddy—like she used to feel when she and William had been courting.
Maybe it’s just the shock of being told the extent of Rebekah’s injuries that has me feeling so quivery, she told herself. I’m sure I’ll calm down once the aspirin takes effect and my headache eases.
I
Thinking he might be able to read Miriam’s thoughts, Nick glanced over at her and said, “Don’t worry. You’re safe with me. No harm will come to you, because you’re a fair lady, and I’m your knight in shining armor.”
Her cheeks flamed, but she silently turned her head toward the window.
Nick figured she probably needed some time to let the aspirin take effect and realize that he wasn’t planning to take advantage of her. When they pulled into a parking place at the city park a short time later, he rolled down the window to let in some fresh air.
“Thanks for taking the time to meet me,” she said. “I’m sure you’re a busy man.
”
He shrugged. “I was about to call it a day anyhow. So, tell me what’s happened. Why were you at the hospital again?”
“It is my niece Rebekah. She’s been seriously injured, and I’m afraid it’s my fault.”
“What happened?” Nick asked as he reached for the notepad he kept tucked inside his window visor.
Miriam seemed to barely notice that he’d taken a pen from his pocket and was prepared to take notes as she continued her story.
“The storm was just beginning when my students headed for home. I told my niece I would give her a ride, and she asked if she could wait outside for me.” She drew in a quick breath. “I asked her to get into the buggy and said I would be there soon, but I never thought about the fact that I’d parked my buggy under a tree this morning.” She paused for another breath. “Then I heard this terrible snapping sound followed by a scream. I rushed outside and found Rebekah on the ground with a heavy branch lying across her back.”
“A branch broke and fell on the child?”
She nodded, as tears pooled in her eyes.
“What happened next?”
Miriam sat up straight and blinked a couple of times as she pointed to his notebook. “You–you’re writing this down?”
He nodded. “Please go on. It’s a newsworthy item, and I think—”
“I will not go on! I didn’t ask you to meet me so you could write a story for your newspaper. When you offered to help before, I thought that included a listening ear.”
“I have been listening. The thing is, reporting the news is what I do, so—”
“I think you’d better take me back to the hospital now. I can see what a mistake this has been. I should never have phoned or asked you to meet me.”
“Don’t get into such a huff.” Nick placed the notebook on the seat and returned the pen to his shirt pocket. “I won’t write down another thing, Miriam. I didn’t think you were going to get so riled up about this. I’m a reporter, so it was only natural for me to take notes on something that seemed like a good story. I’m sorry if I’ve offended you.”
Miriam stared at her hands, clenched tightly in her lap. “I’m not sure I believe you. Maybe you’re not the one I should be talking to right now.”
“Of course I am.” He slipped his arm across Miriam’s shoulder, thinking a quick hug might let her know he was sincere. “I’d like to be your friend, Miriam, if you’ll let me.”
Her lower lip quivered, and when he wrapped both of his arms around her, he felt hot tears against his cheek. “I—I appreciate that,” she murmured, “because a friend is exactly what I need right now.”
I
Amos sat at the kitchen table, watching Mary Ellen eat her bowl of vegetable soup while he struggled to eat his own. He had no appetite for food and dreaded having to tell his daughter about her friend’s accident. But he knew she would learn about it when she went to school tomorrow, and he didn’t want her to find out that way.
He cleared his throat a couple of times, searching for the right words. “There’s. . .uh. . .something I need to tell you, Mary Ellen.”
She placed her spoon on the table and stared at him with a quizzical expression. “What is it, Pappy? How come you look so bedauerlich?”
“I’m feeling a bit sad because one of your friends from school is in the hospital.”
Her eyebrows lifted high on her forehead. “Who’s in the hospital?”
“Rebekah Stoltzfus.”
“How come? Is she sick?”
He shook his head. “After school let out and you and the rest of the kinner had already gone, Rebekah was hit by a tree limb while she waited for Miriam to give her a ride home.”
The creases in Mary Ellen’s forehead deepened. “Was Rebekah hurt bad? Is—is she gonna be okay?”
Amos groaned inwardly as he pictured Rebekah’s still, small frame lying on the ground with a heavy limb pinning her down. He’d seen blood on her head and knew that wasn’t good. How he wished he could think of something to tell Mary Ellen that might offer hope that her friend would be all right. But the truth was, it didn’t look good for Rebekah Stoltzfus, and he feared she might not make it.
“Pappy?” Mary Ellen’s voice quavered. “Rebekah won’t die, will she?”
He reached across the table and took hold of her hand, squeezing it gently. “I haven’t heard from anyone since they took her to the hospital, so I don’t know how badly she was hurt.”
Mary Ellen pulled her hand away and jumped up, nearly knocking over her chair. “I want to see her, Pappy. Can we go to the hospital right now so I can talk to Rebekah and find out how she’s doin’?”
Amos shook his head. “Rebekah was knocked unconscious when the limb fell from the tree, and I’m sure the doctors are busy running tests on her.”
Mary Ellen’s eyes filled with tears, and several splashed onto her flushed cheeks. “Is—is Rebekah goin’ to heaven, the way Mama did?”
“I don’t know,” Amos replied honestly. “But I do know that she’s in good hands at the hospital, and I’m certain that the doctors and nurses are doing everything they can. We just need to pray.”
“I prayed for Mama, and God took her from us anyway,” Mary Ellen said tearfully. It was the first time since Ruth’s death that the child had shown such emotion, and Amos was at a loss for words.
Mary Ellen’s shoulders shook, and convulsing sobs wracked her little body. “If God takes Rebekah away, I don’t think I’ll ever forgive Him!” She rushed out of the room, and Amos heard her footsteps clomp up the stairs.
Dear Lord, he prayed, please let Rebekah be all right, and if You choose to take her home, then I’m asking You to help my little girl in dealing with it.
I can see that you really do need to talk, and I’m more than willing to listen,” Nick assured Miriam. “No more note-taking, I promise.”
She nodded slowly. “All right. As I was about to say, the tree branch broke, and it landed across Rebekah’s head and back. Amos came along soon after, and he went to call for help.”
“Who’s Amos?”
“He’s the father of one of my students. When the ambulance arrived, I rode to the hospital with Rebekah, and then Amos went to tell my brother Andrew and his wife, who are Rebekah’s parents, what had happened.”
“What’s the child’s prognosis—her condition?”
“I know what prognosis means,” she said in a tone of irritation.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to sound condescending.” He squeezed her shoulder. “Now, would you please continue with the story?”
She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. “The doctor said Rebekah has a concussion, and that’s the reason she’s still unconscious.”
“Guess that’s understandable.”
“He also said there’s some injury to her spinal cord.” Miriam gulped. “Rebekah will probably never walk again.”
“Doctors have been known to be wrong,” Nick said, thinking his optimism might offer some hope.
“I’m praying for a miracle, but—”
“Oh, that’s right, you Amish believe in all that faith stuff, don’t you?” Nick wrinkled his nose. “I’ve never held much stock in any kind of religious conviction.”
Miriam frowned. “Faith in God is biblical, Mr. McCormick. It’s not just the Amish who believe God is in control of their lives, either.”
“Come on now, Miriam. I don’t agree with you on something, and now it’s back to calling me Mr. McCormick. Is that how it is?”
“I think I was wrong in expecting you to help me sort out my feelings. You’re just trying to confuse me.”
“Not at all,” Nick said with a shake of his head. “I admire you for your faith, but it’s just not for me. I’m not one to put others down for their beliefs, but I don’t want to rely on anyone but myself. I don’t need God or faith.”
Miriam stared at her cup of iced tea. “You must think I’m pretty old-fashioned—in appearance as well as in my ideas.”
“How have I confused you?”
Nick leaned close to her. “I find you to be quite fascinating, Miriam, yet your ways are a bit strange to me and hard to understand. I’d like to find out more about you and your Amish traditions.”
“What would you like to know?”
“I know you’re expected to remain separate from the rest of the world, but I don’t grasp the reasons behind such a lifestyle.”
“The Bible tells us that we must present our bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God. It also states that we are not to be conformed to this world, but rather that we be transformed by the renewing of our minds,” Miriam said. “In 2 Corinthians it says that we are not to be unequally yoked together with unbelievers. Our entire lifestyle—our dress, language, work, travel, and education are the things we must consider because of this passage in the Bible. We must not be like the rest of the world. We must live as simply and humbly as possible.”
“So, things like telephones in your homes, electricity, cars, and gas-powered tractors are worldly and would cause you to be part of the modern world?”
She nodded. “To some, it may seem as if our religion is harsh and uncompromising, but all baptized members are morally committed to the church and its rules.”
“It sounds pretty hard to live like that, but I suppose if you’re content and feel that your way of life makes you happy, then who am I to say it’s wrong?”
I
Miriam was on the verge of telling Nick she was anything but happy and content, but she decided those words were best left unspoken. Besides, if she had discussed that issue with him, she would have been forced to deal with the nagging doubts that so often swirled in her head.
“I really would like to help you, Miriam,” Nick said.
“What kind of help do you have to offer?”
“It sounds to me like your niece is going to be in the hospital for quite a while, and she will no doubt require a lot of physical therapy and medical care.”
A Merry Heart Page 10