Home to Paradise
Page 19
He shrugged. “I’m just glad you’re going to be okay.” He paused. “I wish you’d have let me tell Brad earlier about your heart. I think this was a shock.”
“He’d have worried. Tried to talk me into going back to Philadelphia.” He shifted in bed. “Well, guess you can be going.”
John shook his head. “Told your son I’d stay until he got here.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to.”
Neil studied him. “You’re a good man, John. I’m lucky I hired you.”
“I’m lucky you hired me. Best job I ever had,” he said honestly.
They came to wheel Neil into surgery, so John returned to the waiting room. Restless, wanting to do something, he found himself wandering down the hall. On his way to the cafeteria, he’d passed a chapel.
Maybe God paid more attention to prayers said in such a place.
It couldn’t hurt.
***
When John missed supper, Rose Anna got worried.
“Did you check the answering machine?” her mudder asked her as they did the dishes.
She nodded. “I went out there twice.” She bit her lip and glanced at the clock on the wall.
“Go check it again. I’m schur he just got held up at work.”
Her mudder was right. There was a message from John. It was a long one explaining he’d spent most of the day at the hospital with Neil. He’d be spending the night at the farm—maybe the next few days—until Neil got out of the hospital. He left his cell phone number and asked her to call him back.
She thought about doing it, stood there for a few minutes staring at the telephone.
And then she got an idea.
She walked back to the house and told her mudder what had happened. “Mamm, would you mind if I took some leftovers from supper and dropped them off to John at the farm?”
Linda wiped her hands on a dish towel. “Schur. Why don’t you do the same for Neil’s son in case he’s staying there?”
“Gut idea.”
She got out plastic containers, packed the food, and loaded it into a tote bag. She added a Thermos of iced tea, some cookies, and fruit.
“Drive careful,” her mudder said as she headed for the door.
She kissed her cheek. “Danki. And I’ll be back soon.”
Her dat was in the barn doing evening chores. He looked surprised when she told him she was taking the buggy out but quickly helped her hitch up the horse to it.
The air was still heavy and warm. A late afternoon rain shower hadn’t cooled things down at all. Most of the fields that lined the roads had been harvested. Summer was nearly over.
Time was rushing on.
John’s truck was parked outside the barn when she got there. She knocked on the door of the barn and then slid the door open.
“Rose Anna!” John turned from filling a water bucket. “What are you doing here?”
“I got your message. I thought maybe you hadn’t eaten supper.” She held up the tote.
“Danki, I haven’t eaten all day.” He waved a hand at a nearby bale of hay. “Have a seat.”
She sat down. “I’m sorry about Neil. I know how much you like him. How is he doing?”
“He came through the surgery fine. His son is with him.” He took a seat on another bale of hay near her.
She handed him a plastic container of chicken and noodle casserole. “Mamm suggested I pack extra in case he was staying here.”
John opened the plastic container and his eyes lit up when he saw what was inside. “Your mudder’s chicken and noodles are the best.”
“I made it.”
“Oh, well, I’m schur it will be very gut.”
“It’s allrecht. I used her recipe.” She glanced around at the interior of the barn. It was clean and orderly just like the other time she’d been inside.
She’d have expected no less of John. His dat had certainly been a stern taskmaster about keeping the barn clean. She knew animals got sick if their stalls weren’t cleaned well. Disease could spread from one to another, and suddenly a farmer was spending large amounts of money on veterinary bills or worse, having to replace stock if his animals died.
She watched with satisfaction as John ate every bite of the chicken and noodles. It wasn’t much, just leftovers, but he’d obviously been ravenous. He ate a couple of cookies and then poured cold tea into a plastic cup.
“Want some?” he asked, holding out the glass.
“Maybe just a sip,” she said, taking it.
She supposed she should go. The bishop was stern about a single man and a woman being alone together.
The barn was quiet except for the occasional horse shifting in its stall.
When she heard the foal whinny, the sound tentative and high-pitched, she couldn’t help smiling.
“Did Neil name her yet?”
He nodded and filled the glass with cold tea again. “Fiona. I have no idea why.”
“How sweet. It suits her. She’s so delicate.”
“She’ll grow up to be a big horse like her mudder.”
“True. But it’ll still suit her with those big brown eyes.” She paused. “Speaking of mudders . . .”
He winced. “Do we have to?”
She nodded.
“I didn’t realize you blamed your mudder as well as your dat.”
He nodded. “I guess I made that obvious.”
“Do you really think she could do anything? Women of her generation were taught that the mann is the head of the haus.”
“It doesn’t mean that if he’s cruel that she shouldn’t speak up.”
“I heard that the bishop talked to her and took your dat’s side.”
John sighed. “He did.”
“Then what could she really do, John?”
They heard a vehicle pull up on the gravel drive outside and sprang apart.
A few moments later, the barn door slid open.
“Brad! How’s your father?”
“He’s resting comfortably. They told me to go home and come back in the morning.”
“Brad, this is Rose Anna.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“It’s a good sign when they send family home,” Rose Anna told him. “I brought you some supper in case you didn’t get anything to eat at the hospital.”
He looked surprised as she handed him the tote. “That’s very thoughtful. No, I didn’t want to leave Dad, and on the way out, I saw the cafeteria was closed.”
“It’s just chicken and noodles, some cookies, and fruit.”
“Sounds wonderful. I’m starved.”
A horse neighed, and Brad jumped and stepped several feet away from where she’d been standing.
“I hope you have a key,” John said. “I locked up and left the porch light on as we left with the ambulance this afternoon, but I didn’t think about the fact that I don’t have a key if you needed to get in.”
“It’s okay. I do” He held up the tote bag. “Thank you for dinner, Rose Anna. I appreciate you thinking of me.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll say a prayer for your father tonight.”
“I—that’s very kind. Thanks.” He looked at John. “And thank you for all you did for my dad today. The doctor said your swift action probably saved his life.”
Rose Anna watched a flush creep up John’s neck. “No need to thank me. It’s no more than anyone would do.”
“I disagree. Well, I’m going to go eat this and get some rest. I’ll see you later, John. And Rose Anna, again, thank you.”
She nodded and watched him leave. “He seems like a nice man.”
“Ya. I didn’t think so at first. He wasn’t the friendliest to me when we met. I think he was a bit jealous of the relationship I have with his father. They don’t share a love of horses.”
“I noticed he looked nervous being in here.” She stood. “Well, I should be getting home.”
“Danki for coming.”
“It was just supper.
”
“It was more than that. You knew Neil’s become a friend. A gut friend.”
She wondered if he’d become the dat John never had, but now wasn’t the time to say it.
He walked her out, and they stood for a moment beside the buggy. Fireflies winked on and off in the distance. Honeysuckle was blooming somewhere near, and the scent carried on the sulky summer breeze.
The night was perfect for a long drive in the country. But John had looked exhausted in the light inside the barn, and she’d told her mudder she wouldn’t be out late.
“See you tomorrow.”
She nodded. “Tomorrow.”
He kissed her, a light kiss but one whose heat lingered. She got into the buggy, picked up the reins, and began the ride back home. And when she glanced back and saw him lift his hand and wave to her, she was glad she’d come. He looked lonely.
When she was a block away, she touched her lips and felt the promise in his kiss all the way home.
17
Rose Anna went to bed with the windows open to a warm, late summer evening breeze wafting in.
She woke to a definite nip in the air and hurried to shut the window. After dressing quickly, she brushed and put her hair in a bun and pinned a fresh kapp on.
Her mudder had breakfast cooking when she got downstairs. She turned and smiled at her. “Guder mariye.”
“Guder mariye. I can’t believe how cool it is this morning.”
Linda nodded. “I thought oatmeal would be gut.”
Rose Anna sprinkled brown sugar on top and then added some milk. “I wonder how Neil is doing this morning. His son looked worried last night.”
“So he was there at the farm?”
“Ya, he arrived just after I got there. I’m glad you suggested I take some food for him. He and John hadn’t eaten. John said he might come over later today.”
Her dat walked in, poured himself a cup of coffee, and sat at the table. Linda set a big bowl of oatmeal before him and pushed the pitcher of milk closer. Then she glanced at the door that led to the dawdi haus. “Seems like Abraham gets up later and later these days.”
Rose Anna frowned. “Are you worried about him?”
“A little, after the news about John’s boss.”
“I can go wake Grossdaadi up.”
“Nee, I’m schur he’s allrecht.” She brightened. “I know how to do it without knocking on his door.”
Rose Anna watched her mudder curiously as she went to the refrigerator. She got a package from the freezer, walked to the stove, and turned on the oven.
“Cinnamon rolls?” her dat asked, perking up.
“Sticky buns.” She slid the pan in the oven.
Soon the scent filled the air.
Before the timer dinged, the door to the dawdi haus opened and Grossdaadi shuffled out looking sleepy. “Something smells gut.”
“Hey, we only got oatmeal,” her dat pretended to complain.
“You can have a bun, dear,” Linda told him. “Guder mariye, Abraham. Here, have some coffee. Sticky buns will be out in a minute or two.”
The timer went off, and she pulled the pan out. She used a spatula to place the rolls on a plate. Both men insisted on taking one before they were cooled enough and then tossed them from hand to hand so they could take a bite. Linda just gave them both an indulgent smile.
Rose Anna took a bun and found she still had room for it after the oatmeal.
“Abraham, why are you rubbing your chest?” Linda asked him.
His hand dropped. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You were rubbing your chest.”
He shook his head. “Just your imagination.”
Linda looked at her mann. Jacob shrugged.
“I saw it too,” Rose Anna said. “Grossdaadi, is your heart bothering you?”
“The two of you need to stop fussing. I’m fine. Just had a twinge or two. Now it feels like I have some pressure, like I have to cough and then I don’t. Maybe just need a little Pepto-Bismol for indigestion.”
Linda got up and checked the calendar on the wall. “Today’s a clinic day. I think we should go have it checked out.”
Abraham took a big bite of his roll. “Women worry too much. Man can’t get any peace in his own haus.”
Rose Anna thought about Neil and how John had said the man hadn’t wanted to go the doctor . . .
“Grossdaadi, we could take a quick trip to the clinic and then stop by the Zimmerman horse farm, take John some of these buns. They have a new filly.”
He cocked his head to one side and considered what she had said. “John, eh?”
She nodded. “And a new filly. You know how you used to love helping with the horses.”
“Allrecht,” he said. “After I have another bun. Can’t get through a morning on just one bun you know.” He took it and left the table. “I’ll put on my gut shirt.”
“And shoes,” Linda called. “You’ve got on your house slippers.” When he went into the dawdi haus and shut the door, muttering about being nagged, she chuckled. “Well, that was nice maneuvering, Rose Anna.”
Rose Anna grinned and found a plastic container for four of the buns.
“She learned from the best,” Jacob said as he reached for another bun.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Linda demanded with a huff.
“Why, she learned from Miriam,” he said innocently.
His fraa gave him a narrow glance.
Giggling, Rose Anna escaped from the kitchen. She got her sweater and purse, rounded up Grossdaadi who pretended he didn’t know he still had on his house slippers, and went out to the barn to hitch up the buggy.
Her dat was already there doing the job for her. When she thanked him, he grinned. “Seemed a gut time to get out of the kitchen.”
She laughed. “Mamm knew you were teasing.”
He kissed her cheek. “You call if the doctor is concerned about Grossdaadi, allrecht?”
“I will.”
She was disappointed when she didn’t see John’s truck parked at the farm on the way into town.
“Why aren’t we stopping?”
“John’s not there. We’ll check back on our way home.” She saw him glance at the back seat. “Nee, Grossdaadi, the buns are for John and Brad.”
“Who’s Brad?”
“Mr. Zimmerman’s sohn. He’s here because his dat had a heart attack and is in the hospital.”
“That why your mudder and you overreacted about me this morning?”
“We didn’t overreact,” she said mildly. “It won’t hurt to have you visit the clinic.”
“Waste of time,” he muttered, frowning.
“You’re worth it,” she told him and grinned at him. To her delight he grinned back, reached over, and patted her hand.
“You’re a gut grossdochder,” he said.
The news from the clinic doctor was mixed. “Mr. Zook has a mild arrhythmia,” he told Rose Anna. “But we have a medication that should help. I’d like him to take it for two weeks then come back and see us.”
Relieved, Rose Anna left the clinic with Grossdaadi, and they started home. John’s truck was still not at the farm so she left the box with the buns on the porch of the farmhouse.
Something felt wrong. Very wrong.
***
John came instantly awake when he heard a noise outside the barn.
He slid the door open and saw Brad standing beside his car.
“Neil?” he mumbled, sitting up and blinking. “Oh, Brad. I thought you were with your dad. Where are you going?”
“You’re still here.”
He ran his hands through his hair. “Yeah. What’s wrong?”
“The hospital. It’s Dad. I’ve got to go back. He’s—he’s having some sort of setback.” He stopped as if unable to go on.
“Let me drive you.”
“I can drive myself,” he said, his voice shaking. Then he dropped his car keys, and John had to pluck them up.
“They wouldn’t say much. Just said to come right away.”
John floored it. He’d risk a ticket. He glanced over and saw Brad’s face was leached of color as they passed under a streetlight. “Hang in there. We’ll be there soon.”
Neil was already gone when they got there.
“I don’t understand. I thought he was doing well when I left.” Brad stood by his father’s bedside staring down at his father’s still form with disbelief.
“The doctor thinks he may have had a blood clot,” a nurse told them. “He’d be here to talk to you, but he’s with a patient. He’ll be in as soon as he can. You stay with your father as long as you like.” She patted his shoulder before leaving the room.
John had lost grosseldres, but they were so much older than Neil. It didn’t seem possible that the man was gone.
He couldn’t imagine how Brad felt. “He was the best man I ever knew,” John said, feeling awkward.
“I wouldn’t have left if I’d thought this would happen.”
“You came when he needed you. You spent hours with him after you got here.”
Brad sank down in a chair beside the bed and took his father’s hand. “He was a wonderful father.” Tears were running down Brad’s cheeks. “I didn’t tell him often enough.”
“He knew. He was so proud of you.”
“He talked about me?”
“A lot.”
Brad lifted his father’s hand to his face. Grief overcame him.
John felt tears burning at the backs of his eyelids and tremors were shaking his body. He was ashamed of how relieved he was when the doctor—a different one than he’d met before—walked in just then to talk to Brad.
He stepped outside and waited. The doctor came out a few minutes later and strode on down the hall. Long minutes passed. John debated going back inside and felt doing so would intrude on the other man’s grief.
When Brad finally came out his eyes were swollen, but he seemed a little calmer. “Sorry. I forgot you were out here.”
“We’ll stay as long as you need to. Do you want me to go get you coffee or something?”
He shook his head. “I guess we can go. There’s nothing else I can do for him now.”