by Leslie Gould
He stood to pay at the counter, even though I insisted I could pay for my own. Once we bundled up, we headed out into the cold. As we walked, he asked when Elijah was coming home.
“May,” I answered.
He didn’t say anything more until we reached the front doors of the hospital. “I’ll leave you here.” He opened the door for me. “And see you in the morning.”
I stood at the door and watched him through the glass as he headed to the parking lot. He walked briskly into the wind, his head up.
How would I feel about Gordon Martin if he were Amish? And owned a farm? I shivered, even though the lobby was warm. I was pathetic.
When I arrived back in Jessica’s room, she was sitting up and reading a copy of The Budget that I guessed Gordon had brought her. She said she was feeling a little better. “How was your supper with Gordon?”
“Gut,” I answered.
“I don’t know what we would have done without him the last couple of days.”
I nodded. If nothing else, Gordon was dependable. But the truth was, he was much more than that.
“Have you ever asked if he’d join the Amish?” She smiled for the first time all day. And then winked at me.
I just shook my head, not bothering to answer. We all knew he wouldn’t.
“I know this sounds like a ludicrous question, but have you ever thought of becoming Mennonite?”
I gave her one of my looks.
“Jah,” she responded. “I didn’t think so.”
The next morning when the doctor arrived, he spoke with Jessica for several minutes. When they finished the conversation, he told her again how sorry he was that she’d lost the baby. “Your chances of conceiving are lower now, of course, but there’s no reason to think you won’t go on to have a normal pregnancy. Most likely, many more.”
She thanked him, and then he typed some notes into the computer, saying he was writing up the discharge order. “The nurse will be in soon to help you get ready.”
I called Gordon to tell him Jessica was being discharged.
By the time he arrived, Jessica was dressed and had signed all of the paperwork. Gordon went to get his car and met us at the hospital exit. Once we reached the first floor, there was a woman ahead of us in a wheelchair, a baby in her arms. My heart ached for Jessica.
Thankfully, Gordon’s car was waiting, and the nurse and I quickly got Jessica into the back seat. Gordon handed me a quilt to put over her. I’d forgotten how cold his car could be. Thankfully, it wouldn’t take us long to get home.
When we reached the house, I hurried up the steps first so I could talk with Mamm about if we should have both Jessica and Aenti Suz out in the Dawdi Haus. When I stepped inside, Aenti Suz was standing at the kitchen sink, the stitched side of her head toward me.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Your mother came down with the flu. I’m fixing her some tea.”
“Oh no,” I moaned. “I’ll be right back.” I headed up the stairs to Mamm’s room. The door was opened, and I stopped there. I told her I was sorry she was ill, and then presented my proposal. Gordon would bring Silas to our house and then ask Edith to come care for both Silas and Mamm, while I cared for Aenti Suz and Jessica in the Dawdi Haus. A neighbor would have to take care of Edith’s calves.
“Good idea,” Mamm answered. “I was careful to stay clear of Suz this morning because I felt feverish. She’s making me tea, but she was going to leave it in the doorway.”
“Gut,” I answered. “Hopefully she hasn’t been exposed.” The truth was, Silas had probably already exposed Jessica, but I believed we should still do our best to keep her from being exposed again. I told Mamm I’d come see her soon, and then hurried back downstairs.
Gordon and Jessica were in the living room, but I told them to keep on going, straight out to the Dawdi Haus. And then I asked Gordon if he could go get Edith and Silas and bring them both to the farmhouse. It meant John Stoltz would have to do his chores by himself until Silas recovered, but at least John didn’t have a dairy herd, so there was no milking to do.
My plan worked. I took care of Jessica and Aenti Suz while Edith nursed Mamm and Silas. Gordon did find a neighbor boy to help with the milking, and it turned out that Vi had fallen ill first in their family and was now on the mend enough to care for Arden and their children.
There were several times when I saw Jessica with tears in her eyes, and the rush of emotion I felt for her surprised me. Both for my sister and for the baby that had been lost. On Saturday, around noon, Leisel arrived. Unannounced.
I gasped in delight when she walked through the door, bringing a burst of freezing wind with her, although my next reaction was worry. “How were the roads?”
“Fine,” she answered. “How is everyone here?”
Jessica was on the couch and gave her a little wave. Leisel sat down beside her and gave her a hug and then whispered, “I’m so sorry.”
Aenti Suz came out of her bedroom and Leisel sprang to her feet, rushing toward her. “Oh, you poor thing!”
After she gave her a hug, she examined her stitches. “Your scar won’t be bad, and your hair will cover it up anyway.” She stepped back. “The doctor did a good job with the sutures.”
I put the kettle on, and then we all gathered around Jessica in the living room and drank tea and ate sticky buns I’d made the evening before.
After a while, Leisel yawned. Finding out that she’d worked the night before, we sent her to bed.
Jessica soon fell asleep too, and as I washed our dishes, Aenti Suz came in to dry them. “Want me to tell you the rest of Annie’s story?”
“Jah,” I answered. “But pull up a chair. There are so few of these dishes, I’ll have them done in no time.”
I reminded her where we’d left off. Annie was returning to Peach Bottom with Woody while Cecil went on to join his regiment in West Virginia.
20
Annie
For the next two weeks, Annie nursed Harriet night and day. The baby had been sent to a wet nurse in Peach Bottom, and then neighbors took Noah in so that he didn’t have to see his mother suffering. Kate helped care for Harriet as she could, but Cecil had been right. She was exhausted too. So much so that Woody stayed to help take care of her.
Only five soldiers were still at the house. Two had typhoid, one was still recovering from an amputated leg, one was recovering from a chest wound, and the last from a neck wound.
Woody helped with the cooking and also with feeding and bathing the soldiers. He helped George in the fields some, although he didn’t stay away from the house for long. In fact, he hovered over Kate until she convinced him she was all right. “I just overdid it.”
She did ask Woody if he would drive her to check in on her patients, and one night when she attended a birth, he stayed with her the entire time.
Annie was afraid Kate would come down with typhoid too, but thankfully she didn’t. Typhoid ran a course of about three weeks, and Harriet was in the second when Annie arrived. As Annie took care of her sister-in-law—forcing her to drink, cleaning her up and changing her clothes and feeding her soup and anything else she could keep down—she prayed, asking God to spare Harriet. For George. For the boys. For herself too. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing another sister.
Several times, usually in the middle of night, Harriet would hallucinate. A couple of times, she thought Cecil had died. One time she thought she’d literally lost the baby and couldn’t find him. Another time she thought Noah was off at war.
She rapidly lost weight, and her fever raged. Annie continued caring for her, fighting her own fatigue and despair. By the end of the third week, the two soldiers turned a corner, and a few days later, Harriet did too.
Annie kept diligent, fearful her sister-in-law might relapse. Harriet began asking for the boys, begging George to bring them home. He said he would, as soon as she was stronger.
Ira wrote his mother, asking if Woody could take the remaining
soldiers who were staying at George and Harriet’s to Hanover Junction to catch trains back to their homes or to meet their units, if they were healthy enough. He added that he was doing well and told his mother that Dr. Carson hoped she’d return to Gettysburg. Kate paused as she read the letter aloud.
“Are you thinking about going?” Woody asked.
She shook her head.
“Not even for Ira?”
She smiled a little. “He doesn’t need me. And I have plenty to do here.”
Woody took the soldiers west to the train and then returned. Kate moved back to her house and Woody to his shack, but he came back to help George with the harvest. Annie asked him if he planned to return to Lancaster any time soon.
“No,” he answered. “I’ve decided to take a break from hauling cargo. I’ve done well over the last few months and saved everything I could. Besides, the need isn’t what it used to be.”
He certainly didn’t have cargo to haul for the Union anymore. Annie wondered if, since the Confederates retreated back to Virginia, not as many slaves were coming over the border from Maryland. Perhaps they hoped the war would end soon and they’d be liberated without risking their lives to gain freedom. She guessed that Woody was helping with that cause. She didn’t know for sure.
Many were disappointed that General Meade hadn’t attacked Lee’s army again before it reached Virginia. “Perhaps the war would be over if he had,” Woody said one night as he and George talked after supper.
George said he didn’t know anything about that, and the conversation turned back to the crops.
Harriet grew strong enough for the boys to come home, and gradually things returned to normal.
Annie received a letter from her mother, saying she’d seen Samuel recently and he’d asked after her. Daughter, don’t hold his concerns for you against him. He has a good heart and cares for you deeply. I hope when you return, you’ll be ready to move on with your life. He seems to regret words he shared with you in his worry—perhaps he, like so many of us, has changed through these difficult times. Annie folded the letter and slipped it into her pocket. She knew it was her duty to forgive Samuel, just as God forgave her. Surely his behavior was due to the stress they were all under. Her mother was right. War had affected them all.
It was now late October, and she felt she should go home. Jah, her mother had her sister and mother’s company, but perhaps she’d prefer to have her only living daughter home too. It was time to return to the life God had for her.
The first of November, after the leaves on the trees along the river had turned yellow, orange, and a brilliant red, she pulled her shawl tighter and broached the topic with Harriet. Her sister-in-law begged her to stay. “Just for a couple more weeks.”
George, with Woody’s help, finished the harvest, and they all relaxed a little. The Rebels were long gone. Harriet was gaining her health back. Cecil, as far as they knew, was well. Nathaniel was a healthy baby. The corncrib was full, and the calves were growing. The cellar was stocked with squash, turnips, cabbage, and onions. George and his little family had survived.
Tears welled in Annie’s eyes. She missed Sophia, and going home would be hard, but she needed to honor her parents. They’d honored her, allowing her to do what she believed God had called her to do.
Both Woody and Kate visited often. It was as if they’d all gone through a fire together and survived. They’d all been bonded.
One day, Woody stopped by, saying he’d heard at the Peach Bottom store that the National Cemetery would be dedicated in two weeks. “November 19,” he said. “There are rumors that the president will be there.”
Annie thought of Ira and hoped he’d still be in Gettysburg for the ceremony. He’d be honored to see President Lincoln. If anyone deserved to, it was Ira.
The next week, Annie began to prepare to go home. She helped George dig the last of the potatoes in the garden and added them to the stores already in the cellar. She cleaned the house from top to bottom and washed all the bedding. She dried the rest of the apples and made kraut from the last of the cabbage. She started cheese and stored it in the cellar to finish.
On November 17, as she dumped the dishwater out in the backyard, a wagon turned into the driveway, coming from the west. She shaded her eyes from the setting sun, realizing it was Woody. Someone was with him, and it wasn’t Kate.
She squinted. It was Ira. He waved.
“What are you doing here?” She started toward him, the basin in her hands.
“I have a proposition for you.” He sat tall on the bench. “There’s a dedication for the National Cemetery in two days. Ma is considering going, but she suggested I ask you too.”
Annie lit the lamp, and George and Harriet joined Woody and Ira at the table. Next, she poured tea for all of them and served the apple pie she’d made for the next day—the day she’d planned, God willing, to leave. She’d hoped to find a ride at the store in Peach Bottom to Lancaster. Or that perhaps Woody could take her, but she doubted that now.
Ira explained that those at Gettysburg planning the dedication of the National Cemetery were inviting all sorts of people to the event: soldiers who survived, but also nurses who’d come from all over the state and pitched in to care for the wounded after the battle. “Ma is hesitant about going,” he said. “But she said she would if you’d be willing.” He looked kindly at Annie, his blue eyes sparkling. “I wanted to extend the invitation, if going wouldn’t bring too much heartache for you.”
Her nightmares had subsided, although they weren’t entirely gone. But the truth was, she wanted to see Gettysburg again without blood in the streets and the stench of death in the air. Without mangled horses and decaying soldiers.
Annie believed that it might bring healing to herself to go, and she wondered if Kate felt the same. She’d been so adamant about not going back to Dr. Carson’s, but this would be different.
George rubbed his brow. “Do we need to go through more of this? I thought you were heading home—not traipsing west again.”
“I could escort her home after the dedication,” Ira said. “I’m going to ride the train to Philadelphia right after the ceremony and will be going through Lancaster on the way.”
“Why Philadelphia?” Annie asked.
“I’m going to work in an army hospital there, to be trained as a surgeon. Doc arranged it for me.”
Annie sensed Woody bristle, but he didn’t say anything. She turned her attention to George. “I’d like to go back to Gettysburg.”
“Will your mother go for sure?” George asked Ira. “I need to know Annie will be well chaperoned.”
“I’m sure she will go if Annie does.”
Woody shifted in his chair.
Ira seemed oblivious to Woody’s anxiety. “We’ll need to leave tomorrow. We can stay at Doc’s house while we’re in Gettysburg and then head to Lancaster on the twentieth.”
“Is your mother all right with that?” Annie asked.
“I think so,” Ira said. “Doc sent a letter apologizing for his behavior last summer.” He lowered his voice. “He hasn’t had a drink since Ma left.”
Annie glanced at George, but he didn’t protest again.
Ira turned to Woody. “Could you take us to Hanover Junction in the morning? And then pick Ma up in York on the twentieth?”
Woody crossed his arms but agreed. He didn’t look happy. Perhaps he worried about Kate seeing Dr. Carson again too. Annie wasn’t sure about the relationship between Woody and Kate, but they seemed to care for each other.
“It’s settled then,” Ira said.
“Go with them tonight,” Harriet said to Annie. “You’ll need an early start tomorrow.”
Annie wondered for a moment if she had the clothes she needed, and then realized it didn’t matter. She was who she was. A simple Amish girl. No one would expect anything more. She had her cloak to keep her warm. That was what mattered most.
She rose and excused herself to go finish packing her bag, and prep
ared herself to tell George, Harriet, and the boys good-bye. Life was about to shift again, but first she had an excursion to take, thanks to Ira. One she’d never expected.
A half hour later, Kate welcomed Annie into her home. It was the first time Annie had been inside. Kate took her bag and cloak and then led her to the fireplace in the parlor. Annie had never seen so many fine things. A velvet settee and two chairs. A cabinet filled with china and glass. A large mirror over the mantel. Thick rugs. It was nothing like the plain parlor back home.
Ira disappeared upstairs, and after Annie had warmed up, Kate called her down the hall. “You can sleep in here,” she said.
The room had a four-poster bed, a china pitcher and basin, and a maple wardrobe. On the bed was a woven indigo coverlet.
“It’s all so fancy,” Annie said.
“It’s our guest room,” Kate said. “The things on the first floor are from my past that I haven’t given away yet. My room is upstairs. So is Ira’s.”
The woman put her arm around Annie. “I’m so glad you’re here and that we’re going back to Gettysburg. I think it will be good for all of us.”
Annie nodded. “Thank you for inviting me.”
The next morning, Woody picked them up at Kate’s in a buggy with two benches, pulled by four horses. “I borrowed the team and buggy,” he said. “We’ll make better time, and hopefully you’ll all keep warmer.”
The day wasn’t freezing, but it was still cold. Kate had warmed bricks in the stove to put at their feet, and had packed wool blankets too.
She gave Annie a second cloak to wear and a pair of thick wool socks that made Annie’s boots too tight, but she wore them anyway. The two women sat on the second bench while Ira sat up front with Woody.
The teamster didn’t speak much as he drove.
Dr. Carson had finally succeeded in getting Kate to return to Gettysburg. Ira must have been right about the man changing, because otherwise Annie was sure Kate wouldn’t have agreed to go back.