As she stepped into the washroom, a knock sounded at the back door. A man’s shadow stretched across the open doorway. Papa and Diedrich were out cutting hay, but of course, neither of them would feel obliged to knock.
She dropped the sheets at the bottom of the stairs and stepped to the door. When the figure of the man came into view, dismay dragged down her shoulders. “Eli, I told you not to come around again. Diedrich and I are engaged—”
“I’m not here about that.” His somber features held no hint of his usual cocky demeanor. “I’m here about Diedrich’s pa—old man Rothhaus.” He jerked his head toward the lane where Sam Tanner sat on the seat of a buckboard. “There’s been an accident.” Grimacing, he twisted his hat in his hands. “He’s hurt bad. Real bad.”
Chapter 29
D iedrich paused in his work with the scythe. Resting the curved blade on a mound of timothy hay he had cut a moment before, he leaned against the tool’s long handle. Only one more half acre to cut. And if the weather stayed dry, he and Herr Seitz should be able to get all the hay put up in the mow by the end of the week.
Sighing, he lifted his sweaty face to the cool breeze and gazed at the fluffy white clouds the wind chased across the azure sky. He couldn’t imagine a more idyllic scene. And indeed, to a casual observer, his life would undoubtedly seem ideal. He’d won the love of his life, and her entire family—even including Sophie—all wanted him to be part of their family. In the space of two months he could possibly claim Regina for his wife and at the same time become co-owner of the best farmland he’d ever had the privilege to work.
But the regret twisting his insides reminded him of the threatening cloud of uncertainty that still overshadowed his hopes for a happy future. Without Father’s blessing, his dreams of a life with Regina on this land he had come to love could very well evaporate like the shifting clouds above him. Although Regina had agreed to reinstate their engagement, he couldn’t expect her to wait forever. What was more, he knew his father’s stubbornness. Father had never tolerated even a whiff of disrespect from any of his sons. And Father had undoubtedly seen Diedrich’s outburst eleven days ago as a rank display of disrespect. Not since Diedrich was a child and received a disciplinary swat on the backside had Father struck him—and never before on the face.
He instinctively rubbed his unshaven cheek. The initial sting had long faded, but the memory of the blow still reverberated to his core. Diedrich’s heart felt as if it were being ripped asunder. Thoughts of giving up either Regina or Father were equally abhorrent. Dear Lord, don’t make me choose. Please, God, don’t make me choose .
“Diedrich! Papa!”
At the sound of Regina’s voice, Diedrich whipped his head around. The sight of her bounding toward him over the hay field lifted his glum mood while piquing his curiosity. It was too soon for dinner, so he couldn’t guess what might have brought her all the way out here to summon him and Herr Seitz. And at the moment, he didn’t care. He was just glad to see her. Though the distance between them still made it hard to discern her mood, he imagined her smiling face and his own lips tipped up in anticipation.
But the next moment her face came into clear view, wiping the smile from his face. Her blue eyes were wide and wild with fear. No hint of a smile brightened her terrified expression.
Dropping the scythe, he trotted toward her. He caught her around the waist, and her torso moved beneath his hands with the exertion of her lungs. “Regina, what is the matter?” He knew she and her mother were washing laundry today. Could Frau Seitz have been scalded by hot water? “Has something happened to your Mutter?”
She shook her head then pulled in a huge breath and exhaled. “Nein. It is your Vater. Eli Tanner came to tell us there has been an accident at the mill.” Her chin quivered, and her eyes glistened with welling tears, causing Diedrich to fear the worst. His insides crumpled at the thought of losing his father before they had the chance to reconcile.
He let go of Regina so she wouldn’t feel his hands trembling. Though he longed to ask the dreaded question pulsating in his mind, her words had snatched the breath from his lungs. His chest felt as if he’d been kicked by one of the Clydesdales.
Herr Seitz loped up in time to hear Regina’s news. “Tell us, Tochter. What has happened?” He grasped her shoulders, and she drew in another ragged breath.
“Eli said Herr Rothhaus was chasing a raccoon from the mill and slipped on some grain on the floor. He fell and hit his head on the millstone.” A large teardrop appeared on her lower lashes and sparkled in the sun like a liquid diamond perched on threads of spun gold. At any other time the sight would have melted Diedrich’s heart, and he would have pulled her into his arms to comfort her. But not now. Instead, an icy chill shot through him, and his arms hung helplessly at his sides.
“Regina, you must tell us.” Herr Seitz’s voice, though firm, turned tender—coaxing. “Does Herr Rothhaus still live?”
She nodded, and Diedrich’s knees almost buckled with his relief. The plethora of questions crowding his mind tumbled from his lips as from an overturned apple cart. “Where is he? How badly is he hurt? Can he speak? Has anyone gone to fetch a doctor?” He hated the harsh, interrogating tone his voice had taken, but he couldn’t keep it out. If Father died before he could reach him and reconcile, Diedrich would never forgive himself.
Regina blinked, and Diedrich glimpsed a flicker of fear in her eyes. It seared his conscience. Her forehead puckered as if in confusion, or was it pain? She narrowed a harder, unflinching look at him. “He is at the house. He is alive but not fully conscious. Eli has gone to Dudleytown for the doctor, and his Vater is helping Mama settle Herr Rothhaus onto the downstairs bed.” Her voice sounded rigid—formal. It was as if they were suddenly strangers.
No one spoke as the three strode to the house together. Regina didn’t look at Diedrich, and her father walked between them. In more ways than one, Diedrich could feel the distance between him and the woman he loved lengthening by the minute.
When they reached the house, Diedrich didn’t stop to wash up but rushed to the downstairs bedroom he and Father had shared when they first arrived at the Seitz home. Father lay on the bed with the quilt pulled up to his chest. The clean white cloth encircling his head bore a crimson stain at the forehead above his left eye. Was it just the light, or had Father’s salt-and-pepper hair turned even grayer in the week and a half since Diedrich last saw him? His eyes were closed, and his face chalk white. Frau Seitz sat at his bedside. Her expression anxious, she patted his hand while continually calling his name. If not for the tiny rise and fall of Father’s chest, Diedrich might have thought his spirit had already left his body.
Diedrich rushed to his father’s side and took his hand. A parade of memories flashed through his mind—his father’s smiling face as he swung Diedrich up on a horse for the first time; his tender expression, compassionate voice, and gentle touch as he picked Diedrich up and brushed him off when he fell. The rancor in Diedrich’s heart from his recent dispute with his parent faded. Father had always taken care of him. He would now take care of his father.
With tears blurring his vision, he knelt by the bed and rubbed his father’s weathered hand. “Can you hear me, Papa?”
Father moaned and rolled his head on the pillow, igniting a flicker of hope in Diedrich’s chest. But no amount of prompting evoked a more coherent response. For what seemed like days but was probably less than an hour, Diedrich stayed at his father’s side alternately praying and trying to rouse him. Little conversation occurred. Regina and her parents and Sam Tanner hovered nearby, quietly praying. At last, Eli appeared with a middle-aged man in dress clothes carrying a black leather satchel.
With Herr Seitz translating, the man introduced himself as Dr. Phineas Hughes. He pulled up a chair next to the bed, displacing Diedrich, and handed Regina his dusty, short-top hat. First, he lifted Father’s eyelids one at a time and peered into them. Then he removed the bandage from Father’s head and examined the wound. Des
pite the bluish-purple lump rising on Father’s forehead, the doctor pronounced the wound superficial and of no grave concern. The problem, he surmised, was any unseen damage that might have occurred to the brain in the fall.
Diedrich fought the urge to pepper the physician with a barrage of questions, deciding it best to wait and allow the man to make a full examination. So he held his peace as the doctor took a sharp instrument from his satchel and poked the bottom of Father’s foot. At the touch, Father moaned, rolled his head, and drew up his knee. Though ignorant of medicine, Diedrich took Father’s response and the doctor’s “Mm-hmm” as encouraging signs.
Returning the sharp instrument to the satchel, Dr. Hughes then took out a wooden tube with a bell shape on one end and an ivory disk on the other. He placed the bell-shaped end on Father’s chest and pressed his own ear to the ivory disk. Slipping his watch from his plaid waistcoat, he watched the face of the timepiece as he listened. At length, he put away both the tube and the watch. While Diedrich waited with bated breath, the doctor sat upright and emitted a soft harrumph. “Well, his heart sounds strong.” He shook his head. “But that he has not yet regained full consciousness is troubling.”
Standing, he picked up his satchel then retrieved his hat from Regina. “There is really nothing more I can do. His healing is in God’s hands now. We know very little about the workings of the brain, and such injuries are unpredictable. All we can do is to wait and observe.” He shot a glance at Regina and Frau Seitz. “Keep the head wound clean and bandaged, and someone should sit with him until …” Clearing his throat, he looked down. When he looked back up, he gave Diedrich a kind smile. “Just keep a watch on him. And it would not hurt to talk to him. It has been the experience of some physicians that such patients do seem to hear and understand in some way. It is thought by some who study these cases that conversation can actually help stimulate the brain and bring the patient back into consciousness.” He plopped his hat on his thick shock of graying hair. “Let me know if there are any changes. We should know one way or another within forty-eight hours.”
As Herr Seitz interpreted the doctor’s words, a crushing dread gripped Diedrich. The doctor’s prognosis seemed to be Father would either recover or die in the next two days.
Bidding the group good day, Dr. Hughes exchanged handshakes with Diedrich and Herr Seitz then left the house with young Tanner.
With the doctor’s departure, a somber pall fell over the room, and an overwhelming sense of guilt and despondency enveloped Diedrich.
Regina’s heart broke for Diedrich. Only the two of them remained in the room with Herr Rothhaus. Mama had left to gather more cotton cloths for bandages, while Papa saw Herr Tanner to his wagon. Seeing Diedrich slumped in the chair beside his father’s still form, his face crestfallen and drawn, she was filled with a desire to comfort him. She pressed her hand on his shoulder. “Gott will hear our prayers and heal him. We must have faith.”
He shrugged off her hand, sending a chill through her. The cold look he gave her felt as if he’d stabbed her through the heart with an icicle. He gave a sardonic snort. “My faith is all used up, Regina. I prayed Gott would change Vater’s heart—not stop it. When I asked Him to remove the obstacles preventing us from marrying, I never expected Him to answer by taking Vater from me.” His lips twisted in a sneer, and his voice dripped with sarcasm. “But Gott has given us what we asked, has He not? Soon there will likely be no impediment to our marrying.”
A pain more excruciating than any she had ever felt before slashed through Regina. Though reason told her Diedrich’s hard words were born out of crushing worry for his father, she also knew they came directly from his heart. Diedrich blamed their love and, by extension, Regina, for his father’s condition. Whether Herr Rothhaus lived or died, a marriage between her and Diedrich had become impossible. Tears filled her eyes and thickened her voice. “Pray for your Vater’s recovery, as I will be praying. But there will be no marriage. I am releasing you from our engagement.”
As she turned to leave the room, she harbored a glimmer of hope Diedrich might utter a word of objection. But he stayed silent, extinguishing her hope and plunging her heart into darkness.
For the next twenty-four hours, Herr Rothhaus’s condition remained unchanged. Diedrich never left his side except when Regina came into the room to change Herr Rothhaus’s bandage or feed him warm broth from a cup, which he oddly took only from her hand. She had insisted on shouldering much of Herr Rothhaus’s care, initially out of a sense of scriptural duty. He hated her. And his hatred had robbed her of any hope for a happy life with Diedrich. But she did not want to hate him back. She had seen the pain hatred inflicted on Sophie and then later the freeing power of forgiveness. Though Herr Rothhaus could inflict an injury on her heart, she would not allow him to inflict one on her soul. Also, she hoped by caring for his father, she might earn back a measure of Diedrich’s regard. But she hadn’t expected to so quickly find her heart blessed by the moments she spent with Herr Rothhaus. She soon ceased to equate the gentle man she cared for like an infant with the angry man who had hurled insults at her. At the same time, Diedrich’s altered demeanor toward her ripped at her heart. The moment he spied her coming, he’d leave the room with scarcely a word or a glance. It hurt to think he could not even bear to share the same space with her.
Despite Diedrich’s rejection, Regina found solace in ministering to his father. Although Herr Rothhaus gave no sign of awareness, the fact he took the broth in a relatively normal manner with her holding the cup and wiping drips from his chin encouraged her. Remembering the doctor’s advice, she talked to him, prayed, recited encouraging verses of scripture, and even sang hymns as she cared for him.
Two days after the accident, Regina had just finished giving Herr Rothhaus his supper of broth. As she dabbed the remnants from his mouth and chin whiskers with a cotton towel, she recited scriptures about healing.” ‘For I will restore health unto thee, and I will heal thee of thy wounds, saith the Lord.’” She bowed her head over her folded hands. “Dear Lord, I ask You to heal Herr Rothhaus. Please restore him to full health—”
“Regina.” Diedrich’s soft voice halted her in midsentence. Opening her eyes, she looked up to find him standing in the doorway, gazing at her. His gray eyes—as soft as the morning mist—held a tenderness toward her she thought she would never see again. “I surrender.”
She could only sit gaping, confused by his ambiguous comment. “Surrender what? I do not understand.”
He stepped into the room. “I surrender to you—to my love for you.” He crossed to where she sat and, taking her hands in his, knelt before her on one knee. “Regina, when I learned of Vater’s accident, I feared he might die without us reconciling.” He glanced at his father’s face and grimaced. “I still do.” He swallowed. “I blamed you. And I tried to close my heart to you. But it is no use. You have become too much a part of it—too much a part of me.” He gave her a sad smile. “I could not bar you from my heart last spring when I thought I wanted to go to California. I should have known I could not do it now.”
He glanced at his father again, and his eyebrows pinched together in a frown. “You were right. Vater made his choice. I have done much praying.” His lips quirked in a wry grin. “Like Jacob of the scriptures, I have wrestled with Gott about this situation. In my own guilt, I blamed you for the rift between me and Vater. That was wrong of me—as wrong as it was for Vater to blame you for what your birth Vater and Großvater did against our family.”
Regina held her breath. The lump of tears gathering in her throat rendered her mute. What was he saying? Was he choosing her over his father?
Diedrich’s thumbs caressed the backs of her hands, sending the familiar thrill up her arms. “You did not repay your sister’s trespasses against you with meanness or spite but forgave her as our Lord bade us to do. In the same manner, I have watched you tenderly care for my Vater after the unkind way he treated you.” He shook his head, and his eyes brimmed with
emotion. “Where could I find another woman like you? I know now whatever happens”—he glanced once more at his father’s face—“whatever happens, I must make you my wife. I cannot bear the thought of living my life without you. My Vater may be against our marriage, but I feel with all my heart Gott is for it. Please say again you will marry me.”
Before she could answer, a faint voice intruded.
“Angel.”
At once, Diedrich sprang to his feet and rushed to his father’s bedside. But Regina stepped back. If Herr Rothhaus was truly rousing from his two-day stupor, Diedrich’s face should be the one he saw first—not Regina’s.
Diedrich sat on the chair beside the bed and grasped his father’s hand. “Vater, it is Diedrich. Did you say something?”
Herr Rothhaus’s head rolled back and forth on the pillow. “Angel,” he murmured again. His eyelids fluttered then half opened. He peered at Diedrich from beneath drooping lids. “Diedrich, mein lieber Sohn. You are in heaven with me, then?”
Diedrich smiled and shook his head. “Nein, Vater. And neither are you. Two days ago, you fell at the mill and hit your head on the grinding stone. We feared Gott might take you, but He has heard our prayers, and you are still with us here on earth.”
A Bride's Sweet Surprise in Sauers, Indiana Page 26