Leah's Choice

by Marta Perry

  Her heart thundering in her ears, she ran toward the door that led out to the daadi haus, but before she could reach it, Daad was already there, pulling suspenders over his shoulders. His face was bleak.

  “Anna,” he said.

  “She’s not home.” Leah’s voice broke, and she clutched his arm. “She’s not here. It must be—”

  “Ja.” His face tightened until the skin seemed stretched over the bones. “You should go and stay with your mamm.”

  Before Leah could move, her mother came in, clad like Leah in a nightgown and holding a shawl tightly around her, as if it would protect her from whatever was coming toward them.

  “No need,” she said. “I’m here.”

  Daadi patted her shoulder. “Go back, now. Let Leah stay with you until we know what is wrong.”

  She shook her head, her graying braids swinging. “I must hear it, Elias. She is my baby.”

  Footsteps echoed on the porch, heavy and authoritative. The knock on the door hammered against Leah’s heart.

  Mamm clung to Daad now, so Leah went to open it. The tall state trooper was young—young enough to look embarrassed at the sight of her in her nightgown.

  “Is this the home of Anna Beiler?”

  She stepped back, opening the door wide and gesturing for him to enter. “Yes.” She struggled to catch her breath. “I am Leah Beiler, her sister. Our parents, Elias and Martha Beiler.” She clutched her hands together, framing a wordless prayer. “Anna—how bad is it?”

  He frowned, looking as if he were trying to remember whatever he’d learned about how to break bad news. “There’s been an accident out on the Fisherdale Road—a car and a buggy. Anna—”

  He stopped as Levi thudded down the stairs, followed by Barbara, voluminous in her nightgown. Mahlon came last, stumbling and rubbing his eyes.

  “Was ist letz?” Levi said, face white. “What’s the matter?”

  “It’s Anna.” Leah was astonished that the words came out so calmly. “An accident.”

  “How bad?” Mahlon clutched the railing, looking young and scared.

  She turned back to the officer.

  “Anna Beiler was injured,” he said stiffly. “And three other people were hurt, too. They’ve all been taken to the county hospital. I have instructions to drive you people there.”

  “How bad is she hurt?” she said again. Please, Lord, please don’t take our Anna away.

  His official mask slipped a little, and she saw the conscientious young man beneath it. “I don’t know, ma’am. Honestly. They didn’t tell me that. Just to break the news and drive you.” He glanced at her nightgown and then away. “I’ll wait while you folks dress and take you in.”

  “Ja. We all go,” Levi began, but Daadi shook his head at the words.

  “No, no. Leah will go with us, to talk to the doctors. She’ll understand better how to deal with them. Mahlon, you must hurry to tell Joseph, so they don’t hear from someone else. And Levi, you fetch Bishop Mose and ask him to come to the hospital.”

  Mahlon looked as if he’d argue for a moment, but then he nodded. He ran upstairs.

  “I’ll dress and then help Mamm—” Leah began.

  “I’ll do that,” Barbara said quickly. She gave her a gentle push. “You just get ready.”

  Nodding, Leah ran for the stairs, her mind spinning more rapidly than she could believe. She tried to grab on to something reassuring.

  Injured. Anna was injured. It might not be serious—maybe nothing more than a broken bone.

  And the others who were hurt—three, the policeman had said. What other families were getting a visit like this one right now?

  Praying, the words tumbling over one another in her haste, Leah pulled her clothes on, fumbling with the straight pins that secured her dress.

  Hurry, hurry. The words echoed to the thud of her heart. Hurry.

  In moments she was racing back down the stairs again. Mahlon and Levi had already hustled out the back toward the stable. Better, as Daad said, to send them off to tell folks—better that than have them all tripping over each other at the hospital, waiting, not knowing . . .

  Barbara came in with Mamm, and together they walked her out to the waiting police car. Barbara urged Mamm into the middle of the backseat, so that she’d have Daad on one side and Leah on the other.

  Leah shot her a look of thanks. Barbara had her faults, maybe, as they all did, but she was steady and calm in a crisis.

  The doors slammed, and the car pulled out. Mamm’s hand closed tightly over Leah’s. She wrapped it warmly in hers, wanting to say something encouraging, unable to think of anything.

  All she could think of was Anna—of all that bright, eager life tumbled into a ditch someplace in the wreckage of her buggy.

  Leah glanced toward the front of the police car. The dim lights on the dashboard showed her the young policeman’s profile, his hands on the wheel.

  “Do you know anything else about the accident? Were you there?”

  “No, ma’am, I wasn’t. All they told me was what I’ve told you.” They reached the road, and the vehicle seemed to spring forward. “We’ll be at the hospital in a few minutes, ma’am. The investigating officers will be there. They’ll be able to answer your questions.”

  The car passed the turnoff to the Glick farm, and she could see that the house was dark and still. Daniel would be a tower of strength at a time like this. But Daniel wasn’t there. Wouldn’t be there.

  Her father reached over to wrap his hands around theirs. “We must pray.”

  Nodding, Leah closed her eyes, letting the sound of her father’s voice roll over her as he led them in prayer for Anna.

  “The doctors are still running tests.” The emergency room nurse gave them a look of such sympathy that Leah’s courage failed her. She wouldn’t look that way unless it was serious.

  Please, Father. Give me Your strength, for I have none of my own.

  The Lord must have heard her, since she didn’t crumple to the tile floor, although her hands gripped the counter’s edge so hard that it cut into her fingers.

  “Can we see her?”

  The woman consulted her computer. “It looks as if she’s just been taken to a patient room. You can go up, and the doctor will tell you what they know so far.”

  Leah forced herself to ignore the stares of the English who sat in the waiting room. The nurse checked the room number and then pointed out the direction to the elevator. Putting her arm around her mother’s waist, Leah led the way.

  When they reached the proper floor, she had to urge Mamm forward out of the elevator. How long was Mamm going to be able to hold up? Her face was gray and drawn, and the hand that gripped Leah’s strained.

  She glanced at her father. Daad, always so strong and controlled, looked almost frail in this setting.

  My parents are old. The thought shocked her. They have grown old, and I didn’t notice.

  Leah checked the room numbers and led the way down the hall. As they neared the room, a doctor strode out and then stopped at the sight of them.

  “We are Anna Beiler’s family.” Leah spoke, because her parents seemed unable to do so. “Can you tell us how she is?”

  He shot a glance over his shoulder into the room and then turned back to them. “We’re still waiting for the results of some of the cranial tests we’ve run—an EEG, CAT scan . . .” He paused, looking at her doubtfully. “Do you understand what I mean?”

  It wasn’t the first time she’d encountered the assumption that the Amish were ignorant, and it probably wouldn’t be the last.

  “Yes, doctor. My sister has a head injury, and you are trying to determine the extent of the damage.”

  He nodded, looking relieved. “She’s unconscious but stable right now. We’re hoping surgery won’t be necessary, but a lot depends on the results we see and on how she does during the next few hours.”

  He stepped to one side, clearing the doorway for them.

  “You can go in and sit w
ith her. Don’t touch any of the equipment.”

  She bent her head in obedience and ushered Mamm and Daadi into the room.

  Anna lay in the high metal bed, as still as if she lay in her coffin. Her head was bandaged, her face scraped and bruised. Machinery hummed and buzzed, and what seemed like dozens of tubes snaked around her. A nurse in blue scrubs appeared to be checking a monitor.

  Leah felt her mother sag and grasped her waist, supporting her. “It’s all right, Mammi. Look, we’ll pull a chair over so you can sit right next to Anna.”

  The nurse gave a sympathetic smile and pushed a green plastic chair across the floor. “That’s right, honey,” she said. “Sit down right here. Don’t try to wake her, but you can talk quietly to her. It might comfort her to hear your voice.”

  Mamm, given something positive to do, straightened and walked to the chair. Leaning forward, hand on the bed as if she wanted to touch Anna but didn’t dare, she began to talk softly in the dialect that Anna would know, even if the nurse wouldn’t understand.

  Daad moved to the other side of the bed and clasped his hands, eyes closing, lips moving in prayer.

  The nurse gave Leah an assessing look. “You’ll make sure no one touches or bumps the equipment?”

  She nodded.

  “I’ll have a couple more chairs brought in for you.”

  “Is there anything else we can do?”

  The nurse shook her head. “Just wait, I’m afraid.” She glanced at Leah’s father. “And pray.” She went out, leaving the door open.

  The chairs arrived, and Leah persuaded Daadi to sit. Minutes ticked by. Anna didn’t move.

  Leah’s heart seemed almost too full to pray, and she struggled to find the words.

  Gracious Lord, extend Your hand to my little sister. Guide the doctors, and give her Your healing.

  Her hands clasped tightly together, and she began to murmur the words of the Twenty-third Psalm, reaching for the comfort of the familiar, beautiful words.

  Someone would come. Sometime, someone would come to tell them if Anna would live. If Anna would be whole again.

  Finally a footstep sounded in the hall outside the door. She glanced up to see a uniformed figure peering in—the township police chief, face somber. He caught her eye and gestured.

  With a murmured explanation, she went out to him, faintly relieved to see a face that was at least familiar. The People knew and respected Chief Walker—he was said to be both fair and kind.

  “Teacher Leah, I’m sorry for the trouble that’s come on you folks.” He pushed his hat back on his head, his lean, weathered face worried. “How is your sister doing?”

  “We don’t know anything yet. The doctors are waiting for some test results.”

  He nodded. “Well, that’s something. The other three young folks got off with minor injuries—a broken wrist, some cracked ribs.”

  She was ashamed to realize she hadn’t given them much thought. “I’m glad of that.”

  “The folks in the buggy got off light, too. Lucky to escape with bumps and bruises.”

  For an instant his words didn’t seem to register. She frowned, shaking her head a little. “I’m sorry, but what you do mean? Was someone in the buggy with Anna?”

  His face changed, and he looked at her with what must be pity. She seemed to freeze. Something bad was coming. She knew it as surely as she’d known there was trouble when she saw the lights.

  He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I thought you knew. Anna wasn’t in the buggy. Anna was driving the car.”

  An abyss seemed to open before her. She reached behind her for the stability of the wall, pressing her hand against it as she tried to make sense of this.

  “That . . . That can’t be. I’m sorry, but someone has gotten it wrong. Anna left home in her buggy.”

  He shook his head, sorrow carving deeper lines in his face. “I’m sorrier than I can say for this, but Anna wasn’t driving a buggy. I don’t know where she left it. She was behind the wheel of the car when it sideswiped the buggy.”

  Leah grasped for sanity in a world gone askew. “But she doesn’t know how. She doesn’t have a license. Who would let her drive a car?”

  “We both know she’s not the first Amish teen to drive a car. It belonged to one of the other kids, so I suppose he let her drive it. I haven’t gotten the whole story from the other teenagers yet, but you can be sure I’ll keep after them until I have the truth.”

  He was trying to reassure her, she supposed, but she still grappled to get her mind around it all. “The buggy—who was the family?”

  “Aaron Esch, his wife and two children. They live over toward Fisherdale. Not in your district, I guess, but I reckon you’d know them.”

  She nodded numbly. Before their district had gotten so large that it had to be split into two, the Esch family had been part of their church. Aaron was first cousin to Jonah Esch, whose children were her scholars.

  “They were all right, you said?” She grasped for something hopeful in this dreadful situation.

  He nodded. “Seems like Anna swerved, trying to avoid them, and lost control. The driver’s side hit a tree. She had the worst of it.”

  “Ja.” She glanced toward the room.

  “I’m awful sorry,” he said again. He shifted from one foot to the other. “I sure don’t want to add to your troubles, but . . . well, maybe you should think about hiring a lawyer for Anna.”

  A wave of dizziness swept over her, and she fought it off. She had to hang on. The family depended on her.

  She had to clear her throat before she could speak. “You know that it is not our way to go to the law.”

  “This time the law’s going to come to you, I’m afraid. It seems like Anna’s been doing a lot that’s not your way. Now, you know I’m not one to come down hard on Amish youngsters who are just having fun during their rumspringa. But this time folks got hurt.”

  Pain had a stranglehold on her throat. She forced out the words. “What will happen to Anna?”

  He shrugged. “Not really up to me. I just investigate it. The district attorney will have to decide whether he wants to prosecute.”

  Prosecute. The word had a terrifying sound.

  The chief patted her hand. “You take my advice and talk to your folks about getting a lawyer for Anna. That’s the best thing they can do right now.” He settled his hat firmly on his head and walked off toward the elevator.

  Leah sagged against the wall. She had to have a moment to gather herself before she could go back into the room. Had to think, had to decide.

  But she knew that no matter how long she thought, she wouldn’t come up with any satisfying way to tell her parents.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Daniel stepped off the elevator at the hospital. It wasn’t hard to figure out where to go—a waiting room was spilling folks out into the hallway, as most of the church district seemed to be here to give support to the Beiler family.

  That was the strength of being Amish. The People were always there for one another. Not saints, just ordinary folks with their share of faults, but when one was hurting, all were there to lend a hand.

  He halted in the doorway, returning muted greetings and nods as his gaze searched the room for Leah. There she was, making her way from one person to another, probably expressing her parents’ appreciation for their kindness.

  Bishop Mose Yoder clapped him on the shoulder, a smile lighting his gentle face. “Have you heard the good news? Anna has been waking up, even talking to her mamm and daad. Praise God, it looks as if she will be well.”

  “That is good news.” Daniel murmured a silent prayer. Both of them knew that even if Anna recovered physically, she’d have other troubles that needed praying for.

  His gaze followed Leah’s progress through the room. He’d had his final answer from her, but that didn’t keep him from wanting to help her, as a friend and a neighbor, if nothing more.

  She turned toward him, and he sucked in a sharp breath. Suffe
ring had drawn her skin taut. Her eyes were dark and shadowed with it, and she looked as if she couldn’t manage another word.

  He slid through the crowd and took her arm. “Komm,” he murmured, and led her out of the room, not caring what anyone thought of that.

  The hallway wasn’t much better, with people moving back and forth, soles squeaking on the tile floor. He steered her down the hall and around the corner. There was a small, empty room with benches, a sort of chapel, he supposed. He steered her inside and led her to a seat.

  She sank down with a sigh and then looked at him with a question in her eyes. “Did you need to talk with me, Daniel?”

  “Not as much as you needed to sit down and be quiet for a bit.”

  That startled the ghost of a smile from her. “They are being kind, but you’re right. It is tiring to keep saying the same things over and over.”

  “I won’t make you say them again to me, but I understand from Bishop Mose that Anna is waking up. That’s wonderful gut news.”

  Her eyes lightened. “It is. She knows us, that’s the important thing. The doctors say it looks as if she won’t have to have surgery.” She brushed away a tear that had spilled onto her cheek. “I know it’s foolish of me, but I can’t help wondering what people are saying about what she did.”

  He leaned toward her to take her hands in his. “It doesn’t matter,” he said firmly. “Whatever Anna did, once she confesses she will be forgiven and loved.”

  She nodded, her gaze downcast, as if she looked at their hands. “I know. Just as I know that everyone is helping. Mahlon told me that you’d been over to do the milking. Matthew, too.”

  “It’s gut for the boy. It helps him to remember what it means to be Amish.”

  If it made her feel better to talk about that, he would oblige, but he couldn’t help but see that thinking of Anna’s confession before the church distressed her.

  “The horse and buggy are back safe, too,” he went on. “One of the Esch boys showed up with them this morning.”

  “Ser gut,” she murmured, but he thought her mind was elsewhere.