“Did you want to check on them?”
“I will in a few minutes.”
“I’ll walk out with you.”
Malinda shrugged as if to say, Suit yourself, but headed toward the barn.
Timothy stopped her with a hand on her arm. “What happened, Malinda? Please tell me what’s wrong.”
Malinda slid her arm from beneath Timothy’s hand. “I’ve already told you. Nothing is wrong.” She set off for the barn at a brisk pace.
“I’m no mind reader, Malinda, but I believe I know you well enough to tell when something is not right. Did the doctor do or say something that upset you?”
“Of course not.”
Malinda’s reply came too snappy for Tim to believe the sincerity of it. He’d never believe Malinda would out-and-out lie, but there was definitely something she didn’t want to share, something that had put her out of sorts. She turned around and walked the few steps back to where Timothy was still standing. She looked up at him with those dark, doe-like eyes and smiled slightly. “Dr. McWilliams just reminded me of a very unpleasant time that I’ve tried to put behind me.”
“I can understand that, but Malinda, we all get sick sometimes. These human bodies don’t always operate as we want them to or expect them to.”
“I know that, Tim. I’m trying very hard to accept that I have a chronic disease the Lord Gott has not seen fit to take away. It seems this is a cross He wants me to bear.”
“The Lord’s ways are often mysterious to us, but I’m sure He has a purpose and a plan.”
“I suppose. Let’s go see the kittens.”
* * *
Malinda proceeded slightly ahead of Timothy toward the barn. Had she convinced him that everything was all right? She doubted it. Somehow Timothy seemed more in tune with her mood and feelings than anyone else she knew, except maybe her mamm. With any luck, the kittens would provide enough distraction to make Timothy abandon his inquisition.
“Are the kittens with their mamm, Aden?” The brightness in her voice sounded phony even to Malinda’s own ears. Over her shoulder, she said to Tim, “They’ve just started wandering around a bit away from their mamm.”
“Here’s the little tiger,” Aden announced, holding the little ball of fuzz beneath his chin.
“We have a tiger-striped kitten like the mamm, two black-and-white kittens, and one kind of tortoiseshell kitten. Aren’t they all adorable?” Malinda bent to lift the tiny tortoiseshell kitten and raised it to her cheek. “I think this one is my favorite.” She knew she was babbling, but couldn’t seem to stop. Sometimes when she was nervous, her mouth ran away with itself.
Timothy reached out to stroke the kitten Malinda was cuddling and inadvertently touched her cheek. An electric current shot from her face down to her toes, and her heart thumped in double time. Her eyes flew to Timothy’s face and were held captive by his blue gaze. No more prattle issued from her lips. He stared back at her as if he was equally captivated.
The crunch of gravel beneath buggy wheels broke the spell binding Timothy and Malinda. She gently set the kitten by its mamm and instructed Aden to return his kitten. “They probably need to eat now. See, the other two are nursing.”
Aden settled the tiger-striped kitten with its siblings and raced toward the barn door. “Maybe Ray will play with me.”
Malinda smiled. “I thought you were tired.” Malinda shook her head. Perhaps now that her family had arrived home, Timothy would be distracted and forget all about Dr. McWilliams’s visit. She wished she could forget it, too.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Fall marched on toward winter. The magnificent crimson, gold, and orange leaves had trickled from the trees like raindrops from a big, black cloud. Each gust of wind sent a new cascade tumbling to the ground. Before long, naked branches would stretch out and scratch the winter sky.
Malinda hopped from her bed to the throw rug most mornings now to avoid placing her bare feet on the cold wood floor. Most of the canning and preserving had been completed for the season, and an extra-thorough fall cleaning had been under way. Since Sam and Emma had finally been published, their upcoming wedding meant an extra flurry of activity. Several couples had already married, but Sam and Emma would be married later in November. No doubt out-of-town guests would stay with them, so Mamm would want everything in the house to be shipshape.
Half-frozen fingers made getting dressed and pinning up her hair difficult tasks. Malinda wiggled her fingers a few times to erase the stiffness. If she could put on a few more pounds, she might have some insulation from the cold, but lately her appetite had waned even more. Stress wreaked havoc with her sensitive intestines. She’d had no further correspondence from Todd McWilliams or Nurse Trudy, but somewhere deep inside, Malinda knew she hadn’t heard the last from them.
Malinda hurried downstairs to help Mamm get breakfast on the table and lunches packed, and to get warm. She cracked one egg after another into the big ceramic bowl and thought of Timothy as she whisked them with salt, pepper, and milk. The mixture hissed when it hit the hot cast-iron skillet coated with bacon grease. She stirred briskly to keep the eggs from sticking.
Timothy had been so patient and understanding. She knew he wanted their relationship to move forward at a faster pace, but he didn’t try to rush her. Her heart wanted to follow Timothy’s lead with a quickness, but her head continued to apply the brakes. Thankfully, he had not returned to the subject of Todd McWilliams, and she had done her best not to appear distracted or worried. In truth, though, she was both.
The intestinal discomfort she’d been feeling for the past two days blossomed into a sharp pain. She snatched the skillet from the heat and plunked it down on a hot pad lying on the counter. She felt hot and cold at the same time. With a groan, she clutched her midsection and bolted from the room.
“Malinda? Are you all right?” Saloma called after her.
Malinda didn’t dare stop to answer. Another flare-up! And she’d taken her medication as prescribed and always chose her foods carefully. Still the ugly monster returned. Unbidden tears coursed down her cheeks. Tears of pain, tears of frustration, tears of hopelessness. Please, Lord Gott, if You won’t take this sickness away, help me bear it. And please don’t let this time be as bad as the last one.
Weak and exhausted, Malinda knew she had to try to remedy her red, puffy eyes before she returned to the kitchen. She splashed cold water on her face over and over and patted her face dry. That was the best she could do. No amount of pinching or rubbing her cheeks would remove her pallor. She wobbled back to the kitchen and tried to paste a pleasant expression on her face.
“Malinda?” Saloma wiped her hands on a dish towel and took a step toward her dochder.
“I’ll be all right.” She grabbed Saloma’s hand before it reached her forehead to check for a fever.
“Go lie down, dear. I can handle this.” Saloma had, in fact, finished preparing breakfast and had begun filling the lunch boxes.
“I want to keep busy.” Malinda shuffled to the counter and tossed shiny, red apples into each box. She filled small plastic bags with homemade peanut butter cookies. Saloma wrapped thick meat-and-cheese sandwiches in wax paper and laid them on top of the other lunch items. At the sound of clomping feet, Malinda carried plates of food to the table. She tried not to inhale too deeply. Smells sometimes triggered nausea, and she didn’t want to race from the room again. She didn’t set a plate for herself.
“Can’t you try to eat something?” That worried frown ran across Saloma’s forehead again.
“Maybe later. I’ll drink something, though.” She had to make herself drink. She couldn’t let herself get dehydrated and end up in the hospital.
* * *
The day had been longer than long. Malinda had done her best to stay busy and out from under her mamm’s watchful eye. She knew Saloma counted each of Malinda’s many flights down the hall to the bathroom. Malinda forced down fluids all day but could not coax solid food past her lips. She manag
ed to sit through the evening meal only pretending to eat, sure she wasn’t fooling anyone. She felt weaker than a newborn kitten, but refused to complain or shirk her duties.
A tap at the door as she carried her plate to the kitchen made Malinda want to weep. She prayed the visitor would be someone for her daed or one of her bruders. She didn’t see how she could possibly endure an evening sitting with guests, yet she couldn’t be rude and disappear into her room, no matter how much she yearned to do just that.
“Hello, Malinda. How are you feeling?”
Malinda turned from scraping her plate into the scrap bucket to face the owner of that deep voice she knew so well. Sam stood slightly behind Timothy, unable to conceal the sheepish look that had spread across his face. “Hi, Tim. I’m okay.”
“Sam mentioned you weren’t feeling well at lunchtime today, so . . .”
“Did you take an ad out in the Budget, too, Sam?” Malinda plunked the plate on the kitchen counter none too gently and, with fists on her hips, glared at her bruder.
“I just mentioned it in passing.” Sam attempted to defend himself.
“I’m sorry if I upset you by stopping by, Malinda. I only wanted to make sure you were all right.”
Malinda blew out the breath she’d been holding and let her anger ride out on the air. She didn’t want to make Tim or Sam feel bad for caring about her. She simply hated being the focus of attention. She hated being a bother to anyone. She hated having a disease that made life miserable. But she had no right taking her frustration out on others and making them miserable as well.
“I’m sorry for snapping at you.” Malinda laid a hand on Timothy’s arm. “And you, too, Sam. I appreciate your concern, but I don’t want to be a bother.”
“You are never a bother.” Timothy’s blue eyes bore into Malinda’s. He took a tiny step closer. Sam used the opportunity to slip from the room. He must have asked Mamm to wait to clean up, since no one else entered the kitchen.
“If I cause you concern, then I’m a bother.” Malinda whirled around, not wanting Timothy to glimpse the tears that sprang into her eyes. She reached out to pick up the plate she had been scraping when a hand clamped down, fingers completely encircling her wrist. She gasped and looked over her shoulder.
“Kumm outside with me,” Timothy urged.
“I-I need to clean up.”
“It can wait a few minutes. Please?”
Malinda nodded her head. She grabbed a shawl from the peg near the door and let Timothy lead her down the back steps and away from the house. If he hadn’t kept a hand on her arm to steady her, she wasn’t sure she’d have had the strength to put one foot in front of the other.
Her breath was coming out in little huffs and puffs by the time Timothy stopped walking halfway between the house and barn. Surely no one would overhear them now, except for any deer that ventured toward the few remaining plants in the garden. As chilly as the evenings had become, frost would soon claim the broccoli, greens, and pumpkins. A little shiver washed over her body, leaving goose bumps in its wake.
“Ach, you’re cold. I’m sorry, Malinda. I wasn’t thinking about how cool the evenings are now. Maybe we should go back inside.” He tugged on her arm to lead her back to the house.
“I’ll be okay. It was hot in the kitchen anyway.” She pulled her arm from Timothy’s grasp so he wouldn’t feel her trembling when what she really wanted to do was throw herself into his arms and have him reassure her everything would be all right. But Timothy couldn’t make that promise.
He cleared his throat. Malinda heard his pensive sigh. He seemed to be grappling with his thoughts. Gently he tilted her chin so she had to look at him in the waning light of dusk. “I have told you before, Malinda. You could never be a burden or a bother. Please don’t think of yourself that way.”
“Look at me, Timothy. I’m sick. I’m having another flare-up. I never know what will happen. I try so hard to do everything right, but I still get sick.” Malinda faced Timothy as if in a showdown, hands curled into fists, fingernails digging into her palms. She barely kept from stomping a foot, more in frustration than in anger.
“I’m guessing you still did all or most of your chores today, ain’t so?”
Confused, Malinda’s brow wrinkled. “Well, jah, but what does . . .”
Timothy held up a hand as if stopping a runaway horse. “Even though you didn’t feel well, you weren’t—as you seem to think—useless. I’m sure you did a lot.”
Malinda considered her day. “I guess I did most of my usual chores, but Timothy, sometimes I feel worse and can’t do much more than lie in bed.” And run to the bathroom.
“So what if a few chores don’t get done? They will be there when you feel better or someone else can pick up the slack.”
“That’s just it. I don’t want someone else to have to do my work or to take care of me.”
“Then you don’t give someone else the chance to serve the Lord Gott by helping you.”
“Huh?”
“Doesn’t Gott want us to serve Him and to help others?”
“That’s what I’ve always believed.”
“Don’t you try to help others?”
“Of course. Whenever I can.”
“Maybe it is Gott’s will for someone to help you at the times you’re feeling poorly. Maybe that someone is unable to serve Gott because you won’t allow him or her to help.”
“That doesn’t make . . .”
Timothy held up his hand again and interrupted before Malinda could complete her sentence. “Before you say that doesn’t make sense, think about it. Really think.”
Malinda nodded. She allowed Timothy to take her cold hands and rub them between his, a simple gesture that warmed her body and soul.
“When people care about others, they want to help them.” Timothy’s voice was whisper-soft.
“I can understand that, but I’m sure it gets to be a nuisance after a while. Even the most generous caregivers get tired and aggravated with the disruption in their lives and routines.”
“They may get tired, but not tired of helping or caring.” Timothy gave her hands a gentle squeeze.
“I-I better go inside.” Malinda felt on the verge of tears, and the pain in her gut threatened to cut her in half. She tried to pull her hand away, but Timothy held fast.
“I’ll walk with you.”
Malinda used every ounce of strength and willpower she possessed to walk upright rather than hunched over in pain.
“You’re hurting now, ain’t so?”
Malinda nodded.
Timothy slowed his steps and wrapped an arm around Malinda to lend support.
Malinda resisted at first but then acquiesced and leaned into Timothy’s strength. Please, Lord, take this pain away, or at least let me get inside before the situation gets worse and I embarrass myself or Timothy.
Lamplight spilled out of the windows as they drew near the house. When they reached the back door, Timothy leaned down to whisper, “Think about what I said, Malinda. And remember, I care and I really want to help.” His warm breath tickled her ear and raised a new crop of goose bumps. She nearly forgot her pain when Timothy pressed his lips to her forehead in a feathery kiss.
* * *
By the next afternoon, Saloma had raced to the nearest phone to call Dr. Nelson. Malinda had crawled from her bed at her usual early hour and had helped get everyone else fed and out the door. Once again, she simply sipped hot herbal tea and skipped solid food. She’d begun to tackle her morning chores, but weakness caused her to drop onto a living room chair. At Saloma’s insistence, she returned to her room and curled up in her bed. Tears leaked from her eyes as she prayed Dr. Nelson wouldn’t ask her to go to his office or, worse yet, the hospital. “See, Timothy,” she whispered to the empty room. “I’m not fit for anything.”
In her head, she knew the flare-up wouldn’t last forever, but right now she couldn’t see any end in sight. She would never be able to manage a household like this. S
he could barely take care of her own needs. Frustration washed over her, and she allowed herself to wallow in self-pity. How could I take care of a home and kinner like this? How could I cook and clean and garden and do all the other things I’d need to do to run my own home? Will I always have to rely on Mamm to take care of me like a boppli?
Malinda uncurled from the fetal position she’d assumed and sat straight up on her bed. Dizziness assailed her at her quick change in position. She would have to start eating or she would continually grow weaker. She also needed to stop feeling sorry for herself. There were a lot of people much sicker than she was. Some suffered every single day, with no respite from pain. She had to calm down and stop worrying that Todd McWilliams would contact her again. Stress did not help her condition one little bit. It may have even triggered this flare-up.
She closed her eyes and conjured up a picture of the Wicomico River on a lazy summer Sunday. Sometimes several families would pack buggies with a picnic lunch and head for the river. She inhaled to a count of three and slowly exhaled, imagining her stress floating out with her breath.
Malinda shuffled to the bathroom to splash water on her face. She tucked loose tendrils of hair into place and straightened her clothes. She tried to keep the picture of the river in the forefront of her mind as she made her way to the stairs. With one hand on her midsection and the other grasping the handrail, she cautiously descended the steps.
“I thought you were staying in bed.”
Malinda gasped. The hand on the banister flew to her chest to pat her thumping heart.
“You scared me half to death, Mamm. When did you get back?”
“Just now. I thought you were resting.”
“I need to be doing something. What did Dr. Nelson say?”
“I wrote down some adjustments to your medicines. He said to try that and the usual remedies you’ve already tried. He said if you can’t eat or drink, you will have to go to the hospital for fluids.”
“Nee. Not the hospital. I have been drinking. I’m going to try to eat right now.”
“What do you feel like trying?” Saloma started for the kitchen.
The Mending Page 17