The Mending

by Susan Lantz Simpson

Melvin turned to the doctor before they left. “Danki, Dr. Allan. We will be back tomorrow.”

  * * *

  Tears of relief and gratitude filled her eyes as Malinda bowed her head to offer a quick prayer of thanksgiving before she crawled into her bed. Timothy’s accident could have been so much worse. He could have had a head or back injury. He could have been paralyzed or even killed if that heavy cabinet had struck him just right.

  Ach! What would she have done then? She shuddered and sniffed hard. She couldn’t imagine that. She didn’t even want to try to imagine that because . . . because . . . A tear overflowed its banks. Because she loved him. For sure and for certain, she truly loved Timothy Brenneman. She wasn’t sure when or how it all had happened, but beyond the shadow of any doubt, she loved Tim with all her heart.

  Malinda wanted to laugh and twirl about. She wanted to shout out to the world that she totally loved Timothy, but one drawback sobered her in an instant. She dropped her head onto her folded arms and sighed. Timothy’s hand might be too damaged to create the magnificent pieces of furniture he built. Without exhibiting one single ounce of pride, Timothy had told her of his dreams to design and build furniture to meet the needs and desires of his Plain and Englisch customers. How would he do that if he couldn’t properly use that hand?

  Somehow she already sensed his withdrawal from her, in attitude if not in words. His concern for the other fellows and that cabinet let her know his mind was on work. She could understand that. She could also understand his worries over the use of his hand. That was only natural. But she knew Tim. She knew his thoughts the same as if she lurked inside his brain. If Tim couldn’t craft furniture, he’d be unable to earn a living. If he couldn’t earn a living, he couldn’t provide for a family. If he couldn’t provide, he couldn’t be a husband or a daed. He’d be useless. He would totally push her away to spare her. But Tim didn’t know what the future held.

  Oh my! Malinda jerked upright. That’s the very way she thought. She’d tried to push Timothy away because she believed that her illness limited her, that it would keep her from being a gut fraa or mamm. She couldn’t predict the future, either, but now she was absolutely certain she wanted that future to be with Timothy.

  Somehow she would have to get through to him. She needed to tell him how wrong she’d been to live her life according to what-ifs. No one had a guarantee. They could only take one day at a time and pack as much love into each day as they could. She would march right back into that hospital tomorrow and tell Timothy Brenneman she loved him and needed him.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  A gray day greeted Malinda when she ran down the steps toward the big, idling van. She greeted the driver before crawling into the backseat so Tim’s parents could have the second seat. She prayed it would be a gut day with gut news. She had, in fact, prayed all night, since sleep had eluded her until just before time to crawl out of her warm bed.

  “Did you get any sleep?” The driver’s eyes connected with Malinda’s in the rearview mirror.

  “Not a lot.” Malinda rubbed her eyes and pushed a wayward strand of hair beneath her black bonnet.

  “I’m sure Timothy will be fine. He’s a big, strong guy.”

  It was a blessing there was no sign Timothy had any brain injury. What concerned Malinda now was Timothy’s hand. What would happen if Timothy could no longer perform the job he enjoyed? Somehow, if necessary, she would find a way to help him deal with that.

  Timothy’s parents must have been watching for the van. As soon as it stopped beside their house, they ran out and climbed inside. One look at Fannie’s face told Malinda the older woman had gotten no more sleep than she had. Melvin looked only slightly better. Malinda prayed they would all feel relieved after seeing Timothy today and hearing whatever news the orthopedic doctor could give them.

  They tiptoed into Timothy’s room in case he was sleeping but found him sitting straight up in the bed with two pillows tucked behind his back. The IV tube still ran from the bag on the pole to Timothy’s uninjured arm. Dark circles rimmed his eyes, but he looked more alert. The squiggly lines across his forehead indicated he was stoically enduring the pain. Malinda let Tim’s parents enter the room first. Maybe the Brennemans would give her a little time alone with Tim in a while.

  “How are you feeling, son?” Fannie rushed to the bedside and pressed a slightly trembling hand against her son’s forehead. “Has the specialist been in yet? Can you move your fingers?”

  “Let him answer one thing before you ask another.” Melvin laid a hand on his fraa’s shoulder.

  Timothy raised his wrapped hand and dropped it back onto the bed with a grimace. “I don’t know much yet. They did more X-rays. The specialist hasn’t been in to tell me what she thinks.” Timothy’s eyes left his parents’ faces to shift to Malinda’s.

  “Hello, Tim.”

  “You came back?”

  “Of course. I told you I would.”

  “Let’s step out for a minute.” Melvin gave Fannie’s arm a tug.

  “He didn’t answer how he’s feeling,” Fannie protested.

  “I’m okay, Mamm.”

  “You don’t look okay.”

  “Kumm, fraa.” Melvin tugged again. He lowered his voice. “Let them talk a few minutes.”

  Fannie’s expression softened as if she suddenly realized Malinda was in the room with them. She nodded and followed Melvin to the door, offering Malinda a little smile on her way out.

  Malinda tiptoed closer to the bed. Why she tiptoed she couldn’t imagine, since it was plain to see Timothy was wide awake. “You’re in pain.”

  “Um, nee, um . . .”

  “You are. I see it in your eyes and your scrunched-up forehead.” Immediately Tim relaxed his facial muscles. Malinda chuckled. “You can’t fool me, Timothy Brenneman. I know you are hurting.”

  “Maybe, some . . .”

  “I’m sure it’s more than some. Aren’t you taking the pain medicine?”

  “I’m trying not to.”

  “Why? You don’t need to suffer with so much pain.”

  “It’s not so bad.”

  “Is that why you’re clenching your teeth—because it’s not so bad?”

  Timothy’s lopsided smile managed to unclench his jaw. “That medicine makes me all woozy and fuzzy-headed. I need to think.”

  “You need to think about resting and healing.”

  “I need to think about what I’m going to do if I can’t build furniture anymore. That’s all I know how to do.”

  “I’m sure you can do anything you set your mind on. That’s just the kind of person you are. Smart. Determined.”

  “Stubborn, you mean?”

  “Hmmm. Maybe a bit, but a gut kind of stubborn.”

  Timothy laughed out loud. “I didn’t know there were kinds of stubborn.” His mirth died quickly. “A person needs his hands to do most things in life, you know.”

  “Lucky for you, you have two of them.” Malinda wanted to keep Timothy smiling, but she understood his fear and worry.

  “One may not work right again.”

  “Aren’t you getting a little ahead of things?”

  “I need to figure out what to do.” With his good hand, Timothy bunched the stiff white sheet into his fist. The plastic IV tubing jiggled with each jerk of his arm. Malinda reached out to still his movement. “I know we don’t have any formal commitment, Malinda, but I want you to know you’re, um, free.”

  “Free?”

  “Free to, um, find someone else. Maybe you still have some feelings for Isaac.” Timothy stared at Malinda’s hand on top of his.

  “Timothy Brenneman, you look at me!”

  Timothy jumped at Malinda’s tone and jerked his eyes up to meet hers. His mouth formed a question, but no sound came out.

  “You know gut and well I don’t have any ‘feelings’ for Isaac Hostetler.” Malinda lowered her voice. “I only have ‘feelings’ for you.”

  “If I can’t work and support myself,
how could I support a fraa and a family?”

  “It seems to me you’re borrowing trouble. You don’t even know what the doctor will say.”

  “I can’t move my fingers.”

  “Look at them, Tim. They have a bandage around them and are very swollen. The accident only happened yesterday. You have to give it some time.”

  “If the specialist tells me . . .”

  “As my mamm always tells me, Gott’s grace is sufficient. Trust in Him.”

  “But I don’t expect you to take care of a crippled man.”

  “Didn’t you say you were willing to take care of me no matter what? You said even if my disease got worse or I had bad flare-ups or even needed surgery you would help me. Right? You said that didn’t matter, that vows were for sickness and health . . .”

  “Jah, I said those things.”

  “Didn’t you mean what you said?” Malinda’s eyes flooded with tears.

  “Of course I meant what I said. Please don’t cry, Malinda.” Timothy wiggled his uninjured hand to thread his fingers through Malinda’s.

  Malinda sniffed and squeezed her eyes shut in an effort to stanch the flow of unwanted tears. Timothy’s strong grip kept her from fleeing the room to cry in private. “W-well if you would stand by me, why wouldn’t I stand by you?” Malinda sniffed again. She hated the uncontrollable wobbling of her voice. She prayed the pain in her belly stemmed from the ball of nerves lodged there and not from the Crohn’s. She needed to be strong right now.

  “It’s a little different,” Timothy said after a seemingly interminable silence. “I’m supposed to be the breadwinner, the strong one.”

  “We would be a team, working together.” Malinda’s voice grew stronger and steadier. She had to get Timothy to listen to reason. “Besides, you will work again.”

  Timothy grunted as he attempted to lift his injured hand. “Really?”

  “I believe you will make furniture for the rest of your life if you want to,” Malinda said with all the conviction she could muster. “Have faith, Tim.”

  “You’ve prayed for your own healing and that hasn’t happened. What makes you think Gott will favor me with healing?”

  “I know I’ve been disappointed and frustrated and sometimes angry that the Lord Gott didn’t answer my prayers the way I wanted Him to. But maybe He has other plans for me. Maybe He has been trying to teach me to rely on Him. Or maybe I can use my illness to help someone else. After all this time, I think I finally know deep inside what Mamm and the apostle Paul knew all along. Gott’s grace is sufficient for me. Gott’s grace is sufficient for us, ain’t so?”

  “Do you truly believe that?”

  “Jah. Finally. If the Lord doesn’t have healing in store for me, I believe He will see me through any flare-up I may have. I trust Him to give me the strength to get through the hard times.”

  Timothy squeezed Malinda’s hand a little tighter. “Do you believe I would gladly care for you when you are sick and would help you any way I could without any qualms or complaints?”

  “Jah. Do you believe I would help you and care for you even if you could never make furniture again? You are the same Timothy no matter if you are a farmer, a furniture maker, or a shopkeeper. Who you are inside is what matters.”

  Tears shimmered in Timothy’s blue eyes. He blinked. “And you are the same Malinda whether you are sick or well, weak or strong. I love the Malinda inside and have loved you since you tagged along behind Sam and me. I didn’t even mind when you threw rocks in the pond and scared off all the fish.”

  “You l-loved me since then?”

  “Always.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything before?”

  “You needed time to find out what you wanted.”

  “What if Isaac and I . . .”

  “I loved you enough to want your happiness even if that was with someone else.” Timothy paused as if afraid to ask. “Did you love him?”

  “Nee! It was flattering to be asked to go for rides, but Isaac was not for me.”

  “Is there someone else you’d want to consider?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Not even a smart, well-to-do Englisch doctor?” Timothy offered a crooked little grin.

  “Timothy Brenneman! You know better!” Malinda tried to pull her hand from his grasp, but Timothy clung fast.

  “I just wanted to make sure.”

  Malinda poked her tongue out at Timothy, causing him to laugh out loud.

  “So even if I have to do some other kind of work and have limited use of my hand, you’ll stay, um, interested?”

  “More than just interested. Together we can weather whatever storms may kumm, ain’t so?”

  Timothy raised Malinda’s hand to his lips and pressed a feathery kiss on the back of it. He smiled his dazzling, heart-stopping smile and looked into Malinda’s eyes. “We can.”

  “Ahem!”

  Malinda snatched her hand away and jumped back from the bed. Heat seared her cheeks.

  “Sorry to interrupt.” Melvin shuffled into the room with Fannie right behind him. “The nurse said the specialist was on her way to talk to you.”

  Malinda’s heartbeat roared in her ears. Its thundering rivaled any saw, drill, or hammer in Swarey’s Furniture Shop. What would the doctor say? Would Timothy be able to bear the news? Would he be able to live up to the words he’d just uttered? Please, Lord, give us strength.

  “Everything will be all right,” she whispered. Timothy’s wink told her all she needed to know. He would accept and deal with whatever the outcome would be. Together they would face any challenge.

  Melvin fiddled with his black felt hat, turning it around and around in his hands until Fannie laid her hand on his arm. “Have you thought what you’ll do, Tim, if . . .”

  “I’ve been thinking of all sorts of things, Daed. I’ll trust the Lord Gott to lead me.” Timothy looked straight into Malinda’s eyes. His gaze was so intense Malinda felt he could see into her soul. A strange warmth raced through her veins, warming her from her head to her toes. Was this what people meant by finding a soul mate?

  Footsteps sounded in the hallway and stopped outside Timothy’s door. Malinda took a deep breath and scooted a little closer to Timothy so she could clasp his hand again.

  “Good morning, folks,” the tall, thin doctor called out before she even entered the room. Strands of her sandy hair escaped from a big, gold clip and fluttered over her shoulder. She wore street clothes, not hospital scrubs, beneath her white coat. “I’m Dr. Cline.” She held out a hand to each of them. “I’ve been going over your X-rays and scans, Timothy.”

  Malinda sucked in a breath and held it. She could see that Timothy did the same thing. She prayed the news would be positive.

  “From what I can see right now,” Dr. Cline continued, “they look like clean breaks here and here.” The doctor pointed to bones along the top of Timothy’s hand. “These fingers also have simple fractures.” She indicated the index and middle fingers.

  “What does a simple fracture and a clean break mean?” Fannie asked the question that whirled through Malinda’s brain.

  “It means the bones should heal just fine without surgery. I’ll need to align them properly and cast the hand. I’ll also want you to go to physical therapy once the cast comes off.”

  “So I will be able to use my hand normally?” Timothy’s grasp on Malinda’s hand tightened.

  “You may have some residual pain and stiffness for a little while, but the therapy should help with that. If all goes well—and I’m anticipating it will—you will be building furniture again before you know it.”

  Malinda blew out the breath she’d been holding. “Wunderbaar news, Tim.” Her broad smile matched Timothy’s. “Danki, Gott.”

  “After you are discharged today, you will need to come to my office so I can properly cast your hand,” Dr. Cline said. “I’ll tell my staff to work you in when you get here.”

  Fannie hugged her son before she and Melvi
n followed the doctor out of the room.

  Timothy tugged on Malinda’s hand. “Why the tears?”

  Malinda used the back of her free hand to swipe across her damp cheeks. “Tears of happiness. The Lord answered our prayers.”

  “He did, for sure. He always answers.”

  “Sometimes the answer isn’t what we would like, but He does answer,” Malinda agreed.

  “Do you feel sad or angry that He answered this way for me, but you still have your disease?”

  “I used to feel envious when other people experienced healing or when they seemed to get everything they wanted. But now I know Gott knows best. Of course, I’d like to be well, but I can deal with my illness with His help.”

  “And my help?”

  “And with your help. Gott’s grace truly is sufficient. His love and your love are all I need.”

  Epilogue

  Fall nipped at summer’s heels before August even ended. Malinda didn’t mind one bit. In fact, she scarcely noticed the cool breeze that tickled the little hairs on the back of her neck. Her focus rested entirely on the tall, blond man walking beside her along the wooded path.

  She stepped briskly, even though Timothy had shortened his stride so she wouldn’t have to run to keep up. But she felt like she could run one of the Englischers’ marathons. She’d had no severe or even moderate flare-ups in a long while. She felt strong and happy. Of course, the young man beside her had a lot to do with that happiness.

  Tim had worked so hard during his weeks of physical therapy, pushing himself harder than the therapists demanded. Once the doctor told Timothy a full recovery was possible with hard work, he threw himself into making that happen. He performed his strengthening and stretching exercises at home daily. Malinda knew he’d set his mind on regaining full use of his hand and would accept nothing less, no matter how many times she assured him her love did not depend on his recovery. But she fully believed Timothy Brenneman could do anything he put his mind to. He’d returned to Swarey’s Furniture Shop, working on what he called easy projects, but he said he was ready for more challenging assignments.

  Malinda knew she was not supposed to be prideful, but she couldn’t help feeling a teensy bit proud of Timothy’s progress. The Lord Gott had been so gut to them. They’d both made great strides, but not only in their health. Their faith in Gott and in each other had grown tremendously. Weathering their medical storms had drawn them even closer, so that their love had deepened and strengthened.