Loving And Letting Go: An Amish Christian Romance

by Melanie Schmidt

  LOVING AND LETTING GO

  by

  MELANIE SCHMIDT

  OTHER BOOKS

  Forgiving and Learning to Love

  A Perfect Love

  or

  Save Big! Grab the 'A Perfect Love Box Set' Bundle With All 3 Stories For Less Than The Price of 2!

  Loving and Letting Go. 1st Edition Copyright © Melanie Schmidt Publishing 2013. All Rights Reserved.

  Book Formating Services Provided by Brad Wilson KBG Authors Ecosystem

  This book is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locations are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity, and are used fictitiously. All other characters, and all incidents and dialogue, are drawn from the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. No part of this document may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, either by electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is for a reviewer who may quote brief passages in the review. This publication is presented to you for informational purposes only and is not a substitution for any professional advice.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 1

  It was nigh on winter when John Beiler's mental health deteriorated to the point that he had become a danger to himself and to Rebecca Zook. He had stopped taking his medications and his schizophrenia had come to control his thoughts and actions. Two sheriff's cars drove him to the mental hospital in the next town, with his mamm and daed riding along so he could be involuntarily committed and treated.

  Rachel Beiler decided that the cold, cloudy weather was appropriate after having to readmit John to the mental hospital. Looking at Amos, her husband, she saw that he felt much the same way.

  "Wife, I feel... defeated right now. We thought we were doing everything right, but then John stopped taking his medications," said Amos, pacing from the kitchen to the living room, where he peered out the window at the dark, lowering clouds.

  "Ya, husband, I know. I feel the same way. We did see John struggling with his thoughts and beliefs. I only wish..." she said, sighing deeply.

  "What? What do you wish?"

  "That he had been able to come to us, but his illness makes him think... that we're the enemy," Rachel said, beginning to cry.

  Amos veered from his pacing, coming over to Rachel and slipping his arms around her as her forehead came to rest on his shoulder.

  "Shoosh, wife. We did the best we could with the little we know. We are going to talk to Dr. Jackson and ask him about everything we need to know. This way, when John comes out of the hospital, we are ready for anything that could happen," Amos said decisively.

  "Ya, denki," Rachel said, wiping her eyes. "I should make something for our supper."

  "I will be in the barn, making repairs to equipment," Amos said. Instead, once he was safely past the barn's door, he dropped his brave front and broke into deep sobs that seemed to come straight from his heart. After several minutes of this crying, he let out a deep sigh and wiped his eyes and cheeks dry, muttering to himself.

  "Well, there's nothing I can do now, but try to make Rachel and I feel a little better. I should give the doctor a call now so we can start learning how to avoid these situations in the future."

  Ten minutes later, Amos hung up feeling marginally better - he and Rachel were to visit the hospital and, and possibly John, so they could start learning how to avoid any future mental meltdowns. He tucked the piece of paper into his jacket pocket, with one corner sticking out so he would remember to tell Rachel.

  At the hospital, John began coming out of a drug-induced haze. Opening his eyes a little wider, he looked around him and tried to pull his arms closer to him - he seemed to be attached to something. Squeezing his eyes shut and opening them so they would focus, John looked more closely at his wrists. He had been restrained to the bed. Groaning, he let his head drop back onto the pillow.

  His door opened, revealing the tall, spare form of his psychiatrist, Dr. Jackson.

  "Well, John, you landed back in the hospital. Can you tell me what happened?" the doctor asked, twirling a chair around and sitting in it so the back was in front of him.

  "Doctor. I - stopped taking my medicines."

  "Why?"

  "They were supposed to make me... make me stop loving Rebecca Zook," John said, nonsensically.

  "Oh, really? I was under the impression they were intended to keep you from landing back here in the middle of a mental health crisis," the doctor said, semi-sarcastically.

  "Doctor, that's really what I started to think. I... I couldn't find her in Peace Crossing. Nobody would tell me why she wasn't attending church meetings or nothing. I had to start looking for her. I wanted to make sure she was OK. Then, I started to think she was hiding from me because - "

  "Because?" Doctor Jackson asked, twirling his hand and indicating that John should continue.

  Instead, John flushed, a deep red. "Doctor, you're going to think I'm crazy..."

  "No. Your thinking's crazy when you're off your meds. That's why you're here. We're going to start you back on them, but I'm going to order a change in how you take them."

  John looked at his doctor, feeling apprehension gathering in his gut.

  "Oh? How?"

  "Injections. It's clear that you weren't compliant - obedient - in taking your medications by mouth. Were you cheeking them?"

  "Huh? What's that?" John asked. He was genuinely confused by the term.

  "Cheeking? That's when you shove your pills to the side of your mouth, between your cheek and gums, take a swallow of water, then spit the pills out."

  "...Oh." John couldn't lie, although he desperately wanted to. "Ya, I did. I didn't want my mamm knowing I wasn't taking them."

  "All the more reason for monthly injections. It'll mean coming here once a month with one of your parents to get the shots, but if it keeps you out of here... seems it's worth it if it means staying healthy. But that's just me," said the doctor.

  "What... what will the shots make me feel like?" John began to slur his words as the extreme sleepiness began overtaking him.

  "You'll have some of the same symptoms, but they'll go away after a day or two. In between shots, once the side effects stop, you'll pretty much be as you are now. Except, you could develop something called 'tardive dyskinesia.' That's when some of your muscles move even when you don't make them move. I can prescribe something to stop that, though. But you are going to take injections. I hate to say this, but because you stopped taking your medications, I can't trust you."

  "Oh..." John's eyes slipped shut and he knew only blackness once more.

  "And, when you wake up again, we're going to discuss a therapist so you begin to learn that others have rights," the doctor muttered to himself, standing and leaving John's room.

  Back in Peace Crossing, Amos decided he needed to visit Deacon Zook and let him know what had happened.

  "So, he's back in the hospital. We're seeing his doctor tomorrow to learn how to handle his illness better so this won't happen again. If you think it's safe, you might be able to tell Rebecca to come out of hiding," Amos said, feeling apologetic for the situation his lack of attention had caused.

  "Amos, don't feel bad. We don't know how to handle mental illness. He's in the best place possible. It is a good idea to find out how to keep him taking his medications, though, so he doesn't end up back in the hosp
ital when he could be healthy here at home," said Abraham, raising his bushy eyebrows at Amos.

  "Ya. Denki for that. We need to find out how to make him take his medicine, that is for sure! Hopefully, once he's back to normal - well, as normal as a man with schizophrenia can be -Rebecca and the rest of Peace Crossing can feel safe again."

  "Denki for telling me," Abraham said, a smile crinkling his kind face. Empathy for Amos flashed in his eyes. After Amos had left, Abraham sat at the table, sipping his coffee.

  "Barbara, I'm going to go to Ephrata and pick Rebecca up. It's long past time for her to be back with her mamm and daed," Abraham said with a smile.

  "Oh, thank God! Ya. I have missed that girl. I'll make a good, hot meal for her return," Barbara said, beaming with happiness.

  The following day, Amos and Rachel drove by buggy to the hospital. In the doctor's office, they told him they had been completely unaware that John had stopped taking his medications.

  "Doctor, I watched him take them, swallow them with his water. You're telling me he didn't swallow them? I never saw any of them sitting in the trash can," Rachel said, confused and hurt.

  "Mrs. Beiler, I'm not blaming you. You did everything you knew to do at the time. His schizophrenia and disordered thinking took over. I asked John why he stopped taking them. His answer was indicative of how his mental illness affects his ability to think rationally. He said he thought they were meant to make him stop loving this girl named Rebecca," the doctor explained, moving from behind his desk and turning an office chair around. He crossed his arms and put them on top of the chair's back as he watched the Beilers.

  "Oh. He said he needed to find out why she was hiding from him," Rachel remembered.

  "That's one thing I need to discuss with you before you go to see him today. First, I've decided we need to change how he takes his medications." Dr. Jackson gazed seriously at his young patient's parents. Looking out his office window, he saw the snow drifting slowly down.

  "Is there another way we can give him his medications? Other than pills?" Amos asked. He began feeling more hopeful.

  "There is. He - and you - would have to visit the hospital once a month so we could inject him with the medications. These injections are long-lasting in his body, providing his brain with the chemical it's been missing. When he has enough of this brain chemical, he thinks rationally. He won't fall apart and he won't be a danger to you - or to this Rebecca." As he finished speaking, the doctor raised his eyebrows significantly and nodding.

  "Shots! I would have never thought..." Rachel said. She, too, began feeling much more hopeful.

  "What is this other thing you need to discuss with us?" Amos asked, feeling more relaxed. If there are more solutions out there, we might actually be able to live as a family.

  "Weekly therapy. At first, I'd want him to come here. I'm aware that you come from about an hour by buggy from here. I can find a well-qualified therapist who can drive to Peace Crossing and meet with him. The therapy is intended to help him understand just how faulty his past assumptions have been and how they put others in danger. Can you tell me about this Rebecca who has so impressed him?" Doctor Jackson gave in to his curiosity. He needed to know more about why John had fixated on her.

  "She is a girl he wanted to court. He went with her to one youth event, then he started to follow her and watch everything she was doing. It rightfully scared her and everyone else in our district. She went into hiding and refused to leave the house as long as she knew he was still stalking her. When she found out he had been stalking her, she refused to court him any more," Amos said.

  "By some chance, did he think that she was going behind his back and doing wrong?" The look in the doctor's eyes was very sharp.

  "Yes! He thought she was acting in a way not indicative of a good Amishwoman," Amos said. He was surprised that Doctor Jackson could figure John's thought patterns out so accurately.

  "Oh, don't be surprised, Mr. Beiler. I've been working with the mentally ill for over fifteen years. Nothing surprises me any more. I'm just grateful we were able to help you help John before he did anything."

  Rachel, hearing these last words, shivered in apprehension.

  "I can't blame Rebecca for going into hiding," she said, rubbing her hands over her arms.

  "OK, why don't I take you to see your son? I have another appointment coming up. I'll send a letter to you about the medications, as well as about the therapy and therapist. You can expect that by the end of this week or beginning of the next," said the doctor, standing and scooting the chair back.

  In John's room, they found him standing at his window, watching the snow fall.

  "John, how are you today?" Rachel asked. Feeling apprehensive after the last time she'd seen him, she paused at a distance from him.

  "I am feeling better, mamm. My thinking is much clearer. I'm sorry for anything I did before they brought me here," John said slowly. His speech was somewhat slowed, which was one effect of the injections he had taken.

  "You are forgiven, son. I do know that you stopped taking your medication. I hope you'll realize that it's meant to help you, not hurt you," Rachel said, walking rapidly to his side and taking his wrist in her hand.

  "Mamm, what do you know about me taking my medications in injections?" John wore a worried expression on his face as he thought about the prospect.

  "All I know is that we would bring you here once a month to get the shots. Your brain is missing a chemical that allows you to think clearly and rationally, John. The medicine only puts that chemical back in there. It doesn't do anything bad to you," Rachel said. As she spoke, she looked into John's gray eyes. They were returning to their formerly alert state. She looked for any signs of the madness that had managed to overtake him once again. Seeing none, she took him into a heartfelt hug meant to convey her love and forgiveness.

  John, feeling her arms around him once again, felt a sob welling in his throat. It broke out in a huge gulp of air and tears began to fall down his face.

  "Mamm, daed, I'm so sorry for what I tried to do! I don't want to hurt her. I don't want to hurt anyone. I just..." John broke off, wiping his face. "Just don't know what keeps happening to me!"

  "Son, you're going to be getting therapy. Dr. Jackson was telling us that you're going to start working with a therapist who will help you to understand how your thinking wasn't rational. You'll learn how to understand your condition," Amos said, putting one hand on John's pajamaed shoulder.

  "Ya, he told me this morning after breakfast. I want to get well as fast as possible, mamm. The cooking here is awful!" John said with a speaking grimace on his face. "The food has no flavor!"

  Rachel laughed, feeling thankful. Her son hadn't lost his sense of humor.

  "Ya, get well as fast as you can, son. Your daed needs you at home and your carpentry work needs finishing," she said, wiping the tears from John's face.

  "John, we will bring you to town as often as we have to. We can work around that, so don't worry. We just want you to stay well and not have to come back here." Amos paced around the small room, wanting to say so much more to his son.

  "I've been thinking of that, daed. I don't want to come back again, either. I don't know why I allowed my condition to make me think my medication was doing bad things to me. I talked with the doctor and he told me that I scared everyone -I never wanted to do that. I only wanted to see if I could control my sickness by myself. I know now that I can't. I don't like the idea of taking medicine for the rest of my life. But, if not taking it means being in here..." John swept his hand around his tiny room. "Then, I would rather take them if it means I can think and behave normally."

  "Good! Wunderbaar! That's how you should have been thinking all along! Thank God you are making progress!" Rachel was practically jumping in place as she looked at John.

  "John, the doctor will be sending a letter to us soon. He's going to tell us more about these injections and about your new therapist. Now, I don't know how long you will b
e here. If it's anything like last time, they will have to work with the dosages of your medicines, so don't expect to come home right away, understand?"

  "Ya. I know. The weather's getting worse. Did you come here in the buggy?" asked John, indicating the worsening snowfall.

  "Ya. Rachel, we'd better go so we don't get stuck. John, we love you and, as soon as we can come, we will," Amos promised, placing a hand on both John's and Rachel's shoulders.

  After his parents had left, John felt sad, knowing it could be days before they would return. He slipped into bed, just wanting to sleep until his sadness had gone away - but his doctor had other ideas.

  "John, Dr. Jackson wants you to go to his office. He wants to talk to you," the beefy nurse said as she held the door wide open. "Come on, John. Robe and slippers on and let's get to his office."

  John sighed, feeling unaccountably close to tears.

  "Nurse, can we just go later on? My parents just left and I don't know..."

  "When you'll see them again? Come on, sweetie. All the more reason to talk to him now. The more he sees of your true feelings, the better he can help you - and the sooner you can get out of here and away from hospital food," said the perceptive nurse.

  John opened his eyes and peered at her in shock. He tossed his covers back, pushed his feet into his slippers, and pulled his robe over his shoulders.

  "OK. If only for that, I'm going," he said.

  "I hope you had a good visit with your parents before the weather forced them to leave," said Doctor Jackson.

  "Ya, but I miss them already. I never knew how bad that could get..." John said, breaking off before he began to cry.

  "That's part of why I wanted to see you right now. I asked Cathy to bring you here when your parents left. John, we can only guess why you developed schizophrenia. We'll probably want to look at other family members to determine if there's a familial component for your illness. But, beyond that, the more I see of you in all kinds of situations, the better I can help you. Got that?" finished the doctor.