Sweeping her gaze toward the pond, Dani took in the dark, marshy water . . . The smattering of thick logs breaching the surface . . . The handful of turtles sunning themselves atop wet bark . . .
“Maybe she just wandered off to look at something without really thinking,” Dani offered. “Like she did the other day when you were at the doctor’s and she was done feeding the calf.”
Lydia’s eyes met and held Dani’s for a second before sweeping back toward the butterflies. “Caleb didn’t tell me she’d wandered off.”
“Wandered probably isn’t the right word. Nettie had a purpose. It just wasn’t a purpose Caleb was told and so he got pretty scared when he couldn’t find her at first.”
Shaking her head, Lydia moved still farther into the trees while Dani skirted the pond’s edge. “She went to see Wooly, didn’t she?”
“She did.”
A flash of purple leaned Dani to the right, her breath whooshing from her lungs in relief at the realization it was just a flower, floating on the surface next to a white—
Pulling her phone from her back pocket and tossing it to the ground, Dani took off in a run. “Use my phone! Call nine-one-one! Now! Now! Now!”
Her eyes locked on Nettie’s kapp, she rewound her thoughts twenty-seven years to the moment she’d fallen into the same pond. She remembered the muddy bottom, the plant life that had encircled her legs, and Caleb’s pleas for her to stay away from the deep side.
She skirted the outer edge of the pond, her mind’s eye working to frame the present with the past. Where had she fallen in? Which side was the deep—
In a flash, she saw herself straining forward, trying desperately to blow her leaf boat across the surface, the afternoon sun warm on her face as she fell—face first—into the pond. Sputtering and flailing, she’d pushed the water from her eyes to find Caleb laughing.
“Just stand up, Danielle! It’s shallow on this side. The deep part is over there. ”
She’d followed his finger, the afternoon sun warm on her face once again.
The afternoon sun . . .
Breaking into a sprint, Dani headed toward the western side of the pond and the safest place to dive in—a spot not all that far from where Nettie’s white kapp had . . . been? Toeing off her shoes, she dove in, headfirst, her shoulder grazing something hard and unyielding as she rose again to the surface.
“Nettie! Nettie!”
Again she dove down, the murkiness of the water limiting her vision to no more than an inch or two at a time. Leading with her arms, she stroked forward, her fingertips brushing a plant, a log, an old tire, another plant, skin—With one powerful stroke forward, she wrapped her arms around the lifeless form and pulled, her only thought a silent prayer.
Please, God, please. Let her be okay . . .
Please.
At the surface, she turned right toward the shoreline, Lydia’s shrieks barely registering against her own shallow breaths and the lack of any from Nettie. When she reached the edge, she used the last of her strength to lift the child and then herself up and onto the ground.
“Nettie! Nettie!” Lydia screamed, swooping down between them. “Nettie!”
“Get back, Lydia!” Pushing past her friend, she felt the little girl’s neck and wrist but found no pulse. “Please!”
“Is she breathing?”
“ No. ”
“Nettie!”
She tilted the child’s head back and pinched her nose. “Did you call nine-one-one?”
“Yah!”
“Go”—she covered Nettie’s mouth with her own, breathed into it, and then followed it up with a series of chest compressions—“out to the road”—she breathed into the child’s mouth again and then followed it with more chest compressions—“wait for them at the road”—she repeated the sequence a third time, cycling from breath to compressions again—“so they know where to find us.”
“He is working! They will know!”
A siren in the distance confirmed Lydia’s words. Louder and louder it got until its sudden silence was broken by the echo of doors being slammed, metal clicking into place, and, finally, a familiar voice shouting through the trees.
Again, she breathed into the tiny mouth. Again, she compressed the tiny chest. And then, finally, Nettie coughed, a spray of pond water exiting her mouth and hitting Dani on the cheek.
“That’s my girl . . . that’s my girl . . .” Gently, she slid her arm underneath Nettie’s shoulders, tilting her until her cornflower-blue eyes widened on Dani’s. “It’s okay, sweetie . . . I’m here. And your mamm’s here . . .”
“Nettie!”
Caleb?
A quick glance over her shoulder yielded Lydia’s brother, dressed in dark navy trousers and a pale blue shirt emblazoned with a paramedic’s badge on the sleeve. In his calloused hand was a medical bag, and in his eyes was a mixture of both fear and confidence. Behind him, no more than ten feet away and moving fast across the dirt, was a young woman, clad in dark pants and a white EMS shirt, pushing a stretcher.
“Is she breathing?” he barked as he traversed the subtle pitch of the shoreline and dropped to his knees.
“Yes.” Dani slid to the right to give him access to the child and then, while he set about assessing the situation and talking to Nettie, she picked herself up and onto her feet, her heart thudding, her shoulder stinging.
“May I take a look at that, ma’am?”
She looked up, her gaze settling on the young woman wearing a pair of latex gloves and staring at Dani’s shoulder. When she followed the woman’s eyes, she saw that she was bleeding. “Oh, that’s nothing. I think I scraped it against a log or something when I first dove in.”
“You’re probably right, but we should get it cleaned up, anyway. Make sure it doesn’t require stitches.”
Shrugging, she stood in place as the young woman cleaned, treated, and covered the surface wound, Dani’s own attention returning, again and again, to the little girl now lying on the gurney, looking up at her beloved mamm while her uncle hovered nearby.
“It’s not deep enough to need stitches, but you’ll still want to change out the dressing and treat it with an antibacterial ointment once or twice a day for the next few days to prevent possible infection.” The EMT gathered the wrapper from the bandage, tossed it into her own medical bag, and then glanced back at Dani before she hustled to catch up with Caleb and the Nettie-topped gurney now making its way back around the pond toward the path and, presumably, the waiting ambulance. “Looks like you were a hero today, ma’am.”
Before she could truly process the words, or the fact that every sound around her made her feel as if she were standing in a tunnel, Nettie’s tiny hand popped up from the gurney and waved, slumping Dani’s shoulders with the powerful weight of relief. For a moment, maybe two, she stayed where she was, rooted to the dirt, her gaze returning, again and again, to the purple flower still floating on the surface of the pond, its tiny would-be rescuer seemingly okay after being close to—
She shook the horror from her thoughts and, anxious to see Nettie’s face one more time, took off in a run around the pond, down the path, and out to the road in time to see Caleb push closed the door on the back of the rig and lift his head to the sky in what she knew was surely a prayer of gratitude.
“Caleb?”
Dropping his chin, he turned to Dani, the fear she’d seen in his eyes at the edge of the pond still alive and well. “Danielle. . . I-I can’t even begin to thank you for what you did back there. You saved my niece’s life.”
The words bounced off like gravel on a moving tire. “Will she be okay?” she asked, moving her gaze between Caleb and the ambulance. “I mean, really okay?”
“She’s going to be fine. Because of you.”
“Where is Lydia?”
“In back, with Nettie.”
She nodded. “Did you get word to Elijah somehow?”
“No. When the call came in, my only focus was getting here. ”
&nb
sp; “I’ll tell him now. As soon as I get back.”
“Thanks.”
“Should I bring him to the hospital?”
“You can, but I don’t think they’re going to keep her beyond a few tests. All precautionary stuff that is more about checking boxes.” He pointed at the back door. “Do you want to say something to them?”
She stopped herself, mid-nod, and changed it to a quiet yet audible “no.” “I’d rather you get her where she needs to go so she can get back home as soon as possible. Her family needs her.”
“Roger that.” He started toward the passenger side of the white and red rig but stopped before he’d made it more than a step or two. “Thank you, Danielle. Thank you for your cool head, for your quick actions, and for keeping my family from having to endure another tragic loss.”
Chapter 24
She was sitting outside the kitchen window when they finally pulled up, Lydia’s kapped head in the passenger side window a welcomed sight. Toeing the rocking chair to a stop, Dani stood and made her way down the steps and onto the driveway, her gaze moving from Lydia, to Caleb, and finally, thankfully, to the smaller kapped figure waving out at her from the center of the back seat.
Seconds later, the front door of the main house opened, depositing Elijah and the boys onto their own porch, their destination and their relief equally clear. When the pickup stopped and the engine was turned off, Elijah and the boys swarmed to Lydia’s side of the truck, prompting Dani to go toward Caleb’s.
Even in the last of the day’s light, she could see the strain of the day in everything from the subtle curve of the man’s normally iron-straight shoulders to the darkened circles rimming eyes dulled by fatigue. Yet despite all of the indicators it had been a day he never wanted to relive, there was no denying his smile’s part in keeping him upright.
“Hey,” he said, stepping down beside her. “We’re back.”
“I see that.” Dani drank in the sight of Nettie on the other side of the truck, the child’s excitement over the sheet of stickers she’d gotten from the nurses at the hospital bringing a smile to her own lips.
“Nettie?” Caleb said across the hood of his truck. “I think Miss Dani could use a great big hug from you right about now.”
“No . . . No . . . It’s okay. She’s where she should be,” Dani said, her voice hushed. “With her family. I’m just so happy to be able to look at her.”
Lydia popped her head around the long, rectangular side view mirror and covered her answering sob with her hand. “Danielle . . . I . . . I am just so grateful to the Lord for bringing you here to us, and for having you there at the pond with us, today.” Slipping Nettie from Elijah’s arms, Lydia carried the smiling child around to Dani and Caleb.
When Nettie reached out for Dani, Dani pulled the little girl close and breathed in her sweet scent. “Oh, I am so very happy to see you, little one. How are you feeling?”
“All better!”
“I’m so glad.” She snuggled her close for a few more moments and then pulled back just enough to afford some much-needed eye contact. “You tried to get that purple flower, didn’t you?”
Nettie shot out her lower lip. “I wanted to bring it to Mamm. But I dropped it in the pond.”
“I figured as much. But sweetie?” She tapped the little girl on the nose. “You can’t ever go in that pond again without asking your mamm or your uncle or your dat first, okay?”
“Or you?” Nettie asked.
“If I’m there with you, yes. If not, just find a big person, okay?”
Nettie’s nod was slow yet intentional. “Yah.”
“You can’t forget that, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Never, ever,” Dani added for good measure.
“I won’t forget.” Reaching for her mamm, Nettie yawned, her eyelids beginning to droop. “I am very sleepy, Mamm.”
Caleb leaned in, kissed his niece on her soft cheek, and then extended a second one to Lydia. “It’s been a long day for her, and for you, too. Get some sleep and I’ll check in on you both tomorrow morning, okay?”
“Yah.” Shifting Nettie to her left arm, Lydia hugged first Caleb, and then Dani, with her right. “Thank you—both of you.”
“Of course.” Dani watched her friend cross to the rest of her family and then, as a unit, they headed inside their home, a family once again, a family still.
Sagging against the truck, she tilted up her chin until her only view was the dusky wide-open sky.
“How’s that cut doing?” Caleb asked, stealing her focus back to him and then her arm.
“Honestly? I’d actually forgotten all about it until just now.”
“That’s a good sign, I guess. But you really need to keep it clean and change the bandaging once a day. Don’t want to get an infection, you know?”
“I will. Thanks.”
“And sleep, you should probably try to get some of that tonight, too,” he added. “You had a lot of excitement for one day.”
“Trust me, I am way too keyed up to think about sleep just yet.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“Could we talk then? Over a cup of coffee or something?” He hooked his thumb toward his truck. “I think the coffee shop in town is open for another hour or so if we head out now.”
“Don’t you think maybe you should get some sleep? You look like you could fall over.”
“Hence the suggestion of coffee,” he said, laughing. “And heading out now before it gets much later . . .”
She looked from Caleb, to the truck, and, finally, to the darkness beginning to envelop the fields and the barn, the day’s events, coupled with the demands of the job she hadn’t known he had, leading her to the offer she knew she had to make. “I could make us both a cup if that’s okay? That’ll get you back on the road to home sooner than if we have to drive into town and back.”
He tried to recover his sag of relief before she saw it, but when it was clear she had, he grinned. “Thank you. That sounds perfect.”
Nodding, she led the way around the truck and over to her own porch. “You should’ve seen me a few hours ago, after the boys got home from school. I was doing things I never thought I’d do.”
“Like what?” He held the door for her to walk through and then closed it behind himself.
“For starters, I mucked a stall. After that, I took the clothes off the line for Lydia and shuttled them to the right rooms thanks to Mark. And for my crowning achievement, I milked a cow. Or, rather, I tried to milk a cow. Fortunately for me—and the cow, I’m sure—Luke took over after about three pulls.”
Caleb’s laugh rattled around the room only to stop as his gaze came to rest on the table. “Writing a novel?” he asked, pointing to the pile of balled-up stationery she’d yet to discard.
“Uh, no . . .” She plucked a pair of mugs from the cabinet to the right of the sink and set them beside the stove and the kettle she promptly filled with water. “I’ve been trying to write a letter and I just can’t seem to make it say what I want it to say.”
“Keep at it; it’ll come.”
“I hope so.” She held the propane button until the burner lit and then set the kettle on top. While the water heated, she joined him at the table, the battery-operated light he’d flipped on above them drawing her attention to the badge on his sleeve. “I had no idea you were a paramedic. I just thought your job was helping Elijah on occasion.”
Setting his elbows atop the table, he rested his chin against his palm. “I do that, sure, but yeah, that’s not my job. I work four on/four off out at the ambulance district on Route 322. Started out as an EMT, and worked my way up to being a paramedic.”
“Is that why you decided not to get baptized? Because you wanted to be a paramedic?” she asked.
“Not exactly, no. I left because I wanted a little more freedom in my life. I wanted to drive, I wanted to explore new places, and, yeah, I wanted to do something that had me helping people. At f
irst, after I left, I considered being a cop, but it didn’t feel right. Then, I thought about being a firefighter, but I could’ve done that on a volunteer basis and stayed Amish, so that seemed silly. Then, one day, when I was driving around, I saw a sign about becoming trained as an EMT. I gave it a shot and ended up enjoying it enough I decided to go back to school and work toward being a paramedic.”
“And you did it.”
His grin, while tired, reached clear through to his eyes. “I did.”
She traced her finger along the edge of the table and then dropped it into her lap, her thoughts filling with a single question she couldn’t help but ask. “Do you ever miss it?”
“Being Amish?”
“Yes.”
“Not really, no. But since I left before baptism instead of after, the only thing that’s really changed is where I live and how I get around. I still stop out and see Mamm and Dat when I’m not working, I come out here and spend time with Lydia and Elijah and the kids on my days off, and I actually go off and see my older brothers whenever I have some time off and feel like driving myself to Ohio—something I couldn’t do quite so easily if I’d stayed.”
She considered his words as the kettle began to whistle. “Sugar? Cream?”
“No. Black works for me.”
When the coffee was ready, she carried their matching mugs back to the table, setting one in front of Caleb’s spot, the other in front of her own. “Is there anything you do miss?”
“Again, not really. I can still participate in just about anything I want. Though”—he tugged on his chin, his eyes crackling with mischief—“I think I’ll skip the whole beard-growing thing when I get married. I don’t think I have the face for it, you know?”
She swallowed back her answering laugh and, instead, stared down into the tannish-colored liquid in her own mug. “Today was terrifying.”
“Tell me about it.”
“I was afraid she . . .” She pushed her mug forward, shook her head.
“What happened, exactly?”
“Lydia and I were sitting on a blanket near the eastern edge of the pond, talking. Nettie was sniffing her way through a patch of wildflowers on the opposite side. I was just getting ready to tell your sister about the baby when I looked up and realized Nettie wasn’t in the flower patch anymore. So I got up, and Lydia got up, and we split off in different directions—Lydia toward some butterflies she suspected as being the catalyst for Nettie’s sudden disappearance, and me toward another crop of wildflowers on the northern side of the pond. When I didn’t see her there, I started to turn back, and that’s when I saw the purple flower floating on the other side of the pond. At first, I was just glad it was a flower and not Nettie. But then, when I looked just beyond it, I saw the white of Nettie’s kapp.”
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