Martha nodded. “I spoke with Ruth on Monday afternoon, and she said they would be here by six o’clock.”
“Maybe the roads are icy because of the snow,” Mom said.
“I’m hungry,” Anna complained. “When are we gonna eat supper?”
“We’re waiting for Aunt Ruth and Uncle Martin to get here.” Mom placed the baby over her shoulder and patted his back.
“But I’m hungry now.”
“You can wait.” Cleon took a seat beside Grace again. “I’m sure they’ll be here soon.”
“Is there anything in the oven that needs tending to?” Grace asked, looking at her mother.
Mom shook her head. “The soup’s staying warm on the stove, and the open-faced sandwiches Martha and I made earlier are in the refrigerator.”
“Let’s sing Christmas carols while we wait,” Martha suggested.
Mom smiled. “Good idea. That’ll make the time go quicker, and it’ll help us stay focused on the meaning of Christmas.”
“Can we sing ‘Jingle Bells’?” Anna asked. “I like that song.”
“ ‘Jingle Bells’ is not a Christmas carol.” Cleon frowned at Anna.
“Why don’t we start with ‘Silent Night’?” Mom said. “That was Grace’s favorite Christmas song when she was a girl.”
Martha was the first to lead off, and the rest of the family joined in as they sang, “Silent night! Holy night! All is calm, all is bright, round yon virgin mother and Child. Holy Infant, so tender and mild, sleep in heavenly peace; sleep in heavenly peace.”
When the song ended, Grace looked over at her baby, sleeping peacefully in Mom’s arms. Maybe tonight they would all sleep in heavenly peace.
They sang several more songs until Dad held up his hand and said, “It’s almost seven. Ruth and Martin should have been here by now.”
“Maybe we should go look for them,” Cleon suggested. “If they did hit ice, their buggy might have skidded off the road.”
“You’re right,” Dad said. “We need to head out and see if we can spot them along the way.”
The men donned their coats and stocking caps, then hurried out the door.
As they headed down the road in Cleon’s buggy, it didn’t take Roman long to realize there were some patches of ice. It had begun to snow quite heavily, too, and he became even more apprehensive.
“You don’t suppose they saw how hard it was snowing and decided to stay home, do you?” Cleon asked, turning in his seat to look at Roman.
“I guess they might have. Knowing Ruth, though, she would have moved heaven and earth to be with her family on Christmas Eve.”
“You’re probably right.”
“Sure is cold out tonight,” Roman said. “I can see my breath, even here in the buggy.” He squinted as he studied the road ahead.
Suddenly Cleon pointed to the left. “Look, there’s a buggy flipped over on its side, and it doesn’t look good.” He guided his horse to the shoulder of the road and jumped down. Roman did the same.
As they raced around to the front of the mangled buggy, a shiver shot up Roman’s back. The mare that had been pulling the buggy lay on its side, and two people lay crumpled in the snow. “Ach! It’s Ruth and Martin!”
Ruth, can you hear me? Please—look at me.”
Ruth tried to open her eyes, but they wouldn’t cooperate. Where was she? Who was calling her name?
“Ruth. . .Ruth. . .”
Her eyelids fluttered.
“I think she’s trying to wake up.”
“Are you sure my daughter’s going to be all right?”
“She came through the surgery well. Given some time, she should heal from all her injuries.”
“Thank the Lord.”
Mom, is that you? The words formed on Ruth’s tongue, but she couldn’t open her mouth.
“She should be fully awake soon, and then the sheriff will want to question her.”
Question me about what? Why can’t I open my eyes or speak to Mom?
“My son-in-law and I have already spoken to the sheriff, so I don’t see what good it will do for—”
Dad, is that you? Tell me where I am and why I can’t see you and Mom. Reaching from deep within, Ruth cracked one eye open, then the other. Blurry faces came into view—faces she recognized.
“Wh–where am I?” she rasped.
“You’re in the hospital,” Dad said.
“What happened? Why does my stomach hurt so much?”
“You were in a horrible accident.” Mom’s face looked pale, and her chin quivered slightly.
“Do you know how it happened, Ruth?” Dad questioned. “Did your buggy hit a patch of ice on the road?”
Ruth closed her eyes and tried to remember. She and Martin had been driving down the road, heading to Mom and Dad’s on Christmas Eve. It had been snowing, and they’d been talking about wanting to have a baby. Then a truck had come barreling up behind them, and then—
“Martin! Where’s Martin?”
Dad opened his mouth as if to respond, but Mom shook her head. “You need to rest, Ruth. We can talk about this when you’re feeling better.”
The look of sadness on Mom’s face sent a jolt of panic through Ruth’s body. She tried to sit up, but a woman wearing a white uniform placed a restraining hand on her shoulder.
“Lie still, dear,” she said. “You’ve just come from surgery and you’ve lost a lot of blood. You don’t want to rip open your stitches.”
“Stitches? Where do I have stitches?”
The nurse looked over at Mom. “Perhaps it would be best if we let her sleep. She needs to remain calm.”
A warm, tingling sensation shot up Ruth’s arm, and she moaned. I must be dreaming. Jah, that’s all it is; just a strange dream.
As Grace sat in the hospital waiting room with Cleon beside her, her brain felt as if it were in a fog. What had started out to be a pleasant Christmas Eve had turned into a terrible nightmare.
She glanced across the room, where her folks stood talking to Martin’s parents. Mom had her arm around Flossie’s shoulder, no doubt offering words of comfort. Dad was doing the same with Martin’s father, Elmer.
“I just can’t believe what’s happened tonight,” Grace said, clinging to Cleon’s hand. “When the doctor came out and told us that Martin was dead and that they’d done surgery on Ruth because her intestines and uterus had been damaged, my brain wouldn’t let me believe it.”
“I know—it’s a terrible thing. At least we can take comfort in knowing that Martin’s in heaven.” Cleon let go of Grace’s hand and slipped his arm around her shoulders. “Ruth doesn’t know the extent of her injuries, does she?”
“Not yet.” Grace gulped down a sob. “When she finds out she’ll never be able to have kinner, I’m sure she’ll fall apart. All Ruth’s ever wanted is to be a wife and mother. She loved Martin so much.”
Cleon squeezed her shoulder. “Someday, when the pain of losing Martin has subsided, Ruth might find love again, and then—”
“How you can say such a thing?” Tears stung Grace’s eyes, and when she blinked, they spilled onto her cheeks.
“I’m not suggesting she find another man and get married as soon as she comes home from the hospital. I just wanted you to realize—”
Grace shook her head. “I can’t believe Ruth has been put to the test like this. It’s not fair! She’s always had such a sweet, tender spirit. She doesn’t deserve to have something so terrible happen to her.”
“No one deserves it, Grace. Rain falls on the just, same as it does the unjust. We need to ask God to give Ruth strength and help her deal with this loss.”
A thump-thump-thump woke Abe from his slumber. He rolled over and groaned. It sounded as though someone was knocking on the back door.
He shoved the covers aside, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and stepped into his trousers. Stumbling down the hallway, he bumped into Sue at the bottom of the stairs.
“I heard knocking and came to see
who it was,” she said.
“Me, too.” Abe pulled the back door open and was stunned to see Ivan Schrock standing on the porch. “Ivan, what are you doing here on Christmas morning?”
Ivan’s solemn expression caused Abe immediate concern. “I got word from Cleon this morning. There was a horrible accident last night.”
“A buggy accident?”
“Jah. It was Martin’s buggy.”
“Martin Gingerich?” Sue and Abe asked at the same time.
Ivan nodded. “Sorry to be tellin’ you this, but Martin’s dead, and Ruth’s in the hospital with serious injuries.”
Abe’s knees nearly buckled, and he heard Sue’s sharp intake of breath. Instinctively, he reached for her hand. “How did it happen? Was it caused by ice on the road?”
“We’re not sure. All I know is that Cleon and Roman got worried when Ruth and Martin didn’t show up at their place on Christmas Eve, so they went looking for them.” Ivan drew in a quick breath. “Guess they found Martin’s mangled buggy overturned on the shoulder of the road. The horse was dead, and Martin and Ruth were unconscious and bleeding pretty bad. Martin died soon after they got to the hospital, and the doctors did surgery on Ruth.”
“What kind of surgery?” Sue asked.
Ivan’s gaze dropped to the porch as his face flamed. “A hysterectomy. She had some damage to her intestines, and her uterus was messed up when she fell on a broken buggy wheel.”
“That’s baremlich!” Sue cried.
“Terrible isn’t the word for it!” Abe steadied himself against the doorjamb. “Is Ruth going to be okay?”
Ivan shrugged. “I think so—in time.”
Abe slowly shook his head. “I can’t believe that my good friend, who saved me from drowning, is dead.” Hot tears stung his eyes. “First my Alma, and now Ruth’s Martin. Dear Lord, how much more can we take?”
Ruth opened her eyes and blinked against the invading light. She’d been dreaming—a horrible, frightening dream about her and Martin riding in their buggy and a truck ramming them from behind. But it couldn’t have happened. She was safe and warm in her bed at home. Everything was as it should be.
She turned toward Martin’s side of the bed. He wasn’t there. All she saw was a strange-looking machine with a long piece of plastic tubing that was connected to—
Ruth screamed as a sharp pain shot through her abdomen. “Where am I? What’s happened to me?”
“It’s all right, Ruth. You’re in the hospital. We’re taking good care of you.”
A young woman wearing a white uniform stepped up to the side of the bed and placed a cool hand on Ruth’s forehead. “The sheriff’s outside. He wants to ask you a few questions.”
“The sheriff?”
“That’s right. He needs to talk to you about the accident.”
“Accident?”
“The one you were involved in last night.”
So it wasn’t a dream. There really had been an accident. As the reality set in, Ruth trembled. “Wh–where’s my husband?”
The woman glanced over her shoulder, then Ruth’s mother stepped forward.
“Mom! I’m so glad you’re here. Martin and I were in an accident. Somebody rammed the back of our buggy, and—”
“I know.” Mom clasped Ruth’s hand. “You were hurt badly, Ruth. When the buggy tipped over, one of the wheels broke, and you landed on it when you were thrown from the buggy. The broken wheel punctured your belly, causing some intestinal damage, as well as damage to your uterus.” She paused and sniffed a couple of times. “The doctors—they had to do an emergency hysterectomy. You’ll have to take antibiotics for some time to fight any possible infection.”
“Wh–what are you saying?” Ruth’s throat felt so dry and swollen she could barely swallow.
Mom sank into the chair beside Ruth’s bed as tears dribbled down her cheeks. “The surgery to fix your bowels was a success, but I’m sorry, daughter. . . . You’ll never have any babies.”
“What? Oh no, that just can’t be. Martin and I want a big family. We—”
Mom slowly shook her head. “Martin’s gone, Ruth. He died soon after you were brought to the hospital.”
Ruth stared at the ceiling. Surely Mom was wrong. Martin couldn’t be dead. They’d been on their way to Mom and Dad’s to celebrate Christmas Eve. It was going to be a happy time—her and Martin’s first Christmas together.
“No! No! No!”
As Ruth lay in her bed, staring at the cracks in the ceiling, her fingers curled into the palms of her hands and dug into her flesh. Last night, she’d been released from the hospital in order to attend Martin’s funeral today. Mom and Dad had brought her home to stay with them, and the doctor had given Ruth a prescription for antibiotics and instructions to get plenty of rest. He’d said she could attend her husband’s funeral, but only if she used the wheelchair Dad had rented.
I don’t want to go to Martin’s funeral, Ruth silently wailed. I just want to close my eyes and never wake up.
Ruth’s mind took her back to the day Sheriff Osborn had showed up at the hospital, asking her to tell him what she remembered about the accident. Her brain had been foggy, but she’d been able to remember a few things—looking over her shoulder, seeing a truck bearing down on them, being rammed over and over. She’d told the sheriff that it had been dark outside and snowing. She hadn’t seen the license plate and couldn’t be sure about the color of the vehicle. What she hadn’t told the sheriff was that Luke had a truck he kept hidden in the woods, and she feared it may have been him who had rammed their buggy.
Tears stung the back of Ruth’s eyes. Could Luke have followed us on Christmas Eve? If so, why would he do such a horrible thing?
“I brought you a bowl of oatmeal and some toast with your favorite strawberry jam,” Mom said as she stepped into the room carrying a wooden tray in her hands.
“I’m not hungry.”
“You’ve got to eat something. You won’t get your strength back if you don’t.”
Ruth shook her head. “I don’t care if I ever get my strength back. My husband’s dead, and I can never have any children. There’s nothing left for me to live for.”
“Ach, don’t say such a thing.” Mom placed the tray on the nightstand and seated herself on the edge of Ruth’s bed. “You have me, your daed, and the rest of the family to live for. We all love you, and we’re grateful to God for sparing your life.”
“Jah, well,” Ruth said as the bitter taste of anger rose in her throat, “I wish He’d taken me instead of Martin.”
Mom clutched Ruth’s hand. “It wasn’t your time to go, and you shouldn’t be wishing it were so.”
“What are you saying—that it was meant for Martin to die?”
“I can’t say that God meant for it to happen, but He did allow it, and we need to accept it as His will.”
Ruth swallowed hard and nearly choked on a sob. “I—I don’t think I can do that. Someone rammed our buggy on purpose, and they need to pay.”
“ ‘For we know him that hath said, Vengeance belongeth unto me, I will recompense, saith the Lord,’ ” Mom quoted from Hebrews.
“I know, but. . .” Ruth looked away, unable to finish her sentence.
Mom patted her hand. “Eat your breakfast. Folks will be arriving for the funeral soon, and Cleon will be up to carry you down so you can attend the services.”
Ruth gave no reply. She didn’t want to attend Martin’s services. Hearing the bishop’s words and seeing Martin’s body lying in that cold wooden coffin would only confirm that her husband was dead.
Abe directed his horse and buggy behind the long procession of black buggies heading down the narrow, hilly road leading to the Amish cemetery where Martin Gingerich’s body would be laid to rest. It was a raw, dreary day. The steel gray sky looked as though it might open up and pound the earth with pelting rain, but it was too cold for that. If the clouds dropped anything, it would be more snow.
Abe observed the frozen fiel
ds on each side of the road as a bone-chilling wind lapped the sides of his buggy. He felt as if he were reliving Alma’s funeral. It hadn’t been quite a year since her death, but it seemed as if it were yesterday. The death of a Christian was a celebration, because he or she had left an earth full of struggles and made it to heaven. Yet for the ones left behind, there remained heartache and a silent sense of loneliness that went beyond anything Abe had ever known.
“God will see you through,” Bishop King had told Abe the day they’d placed Alma’s body in the grave. “The Bible tells us in Psalm 147:3 that God ‘healeth the broken in heart, and bindeth up their wounds.’ ”
As Abe reflected on those words, he knew they were true. He still missed Alma, but with every new day, the pain became less. He was now able to find a sense of joy in the little things that occurred in his everyday life. His children, whom he’d previously taken for granted, had become more important to him, as well. His desire to help others during their time of need seemed stronger than ever before. Most of all, Abe’s personal relationship with God had taken on new meaning, for he spent more time praying and reading his Bible, which had strengthened his faith and given him purpose in life.
Abe glanced over his shoulder at his children in the backseat. Despite his sorrow over losing a good friend, he knew life must go on.
When Abe stepped down from his buggy a short time later, a blast of frigid air hit him full in the face, and he shivered. Lord, help Ruth’s body to heal, ease her sorrow over losing her mate, and as she regains her strength, please give her the same sense of peace You have given me.
Martha stood behind her sister’s wheelchair, listening to the bishop’s final words and watching Ruth’s shoulders tremble as she fought to control her emotions. This horrible tragedy that had befallen Ruth wasn’t fair. She and Martin had only been married a short time. They’d had their whole lives to look forward to until Martin’s life was cut short.
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