Laura looked up to see John’s mamm approaching.
“Goot morning to both of you,” Hilda said, her face lined with weariness.
“I thought you had gone home for the day.” Mamm let go of Laura to slip her arm around Hilda’s shoulder, and the two women clung to each other for a moment.
“How is he?” Hilda asked.
“Not goot,” Mamm said. “I think he spoke a few words to Laura though.”
Hilda turned to Laura. “I’m glad I didn’t go home yet. I’d like to speak to you.” Hilda motioned toward the waiting room. “Let’s sit down, or my legs will give out on me.”
Laura moved toward Hilda, and Mamm shrugged and followed them to a row of empty chairs. Hilda sighed as she sat down, and then she looked at Laura. “I don’t know where to begin, dear. I know you’ve been seeing John for quite some time, so we should keep you filled in, although…” Hilda looked away as tears rolled down her cheeks. “I guess I really should just say what needs saying, Laura, and have it done with. You don’t want John as your husband in the condition he’s in.”
“But no!” Laura half-rose from her seat. “I’m promised to him. I love him.”
“You are promised to him?” Hilda appeared puzzled. “John never told me. Of course, maybe he wouldn’t have, but still…”
“It only happened the day of the barn-raising,” Mamm said.
Hilda’s puzzlement increased. “But how? I mean, the accident happened…” Hilda fixed her gaze on Laura.
Laura looked away. “I suppose I might as well tell you. The accident was my fault. I was tending the lemonade stand and took the opportunity to step away and speak with John for a few moments. He followed me behind the little shed, the one near the building site. We kissed and he asked me to marry him.” Laura kept her gaze on the far wall. “I’m sure John fell because his thoughts were on me and our future together. I will certainly still marry John. Even if John never walks again.”
“But we have to be practical, dear heart.” Hilda reached for Laura’s hand. “Even if John did ask you to be his frau. That was…” Her voice trailed off.
“Yah, I know. Before the accident.” Laura forced back the tears. “But nothing has changed, even if I’m sure that John fell because he was thinking about our love…and the kisses we had just shared. How could something so pure and holy become so wrong?”
Hilda sighed. “Your kisses weren’t wrong, dear. John obviously loves you. You shouldn’t blame yourself. The Lord knows we did our own share of foolishness back when.”
“You did?” Laura asked.
Mamm huffed. “Hilda only means the point rhetorically. I’m sure she didn’t go kissing Herman behind sheds on barn-raising days.”
“Don’t be too hard on the girl,” Hilda said. “We weren’t exactly saints. You snatched Yost up quickly enough after he quarreled with Teacher Nancy. Long before he had time to heal the hurt. And Nancy has never married, so she must have been hurt too. Deeply, I’d say!”
Mamm fell silent, and Hilda squeezed Laura’s hand. “See, dear, John might not make it through this. His back is broken in three places. His lung is punctured, and he has fluid on his brain from a severe concussion. Even if John pulls through, he’ll never walk again. Not without a miracle, and those don’t happen much anymore.” Hilda paused as tears streamed down her face.
Laura gasped at the notion that John might not even pull through. “He must get better!” she wailed. “He must!”
Mamm and Hilda both wrapped their arms around her and held her close, one on each side. The sound of her soft sobs filled the waiting room. Several of the Englisha people looked their way, but understanding was written on their faces. Others had mourned here before her.
“Even if John lives, I don’t want you to marry him,” Hilda whispered through Laura’s tears. “I couldn’t live with myself if I allowed it.”
“And I couldn’t live without John,” Laura insisted as her cries increased.
Heads turned again. “Hush, Laura,” said Mamm. “We don’t carry on like that.”
Hilda squeezed Laura’s hand again and stood. “Well, I need to be going. I’ll peek in and see John for a second first.”
As Hilda walked down the hall, Mamm turned to Laura. “Hilda is only trying to make things easier for you.”
Laura didn’t answer. It would be useless.
They found their driver in the parking lot, near where she had dropped them off. Once their neighbor, Mrs. Meyers, had found out about the accident, she had volunteered to do any driving they needed. Mamm didn’t want to impose on others more than necessary, but the drive up to Ogdensburg by horse and buggy this morning would have taken more time than they had to spare.
“How was he?” Mrs. Meyers asked once they were in the car.
“Conscious for a little bit,” Mamm said.
Mrs. Meyers gave Laura a sympathetic look. “Any word on the prognosis?”
“I don’t know,” Laura mumbled, because she didn’t. She was not about to repeat the grim conclusions John’s mamm had drawn without solid evidence.
“He may not make it,” Mamm said. Laura turned away and looked out the window.
“I’m so sorry,” Mrs. Meyers said, sounding close to tears herself.
Laura tried to pull herself together. She was not about to get emotional in front of Mrs. Meyers. “Thank you for your concern. I think he’ll be better soon.”
There was silence in the car as Mamm and Mrs. Meyers exchanged looks. Neither of them said anything, but Laura could hear their thoughts. She’s in denial, too grief-stricken to face the truth.
Mamm ticked off John’s injuries to Mrs. Meyers on the way home, but Laura didn’t listen. Maybe she was in denial. She preferred to call it hope. Thankfully Mamm and Mrs. Meyers kept up a stream of chatter on the drive home, and Laura didn’t have to speak.
Mrs. Meyers slowed on Lead Mine Road for the Masts’ driveway and turned in. After she came to a stop by the barn, Laura was the first out of the car. “Thanks for the ride,” she hollered over her shoulder, hurrying toward the house without waiting for an answer.
Lydia met her at the door with a worried look. “How is John?”
“I’m not talking about it,” Laura said. She raced up the stairs and past Lydia’s bedroom door, where a suitcase lay open on the bed and appeared fully packed. Life was going on without her, as she hung in limbo with John lying helpless in the hospital. Laura plopped down on her bed and wrapped her face in the quilt.
“It’s not your fault,” Lydia said from the doorway, having followed her sister upstairs.
Laura sat up to face her. “Lydia, I’m so scared! John’s mamm said he might not make it. He might die! And she said I can’t marry him because he’ll be a cripple. I protested, but it all fell on deaf ears.”
Lydia sat down on the bed and took Laura in her arms. The two rocked from side to side as soft sobs filled the bedroom.
Laura finally sat up straight. “You don’t need to cry. He’s not your boyfriend.”
“I know,” Lydia said. “But I feel what you feel. We’ve always shared everything, haven’t we?”
Laura nodded and stood to retrieve a fresh handkerchief. She wiped her eyes and asked, “What would you do if you were in my shoes?”
Lydia shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess if this had happened to Milton—”
“You’d be true to him,” Laura interrupted. “You know you would.”
“I’d stay true,” Lydia said, “if I really loved him to begin with.”
Laura nodded. “I do love John, and I’m not walking away. I don’t care what anyone says.”
“Did you tell John this?”
Laura looked up. “I tried. They wouldn’t let me speak with him alone, so I said what I had to say in front of Mamm and Clare. But John heard me. I know he did.”
“Of course he did!” Lydia moved closer and hugged her sister.
Mamm soon appeared in the doorway. “You’re making an awful fuss, Laura,” she said.
“You’re going to have to move past this tragedy. At some point, it appears childish to carry on so. You’ll have to face the truth. Weeping is a proper response for a while, but it must have an end.”
Laura stood and dried her tears. Mamm was gone when she looked up again, but Lydia stood in the doorway.
“You’ll be okay?” Lydia asked.
Laura nodded and tried to smile as she closed the door behind her.
Chapter Nine
Laura sat perched on the low wooden bench along the outer wall of Bishop Ezra’s barn. The young folks from the district had arrived at Bishop Ezra’s place on a Thursday evening to help harvest the bishop’s sweet corn crop. The bishop had planted more than half an acre behind the barn. Several of the boys were still busy outside with the last rows. Brown tassels and green husks lay everywhere on the barn floor, but all that Laura could see was John’s pale body lying in the hospital bed in Ogdensburg.
Mamm had gone with her to the hospital today, but John had done little more than blink his eyes when she bent over to whisper what words of comfort she dared. Someday soon she would be brave enough to ask everyone to leave the hospital room, and she’d wrap her arms around John’s neck and kiss him with all the love she had in her heart. He’d get better quicker that way, she was sure. John needed her love and she needed him to get better. The Lord had not intended things to turn out this way. How could He with the joy and laughter that had bubbled up in their hearts that morning at the barn-raising? John’s kisses had spoken of all the things that were right in life, and this was not right. Darkness had interfered, and now only the Lord could set things right.
Laura forced herself to focus on the freshly picked sweet corn in her lap, as her lips moved silently. “Please help us, dear Lord.”
“What did you say?” John’s sister Clare leaned closer to ask.
“Nothing.” Laura tried to smile. “Just thinking of John. We were up to see him today.”
“Praying then?” Clare guessed correctly, her warm smile indicating her approval. “We remember John every day in our family prayers. John is such a dear brother.” Tears filled Clare’s eyes, and she looked away.
Laura slipped her arm around Clare’s shoulder. The hope for miracles must be the desire of the young, but at least now she had someone other than Lydia who shared that hope. Daett and Mamm were hoping too, but for different things. After the accident, Mamm’s dream of a marriage for her daughters had become conflicted. John had been a perfect fit for that dream, but now Mamm wanted Laura’s relationship with him to end so she could move on with life. But Laura knew she must not blame Mamm or grow bitter. Mamm had never loved John like she did.
Laura forced herself to listen to the conversation of the young girls around her, but it all sounded like static to her ears as the image of John in his hospital bed lingered in her mind. On a night like this, John normally would have been on the seat beside her where Clare was sitting.
Laura wiped away the forming tears and glanced up as Bishop Ezra appeared in the barn door. His long white beard was filled with green corn leaves, and she laughed at the sight along with the rest of the young people. Bishop Ezra smiled and brushed the leaves out, declaring, “I must say, I am happy tonight. This is such a wunderbah gift from the Lord that you young people have come to help an old man and woman with their corn patch.”
More laughter rippled through the barn.
“I see the trick now,” one of the boys teased. “Your sons-in-law also planted on the home farm to play on our sympathies. They knew we wouldn’t be over to help with their corn patches.”
Wide grins spread over the faces of the bishop’s two sons-in-law, who were both standing within earshot.
Laura again tuned out the banter. Yah, she knew life must go on, but her heart wasn’t ready. She wondered if her heart would ever be ready without John.
Clare must have noticed the silence because she reached over to squeeze Laura’s hand.
“Thank you,” Laura whispered as she busied herself with the corn. She ripped long streams of green husk off the soft yellow centers. A few bugs scurried about in search of new hiding places, and Laura ignored them to toss the husks on the barn floor. If only she could so easily tear away the darkness that had crept over John’s life, their problem would be solved—but she couldn’t. All she could do was pray. The Lord could touch John and restore him to his former vibrant health. Why would the Lord will otherwise? John had been strong, and honest, and kindhearted, and so alive. There couldn’t have been anything wrong with that. She could still feel his arms around her that morning behind the little shed, though the memory seemed years ago now. She would never forget how that felt, even if she were never to feel that strength again. The morning would never come when she would awaken and be unable to remember what his touch felt like. She—
“How are you girls doing tonight?” A man’s voice sounded from in front of her, and Laura jerked her head up. Wendell Kaufman, Bishop Ezra’s notorious grandson, stood in front of them.
“I’m sorry for John’s trouble,” Wendell said to both girls. “I hope he’s doing well.”
“My brother’s hanging on,” Clare answered.
“Goot! Can I sit?” Wendell motioned with his hand.
Laura reluctantly slid over to make room for him. Wendell sat down with his shoulder inches from hers, right where John should have been sitting. Did Wendell realize this? Was he trying to take John’s place? Knowing Wendell’s reputation, she wouldn’t put it past him.
Wendell sent a smile Laura’s way. “Have you been up to see John lately?” He reached for a sheaf of corn from Laura’s lap and began to strip off the green husk.
“Mamm took me today,” Laura replied.
“Is he responsive?” Wendell asked with a concerned look.
How should she respond? His comfort eased into every ache of her soul, but should she allow this? Wendell was forward and could get the wrong idea easily. “There wasn’t much reaction,” she finally said. “But I did speak with him for a few minutes.”
“That’s important,” Wendell said. “They say unconscious people can often hear us even when we think they can’t, and once they’re awake they speak of what a comfort that was.”
“Do you think John will awaken soon?”
Wendell didn’t answer for a moment. “We must pray for the Lord’s will,” he finally said. “But our heart can still ask, I suppose. You’re wishing, then, for a touch of the Lord’s hand on John?”
“Yah,” Laura whispered.
Wendell smiled. “Medical miracles do happen.”
“But divine ones?”
Wendell shrugged. “The Lord works through the doctors usually, but we can pray. King David prayed for his sick son who was at death’s door, even when the Lord Himself had smitten the lad. Perhaps the Lord will change His mind. That’s what King David told his servants.”
“You believe the Lord has smitten John?” Laura didn’t hide the horror in her voice. All of the guilt from that day rushed back, and her face paled.
Wendell let go of the green corn sheaf and reached for her hand. “I heard of what happened that day, Laura, but you must not blame yourself. We don’t understand why John slipped or even why the beam shook so much. To claim that we do would be foolishness.” His hand tightened on hers. “And to blame yourself is to say that we do know, even though we don’t. We can only ask the Lord for mercy on John’s condition.”
“Would you pray then?” Laura’s words leaped out, and Clare pulled in a sharp breath from the other side of Wendell.
“Certainly,” Wendell said. He closed his eyes and whispered the words, “Dear Lord in heaven, Ruler of the universe, look down and comfort Laura’s heart. Look down and see John’s distress in the hospital room. If possible, heal him and restore him fully to the strong man he once was. Amen.”
“Thank you,” Laura whispered. “Thank you so much.”
No one had prayed like this with her before, but she didn’t dare
say so. Wendell might think her too forward. Already he must know about the moment she and John shared behind the little shed, as apparently most of the community did. That thought brought a deep blush to her cheeks.
Wendell’s hand was still on hers. A few young people had glanced their way, but no one seemed to think Wendell’s presence beside her inappropriate. No doubt they knew she needed the comfort, and Wendell was the grandson of the bishop. Yah, he had pursued her before she dated John, but so far none of Wendell’s words had given her cause for alarm. Maybe Wendell had a kinder side than she was aware of, or perhaps she’d just never noticed it before. Tonight Wendell’s intentions had only been goot.
Laura leaned against his shoulder and whispered. “Thank you again for praying with me. You have strengthened my heart in this dark hour.”
“It is dark,” Wendell agreed. “But not so dark that the Lord’s light cannot reach us.”
“Thank you,” Laura whispered once more. She had begun to sound foolish, but not a word of her gratitude was faked. Wendell spoke words that she desperately needed to hear. Words no one else was saying.
Wendell smiled. “Well, I had best be moving on now, but don’t lose heart.”
He stood and didn’t wait for an answer before he moved into the crowd of young men.
Clare moved closer to Laura on the bench to whisper, “That took a lot of nerve.”
“He spoke goot words,” Laura said.
“But praying with you like that?” Clare’s eyes were round.
“He’s the grandson of the bishop,” Laura said, as if that answered any and all questions. Why was Clare alarmed if she wasn’t?
“I suppose we need all the prayers we can get,” Clare allowed. “Still…”
Laura glanced at Clare. “You don’t object to a miracle for John? I thought you said the family was praying for John each day.”
“Yah,” Clare said, “but only as the Lord wills. We don’t know what His will is. Surely Wendell knows this too and was just playing you along, Laura. So that in case…” She gave Laura a knowing look.
“Really! Do you think so?”
Always Close to Home Page 6