“Hi. Can I come in?”
“Sure.” Trina stepped back as he moved through the opening then closed the door behind him. “Aren’t you working today?”
“Beth is sending me on an errand.”
Trina sat back on the sofa, peering up at her cousin. Andrew had been very honest in his feelings about her pursuing veterinary science. Even though he had stopped openly discouraging her, his silence on the subject had spoken loudly about his continued disapproval. They hadn’t had time alone for several weeks, and to Trina’s regret, she realized she felt uncomfortable in his presence. The discomfort held her tongue.
“I’m taking a couple of stained-glass projects for consignment to the Fox Gallery in Wichita. The drive gets long all by myself, so I thought I’d see if you might want to go to give me some company.”
Trina’s heart skipped a beat. Wichita. Then maybe she could go by the hospital and see Graham. Immediately the anticipation plunged. Graham had said not to come. She sighed. “Mama and Dad probably won’t let me.”
Andrew worked the toe of his boot against the carpet, his brow furrowed. “I stopped by the café before coming over here. Aunt Deborah said it was okay.”
Trina’s jaw dropped. “Really?” But then, Mama had given permission to go to the gallery, not the hospital.
“And while I’m in town, I plan to go by St. Francis and take some cards and food to the Ortmanns. I figured you’d probably like to check on them, too.”
Trina bounced to her feet, cringing as pain caught her ribs. “Did you tell Mama all of this?”
“I wouldn’t be asking you otherwise. I don’t want to sneak behind her back.”
Recognizing the hidden message, Trina nodded. “I wouldn’t ask you to. That’s why I wanted to make sure.”
A slight smile finally tipped up the corners of Andrew’s mouth. “So do you want to go or not?”
“I want to go!” She started for the bedroom then turned back. Tipping her head, she sent him a curious look. “How did you convince her? She and Dad told me I couldn’t go.”
Andrew raised his shoulders in a slow shrug. “I just told her being kept away from Graham when he needs you most isn’t fair to you or to Graham.”
Trina stared, amazed that Mama had listened. “Thank you.”
Andrew nodded then pointed at her feet. “Go put your shoes on, and we can go.”
Trina scampered for her bedroom.
Trina greeted Graham’s mother with a hug that turned lengthy. The older woman clung, pressing her cheek to Trina’s.
“Oh, Trina, it’s good to see you. I’ve been so worried about you.” Mrs. Ortmann pulled back and grasped Trina’s shoulders. “How are you? Are you recovered from the accident?”
“I’m all right. Just bruises, that’s all.”
“Good. I’m so grateful.” She gave Trina another gentle hug before guiding her to a vinyl settee. It squeaked with their weight when they sat down. The waiting room was small, with windows that looked out on a courtyard. Crumpled candy wrappers, empty soda bottles, and fast-food cartons gave mute evidence of a long stay.
“Are you comfortable here?” Trina wiggled on the stiff cushion. “Is there anything else you need?”
“The hospital staff has been wonderful,” Mrs. Ortmann said. “They bring us blankets and pillows each night, and of course we have visitors from Sommerfeld who bring us food. We’re doing okay.”
Trina gestured toward Andrew, who stood in the crack of space between the window and a small table. “Andrew brought a box of snack things—crackers, fruit, candy, and granola bars.”
“That’s kind of you,” the older woman said, flashing a tired smile in Andrew’s direction. “Ed and Chuck went down to the cafeteria to get some lunch a few minutes ago, but we try to stay here in the room as much as possible. Just in case someone comes with news. We aren’t allowed much time with Graham—not while he remains in the intensive care unit.”
Trina took Mrs. Ortmann’s hands. “What is the latest news? Mama said they’re still keeping him in a coma.”
“That’s right.” The woman’s chin quivered. “He looks so pale and weak, but I suppose that’s to be expected. The not knowing is the hardest part. Until they do the surgery, we won’t know for sure the severity of the injury. It could be that they’ll be able to fix his spine and everything will be all right. It could be that there was spinal cord damage, and he won’t be all right. It’s nearly driven me mad, wondering.”
Trina swallowed hard. “I’m so sorry.”
Mrs. Ortmann pressed her lips together tightly and lifted her chin. “Well, if they follow through as planned, they’ll do surgery tomorrow. Then we should know what we’re facing. That will help.”
Trina nodded, her head down. Several minutes ticked by before Mrs. Ortmann drew in a deep breath and tugged Trina’s hands.
“So have you been doing what Graham said?”
Trina jerked her gaze up, her brow crunching. What a funny question. Obviously she’d stayed away. Trina didn’t know how to answer.
Mrs. Ortmann’s expression turned puzzled. “Your father did give you the message, didn’t he?”
A band of hurt wrapped around Trina’s chest. “Yes. He told me.”
“Good.” A smile quavered on the woman’s face. “Graham was so worried you’d fall behind because of him.”
That statement made no sense. Trina shook her head, her ribbons grazing the underside of her jaw. “Mrs. Ortmann, I’m sorry, but—”
She squeezed Trina’s hands hard. “You were the last thing he thought about before they put him under.” Tears appeared in the corners of her eyes. “I’m so glad you’re studying. Graham will feel so bad if this accident has kept you from doing your work.”
Trina’s heart thudded hard in her chest. Studying? Dad hadn’t mentioned studying—only staying away. “Mrs. Ortmann, I don’t know what you’re talking about. My father told me Graham said I shouldn’t come here.”
The woman’s eyes flew wide. “Well, he did—but somehow you only got part of the message.” She clapped her hand over her mouth. “Oh my! I hope. . .” Capturing Trina’s hand again, she leaned close, her face pursing into a look of worry. “I was so upset that night, Trina—there were people coming and going, so much activity, so much concern. I may have mixed up my words and left your father with the idea that Graham didn’t want you here.
“It is true that’s what he wanted, but not because he didn’t want to see you.” She shook her head. “He only wanted you to keep studying—not to let the accident interfere with your work. Do you understand?”
Trina understood. And she’d let Graham down by not picking up her books this week. She would make it up, though. Then she looked at her bandaged wrist and groaned. She held up the injured hand. “I want to study, Mrs. Ortmann, but I don’t know how I’ll submit my assignments. I can barely type with two good hands. I don’t know how I’ll do it with one.”
“Oh, honey.” Mrs. Ortmann offered a brief, sympathetic hug. “Can you contact your teachers? Let them know you’ve been hurt and ask if they’ll let you turn things in late? Or maybe you could talk into one of those machines. . .what are they called?”
Andrew inserted, “A tape recorder?”
“Yes!” The older woman turned to Trina, eagerness lighting her eyes. “You could say your assignments and send them in.”
“I don’t know.” Trina had never operated a tape recorder. But then, until she’d started college, she’d never used a computer, either. Yet she’d managed to master it well enough to keep up. “I—I guess I could try, though.”
“Of course you can!” Mrs. Ortmann beamed. “And as soon as Graham comes out of surgery, I’ll let him know how you’re doing and that you aren’t falling behind. If he knows you’re moving forward just like you two planned, it will give his heart a lift. It will give him a reason—” Her chin crumpled, tears spurting into her eyes. “A reason to try to get well.”
“I’ll do my best,”
Trina promised.
The door to the little room opened. Mr. Ortmann and Chuck came in, carrying a tray of food.
Trina rose, looking at Andrew. “We should get out of the way so you can eat.” She gave Mrs. Ortmann another hug, shook Mr. Ortmann’s hand, and tweaked Chuck’s ear. After their good-byes, she and Andrew headed back to the lobby.
“I’m sorry you didn’t get to see Graham,” Andrew said.
“Me, too.” Trina’s heart felt heavy with desire to see him, talk to him, touch him, and assure herself he was alive. “But maybe Mama and Dad will let me come back after he’s had his surgery and he’s no longer in the coma.”
“I’ll bring you if they can’t,” Andrew offered.
Trina held his elbow as they crossed the parking lot. “Thank you. But won’t Beth need you at the gallery?”
“Beth knows I’ll make up the hours.” Andrew opened the car door for her. “Besides, Graham is practically family. She’ll understand.”
When Andrew started the car and headed into traffic, Trina said, “What do you think of Mrs. Ortmann’s suggestion about doing my assignments on a tape recorder?”
“I think it’s better than not doing them.” Andrew glanced at her. “What would be easier—typing with one hand or speaking into a tape recorder?”
Trina laughed. “I don’t know. I haven’t tried either one of those things.”
Andrew grinned. “Well, I guess you won’t know until you try.”
Trina sighed, her laughter fading. “Andrew, I’m worried about how things will be when Graham gets out of the hospital.” It felt good to share her concern with Andrew, the way she would have before he got so angry with her. She let all of the fears of the past days spill out in a rush. “If he can’t walk, how will we live in the upstairs of his parents’ house? Will he need me to stay home and take care of him? Will he still want to marry me? What kind of job will he be able to do? I could provide for him if I become a veterinarian, but how can I leave him to go to school if he needs me to care for him?”
Andrew held up his hand, shaking his head. “Slow down, Trina. Seems to me you’re borrowing trouble.”
Despite herself, she smiled. He sounded just like the old, patient, big-brother Andrew she knew and loved.
He went on. “We don’t even know yet how severely he’s injured. Sure, it will take him awhile to recover—he’ll be having major surgery. But he could very well walk out of the hospital. I say put off all those questions until we get word from the doctor concerning how badly Graham is injured. You’ll make yourself sick worrying.”
Trina sighed. “I know you’re right, but it’s hard.”
“Put it in God’s hands, Trina. Just like you’ve done with everything you needed to accomplish to become a college student.” Andrew bumped her elbow, winking. “He took care of you, right? Now trust Him to take care of Graham.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
You have to push RECORD and PLAY at the same time, Katrinka, remember?” Beth pointed to the two side-by-side buttons on the 1980s cassette tape recorder. “If you don’t push them both, it doesn’t record.”
Trina’s face fell. “You mean this whole morning’s work didn’t record?”
Beth shook her head. When Andrew had returned Wednesday and mentioned the possibility of Trina’s using a tape recorder, Beth had taken it upon herself to locate one. She’d visited three pawnshops before finding one in good working condition with a built-in microphone. But finding it proved to be easier than teaching Trina to use it.
Twice now, Trina had neglected to push the right buttons to record, and once she’d accidentally overwritten everything by hitting both buttons when she meant to listen to what she’d recorded previously. Although they’d both laughed at the puzzled “Why am I not hearing anything? Where’s the assignment? Oh, what did I do wrong now?” that took the place of the work intended to be there, Beth didn’t want a repeat. It took too much time to replace the errors, and Trina was already playing catch-up thanks to the accident.
“I’m sorry, but no. Look carefully and make sure both buttons are all the way down before you start talking.”
Tears glittered briefly in Trina’s eyes; then she blinked them away. “All right. So before I start working on my history paper, I’ll try again to record the grammar assignments.”
Beth smiled at the determined set to Trina’s jaw. “Both buttons!” she said before turning back to the computer. She listened to Trina go through the grammar exercises, her voice steady and enunciation precise. It was good to keep Trina busy today—Graham’s surgery had been scheduled for eight o’clock that morning. His mother had promised to call as soon as he was out. Beth intended to keep Trina too occupied to watch the clock, even if it meant spending the whole day away from the studio. Andrew was capable of running things over there, and she could do whatever planning she needed to do on her home computer.
Computer. She smiled, sending a secretive glance over her shoulder at Trina. Wouldn’t Trina be surprised when she found out what Beth had hidden in the bedroom? The shipment had arrived late yesterday afternoon, and Beth’s eyes had filled with tears when she realized how perfect the timing was of its arrival. God had met a need before Trina knew it would exist.
Regardless of how the surgery turned out, Graham would need attention for several weeks. If she knew Trina, the girl wouldn’t want to leave him alone in the evenings. Thanks to Sean’s “compromise,” it wouldn’t be necessary for her to come to Beth’s or the studio to use a computer again.
Although Beth suggested a desktop, Sean insisted on purchasing a laptop—something Trina could carry to class with her, if need be. It wasn’t a top-of-the-line model, but it had adequate memory, wireless Internet capabilities, and several programs including word processing, budget helps, and spreadsheet templates that could come in handy when Trina was charting the care given to furry critters later down the line. When Sean returned from his latest trip, they would present the laptop to Trina together. Although Beth itched to do it now, it had been Sean’s idea in the first place, so he should be involved.
Beth suspected Trina would argue about taking the gift, but Beth could be stubborn, too. She’d make Trina understand how much she’d need that computer, especially when she and Graham left Sommerfeld. Suddenly a wave of sadness struck. Of all the people in Sommerfeld—other than Mom and Henry, of course—Trina was her favorite. The town wouldn’t be the same without her.
But she’d be back, Beth reminded herself, turning her attention to the computer screen. With that new veterinarian taking over Dr. Groening’s clinic, maybe Trina could establish her own clinic right here in Sommerfeld. It would be harder starting from scratch, but she had a rapport with the community that would encourage people to come to her. Beth suspected Trina had the gumption it would take to make a brand-new veterinary clinic run successfully, and it would be fun to watch it all happen.
Trina’s voice stopped, and a click signaled she’d turned off the machine. Beth swiveled in her seat. “All done?”
“With the English,” Trina reported with a sigh. “Now on to the—”
The telephone rang, and both women jumped, spinning toward the sound.
“It’s probably about Graham.” Trina rose from the table, straining toward the telephone.
Beth snatched it up on the second ring. “Hello?”
“Hello, Beth.” Deborah Muller’s voice. “We just got the call from Mrs. Ortmann. May I talk to Trina?”
Beth’s hand trembled as she held the phone to Trina. “It’s your mom. She has news on Graham.”
Trina dashed around the table and snatched the receiver from Beth’s hand. Beth leaned close to listen, too. Trina rasped, “Yes? How is he?”
“The doctor said they successfully replaced the damaged vertebrae with a piece of cadaver bone.” Relief carried clearly through the line. “There was a bone sliver dangerously close to the spinal cord, but it didn’t appear to have punctured the cord. The doctor felt confident Graham wi
ll eventually regain use of his legs.”
Beth let out a war whoop, and Trina burst into tears. Trina shoved the receiver into Beth’s hands and sank down at the table, burying her face in her arms. Beth asked all the questions she knew Trina would want answered: How long would Graham be in the hospital? Would he require rehabilitation? When might he be able to return to work? Would they be able to proceed as planned for their wedding?
To Beth’s surprise, Deborah responded to each question without a hint of impatience. And when Beth ran out of questions, Deborah said, “Thank you, Beth, for helping Trina and keeping her busy this morning. We appreciate you.” The line went dead before Beth could reply.
She placed the receiver back in its cradle, shaking her head in wonder. Funny how conflict brought people together. . .
Sitting next to Trina, she put her arm around the younger woman’s heaving shoulders.
“I–I’m so sorry.” Her face still hidden against her arms, Trina’s voice came out muffled and broken. “I d–don’t know w–why I’m crying now.”
Beth chuckled, rubbing Trina’s shoulders. “Go ahead and cry. I would imagine there’s a lot of pent-up worry behind the tears. When you’re done, I’ll tell you everything your mom said about Graham, and then we’ll walk over to the café and have some lunch to celebrate a successful surgery.”
A half hour later, Trina splashed her face with cold water, and the two women headed to the café. The dining room was full of excited, chattering Sommerfeld residents, all seeming to discuss Graham’s surgery. Trina got pulled into the conversations, so Beth sneaked into the kitchen to find Deborah.
“It’s wonderful news about Graham’s legs,” Beth said by way of greeting.
Deborah used her apron to wipe her brow and nodded. “An answer to prayer.”
Beth agreed. “But I’ve been wondering. Rehabilitation could take several months. Who knows how long it will be before Graham is able to work? I know Trina is going back to Groening’s clinic on Monday, so she’ll have a little income, but how will they get by?”
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