An Empty Cup

by Sarah Price

  “. . . letters to several girls and even one to Daniel. He’s the one who called us. No one read the notes until long after she left, but it sure didn’t sound good. Daniel wanted to alert you.”

  In the soft glow from the flashlights, Reuben nodded his head. “I’ll go check on her, then.”

  “The police are on their way, too,” the other male voice said.

  At the mention of the police, Rosanna couldn’t contain herself anymore. “What’s going on?”

  Reuben ignored her question long enough to bid goodnight to the two men. When he shut the door and turned around, his face looked angry. She knew it wasn’t just because he had been awakened at such a late hour. “Best get dressed, Rosanna,” he said. “I’ll be wanting you with me.”

  “What is it, Reuben? You’re scaring me.”

  “It’s Nan.” Rosanna knew by the way he said her name, low and without emotion, that whatever she had done must have been awful.

  “What did she do?”

  Reuben shook his head as he walked back to the bedroom to change his nightshirt for a regular white-collared button-down one. Rosanna followed his example and changed into a dress. “Not gut,” he mumbled. “She joined up with the youth gathering tonight and handed out letters to some of the girls. Said it was her good-bye letter.” He talked as he dressed. “Told everyone she was fired and going away.”

  “So why are police involved?” Rosanna asked.

  He gestured for her to hurry. “One of the girls opened the letter about two hours later.” He paused and shook his head. “Nan . . . she told everyone that she’s going to . . .” His voice drifted away. He couldn’t speak the words, but from the look on his face, Rosanna immediately understood. “Said that she couldn’t continue living like this, the pain is too much.”

  “Oh dear Lord!”

  “I’ll get the buggy ready.” He didn’t wait for Rosanna’s reply as he disappeared into the darkness of the kitchen.

  Twenty minutes later, they pulled into the driveway at the shop. Leaving the buggy tied to the hitching post, Reuben ran toward the house. Without even knocking, he burst through the door. Rosanna followed him inside.

  Nan was on the kitchen floor, leaning against a cabinet with her hands on her lap, palms up. Her head lolled forward, her chin pressed against her chest. Scattered on the floor were pill bottles and a box—an assortment of over-the-counter medicine. Reuben froze inside the doorway, staring at the woman. Rosanna, however, rushed to Nan’s side.

  Kneeling beside her, Rosanna reached for Nan’s hand and held it as she tried to awaken her. “Nan, can you hear me? Nan?”

  “Is she breathing?” Reuben asked.

  Rosanna shook Nan, just a little, and called her name one more time. The younger woman’s eyes fluttered open. Through narrow slits, she tried to focus on Rosanna.

  “Nan, what did you take?” Rosanna asked.

  Weakly, Nan attempted to point toward the floor. Her eyes drooped shut, and her hand fell back onto her lap.

  “How many?” Rosanna gave her another shake. “Answer me. How many did you take?”

  Nan took a deep breath and tried to open her eyes again. “Fif—fifteen.”

  Reuben leaned down and picked up the medicine. Rosanna stared at him expectantly, waiting for him to identify the pills. With his lips pressed together, he shook his head. He looked annoyed. “Allergy medicine.” He met Rosanna’s eyes. “She’ll sleep, but she’ll be fine.”

  “I . . . I took a lot,” Nan whispered, her eyes rolling slightly to the right. “I should have taken more.”

  Rubbing Nan’s hand, Rosanna quieted her. “Hush now. None of that.”

  The sound of a siren interrupted the silence, and red lights flashed against the wall. Reuben glanced out the window. “Police are here.”

  Rosanna remained by Nan’s side, still holding her hand. Regardless of her feelings for the woman, Rosanna wanted to offer as much comfort as she could. It wasn’t that long ago that she, too, had felt desperate and worthless and as if she were at the bottom of a dark pit that was caving in, burying her in its blackness. While suicide had never actually crossed her mind, she certainly could understand the despair and depression that could lead someone down that path.

  Two police officers entered the kitchen, and Rosanna immediately recognized the one officer who had been at her farm to investigate Gloria’s complaint a few weeks earlier. He knelt down beside Nan.

  “Ma’am? Can you hear me?”

  It took all of Nan’s effort to respond with a small nod.

  “Can you tell me what happened here?”

  Nan managed to point to the pills.

  “Did you take those?” He glanced over his shoulder at his partner and made a gesture. Immediately the second officer disappeared outside while the first officer returned his attention to Nan. “Ma’am, how many pills did you take?”

  “Twenty.”

  Rosanna frowned and shook her head. “That’s not what she said when we arrived,” she told him. “She said she took fifteen.”

  The officer acknowledged her information and turned back to Nan. “Was it twenty? Or was it fifteen?” he asked.

  “A lot,” Nan mumbled. “I took a lot.”

  When the officer didn’t ask another question, Rosanna took the opportunity to ask her own. “Is she going to be all right, then?”

  “We have an ambulance coming.” He stood up, his knees cracking. “They’ll take her to the hospital. Are you family?”

  Reuben cleared his throat and stepped forward. Rosanna knew he felt uncomfortable, but she was having a hard time reading his reaction. He looked concerned and irritated at the same time. “Nee, but she has a bruder that lives here,” Reuben said. “He’s apparently not home.”

  “And no way to contact him?”

  “Does he have a cell phone, Reuben?” Rosanna asked in Deitsch. When he shook his head, she looked back at the officer. “Nee, but we can stay until he returns to the haus and tell him what’s happened,” Rosanna offered. She noticed the sharp look that Reuben gave her, and she immediately knew what he was thinking: don’t get involved. Clearly he thought her offer to wait for Samuel was just one more indication of how generous and selfless she was, and he didn’t approve. After all, hadn’t her devotion to helping others without any thought of herself nearly landed her in the hospital?

  Her thoughts were interrupted by the siren of an approaching ambulance. It stopped right in front of the house, eerie circles of red strobe lights illuminating the room. Two EMTs pushed a wheeled stretcher through the doorway while a third one, a stethoscope around his neck and a medical bag hanging from his shoulder, shone a bright handheld flashlight ahead of them.

  “Over here!” One of the policemen directed them into the kitchen where Nan still lay.

  After checking her pulse and verifying that her breathing was not overly strained, one of the medics asked the police officer about the nature and quantity of the pills she had ingested. Using a walkie-talkie attached to his belt, he shared the information with an emergency room physician at the hospital, nodding from time to time.

  “There’s no need to empty her stomach at this point,” the medic finally announced, quickly adding, “but we’ll take her to Lancaster General for further examination and to run some tests.” He looked first at Rosanna and then at Reuben. “Will one of you want to accompany her?”

  An awkward silence filled the kitchen as he waited expectantly. The other two EMTs picked up Nan in unison, obviously a well-rehearsed movement, then gently set her upon the stretcher. Without waiting, they rolled it out of the kitchen, carefully maneuvering through the narrow doorway.

  Taking a deep breath, Rosanna opened her mouth to volunteer, but Reuben, sensing that she was, once again, about to sacrifice her own well-being and much-needed rest for the benefit of someone else—someone who would neither be aware of nor appreciate the gesture—stopped her from speaking.

  “Her bruder, Samuel, should return home in a
short while, and we will make sure we have a driver on call so that he can immediately visit his schwester at the hospital.”

  For a long while after the red strobe lights of both vehicles faded into the dark of night, Reuben and Rosanna stood in the kitchen in silence. Reuben paced the floor, his hands clasped behind his back. Rosanna, however, remained standing where she had found Nan, staring at the pill bottles, now neatly lined up on the counter.

  She wondered why the police or medical people hadn’t taken the bottles. It was the sole thought that raced through her mind. She didn’t reflect on what could have pushed Nan to do something so selfish and hurtful to the people around her. She didn’t question Nan’s real motives for such a thoughtless display of histrionics. Instead, Rosanna focused on the bottles.

  “Best go call the driver,” Reuben finally said, his voice husky and rough. He disappeared through the doorway; Rosanna did not look up when he left. She could hear his footsteps on the gravel, the crunching noise echoing in the quiet night. If she concentrated, she thought she could hear the crickets chirping in the field behind the shop.

  Five minutes later, Reuben returned. “Driver said he’d be on call for Samuel.”

  “That’s gut,” she said.

  “Rosanna . . .”

  She looked up and stared at her husband.

  The color was drained from his face, and his blue eyes, so tired and weary, watered at the corners. “I . . . I need to know . . .” He couldn’t finish the sentence.

  “Know what?”

  “Nan’s demons,” he whispered. “They are real, and they are dangerous. I need to know if you ever thought about . . .” Again his voice faltered.

  Her heart sped up, the rapid beating hurting her chest. Seeing Nan on the floor and realizing what she had done, or at least attempted to do, had shocked Rosanna. To throw away one’s life? What Rosanna had earlier thought was manipulation on Nan’s part was clearly an indication of her pain, a way of trying to garner attention and cry out for help. But to actually be so emotionally distraught as to consider suicide?

  Turning away from the pill bottles, Rosanna faced him and shook her head. “Nee, Reuben,” she whispered. “I could never do such a thing as Nan did.”

  He shut his eyes. A lone tear escaped and fell gently down his cheek. He nodded his head, as if thanking her for reassuring him. Before he could say anything, the sound of a horse’s hooves approaching the house interrupted the quiet. Listening to the rhythmic beat, Rosanna glanced at the clock and prayed that it was Samuel.

  When they heard the buggy pull into the driveway, Reuben straightened his shoulders and walked to the door with firm resolve. There he waited in silence for Samuel to enter the house. Rosanna watched her husband’s back, his broad shoulders blocking her view. She couldn’t help but wonder about Samuel’s reaction. Had he noticed their horse and buggy in the driveway? Did he notice that, despite the late hour, the kitchen light was still on?

  Reuben opened the door for him. “Samuel . . . ?”

  As the young man entered, he looked around, and his eyes—almost coal black in color—landed on Rosanna. Unlike Nan, who was broad in the shoulders and a bit thicker around the waist, Samuel was tall and willowy with a thick shock of wavy black hair. Rosanna had forgotten how attractive he was, his skin deeply tanned from working outside all summer at various construction sites under Jonathan’s guidance. Rosanna had initially presumed that Samuel had been out with friends, but it was clear from his appearance that he was only just now returning from work.

  He tilted his head in silent greeting to Rosanna and then focused his attention on Reuben. “What’s happened?”

  “Your sister’s been taken to the hospital,” Reuben said.

  Samuel maintained a surprising sense of calm. Instead of reacting with shock or worry, he merely raised an eyebrow and took a long, deep breath. Rosanna wasn’t expecting that. She had envisioned him receiving the news with panic. After all, his parents had died, and Nan was his only family.

  After removing his hat and setting it on the kitchen table, Samuel spoke. “Is she hurt?”

  His choice of words furthered Rosanna’s uneasiness. He didn’t ask what happened or is she all right, but is she hurt? She knew that Amish—especially the men—were masters at masking emotions, but she had certainly expected more concern than that.

  “She took medications, Samuel,” Reuben said, his voice calm and steady. He reached out and placed his hand on Samuel’s shoulder. “She tried to harm herself.”

  The young man made a soft noise that sounded almost like a quick sigh of exasperation and nodded his head. “I see.”

  “I’ll have my driver pick you up in a few minutes, if you’d like,” Reuben said.

  Samuel crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the edge of the counter. “Danke, Reuben, nee.”

  Rosanna felt as if she had to reassure him. She offered him the only hope she could. “She’s going to be all right. The medical people said she didn’t take enough to hurt herself.”

  Samuel lifted an eyebrow and stared at her. There was a glazed-over look on his face, as if her words meant nothing to him. Instead of looking relieved, he looked indifferent. “She never does,” he finally said.

  At first she didn’t understand what he said. But as the meaning became apparent, Rosanna caught her breath and lifted her hand to her chest, pressing it against her heart. The idea that Samuel was not surprised shocked Rosanna almost as much as his words, but suddenly everything began to make sense. Pieces of the puzzle fell into place, and Rosanna understood. The clarity of the moment seemed to hang in the air between the three of them.

  “This . . . this has happened before?”

  Samuel maintained his composure. His solemn expression remained stoic and unaffected, not the type of reaction that Rosanna would expect from a kind, loving brother.

  “Has she done this before?” Samuel sighed as he repeated Rosanna’s question. From the expression on his face, Rosanna could tell he didn’t need to answer. But he did. “Several times, ja. It’s for attention. That’s why our daed didn’t want her to run the business. She couldn’t handle the pressure. If she made suggestions and he disagreed with her, she’d do something like this.”

  “You should have informed us,” Reuben said sharply.

  “She was taking her medicine. She is fine when she takes her medicine.”

  Rosanna glanced at Reuben. Medicine?

  “Depression medicine,” Samuel added, apparently noticing the look they exchanged. “She likes to please people, and if she thinks she’s failed, she gets depressed.”

  Rosanna lowered her eyes. She knew what he meant. Hadn’t she, too, recently gone through the same hardship of trying to please everyone until the pressure built up and her mind shut down? Her cup had been depleted—first by Timothy and then by Gloria, never mind the constant demands of her family, friends, and community.

  “Maem used to be the one to administer her medicine. When she died and Daed was in the hospital, Nan really stayed strong.” He stared at the wall behind Rosanna and Reuben, his eyes glazing over as he disappeared into his memory. “She spent every day in the hospital with him. But when she found out that Daed signed over the business to his partner and not to her, she didn’t handle it well.”

  Partner? Rosanna frowned. “We didn’t know that.”

  “Ja, his partner was our onkel. I never wanted to work with leather,” Samuel admitted. “Nan did, however. But Daed wouldn’t leave the business in the care of a woman.”

  “That’s so sad,” Rosanna whispered, more to herself than to Samuel.

  “All she wanted was his approval,” Samuel revealed. “But he always told her that a married woman had no place working.”

  Rosanna wondered if that was one of the reasons Nan had never married.

  Samuel paused and studied Reuben for a moment, and something changed in his expression. “She looked up to you, like a father figure.”

  “A replacement i
s really what you mean.” From the tone of Reuben’s voice, Rosanna knew that he was not impressed with the flattery.

  Samuel must have sensed the tension behind Reuben’s words. Leveling his gaze at the older man, Samuel frowned as he asked, “Has something else happened, Reuben?”

  “Indeed!” Reuben glared at the younger man. “You should have told us about Nan,” he repeated. “Her behavior, both professionally and personally, has been questionable. Perhaps if you had warned us, we could have intervened to help her.”

  Samuel frowned. “She didn’t want people to know.”

  Reuben shook his head. “ ‘For nothing is secret, that shall not be made manifest; neither anything hid, that shall not be known and come abroad.’ I told your schwester today that after God comes church, community, and family. Hiding the truth is never a good idea, Samuel. It festers inside until the cup tips and the contents spill out, leaving nothing behind . . .”

  “But an empty cup,” Rosanna whispered, completing her husband’s sentence.

  “This isn’t my fault,” Samuel said. “She’s a grown woman.”

  “A grown woman who needs your support,” Reuben added, his disapproval of Samuel’s reaction more than apparent. “You best go call a driver to take you to the hospital.”

  Any hint of warmth or understanding on Samuel’s face disappeared. Once again he was the solemn, expressionless man who had walked into the kitchen—the man who had barely reacted to the news that his older sister had tried to kill herself.

  Rosanna wondered if, indeed, that was the truth. Had Nan really tried to harm herself, or had she merely tried to get Reuben’s attention?

  Father figure. The two words rang in her ears. Clearly Nan and Samuel’s parents had come from a stricter community, one that valued very rigidly defined gender roles within the church district: boys worked in their father’s business and girls grew up to tend the house, garden, and family. If Nan’s father had neglected her, denying her the attention that she so obviously craved, it would make sense that she would transfer that inner desire to Reuben. Unknowingly, he had fed into her deep-rooted need to feel wanted by her father. And when he had terminated her, she had lashed out the only way she knew how in order to get his attention.