A Widow's Hope

by Vannetta Chapman

  “How long were you in the hospital?”

  “The first time...four weeks. I went back for three other procedures. Those other stays were shorter—three to five days most of the time.”

  “Must have been difficult.”

  “Ya. Being here, under the fluorescent lights with the constant whir and beeping of Englisch machines, it grated on me after a while. I think the worst part was being away from everything that was a part of my life—the farm and workshop and family.” He blinked away the tears and punched the button for black coffee.

  “I meant the surgeries must have been hard, the pain of the injuries.”

  “Ya, that too.”

  “I’m sorry we weren’t there for you, son.”

  Jacob jerked at the use of the word son, or perhaps it was the touch of Alton’s hand on his shoulder that surprised him.

  “I barely knew you then, Alton.”

  “And yet you were a part of our community.”

  “It was after we’d divided into two districts.”

  “Still, we are connected through our history, through being one community before. We aren’t so big that we can’t still care for one another.” Alton cleared his throat and chose a coffee with cream and sugar. When he turned to study Jacob, a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. “Claire and I believe that Gotte brought you into Hannah’s life for a reason...into all our lives. You’ve been a gut friend to her and maybe something more, ya?”

  “I have feelings for your doschder, if that’s what you’re asking, but I’m not sure...that is, I don’t know if Hannah...”

  “Have you asked her?”

  “About how she felt? Nein. It took all of my courage to ask her to Saturday’s picnic.”

  Hannah’s father laughed and steered them back toward the waiting room. “Young love presents its own challenges. You and Hannah, you will find your way.”

  Is that what he felt for Hannah?

  Love?

  Something pushed against his ribs, and he thought of the cardinal in the garden he’d seen just that afternoon, of Hannah smiling as she agreed to go to the picnic with him, of the way that Judith had brought such sadness to her, of Matthew smiling as he donned his conductor’s hat and asked to be pushed out to the playhouse.

  Ya, he did love her. He loved them both, and as soon as he had a chance he planned to make sure she knew.

  * * *

  Hannah had only moved from Matthew’s side to use the restroom. She was aware that her parents were in the waiting room, but she didn’t want to go to them until she had some answers. Matthew was still sleeping fitfully, waking every few minutes to attempt to cough the congestion up from his lungs.

  A woman in a white coat walked into the room carrying a computer tablet and wearing a stethoscope. “I’m Dr. Hardin. You must be Matthew’s mother.” She looked awfully young to be a doctor. Her hair was cut in a short red shag, and she wore large owlish glasses.

  “Ya, I’m Matthew’s mamm. Is he all right? Did we get here in time?”

  “You did the right thing bringing him in so quickly. Often parents wait, hoping the situation will improve on its own. In this case, your quick decisiveness probably saved Matthew a potentially long stay in the hospital.”

  Hannah had to sit then. Actually she fell into the chair behind her. She hadn’t realized how heavy the weight of her guilt was until it was lifted from her. She felt so light that she might simply fly away.

  “They explained to me when Matthew was first hurt that it was something we must watch for...” Tears clogged her voice, and she found she couldn’t finish the sentence.

  Dr. Hardin patted her shoulder, then moved to Matthew’s side. She listened to his chest, checked his pulse, placed a hand against his forehead. Hannah knew well enough that the nurse had already done these things, and she appreciated the doctor’s attention all the more for it.

  She also was comforted by the fact that Dr. Hardin spoke softly to Matthew the entire time she was examining him. She seemed to understand that he was more than just a patient in a bed.

  He was a young boy who was scared and hurting.

  He was a young boy with a family that loved him very much.

  Hannah liked this doctor and trusted her immediately.

  “The chest X-rays do show pneumonia, and the CBC confirms that.”

  “His blood count...”

  “Exactly. Since it’s the bacterial form, we’ll start him on some IV antibiotics, give him some breathing treatments and he should be feeling better soon.” She entered data on her tablet as she spoke. Finally she glanced up and looked directly at Hannah. “I won’t sugarcoat it. Children with a spinal cord injury have a harder time recovering from these events. We could be looking at a rough forty-eight hours, but if he responds to the antibiotics, Matthew will be much better within a few days.”

  “Danki.”

  “You’re welcome. Do you have any questions?”

  “Only, did I do something wrong? Where did he...catch this?”

  Dr. Hardin was shaking her head before Hannah finished her question. “You can’t keep him in a bubble. Matthew could have picked it up anywhere—the store, the library, even at a church service. The important thing is that you recognized the symptoms immediately.”

  “Only I didn’t. I wasn’t home today, and my mother didn’t know...”

  “You got him here in plenty of time, and it helps that he’s a healthy young guy. Apparently he’s eating well and getting plenty of exercise.”

  “Ya, both of those things.”

  Dr. Hardin squeezed Matthew’s hand and then walked back around the bed. She stopped beside Hannah and placed a hand on her shoulder. “If you have any questions, ask the nurses or ask them to call me. I’m here most of the time, and I’ll be happy to come down and talk to you.”

  “What happens next?”

  “A nurse will come in and start the antibiotics. He needs rest to fight the infection, so expect him to sleep a lot. We’ll also continue breathing treatments, and when he’s strong enough we’ll get him up and around—that’s very important with pneumonia patients. We’ll do X-rays again tomorrow to be sure that he’s improving.”

  Dr. Hardin had made it to the door when she turned and said, “By the way, Matthew’s grandparents have been asking how he’s doing. They’re in the waiting room down the hall. You might want to give them a status update.”

  Hannah nodded, but she was suddenly completely exhausted. She wasn’t sure she could drag herself down there. Still, her parents deserved to know.

  A nurse, an older black man who had introduced himself as Trevor, changed out the bag attached to Matthew’s IV. He hummed softly as he worked, and Hannah thought that maybe he was humming a hymn...one of the old ones that both Amish and Englisch sang.

  I am weak, but thou art strong,

  Jesus keep me from all wrong.

  He glanced up at her and smiled.

  “That’s the antibiotics that you’re adding to his IV?”

  “Yes, it is. Our little man didn’t even wake up, which is good. He’s resting. If you’d like to step out of the room, I’m sure he will be fine.”

  “Okay. Perhaps for just a minute...”

  “Go. Matthew’s fan club is quite worried.”

  Hannah didn’t know what he meant by fan club, but she did need to speak to her parents. She took one last look at her son, pushed through the door and trudged down the hall.

  * * *

  Jacob happened to look up at the exact moment Hannah appeared in the waiting room. She looked so tired, so vulnerable, that he jumped up and went to her.

  She raised her eyes to his. “He’s going to be okay. They think...they think we made it here in time.”

  The words were softly spoken, but everyone heard, perhaps because everyone had stopped what the
y were doing at the sight of her.

  As her words sank in, there was much slapping on the back, calls of “praise Gotte” and nodding heads—almost as if everyone knew that would be the answer. They’d believed that Gotte wasn’t done with young Matthew yet. His life wasn’t complete.

  Jacob led Hannah over to her parents, who were standing now, smiling and obviously relieved.

  “Hannah, I’m so sorry that I didn’t realize how sick he was. I should have...should have called you earlier. Should have rung the emergency bell or...”

  Hannah pulled her mother into a hug. “You did fine. You put him into bed and were caring for him. What more could I ask?”

  “So he’s going to be all right?” her father asked.

  “The doctor said the next forty-eight hours will be critical, but she thinks that we made it here in time.”

  “That’s gut. That’s such a relief,” her mother said.

  Her father nodded. “It is gut, and we’ll stay with you as long as you need us. You’re not alone in this.”

  “I know I’m not, and I appreciate the offer, but you should all go home.” Hannah turned toward the group. “Danki, danki all of you for coming and for praying for me and for Matthew. I appreciate it more than you know. Don’t feel...don’t feel that you need to stay.”

  But no one was willing to go home just yet.

  The boys were now laughing as they played checkers.

  Hannah’s sisters had rushed over to hear the news and now they were hugging her and asking what things they could bring up for her the next day.

  Her mom shooed everyone away and insisted that she sit and eat one of the muffins. “You have to keep your strength up, dear.”

  Bishop Jethro fetched her a cup of coffee.

  Bishop Amos tapped his Bible and proclaimed that Gotte was gut.

  Sally handed her a lap blanket that she’d finished knitting. “Hospital rooms can be quite cold. Please, take it. I didn’t know who it was for when I started it, only that someone would need it. As I finished, though, these last few hours, I prayed for both you and Matthew.”

  It seemed that everyone wanted to offer her a word of encouragement, a touch, something to let her know that she had friends and families with her as she traveled this difficult path. But it was Jacob who stayed at her side the entire time. He didn’t even consider leaving. Her pain was his pain, and her exhaustion he would try to bolster with his strength. After only a few minutes, she was ready to go back to Matthew’s room.

  “Can I walk you?”

  “Of course.”

  They padded quietly down the hall, shoulder to shoulder, her hand in his.

  When they finally reached Matthew’s room, Hannah said, “You can come in if you like.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Ya. Matthew will ask if you’ve been here. He thinks of you as quite the hero.”

  “I’m no hero,” Jacob protested.

  “To that four-year-old boy lying in the bed, you are.”

  And what am I to you? The question was on his lips, but he bit it back. Hannah’s attention was on her son, and she was no doubt exhausted, plus the next few days would be arduous. The last thing she needed was questions from him about their relationship.

  He satisfied himself with saying, “You know, you didn’t have to make a trip to the hospital to get out of your date with me.”

  Hannah smiled, and stared down at her hands and then looked back up at him. Rising on her tiptoes, she kissed him on the cheek. “Oh, you think I want out of it, do you?”

  “Crossed my mind.”

  “I could just say I have to wash my hair.”

  “You could.”

  “I wouldn’t.”

  “That’s gut to know.” He reached out and placed his palm against her cheek.

  She closed her eyes for a moment and he wondered if she missed that...the physical touch of another. She’d been married before. She knew of the intimacies between a man and a woman. Her life had to be lonelier for the loss of it.

  They walked into the room hand in hand, and when Jacob saw Matthew in the bed, his heart flipped like a fish that had landed on the bank of a river. The boy looked so impossibly small and vulnerable, and yet he had the heart of a warrior. Who had said that? His nephew, on the ride over.

  And it was true.

  Jacob pulled up a chair and sat there, holding Matthew’s hand and praying silently for the young boy. Hannah used the time he was there to go into the restroom, freshen up and go to the nursing station. When she returned with a pillow and blanket, he jumped up to take them from her and place them in the chair.

  “You’re going to sleep here?”

  “I doubt I will sleep, but ya.”

  “You want to be with him.”

  “In case he wakes up. Before...sometimes he would wake up in the hospital and not recognize where he was and be frightened.”

  “You’ll let us know if you need anything? You can call my phone in the shop. I can sleep there in case—”

  “I need you to convince those people out there to go home.”

  “Our freinden?”

  Hannah smiled again, the weariness momentarily erased. “Ya, our freinden. Especially the children. They have school tomorrow.”

  “I’ll tell them you said so.”

  He kissed the top of her head before he left. It seemed hardly adequate to show how he felt. He would find a better way. He would show her that he loved her and then he would tell her. He would make sure that both Matthew and Hannah knew.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Matthew’s stay in the hospital lasted longer than anyone could have guessed. His birthday came and went. The days on the calendar slipped by, one after another, until October loomed in front of them. Matthew would improve one day only to slide back for three more. Dr. Hardin assured Hannah that this was normal, that he was fighting a particularly virulent form of bacterial pneumonia and that they were doing all of the right things.

  Hannah’s parents brought fresh clothes for her and would sit with Matthew to give her a few moments out of the room.

  The nurses brought plates of food, even though Matthew was rarely awake enough to eat. “Then it’s for you,” they assured her. “You need to stay strong too.”

  Both bishops visited Hannah often, counseled with her and assured her that many people were praying for Matthew.

  Her sisters, brothers-in-law and nieces visited every few days. They joked that someone should install a bus line to the hospital, “We’d keep it busy with folks visiting Matthew. He’s a very popular guy.” Sharon and Beth both had less than two months until their babies were due, and Hannah worried that the traveling back and forth wasn’t healthy for them or the babies.

  “I want to get out of the house,” Sharon admitted. “My girls are turning seven soon, but they think they’re turning thirteen. I caught one with lipstick. Now, where did she get that?”

  Beth nodded in sympathy. “Naomi went through that phase too, and I suspect she’ll go through it again.”

  She loved having her sisters and her parents and her church family there. For the first time in a long time, she realized that she wasn’t alone, that others were willing and eager to lend a hand.

  But it was Jacob that she longed to see each day.

  He always appeared, though the time varied. If he had a job in the area, he would stop by at lunch. If he was working at home, he’d wait until the end of the day and bring her something fresh to eat from Emily for dinner.

  They didn’t speak of the date that had never happened or of the kiss in the buggy, but she thought of both often—especially in the middle of the night when she woke and couldn’t go back to sleep.

  Each time Jacob visited, he brought something for Matthew, and those items lined the windowsill—a wooden train, a book, a piece
of candy for when he was well. The string of items was a testament to how long they’d been in this holding pattern, how long Matthew had been battling his illness, how faithful Jacob was.

  He always stayed for at least an hour and allowed Hannah to vent her worries, to cry occasionally, to admit when she was discouraged or afraid or depressed. He never judged her and never questioned her faith, but instead he simply held her hand and assured her that he was there.

  On the days when Matthew was better, was actually awake and talkative, they laughed at Jacob’s stories of playhouses that he’d built, of getting stuck inside one that was supposed to resemble a baseball dugout, of forgetting to build a door in one that he’d designed to resemble a hobbit’s home.

  “What’s a hobbit?” Matthew asked. He had to pull in a deep breath after he spoke, but his color was better and the doctor was talking about sending him home if his improvement continued.

  “You haven’t read him Tolkien?” Jacob’s eyes widened in mock disbelief.

  “We’ve been a little busy.”

  “Then perhaps I will pick it up from the library.”

  But instead of doing that, he’d purchased a copy at the local bookstore. After that, he’d read to Matthew for at least thirty minutes each day. Hannah had trouble understanding why that meant so much to her, why it touched her heart, but it did.

  She admitted as much to her mother one day as she was walking her to the elevator.

  “Why shouldn’t it?” Her mother pulled Hannah away from the elevator. “Your heart is tender, Hannah. You’ve been through a lot in the last few years.”

  “That’s an understatement.”

  “And for a time you closed off your feelings.”

  Hannah crossed her arms. She knew that her mother was correct, that it was an observation, not a criticism, but it was still difficult for her to think of the months following David’s death and Matthew’s accident.

  “It’s one thing to bring a gift to someone.” Her mother reached out and pulled one of Hannah’s kapp strings forward. “It’s another thing entirely to spend time beside a bed, reading, simply bringing a small amount of joy into a person’s life.”