by Ruth Reid
“The doktah, the nurses . . . You said the case was closed.”
“Are you at the hospital?”
She nodded, her voice too choked up to speak.
“Hello, Mrs. Diener? Can you hear me?”
“Jah,” she squeaked. “I’m at . . . the hospital. I have to know what’s wrong with mei sohn.”
“Is someone there with you? Someone I can talk—”
“He’s just a boppli. I know he’s scared without me by his side.” She leaned her shoulder against the concrete wall where the courtesy phone hung, twisting the long cord between her fingers. “I thought this nightmare was over—I believed you.”
“You sit tight. I’m on my way.”
Mattie caught a glimpse of a hospital worker in blue scrubs in her peripheral vision and hung up the phone. The nurse walked into the waiting room and circled to leave. “No, wait.” Mattie rushed to the woman and clamped her hand over the nurse’s arm. “How is mei sohn?”
“The doctor is still running tests on him.”
“Can I see him?”
The nurse shook her head. “Doctor Wellington asked that you continue to wait here.”
“But he needs me.”
The nurse flinched and looked down at Mattie clasping her arm.
Mattie hadn’t realized her grip had tightened. She released her hold. “I’m sorry. I—I’m worried. I want to know if mei sohn is okay. I want to see him.”
“I’m sure the doctor will have news shortly.” The nurse left the room.
Mattie paced to the end of the small waiting area and back. The vinyl cushioned chairs positioned along the wall were all empty. A coffee table in the corner of the room held a lamp and a stack of magazines. Nothing she was interested in looking at. Her mind was too restless, too worried. A framed picture of children flying kites on a windy day caught her eye. The children looked happy, carefree. If only her Nathan could enjoy a few blissful days. The room was quiet, the television blessedly silent. She wanted to pray. But the only word that came was why. Why did God allow this to happen? Stop, she scolded herself. If she kept asking why, what was to stop God from turning His ear from her cry?
Don’t abandon me now, please. She closed her eyes. Focus on praise.
Lord, You are kind and compassionate. Full of grace and mercy—full of wonder. There is none like You. You alone can tell the wind where to blow, command the mountains to fall down, and send rain to these dry bones. You alone can heal Nathan.
Warm tears spilled down her face. Thankfully, Amanda was with Grace and Ben and not in the room to witness her mother’s emotional unraveling. Her daughter’s sensitive nature made her skittish around strangers—even church members—and more so when Amanda sensed change. If her child shut down emotionally, Mattie might too.
Lord, where are You? Tell me Nathan will be all right.
Mattie lapped the room another time.
“Mama!”
Mattie spun around at the sound of her daughter’s high-pitched squeal. Amanda leaned out from Grace’s hold, extending her little arms toward Mattie. “Mama.”
A flash of guilt sped through Mattie as Grace passed Amanda to her. Her little girl needed her mother.
Grace took a seat opposite Mattie. “Have you heard anything?”
“Only that the doktah is still running tests. Where’s Ben?”
“He’s dawdling near the nurses’ desk, hoping to overhear some news.”
Mattie bounced Amanda in her arms. It gave her a reason to burn some energy and brought a sweet smile to her daughter’s face at the same time.
A few moments later, Ben entered the room, head down.
“Anything?” Grace asked.
Ben shook his head. “They’re as tight-lipped as a sealed jar of jam.”
Grace leaned her head out the door and looked both ways. “I don’t understand. What reason do they have to be so closemouthed?”
“They won’t let me see him either,” Mattie said.
Grace looked at her husband. “Can they do that? Can they keep a mother away from her boppli?”
“Maybe their tests are such that another person would be in the way.”
Mattie hoped it wasn’t something more serious. By the time they arrived at the hospital, Nathan’s temperature was normal, but several places on his body had turned a dark shade of red. The emergency room doctor was alarmed enough to admit him immediately. She couldn’t shake the haunting image of the doctor’s stern glare after he studied the chart from Nathan’s previous admission.
Mattie eased into a chair, cradling Amanda close in her arms. She gently stroked her daughter’s soft cheek with the pads of her fingers. Amanda’s eyelids flickered closed, then opened as she fought sleep. This unfamiliar environment and the booming voice that spoke from time to time over the loudspeaker startled her every time. Finally, her tiny frame wilted, and her heavy eyelids remained closed. Soon we will all go home, sleep in our own beds, and everything will return to normal. I promise.
She glanced at Grace and Ben, who were seated next to the lamp table in the corner of the room. Ben flipped through the pages of a magazine from the table, and Grace removed a ball of yarn and knitting needles from her handbag. They were good friends.
“You two don’t have to stay. I’ll be okay.”
“We want to be here with you.” Grace motioned to Amanda asleep in Mattie’s arms. “If she starts to get heavy or you need to stretch your legs, I’ll be glad to hold her.”
“Danki.” Mattie gazed at her daughter, wishing she could find the same peaceful rest.
Bo reached the waiting room and spotted Mattie immediately. Holding Amanda in her arms, Mattie’s head was back, her face tilted upward, staring at the ceiling without blinking. He stood in the doorway a brief moment, studying her blotchy face, her red-rimmed eyes puffy from crying. Something about her weariness wrenched his heart. At the moment, her sweet, gentle spirit and simple ways were vulnerable to a world she knew nothing about. Prompted to say something positive—something reassuring—a lump grew in his throat, blocking his ability to speak. He crossed the room in a few long strides and stood before her. “Mrs. Diener?”
Slowly, she turned her attention to him. Her bright-blue eyes, dim with despair, locked with his.
He cleared his throat. “How are you doing?” He could answer that question himself. Her eyes were glazed, and the careworn expression depicted a person who’d cried endless hours and looked near exhausted.
“I’m okay.” Her weak voice said different. She sat up straighter, repositioning the sleeping infant in her lap to do so. “I’m sorry I interrupted you. I didn’t expect you to come.”
“You weren’t interrupting anything.” He motioned to the chair. “Would it be all right if I sit down?”
Mattie looked beyond him.
Bo followed her gaze over his shoulder to an Amish woman and man seated across the room. The woman’s hands seemed to be frozen midstitch. The man, a few years younger than Bo, closed the magazine he’d been reading. An outsider asking to sit next to an Amish woman wouldn’t bode well in their district. He could almost hear the chatter already. Even something as simple as wanting to help Mattie would be perceived by some Amish as detestable—evil for a woman of faith to allow an Englischer to sit so close. He shouldn’t have put her on the spot.
“I don’t mind if you sit, Mr. Lambright.”
He looked behind him again at the couple. They eyed him carefully with hardened, unyielding expressions. No surprise. Of course they wouldn’t appreciate an outsider conversing with their friend or maybe relative. But Mattie had called him.
Bo eased into the chair beside Mattie and turned to face her. “I take it Nathan’s condition didn’t get any better.”
“He started vomiting. I thought it was the medicine, but his fever shot up too.”
“How is he now?”
She lowered her head and fiddled with her daughter’s dress, straightening the wrinkled folds in the maroon material. “I h
aven’t heard anything.”
“Still? You called me over an hour ago.” Judging by the couple shuffling in their seats behind him, they didn’t approve of Mattie’s call. She would be in trouble with her district, no doubt. But once he recognized the desperation in her voice over the phone, he’d made arrangements with his mother to drive Josh back to his foster home so Bo could go directly to the hospital.
“All they said was that they were running tests and I should wait here.” She looked him in the eye. “Why are they keeping me from him?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. What type of tests are they running?”
She shrugged. “The nurse didn’t say.”
Odd. Most families are encouraged to stay with their child. Especially someone as young as Nathan, who didn’t speak much English. “How long have you been here?”
Mattie looked at the couple.
“Three hours,” the woman said.
“Closer to four.” The man stood and set the magazine on the table. “I don’t have much experience with hospitals, but it seems strange for a doktah or even a nurse not to update Mattie on her sohn’s condition.”
“I agree.” If the child were his, Bo would stand at the nurses’ station and refuse to budge until someone talked with him. He wouldn’t have demonstrated nearly the patience and self-control Mattie had if the roles had been reversed. Faith was her pillar of strength. No one but God could give her such resilience.
The bearded man walked to the far side of the room and turned around. “Maybe being Amish has something to do with the worker’s avoidance.”
Bo shook his head. “I don’t think so, Mr. . . .”
The man halted midstep and faced Bo. “Eicher.” He paused a half second, and his expression softened. “But you can call me Ben.” He motioned to the woman holding the knitting needles. “This is mei wife, Grace. We’re Mattie’s neighbors.”
“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Bo Lambright.” He skipped sharing his association with Mattie. If they were a tight community like most Amish districts, they already knew his involvement. Besides, Grace looked like the same woman he’d seen at Mattie’s house the day he delivered the antibiotic. An Englischer in her house would have brought up an arsenal of questions. More would follow gauging by the couple’s initial reaction. The fact that Mattie had been bold enough to call him said a lot about her character. Although after meeting her the first time, he’d noted her demeanor wasn’t as meek as he’d expected. Probably why he had a difficult time erasing her from his thoughts.
“Maybe you can get some information about Nathan,” Grace said. “The staff has gone out of their way to avoid us.”
“You got that right,” Ben said, adding, “A nurse even turned and walked the other way when she made eye contact with me.”
A coincidence? Or did it have something to do with Mattie signing Nathan out of the hospital the last time against medical advice?
Mattie, who had been silently coiling a lock of her daughter’s light-brown hair around her finger, looked up when the conversation stopped. She released the tiny curl and wiped her tearstained face with her hand.
Feeling pressure to ease her bewildered expression, words spilled out of Bo’s mouth. “I’ll try to find out whatever I can. Although I must warn you, I don’t think they’ll tell me anything since I’m not here on official business.”
She sniffled. “Would you please ask them if I can see him? I don’t want him to think I left him.”
Bo’s heart softened to mush. A mother shouldn’t be separated from her child this long. Not when there wasn’t a justifiable cause. He stood. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Lord, give me wisdom. She’s desperate, and I don’t know how to help her.
Bo headed down the hallway. A man dressed in a chef’s coat was unloading food trays from a dietary cart. The scent of meat loaf teased his stomach. Mattie’s call had taken him by such surprise that he left the house without even thinking about grabbing one of the ham and cheese sandwiches to eat on his way to Badger Creek. Had Mattie eaten anything all day? It was after six. He recalled as a child, supper was always on time.
A blond-haired nurse sat behind the large desk. “Can I help you?”
“Yes, can you tell me what room Nathan Diener is in?”
“Are you a family member, sir?”
“No.”
“I’m sorry. I cannot release that information.”
“It is visiting hours, isn’t it?” His watch wasn’t wrong. And the sign posted on the wall clearly stated visitation was until nine.
“I’m just going by the doctor’s . . . orders—you look familiar.” Her brows squeezed together. “Child Services?”
“Yes, that’s right. We met the other day,” Bo said calmly. “Will you check if the doctor is available to speak with me?” The nurse didn’t need to know he wasn’t there on official business.
“I’ll have her paged.” The nurse picked up the phone, dialed zero, and waited. “This is the charge nurse, Heather Merchant. Will you page Doctor Wellington to call the nurses’ station, please?” She lowered the receiver. “It shouldn’t be long, but if you’d like to sit in the waiting room, I’ll let you know when the doctor calls back.”
“I think I’ll wait here, if you don’t mind.” Nurses were trained not to talk about patient information in public areas, but he’d overheard privileged information before by loitering by the desk.
“Can I get you a cup of coffee while you wait? I think the pot in the lounge is fresh.”
“No, thank you.” He strolled a few feet away, but still within earshot, and leaned against the wall. His mind began to sort the details. No visitors allowed—including the mother. The nurse hadn’t been surprised to see him again. A sinking feeling washed over him. He dug his hand into his pocket and retrieved his cell phone. No messages. Maybe he was too analytical. He hadn’t picked up anything suspicious from Mattie. Worry, fear, natural signs. Bo sighed. Maybe he’d missed key clues because he’d been too consumed by the pain in her eyes to detect anything wrong with the situation.
Bo pushed off the wall. He returned to the desk. “I think I will wait in the waiting room,” he said. “Will you be sure to notify me when the doctor calls?”
“Absolutely.”
He took a few steps away, then pivoted around. “Sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt you again, but did you know the family has been waiting for several hours to hear something?”
Her forehead crinkled and she looked in either direction. “I’m not at liberty to discuss any details,” she whispered. “But yes, I’m aware.”
Bo’s shoulders slumped under the weight of the news. What was he going to tell Mattie? He took a few steps down the hall and stopped. A uniformed officer was entering the waiting room.
Chapter Fifteen
Be strong. Be still. Be faithful. God is in control. Mattie tried to meditate on those thoughts. But despite her best efforts not to dwell on Nathan’s illness, the longer she sat in the hospital waiting room without word of her son’s condition, the more worry consumed her. She closed her eyes. Worry is doubt and doubt is lack of faith. I have faith in You, Lord. I do . . . I hope—is it enough?
An image of Nathan’s frail, lifeless body floated across her mind. Her eyes shot open. Exhaling a slow breath through pursed lips, she willed her faith to stop wavering, and to focus on the blessings God had bestowed upon her. Mattie gazed at her daughter asleep in her arms. She had to believe that Nathan was resting comfortably too. Any minute Bo would return with news that her son was fine.
She closed her eyes again. May Your will prevail, Lord. But please send Bo Lambright back with information about Nathan’s condition. Mattie needed to hear something. She would deal with whatever lot she’d been given. After all, she was expected to follow the Amish way—accept trials and tribulations. What was taking Bo so long?
A man cleared his throat. Mattie looked up fully expecting to see Bo, but instead cast her eyes on a police
officer standing before her, a small black notepad flipped open in his hand.
Nathan? Lord, no, please!
“Are you Martha Irene Diener?”
Her throat dried.
Grace leapt off her chair. She grasped Mattie’s hand, applying increasing pressure.
Mattie swallowed to wet her throat. The police officer’s image blurred as tears sprang up in her eyes. “Jah,” she rasped. “I’m Martha Diener.”
“Do you live at 44801 Mulberry—”
“Is mei sohn dead?” Please say no. Please say no. Please say no.
His thin lips tightened, forming a straight line. “Ma’am, I’ll need you to come with me to the police station.”
Mattie glanced down at Amanda, then peered over at Grace, too stunned to speak. For some strange reason he didn’t want to tell her about Nathan here. It didn’t make sense.
Her friend reached down, slipped her arms under Amanda, and lifted her up. Amanda’s whimper brought Mattie to her feet. She started to reach for her, but the officer stepped in front of her, blocking her path.
“Ma’am, I have a warrant for your arrest.”
Despite his best effort to walk away, Bo had to find out why the police officer went into the pediatric floor’s waiting room. He had a sinking suspicion that it had something to do with Nathan’s hospitalization. The doctor must have involved the authorities. Had Mattie told him everything?
He headed toward the waiting room, but stopped short of going inside when he spotted Erica Davis and his boss rounding the corner from the lobby. Apparently, while he was consumed with ways to console Mattie, he’d let the truth slip past him—she had abused her child. Otherwise there wouldn’t be a reason to call the police and social services.
His boss’s eyes narrowed as he approached Bo. “Lambright, what are you doing here?”
Standing next to Norton, Davis crossed her arms.
“I received a call that Nathan Diener was readmitted to the hospital.”
Norton smiled apologetically. “Sorry you were called in on your day off. I’ll have to do something about the slipups in dispatch.”