by Ruth Reid
“You didn’t.”
“I hear the pain in your voice.”
She stopped. “I know to an outsider, the Amish come across as stoic. And perhaps we do endure pain and hardship differently, placing our faith in the Lord . . .” But somewhere in the last eighteen months she’d lost her grip on her faith—or was only holding on to it by a thread. She looked down at the ground and pushed some loose pine needles across the sand with the toe of her shoe. “I’m sorry.” She looked at him and forced a smile. “I know you’re only trying to make conversation.”
“You don’t have anything to be sorry about.” His deep blue eyes bore into her soul. “Was timbering how you lost your husband?”
He seemed sincere, but she didn’t want to fall under his judgment about Andy’s death. Mattie drew a deep breath and released it.
Bo shifted his attention to the hillside, squinting when a ray of sun shone through the branches. He adjusted the hat brim to better shield his eyes. “How much farther is Ben and Grace’s house?”
She almost thanked him out loud for changing the subject. “Their pasture is just beyond that stand of birch trees. But we’ll have to cut through a large patch of wild raspberry bushes to get there this way.”
“Hmm. Thorns.”
“The other way is longer.” She pointed to the right. “And it’ll mean taking the road.”
Bo headed toward the stand of birch trees. He didn’t want to chance being seen by anyone on the road. Besides, he hadn’t had fresh raspberries in years.
When they reached the berry patch, he was shocked by how many raspberry bushes he saw. He quickly found himself in the middle of the patch, surrounded by thorny branches and not many ripe raspberries. His pant legs snagged. His forearms burned from scratches. Bo glanced behind him at Mattie tugging on her dress, her face grimacing. “You need a hand?”
“Nay, danki.” She plowed along in silence. After a few moments, she said, “Andy died in his sleep.”
Bo faced her. “I can’t imagine how painful it was to lose your spouse unexpectedly.”
She turned away. “I don’t usually talk about it.”
Bo liked that Mattie had confided in him, but he also sensed she needed space. He veered to the left where he spotted several clusters of red berries in a sunny area. He plucked a few and popped them in his mouth. The sweet tartness melted on his tongue. He had a handful picked by the time Mattie caught up to him.
“You’re bleeding.” She pointed to his arm.
He turned his forearm. “Just a scratch. The berries make it worth it.” If there were more, he would pick a few handfuls and put them in the bag with his clothes for later.
“They’re early this year.”
He opened his palm. “Would you like some?”
She took one and ate it. “They’re nett too bad.”
“Better than anything sold in the store.”
“Wait another week or two.” She marched ahead, climbed over the wooden fence, and strode toward a chestnut-colored horse nibbling on grass in the pasture. “Hello, Jasper,” she said, taking hold of the gelding’s halter.
Bo plodded alongside them until they reached the gate next to the barn. “I’ll take him.” He reached for the halter, but she didn’t release her hold. “Grace wanted you to let her aenti know she was at your house, remember?”
“Oh, that’s right.” She left Jasper with him and headed toward the house.
Bo led the horse into the barn stall. It didn’t take him long to locate the harness hanging on the wall in the equipment room. Some horses were skittish around strangers, but Jasper was calm. The horse took the driving bit without resistance and didn’t jerk his head back when Bo placed the blinders or tightened the browband like many horses did. Growing up, Bo could have harnessed a horse in his sleep, but since the accident, his skills had diminished from lack of use.
Bo led Jasper outside the barn, tied the reins to the post near the lean-to, and rolled the buggy out from under the overhang. He tossed the bag with his clothes inside the buggy and finished hitching the horse. Focused on double-checking the equipment, he hadn’t noticed Mattie until he caught a glimpse of her shadow. He glanced up at her. The sun had highlighted her form, giving her an angelic appearance.
She gasped. “What are you doing?” Then without waiting for a reply, she started to inspect the gear.
Bo stood and wiped the dust off the knees of his pant legs. “Well?”
She worked her way around the horse before answering. “Not many Englischers can hitch a buggy.”
Some things come back like tying a shoe. “I can drive one too.”
Mattie untied the reins from the post. “I don’t know that mei trust extends that far, Mr. Lambright.” She opened the door to the buggy and climbed onto the bench.
“Bo.” He stopped her from closing the door. “And don’t you think it will look odd if the man isn’t driving?” He waited until she finally relinquished the reins and slid over. “I know you don’t trust me—yet.”
She pulled her dress skirt closer to her side of the bench. “You seem confident I will someday.”
“I would hope so. Trust should go both ways.” He winked. “After all, I did put up my boat as collateral to get you out of jail.” He clicked his tongue and Jasper lurched forward. He stole a glance at her profile. She was smiling.
Once they reached the main road, Bo patted his pants pockets in search of his phone, but then remembered Amish pants didn’t have pockets. Mattie shot him a disturbed look when he reached for the sack on the floor at her feet. He extended the reins and she moved closer to take them. He fished the phone from the sack. “I just need to make a quick call,” he explained, tapping the number pad. The call went straight to his mother’s voice mail.
“Hey, it’s me. Would it be possible for you to meet me at the hospital with the paperwork? Let me know. Thanks.” He disconnected the call. “We should know something soon.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Bo spotted his mother pacing the hospital lobby, dressed in a navy business suit and carrying a large envelope in her hand. He removed the straw hat and approached her. Agnes Nettleton wasn’t easily surprised, but when she saw him, she turned ashen.
“Mom, this is Mattie Diener.”
His mother broke eye contact with him and pasted on a disingenuous smile for Mattie while extending her hand. “I’m Agnes Nettleton. It’s nice to meet you. May I have a word with my son in private?”
“Yes, of course.” Mattie crossed the room and sat next to the wall by the vending machines. Although Mattie didn’t appear bothered by his mother’s blunt request, Bo didn’t like the cold manner in which she was dismissed.
“Is there something you haven’t told me?” Mother’s curt words demanded his attention.
He tugged on the suspenders. “The clothes? It’s a long story.” One he’d rather not discuss in the lobby.
“Yes, so I’m learning.” She lowered her voice. “What are you doing, Bo?”
He glanced across the room at Mattie, then back at his mother.
“You asked me to do a favor, for someone I don’t know. You didn’t bother to tell me you were placed on suspension at work. How do you think bailing her out of jail looks? Or have you failed to give any consideration to your career?”
He groaned under his breath. That wasn’t how he’d planned things to go. “It’s just until they do an administrative review. A few days. Can we talk about this later? Please.”
“Later might be too late. I spoke with Senator Delanie’s daughter, Erica, on my way here.”
Bo tightened his jaw. His mother didn’t see Davis as the manipulator she was.
“Just because they’re religious people doesn’t mean they don’t—”
“Don’t what?”
“Abuse their children in the name of discipline. This woman you’re trying to protect—”
He held up his hand. “Stop. Please.”
She clamped her mouth closed and star
ed up at the light fixture, her nostrils flaring.
“I’m going to insist that we talk about this later.”
His mom squared her shoulders. “Perhaps after you see the boy you’ll think differently of what that woman—or someone in her settlement—has done. Bo, why are you not seeing this case clearly?”
He drew a deep breath. “Please don’t listen to Erica. She has no experience, and she’s intent on building her name. She told me so herself. Besides that, she doesn’t know anything about the Amish way.”
“But we both recognize firsthand what abusive power can do.”
He lowered his head.
“Bo,” she said, softening her tone. “I’m sure I don’t have to remind you how you were treated. Your family looked straight at you and announced that you were dead.”
A lump grew in his throat. “Because in their eyes, I was—I still am.”
“You’re not going to get back in the Amish good graces by helping this woman. You don’t owe her anything.”
“Her name is Mattie.” He motioned to the envelope in his mother’s hand. “I believe you’re holding the paperwork that makes me her children’s advocate. May I have the documents now, please?”
She gazed at the envelope with a long face. “I hope you don’t forget why you became a social worker.”
He swallowed hard. “I won’t.”
“Bo, once Willard is made aware of the fact you are under investigation, he’ll have no choice but to revoke the court order.”
“I understand.”
She handed him the envelope. “May I ask a question that doesn’t pertain to this case?”
He shrugged. “Sure.”
“Will you be home in time for dinner?”
Bo winked. “Do you have another dinner party planned?”
“No.” She smiled. “Although I could probably arrange something. I know how much you love mingling with the guests.” Her witty banter didn’t mask her concern, but he appreciated her attempt at lightening the tension between them.
“I’ll try to get home early.”
“Very well then.” She straightened her shoulders and smoothed the lapels on her blazer. “You probably shouldn’t keep that young woman waiting any longer. I’m sure she wants to spend time with her son.”
Bo looked at Mattie, sitting on the edge of the seat, nervously working her hands as if applying lotion. He tapped the envelope against his palm and faced his mother. “Thank you for this. It really means a lot to me.”
“Yes, well, a mother will do just about anything for her child, even if the child is an adult.” She opened her purse and reached inside. “Before I forget, Josh brought this by the house.” She handed him his wallet. “He left work early. I hope he doesn’t plan to make a habit of that.”
“I’ll talk to him.” After he found out how Josh managed to get his wallet back.
Although Mattie hadn’t been able to hear the conversation between Bo and his mother, their facial expressions conveyed that the discussion was heated. The stiff handshake from his mother told Mattie that she didn’t approve of her son’s involvement. She had clutched the envelope for the longest time as if she was reconsidering her choice to help, but Bo had it now, and that’s what mattered. The wink he’d given his mother seemed to ease the tension between them and for that she was thankful. Mattie wrung her hands. Waiting was difficult, especially since every fiber of her being longed to see Nathan.
Finally, Bo walked toward her. Mattie stood and met him in the center of the lobby. “Can I see Nathan nau?”
“Let’s find out what this says.” He opened the envelope and removed the document, then scanned the pages.
“Well?” she said after a few moments.
He peered up at her and smiled. “You really need to work more on your patience.”
“Don’t tease me at a time like this.” She was apt to say something she would regret if she had to wait one more second.
“You have two hours.” He guided her toward the hallway leading to the patient rooms. “Don’t be surprised if the administration will need to verify this document before allowing you to proceed.”
“What does that mean?”
“You might not be allowed in the room immediately.”
Her shoulders sank. Lord, please clear the way.
He patted her back. “Don’t lose hope. We’ll cross that bridge if it comes.”
Mattie forced a smile. Bo was kind and certainly attentive. She was glad he was with her, even though he was an outsider.
They reached the nurses’ desk, and Mattie held her breath as Bo showed the nurse in charge the document.
“You can make a copy for your records, if you like,” he told the woman in blue scrubs.
“Can I see your identification, please?”
Bo removed the information from his wallet and handed it to her.
“Thank you.” The nurse disappeared from the desk with the papers.
Bo glanced at Mattie. “Have you prayed?”
“Jah.”
“Me too.”
He drummed his fingers on the counter, humming a tune she wasn’t familiar with, and every few seconds he would look at her and smile. Up until now, he hadn’t struck her as the nervous type. But something in his eyes told her otherwise today. She wanted to ask if he expected trouble, but he’d already warned her the paperwork might require administration approval.
The nurse returned, handed Bo’s license and paperwork back to him, then said, “You’ll have an hour—”
Two hours. Mattie opened her mouth, but Bo’s hand came up and she closed it.
“As I was saying,” the nurse said, directing her comment to Mattie. “You’ll have a total of two hours, however, the time will be divided into two visits with an hour in between. That will give his nurse time to attend to Nathan’s needs.”
“Thank you,” Bo said. “What room is he in?”
“He’s in our pediatric wing. I can show you the way.” She came out from behind the workstation and motioned to the left.
Mattie’s heart pounded with anticipation. Nathan would ask to go home and she wasn’t sure how to respond. He’d also want her to stay longer than two hours. Her stomach flipped. Nathan was smart. He would see that something was wrong and she refused to lie to him. Mattie relaxed her expression. She would tell Nathan the doctors wanted him well rested.
“You okay?” Bo lifted his brows.
Kind, caring, she was beginning to see traits in him she liked. “I’m fine.” They entered the children’s area with colorful animals painted on the walls. Mattie read the room numbers on the doors. 2202, 03 . . .
The nurse stopped in front of 2205. “Please wait a here a moment while I check to see if he’s ready for a visit.” She disappeared into the room and returned a few moments later. “His nurse, Jean, is inside the room. Doctor Oshay will probably talk with you after your visit.”
“Doktah Oshay? I thought Doktah Wellington was treating him,” Mattie said.
“She requested Doctor Oshay’s consult earlier today. I’ll let him know that you’re here. I’m sure he’ll want to talk with you.”
“Okay,” Mattie said.
Bo thanked her and promised to keep close tabs on the time. He opened the door to the room. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim light. She moved closer to the oversized crib, which was enclosed in a clear plastic canopy.
“It’s an oxygen tent,” Bo volunteered as if reading her mind.
She took a few short steps, then rushed to Nathan’s bedside. Staring through the thick plastic, she gasped at the sight of his bruised body.
“Nathan?” her voice squeaked. “It’s Mamm.”
His eyes remained closed.
“Nathan?” she repeated louder. She turned to Bo on her right, tears blurring her vision. “He’s—he’s nett—responding. Something—something is—” Air depleted from her lungs in a whoosh as Bo brought her into his arms and pressed her against his chest. “Something’
s wrong. He doesn’t even know I’m here.” She sobbed.
“I know it’s hard.” He rubbed the palm of his hand against her back in circular motions.
“He doesn’t know I’m here.” She breathed in and, for a brief second, caught a whiff of Andy’s woodsy scent on his shirt, and cried harder.
At a loss of words to comfort Mattie, Bo held her tighter. Now he never wanted to let go.
He looked away from the boy’s bruised body. Norton’s description had been spot-on. Nathan appeared to have either been bludgeoned with a blunt object or trampled on by horses. Guilt washed over him. He’d been gauging the sincerity of Mattie’s tears from the time they walked into the room, and even her willingness to be held by an Englischer. It had to be a horse that caused these injuries—not Mattie. Surely she would know if he’d been trampled. Maybe she was covering up for someone, like the man chopping wood at her place. Lord, help this child.
Mattie muttered something else. Though pressed against his chest, he could only make out, “Why?”
“We’re keeping him sedated, Mrs. Diener,” the nurse said.
At the sound of the woman’s voice, Mattie withdrew her body from his chest and averted her eyes from the nurse to Nathan.
Bo cleared his throat. “Could we open the tent zipper so his mother can hold his hand a few minutes?”
The nurse glanced at the machine next to the bed. “Sure, his vitals are stable.”
Bo unzipped the tent. “Go ahead, Mattie. Hold his hand and let him know that you’re here with him.”
She slipped her hand inside and reached for her son’s small fingers. “Nathan, honey. Mamm’s here.” Her voice cracked again.
Bo nodded, reassuringly.
“Ich liebe dich, sohn.”
Bo’s throat tightened.
“I’m sorry about all this, Nathan,” Mattie said. “I’m so sorry.”
Bo fought to dismiss the declaration of guilt on Mattie’s part. I’m sorry . . . about all of this. The remorse was so thick it seemed to hang in the air.
Something wasn’t adding up.