by Kelly Irvin
Zechariah snapped the reins and leaned forward as if he could make the buggy move faster. Its brakes still squealing, the semi pulled to the side of the road. Hazard lights blinked like orange beacons in the gathering dusk.
“Giddyup, giddyup, come on, girl.” Zechariah snapped the reins again. “The buggy rolled. They’ll be hurt.”
Abel held his hat with one hand and grabbed the seat with the other. “Go, go.”
Zechariah pulled in facing the long, shiny silver eighteen-wheeler. Signs painted on the sides told of a cargo of dairy product.
The driver, a chunky man with black skin and a shiny bald head, leaped from his cab. “I don’t know what happened. I’m on the other side of the road. I didn’t even get close.” He raced across the highway, still yelling in that way folks did when they’re in shock. “I called 911. They’re coming.”
Zechariah followed as quickly as his legs would carry him. Abel struggled to get down from the buggy, but Zechariah didn’t have time to wait for him.
The buggy landed on its top, upside down in four or five feet of muddy water. The harness entangled the horse so he couldn’t move. Which was good. He couldn’t hurt himself or the occupants of the buggy any more than they already were.
“Are you hurt? Can you hear me?” Zechariah spoke in Deutsch. The driver stopped yelling and let him do the talking. “Let us get you out of there.”
“I’m okay. Get to the kinner.” A familiar voice, although now shaky and filled with panic. “Donny? Hannah! Are you all right?”
Laura.
A high voice mingled with her words. “I’m fine, Laura. My nose hurts, though.” A boy’s voice. Donny. “The water’s cold and Mudder will be mad I got my church clothes dirty.”
Together, Zechariah and the truck driver waded into the muddy water and pulled at the shambled boards that had once been a buggy. Donny emerged first. He had an egg-sized lump on his forehead and two black eyes. Still, he grinned. “The buggy flew. We flew.”
The driver caught him up in his arms and set him on higher ground away from the highway. “You sit still, little man. Don’t move until help comes.”
Donny rubbed grubby hands across his face. “My nose hurts.”
“Help is coming.” Zechariah turned back. He slung pieces of the roof and seat aside to find Laura. She tried to scramble to her feet. Water soaked her dress and apron. The dead weight held her back. He grabbed both hands and tugged her forward. She staggered into his arms. “Hannah, help Hannah.”
Zechariah handed her off to the driver and slogged through the water. Hannah lay on her side on a back wheel. She held both arms across her middle as if to protect her belly. She raised her head. “Zechariah. My arm hurts. And the bopli. The bopli has to be all right.”
He didn’t know much about these things, but Marian had fallen from a stepstool once before Esther’s or Michelle’s birth—one of them, he couldn’t remember which. She broke her collarbone, but the doctor said babies had a lot of padding and a watery world that protected them during small falls. “Let’s get you out of here.”
He put his hands under her arms and tugged her upright. Despite being in a family way, the teenager weighed no more than a hummingbird. Groaning, she tried to stand. Her shoes slid and slipped in the mud. “Hang on to me.” He tightened his grip and led her from the miry pit and into Laura’s waiting arms.
“Danki.” Laura nodded at him over Hannah’s shoulder. “I’ve got her.”
He wanted to say, “I’ve got you,” but he couldn’t. The words couldn’t bulldoze through the lump the size of a cantaloupe in his throat. Her kapp had fallen down her back, revealing a straggly bun of silver hair. Mud caked her cheeks and chin. Blood trickled from a deep gash across her forehead. She looked awful, but never better.
He cleared his throat. “Anyone else?”
“Nee. I was taking Donny back to Henry and Anna. I found him skipping along the road.” She eased Hannah onto the brown stubbled grass on the edge of a field of mud and puddled water. “He said he was going into town for candy.”
She tottered over to the horse and smoothed his tangled mane. The horse neighed and shook his head. His eyes were still wild. His breath came in ragged snorts. “He’s desperate to get out, poor thing. He’s town safe. I’ve never had a problem with him spooking for a car or truck.”
“Who knows why now. We’ll get Martin down here to untangle him and take him home. The horse knows him.”
“I don’t know anything about horses.” The truck driver stuck out his hand. “I’m Joe Haag. Maybe the sheriff will help or the firefighters.”
Zechariah wasn’t crazy enough to think he could do it by himself. If the horse reared, he’d be hamburger in short order. “We’ll get some of our men here. If you let me borrow your phone, I can call the phone shack at my great-grandson’s.” It could be hours before any thought to check the messages. Unless they called 911 about Donny. He let his gaze skip to Laura’s. “Anna and Henry are beside themselves over Donny.”
“I figured they would be. I scolded him good and put him into the buggy.” She slogged back to Hannah and began wiping dirt from the girl’s face. “Where does it hurt, child?”
“My arm.” Her voice quivering, Hannah hunched over. “I’m afraid for my bopli.”
“We’ll get you checked out.” Sirens howled in the distance. “See, they’re on their way.”
“You need checking out too.” Zechariah scrambled out of the ditch, using both hands to pull himself along. His legs shook, but they didn’t fail him. “All three of you.”
“I’m fine.” Laura rolled up her filthy apron and wrung it out. Dirty water streamed from it. “I need to get to Aidan’s to let Anna and her mann know Donny is found.”
“You’re not going anywhere until they look at that cut on your head.” Anna and Henry were suffering, not knowing where their child was. They needed to be told. But Laura was hurt. Abel couldn’t drive the buggy by himself. Zechariah wrestled with his thoughts. “I’ll take Abel back to the farm. We’ll tell Anna and Henry. But I’ll be back.”
“Everyone okay?” Daviess County Sheriff’s Deputy Dan Rogers slogged down the side of the ditch and through the water. His dark-brown pants turned an even darker brown. He shoved his wide-brimmed hat back and gave them the once-over. “It’s been a while, Zechariah, Miss Laura. I’m sorry it’s under these circumstances. You look a little worse for wear.”
“Laura, Hannah, and Donny need medical help.” Zechariah beat Laura to the punch. “We need to get the horse untangled.”
Two volunteer firefighters from Daviess County Fire and Rescue followed Rogers down the incline. One was Doug Barnes, a longtime farmer Zechariah often saw eating at the Purple Martin. The other was Shep Laird, Zechariah’s optometrist. Deputy Rogers took Joe Haag aside and began to question him, giving the firefighters time to check for injuries before he talked to Laura.
“Doug and I will split up the wounded,” Shep offered. “After we get a look at everyone, Doug can figure out what to do with the horse.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Laura was in good hands. As much as Zechariah wanted to stay, now was the time to ease Anna’s and Henry’s minds. “I’ll take Abel back to Aidan’s. We’ll tell Anna and Henry.” He squeezed closer to Doug, who was busy running his hands over Hannah’s arms and frowning. “Where will you take them?”
“The ambulance is on its way. They’ll go to Chillicothe to the medical center.”
“I’m not going anywhere in an ambulance.” Laura struggled to her feet and charged down the incline that led to the highway. “I got Donny into this mess. I’ll be the one to tell Anna and Henry.”
“Settle down, Miss Laura. You need stitches.” Shep frowned as he held up two fingers and asked Donny how many he saw. Fortunately, Donny could count to ten. “And they’ll want to do a CT scan. You most likely hit your head when you got that gash.”
“Don’t Miss me,” Laura grumbled. “A little B&W ointment and it’ll be fine.�
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“You’ll have a dandy of a headache before it’s over, and don’t be putting ointment on anything until a doctor looks at it.” A concerned frown on his chubby-cheeked face, Donny wiggled from the firefighter’s grasp and ran to Laura. Shep leaned back on his heels. “You’re scaring this little guy, and he seems like he’s had enough excitement for one day.”
Laura put her arm around Donny. He had a sweet nature and never met a stranger he didn’t like, but doctors were another matter. He didn’t like them much. A few tears left tracks on his dirty face. “I want Mudder. Laura, you said you were taking me to Mudder.”
“As soon as we get you fixed up.” She hugged him tight to her chest. “I’ll be right there with you all the way.”
“With me too, Groossmammi.” Hannah’s voice sounded stronger, now that help had arrived. “I’d rather go back and have Rachel look at me.”
“She can’t do anything about your arm,” Zechariah pointed out. “You’ll need an X-ray and they can check on the baby. Do whatever it is they do. I’ll tell your folks so they can get a ride to the hospital and carry you home when the doctors get done with you.”
His muscles and sinews united to keep his boots planted on that empty field next to the highway. His brain scolded him, but his heart clamored to stay. He breathed. Get going. The sooner you go, the sooner you’ll see her again.
He ducked his head and began the arduous trek—for him—back to the highway.
“Zechariah.”
He swiveled to look back. “The ambulance is here. Sit down and wait for the paramedics.”
Laura tottered after him. “Danki for saving us.”
“You would’ve saved yourself, if I hadn’t happened along the way.”
“But you did. You found Donny and you took care of us. A very useful day you’ve had.”
She was right about feeling useful. It was a good feeling. “I have to take Abel back. And talk to Anna and Henry.”
“Tell them I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for. You found Donny and would’ve brought him back to them if it wasn’t for a contrary horse and a semi.”
She nodded. “See you soon?”
It was a question. “See you soon.”
His was a statement.
THIRTY-EIGHT
LAURA HUDDLED CLOSER TO THE BLAZING FIRE. THE wood popped and embers sparked. She took a sip of the peppermint tea Ruby had brought her before she went to bed. It burned her tongue. Still, she couldn’t get warm. Her hands shook. Everything shook. She set the mug on the table and tugged the shawl tighter around her shoulders. The silence comforted her, somehow.
Hannah had insisted she stay wherever Laura stayed. Ruby and Martin insisted they both sleep in the big house. Hannah had gone to bed, worn out from the accident and the trip to the hospital. She couldn’t get over the sight of her tiny baby on the ultrasound machine. The pulsing sound of his or her heartbeat. Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh. The most comforting sound in the world when a mother was worried about her baby slipping away. An X-ray revealed no break in her arm. The doctor had pronounced it a sprain and recommended ice and ibuprofen.
Laura’s date had been with a CT machine that engulfed the top part of her body. Lying perfectly still with her head on a small prop had been hard. Her body didn’t want to stop shaking. Poor Donny needed a sedative for his CT. He found the big donut too intimidating and refused to lie on the table. Fortunately, in both cases, the results had been negative. Martin said her head was too hard to be cracked by a simple dunk in a ditch full of water.
Eight stitches later she’d been out the door. She couldn’t leave fast enough. Now every muscle ached. Her head ached, despite the two ibuprofens. Her stomach rocked with nausea every time her mind replayed the scene. Which was every time she closed her eyes.
The clip-clop of the horse’s hooves on the highway. The scent of wet earth on the springlike breeze. Scolding Donny about his unannounced trip to town. Donny’s giggle. Discussing the pros and cons of adoption with Hannah. Encouraging her to see the possibilities of a future with someone . . . someone who would not abandon her. Laura didn’t give the semi a second thought. She saw them on Highway U all the time. Billy was traffic safe. That’s why Martin allowed her to use him.
Then it happened. Billy reared and bucked. Laura fought to hold the buggy on the highway. Neighing, Billy jolted back and forth, back and forth. The reins jerked from Laura’s hands. Billy swerved away from the truck. They careened toward the shoulder, then the ditch.
They rolled to the right.
The buggy slammed into the ditch.
Water rose to meet her. The taste of muck and wet, brown stubble dirtied her mouth. She gasped and swallowed more of it.
Her stomach lurched as the buggy slung her head over heels. Pieces of buggy slammed her from all sides. Her knees and elbows collided with Hannah. The girl screamed.
Laura grabbed at her, but her hands groped air.
The buggy rolled. Then it bucked to a stop on its side. Laura landed on top of Donny. His cries broke her heart. Hannah shrieked and shrieked. Laura gasped for words of comfort, but her lungs were flat. No words came out.
The world spun in a dizzying whirl, even though the buggy had stopped. Every bone, every muscle, down to the sinews that held them together, hurt.
Hannah. The baby. Donny. She needed to help them.
Then help came. The sight of Zechariah’s worried face would be a blessing she never forgot until the day she died. His hands on her arms, the way he clutched her to his chest and led her up the incline to safety.
His care for her shone in his face. A light that would lead her wherever he wanted her to go. She couldn’t wait to tell him that.
When everything didn’t hurt. When she wasn’t bruised and bedraggled and bereft in her confidence in her ability to handle a horse and a buggy and its precious cargo.
Billy never acted up.
Not in all the times Martin let her borrow him for trips to town or frolics. Now Martin would feel guilty. Like his horse’s sudden aversion to trucks was his fault. She breathed, in and out, in and out. It was over. They had survived. No serious injuries. They were lucky, the doctor said.
Not lucky. Blessed. By the grace of God, Hannah’s baby was protected. Donny’s small frame had not a single broken bone. Only a slight concussion, bruises, and cuts.
Even so, Laura felt guilty because Donny and Hannah were hurt at all. The truck driver felt guilty his semi scared the horse. Zechariah felt guilty their paths hadn’t crossed sooner. Hannah felt guilty about everything under the moon and stars.
Only Donny didn’t feel guilty, even though his running away set everything in motion. He didn’t have the capacity to understand cause and effect or consequences beyond being sent to bed early without a cookie. God had blessed Donny with perpetual innocence.
He would sleep well tonight.
Zechariah. Laura took another sip of tea and let the hot liquid seep into her bones. His arms were so strong, his legs planted and firm, when he tugged her from that horrible pit, that ditch of dirty water.
Did he know it was his horrible pit of miry clay? He’d saved her and in the process, Gott had saved him from feeling useless. He carried Donny out and guided Hannah to safety. He’d never looked more vital and alive.
He’d saved himself.
She leaned back in her chair. She couldn’t wait to tell him. If he hadn’t figured it out himself. Men were so thickheaded, he probably hadn’t.
She leaned back in the rocker and rested her head against the solid wood. The floor creaked. She straightened.
“It’s only me.”
Laura pressed her hand against her chest and breathed. “Hannah. What are you doing up? You were sound asleep the last time Ruby checked on you.”
“She’s so sweet. I drank too much of that tea she kept offering me.”
With the baby, trips to the bathroom would become more and more necessary, even without the tea. Laura ges
tured to the other rocker. “Keep me company for a minute.”
Hannah grabbed a crocheted blanket from the back of the chair and wrapped it around herself. She snuggled into the chair, looking more like a grade school girl than a woman who would have a baby in a few months. “I had bad dreams.”
“It’ll take a while to get back to normal.” Laura rubbed her forehead. Maybe she should take some more ibuprofen. She felt like a big blob of hurt. “We all had quite a scare. Do you want some more tea?”
“Nee.” Hannah shook her head vigorously, then giggled. “But danki. Do you think Tamara will ever come back?”
“That’s what you’re thinking about tonight?” Laura rose and added one more piece of wood to the fire. A little longer, then they both needed to get some sleep. “I prayed. Then I left it at Gott’s feet. What happens is up to Him. It always has been. As a semi-wise man once told me, I can’t fix everything. When I think I can, I’ve made myself into a god. I think I control what happens. That’s wrong. Sinful. I’m not doing that anymore.”
“Why do you think Phillip made the cradle for me?”
“I think you’re smart enough to figure that out.”
“He never said anything to me at the singings. He never asked me to take a ride.”
“Maybe he noticed that you only had eyes for Thaddeus.”
“Thaddeus didn’t hesitate to ask for more than a ride.”
“If Phillip had asked, would you have said jah?”
“I don’t know. Probably not. Thaddeus was so sweet and so handsome. I know that’s not supposed to mean anything, but every time I got close to him I felt so . . . caught up in him.”
“So you couldn’t see anyone else. No one likes to be a third wheel.”
“Which brings us back to why Phillip made the cradle.”
“Thaddeus let you down. Maybe Phillip wants a chance to show you he never will.”
“How can he even look at me like this? With another man’s bopli. Won’t he see what Thaddeus and I did every time he looks at me?”
“He sees a bopli, a special gift from Gott. Something Thaddeus apparently did not.”