Their Surprise Amish Marriage

by Jocelyn McClay

  “Like...I...told...you...” There was no air behind his wheezing voice. He grimaced before continuing. “Don’t...ever turn...your back...on a bull.”

  “That’s good advice. Advice you should’ve taken.” Gabe was working from Ben’s other side. “Now for my advice. Let’s not move until we have a better idea of what we’re dealing with here.” He ducked his head below the bunk to glance at Rachel. “The ambulance is on its way. Ben the bullfighter here needs some X-rays so we can determine the extent of internal injuries.”

  Rachel’s eyes widened. Sniffing back her tears, she rubbed her wrist under her nose.

  Watching her face through pain-hazed eyes, Ben flinched as he inhaled. “I don’t...think...”

  “Yeah, you’re not thinking if you don’t let us take you in. You need to be up and around to help her with those babies in a few months. For all I know, you hit your head. You’re not in the best position to decide. So we’ll consult the next of kin.” Gabe glanced up from the gauge he was monitoring to meet Rachel’s eyes. “Rachel?”

  Her gaze traveled over Ben’s white face and down the dirt-smeared shirt and pants of his sprawled and motionless body. One suspender strap dangled over his shoulder, its clasp broken. Swallowing, Rachel nodded. “I’ll go down to the end of the lane and wave them in.” Shifting from her knees to rock back on her feet, she used the rails of the fence to leverage up to a standing position.

  She paused at the sound of Ben’s feeble voice. “Don’t...hurt...Billy. Bloodlines...too gut.” Glancing over the bunk, she saw Jethro’s lips thin as he shook his head.

  Keeping a hand on the top rail, Rachel walked several yards down the fence until she felt steady enough to leave its support and cross to the driveway. Her eyes were focused on the sleek mostly black monster unconcernedly grazing in the pasture. For a moment, he became blurry as her face contorted and her eyes filled with tears. At the faint whine of a siren, she turned her head toward the road and hurried down to the end of the lane.

  Chapter Eleven

  Rachel rose from her chair when she saw the white lab-coated woman come through the gray swinging doors. Ben’s daed leaped up, as well. Although they stayed seated, her mamm and Ben’s dropped their knitting into their laps. Other members of the community who’d been trickling into the designated waiting room over the last hour halted their quiet conversations as they all turned toward the doors.

  The gray-haired woman smiled at them. “You’re here for Mr. Raber?” After their varying nods, she made eye contact with Rachel and motioned her closer. “Rachel Raber?” When Rachel hastened forward, the doctor continued in a lower voice, “Your husband is a very fortunate man. He has some broken ribs and a number of cracked ones. Although slightly bruised, his organs appear all right. Luckily, although there’re some jagged edges, none of the fractures punctured a lung. He also has a badly sprained ankle, but considering he was outweighed more than ten to one, it could’ve been so much worse. Just to be on the safe side, we’re going to keep him overnight to monitor his organs and lungs. He’ll be restricted in some movements for several days, and will be limited to lifting only a few pounds for several weeks, but should make a full recovery.”

  Clasping her hand to her mouth, Rachel closed her eyes and sagged against the wall. Denki, Gott! Denki that it was His will that Ben would live. Whether because of the coming boppeli or something else, she cared deeply for Ben. Was it love? It didn’t matter. What mattered was that she now had a chance to find out.

  She hadn’t seen Ben since she’d watched with quaking limbs as the ambulance team braced his neck and carefully loaded him on a backboard for the trip to Portage. Gabe Bartel had given her a lift to her mamm’s house and had then taken them both to the hospital. When they’d arrived, Ben was nowhere to be found. Gabe, familiar with the facility and personnel, discovered Ben was being x-rayed. Rachel and Susannah had sat down to wait, joined shortly by Ben’s parents, Elmer and Mary Raber.

  “May I see him?”

  “Absolutely,” the older woman assured her, “he’s been asking for you.”

  Rachel followed the doctor down the hall, her shoes squeaking on the shiny tile floor. When the doctor smiled and pushed open a wide door, pointing a thumb in its direction before heading on down the hall, Rachel peeked into the room. Her gaze immediately locked with Ben’s. When he saw her, he shifted upright in the inclined hospital bed. He abruptly froze, his face going as white as the pillow supporting his dark-haired head. Rachel winced in sympathy before cautiously stepping into the room.

  “Are you all right?” Focused on the unnatural beeps and hisses of the medical equipment, Rachel almost jumped at his quiet question.

  She stopped along the raised silver rail that extended the length of the bed. “Am I all right? You’re the one who was tossed like a doll by a bull.”

  He grimaced, then his face went slack as if he were concentrating before a dimple came into play along with a half smile. “Surely I looked more manly than that.”

  The tanned V of his neck, now displayed by the loose neck of his hospital gown, was in sharp contrast to the pale skin surrounding it. One of his always-capable arms was connected by tubes to a tall silver pole, a clear bag half-full of liquid suspended from its top. Another device was on a nearby pole, revealing lines and numbers in green. Without his always-present work shirt and suspenders, she barely recognized her husband.

  “Well, your hat went one way and you went the other. Then I couldn’t see you...” Rachel compressed her lips as her chin started to quiver. She squeezed her eyes tight against the prickling that threatened the backs of them. She didn’t want to be a blubbery mess in front of him.

  She opened her eyes at an abbreviated sigh from the direction of the bed. “I was afraid of that. That hat was just getting to be a perfect fit. I suppose there’s no salvaging it?”

  Sniffing, Rachel shook her head.

  “Come here.” Ben started to raise his arm before instantly stopping with an inhaled hiss. Rachel reached a hand through the rail of the bed and clasped his fingers where they’d returned to rest on the beige blanket. Rotating his wrist to grasp her hand more fully, Ben returned the pressure. “I don’t suppose this helps the way you feel about cattle.”

  Rachel snorted through her tears. “Nee. It doesn’t help at all.”

  “Understandable.” His lips twisted. “I suppose that means you won’t be doing the cattle chores while I’m laid up for a few days?”

  Tears were forgotten as her jaw dropped open. When she tried to jerk her hand back, he gently tightened his grip, keeping her fingers trapped.

  “How could you think—” She paused at the sight of his smile.

  “Stopped you from crying.”

  She sniffed again. “It isn’t funny.”

  “I know.” Releasing her fingers to carefully touch his side, he closed his eyes and sighed. “Gut thing, as I’m thinking it’ll be a bit before I find the courage to try laughing.”

  Ben cautiously shifted his position on the bed. Rachel watched his face as flickers of reaction swept over it. He settled into place with a frown and lowered brow. He must be in terrible pain to reveal anything at all. Again, she sent up a silent prayer of thanks to Gott that, according to the doctor, Ben would make a full recovery. That time currently seemed far into the future.

  “Your daed and mamm are here, along with several others. Your daed has already spoken with the bishop. He said not to worry about the bills. The church will figure out some way to pay for it.”

  Ben’s frown deepened.

  Rachel tried not to take pleasure in her next words. “And it’ll probably be more than a few days before you’re taking care of the cattle. The doctor said you’ll be restricted for several days and won’t be able to lift anything more than a few pounds for several weeks.”

  His eyes still closed, Ben grimaced more at this news than the physical
pain when he’d moved abruptly. “She say when I’d be able to come home?”

  “Nee. Not exactly. Only that they were keeping you overnight for observation.”

  Ben’s eyes finally opened. “I doubt I’ll be doing anything interesting enough that they’ll find it worthwhile observing.”

  Rachel smiled at his feeble joke as he’d intended. “Do you want me to stay?”

  After a quick glance around the sterile hospital room with its one stiff-looking chair, Ben frowned as he looked back at her. “Nee, I’d feel better if you went home. It’ll be a more comfortable night for you there.”

  Focusing on keeping the hurt from her face, Rachel nodded slowly. He didn’t want her there. He figured he’d be better without her. And why not, they didn’t share a room at home. Their relationship was such that the overnight proximity would be both mentally and physically awkward. Dry-mouthed at the rejection, she forced a swallow. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning then?”

  “Ja. Hopefully with the doctor’s permission to bring me home soon after. Will you be all right by yourself at the farm?”

  “Of course.” She shrugged half-heartedly. “I grew up on a farm. There were surely a few times I wouldn’t have minded having the place to myself in order to have some peace and quiet. Besides, it’s like a night off, as I don’t have to fix you supper.” Her joke must’ve been more feeble than his, as there was no ensuing lift of his lips.

  “Gut. Hopefully you can get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.” There was a thread of gentleness in Ben’s solemn voice as he held her gaze. Still, Rachel couldn’t help but feel dismissed. With a jerky nod, she hurried out of the room. Entering the sterile corridor, her steps slowed when she saw the gathering of Amish community members in the waiting room. She hadn’t asked Ben if he wanted more company. But she wasn’t going back in there now. Resolutely, she headed for the expectant group. If he didn’t want them, he’d have to turn them away himself. Just as he had her.

  * * *

  Ben’s gaze was fastened on Rachel’s straight back and the dangling ribbons of her kapp as they disappeared around the closing door. Shutting his eyes, he dropped his head back against the pillow. His face twisted in pain. Not the physical pain that stabbed through his body at any unwary move. That could be abated by the painkillers he suspected were dripping through tubes into his system. This ache was excruciating and would be harder to diminish. The hurt he’d seen in her face. The tears she’d shed. He’d caused them. Regardless if they were for him, or because of him, the fact he’d brought her distress pained him.

  He shook his head against the pillow, about the only thing he could move right now without being jolted with breath-stealing reminders of why he was there. Despite his intent, he’d taken his wife’s greatest fear and exacerbated it. Would she even want to stay on the farm? With his growing family, could he afford the higher rent if they had to move somewhere else or he no longer did chores for Isaiah?

  Even if he could leave the hospital tomorrow—his aching chest clenched at the thought they wouldn’t let him go—given the tightness of the skin he felt around his ankle and the twang of pain generating there whenever the sheets bumped his foot, he wouldn’t be on his feet for a few more days.

  The door swung inward. Opening his eyes, Ben eagerly lifted his head. Was Rachel returning? Had she determined to stay with him? At the sight of the white lab coat, he dropped his head back against the pillow.

  The doctor quickly scanned the room. Her eyebrows rose. “Has your wife gone already? I thought she’d stay longer, as frantic as you were to see her.”

  Ben didn’t have a reply.

  “Well, can I trust you to follow instructions, or do we need her back here to ensure that you do?”

  It depended what the instructions were. Ben forced a weak smile. “We’re good.”

  The physician eyed him dubiously, gauging his sincerity before she began. “We don’t wrap ribs anymore. We found it counterproductive. Although it might be uncomfortable, it’s important to take occasional deep breaths and cough once in a while to prevent pneumonia. You’ll have some whoppers of bruises. Most help we can offer on that is some pain medication and to recommend icing the area for a while.” She frowned. “Do you have access to ice?” At his token nod, she continued, “You’ll need to take it easy for several weeks. Be cautious on how much you lift in that time. Nothing very heavy.”

  “I don’t want pain medication.”

  “I appreciate your concern, but we need to manage your pain enough that you can take deep breaths and cough occasionally. Not fully inflating your lungs is detrimental to their far ends. The blow you took probably bruised your lungs, which puts you at even higher risk of developing pneumonia, as the lung itself is injured. It might be painful at first, but I recommend you walk around the house several times a day if you can.”

  The information hit Ben harder than the bull had. “Around the house? I have work to do outside.”

  The doctor shook her head. “I wouldn’t suggest it for the next four weeks at least. It usually will take six to eight weeks for a bone to heal.”

  “I can’t.” Ben shook his head at the absurd possibility.

  “You can, unless you want worse problems.” The physician pinned him with a pointed gaze over her glasses.

  Ben closed his eyes as frustration swamped him. He’d always been the one who took care of things. Now he’d be a burden instead. How was he supposed to do cattle chores twice daily, along with anything else the animals might need? How was he supposed to do his work at Schrock Brothers’ Furniture? How was he supposed to assist his wife and the ever-increasing burden she carried? Unthinking, he shifted in bed, hissing in a breath as he stiffened in shock at the pain that shot through him. His fingers curled around the smooth cool rails of the bed. Just the thought of trying to roll over made him sweat.

  He opened his eyes to the doctor’s sympathetic gaze. “We want to get you whole and back in business as soon as possible too, but you need to follow instructions to make it happen. I’ll check back with you tomorrow morning and we can hopefully let you go then. Do you have any questions?”

  Ben shook his head wearily. None the doctor could answer.

  With a commiserating nod, the woman exited. Beads of perspiration dotted Ben’s forehead in the air-conditioned room. Not only might he not be able to take care of his own financial responsibilities, the hospital stay made him a financial burden for others. The Amish didn’t carry health insurance. The community had always taken care of its members when they were in need, somehow raising funds to cover costs. They’d only just recently paid off hospital bills from the bishop’s heart attack episode earlier in the year. Ben had always been on the giving end. He didn’t know if he could handle being on the receiving one.

  How could his wife care for him if he failed in every way of taking care of her?

  * * *

  With a scowl, Ben pushed against the cane to lever out of his chair. He felt like a grossdaddi. Worse than one. Because if he was old enough to be en alder, he probably wouldn’t be watching fretfully as his very expectant wife went out to hoe the garden, or wince when she bent over to pick the green beans, or hold his breath as she harnessed the horse. He should be doing work for her, not causing her extra work. Shuffling to the window, he looked out to where Jethro was feeding the cattle. And that was another thing. Jethro had enough to do at his own place. Having folks do things for him when he should be doing them in reverse pained Ben more than his sore ribs. He should be paying Jethro the discount he was receiving for rent for the work he’d been doing these past few days since the incident.

  Hands braced on the edge of the sink, Ben wedged himself higher so he could see over the rise of the hill in the pasture. There, grazing contentedly, was Billy. Even though the bull had hurt him, Ben was glad Isaiah Zook had been convinced not to sell the animal. Ben didn’t want anyone else to be hurt,
but he’d have felt worse if his carelessness in turning his back on the animal would’ve deprived Isaiah of good bloodlines to improve his dairy herd. But he understood Isaiah’s dilemma. People had been killed before by rogue dairy bulls. It was frequently a one-and-done offense. The bull would be sold as he might be likely to do it again.

  It was decided that Billy, until he was needed to sire cows, would be a fixture in the pasture and not in the pen with humans and the more docile steers. The two younger, smaller bulls kept him company.

  Before climbing into his rig to drive down the lane, Jethro waved a farewell to Rachel, who stood leaning against her hoe in the garden. Ben turned from the window in frustration. His elbow banged against the plastic pail on the counter, shifting the five-gallon bucket closer to the edge. Jerking up a hand to catch it, Ben hissed in response to the pain that flared in his chest at the action, his fingers curling over the rim of the bucket.

  When the pain ebbed, Ben stared at the bucket’s contents. Extending one of the fingers curled over the pail’s rim, he flicked the end of one of the green beans Rachel had picked earlier in the day that filled the bucket. His gaze shifted down the counter to the collection of clear quart jars, waiting to be sanitized and filled tomorrow when Rachel put up the beans.

  Beans that weren’t yet snapped.

  Ben’s eyes narrowed as he regarded the full bucket of green beans. His chest and foot might be bunged up, but his fingers still worked. Eyeing the pail, he gauged its weight. Too heavy for him to move. He snorted with disgust at his limitation in doing something he wouldn’t have thought a moment about before. And the way his ankle was already starting to ache, he wouldn’t even be able to stand up for long.

  Glancing about the kitchen and living area for inspiration, his gaze landed on a tall stool. One that, to his apprehension, Rachel climbed to reach infrequently used items in the upper cupboards. If he could nudge it along the counter closer to the pail without twinging his ribs, it was tall enough that he could sit on it. It wasn’t much, but at least snapping beans, he’d be of some use to someone.