Saving Susannah

by Beverly Bird

  Maybe she was making a mistake staying here. Maybe she was making a big mistake. But she had no time to dwell on it. A sound came from the direction of the kitchen door. She looked and saw Susannah there.

  “I thought you were sleeping,” Kim said. “What’s wrong?”

  “Uncle Jake woke me up.”

  “He just had the shock of his life,” Adam said dryly.

  “Mom, I don’t feel good again.”

  Kim felt the floor shift under her feet. She’d been lulled into a false sense of complacency, she realized as she rushed to her daughter. Susannah hadn’t come down with a fever in over two weeks now. Kim accepted—intellectually—that Suze had a very big problem, but somehow it was easier to cope with without all the little telltale signs barraging them.

  She caught her daughter’s face in her hands, feeling for fever. It was there. It hadn’t really bloomed yet, hadn’t taken hold, but it was starting, the way flames licked in a furnace before everything started to really burn.

  “Oh, God,” she said helplessly. She looked at Adam, at Joe. “We have to go back to Philly.”

  “Is this the leukemia?” Joe asked.

  “Not exactly. The leukemia weakens her resistance against...well, germs. It’s just some...bug.”

  “Well, then, let’s see what we can do about it immediately. No sense in making her hold out for two hours until we can get back to Philadelphia.” He went to the stairs. “Katya!” he called up.

  “What about Lancaster?” Adam suggested. “That’s closer. There are doctors. Admittedly not on a caliber with Coyle, but there are doctors.”

  Kim nodded, shook her head. She was still holding Susannah’s face. Susannah struggled away and sat down, a little exasperated, a lot weary.

  “The thing is,” Kim said helplessly, “this has been going on for enough months now that she’s developed a resistance to a lot of medicines.”

  “Then perhaps this will help,” Joe said, coming back into the kitchen. “Katya knows healing.”

  Kim looked suspiciously at her sister-in-law as the woman came back to the kitchen. Katya’s eyes were twinkling and her face was flushed, as though she had just been laughing.

  “Healing,” Kim repeated carefully.

  “Let me just see what I can do to make her more comfortable for the moment,” Katya said. “I certainly don’t mean to suggest that you not take her to a doctor. But it seems to me, under the circumstances, that it’s vital to get her temperature down as soon as possible. A fever taxes the body terribly. She’s running one?”

  “Yes,” Kim said warily, as the woman knelt beside her daughter.

  “What hurts, little one?” Katya asked.

  Susannah wrinkled her nose. “What doesn’t?”

  Kim flinched.

  “Well, let’s see what Sarah kept in the way of herbs.” Katya got to her feet again and moved to some potted plants on the windowsill over the kitchen sink. “I think it’s safe to say that whatever this is bit you before you got here.”

  “Why?” Kim demanded.

  Katya cast a vague smile over her shoulder. “Because there are very few contagions here. The Amish don’t mingle enough to catch them. For instance, none of my children even had measles until we moved to Dallas. Then, of course, they all came down with it at once.”

  “I’ve got a stomachache,” Susannah said. “And diarrhea. Not measles.”

  Katya nodded. “I can fix that. Joe, did you plant pumpkins this year?”

  “Pumpkins,” Kim echoed dazedly.

  “Yes. You need one,” Joe stated.

  “Just the seeds. Could you bring me a handful?”

  He went out the back door, and Katya set to work at the woodstove. “I make a tea with them,” she explained. “It purges the system.”

  “She is purging,” Kim snapped.

  “Well, she’ll do it one more time. And then that should be that. It will wash the germs right out of her.”

  “I don’t know about this,” Kim said doubtfully.

  Joe chose that moment to return with the pumpkin seeds. The area around the woodstove began to smell horribly. Susannah began to look green. She went back upstairs to their room.

  Kim sat weakly at the table. Oh, God, she was so tired. So tired of it all. Out by the forest, talking to Joe, she had actually felt a little stronger. She’d developed a means, a goal, a way to proceed. But now it felt as though everything were shattering again.

  Except...if what Katya had said about contagions was correct, then this was a very good place for Susannah to wait for a transplant—assuming she got through this bug. That was an added advantage Joe hadn’t mentioned.

  She continued to watch Katya put together a tray to take upstairs.

  “This is for the fever,” Katya said, placing a small glass beside the cup of tea.

  “What is it?” Kim leaned closer to it and sniffed. There was some frothy white stuff inside. At least it didn’t smell quite as foul as the tea. “I need to know exactly what’s in it.”

  “Of course. Egg white, sugar and vinegar,” Katya answered. “Nothing complicated.”

  Susannah had no dietary restrictions. The mixture seemed okay. Still, Kim blanched. “If she drinks this stuff, she’ll throw up all night.”

  “Oh, no.” Katya shook her head. “The egg mixture is for the bottom of her feet.”

  Joe saw Kim’s eyes register shock. “Let’s go,” he said quickly, taking her arm, pulling her to her feet.

  “Go? Where? I’m not leaving her.”

  “There’s a phone booth two miles up the road. We’ll call Dr. Coyle and find out what else we can do for her.”

  Kim latched on to that like a lifeline. It was a real, concrete, normal path of action from her own world. “Yes,” she said tightly. “Yes. That’s what we should do.”

  She let Joe guide her outside. She got as far as the porch before she had to go back for her car keys. Katya had already gone upstairs.

  When she was behind the wheel of the Mazda and Joe was buckled into the passenger seat, she gave him a sidelong look as she pulled away from the curb. “Which way?”

  “Keep turning left every time you come to a crossroads.”

  “You said it was ‘up the road.’”

  “A figure of speech.”

  She fell silent, then she let out a shaky breath. “I’ll say one thing for you, Joe.”

  “What’s that?” he asked curiously, and didn’t like the way his gut moved because there was apparently something about him she liked.

  “At least you don’t go through a big macho routine about wanting to drive.”

  He laughed shortly. “Not if we want to get there.”

  She looked at him. “You’ve never done it,” she said. “Not once in your whole life have you been behind the wheel of a car.”

  “No.”

  It was almost too much to comprehend.

  “How often have you driven a horse?” he asked.

  She gave a short, cracked laugh. “Good point.”

  He was right about the distance. It was just less than exactly two miles. She stopped the Mazda and looked dumbly at the little building he indicated.

  “It looks like an outhouse,” she muttered.

  “It’s not.”

  It was the shape and size of one. It had a very small window on one side showing a neat white curtain. The walls were covered to midheight with ivy. And scattered all around the base were the remains of last summer’s garden.

  She thought it would probably be very pretty in the summer, and she got out of the car shakily. She dug in her jeans pocket for change. She had to call information first to get the number, because she hadn’t remembered to bring it with her. She’d gone through all the coins she had with her before Coyle came on the line. The operator was whining for more money. She told the doctor quickly to call her back, gave the number and felt guilty for cheating the Amish settlement out of whatever share of money the call would have earned them. She was losing her mi
nd.

  The phone rang and she snatched at the receiver. “Susannah’s sick,” she blurted.

  “Yes, that’s a natural side effect of her cancer.”

  “I know that. What do I do?”

  “What are her complaints?”

  Kim told him.

  “Give her some children’s ibuprofen for the fever—I’ve found that works more immediately than acetaminophen. And an antidiarrheal.”

  “What else?”

  “Nothing else.”

  “Her other doctor gave her all sorts of antibiotics!”

  “And they’re not working much anymore, are they?”

  She wanted to hate him for his flat tone. But she found she was comforted by his knowledge. “No,” she said quietly. “Of course not.”

  “Mrs. Mancuso, the only thing that is going to fix your daughter at this stage is a transplant. My concern with the infections these children pick up in the meantime is that they weaken the immune system even further. The human body has to put up a tremendous amount of energy to sustain a fever. Susannah does not have large reserves of energy to draw on any longer. That’s why whenever one of these bouts passes, she sleeps a great deal, probably even more so than usual these days. Am I right?”

  “Yes,” Kim whispered.

  “And those periods grow longer with each subsequent fever.”

  “Yes,” she said again.

  “So we must get this fever down as soon as possible. I’m much less concerned about her other symptoms.”

  “That’s what Katya said,” she agreed absently.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Uh...nothing.”

  “Very well. Give her the ibuprofen. It should work within half an hour after ingestion. If it doesn’t, call me back.”

  “How much longer will you be there?”

  “My office will page me if I’ve left for the day.”

  Good enough, she thought. “Thank you.”

  “I’ll speak to you tomorrow,” he said, almost kindly. “Around this time.”

  “Right. Oh—wait. What about what my brother said when we were there? What about canvassing the community for matching donors?”

  “As I said, it’s a good idea. It’s been done before, and it’s often yielded fruit.”

  Often. She liked that word. Oh, yes, she definitely liked it. “That’s what we’ll do then.”

  “You’re thinking to canvass the Amish settlement?”

  “Yes. It’s been pointed out to me that these people wouldn’t be registered with any donor lists. They don’t have much to do with the outside world.” Her eyes went to the little window and beyond it, to Joe waiting in the car. Her heart and eyes both filled. “Someone here will help me.”

  “It’s certainly worth the effort,” Dr. Coyle said. “In fact, let me know when you want to do it. We’ll send technicians out from the hospital to oversee it. They’ll bring a van equipped to deal with such things. That will avoid contamination and maintain a clear identification of the samples.”

  Katya almost asked what something like that would cost, then she realized it didn’t matter. If insurance didn’t pay for it, then she’d find a way to come up with the money. Eventually.

  “Okay,” she said, and hung up.

  “Well?” Joe said when she slid behind the wheel again.

  “He said pretty much what Katya did.”

  To his credit, he didn’t gloat. She might have been able to dislike him if he had.

  “But if you don’t mind, I’d like to run into the village and buy some children’s ibuprofen just to be on the safe side,” she said dryly. “Pumpkins and eggs notwithstanding.”

  “Of course. If one world’s methods are good, then two are better.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Do you believe that?”

  “No. I’m reasonably happy the way I am.”

  She let out a bark of laughter and started the car. “You’re good for me, Joe.”

  “I’m hoping we’ll be good for each other.”

  Kim drove, and ignored the coiling warmth in the pit of her stomach.

  They ended up having to go all the way into Strasberg to find a drugstore that carried children’s ibuprofen. Kim decided to stock up on it so she wouldn’t have to make the trip again. She filled her arms with all the little boxes she could carry and started for the cash register, only to realize that Joe wasn’t coming with her. She turned back to look for him. He was filling his arms with the last of the ibuprofen.

  Kim took a shaky breath. She just wasn’t used to people helping her, she realized. And, surprisingly, it was the little things—like this—that had the most impact on her. A helping hand. An extra set of arms. These rattled her. “That’s not necessary,” she called back to him. “I’ve got seven bottles here.”

  “Then twelve is better,” he replied, coming to the register.

  “Twelve will last until she’s eighteen.”

  “You’ll be here for a while.”

  Her heart kicked. “Not that long.”

  “Do you want to risk running out?” he asked. “You can’t always get this sort of thing close to our villages. What if there’s another emergency?”

  There probably would be, Kim thought. It was the premise that had had her buying seven bottles to begin with. Five more bottles didn’t seem worth arguing about.

  Kim gave the cashier her credit card. The woman ran it through her little gadget and handed it back to her.

  “I’m sorry. It’s been declined.”

  “Declined?”

  The woman grinned sympathetically. “I guess you hit your limit. Happens to me all the time. Got another card?”

  “I...no.” This couldn’t happen now. She needed this medicine . She flipped open her wallet frantically. She had seventytwo dollars in cash left.

  “How much is it?” Joe asked.

  “Eighty-seven dollars and eighty-seven cents,” the cashier said. “Including tax.”

  “Oh, God,” Kim muttered. “Okay, okay, give me half of them.”

  The woman started to collect half the boxes.

  “That’s not necessary,” Joe said. “I have some cash on me.” He took a roll of bills from his pants pocket.

  Kim’s throat started closing. “I don’t want your money.”

  “You need it.”

  “Six bottles will be fine. That’s almost what I was going to buy to begin with.” Then something else occurred to her. “And what in the world are you doing walking around with all that cash anyway? People have been mugged for less.”

  “We don’t believe in banks. They’re—”

  “Against the ordnung,” she said for him.

  “Well, no. Not exactly. They’re just part of the anner Satt Leit world, and therefore to be dealt with cautiously.”

  Kim closed her eyes. “Oh, God,” she said again.

  Joe peeled off several bills and handed them to the woman.

  “Please...you’ve got to stop this,” she pleaded.

  “What is it, Kimberley? Why is it so hard for you to take anything from anyone?”

  “I take care of myself!”

  “That’s fine, as far as it goes. But this is for Susannah.”

  “I know! Will you stop saying that?”

  “Will you take my money?”

  “I already owe Jake and Adam over three hundred dollars!”

  “Then we’ll consider this an advance on your salary.”

  “I told you I don’t want your salary and damn you will you stop being so reasonable?” she shouted on one breath.

  The cashier’s eyes went back and forth between the pair. The line of customers was growing behind them. “Should I take this or what?” the woman asked, waving the money Joe had given her.

  “Yes,” Joe said.

  “Or what,” Kim snapped at the same time.

  The cashier bagged the ibuprofen and Joe grabbed it. “You,” he said quietly, “are being ridiculous. I’ll meet you outside.”

  Kim sta
red after him as he left the store. She fought a childish urge to stomp her foot. Then she laughed, shakily at first, a little soggily, and wiped her eyes again. “Damn him,” she whispered, reaching absently to take the change the woman offered her.

  “Hold on to that one, honey,” the cashier said, winking. “A guy like that is hard to find. Ain’t many out there you can shout at and not get a reaction from.”

  “Oh, he reacts,” Kim managed to answer. “But,” she added in a smaller voice, “he’s not mine.”

  She followed after him. He was already in the car when she went outside. She got in and sat staring out at the parking lot for a long time. A cold rain was beginning to fall, and dusk was gathering hard.

  “Snow by morning,” Joe said mildly.

  “It’s only November,” she muttered.

  “It snows here pretty much from November through March.”

  “Terrific. Something to look forward to.” She gnawed on her lip. “Thank you.”

  He watched her face, and her expression touched something deep inside him. He knew from both Adam and Jake that their childhood had not been an easy one. But he wondered if maybe the scars within this woman were the deepest of all.

  “It’s just...” she began, then trailed off. She wasn’t used to explaining herself, she realized. “It’s just that I’m afraid that if I get too used to other people helping me,” she began again, “then I’ll topple when I’m back on my own. Anyway... I’m sorry...if I made a scene back there.”

  “Apology accepted.”

  “I just panicked.”

  “I know.” Still, he thought, she seemed braced for some subsequent reprimand.

  He needed to touch her, he realized. He needed it badly. It would be as much for himself as for her, because he was the kind of man who enjoyed giving and what she needed now was to be reassured. He kept his hands to himself. Because she had agreed to stay. Because this wasn’t going to work if he touched her. Because he’d never be able to live inside himself again if he liked it.

  She finally started the car, and Joe breathed once more. Carefully.

  The house was silent when they got home. Kim felt a flutter of panic. Had Susannah gotten worse? Maybe they had rushed her to the hospital without her. Maybe there had been no time to wait for her return, no minute to spare. Maybe that crazy goop of Katya’s had had some adverse affect on the leukemia.