“I’ll be happy to do that, but your baby won’t be alone. There are wonderful doctors and nurses there.”
“The babe will need someone who loves him—someone whose voice he knows.”
“What about you? Don’t you need someone to stay here with you?”
Grace vividly remembered recovering from the broken arm and collarbone, fractured ribs, and internal injuries she had sustained when the MRAP in which she was riding had taken a direct hit. Those mine-resistant vehicles were good at absorbing the blow of a homemade bomb, but if the explosion was a large one—and the roadside bomb Grace’s MRAP triggered had involved nearly three hundred pounds of explosives—they sometimes overturned with troops inside.
That hospital stay had felt awfully lonely with no family beside her.
“You are not familiar with Amish ways.” A wisp of a smile crossed Claire’s face. “I will not be alone for long.”
“I’m glad to know that.”
A fresh-faced young deputy entered the room.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Shetler, but I need to find out what you can tell us about the person who shot you and your husband. Did you see his face?”
“No. He wore a mask, and gloves.” Her eyes were haunted, remembering. “Somehow he knew about the horse that Abraham had taken to auction the day before, and even though we gave him everything we had, it wasn’t enough. He thought we were holding back.”
“But why you?” Grace asked. “Why on earth would he shoot a pregnant woman?”
“I had a little money upstairs in my purse. Not much. I told him I would go get it. He followed me up there, but when he saw how little it was . . .”
“He shot you because there wasn’t enough money in your purse?” Grace wished she could get her hands on the man—whoever he was.
“He was disappointed.” Claire’s voice sounded weary. “And very angry. I think er is weenich aub—he’s a little off in the head. Or perhaps that is what people act like when they are on drugs?”
“I don’t know what the man’s problem was.” The officer’s voice was grim. “But we’re going to do everything we can to find him.”
“I’ll take your children to your sister’s and Levi to be with little Daniel,” Grace said. “Don’t worry about a thing. Just concentrate on getting better.”
It wasn’t until she was passing the nurses’ station that she remembered she didn’t have a car. She had left it back at the Shetlers’.
“Is everything okay?” Karen stopped typing and looked up from her computer.
“As okay as it can be. She asked me to take her younger kids to her sister’s and her oldest son to Children’s, but I came here in the ambulance. Is there a car rental place here in Millersburg?”
Without missing a beat, Karen reached into an oversized purse sitting at her feet and pulled out a ring of keys. “Here. Take mine. It’s the blue minivan in the side lot. Hit the button and it’ll beep.”
“I can’t take your van,” Grace said.
“Sure you can.” Karen jingled them in front of her. “Welcome to Holmes County—a place where people help each other.”
“How will you get home if I take your car?”
“I can catch a ride. One of the other nurses lives near my house.” She jotted a number on a slip of paper. “Call me when you get back and I’ll give you directions.”
“Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“From one former Dustoff nurse to another—I absolutely don’t mind.”
“I really appreciate it. I’ll call you as soon as I get back.”
“Before you go”—Karen handed her the keys, then leaned forward and lowered her voice—“how well do you know this Amish family?”
“Not well. Why?”
“I don’t know if this could be important to you, but I know a little about Claire Shetler. I heard about her when I did a rotation in obstetrics.”
“I know she considers herself a healer. Is there a problem with that?”
“No. As Amish healers go, Claire is one of the better ones.”
“So—what does this have to do with taking her kids to her sister’s?”
Karen looked uneasy. “It’s not the children.” She nodded toward Levi. “It’s him.”
“Him?”
“The oldest son.” Karen leaned closer and lowered her voice even further. “These people are Swartzentrubers.”
“I thought their name was Shetler.”
“It is Shetler. Swartzentruber is the name of their religious order.”
Grace shifted the strap of her black medical bag to her other shoulder. “I just thought they were Amish.”
“They are Amish.”
“Okay. I’m lost.”
“That’s why I’m telling you this. If the Amish had a caste system, the Swartzentrubers would be at the bottom. They are the most conservative of all the branches. They are also the poorest. The Swartzentrubers are so conservative, they even sets limits on how much money a man can make. If they make more than a certain amount, they are required to hand it over to the church to be used for no-interest loans to others within their church. And sometimes teenagers from the other Amish sects call them names.”
“Like what?”
Karen glanced over at Levi in the far corner of the waiting room to make certain he wasn’t listening. “Gnuddel vullahs.”
“You speak German?”
“It helps around here to learn a little. It means ‘woolly lumps.’”
“I don’t get it.”
“They milk by hand, not machine. Some of them get lumps of manure and dirt matted in their long beards.” Karen bit her lip. “I don’t mean to speak ill of anyone, but they don’t allow indoor plumbing, so some of them can’t bathe all that often.”
Grace looked over her shoulder at Levi. He was sitting, quietly entertaining the three children. Aside from his odd haircut and Amish clothes, he looked fairly normal to her. “He doesn’t even have a beard to get matted.”
“That’s because he isn’t married,” Karen said. “They usually don’t grow one until then.”
“Why are you telling me this? Am I supposed to be afraid of him?”
“It isn’t you who has reason to be afraid, it’s him. A single Swartzentruber man being seen alone with someone like you could get him disciplined by his church.”
“What do you mean—someone like me?”
“I think you look fine,” Karen said. “You’re cute as a button in that outfit. But in a Swartzentruber man’s eyes—especially in their bishop’s eyes—you are dressed like a harlot.”
A bubble of resentment caused Grace to press down a little harder than necessary on the accelerator as they left the hospital. She couldn’t help the way she was dressed. She had been inside her grandma’s house, minding her own business, washing breakfast dishes when Levi had come galloping up. She had reacted quickly—like the professional she was. The last thing on her mind was what she was wearing. In her opinion, she was dressed completely appropriately for someone on a warm spring day inside a farmhouse with no air-conditioning.
Karen’s words were not meant to hurt, but they stung anyway. A harlot? Grace couldn’t remember the last time she had even heard that old-fashioned term. Somehow, the archaic aspect of it made it sound even dirtier.
Now, here she was, painfully aware that Levi was studiously staring out the passenger-side window—no doubt to avoid the sight of her bare legs.
She hadn’t asked for this job. She didn’t want this job. Trying to be a good neighbor in this area obviously could be a pain in the neck.
She tugged at the hem of her shorts, trying to make them cover just a little more flesh. No luck. They covered what they covered, and deep down she had to agree with Karen—that wasn’t much.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go back to your house to pack some things for the children before we take them to their aunt’s?” she asked.
Levi’s eyes stayed fixed on the acres and acres of fields filled wit
h broken cornstalks, as though they were the most fascinating thing he had ever seen. “It is not necessary. Our aunt Rose has Kinner of her own—she will have what they need.”
“But it would only take a few minutes to turn around.”
“I do not want to go back to where our father died. It would not be good for the children. Not until our people have . . . cleaned.”
How right he was—and how wrong she had been to suggest it. She was used to dealing with soldiers, not children.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I was just wishing I had a minute to run into my own house and change clothes before we drive all the way to Columbus.”
“Why?” He turned his attention away from the broken cornstalks and looked at her.
For the first time since he had galloped into her life, she gazed directly into his eyes—and nearly ran off the road.
His hair was a variegated flaxen color that would cost the earth to duplicate in a salon. It was an unflattering cut, chopped off directly below the ears, but the color of it softened the starkness of the cut. His clean-shaven face was decidedly handsome, but it was his eyes, a dark shade of hazel flecked with gold, that were so arresting. She had never seen eyes like his before, and she felt as if they were looking right through her—and not liking what they saw.
She took in all of this in a glance before jerking the minivan back into her lane.
“I just thought—”
“Your clothing is not important,” he interrupted. “The children’s clothing is not important. The only thing that matters now is to get to little Daniel and let him know that he is not alone.”
“He’s less than an hour old. He won’t even be aware you’re there.”
“You know this to be true?” Again those eyes studied her.
“Well, no, I guess not.” Something about the directness of his gaze and voice unnerved her.
“He will know the sound of my voice. It will calm him.”
She had no reply. Science had shown that newborns were much more aware of their surroundings than people had once thought. Levi might be right for all she knew. Her expertise was not in pediatrics.
He dismissed their conversation by staring once again at the countryside whizzing past. The children, in her opinion, were unnaturally quiet. “Everybody okay back there?” She glanced into the rearview mirror. They were sitting as still as statues. “They’re awfully quiet, Levi.”
“Being inside a vehicle is not common to them.”
“Were you and your stepfather close?” Grace wondered if his reticence might be coming from deep grief. She knew a thing or two about grief herself.
“What do you mean—close?”
“You know—did you get along well?”
It took him longer than she thought the question warranted for him to answer.
“Abraham was a good provider,” he said.
“But were you close?”
“He was a dutiful father.”
She was about to probe a little more when suddenly he stiffened. “Turn here.”
Grace jerked the wheel and abruptly turned into a long lane that led to an idyllic rural scene. A lovely white farmhouse with a wraparound porch, built upon a gentle hill, rose before her. All around it were neatly maintained fields. A large, freshly painted black barn sat behind. A slender woman, dressed in a blue Amish-style dress with a kerchief tied around her hair, was trimming the fence line nearest the house with a gasoline-powered Weed Eater. A small girl about Sarah’s age slid down a brightly colored slide that was attached to a nice jungle gym. Three boys jumped up and down on a trampoline. An older girl was working in a vegetable garden.
Grace couldn’t help but compare it with the rather ragged and poor appearance of the Shetler farm.
“Are you sure this is the place?”
“It is.”
“This is your mom’s sister?”
“Rose is Maam’s twin.” He leaned forward, apparently drinking in the sight of this farm.
As Grace drove closer, the woman turned and shaded her eyes against the sun. Grace could see the strong resemblance between her and Claire. She stopped the van and Rose suddenly recognized who was in the car. She dropped the Weed Eater and covered her mouth, her eyes wide and frightened. Then she broke into a run. She reached Levi just as he climbed out of the car.
“What’s happened?” She grasped him by the shirt. “Where is Claire?”
“She is . . .” Levi suddenly choked up. He shook his head, unable to speak.
Grace saw that he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t say the awful words to this woman who looked so much like his mother. She climbed out of the car and came around to where Rose and Levi stood.
“I’m Grace Connor,” she said, “a neighbor of the Shetlers. Your sister is going to be okay, but there was a shooting . . .”
Rose’s face drained of color. She swayed slightly. Then she pressed her lips together, lifted her chin, and straightened her shoulders.
“The baby was taken to Children’s Hospital in Columbus, which is where we’re headed.”
“The baby?” Rose asked.
This puzzled Grace. Rose and Claire were sisters. Twins. It seemed odd that Rose wouldn’t know about her sister’s pregnancy. Grace glanced at Levi and saw that his attention had been caught by a man striding toward them from the barn.
“What is going on?” he demanded. The man was barrel chested and formidable looking in stained work clothes and boots. He barely glanced at Grace but stared at Levi as though at an apparition.
“Henry!” Rose exclaimed. “My sister has been shot. Someone came into their house.”
“What of Abraham?” Henry asked.
Levi found his voice. “Daed was killed by the intruder. Maam would take it as a kindness if you would care for the three Kinner while I go to be with the babe.”
The three children had managed to take their seat belts off, and their faces were pressed against the van’s windows. Rose lifted her hand in a wave.
“We will care for the children,” she said. “It will be good to finally get to know them.”
Levi lifted the children out, one by one, giving each an admonition to be good and to respect their aunt and uncle. Sarah showed signs of bursting into tears, but Rose cuddled her in her arms and spoke soothingly to her in soft German. The uncle, solemn and solid, laid a comforting hand on each of the boys’ shoulders.
There were no hugs, no tears, none of the awkward pats on the back that men tended to give each other in times of crisis. As Levi and Grace got back into the van, the uncle motioned for Levi to roll down the window. Levi fumbled with the unfamiliar button. Grace managed it with the controls on her side.
“Your mother will be in our prayers,” the uncle said. “And the babe. And you.”
Through the window, the men clasped hands. Grace guessed it was as close to a hug as either of them would get.
As she turned back onto the main road, many questions crowded together in her mind. Why had Rose not known of her sister’s pregnancy? Why were the children strangers to an uncle and aunt who lived less than five miles away? There was much she wanted to know, but Levi was so stone faced, she hesitated to ask.
He leaned forward as though to urge the minivan onward. “I would not mind,” he said, “if you drove faster.”
chapter THREE
It was obvious that Levi was completely out of his depth.
As the young farmer stood gazing at the high ceilings and the acres of brightly carpeted floor of Children’s Hospital, Grace could tell that he was overwhelmed by the enormity of the place.
She inquired at the front desk for directions and Levi followed close behind as she made her way to the NICU—the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. When she stopped in front of an elevator, he was so engrossed in looking around, he bumped into her.
“I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay, Levi. It’s a big place. There’s a lot to see.”
As they waited for the elevator, a nurse walke
d by pulling a crippled child in a red wagon. Another child whizzed along, pushed in a wheelchair cleverly designed to look as if it belonged to NASCAR.
“Jesse would like that chair,” Levi observed.
“Let’s hope he never has to be in one,” she said. “These are sick children, even if the staff does everything in their power to make this place cheerful.”
“Look.” He pointed upward.
She glanced up. Suspended high from the ceiling, designed to look as though they were soaring free overhead, was a flock of metal birds.
The elevator doors opened. As they began to go upward, Levi acted startled and grabbed hold of the handrail.
“First elevator ride?” she asked.
“I did not know that this room was going to start moving.”
“It will stop soon.”
She heard Levi give a small sigh of relief when the doors opened.
As they walked through the halls, she realized, for the first time, how many curious stares the Amish had to endure in public places.
Her medical training had not been in pediatrics, but after they had scrubbed and donned hospital gowns, and after the nurse ushered them into the neonatal ICU, even Grace could see that Claire’s baby—a tiny scrap of humanity lying in a clear plastic bed—was fighting for his life. She heard Levi’s quick intake of breath when he saw the baby. He recovered quickly and approached the infant.
The rapid heartbeat displayed on the heart monitor grabbed her attention. She knew what a normal heartbeat should look like—and that electronic line was decidedly not normal.
“Hello, Daniel,” Levi said softly, oblivious to the ominous lines of the monitor. “Our mother has given you a good strong name.” He carefully caressed the infant’s tiny arm. “You will grow up to be a fine man. Someday I will teach you how to plant and harvest and how to recognize the meadowlark’s call. We will milk cows together—you and me and your Bruders. You have a sister, too, and she will be a little mother to you. You must get better, Leiben. You have a family who needs you.”
Grace watched, transfixed, as this man who had been a complete stranger to her until a few hours ago began to sing softly. It was a strange-sounding song, and she didn’t understand a word, but his voice did not waver or go off-key. He acted utterly unembarrassed by his singing, seemingly unaware that anyone else was in the room except him and the struggling infant. The song sounded as though it came from the depths of his soul as he allowed the baby’s tiny fist to curl around one of his work-worn fingers.
An Uncommon Grace Page 4