An Uncommon Grace

by Serena B. Miller

  She appeared to be trapped by a balloonlike thing, and she was not moving. Instead of struggling, she was lying completely, deathly still. The steering wheel had been shoved up against her by the tree, and the horn wailed on and on, hurting his ears and hurting his heart.

  He did not know much about cars, but he could see that he would not be able to get her out without puncturing that heavy bag that held her trapped. It took every bit of his strength to wrench open the door. Then he pulled out his pocketknife and plunged it into the bag. As it lost air, Grace slumped to her side and began to slowly slide out of the car.

  He caught her in his arms before she could tumble out onto the ground.

  There was a large cut above her right eye, bleeding and staining her clothes as he clasped her against his chest. The car had traveled up an embankment, and he struggled to keep his balance as he carried her across the ditch and to his buggy.

  As he waded through the darkness, the rain pelting him with the sting of needles against his face, he could see exactly why she had so little time to react. His buggy was all but invisible. The few strips of gray reflective tape that he was allowed were no help in the dark. The two kerosene lanterns that he was allowed to hang on his buggy were barely noticeable in the glare of the bright headlights.

  Grace, in a split-second decision, had aimed at a line of trees instead of crashing into him. He was so grateful, he was trembling. From the looks of the crumbled nose of her car, he knew that the fragile buggy would have been a pile of matchsticks had she hit it with that much force.

  She could not even have known it was him. There were other Swartzentruber families further down the road. There were no distinguishing features on his buggy to indicate who it was arriving home too late from Sunday services. She had nearly killed herself without even knowing for whom she was sacrificing herself. What kind of woman did something like that?

  It was awkward climbing into the buggy with her in his arms, but he was so upset over what had happened, he felt as though he could lift the buggy and the horse all by himself if it would mean saving her life.

  The thing he feared most was that there could be internal bleeding. He knew that ribs protected the inner organs. He also knew that sometimes there was great trauma if they broke and punctured something. Grace had taken a great blow to the chest. She seemed to be breathing all right, but one could not always tell this quickly if there was damage.

  Once again he needed medical help and had no way of asking for it.

  If only the bishop had not made him throw away his telephone. There would already be an ambulance on its way. They would have a safe and fast way to get her to the hospital. Instead all he had was a buggy, a horse, and three children.

  “Hurry, Albert,” he said. “We must get her home.”

  Albert knew how to drive the buggy horse as well as any other ten-year-old Amish boy—and that was extremely well.

  “Giddyup!” Albert shouted, and once again their driving horse felt the sting of wet reins being slapped across its rump.

  The horse took off, jerking Levi against the back of his seat. They were at her house in a few heart-stopping minutes.

  “Stay here,” he said to the children. “Albert, you and Jesse care for your sister.”

  He had no doubt that they would obey. Their mother had taught them to respect his authority.

  He raced up onto the porch and pounded on the door with his boot. It was a screen door, not particularly well fitted, and it banged with each kick.

  No one came to the door.

  Holding her body against his with one arm and one knee, he tried the doorknob. It was locked.

  Frantically, he cast about in his mind for what to do if no one was home. Then the door swung open.

  “Levi!” Elizabeth looked at the precious burden he was carrying. “Oh, dear God, please, no!”

  For a moment, he was afraid he was going to have to call for two ambulances when he got inside. The pallor that came over Elizabeth’s face was startling, but she managed to hold the door open so that he could carry Grace inside.

  “She crashed into a tree,” he explained, “to keep from running into us.”

  “Oh, dear.”

  He carried her to the flowered couch and laid her gently upon it. The blood from the head wound seeped onto the fabric, making one large red cabbage rose even larger.

  “There are cloths in the kitchen,” Elizabeth said. “You are faster than I am. Go bring me one. Wet it with cold water.”

  He ran to the kitchen and grabbed a dish cloth off the counter. He then turned knobs until he had a stream of cold water with which to moisten the cloth. So handy. So incredibly handy not to have to go outside and draw well water.

  He wrung the cloth out, went back into the living room, and handed it to Elizabeth, who pressed the cold compress against the cut.

  “Should we call an ambulance?” he asked.

  “In a moment,” Elizabeth said. “Let’s see if we can wake her up first. She might not be pleased to discover herself riding along in an ambulance if she’s only been knocked out for a few minutes.”

  Elizabeth took the compress away and examined the wound more closely. The bleeding was lessening, but it had not stopped completely.

  Suddenly, Grace’s eyes flew open. “What in the . . . ?” She looked around the room, trying to get her bearings. “What happened? And where in the world did you come from, Levi?”

  He told her what had happened.

  “Do you want to go to the hospital?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Give me a minute.” Grace tried to sit up. She winced and lay back down. “Somebody help me up.”

  Levi lifted her to a sitting position.

  She explored her rib cage with her fingers. “I don’t think any ribs are broken.”

  “That’s good,” Elizabeth said.

  She wiggled hers toes and fingers. Lifted both legs.

  “I think I’m okay, but I’m going to be very sore tomorrow. I don’t think I need to go to the hospital.”

  “That big balloon thing saved your life,” Levi said.

  “You mean the airbag?” she said.

  “Yes—the airbag.”

  “That’s also probably what knocked me out.” She wriggled her jaw back and forth. “I don’t think any facial bones are broken, but I feel like I’ve been punched in the face by a professional boxer.”

  “It is beginning to swell a little,” Elizabeth said.

  “Where’s Becky?”

  “She called a little while ago and said she was helping collate a cookbook the women at church are putting together.”

  “She was supposed to come straight home from church tonight and be here with you,” Grace said. “I wouldn’t have gone out to pick up that gallon of ice cream you wanted otherwise.”

  “I told her I was fine and to stay and help.”

  “What time is it?”

  There was a clock just a few feet in front of her on the wall.

  “It is after eight,” Levi said. “Can you not see the clock?”

  “My eyes are still a little blurry.”

  “Perhaps they will get better if you rest them.”

  “How is my car?”

  “Not good.”

  “I remember now,” she said. “I came around the curve and then suddenly I realized I was going to hit someone. The last thing I remember is heading for the ditch. Did you have the children with you? Are they okay?”

  “Because of you, they are fine.”

  “Where are they?” Grace asked.

  “Outside in the buggy.”

  Elizabeth suddenly sank down into an armchair. Her pallor had returned.

  “Go bring me her medication bottles that are beside her bed, Levi,” Grace instructed. “All of them. Quickly.”

  He hurriedly brought the handful of medicine bottles to Grace. “Are these what you want?”

  “This one.” She selected a bottle of small white pills and shook one out. “Here, Grandma. Pu
t this under your tongue.”

  Elizabeth did as instructed and he saw the color gradually return to her face.

  “I think I need to lie down for a bit,” Elizabeth said. “Would you help me into my room, Levi?”

  “Of course.”

  “I’m so sorry to be such a bother,” she apologized as he helped her lie down. “I used to be much stronger.”

  “You will never be a bother.” He pulled his mother’s quilt up over his old friend. “Now rest.”

  “I shouldn’t leave either of you alone,” Levi said when he returned to Grace in the front room. “When do you think your sister will return?”

  “She told me two hours ago that she would be home in a few minutes. I wouldn’t have left otherwise.”

  “Then perhaps I should bring the children in and wait until your sister gets home.”

  “I hate to ask, but that might be a good idea,” Grace said. “I’m still feeling a little wonky.”

  Wonky was not an Englisch word he had heard before, but it sounded like a word that well described how she must feel.

  When he got to the buggy, Jesse was playing a finger game with Sarah, and Albert was sitting as quietly as a statue, concentrating on making certain that the big horse did not move.

  “We need to go into Elizabeth’s Haus until the sister gets home,” he said.

  “Is Grace all right?” Albert asked.

  “She says she is. I am not so sure.”

  He tied the horse to a fence post, gathered up the children, and took them inside. Grace still had the dish towel pressed against her head. One eye was beginning to swell shut, but she still had a smile for the children.

  “There’s a package of Oreo cookies in the kitchen,” she told Levi, “if they would like some.”

  He marveled at the woman. She was bruised and bloody, her car was destroyed, and by the way she squinted her eyes at him he could tell that she was still having trouble focusing—and yet she was concerned for the children.

  “There’s a gallon of fresh milk in there, too,” she said. “The glasses are above the sink.”

  The children looked up at him with hopeful eyes, but he knew that if he refused they would not complain. They had been taught better than that—unlike so many Englisch children he had seen throwing fits in the stores wanting things their parents did not want to purchase for them.

  “They have been good children tonight. They may have some cookies,” he said. “Can I bring something to you?”

  “Honestly, I could really use a hot cup of tea,” she said. “If you don’t mind. There’s a canister on the counter by the stove. While you’re making it, I’m going to call the sheriff. They need to know about the wreck.”

  He found the package of cookies and seated the children around the table. There were napkins in a little container in the middle, and he put one in front of each child, giving them two cookies apiece. Then he put the package back on the counter. There was no reason to allow them to make pigs of themselves.

  The children’s eyes were wide as they watched him open the door and pull out a plastic gallon of milk. It took a moment to find glasses for the milk. As he searched he saw more dishes than he had ever seen before. He could not imagine what use they had for all of them.

  He found three small glasses. They had funny pictures on them that he thought would amuse the children. There was a big-eared mouse wearing clothes with big buttons, a silly-looking duck wearing a blue coat and a hat, and a funny little man with red whiskers, a big hat, and two guns. He put that glass back in the cabinet. The children did not need to see guns on their milk glass. He chose instead a glass with a redheaded woodpecker on it. There was a mischievous look on the woodpecker’s face—which he thought very much caught the attitude of some woodpeckers he had watched.

  He filled each glass with milk and placed one in front of each child. They automatically bowed their heads and said a silent prayer before they took the first bite.

  “These taste good,” Jesse said, “but not as good as Maam’s.”

  “Let’s not tell Grace that.” Levi tousled the little boy’s hair.

  It was now time to start Grace’s tea. He filled the teakettle with water from the faucet and placed it on the electric stove. He twisted knobs until he felt heat emanating from one of the burners, and he set the teakettle on it. Then he searched for a cup. After what Grace had done to keep from harming the children, making tea was the least he could do. In fact, the sight of the children sitting unharmed around the table was so miraculous to him that there was little Grace could ask of him right now that he would not do.

  He was a little overwhelmed by the sheer number of mugs from which to choose. He stared at them while waiting for the kettle to boil. He finally selected one covered in gold-colored daisies.

  Somehow the daisies reminded him of Grace. They were such a friendly flower, and one that did not need a great deal of care. They thrived in whatever soil they were planted. Like Grace.

  He put the teabag in the cup and just as the kettle was ready to boil he had a crisis. He did not know if Englisch people took sugar in their tea or not. He hurried to the living room.

  “Do you want sugar?” he asked.

  “Tonight—I think it would be a good thing to drink something sweet,” she said. “I’m still feeling shaky.”

  He made the tea and took it in to her. When she touched the cup, she pulled her fingers back quickly. “Hot!”

  The cup had not felt that hot to him.

  “I’m sorry.” He turned it so that he held the bowl of the cup in his hands with the handle held toward her.

  She stared at his hands, and then at him. “Doesn’t that burn you?” She took the cup from him.

  “No.” He held his hands out flat and turned them over. His palms were so calloused from work that he had barely felt the heat.

  “I have met a lot of people, Levi,” she said, blowing gently on the steaming tea, “but never anyone like you.”

  “And I have never known someone like you.”

  She took a sip. “But we cannot be friends.”

  “No.” This was one thing about which he was certain. “We cannot be friends.”

  She held the tea gingerly on her lap. “You do know that this rule your people have against making their buggies visible at night is a form of suicide.”

  “No. It is God’s will.”

  “You don’t believe that,” she said. “You don’t believe for a minute that it is God’s will to put small children at risk. We Englisch may do many stupid things, but at least most of us try to protect our children. We put them in car seats and seat belts. You rely entirely on God to be their seat belt as you drive down the road hoping and praying that an Englischman will just happen to see your buggy in time to stop. That’s just wrong, Levi, and you know it. Those children have no one to protect them except you. It won’t be Bishop Weaver who’ll grieve for the rest of his life if anything happens to them.”

  “You do not understand our ways.”

  “That’s a smoke screen you throw up every time you don’t know how to answer me, and you know it.”

  She leaned over to set her teacup on a magazine lying upon the coffee table and winced as she sat back up.

  It hurt him to see her in pain, especially since he knew he had inadvertently been the cause of it.

  “My grandmother has told me that even the Old Order Amish allow the orange triangle on the back of their buggies. I’ve even seen several of them with flashing lights. They and the other Amish orders do what they can to give an Englisch driver some warning, some help. Do you know what it would have done to me if I had hit your buggy? Do you know what it would have done to me if I had actually hurt one of those precious children or you?”

  He saw a flash of fury in her green eyes. It was the first time he had ever seen her truly angry.

  “It would have killed me inside,” Grace said. “Do you understand what I am saying to you? It would have killed me!”

&n
bsp; She leaned back against the couch as though exhausted from the effort to get through to him. “I have spent my life trying to save other people’s lives. I have seen soldiers torn apart by bombs deliberately set by other human beings, and I have helped patch those soldiers back together. I’ve sent them back home to their families missing limbs and eyes—some unable to walk. To see someone as intelligent as you are putting people you love in jeopardy for no other reason than some leader’s arbitrary ruling—it’s just about more than I can bear.”

  Now he was getting angry. She had accused him of not caring about his own family.

  “I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you,” she said when she saw the pain in his face. “But I would be a coward if I didn’t say these things to you.”

  “You judge us, but you know nothing about us.”

  “Then explain it to me, Levi!” Her eyes again flashed green fire. “I don’t care if you don’t have refrigeration or indoor plumbing or wear one suspender or two. I don’t care if you want to bump along on steel wheels or glide along on rubber ones. But you need to explain to me why you endanger the people you love simply because you have allowed yourself to be imprisoned by some man-made tradition! Why can’t you get it into your head that you live in the United States? Unlike so many people all over the world, you actually have freedom—including the freedom to choose to protect your family by sticking a stupid orange triangle on the back of your buggy!”

  He was truly furious now, and yet he knew, deep down, that the reason he was furious was because she was asking the same questions he had asked himself time and time again. He gave her the only answer he could think of.

  “Freedom? How can you, a woman from a world that allows you to choose anything you want to wear, or anything you want to drive, understand the freedom of not having to think about styles or colors or vehicles because the community has already made that decision? There is freedom in simplicity, Grace, freedom in unity. And that includes retaining the freedom for our Swartzentruber sect to be allowed to leave our buggies Plain and not be dictated to by a government that is supposed to allow religious freedom.”

  It was the longest speech he had ever given, the first time he had ever defended his faith to anyone except himself, and he found himself breathing hard from the emotion of it.