“Mattie, do you remember what the doktah said he would check today?”
“The usual things, I suppose. He’ll take blood and check my incisions. He said sometimes the stitches are slow to heal.”
“Do you think yours are healing?”
Mattie wasn’t altogether sure. Ever since she’d left the doctor’s office last week, she hadn’t wanted to look in the mirror again. Hadn’t wanted to see the spot where they’d removed the majority of her left breast. Hadn’t wanted to see how she was now scarred and ugly.
It bothered her far more than it should, perhaps. But, just the same, that was the way she felt.
“Mattie, you are healing, jah?” her mother asked a bit louder.
Mattie could feel her cheeks heat. What had happened to her was personal and private, and she surely did not like discussing her body parts so openly. “I think so, Mamm.”
“But you’re not certain?”
“It’s only been two weeks. Plus that’s something only the doctors can know for sure, jah?”
“Maybe.”
Inwardly, Mattie seethed. Though she knew her mother’s questions were asked with the best of intentions, and she knew her mother gave up much of her day to accompany her to the appointments, she was eager to have Lucy with her instead. Lucy, with her soft-spoken ways and dry sense of humor, would make even the hardest appointments more manageable.
And just as importantly, she could sit for hours without talking. And that would give Mattie some peace at last.
“I, for one, will be anxious for you to get another scan. I want to make sure they removed all of the cancer.”
“They think they did.”
“And he thinks you are healing all right?” she asked anxiously. Again.
Oh, but her mother tried her patience like no other. “He said I was healing just fine last week, Muddar.”
“Then I’m sure you are, dear.” As her mother mumbled something about scar tissue, and then somehow went on to discuss their dinner menu, Mattie leaned her head back against the beige vinyl seat and swallowed hard.
She’d squinted at her image in the mirror in the cool air of the exam room a week earlier, her doctor standing right next to her, pointing out where the incisions were healing. It had taken every bit of self-control she had to stand tall and straight and look directly . . . at her body, which looked so unfamiliar now.
To her, the sides of her chest looked broken and mismatched. Her right looked like herself, the left was now mottled with angry red scars. And flat, of course. Forever now, she would not have the figure she used to. There would be no reconstructive surgery for her like so many Englischers received.
“And then you will start chemo-ther-apy next week, ain’t so?” her mother asked, stumbling over the unfamiliar word.
“Yes. Lucy will get here, and then next Monday we will begin that.”
Her mother wrung her hands again. “I am so grateful for your cousin. Lucy’s visit is going to be a blessing for all of us.”
“Yes.”
“We should be giving thanks for her, Mattie.”
“I have been giving thanks for Lucy. Of course I have.”
But something in her voice must have not rung true, because her mother narrowed her eyes a bit and examined her more fully. Mattie did her best to look wide-eyed and relaxed under the inspection. But in truth, she felt as if her mother had suddenly located every flaw in her personality.
And Mattie knew there were many. And one, in particular, was most difficult to acknowledge. And that was the painful realization that her faith was not near as solid as she had imagined.
All her life Mattie had found comfort in the Lord’s presence. She’d always felt that she’d done her best to be a person she could be proud of, a person who others respected and admired.
As long as she could remember, she’d always done what she was supposed to. She’d been a dutiful daughter. She’d tried hard in school, had tried not to gossip, and lived by the rules of the Ordnung. And every night, without fail, she prayed.
She praised God for her many gifts. She gave thanks for her joys and for her family.
So why—at twenty-two years of age—did she get cancer?
That hardly seemed fair.
And though her mother and father spoke, mostly in platitudes, about how no one can know God’s will, and how He has a plan for each person . . . for the first time in her life, Mattie wasn’t sure she believed that.
Which was, of course, a terrible thing to admit.
“Mattie, we are almost at the medical center,” her mother said brightly, as if they were on their way to a county fair. “Perhaps afterward, we could go to the ice cream store and have a treat? Or maybe even to Bob Evans?”
“Yes. That would be nice,” Mattie said. Usually, her thoughts about that home-churned vanilla ice cream got her through the difficult examinations.
But today, the treat seemed like a too-small consolation for what was sure to be an uncomfortable appointment and a too-long journey to get there and back.
“Then we’ll head back to Jacob’s Crossing.”
“I will be ready to go home,” Mattie answered with far more emotion. She would be very ready to escape to the privacy of her room and relax and sleep. Once again, she wished that the medical center was not so far away. That she didn’t have to wait for the driver, and pay him for his time. That her mother—who meant so well, but was so irritating—hadn’t made Mattie’s cancer the center of her world.
All of it completely exhausted her.
Her mother’s cheeks bloomed. “I was going to wait, but I found I cannot keep my secret any longer.”
“Secret?”
“A group of us will be getting together at Joanne Knepp’s home to make fried pies for you. Mrs. Knepp wants you to come, too.”
Mattie’s head jolted back. “But, Mamm, I thought you agreed I should go home and rest.”
“Daughter, trust me. All the ladies will not expect you to be doing cartwheels,” her mother chided, as if Mattie didn’t know her mind. “No one expects you to stand on your feet and cook, either. But you could sit on the couch and chat with us, don’t you think?”
Mattie sighed. “You know how these appointments wear me out . . .”
“Yes, but seeing some fresh faces and chatting in their company shouldn’t be a problem.”
Before Mattie could comment, her mother patted her hand. “More likely, their companionship and heartfelt prayers will be just the cure you need.”
Mattie felt the bottom fall out of her stomach. The last thing she wanted was to sit with all of her mother’s friends and pretend that she was perfectly fine.
Because even though her body had been healing, her mind seemed to be going down a different path.
And it was toward a terribly dark place.
Chapter 3
After Calvin returned, he stood in the aisle chatting with Lucy over a sleepy Katie. They were whispering; and though hunching down, he could hardly hear Lucy. After she’d repeated the same phrase three times, Calvin had had enough.
He picked up Katie and carefully laid her over their seats.
With bleary eyes, Katie looked around in confusion. “Sleep now, sister,” Calvin murmured. “I’ll be right behind ya.”
When her body relaxed and her eyes drifted closed, he finally took a place next to Lucy.
“This is much better,” he said. “My back was going to cramp into a dozen knots if I had to stoop the way I was for much longer.”
“I’m surprised it hasn’t already,” she teased.
Her jest surprised him, and encouraged him as well. She was one of the most circumspect women he’d ever met. Lucy seemed unusually possessive over her words—guarding each one close to her heart before giving it up to him.
But perhaps that wasn’t true? She’d had no trouble amusing Katie when they listened for thunder . . . No, her skittishness seemed to be directed only his way.
Once again, he wondered why.
“I have to say, I’m mighty impressed with your sister. She seems to be able to sleep through most anything.”
“My parents would call that a blessing,” he replied. “She’s a late-in-life babe. Born seventeen years after my youngest brother, Graham.”
To his pleasure, she chuckled. “I imagine she was quite a surprise.”
“Oh, that is putting it mildly.” Lowering his voice, he said, “I have to admit that my brothers and I were a bit mystified by her appearance in our lives. We never imagined our parents were still, uh, enjoying the marriage bed.”
Her eyes widened.
And he wished he had a sock to stuff in his mouth. “I am sorry. Sometimes I say things I shouldn’t.”
Though her pretty cheeks turned pink, she shook her head. “Don’t apologize. I’m one of six children. My sisters and I have had that same conversation. I suppose some marriages are like that.”
Her last phrase was confusing. Calvin was going to ask her to clarify it, but the engine rattled again—and, in spite of his best intentions to act calm and assured, he jumped in alarm. He didn’t like things that were out of his control, and the goings-on of the giant train were certainly that. Now the faint scent of gasoline flowed though their car.
He’d followed an attendant with a flashlight when the lights had gone out in the dining car. Though most people had seemed determined to make the best of things and had declared they were fine with the battery-powered candles on the tables, he was not. He felt too out of control. Too out of his element. The motion of the train in the dark felt like the carnival ride he’d tried when his parents had taken them to the county fair when he was twelve.
Though he’d laughed like his brothers, his stomach had been in knots until he’d put his feet back on the ground. He liked things he could control.
And if he couldn’t control them, he at least liked to be able to see what was going on.
He’d felt too unsettled . . . and too concerned about his unexpected companion on the train. As quickly as he could, he had finished his cold roast beef sandwich and asked for help getting back to his seat.
And now he was sitting next to Lucy. Through the shadows, he felt her body tense as their silence lengthened.
“Did you find something to eat?”
The question didn’t matter, but the effort did, he supposed. “Jah. Though I paid too much for it, I suppose.”
“I found that to be true when I bought a sandwich on my first train.”
Struggling to continue their stilted conversation, he said, “When I traveled west, I brought several sandwiches with me. There was no way I could do that this time, not since we all went to a horse auction first before boarding the train.”
A beep and buzz overhead made Lucy jump. “Easy, now,” he murmured. “We’re safe.”
The lights flickered once, twice, then eventually clicked on for good.
Lucy exhaled. “At last!”
He smiled at her. “Ah, Lucy Troyer. It is gut to see you again.”
“Indeed,” she said, her lips curving slightly.
Twenty minutes later, the strange whirring noise grew louder. With a jerk, the train careened forward, pushing many people up from their seats—and causing half a dozen bags to fall out of the overhead bins.
As his backpack and her tote crashed to the floor beside him, then slid down the aisle, Calvin jumped up to retrieve them. But of course, right then the train jerked and rocked. And the lights went out again.
“Calvin?” Katie called out.
“Everything’s okay,” he said. “I’ll be right there. I just have to pick up our things,” he explained . . . just as the car wobbled on the tracks.
Worried cries echoed throughout the car as the screech of brakes pierced the air, followed by yet another jerk as, it seemed, the engineer struggled for control.
And Calvin attempted the same, grabbing for the edge of a seat to situate himself. Then, with a sputter and a last dying gasp, the train gave up its battle. Below their feet, a thousand gears screeched and then, with a loud, exuberant sigh, jerked to a stop again.
Bringing yet another batch of luggage, books, umbrellas, and jackets down.
Calvin held on tight as he was pummeled. Something heavy with a sharp edge knocked his head; another item ripped his shirt. “Umph,” he grunted.
“Calvin?” Katie asked, her voice tinged with fear. “Calvin? Are you all right?”
He was not. His arm stung, and his forehead felt like it had been introduced to the wrong end of a frying pan.
But that was surely not something he was going to admit so openly. In the dim shadows, he spied their things. With a grunt, he picked up his backpack and little Katie’s pink tote. Spying a notebook near his feet that looked to have fallen out of Lucy’s bag, he picked it up, then hastily stuffed it into his things. When things were calmer, he’d sort out whose items were whose.
“I’ve got Katie,” Lucy called out. “Come sit with us.”
More grateful than ever for Lucy, Calvin trudged back to his seat as an attendant came into the car holding a portable lantern so everyone could get settled.
“Remind me not to do something so foolhardy again,” he murmured as he gingerly sat back down. Then he turned to his sister, who was perched on Lucy’s lap. “Are you okay?”
Eyes wide, she nodded.
Well, that was not like her at all. Usually she chirped like a magpie. Over Katie’s head he met Lucy’s gaze. “Is she hurt?”
“I think she is just scared.” Her voice caught. “But, Calvin, I fear you’re bleeding.”
He held up his arm and inspected it. “Where? What can you see?”
“I don’t see much on your arm, but your forehead is another story,” she murmured as she pulled a tissue from a pocket in her dress.
“There’s blood on your shirt, Calvin,” Katie murmured. “You’re hurt bad. We should go tell Uncle John.”
Calvin laughed. “I’m too old to go running to my uncle, Katie. I’m sure this is nothing to fret about, anyway. Heads bleed a lot when they’re cut. I’ll be right as rain soon,” he said, hoping he sounded more sure than he felt.
Though his whole body felt like he’d been thrown from a horse, Calvin twisted and looked outside beyond the girls, craning his neck in what he knew was a futile attempt to see what problem had occurred. Of course he saw nothing.
“I wonder where we are,” Lucy said.
“I truly have no idea.”
“What do you think this means?” the woman in front of them asked. “Do you think we’ll all have to disembark?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” he said. “I’ve never heard of such a thing happening.”
Calvin looked around at the other people doing much the same as he—peering out with worried expressions—and found his uncle. “John, do ya know where we are?”
“Near Toledo, I think. My guess is twenty miles out.”
“So we’re nowhere near the train station.” Leaning toward Lucy, Calvin said drily, “I fear things still aren’t getting any better.”
To his pleasure, he felt her muscles relax next to him, and Lucy said, “Now we can only hope they don’t get much worse.”
Causing Calvin to smile, right there in the dim light.
Minutes later, Katie pressed her lips to Lucy’s ear. “I have to go to the bathroom,” Katie whispered, but it was loud enough to make Lucy’s ear ring. “What should I do?”
“Wait.”
She squirmed. “But, Lucy, I don’t think I can wait verra long.”
In spite of the situation, Lucy found herself chuckling. Of course, Katie would have such a normal problem in the middle of such an abnormal situation. It was how kinner were! For a moment, she closed her eyes and gave thanks to the Lord for bringing Katie and her brother into her life.
If she had still been traveling alone, too afraid to speak to anyone, the situation would be unbearable.
“Lucy?” Katie whispered, her voice impatient as she squirmed
. “What should we do? I’ve gotta go.”
Lucy couldn’t help but notice that Katie had now looped her into the problem. “I think we should be patient for a little bit longer, dear. Our attendant should let us know what is happening any moment.”
“But—”
“Enough, Katie,” Calvin said sharply.
Lucy squeezed the little girl’s shoulders. “If no one comes in five minutes, I’ll walk you down.”
“Promise?”
“Of course,” she replied, though she hoped it wouldn’t come to that. Walking through the dim light with a child while stepping over fallen luggage and other personal items would be quite an obstacle course.
Luckily, right then, their attendant stepped into the train car, a flashlight beaming in his hand.
Immediately, everyone halted their conversations and looked his way.
“Quiet! Quiet, please.” After he cleared his throat, he spoke again. “I regret to inform you all that due to circumstances beyond our control, we will have to unload the train.”
“What happened?” Katie’s Uncle John called out, his deep voice full of authority.
“The engineer has not informed me,” the attendant replied primly.
“Well, why not?” another man called out.
Lucy leaned forward to hear the answer. But instead of responding to the question, the attendant turned forceful. “Please, everyone, remain calm. I know some of you have experienced some injuries, and others are terribly shaken up. The engineer has called ahead and requested medical assistance.”
As various people murmured about their slight injuries, Lucy noticed that Calvin merely sat silently—as if his forehead weren’t bleeding. “At the moment, we are attempting to turn on our emergency power source. With any luck, the lights will flicker on in a few moments.”
A few moments later, the attendant spoke again. “Buses have arrived,” he proclaimed. “We will unload and take you to Toledo. There, we will do our best to rebook all of you in a timely fashion. For everyone’s safety, please gather your items and move forward.”
Around her people groaned but were fairly obedient as they gathered their belongings.
Katie scrambled to her feet. “Oh, I hope we can hurry! I’ve really gotta go.”
The Caregiver Page 3