by Mary Ellis
Josie perched on a stack of grain sacks. “I don’t mind talking, and no, Cal hasn’t changed his mind about joining the church. He’s just not ready to commit to me.”
“What’s wrong with you? Has he heard some false gossip about one of my girls?” Mamm’s hen-feathers ruffled with alarm.
“I don’t think so. Apparently, whatever happened up in Cleveland has shamed him, and he can’t seem to forget. I told him I don’t care what he did, but it does no good. He said nothing he’s heard during membership class has made any difference. He doesn’t feel any closer to God being Amish than he did being Englisch. He said he prays, but God ignores him.”
That generated a harrumph from her mamm. “God never ignores a contrite heart. Maybe he’s not all that sorry about his mistakes.” Margaret shook water droplets from her umbrella onto the recently swept floor.
“I believe he regrets his past, but can’t forget long enough to plan a future.” Josie paused to choose her words carefully. “I hope this doesn’t sound prideful, but he acts like he’s not worthy of me.”
“Ach, maybe that’s because he’s not worthy of you.”
Josie blanched. “Mamm, it’s not like you to be so uncharitable. Don’t you like Cal?” Suddenly, she felt like that little girl stomping through mud puddles in their lane instead of a grown woman.
“My opinion of him is of no consequence. I used to like the old Caleb Beachy before he left on rumschpringe, but he was gone a long time. Five years in the city isn’t the same as a month of camping out West. Plain folks who are gone that long usually don’t return to the fold.”
“He shouldn’t even try? We should wash our hands of a tainted man? Who among us is without sin?” Josie’s voice rose in increments with each word until she was practically shouting.
Margaret arched one eyebrow. “Control your temper, young lady. I didn’t say that and your courting woes aren’t my doing.”
Josie abandoned the feed sacks to encircle her mother’s waist with both arms. “Mir leid. I’m so miserable that I’m lashing out at everyone. Maybe I should move into the hayloft for a few weeks. You could set my meals beside the bowl of cat food.” Josie laid her head against her mother’s shoulder.
“Nothing doing. Tomorrow is your night for dishes. We’re not letting you off the hook.” Margaret rubbed Josie’s back in a circular pattern.
“Even though we’ve broken up, I still love Caleb. How can I help him? Surely he can’t be a lost cause. Look at Mary Magdalene’s past history.”
Elizabeth held her at arms’ length. “Of course he’s not a lost cause. God often allows His children to fall far before drawing them back. But understand me: You can’t do anything. The only person who can help Caleb is himself. He must want this. And I don’t mean just marriage, but to be restored to God’s grace. Going through the motions of membership won’t suffice. I respect him for not falsely taking vows just to marry you. Now you’re free to court someone else once your heart heals.”
Josie stepped back from her mamm’s embrace. “I don’t want to court somebody else. Aren’t you listening to me?” Tears streamed down her face as though in competition with the downpour outside. “I love him.”
“I have listened to you.” Margaret spoke with the patience of a veteran parent. “But I repeat: You can’t change Caleb’s future. You can make a life with someone else or remain single, wallowing in grief until you die. Caleb must choose his own path...with or without you. With or without God, for that matter.”
She slid back the door and opened her umbrella. “Looks like it’s not letting up. Are you ready to make a run for it?”
Josie shook her head. “No, I’ll stay here a little longer. I’ve got some thinking to do.”
Margaret’s mouth drooped. “Suit yourself, but I’m ready for coffee and apple pie.” She turned and vanished into the growing gloom.
With her mother gone, Josie was alone to pace the aisles, climb the steps to the loft, and peer out the window on a soggy world. But no clever plan or new attitude arrived no matter how hard she mulled the conundrum. In the end she knew Mamm was right. There was nothing left for her to do but go to bed. And forget about ever sharing a life with Caleb.
On the Saturday after Labor Day, Adam Troyer limped back to the barn while gnats buzzed about his head. As days went, he’d had better. Although his brothers usually managed the farm under Daed’s direction, harvesting demanded everyone’s help—even those with full-time jobs elsewhere. He had little time to work on his new cottage for his bride to be.
It also left little opportunity to even see Sarah.
This week the inn would be recovering from the onslaught of the family reunion. Serving and cleaning up after thirty men, women, and children with only Rebekah and Mrs. Pratt must have been exhausting. The sooner Sarah quit her job the happier he would be. Yes, tourists arrived eager to see fall colors, but didn’t leaves change on city streets and in suburban subdivisions? Lee Ann would have to hire someone else. Plenty of women were looking for jobs in this economy. If she would simply hire Englisch employees, she wouldn’t be left in a pinch when Amish girls decided to marry.
Bending over to search Daed’s toolbox, Adam clunked his head on the vise handle. “Ow!” he muttered. While cutting hay, his brother declared the blade needed adjustment, so Adam volunteered to hike back for the tools...and twisted his ankle in a gopher hole along the way. Now he would have a goose egg on his forehead to go along with the swollen ankle.
“Are you all right?” a voice sounded from behind.
Adam turned to see his future brother-in-law’s apprehensive face. “Jah, I’m fine. What’s another lump on this old melon?” He forced a smile despite the start of a headache. “I don’t know which of my bruders can’t remember to turn the vise handle toward the wall.” After retrieving the screwdriver, Adam slowly straightened his spine.
“That lump is starting to swell.” Caleb stepped closer to inspect. “You might need some ice.”
Adam waved off the suggestion. “It’s nothing to worry about. Why have you come this fine September morning? Did the Beachys run out of chores so you decided to lend the Troyers a hand?” He stuck the tool into his back pocket. “Everybody’s out in the fields, cutting, raking, baling, or moving hay to the loft. We had a good crop this year. We’ll have enough left over to share.”
Caleb shifted his weight between feet. “We don’t own close to the size of your spread, but I still have plenty of chores. Especially since I’m gone all week at the Sidleys’. But the reason—”
“The Sidleys are who came to mind about sharing our hay. How is the house reconstruction going? My father said he’ll send over a few heifers in the spring in case John wants to increase his herd. Even some bulls that he could raise for beef.”
“Albert will be much obliged, but John takes no interest in farming these days. The reason I came—”
Adam interrupted Caleb a second time. “Sarah told me what you’ve done for Albert and his bruders. You’re a gut man, Cal. Few would take an interest in people who slammed the door in their face too many times to count.”
Caleb crossed his arms. “Sarah is why I’m here.”
Adam sighed. “Did you hear about our spat last week? I sure wish Rebekah would find something better to do than eavesdrop on conversations. You needn’t worry about us. Sarah will quit her job when the time is right. I just wish it would be sooner, rather than later. Say, would you like to see how our new house is coming?”
Caleb lifted both palms into the air. “What I would like is to get a word in edgewise. I’ve never heard you run on so, Adam.”
“Sorry. I’m excited about finishing our home.” His expression turned to that of a chastised dog. “You wanted to talk about your sister?”
Caleb blew out his breath. “Sarah is sick. She’s been feeling poorly for a while. Mamm thought the heat had brought her low. Out of everyone, Sarah tolerates humidity the worst. And Daed thought she was simply exhausted from working to
o hard at Country Pleasures.”
“She seemed okay at preaching last Sunday,” Adam interjected softly.
“That was an act she put on for your benefit and my parents’. Sarah doesn’t want folks worrying about her...or forcing her to leave the inn short of help during the busy season. Sarah gave Mrs. Pratt her notice. As soon as her replacement is hired and trained, she’ll quit.”
Adam waved off his reassurance. “I know that. Get on with what you came to say.”
“After I brought her home after church, she fell asleep in the hammock and spent the entire day under the tree. She didn’t eat lunch and would have missed supper if Mamm hadn’t dragged her into the house. Mamm insisted Sarah eat a bowl of cold cereal and drink some milk.” Caleb stepped closer as though he were whispering a confidence. “I heard her throwing up later in the bathroom. ’Spose I’m no better than Rebekah spying on my schwester’s business.”
Adam shook his head as blood drained from his face. “It’s not the same thing at all. I’m grateful that you’re concerned about Sarah. Tell me what I can do.”
“I’d like you to come home with me to see her. Then you decide for yourself what needs to be done.”
Adam felt his knees and legs weaken. “What do you mean ‘what should be done’? Should I call the doctor from our neighbor’s and ask him to meet us at your place?”
Caleb dropped his arms to his side. “I think she should be in a hospital. But when I suggested it, my father accused me of making his decisions. He’s of the opinion I haven’t given up my willfulness.”
“If you believe Sarah should be in a hospital, why are we standing here chewing the fat?” Adam pulled the screwdriver from his pocket. “I’ll deliver this to James in the hayfield to fix the cutting blade. Then I’ll meet you at your buggy.” He started toward the door.
“I hired a car to bring me—no time to travel by horse and buggy.”
Adam’s heart contracted in his chest from the implication. “I’ll be right there.” Forcing his legs to move, he bolted into the hayfield, ran back to the house for his wallet, and delivered a one-sentence explanation to his mother. He ignored his throbbing ankle and the knot on his forehead as he jumped inside the hired car. He prayed silently as icy fingers crawled up his spine.
Please, Lord. Don’t let anything bad happen to my Sarah.
At fifty miles per hour, the car cut the distance between the Troyer’s and Beachy’s into a fraction. While Caleb paid the driver, Adam ran to the porch and took the steps two at a time. Not waiting for an answer to his knock, he threw open the kitchen door. “Guder mariye, Mrs. Beachy. May I see Sarah?”
Elizabeth looked like she’d seen a ghost. “Jah, she’s still abed, but Rebekah will take you upstairs.”
“Danki. Cal said she’s feeling poorly.”
The troublesome younger sister rose from the table where she’d been coring apples. “If Sarah would stop refusing to eat, she might start to feel better.” Rebekah delivered her unsought advice on their way up the steps.
“I didn’t realize you’d gone to medical school, Rebekah. Perhaps you could look at my sprained ankle after I finish visiting Sarah.” Scorn rolled off his tongue. Adam wasn’t a man of sarcasm, but Rebekah tended to bring out the worst in people.
Since he and Sarah were merely engaged, an unchaperoned bedroom visit wasn’t permitted. But at least Rebekah sat quietly. It took him little time to arrive at the same conclusion as Caleb. “Sarah. How are you feeling, liewi?” Adam asked from the doorway.
His Deutsch endearment brought a grin to Sarah’s wan face. “I’ve been better.” She tried to rise up on one elbow. “But I’ll be fit as a fiddle by November for our wedding. How is the house coming along?” During the question, a fit of shivers wracked her thin frame, followed by a convulsive cough.
Terrified, Adam rushed to her side and covered her hand with his. A fistful of ice cubes would feel no warmer. Dark smudges underscored Sarah’s eyes and her cheeks had sunken beneath her skin. How was it possible that two weeks could so adversely affect a twenty-one-year-old woman? “The house is coming along nicely,” he said. “Almost ready for a woman’s touch when you’re feeling better.”
As Sarah labored to breathe, her haunted eyes tore a hole through his gut. He turned to Rebekah, sitting on the other twin bed. “Pack an overnight bag of your schwester’s toiletries and sleep clothing. She’s going to the hospital in Canton.” To Sarah, he replied in a calm voice. “I’m sure you’ll improve faster with medicine other than aspirin, honey lemon tea, and chicken soup.”
“Mamm’s cure-alls haven’t worked so well this time. Danki, Adam.” Sarah spoke with great difficulty.
The fact that Sarah didn’t argue about a trip to the ER scared him more than anything thus far. “I’ll be right back.” He squeezed her fingers but felt no return response. After a pointed glare, Rebekah sprang to action while he hurried downstairs.
In the kitchen Caleb, Eli, and Elizabeth sat at the table, waiting. They neither ate, nor drank, nor talked—a rare occurrence for Plain folks. “I’m calling an ambulance,” Adam declared. “Is your cell phone charged up?” he asked Caleb.
“No, I don’t use it anymore.” Caleb’s healthy complexion faded to match Sarah’s pallor.
“Mine is charged. I’ll get it from my briefcase.” Eli pushed himself to his feet and hurried to the mudroom faster than he’d moved in years.
“The hospital?” asked Elizabeth, covering her face with her hands. “We should have called you sooner, when I realized she wasn’t getting better. I let Sarah talk me out of calling the doctor. She said she didn’t want to waste the money. This is my fault.”
Adam had no time to comfort the woman. He had to get EMTs to the Beachy’s before another minute passed. He had a bad feeling about Sarah’s future. And it had nothing to do with bed and breakfasts, or new cottages in the woods, or a trip down the aisle in a brand new wedding dress.
Sarah awoke for the first time without a throbbing pain in her head. It had seemed that whenever she opened her eyes, every part of her body ached. Not that she’d been awake much. Despite sleeping endlessly, she could only keep her eyes open for short periods of time. Thus, one day seemed no different from any other. Had she seen Adam earlier this morning or had that been last week? What about her parents? Mamm had brought some oatmeal cookies which had all disappeared, but she couldn’t remember eating a single one.
“Ah, I see you’re back with us!” A dark-haired nurse, wearing a bright smile, wheeled a cart with dozens of drawers into her room.
“I am.” Sarah tried to push herself into an upright position.
“Easy does it, Miss Beachy. You’re still very weak.” The nurse with a name badge that read “Peggy” pressed down a button on a remote control. The top half of the bed rotated forward, giving Sarah a better view of her surroundings.
“Dank—” she began and then switched to English. “Thank you, I mean.”
“Do you know where you are, Miss Beachy?” Nurse Peggy jammed a second pillow behind Sarah’s shoulders and pushed a tray with a pitcher and plastic cup in front of her.
“I’m in a hospital. And please call me Sarah.” With extreme effort she reached for the water. Her arm felt weighed down by twenty-five pound feed sacks.
“Correct. You’re in Timken Mercy Medical Center in Canton to be exact.” Peggy supported her elbow while she drank the glass of water.
When Sarah finished the cup, she burped rudely. “I beg your pardon.”
Nurse Peggy laughed. “Burp all you like. It’s good for you.”
“Do you suspect I have amnesia? Should I recite details about my home and family?” Sarah tried to refill the cup but spilled most of it onto the tray. Her hand wouldn’t cooperate with her brain.
The nurse wiped up the spill while replenishing the water, adept at doing two things simultaneously. “Not unless you want to. Memory loss isn’t usually a symptom of West Nile Virus. I was checking to make sure your fog had cleared.
Your high fever had put you out of commission for a while.”
“Nile, like the river in Egypt—that’s what I had?” Sarah blinked, her hand gripping the tray. “But I’ve never left Ohio.”
“I understand, but birds and insects often travel great distances. You were bitten by a mosquito that had bitten an infected bird.”
“How could a mosquito make me so sick?” Sarah rubbed her forehead.
“You would be surprised how much disease insects spread. But your doctor will be in soon if you have more questions. I’m here to dispense your meds. Don’t worry; you can’t spread the virus to other people.” Nurse Peggy placed a paper cup on the tray.
Sarah peered in at eight pills in various colors and sizes. “All these? What are they for?”
“Yep, every last one of them. Some are fever reducers, pain relievers, antinausea, antispasmodics, anti-inflammatories, and antibiotics. Now, down the hatch.” Peggy handed her the water.
Sarah swallowed a huge capsule and clutched the thin white blanket. “Will I be okay? I’m supposed to get married in a month or two.”
“You’re expected to make a complete recovery.” Peggy swept a lock of hair from Sarah’s forehead. “But you’ll be weak for some time to come. So the longer you can postpone putting on the white dress and strolling down the aisle, the better.”
“Blue,” she said, after swallowing two more pills.
“Excuse me?” The nurse glanced up from marking a chart with red pen.
“The wedding dress I’m sewing is blue.”
“Is that right?” The nurse studied Sarah over her half-moon glasses.
“I’m Amish. We don’t wear white gowns.”
“A person learns something new every day. I figured you were Amish or Mennonite, judging by the clothes worn by your visitors.”
“Have I had many?” Sarah finished the last of the pills. “Everything is sort of a blur.”