Mattie smiled at the young girls, envious of their energy as they began to hurl Queenie’s red Frisbee to each other while the dog raced back and forth between them—and then leaped into the air to intercept it. When Mattie saw the wistful expression on Mary Kate’s face, she followed the girl’s gaze to where Roman was squatting and stretching in front of the volleyball net—and Gloria was murmuring encouragement to him. Mattie patted the chair beside her. “Probably a gut idea for you to sit here,” she encouraged the bishop’s younger daughter.
“Jah, away from all that spiking and lobbing the boys are planning,” Mary Kate agreed. She settled into the chair and placed her hands on her rounded belly. “The way this wee one’s moving around, I wonder if he’s playing his own little game of volleyball.”
“That’s a gut sign your baby’s healthy.” Mattie leaned forward to focus on the formations the volleyball players had decided upon. “Looks like Eli, Amos, and Truman are blocking at the net while Lester, Floyd, and Marlin are ready to move up and keep the ball from hitting the ground.”
“Except for Noah and Roman, the boys’ team looks to be a little on the short side,” Christine murmured.
“But what they lack in height, they can make up for with speed,” Frances pointed out. “Just the fact that their legs are springier gives them an advantage—ah, and Harley’s stepping in to play on the boys’ side while Lowell acts as referee. That evens out the odds.”
“Oh my,” Beulah put in. “I hate to think about how sore I’d be for a week after playing one game of volleyball. Our men’ll be feeling muscles they’ve forgotten they had.”
“All right, here we go,” Lester announced from the back corner. He was several years younger than his brother Floyd, and he gracefully lobbed the ball over the net with an underhand serve. On the boys’ side, Harley moved forward to set the ball up for Noah, who passed it over the net—and Amos slapped it back with both his hands. Johnny Peterscheim rushed forward, but the ball went between his hands and bounced on the ground.
“First point,” Lowell announced, gesturing toward the older fellows.
Lester served again, and as the ball got volleyed back and forth Mattie enjoyed watching the setups and teamwork on both sides of the net. Some good-natured banter traveled with the ball, and it was fun to watch the boys rush around and dive to the ground to make dramatic saves while the men played more conservatively. Mattie’s gaze lingered on Amos as he jumped up to block the ball, or pivoted to watch the men behind him playing their positions as the ball bounced on their hands before he or Eli or Truman spiked it over the net to score.
Within minutes the men had scored five unanswered points. Lester served again. Harley Kurtz rushed toward the ball and hammered it back over the net with the backs of his fists.
“Ach! Help us,” Fannie cried out from across the lawn.
The men immediately looked over toward the girls, distracted by the plaintive sound of Fannie’s voice. When the volleyball hit the ground, the boys cheered. “Score one for us!” Menno hollered. “And it’s our turn to serve.”
Amos gazed across the lawn. “You girls all right?” he called out.
“Jah,” Lily replied, pointing toward the old storage shed. “The Frisbee went wild and landed on the roof. Can somebody please get it down for us?”
As the men murmured among themselves, Amos loped toward the shed, which was where they stored the fishing gear and other equipment. “Won’t take me but a minute to get the ladder and fetch that Frisbee,” he called back toward the volleyball players. “Then we older guys will show the young bucks what gut defense looks like!”
“Cookie break!” Johnny declared.
Mattie and Rosetta stood up to remove the covers from the cookie bins while the other folks chatted among themselves. When she glanced toward the shed, Amos was coming out with a tall wooden ladder, chatting with Fannie and Lily as he positioned it at the corner of the weathered old building. He adjusted the ladder so it was extended as far as it would go, resting against the very edge of the roof.
Mattie was relieved when Truman, Roman, and Bishop Floyd all started toward the shed. “Wait up, Amos,” Truman called over. “We’ll hold that ladder steady for you.”
Amos was already climbing, however, nimble as a monkey. Mattie marveled at how quickly he clambered up the last few rungs, spotted the red Frisbee, and then stretched himself full-length across the old shingled roof to retrieve Queenie’s toy with his fingertips. Was it her imagination, or was the corner of the building starting to droop? In a flash of dread, Mattie leapt from her chair. “Amos, watch out!” she cried.
“Hang on, Amos! The roof’s giving way!” Truman cried as he, Roman, and the bishop sprinted the last few yards toward the ladder.
For a split second Amos looked toward their voices—and then he lost his foothold when the entire corner of the old roof broke off. As the ladder pitched sideways, Amos floundered and then fell through the air. Mattie felt as though the whole scene was taking place in slow motion. Even though she was running toward the shed, hollering at the top of her lungs, she knew deep down that no one would be able to stop what would happen next. There were no bushes to break Amos’s fall, no way to catch—
Suddenly Bishop Floyd rushed forward with his arms extended. “Sweet Jesus, send Your mighty angels,” he cried out. “You’ve got to catch—”
Amos struck Floyd’s upper body and knocked the bishop to the ground with him. The men landed hard, both of them crying out. Floyd grabbed his head and rolled away to writhe in pain, but when Truman and Roman reached the two men, Amos wasn’t moving.
Mattie stopped, her heart in her throat. Her Amos lay flat on his back with his limbs splayed in various directions. He remained ominously still.
For a few seconds everyone stared in silent shock. Minerva and Frances rushed over from the volleyball net with Eli, Marlin, and the others close behind them. Mattie stood stunned, staring at Amos’s inert form as snippets of muffled conversation flew around her.
“He’s out cold,” one of the younger boys murmured.
“Maybe we’d better call a doctor—”
“No! Amos is strong and fit. He’ll come around,” Preacher Eli insisted.
“We don’t know any doctors hereabouts,” Frances pointed out as she and Minerva pressed their hands down on Floyd’s shoulders to keep him from standing up.
Truman and Roman were kneeling on either side of Amos, gently smacking his face to bring him around. He wasn’t responding.
“Rosetta! Somebody!” Truman called out above everyone’s comments. “Call 911. Amos and Floyd should both be checked for broken bones and head injuries.”
Rosetta ran toward the lodge, but Menno and Lavern raced past her, their faces tight with worry. Minerva stood up, shooing everyone back. “I’m no doctor, but I’ve got enough midwifing experience to know that we shouldn’t move Amos—and Floyd, you should sit tight,” she insisted. “Mattie and Frances, you might want to pack your men a bag before the ambulance comes. I suspect they’ll check both of them into the hospital for observation.”
“You’re not taking either one of us to the hospital!” Bishop Floyd protested with a grimace. “If you’ll give us a minute to catch our breath, we’ll be fine.”
Ignoring Floyd’s outburst, Mattie lingered for a hopeful moment, in case Amos blinked or spoke or grimaced.
Nothing. He was breathing, but otherwise he was lying far too still.
Not daring to think about what sort of damage might’ve been done when Amos fell from the roof—even with Floyd breaking his fall—Mattie hurried toward Amos’s house. She heard voices behind her and saw that Frances, Gloria, and Mary Kate were headed up the road toward their home.
“What on earth possessed your dat to catch Amos?” Frances asked in a flustered voice. “He’s going to pitch a fit about going to the hospital, but we’ve got to get him checked over. If he broke some blood vessels, or knocked his neck out of kilter—well, Minerva told me there c
ould be all manner of injuries we won’t know about without getting him checked over.”
Lord, this is so scary, Mattie prayed as she hurried up the steps to Amos’s place. Help me find what Amos will need. Help me not to panic so I can make the right decisions.
Because Mattie had helped unpack a lot of boxes when Amos had moved his belongings from the storage shed into his new home, she had an idea where his clothes and toiletries were. She moved as quickly as she could, yet she had the sensation of slogging through suspended time and deep mud, feeling woefully slow. By the time she tucked some pajamas and a change of clothing into a duffle, she heard the distant wail of a siren.
Mattie felt frightened half out of her mind. What if Amos didn’t regain consciousness—or if he did, what if he’d suffered the sort of head and neck injuries Frances had mentioned? How could it be that her Amos, so fit and agile, was lying unresponsive on the ground? She hadn’t seen a flicker of his eyelids or the slightest motion in his arms and legs.
What if he’s paralyzed? Mattie fretted as she hurried out the door with Amos’s duffle. What if he’ll never be able to work again—and all because of a freak accident while fetching a Frisbee?
Stop it! another voice in her head warned. Thinking the worst will make you crazy. Truman was right to call the ambulance so both men will get the best care.
A police car sped under the arched entry sign to Promise Lodge, followed by a fire truck and an ambulance, which made Queenie bark frantically as she ran around the yard. Mattie stopped in her tracks, her pulse pounding. So many blaring sirens and flashing lights—so many emergency vehicles—surely must mean the responders had figured on the worst-case scenario. Her hand fluttered to her hammering heart as she watched uniformed officers, firefighters, and paramedics rushing toward the cluster of men who stood near the shed. Mattie was grateful that the sirens had stopped wailing—and that Noah had silenced his dog—so she could think again.
“My word, it’s like the lodge and all our houses were burning to the ground,” Frances murmured, clutching a small suitcase as she came to stand beside Mattie. Gloria and Mary Kate seemed so intently focused on the throbbing, flashing lights that they couldn’t speak.
Mattie gripped the handle of the duffle in both hands, trying to hold on to rational thought. “I’m so grateful that Truman’s talking to the emergency crew and knows what to do,” she said, shaking her head. “As fast as they’re bringing out those stretchers, we should get over there with these clothes.”
Mustering her courage, Mattie walked quickly toward the scene of the accident. How could those men who were strapping Amos and Floyd to stretchers work so calmly and efficiently? Didn’t they realize that the leadership of this church district—the lives of two vitally important men—were at stake?
When Truman noticed Mattie and Frances, he loped over to meet them. “You ladies need to talk to the ambulance guys. They’ve got some questions I can’t answer.”
Mattie shared a startled gaze with Frances. She hurried toward the team of medical workers who surrounded Amos while Frances went to tend her husband. “What do you need to know?” she asked in a tremulous voice. “Amos’s kids are married and living out of state—”
“Is he allergic to any medications?” the taller fellow asked in an efficient tone.
“Does he have any health problems, like diabetes or a heart condition?” his partner asked. “And do you know what medications he’s taking?”
Mattie’s head spun. “Amos is as healthy as a horse—or at least he was until he and Floyd hit the ground,” she replied. “Far as pills, he’s not even inclined to take an aspirin when he’s got a headache, so—”
“Does he have a DNR? Or a living will?”
Mattie went blank. She stared at Truman for help, but he appeared as mystified as she was. “I—I don’t know what that means.”
“DNR stands for ‘do not resuscitate,’” the first man explained. “A living will is a written document that states a person’s wishes about life support, if his heart stops beating or he stops breathing.”
Oh, dear Lord, please don’t let Amos die! Mattie prayed frantically. How could these ambulance fellows ask so casually about such life-and-death situations?
Truman shook his head. “Amos is Amish. We Plain folks don’t believe in keeping folks alive on machines, if that’s what you mean.”
The paramedics nodded and raised Amos’s stretcher so it looked like a padded table with metal legs and wheels. “The ambulance is going to be full, what with both men riding in it,” the taller fellow said, “but it would be helpful if you folks could follow us to the hospital in Forest Grove.” With a renewed sense of urgency, they rolled Amos across the yard and into the waiting ambulance.
Mattie’s hand fluttered to her mouth and she looked the other way. This was all so foreign to her, and so frightening.
As the other emergency workers wheeled Floyd into the ambulance, Frances rushed over to Mattie and Truman. “What are we supposed to do?” she wailed, suddenly overcome with tears. “Floyd will fight them every step of the way if they try to check him into the hospital.”
“Why did so many rescue workers come?” Gloria whimpered. “You’d think the earth had opened up and tried to swallow us—”
Truman quickly slung his arms around Mattie and Frances, lowering his voice as he addressed the women and Frances’s two wide-eyed daughters. “From what I heard when somebody called 911 on one of my landscaping jobs, it’s standard procedure to send the police and a fire truck along with the ambulance,” he explained gently. “How about if I give you ladies a ride to the hospital? The emergency room folks will appreciate your help when they admit Amos and Floyd.”
Mattie nodded numbly. “Jah, somebody should be there because—because Amos can’t speak for himself,” she replied in a halting voice.
“It might be best if you girls stayed here until we know for sure what’s going on,” Truman continued, fishing his keys from his pocket. “I’ll be with your mamm the whole time we’re there, all right?”
Mary Kate and Gloria glanced doubtfully at their mother, but when Frances started toward Truman’s pickup, they nodded. Gloria looked almost relieved that she didn’t have to go—a sentiment Mattie certainly understood.
“Denki so much for your help, Truman,” Mattie murmured as he took her elbow and started toward his truck. “I couldn’t handle this without you.”
Chapter Eight
As everyone watched the ambulance pull away with a surge of its siren and its lights pulsing, Roman felt a deep, desperate silence settle over the folks gathered near Rainbow Lake. For a few moments after the police car and the fire engine left, they all listened to the wail of the siren as it gradually faded away down the county highway.
Without warning, Gloria threw herself at Roman and wrapped her arms around his waist. “What’ll we do without Dat?” she wailed. “What if he’s hurt so bad he can’t come home? How am I supposed to stay in that house with both of my parents gone, not knowing what’s happening to them?”
Roman gingerly put his arms around Gloria. “He’ll get the best of care,” he insisted, hoping his statement would prove to be true. “With Truman and your mamm—and my mamm—there, the hospital staff will have the information they need—”
“But what about me? And—and Mary Kate, of course,” Gloria added after a moment. “I won’t be able to sleep a wink without a man in the house, so maybe—”
“You girls are welcome to bunk in one of the lodge rooms,” Rosetta said as she came up beside Roman. “We’re all in this together, Gloria. You’ll never be alone.”
Roman glanced gratefully at his aunt and loosened his arms, hoping Gloria would take the hint. As he caught Mary Kate’s gaze from a few yards away, he felt embarrassed that her sister had made such a scene—and in front of all the neighbors, too. Did Mary Kate realize that he hadn’t given Gloria any encouragement? It was totally improper, the way Gloria had implied that she wanted Roman to come
to the Lehman place, where the two sisters would be home alone.
Rosetta squeezed Gloria’s shoulder, easing her away from Roman to steer her toward her sister. “Are you all right, Mary Kate?” Rosetta asked. “It was a shock to us all, what happened to your dat and Preacher Amos in the blink of an eye. If you need to sit down, or you want me to take you over to a room at the lodge—”
“I’m okay,” Mary Kate replied. Her voice wasn’t as chipper as usual, but she appeared to be in control of her emotions. “I don’t want to leave Sugar and Spice alone all night, and they’ll be gut company. Denki for asking.”
“I believe we should all take a moment to pray for Amos and Floyd,” Preacher Marlin said above the crowd’s murmurs. “And then I think we should go ahead and eat our meal—”
“Jah, we’ve got all these fish fillets that can’t go back in the freezer,” Christine put in. “And we’ll find comfort in eating together, holding up our prayers for our injured men, and for Mattie, Truman, and Frances as they watch over them.”
“Exactly right,” Preacher Eli joined in. “Shall we bow our heads?”
Roman closed his eyes in prayer, glad for the chance to avoid Gloria’s gaze. He prayed for Amos and his mother, and for Bishop Floyd, and for the rest of the Lehman family, feeling the sense of oneness and purpose these group prayers inspired. In his mind, he saw Mary Kate’s gentle smile.
Give her Your strength and wisdom, Lord, as she wonders about her dat . . . and about her unborn child.
When one of the men cleared his throat, the folks around Roman began to move. The women headed toward the table and the coolers, while Preacher Eli and Preacher Marlin set fire to the woodpile.
Harley walked over to where Irene Wickey was pouring oil into Truman’s big fish fryer. “If you’ll show me how to work the controls, I can be the fry cook,” he offered.
“That would be dandy,” Irene replied as she reached for a large bottle of oil. “And Rosetta, that bin under the table is full of the coating mix. If somebody stirs up the egg and milk mixture, we can set up an assembly line.”
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