by Price, Sarah
It took almost fifteen minutes before she moaned and rolled her head on the pillow. She barely fluttered her eyes but she reached out a hand and took her husband’s in hers. She didn’t awaken but she was responding.
Outside, in the kitchen, the police were clambering about, demanding to call an ambulance. Menno heard them and immediately lifted his eyes to stare at Rachel. “Nee! No ambulance! I want to tend to my wife myself.”
“Menno,” Rachel said softly. “What if she is ill? What if she needs medical care?”
“Nee!” He stared back into the face of his young wife. “I will care for her. Here, in our home.”
Miriam stepped forward and placed a hand on Menno’s shoulder. “What if she had smoke inhalation? What if she suffered burns?”
Menno almost sobbed at the words. He shook his head but couldn’t speak. The relief that he felt at finding Mary Ruth alive was so overwhelming that he could barely think straight.
“And the kinner,” Miriam reminded him. “She will need time to recover. If you truly love her…” Miriam did not finish the sentence but let Menno fill in the blanks for himself.
She was so beautiful, her hair hanging down her shoulder from where it had fallen from her bun. Her prayer kapp was gone and her face was covered in soot. Even her dress was smudged with blackness. Yet, there was a peaceful look about her face. In that moment, Menno knew that she would live and he knew that he would prove his love to her. But, in order to do that, she had to get well.
“Fine,” he finally said. “Call the ambulance then. But I want to go with her.”
“You should be here for the kinner in the morning. They’ll need to hear about this from you. Get them off to school and then come to the hospital,” Rachel said gently, not wanting to upset Menno more than he already was. “If neither of you are here in the morning, they’ll be most concerned, ja?”
Reluctantly, he agreed but looked up at Rachel. “You will stay with her? I want her to know why I’m not there if she wakes up. I want her to know that I will be there as soon as possible.”
“Of course, Menno,” Rachel agreed. “I won’t leave her side.”
Within five minutes, the ambulance had arrived and Menno watched, his heart sick as his precious wife was taken away on a cold, metal gurney, covered with a white sheet and gray blanket. There were no words to express the grief that he felt as he stood on the porch, oblivious to the cold, and watched the ambulance speed away to Lancaster General Hospital, with only Rachel to accompany and comfort Mary Ruth.
“What do you mean Mary Ruth is at the hospital?” Katie asked, her eyes big and wide, frightened at the news that her mother was sharing with her before breakfast. “Is she sick?”
“Nee,” Anna said, shaking her head.
“What happened?”
Anna sighed and handed her daughter the plates to set the table. “The barn caught fire and she must have tried to free the cows.”
The color drained from Katie’s face. She stood in the kitchen, holding the plates in her hands but she did not move. “Did she get burned?”
“Nee, nothing like that, Dochder. But the doctors wanted to see her, to make certain she wasn’t ill from the smoke,” Anna explained.
“Is she going to be all right?”
Anna nodded her head. “Ja, right as rain, I imagine. Now, no more questions. You need to get ready for school. I’ll know more when you return home.”
Reluctantly, Katie stopped herself from asking any more questions, although a dozen were popping into her head. She wondered how the fire had started. She wondered if the barn was destroyed. She wondered if Melvin had been scared. Still, she could tell that her mother wasn’t in the mood for answering more questions. Clearly, she’d have to wait until she returned home to learn more about what had happened.
Menno had not slept at all. After everyone had departed, it had been time to tend to the cows. However, he didn’t know what to do with them. He accepted Ben Miller’s offer to keep the cows at his farm, the same place where Katie’s pony was boarded. Jonah and Ben had left the house and herded the remaining cows over the pasture and toward the Millers’ barn, leaving Menno at his home to address the children when they awoke.
The previous evening, the girls had slept through the commotion, their bedrooms being in the back of the house. Melvin, however, had awoken and stumbled to the top of the stairs, wondering what was going on. Thankfully, Leah had redirected him to his room and sat with him for a while. No one had mentioned anything, either about the barn having burned down or about Mary Ruth having gone missing.
Now, Menno was faced with that grim task.
He paced the floor of the kitchen, trying to think of the best way to tell the kinner about the barn fire and Mary Ruth. He knew that it would open old wounds, too fresh from when their mamm had died last summer. He didn’t want to alarm them, that was the most important thing.
Melvin was the first one to come downstairs, his hair a mess and sleep still in his eyes. He mumbled a greeting to his daed and looked around for Mary Ruth. The table wasn’t set. There was no food cooking on the stove. And, as he smelled the air, the only odor was burnt wood.
“Where’s Mary Ruth?” he asked, rubbing at his eyes.
“Son,” Menno started. “Don’t you remember last night?”
He shook his head. Then, something dawned on him. “Why aren’t you in the barn, Daed?”
“There was a fire last night, Melvin,” Menno started to explain.
Melvin’s eyes flew open and he stared around the house, confused. “A fire? Here?”
“The barn burned down.” Menno gestured toward the table and watched as Melvin quickly sat down, but not before he glanced out the kitchen window. His son gasped and turned to stare at his father as he slid onto the bench. “Mary Ruth was taken to the hospital.”
A look of alarm immediately crossed Melvin’s face. He started to jump up but Menno placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “What? Is she going to die?”
“Nee, nee,” Menno reassured him. He had expected such a reaction from his son, especially after having just lost his mamm the previous summer. It was the very reason everyone had insisted that Menno remain at home to inform the kinner. “It was just a precaution. She’s going to be right fine, Melvin.”
But Melvin didn’t look like he believed his father. “Why was she out there?”
Menno gave a simple shrug of his shoulders. That is the question, he wanted to say. Instead, he said, “We don’t know yet. But they found a lantern that they believe caused it. Something happened and the lantern fell, shattering and catching the hay by the back room. We lost a few cows but it seems Mary Ruth managed to free a good number of them.”
A dark shadow passed over Melvin’s face and he lowered his eyes to the floor.
“Now, don’t you fret none,” Menno said gently. “I’m going over to Miller’s after I get you kinner set off to school to tend to the cows, and then I have a car coming to take me to the hospital. I might not be back after you return from school but, I’m counting on you to keep the girls away from the barn.” The last thing Menno needed was for something to fall and injure one of the kinner. By the weekend, Menno would be in a better position to assess what might be salvaged, if anything, from the wreckage.
It was Wednesday afternoon when Mimi heard the news. Her mouth fell open and she could hardly believe her ears. Steve had driven over to tell her what happened at the Yoder’s farm and to let her know that Mary Ruth was going to be fine.
“What happened?” Mimi gasped after Steve told the story.
He shrugged. “She’s still sleeping. But Daed and Mamm came back before dinner with the news that she’s going to be fine. She did have smoke inhalation and needs to be on oxygen until she awakens.”
“Oh Steve!” Mimi rested her hand on his chest and let him pull her into her arms. “How frightfully scary!”
“Ssh,” he soothed. Barn fires were especially unnerving. It happened frequently, especi
ally among the young farmers. Quite often, if the hay hadn’t dried properly before being stored in the barns, it could eventually smolder and catch on fire. But to have something happen to Menno Yoder? He was a seasoned farmer with enough experience that, certainly, it wasn’t the hay igniting that had caused the barn to burn. “It’s going to be all right.”
Mimi wasn’t so certain. “How is Menno?”
“Distraught,” Steve admitted. “I think he’s in shock.”
“I imagine so,” Mimi said, pressing her cheek against Steve’s chest.
Mimi could hardly imagine how Menno had felt when he returned home to discover that Mary Ruth was missing and no one could find her. It would be a terribly upsetting situation, an emotional upheaval for certain. And then, to have discovered that she had crawled from the burning barn to seek shelter in the old pump house? Mimi shuddered at what would have happened if Menno had not looked for her. It could have been another day or more until she was discovered and, by then, she would have died for certain.
“Mamm and Daed think she’ll be released from the hospital by the weekend,” Steve said. “She’s going to go back to Mamm’s to recover.”
At his words, he felt Mimi stiffen in his arms. She pulled back and looked up at her husband, the concern for Mary Ruth that had previously been in her eyes now vanished. “Why?”
“She’s going to need time to regain her strength,” he responded. “And, with all the kinner at Menno’s home, it’s best if she spends some time with Mamm who can tend her to her without too much noise or distraction.”
Mimi took a sharp breath of air, a harsh look in her eyes. “Why can’t Menno tend to his wife?”
Steve stared at her, surprised by her lack of empathy. What was this about? “Mimi, if you were ill, wouldn’t you prefer to be with your Mamm?”
Pursing her lips, Mimi narrowed her eyes. Her expression had changed and now she looked angry. Her reaction startled him, especially when she said, “I’d prefer to be with my husband, Steve.”
“Is this about Mary Ruth or about you, Mimi?”
Mimi turned around and walked to the kitchen counter. She placed her hands on the edge of the sink and stared outside. Steve waited, watching her back as she breathed deeply and refused to answer. The clock on the wall chimed two times and he glanced at it. He had to leave soon to get back in time to milk the cows. But he certainly didn’t want to leave with his wife so upset.
Lifting his hand to his head, he ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. “Look Mimi,” he started as he took a step toward her. “I know you are unhappy that we are not living together yet. I will work harder to finish the grossdaadihaus. Give me another week and I can have the main room ready. I promise.” He placed his hands on her shoulders and, gently, turned her around. He stared into her face and smiled. “By next weekend, ja? That’s not so long, is it?”
“What about this weekend?”
Steve frowned. “This weekend?”
“Will we be together?”
He hadn’t thought about that. Surely it would be too much of a burden to add one more person to his mamm’s household, especially since Mary Ruth would be there and require a lot of attention. “I’ll come for dinner both nights,” he said slowly, knowing that it would be a hard stretch for him to do so. “And we can attend church together on Sunday.”
Her face fell. “So that’s no, isn’t it?”
“It’s one week, Mimi.”
“Ja, one week,” she snapped back.
He frowned, not believing that they were having an argument over this. He was disappointed in Mimi’s reaction and lack of understanding. He expected more from the happy, bubbly woman he had married. “I best get going,” he mumbled.
“You’re going to leave?”
He didn’t respond but turned to retrieve his hat. As he started to put it on his head, he felt her hand on his arm. She clutched at him and pulled, trying to stop him from leaving.
“Please don’t go,” she pleaded. “I’m sorry, Steve. I’m ever so, so sorry!” She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him. “I just love you so much and miss you when we are apart.”
He hesitated before he accepted her apology, acknowledging it by putting his arms around her and holding her. “I know, Mimi,” he replied, his voice low and in her ear. “I miss you, too. But other couples have survived the same and for a longer duration of time, ain’t so? You can manage for one more week. I’ll spend every free minute on that room so that we can move in and start living our lives together.”
Leaning down, he pressed his lips against her forehead before extracting himself from her embrace. “Now, I must be going, Mimi,” he said, tilting her chin so that she was staring into his face. “You be strong and I’ll be back on Friday evening after milking, ja?”
Obediently, she nodded her head.
He smiled. “That’s my girl,” he whispered and leaned down to kiss her lips before walking out the door to settle his bill with her father and take the supplies back to the farm. He had a long few days ahead of him if he was going to keep his promise to Mimi. Long days and short nights, that was for sure and certain.
It was almost two-thirty when Menno finally arrived at the hospital. Feeling out of his element, he hesitantly approached the information desk to inquire about the location of Mary Ruth’s room. The elderly woman at the large oak desk typed something into the computer before she smiled and looked up, directing him to the elevators and telling him that Mary Ruth was on the third floor.
His heart raced as he waited for the elevator and he found himself tapping his fingers against the side of his leg. He wondered if she’d be awake or still sleeping. He hoped that she would be awake for he had so much to tell her. He wanted her to know how he had felt when he thought she was gone. He needed her to know how much he loved her and, despite how she must feel about him, he wanted her to be his true wife and to love him back.
Rachel was seated by Mary Ruth’s bedside. He stood in the doorway, hat in hand, staring at his wife as she slept. She looked peaceful, her hair hanging down one shoulder in a long, loose wave. She wore a white floral hospital gown that was open at the shoulder. There was one bouquet of flowers on the window ledge: white carnations. He wondered who might have sent them.
“Menno!” Rachel looked up and smiled when he cleared his throat and walked into the room.
“How is she?”
“Better. She was up for a little while about an hour ago but the doctors wanted her to sleep some more. Gave her some medicine for her pain and I do believe it knocked her right out again,” Rachel replied.
“Pain?”
“Her head. Appears that she was knocked out when she stepped on a pitchfork in the barn. It hit her in the face,” she said and pointed to Mary Ruth’s forehead. “See the bump?”
Menno approached the bed and leaned over, gazing first into Mary Ruth’s face and then staring at her forehead. “Ja, I sure do see it,” he whispered. A pitchfork? He saw it all now. Someone had left a pitchfork on the ground. She must have stepped on it and fallen. Perhaps when she fell, she had knocked down the lantern.
But who would leave a pitchfork on the ground?
“She was asking for you,” Rachel said, her voice soft and her eyes glowing at Menno.
He looked up, surprised. After the way they had not been speaking for so long, that was the last thing he expected to hear. “She was?”
“Ja, first thing she asked was where you were,” Rachel added.
He couldn’t imagine that he would be first on her mind when she had awoken. Yet, the thought that he had not been there caused him a moment of grief. He should have gotten there earlier, he scolded himself.
Rachel sensed his thoughts and quickly added, “I told her that I made you stay at home with the kinner. That they couldn’t wake up alone or with a stranger to tell them the news. She understood and was relieved to know that they were tended.”
A look of relief washed over Menno
’s face. “Danke, Rachel.”
“Gown shanner,” she replied, still smiling. There was something sparkling about Rachel’s expression, as if she had a secret that delighted her. “I told her that it was you, Menno, who searched for her and found her. She didn’t remember any of it, just the pitchfork incident. She doesn’t remember how she managed to get some of the cows free or how she left the barn.” Rachel stood up and gestured toward the chair. “Mayhaps you could sit with her for a while? I want to stretch my legs a spell.”
Menno waited until Rachel had left before he sat down. He wanted to be alone before he prayed for his wife, even if she was in a deep sleep. Clearing his throat, he moved the chair closer to the bed. It felt strange to see the vivacious and feisty Mary Ruth so still. He had never watched her while she slept for he was too upset by the way their marriage had started and what he had perceived to be her repulsion of him. Now, leaning forward, he reached out to hold Mary Ruth’s hand, so small and smooth in his large, calloused one. His thumb caressed her skin and he stared into her face, hoping against hope that she might wake up and know that he was beside her.
He sighed and rested his forehead against the side railing of the bed. Silently, he prayed to God, thanking Him for having saved Mary Ruth. When he was finished praying, Menno opened his eyes and, to his surprise, he saw Mary Ruth watching him.
“You’re awake!”
Her eyelids fluttered, heavy with drowsiness. “Menno…” she whispered, her voice raspy and strained.
He clung to her hand, staring into her face as tears threatened to spill from the corners of his eyes. “Mary Ruth, I was so sick with grief at the thought of losing you!”
She tried to open her eyes. “Menno…” she repeated herself.
“Don’t speak, Mary Ruth. Save your strength, please,” he implored. “We need you better and I need you home. I can’t bear the thought of you not being there.”