Adoring Addie (17 page)

Perhaps I was trying to distract myself, but I began searching the water, which was nearly pitch-dark now that the flashlights and cell phones had left with their owners.

God,
I prayed,
if only I can see their hats, even one of the hats, then I know everything will be okay.
It was a silly prayer, a “fleece,” some would call it, but it was the best I could do.

Just then a figure moved along the bank, headed downstream, a stick in his hand. He squatted and reached out, fishing out one straw hat and pulling it in. When he stood I realized it was George—with Jonathan's hat, since Mervin and Martin had both been wearing baseball caps.

George continued downstream, disappearing into the dark.

I turned then toward the group that remained, looking again for Timothy as two police officers climbed out of the car, its lights still flashing. They stopped a young Amishman
I didn't recognize, but he shook his head. They made their way around the group that had been pushed farther from Mervin by the fire fighters.

I pulled on Hannah, tugging her back more, away from the officers, but one of them headed straight toward us. He had a small notebook in his hand.

“What happened?” he asked.

“I was upstream,” I answered. “I didn't see it.” I felt sick to my stomach, sure the problem was Timothy.

“How about you?” the officer asked Hannah.

She leaned against me, nearly pushing me over.

“Miss,” the officer said, “are you all right?”

She was slumping, and her weight was nearly more than I could bear. I had no other choice but to wrap my arms around her and let her weight pull both of us to the ground.

Hannah's eyes remained opened and focused, but she wouldn't talk to me. She leaned against me as we both sat in the flattened grass, which was easier for her in her jeans than it was for me in my dress.

“Is she diabetic?” the officer asked, kneeling beside us. “Or epileptic?”

“No,” I answered, with my arms still around her. “I think she's just distraught.”

“Maybe a panic attack?” He stood.

“Jah.” I'd heard of those but had never seen one.

“Is she Amish?” he asked.

That stopped me a moment until it registered that in her Englisch clothes Hannah looked anything but Plain. “Jah,” I answered.

“Has she been drinking?” he asked.

“No,” I said. “She hasn't.” I couldn't smell anything on her breath, and I hadn't seen her take a beer earlier.

“I'll ask one of the EMTs to check her out,” the officer said. “Perhaps she should be transported too, along with the young man.”

I didn't know what good that would do. Once we knew Mervin would be okay, I was certain Hannah would be too.

“Can you find out how Mervin is doing?” I asked. “And let us know? That will help more than anything.”

He turned toward the group hovering around Mervin. Jonathan stood behind them, his head bowed, while Martin stood beside him with tears rolling down his face.

The officer said, “I'll see what I can do.”

As he walked away, I squeezed Hannah's shoulder. “It's going to be okay.” I hoped I'd told the truth.

A sob welled up inside of her and shook her whole body.

“We should pray,” I said.

Her head bobbed up and down as another sob shook her.

We both bowed our heads, saying our silent prayers. I asked God to please spare Mervin's life and heal him. And for peace between our families—between the Cramers and Mosiers. And that Hannah would be all right too. After a minute, I said amen and opened my eyes.

My cousin kept hers closed and leaned against me even more.

“Addie?” George knelt beside me with Jonathan's hat still in his hand. “Are you two okay?” Sadie, wearing a dress, apron, and Kapp, stood behind him.

“Jah, I'm okay.” I glanced toward the officer, who was talking to an EMT and pointing our direction. “But Hannah's having a hard time.”

Just then the other EMTs began transferring Mervin onto
a gurney. I stood quickly, pulling Hannah up with me, and George hopped up too. Hannah turned her back to what was going on, which was too bad because Mervin had a mask on his face and, although it looked scary, he seemed to be alive.

Two of the EMTs carried the gurney toward the ambulance, and the officer and the third EMT came toward us.

I pulled Hannah back around.

As the officer approached she said, “I'm o-o-kay.”

“Is he a friend of yours?” the EMT asked.

Hannah nodded, tears welling in her eyes.

The EMT stepped closer to Hannah. “He's breathing.”

I couldn't help but exhale in relief.

The EMT continued, “We'll transport him to the hospital, and they'll do a thorough exam. He has a bump on his head.”

“Do you know anything about that?” the officer interjected. “Did someone strike him?”

“I don't know,” Hannah whispered.

“You were with him though?” the officer persisted.

She nodded.

“But you didn't see what happened?” the officer asked.

She shook her head.

The officer turned toward George. “How about you?”

George put up his free hand and shook his head.

“Not a thing?” The officer crossed his arms and looked at Sadie. She shook her head too.

George nodded. “I had my back to the river when it all happened.”

The officer didn't respond for a long moment, as if hoping to draw more out of George.

Finally my brother said, “Sorry, Officer.”

The man let out a long sigh. “I've heard that more times than I can count,” he said, flipping through his little notebook
and looking down. “One person did mention someone named Timothy.” He looked up. “That he might be involved. Any of you know him?”

I glanced at George, whose face was blank.

“Jah,” I answered.

“Did you see him near the river tonight?” The officer made a sweeping motion with his free hand.

I looked around the diminishing crowd. “No.”

“Did you see him earlier?”

I nodded. I wasn't going to lie.

“When?”

“Well, at our house . . .”

The officer cocked his head.

“He's my brother,” I explained.

“Oh.”

“And then here, when we first arrived. Out by the cars.”

“But not before the incident.”

“I was upriver, like I said. But I heard him yelling . . .”

George stepped away from me as the officer jotted something down and then asked, “And what's your name, miss?”

“Addie,” I replied. “Addie Cramer.”

As he wrote that down, I realized George and Sadie were walking toward Molly, taking Hannah with them. I looked beyond them to the ambulance. Martin climbed into the passenger side as the EMTs loaded Mervin into the back. Jonathan stood off to the side.

The officer cleared his throat, and I focused on him again.

“Where do you live?”

I gave him our address, my heart sinking as I did, wondering how furious my family would be with me.

His eyes met mine. “Anything else you can tell me?”

I shook my head.

Then he nodded toward Hannah, “Does she have a ride?”

“Jah,” I answered. “I'll get her home.”

I motioned to George and Molly, who hurried over to us. “Sadie needs to get a ride with someone else,” I said to George. “You need to take Hannah and me to her house.”

George seemed grateful to have me take charge.

I turned to Molly. “You go with Jonathan in the car we all came in,” I said, as much as I hated to. “Stop and get Mervin and Martin's parents. Once you're at the hospital, call George on your cell as soon as you know how Mervin is. He can let Hannah know.”

Molly nodded in agreement as Jonathan started toward us. He stopped beside me. I reached for his hand and squeezed it and didn't let go. If George noticed he didn't let on.

“Molly's going with you,” I said to Jonathan.

He gave me a puzzled look.

“I need to go with Hannah,” I added.

He nodded then and tightened his grip on my hand, stepping closer to me until our shoulders touched and I could feel his soaking wet shirt through my sleeve and against my skin.

“Have you tried calling Timothy?” Jonathan asked George.

He shook his head.

“Someone should. The police will probably be after him.”

“Jah,” George said. “Addie ratted him out to the officer.”

I bristled. “I wasn't going to lie,” I said. “He would have found out who Timothy is eventually. And it's not like I saw anything.” I turned to Molly. “So what did happen?”

“Timothy chased him into the water—that's all I know for sure.” She flicked her hair over her shoulder. “There was some sort of a struggle, but it was too dark to see exactly what happened.”

Hannah sucked in a raggedy breath.

“We'd better go,” I said, letting go of Jonathan's hand. His eyes met mine for a moment.

“I need to find my purse.” Molly searched around, holding her cell tightly in her hand. She scurried over to a rock closer to the river.

George handed Jonathan his hat.

“Denki,” he said. “I thought it was a goner.”

“Jah,” George answered. Then he extended his hand, saying “Denki” as he did.

Jonathan clasped it as he continued to hold on to me with his other hand, and the two shook but neither said another word.

After a moment George stepped away and said to me, “Over this way.” He led us toward his pickup, away from the direction Jonathan and Molly headed.

As we walked along, Hannah between us, George said my name quietly.

“Jah?” I whispered back.

“I'm grateful to Jonathan—I can't imagine the heap of trouble we'd all be in if he hadn't saved Mervin—but don't think I didn't see you holding his hand.”

“Leave it be, George.” I kept my voice firm and quiet.

“There's already enough trouble without—”

Hannah sobbed again.

“—all of you acting like idiots,” I countered.

“I haven't done anything,” he said.

“Exactly,” I said. “If you'd stopped Timothy, Mervin wouldn't be on his way to the hospital now, would he.”

We sat with Hannah between us in the cab of George's truck. He kept bumping her leg as he shifted, making her whimper. As he wound his way over the country roads, he drove more cautiously, I was sure, than he or my other Bruders ever had.

“Stop here,” Hannah said, about a half mile from her house.

George glanced at me. I shrugged my shoulders, not sure what to do. “Why?” I cooed to Hannah.

“Until Molly calls.” She'd be calling George's phone, since neither Hannah nor I had one.

“That might be a long time,” I said.

“Then will you come in and wait with us at the house?” she asked George.

He pulled over to the side of the road. “Let's wait here.”

“Won't Aenti Pauline be worried?”

“She'll just think we stayed out late.”

George stopped the car.

“Are we all the way off the pavement?” I craned my neck, trying to see in the dark.

“Close enough,” George said, turning off the engine. He settled against the headrest.

“Is your ringer turned up?”

“Jah,” he answered.

Hannah snuggled closer to me. George sighed, and then his breathing changed, as if he'd fallen asleep already. I tried to stretch out my legs, but the cab was cramped with Hannah turned toward me.

A car's lights filled the back window and then zoomed by, going too quickly, I was sure. I must have dozed too, because I awoke to the jangle of George's cell.

Trying not to wake Hannah, I shook George's shoulder. “Your phone,” I said.

He stirred, then started shifting around as if looking for it. Finally he muttered, “Hello.”

Whoever had called was doing all the talking until George said, “Where are you?”

It definitely wasn't Molly.

“Jah, the police were asking about you—that's true.” George shifted in his seat and mouthed
Timothy
, as if I couldn't guess with that last piece of information, as he continued to listen.

Finally he said, “Molly's going to call and tell us how he is. I'll let you know.” Then he said good-bye.

“Where is he?” I asked.

“At the house.”

“At least we won't be there when the police arrive.”

“Jah,” George said. “Daed's going to be furious.”

“Did Timothy say what he did?”

“What do you mean?”

“How Mervin got hurt.” I was trying to keep my voice low, but Hannah stirred again.

“He said he must have hit his head on a rock.”

“Did Timothy push him though? That sort of thing.”

“He didn't say.”

And of course George didn't ask.

The cell phone rang again, and this time George answered it right away, and with “Hello, Molly.” I hadn't realized she was programmed into his phone—but then again she hadn't asked for his number. I was sure I was the only Youngie without a cell, besides Hannah.

George listened, saying jah a few times.

“Oh,” George said. “Betsy's there?”

I gasped. I'd forgotten all about Betsy.

After a moment he said, “Denki. I'll tell Addie. And Hannah—both of them—about Mervin. Bye, Molly.” George ended the call.

My cousin opened her eyes and sat straighter. “What did she say?”

“It seems like he's okay.”

Hannah began to cry.

“They're doing a whole bunch of tests though, just to be sure, and they won't have the results for a while. But he's conscious and talking. Molly hasn't seen him, but his parents have.”

I wondered if Jonathan had.

“It sounds like his Daed is angry with Timothy. And with our whole family. Jonathan's Daed is at the hospital too.”

Hannah started sobbing again. I glared at him.

“Ach, don't do that,” George said, patting Hannah's leg as he gave me a helpless look. “I shouldn't have said anything.”

I undid my apron and handed it to her to dry her eyes, but instead she buried her head in the fabric and sobbed more.

I almost asked if she wanted to change before we went
back to her house, but then I remembered that her bag was still in the car the twins had borrowed.

“What about Betsy?” I asked.

“Oh, jah,” George said. “She had a baby boy tonight. Molly ran into Cate and Pete. Cate left a message on our phone, but Molly thought we'd like to know sooner.”

“And Betsy's okay?”

George shrugged. “Jah. Why wouldn't she be?”

“Well, you know. Childbirth and all.”

He shook his head. “Women have babies every day.”

I sighed. Betsy and the Bobli were fine. That's what mattered. I couldn't imagine how excited Cate and Onkel Bob were. It had been so long since there had been a Bobli in that family—since Betsy. They had to be beside themselves.

“We should get going,” George said, turning on the engine. Behind us, lights filled the rear window again. This time the vehicle's horn blared as it sped by.

A few minutes later we turned into Aenti Pauline and Onkel Owen's driveway. George pulled up by the back door.

“Help me get her inside,” I said.

“Nah,” George answered. “You're on your own for this one.”

“Come on.”

He shook his head. “I'm going to stop by the folks' place and see Timothy. Hannah will be okay.”

Disappointed not to have his help, I opened the truck door, climbed out, and reached for Hannah's hand, pulling her along. She kept one hand on the apron, still holding it to her face. By the time we reached the door she was sobbing uncontrollably.

I gave George a pleading look, but he was turning the truck around, oblivious to us.

“We don't want to wake your parents,” I whispered as my brother sped away.

That only made her cry more loudly.

I wasn't sure if we should stay in the kitchen until she calmed down or hurry upstairs. Her Mamm and Daed's room was on the main floor, not too far from the staircase. “Hannah,” I cooed, hoping to distract her. “Do you need a drink of water? Something to eat?”

Her sobs grew louder.

“Take a deep breath,” I whispered. “Let's get you upstairs.” If we stayed down, her parents would be sure to hear her.

She did as I said, even lowering the apron. Her eyes were rimmed with red and had the same vacant look as they'd had down at the river.

“Come on.” I took her arm and we made our way through the kitchen to the hallway. At the end was the staircase. I hurried, pulling her along, sure we didn't have much more time until she began crying again. I breathed steadily, as I sometimes did with Joe-Joe, hoping she'd follow my example.

Once we reached the stairs, I pushed her forward to go first. She took the first couple just fine, but then she stumbled. I steadied her body—but could do nothing about her spirit. She began to cry again and then wail. She collapsed in a heap on the staircase, her forehead pressed against a wooden step.

“Hannah,” I coaxed, tugging on her.

It did no good.

A moment later a door opened. Another wail from Hannah blocked out any sound of footsteps, but I could imagine they were coming.

“Hannah?”

I turned toward my Aenti Pauline, standing at the bottom of the stairs in a long-sleeve white nightgown, her hair
hanging loose down her back. It was obvious, now, she was expecting.

“Addie, what's going on?” she asked.

Hannah stopped crying, but she didn't look up. It was as if she'd frozen in place.

“It's kind of a long story,” I answered.

“Have you two been drinking?”

“Oh no,” I said. “Of course not.” Suddenly I wondered if Hannah had other times though.

“Is Hannah all right?”

I shook my head. I'd been hoping she was, but I couldn't pretend anymore. She clearly wasn't.

It sounded as if Mervin was going to be okay, but I wasn't so sure about my cousin.

Aenti Pauline didn't say a word about Hannah's jeans and skimpy shirt, her uncovered head, or her strappy sandals. Instead she led her into the room Hannah shared with Deborah and Sarah and sat her down on Hannah's double bed. When Aenti Pauline lit the lamp, the younger girls woke up in their double bed, wide-eyed. Their mother shook her head and told them to go back to sleep. They both rolled toward the wall and didn't look our way again.

Aenti Pauline helped Hannah undress as I took a nightgown from the top drawer of her dresser.

“Hannah,” Aenti Pauline said. “I need you to talk to me.”

My cousin shook her head.

Aenti Pauline slipped the nightgown over her oldest daughter's head. I picked up her clothes and folded each item.

“Put them in the bottom drawer,” my Aenti said. Surprised,
I did as she said, thinking my mother probably would have burned them if they belonged to me.

Hannah allowed her mother to pull her to her feet, to let the nightgown fall down around her legs. Then Aenti Pauline pulled back the covers, plumped her pillow, and motioned for Hannah to lie down. She tucked her in then, kissing her on the forehead. “Addie will be in shortly,” she said.

Hannah closed her eyes and didn't respond.

I wasn't sure we should leave her, but Aenti Pauline motioned me to follow her, so I did, pulling the door shut behind me.

“What happened?” she whispered, leading me down the hall to the window at the far end.

I explained about the accident and the ambulance taking Mervin to the hospital.

There was enough moonlight that I knew Aenti Pauline was growing more concerned with each twist of the story.

“She started sobbing, uncontrollably. She stopped when a police officer came over with an EMT to check her out. She said she was fine. But then she started again. Then, even after we knew Mervin was better, right before George dropped us off, she started up again.” I searched my Aenti's face. “I'm sorry.”

“It's not your fault,” she answered. “And it's nothing new. The circumstances are—the accident and all—but she's been crying a lot. She's been inconsolable, some. We've been worried about her the last few months. The only time she seems happy is when she's riding her horse.”

I tilted my head. “So it's been more than just her feeling unsettled? Like what she told me when she came over last week?”

“Jah,” Aenti Pauline said. “We don't know what's going
on. I took her to the doctor, and everything checked out okay. He said to make sure she got plenty of sleep, exercise, and good food—and to come back if she didn't get better.”

“It looks like it's time to go back.”

Aenti Pauline nodded, her shoulders slumping. “I'll make an appointment on Monday.” Gravity seemed to be tugging at her face, her shoulders, and her swollen belly. Her mouth turned downward and her eyes weighed heavy.

“You should get to bed.” I touched her arm.

“Jah,” she answered. “You too.” She turned toward the staircase but then stopped. “Addie?”

“Jah.”

“Denki,” she said, facing me again. “For taking care of Hannah.”

“You're welcome.”

By the time I closed the door to the girls' bedroom, my Aenti's footsteps fell on the stairs.

I changed into my nightgown as quietly as I could and slipped into bed beside Hannah. She stirred in her sleep but didn't wake. Later during the night, with her back toward me, she whimpered, but I patted her as if she were Joe-Joe, and she settled back down and went to sleep.

Sometime after dawn, I opened my eyes to Aenti Pauline waking up Deborah and Sarah, but I immediately went back to sleep and didn't wake again until well past seven, alarmed. If we didn't hurry, we'd make the whole family late for church.

“Hannah.” I shook my cousin's shoulder. “We should get up.”

When she didn't respond I spoke louder. The third time I shook her a little harder.

Finally her eyes fluttered and she muttered something.

“What did you say?” I asked.

Her eyes closed again, her eyelids nearly translucent in the bright morning light, and she rolled over. When I shook her again she didn't respond.

I dressed quickly and hurried down the stairs, finding Aenti Pauline in the kitchen drying the breakfast dishes. Onkel Owen was sitting at the table, his big hands wrapped around his coffee mug, reading
The Budget
.

Aenti Pauline mouthed, “How is she?”

Sensing she didn't want her husband to know what was going on, I motioned toward the stairway.

“What's going on?” Onkel Owen asked.

“Hannah's not feeling well,” I said.

“'Course not. You two stayed out too late.”

“Jah,” I answered. “And I think we learned our lesson.”

Aenti Pauline put the towel on the hook and dried her hands on her apron. “It's not just that, Owen. You know she hasn't been well.”

“Then she shouldn't have gone out last night.”