Amish Promises (4 page)

 4 

W
hen Shani woke the next morning it took her a minute to remember they'd moved to the farm. It wasn't until she became aware of the quilt against her chin that she realized where they were. She patted the other side of the bed for Joel and then rose up on one elbow. He was gone.

She grabbed her robe from the end of the bed and hurried down the hall, past the row of boxes. He wasn't in the living room. She registered the smell of coffee.

He stood at the kitchen sink, a cup in one hand and his cane in the other.

“Good morning,” she said.

He turned toward her. He hadn't shaved, but he was dressed in sweatpants and a long-sleeved T-shirt. He raised his mug. “Coffee? It's decaf.”

She couldn't help but smile. He'd been worried about her caffeine intake even though she'd assured him a cup of regular each day wouldn't hurt the baby. “Thanks,” she said, pouring herself a cup. It was the first time he'd made coffee since he was home on furlough last April.

“Sorry about yesterday,” he mumbled.

“It's all right,” she answered, stepping to his side. She started
to put her head on his shoulder but thought that might put him off balance. Instead she reached up and stroked his scraggly chin. “Is Zane awake?”

“Yes, he's outside.”

She stepped to the window. “Already?” She hoped he wasn't spying on the neighbors again.

The day was overcast, but it wasn't raining. At least not at the moment. A ribbon of mist hung over the field though, the part she could see, and a breeze teased the tops of the trees. “I'll get dressed,” she said, “and go check on him.”

Joel nodded.

“Do you want your chair?” she called over her shoulder.

“No, I'm fine.”

She pulled on her maternity jeans and sweatshirt, brushed her teeth, and shook out her hair, scrunching the curls. She'd have to deal with it later. A muffled crash startled her.

“Joel!” she called out. She hurried into the kitchen—his mug was on the counter, but he was gone. She rushed into the living room. He wasn't there either, but the front door was ajar. When she reached the porch it took her a moment to realize what happened. But once she did, she scrambled down the steps.

Joel was at the bottom of the stairs, his injured leg turned under at an angle, his face twisted in pain.

“Call 9-1-1.” The words came out in a gasp. “I can't get up.”

She knelt down beside him, her heart jolting. As a nurse, she was confident about handling any emergency—unless it was someone she loved. She placed her hands on his shoulders, rolling him onto his back.

“No,” he gasped. “Just call!”

What had she done with her cell? She stumbled back up the steps and into the house, grabbing her purse from the floor under the front window. As she dug through it, she rushed back out.

She finally found the phone and flipped it open, hitting the nine and the one before she read the words on the screen.
No service
. Why hadn't she checked the night before?

She'd never guessed she wouldn't be able to get service at her grandfather's house. And the landline hadn't been installed yet.

“I'll call from the neighbors'.” She ran back into the house, yanked the quilt from their bed, and rushed back through the front door, pulling it shut behind her. She hurried down the stairs, doubled the quilt, and tucked it around Joel.

“I'll be right back,” she said.

“Hurry,” he groaned.

Once in the van, she swung it around and started back down the lane, driving too fast over the rutted road. She slowed when the first mailbox came into view and turned sharply. Ahead was a white house and behind it a huge barn, a shed, and a silo. All were well kept, nearly immaculate. When Shani saw the black pants, white shirts, and baby sleepers on the line she groaned. What was she thinking? It was the Amish place. Which probably meant no phone.

She started to turn around but then she saw the woman and the girl from the evening before climbing the back steps of the house.

Shani opened the van door as a light rain began. “I need to make a phone call. It's an emergency.”

“In the barn,” the woman responded. A smaller Amish girl, with braids sticking out from under her white bonnet, stood on the bottom step.

Shani turned off the engine and ran toward the barn. A man's voice came from inside, but he was speaking words she couldn't understand, another language—their German dialect, she was sure—then he called out sharply, “Simon!”

There was a sickening thud and then something that sounded like an object hitting a wall. She stopped, but then started up again as a massive man came staggering out of the open doorway, holding a boy in his arms. Behind him was Zane. When he saw Shani, he began to cry.

The man yelled something to the woman. The nurse in Shani took over and she swooped in, motioning the man to put the boy on the ground.

The boy's jaw was split and bleeding. She felt the back of his
head. There was no blood there—not on the outside anyway—but already a contusion was forming.

“Call 9-1-1,” she ordered, as she lowered her face to the boy's. “And ask for two ambulances. One for my husband—he fell and . . .” She didn't finish the sentence. The boy wasn't breathing. She checked his airway, positioned his head, feeling the sweat along his neck where his curls met his skin, and carefully breathed into his mouth, taking in his boy scent mixed with soil and rain. She checked for his pulse. Nothing.

The man stood statue still, but the woman passed the baby to the oldest girl and started running toward the barn.

Shani compressed the boy's chest, her hands covering his suspenders and white shirt. She did it again, keeping her thoughts on the boy.

She counted out loud to thirty. Then gave two breaths, followed by thirty more compressions, following the protocol for children.

Shani noted that the Amish woman had returned. “They're on their way,” she said in English. “Two ambulances.”

Shani nodded as she breathed out again. As she shifted back to the compressions, her eyes darted toward Zane, who stood a few feet away. “I didn't mean to,” he said, his chin trembling.

She couldn't stop to ask him what he was talking about, but her heart raced even faster. Was he responsible for the boy's injury?

Behind Zane, the four other Amish children huddled together, the oldest girl still holding the baby. The woman joined them. All were terror stricken and wide-eyed.

Shani shifted from the compressions to the two breaths again. As she shifted back to the compressions, she could see the father, frozen in place. He hadn't moved an inch—except his mouth, as if he were praying.

Shani felt for the boy's pulse a second time. It was faint. She began the compressions again with even more determination, continuing with her counting, silently chanting,
Live! Please live!
in between the numbers.

As she paused to take a deep breath she heard the wail of sirens.

 5 

E
ve drew her nieces and nephews close, taking Trudy from Lila, and Rose grabbed Eve's legs through her long skirt as the ambulances screamed down the lane. The rain came down harder now, and she tucked all the children in front of herself, hoping to shield them.

Tim stood frozen in place, his eyes never leaving Simon and the Englisch woman as the ambulances came to a halt. One of the paramedics hopped out.

She pointed to Simon, and called out. “We need help here. And a man is injured at the next farm also. He's by himself. Hurry.”

The man nodded, walked back to the second ambulance, and said something to the driver. The ambulance sped away without the siren. He then opened the back of the first vehicle. It seemed as if he moved in slow motion.

The driver stepped out of the cab and around to the back. A moment later both men appeared, carrying a yellow board and a box.

The Englisch woman kept pushing on Simon's chest and then blowing into his mouth, counting out loud as she did. Eve's own chest contracted.
Breathe, Simon. God, make him breathe,
she
prayed. Fear tightened her throat, and she swallowed, trying to stay calm for the children.

Life wasn't easy in the Lehman household as it was. How much could one family bear?

The paramedics reached Simon, and the Englisch woman spoke to them as she continued to push on the boy's chest. The first paramedic knelt down on the ground too, his back to Eve, blocking her view.

The Englisch woman stood and stepped away, her long auburn hair curling in the damp morning air. It wasn't until the woman placed one hand on the small of her back that Eve realized she was pregnant.

Lila began to tremble. “Is Simon dead?”

Daniel crossed his arms. “Don't ask that.”

Eve tightened her grip on the children. “He's going to be all right,” she said. “The woman—your mother,” she said to the Englisch boy who stood a few feet away, “she's been doing the right thing. And now those men will help too.” She hoped she was right—that Simon would be okay. It didn't look good, honestly. She took a deep breath. “They'll take him to the hospital, where the doctors and nurses will take care of him.”

The Englisch boy flicked his honey brown hair away from his eyes. “My mom's a nurse.”

“We thank God that she is.” Eve pulled her nieces and nephews closer, as if she could hug the boy and his mother too, with her gesture. “God sent her, to help us,” Eve added.

The boy turned and looked at Eve, his brown eyes heavy. “We're only here because my dad got his leg blown up in Iraq.” He swiped at his eyes. “I'm the one that scared the horse. I'm the reason”—he gestured toward Simon—“he got kicked.”

Tears stung Eve's eyes. She wasn't sure how to respond.

The boy crossed his arms and stared straight ahead. He had a strong build, a square chin, and an air of confidence about him even in his grief.

Daniel pulled away from the other children.

Eve exhaled. “Sometimes God allows things . . .” She stopped, thinking about Abra dying and leaving five children behind. She was sure that was what Daniel was thinking about now too. “Things we can't understand.”

Daniel darted toward Simon on the grass.

Lila took a step to follow her brother, calling out, “Stop!”

Eve pulled her back, whispering, “Hush.”

Daniel stopped when the paramedics lifted Simon onto the board.

Trudy began to fuss. Eve bounced her as best she could, still keeping her arm around the older girls. Lila's trembling had turned into violent shivering. Eve needed to get the children inside.

But then the group started toward the ambulance. The Englisch woman turned toward Tim, who still stood frozen, staring after Simon. “Come on,” she said. “You can ride with me.”

Tim stood with his hat in his hand, his hair wet from the rain and plastered to his head. Eve couldn't help but feel concern for what the bishop's response would be when he heard about the accident. Just last Sunday, after he'd preached on parenting, he'd warned Tim about not doting on Simon. He'd even said that if Tim continued to spoil the child, God would intervene. She shuddered.

When Tim still didn't budge, the woman grabbed his arm and pulled him along. Daniel stepped forward, but Tim didn't acknowledge him. Daniel started following them toward the ambulance, until the Englisch woman told Daniel to stay. He stopped but kept his eyes on Simon as the paramedics slid the board through the back door.

“Come on, Zane,” the Englisch woman said to her son, as she pushed her hair, now soaked, away from her face.

“He can stay here with us,” Eve blurted out. “If that would help.”

“Thank you,” she said, twisting her hair onto her head and securing it with a band that had been on her wrist. “But he needs to come with me.”

But the boy said, “I want to stay.”

A troubled look passed over the woman's face.

The Englisch woman looked toward the road, then back at the boy. “Are you sure?”

He nodded.

“I don't know when I'll be back.”

“We'll be here,” Eve said.

“All right . . .” the woman said. She started to walk away but then turned. “Our friend—Charlie—is coming soon to help us. I'll . . . I'll call when I have service and tell him to stop here for Zane.”

“All right,” Eve said and then nodded toward the van. “Go with the woman,” she said to Tim.

He turned toward her, a blank stare on his face.

Eve reached out her hand, touching his shoulder. “Go.”

Tim didn't respond but started walking again. She'd never seen him so helpless.

By the time he reached the ambulance, the Englisch woman was at her van.

“It's a code three,” the woman said. “They won't let you in the back with Simon. I'll drive you to the hospital, but we need to go now.”

The children and Eve watched the ambulance leave, the siren blaring again. The Englisch woman pulled in behind it, with Tim in the passenger seat. The other ambulance waited on the lane, it's siren off. The one with Simon in it took the lead.

The baby began to cry as Eve called out to Lila. “Grab the basket for the eggs. Daniel, you help.” The best way to stay calm was to focus on their work.

Lila hurried to the back door of the house, returning a moment later with the basket. She and Daniel hurried toward the coop.

“Come on,” Eve said to the Englisch boy.

“I'll help them.” He walked after the twins.

Eve jiggled the baby on her hip and led Rose to the house. “We're late for school,” Rose said.

Opening the door, Eve shook her head. “We'll miss today. Your teacher will understand.”

Rose didn't seem happy with that, but didn't say anything. Eve knew she couldn't fully comprehend what had happened.

A half hour later she had the baby in her high chair gnawing on a cracker, a stack of hotcakes ready to go, and slices of ham warming in the frying pan. Zane and Daniel stood in the kitchen while Lila set the table. The Englisch boy had hardly said a word.

“
Fleicht eah is dum
,” Daniel said to Lila.

Obviously the boy wasn't dumb—more likely he was in shock. Perhaps he should have gone with his mother. Eve, alarmed at her nephew's rudeness, said, “
Sil is net shee
,” she responded, commanding Daniel to be nice, and then because he needed to learn not to hide behind their Pennsylvania Dutch, she added,
“Un shwietz Englisch.
”

Zane turned his head toward her at the word
Englisch
.

Aiming to change the subject, Eve said, “Let's eat.” She called Rose in from the living room as she lifted the ham slices onto a plate with a fork. As everyone sat down, Lila put the hotcakes on the table. The boy reached for one.

“Wait,” Daniel said.

The boy froze.

“We say a blessing first,” Eve said. “A silent one.” She knew not all Englisch understood their tradition.

“Let's thank the Lord for the food and remember Simon and the Englisch man,” Daniel said, taking his role as the temporary head of the house seriously. They all bowed their heads. When they lifted them a minute later, the Englisch boy still had his bowed.

“Amen,” Eve said.

He looked up, a confused expression on his face. “That was weird.”

Daniel frowned and Eve shook her head at him. Still her nephew asked, “Don't you pray at home?”

“Well, yeah. Sometimes. But out loud. Not all quiet like.” As he speared a hotcake, the boy turned to Eve and asked, “What happened to my dad?”

“Your mother said he fell on the steps.”

The boy winced. “He was in the hospital and then rehab for three months.”

“I'm sorry,” Eve said.

The boy shrugged. Even sitting down, he was taller than the twins by several inches.

Lila leaned toward him across the table. “I'm sorry too. That had to have been hard on all of you.” She was the most sensitive of all the children.

The boy crossed his arms but his face softened some.

“How old are you?” Lila asked.

“Twelve. How about you?”

“Eleven.” She gestured toward her brother. “Daniel too.”

“Twins?”

Lila nodded.

“Cool.” The boy didn't smile but Lila did. Grief washed over Eve again. Lila was so much like her mother. Beautiful. Compassionate. Trusting.
Oh, Abra. If only you were here.