Daniel moved off to a group of men. Leah stood, stretching a little, and Anna came to take her place on the plastic chair next to Myra. Someone offered coffee. Samuel waited. Prayed.
Finally the door opened. This time it was a doctor, a surgical mask hanging loose around his neck. He looked a bit startled by all the people there, gazing from one to the other.
Myra rose, Samuel and Anna standing with her. “My husband . . .” she began, and her voice wavered.
“Mrs. Beiler.” The doctor looked relieved to have her identified. “Perhaps you should come out into the hall to talk.”
“Komm, Myra.” Samuel reached for her, but Anna already had her arm around Myra’s waist. Together they walked through the door with her, Elias Beiler following them.
The door swung shut, cutting them off from their people, but not from their support. He could still feel them there, hoping and praying. Myra clutched Anna’s hand. They’d grown close in the short time since Anna had returned.
“He’s come through the surgery very well,” the doctor said quickly, as if not wanting them to imagine anything else. “His vital signs are good, and he should be regaining consciousness soon.”
“Can we see him now?” Elias asked, as if he couldn’t believe his son was all right until he saw for himself.
“He’s still in recovery now, but I’ll have a nurse come for you as soon as you can see him.”
Myra nodded, tears welling in her eyes. Samuel could tell that she hadn’t caught much more than that Joseph was alive.
The doctor started to turn away. Surely there was more they should know . . .
“How extensive was the surgery?” Anna’s crisp voice had the doctor turning back to them. “What exactly are his injuries?”
Again surprise marked the doctor’s face. Had he not expected intelligent questions from them?
“The head injuries aren’t severe. He has a concussion. There’s some damage to his left eye, but we believe it will heal in time. He’s very bruised, so don’t be alarmed by that when you see him.”
Anna nodded. “What else?” She clearly didn’t intend to let him get away until they’d heard everything. Her years in the English world had taught her something of persistence, it seemed.
“The injuries to his chest were more serious. Several broken ribs, a punctured lung.”
Myra sagged a bit at that, leaning against Anna’s shoulder.
“He will be all right in time?” Samuel put the question he knew was in Myra’s mind.
“He has a long recuperation in front of him, but he’s young and strong. I don’t see any reason why he shouldn’t get back to normal, given time.”
Elias put his hand against the wall, relief coming over his face.
“Denke.” Myra’s voice was little more than a faint murmur.
The doctor nodded. Then he walked briskly away.
Myra wiped at her tears with the palm of her hand, the way she had as a tiny child, and the gesture tugged at Samuel’s heart.
“He’s going to be fine,” Anna said. “You see, Myra. Everything will be all right.”
All right, in time. Samuel’s mind spun with the changes it would mean for all of them until Joseph was well again. The shop, the horses, Myra’s pregnancy . . .
Myra murmured something to Anna, their heads close together. She’d grown to depend on Anna so quickly, he thought again. It was gut, surely, to have Anna there at the house with all that the future held.
Except that Anna might not be the best person to depend upon. She might do exactly what she’d done before—she might run away.
Anna
slipped out of Joseph’s hospital room. With all the rejoicing going on, she wouldn’t be missed. After nearly a week’s stay in the hospital, Joseph would be coming home tomorrow.
Myra had seemed a different person when she heard the news. She couldn’t be happy until she had him home with her, to spoil and care for.
Thank you, Lord
. Anna murmured the silent prayer as she hurried into the elevator and pushed the button for the lobby.
For days she’d been looking for an opportunity to call her friend Liz in Chicago, but that normally simple task had proved unexpectedly difficult. Phone booths seemed to be a thing of the past now that everyone had cell phones. Everyone but the Amish, of course.
However, she’d spotted a lone pay phone in a hall off the hospital lobby. She could call her friend, find out what she needed to know, and be done in time to meet Rosemary, Myra’s English neighbor, in the lobby for the ride home.
Rosemary had been a huge help with rides over the past week. The church members had taken over everything else that needed to be done, but that they couldn’t do.
The woman intrigued Anna. Childless, with a husband who traveled for work much of the time, Rosemary nevertheless didn’t have a job. That fact had certainly worked out to the family’s benefit this week.
Anna started down the hall at a quick pace, saw the woman at the reception desk glance up at her in surprise, and slowed down. That was something else to get used to. There was seldom a reason to hurry in Amish life, unlike the frantic pace of her routine in Chicago.
Her luck was in—the pay phone wasn’t in use. She dug out a huge handful of coins and stacked them on the ledge. Now, if only Liz wasn’t working the lunch shift . . .
The phone rang four times, and then the machine picked up. Anna bit her lip in frustration. When would she have another opportunity to call?
“Liz, this is Anna. Annie. I’m sorry to miss you—”
“Annie!” Liz picked up, cutting off her message. “Is it really you? Girl, I’ve been worried. Why haven’t you called? Is Gracie all right? Where are you?”
It took a second to get back into the rhythm of Liz’s rapid-fire questions. The last one Anna certainly didn’t intend to answer.
“I’m fine. Gracie’s fine. I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner, but there hasn’t been a chance.”
“Nonsense.”
Liz’s sharp-tongued retort was typical. When Anna had first gone to work at the restaurant, she’d been more than a little scared of the woman. Liz had been a server at Antonio’s for as long as the restaurant had been in business, and she didn’t put up with slackers or sass.
Since Anna had worked hard and kept her mouth shut, Liz had had no complaint. She’d proved herself to be a true friend during the rough times.
“I’ve thought about you often, but things have been complicated.”
Liz couldn’t know how complicated. How good it would be to sit in Liz’s cozy living room right now, feet up, eating popcorn and watching an old movie on television. That had been their favorite evening in, since Anna couldn’t afford a babysitter and a trip to the movie theater.
“You can always find time to pick up the phone,” Liz said, but there was affection under the tart words. “You sure that baby’s okay?”
“She’s doing great. Trying to walk, babbling all the time. She likes it here.”
“So where is here? You haven’t told me yet where you are.”
Liz always came to the point. Anna didn’t want to lie—probably couldn’t lie. Liz knew her about as well as Leah did. Maybe better, in some ways.
“It’s best if you don’t know. Then you won’t have to lie if Pete asks you.”
“I don’t mind lying to Pete,” Liz said easily. “But maybe you’re right, at that. If I don’t know, I can’t make a slip. And Pete’s been making a pest of himself.”
Anna’s stomach tightened. She’d been telling herself that Pete would have given up by now, but she knew that underneath, she’d been afraid of this. “What did he do? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”
“He did not. He knows I’d see his sorry self in jail before he could count to three if he laid a finger on me. Honest, sweetie, that’s what you should have done instead of running away.”
“Maybe so.” But she wasn’t like Liz. For all the bravado she’d shown when she left home, she had an innate reluctance to make a fuss, to draw attention to herself, and above all, to go to the law.
Amish didn’t go to the law to solve their problems. If they were harassed too much to ignore, they’d move on rather than fight.
“Well, it was your choice. If you need money—”
“No, nothing like that.” Anna knew perfectly well that Liz had little to spare. “I just want to know what Pete’s been up to.”
“Hanging out around the restaurant, ’til Antonio got fed up and threatened to call the cops. That made him back off, but he’s talked to everyone you know, trying to find out where you’ve gone.”
Her heart sank. “I hoped he’d forgotten about us. Maybe he really does care about Gracie.”
“Well, he had a funny way of showing it if he did.” Liz had a core of solid common sense, and it showed. “Knocking Jannie around the way he did, and then cutting out on her when she needed him the most. You take my word for it—this is just a whim. He thinks he wants the baby because he can’t have her. That’s Pete all over, always wanting what he can’t have.”
“I hope you’re right.” Prayed she was right.
Pete’s sudden interest in Gracie was the one twist Anna had never expected. He’d signed the relinquishment papers giving up his parental rights before Gracie was born, doing it with a sneer and a cutting comment. Why did he have to come back?
Anna rubbed her forehead tiredly. She’d better wind this up before she ran out of coins.
“I wouldn’t worry too much,” Liz said. “He’s either going to lose interest because it’s too much work to go on looking, or he’s going to end up in jail again for dealing. Either way, you don’t need to be afraid of him.”
“I’ll try not to. Thanks, Liz. I hate to cut this short, but my ride’s probably waiting for me.”
“You kiss that baby for me, okay? And call me again when you can. And Annie? Don’t worry. It’s bad for you. Gives you wrinkles.”
“Okay, okay,” she said, laughing a little in spite of herself. “I’ll call you again when I can.”
She hung up but sat for a moment, pressing her fingers against her forehead, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. It had been so good to hear Liz’s no-nonsense tones and even better to feel the sturdy affection that lay behind the words.
But the news Liz had delivered hadn’t been what Anna had hoped. She’d longed to hear that Pete had disappeared back into the underworld he usually inhabited, and had lost interest as soon as she was gone, but apparently that wasn’t the case.
She straightened, scolding herself. She couldn’t give in to discouragement. She and Gracie were safe here. Besides, Myra and Joseph needed her. She couldn’t desert them now.
The only trouble was that the longer she stayed, the harder it would be on everyone when she left.
Well, she’d deal with that when she had to. She rose, turned, and saw Samuel leaning against the wall opposite her.
Her temper flared. “Were you listening in on my phone call?”
He pushed himself away from the wall, no shadow of returning anger in his face. “It’s not my business who you call, Anna. I was looking for you because Rosemary is waiting.”
She’d almost rather he snapped back at her, instead of being so reasonable. “Sorry.” She bit off the word and started back down the hall.
He fell into step beside her. “I tried to stay in touch with my English friends when I came back. But it just didn’t work.”
“Why not?”
He shrugged. “I guess we didn’t understand each other’s lives anymore. We didn’t have anything to say to each other.”
“That won’t happen with Liz. We’re too close for that.”
He pushed the door open, holding it for her. “I hope you’re right, if that’s what you want. But maybe in the long run you’ll drift apart. That doesn’t mean the friendship wasn’t strong, just that it was time for it to end.”
In the long run she wouldn’t be here. She might not be lying outright about that, but with every word, every thought, she was deceiving people. She’d thought it wouldn’t matter, as long as Gracie was safe, but it did.
“I
just want to go over the records for the shop.” Joseph tried to push himself up from the rocking chair in which he’d been settled. He grimaced in pain, and Anna helped Myra ease him gently back down.
“I’ll get the books, all right?” That was the last thing Anna thought Joseph should be doing after the exhausting day he’d had coming home from the hospital, but he’d reached the point of irrationality.
She exchanged glances with Myra and saw that her sister-in-law was thinking exactly what she was. If Joseph were a cranky toddler, they’d put him to bed no matter how he objected.
Daadi, sitting in the rocker across the room, cleared his throat. When Anna looked at him, he nodded slightly.
All right, she’d get the books. She headed out the back door, pausing on the porch step to listen to the stillness.
Dusk had settled over the farm, easing away the day’s work, telling them it was time for rest. It reminded her of the story-book she’d read to Sarah and Gracie when she’d settled them in bed, all about the mother creatures of the farm putting their babies to sleep.
Thank goodness the rest of the family, except for Daadi, had finally gone home. They’d meant well, she supposed, gathering around to share the happiness that Joseph had left the hospital at last. But she’d seen the pain and exhaustion on his face.
She walked across the lawn, frowning when she realized that the shop door stood open, framing a rectangle of light from a lamp.
Samuel must still be there.
She stopped in the doorway. “Samuel, you are working late.”
“Ach, not working exactly.” His hand was arrested on the point of extinguishing the battery-powered lamp that stood on the workbench. “Just clearing up a little. What brings you out here?”
“Joseph. He won’t settle down and go to bed. He wants to look at the records.”
“He thinks I won’t keep up with the paperwork, that’s all.” Samuel grinned, shaking his head. “And he’d be right about that. But should Joseph be taxing his eyes with figures?”