They could both relax now. There’d be little enough traffic on this back road.
He glanced at Anna. She’d been quiet while he’d negotiated the busy road around the fairground, but he’d caught a glimpse of her hand gripping the side rail. Now she patted the sleeping baby in her lap, her face tilted down.
“Did you enjoy the fair?” he asked, wanting to break the silence.
She nodded. “Gracie loved seeing all the animals up close. And that sausage sandwich we had was definitely overload.”
He grinned, relieved to hear her sounding normal. “Too bad you didn’t have room for one more caramel apple.”
“Ach, don’t remind me.” She patted her stomach.
“Well, you have to eat the thing that means fair to you.”
She sobered, glancing at him. “It bothered you when I wanted to talk with Shelley. I’m sorry.”
That was a little more plain speaking than he’d expected from her, and it took him a moment to reply. “It wasn’t exactly how I’d pictured our day at the fair together. For a second I wondered if you’d set that up.”
She looked up at him, eyes wide. “I didn’t.”
“No, I know that. I could tell you were surprised to see an old friend there.”
But her eagerness to talk to the English woman had made him stop and think about where he was going with this interest in Anna. Since his own return, he’d avoided showing attention to any woman, fearing his own character.
And if he did think about committing to someone, it needed to be an Amish woman who was strong in her own faith. He could hardly say that about Anna.
She pressed her lips together, making him wonder what she was thinking.
“Shelley and I are not friends anymore,” she said finally.
He nodded. “That happens.” He’d predicted that, in fact, but he didn’t think she’d believed him.
She shook her head. “She and the others . . . it seems as if they’re just kids playing at being grown-ups. Waiting to start their real lives. I can’t believe I wanted to be like them.”
He clucked to Blackie, who had taken advantage of his distraction to slow down. “It’s not so odd. Most of us go through a time of wanting the freedom our English friends have.” He suspected that her concern ran deeper than that, though.
Her eyes were shadowed. “I’m not sure that they ever were my friends.” A car went by, sending out a spray of loose gravel, and she seemed to wince.
“Maybe, maybe not.” He wouldn’t say things just to make her feel better. “Sometimes English kids want to hang around with the Amish just for kicks. To make fun of them, like. But I’m thinking you had other English friends who were real, like Gracie’s birth mammi.”
Anna’s smile flickered, chasing some of the shadows from her eyes. “That’s true enough, but I didn’t think to hear you say it.”
“Ach, I don’t discount the value of friends, even with folks who are very different. Take that horse of Mr. Bartlett’s, for instance.”
“The horse?” Her eyebrows lifted. “Now you’re comparing me to a horse?”
He grinned, glad to see the liveliness coming back into her face. “Now, just hear me out. That animal was nervous as a cat at first, kicking at the stall bars, knocking over his water pail, making a nuisance of himself every time he was in the barn. So I got the loan of a goat from Aaron Zook.”
“A goat.” Her lips were twitching.
“Ja, a goat. Don’t you make fun of me now, Anna Beiler. Those two animals got to be friends in no time at all, though they’re as different as can be. Calmed that nervy horse down in no time flat, that goat did.”
“So I get to be either a horse or a goat, do I?”
“Ach, you’re definitely the horse, if you must be one or the other. Strong and high-spirited, but a mite uneasy in a new place.”
“This isn’t a new place—” She stopped, her head swiveling as a car roared up behind them.
He didn’t bother to look around, concentrating on keeping his hands steady on the lines. The driver gave a loud blast on the horn, and the car swerved around them. Blackie, used to motor vehicles, flicked an ear at it, nothing more.
Samuel turned to Anna, but a casual comment died on his lips. Her face was dead white, her lips trembling, and she clutched the child fiercely against her breast.
“Stop—please stop. I have to get down. I have to!”
The hysteria in her voice sent a shock through him. “It’s all right, Anna. They didn’t hit us.”
A farm lane led off to the right through a grove of trees. He turned Blackie into it and off onto the grass, then brought the buggy to a halt. He let the lines drop, knowing Blackie would be content to stand there indefinitely.
“Anna—” But before he could get out more than her name, she slid down from the buggy, carrying the baby. She rushed a few steps away and stopped, her shoulders shaking.
He jumped to the ground and went to her, approaching as slow and easy as if she were a wild creature. “Anna?” He reached out gently to touch her arm. “Was ist letz? What’s wrong?”
She was trembling. A wave of caring had him putting his arm around her before he thought that she might not like it. But she didn’t pull away.
“Was ist letz?” he said again. “That car passing so close—did that frighten you? Blackie is used to traffic.”
She shook her head. “The accident.” Her voice choked on the words.
Easy, he cautioned himself. Take it slow. “The accident,” he repeated. “The one you were in with those English kids.”
She nodded, head down, pressing her cheek against the head of the sleeping child. “I know what happened. They told me when I woke up in the hospital. But I never really remembered it.”
“You had a head injury.” He’d gone to the hospital once, like most of the community. And he’d helped out with Joseph’s work, freeing him to see to his family. “Sometimes people don’t remember.”
“That’s what the doctors said. That probably I’d never remember. But today, when I was talking to Shelley, a little of it flashed into my mind. And just now . . .” She stopped, as if she couldn’t go on.
“When that car raced around us, it made you remember.” He patted her shoulder, wishing he could take the pain away.
“I was driving. Jarrod said he’d teach me. They kept telling me to go faster, laughing, saying there was nothing on the road.”
Her words seemed to gain momentum as she spoke, as if she couldn’t get them out fast enough.
“It was exciting, racing through the dark, seeing the road curving ahead in the headlights. When I saw the orange triangle, the buggy, I was going too fast. I tried to swerve, tried to brake, but it was too late. I hit them.”
“Ja.” What could he do but agree? “Thank the gut Lord no one was badly hurt.”
“It was my fault. I did it.” Her eyes darkened with pain. “There was a family in that buggy. A mother holding her child.” She held Gracie even closer. “I could have killed them. They must have been so afraid. How could I not remember that?”
“Maybe God knew that you needed time before you remembered,” he said gently. “We can’t understand His ways.”
“I did that to them,” she said again. “Afterward, when Leah tried to talk to me about it, all I found to say was that it wasn’t so bad. That other people had done worse. How could I have dismissed it like that? What kind of person am I?”
“Anna, stop.” He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. “If you see now that you did wrong, then that needs confessing and mending. But you’re not that heedless girl anymore, are you?”
She took a breath, and it seemed to him that she steadied under his hands.
“No,” she said softly. “I’m not.”
“You’re not,” he agreed. “You’re a woman grown, and you’ve had your share of pain. It’s made you strong—strong enough to handle this, too.”
Her eyes filled with tears, but they didn’t spill over. She nodded.
His own heart was full, and he knew that he was past the point of choosing whether he had feelings for Anna. Wise or not, he did.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Anna
could only be thankful that the trip to the medical clinic was by car, not by horse and buggy. Daad had arranged for Ben Morgan, an elderly Englischer who enjoyed driving the Amish, to take her and Myra today.
Not that she wouldn’t eventually have to get back on the road in a buggy, but after what had happened the day before on the way home from the fair, she was glad it didn’t have to be today.
How had that happened? She still didn’t quite understand how she could suddenly remember so vividly after all that time had passed. It was as if a closed door in her mind opened, and the memories and emotions had come exploding out.
Samuel had been unfortunate enough to be in the way.
She had been the lucky one—lucky that he was there. For someone who didn’t talk a great deal, Samuel had a gift for saying the right thing.
She glanced at Myra. Her sister-in-law sat quietly, hands folded in her lap, looking down. She was apprehensive, of course, about what awaited them at the clinic.
Doubt assailed her. Maybe Myra would be better off to have someone else with her. Leah had volunteered at the clinic, after all. She knew the people there, knew far more than Anna about genetic diseases.
But Myra had asked her, and so she was here, praying she could be what Myra needed today.
Praying even more fervently that all she’d have to do was help Myra celebrate good news.
Still, the very fact that Myra had to go in for an appointment seemed ominous to her. Good news might easily have come in a letter. It was usually bad news that had to be delivered in person.
“Here we are, ladies,” Ben said, with a cheerfulness that didn’t quite ring true. He’d undoubtedly figured out that this wasn’t a routine visit. He drew the car up under a tree on the edge of the gravel parking lot. “I’ll sit here in the shade. I brought my book, and I’m in no hurry at all.”
“Denke, Ben.” Anna slid out of the car and then realized that Myra hadn’t moved. She sat frozen, staring at the front door of the clinic.
Anna’s heart missed a beat.
Please, Father, guide me. Help her.
She walked quickly around the car, opened the door, and took Myra’s hand. “Komm, Myra. It’s time for your appointment.”
Myra just gazed at her for a moment, her eyes wide and frightened. Then she got out, moving as stiffly as a very old woman, and let Anna lead her up the front steps.
Once in the center hall, she guided Myra to a seat in the waiting room. The clinic, she knew, was on the right side of the building, while the labs and research facilities were on the left.
Leah had talked about the volunteer work she did for the researchers, helping to record the family trees of Amish families affected by genetic diseases. Would Joseph and Myra be joining that list?
“Sit down, Myra.” Anna settled her on one of the plastic chairs that lined the wall. “I will tell them you’re here.”
The woman behind the reception desk heard the name and checked it off on the form. “If you’ll have a seat, Dr. Brandenmyer will see you in a few minutes.”
Anna nodded and returned to Myra, taking the seat next to her. She put her hand over Myra’s clasped ones.
“It will be all right,” she said softly. “You’ll know soon.”
Myra let out a soft moan. “If something is wrong with the baby, what will we do?”
If Anna closed her eyes, she could hear Jannie asking the same question. But it hadn’t been the baby with a problem. It had been Jannie.
She took a shaky breath. She’d been worrying about how Myra would cope if the news was bad. Maybe she should be concerned about herself, too. Could she be strong in a similar situation yet again?
“Mrs. Beiler?” The door beside the reception desk had opened. The man who stood there was tall and lean, with graying hair and an eager, youthful smile. He approached them, holding out his hand. “I’m Dr. Brandenmyer. You’re Leah Glick’s sister-in-law, I understand.”
“Ja.” Myra seemed to thaw under his friendly smile. “This is Leah’s sister, Anna Beiler.”
The smile was turned on her. “It’s so nice to meet you. We think very highly of Leah around here.”
“It is good to meet you, Dr. Brandenmyer.” That friendly smile had been accompanied by a look so piercing that it seemed he could see right through her.
“Just come along with me, will you please?” He went striding back through the door, and they had to hurry to keep up with him.
He led the way to a room that looked more like someone’s private study than an exam room. He gestured them to a pair of padded chairs, picked up a folder from the desk, and then drew up a chair facing them.
He didn’t put the desk between them, she noticed. Some of Jannie’s doctors had seemed to take refuge doing that.
“You’ve come here for the results of your amnio, so I won’t keep you waiting.” His hand rested on the manila folder on his lap, but he didn’t open it.
Myra nodded. Her hand went out to clasp Anna’s, and Anna held on tight.
“I’m sorry to have to tell you that it looks as if your baby has Down’s syndrome.”
Myra sucked in a strangled breath. “Are you sure?”
“We can’t tell one hundred percent, of course, but yes, I’m sure. I’m very sorry.”
“Denke,” Myra whispered.
Anna put her arm around Myra’s shoulders, pain like a knot in her chest. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “So sorry.”
Myra nodded, her grip on Anna’s hand wrenching.
“This is never good news, of course,” Dr. Brandenmyer said. “We’re more fortunate now than we used to be, because we’re able to detect it early. It is a little unusual in a woman as young as you are.”
Anna realized he was studying Myra’s face as he talked, gauging how she was dealing with the news. He’d probably been in this situation more times than he could count, but there was no mistaking the compassion in his eyes.
“I have some reading material for you that will help you understand.” He flipped open the folder and took out several small booklets, which he held out. Myra didn’t move, so Anna took them.