Leah's Choice (31 page)

“You’ve slept enough,” Leah said briskly, pushing the button to elevate the head of the bed. “The nurses say you should be getting up more now. You need to get your strength back.”

“I don’t want to.” Her eyes snapped open, and she frowned at Leah. “Where’s Mamm?”

“Home, getting some rest, I hope.”

Anna had grace enough to look a little embarrassed at the reminder. “Is she all right?”

“As all right as she can be under the circumstances.” They both knew that Mamm was troubled by more than Anna’s being hurt.

Anna’s fingers pleated the edge of the sheet. “What about—what about the other people in the accident? How are they?”

It was the first time Anna had seemed willing to have a real conversation about what had happened. That was a good sign, surely.

“The Esch family is fine, they say. Just some bumps and bruises. Daad is making arrangements to have their buggy fixed.”

Anna smoothed out the pleats. “And the others?”

“Your English friends were not badly hurt. They’ve all gone home from the hospital.”

“Have any of them come to see me?”

“No.” Better the plain truth than soft evasions. None of the English teens who’d been with her that night had come to see her.

“They—they want to. I know that.”

Leah couldn’t say the words that trembled on her lips about the kind of friends who had led Anna into such trouble and then left her there. That would only make her sister more defensive.

“Maybe so,” she said, her tone neutral. “Everyone from the church has been here, though, at one time or another. And brought food to the house, and took over the chores for Daad and Levi so they could be here.”

Anna nodded, head down.

Leah felt exasperation mixed with the love she had for her sister. “Anna, why did you do it? Did the others talk you into driving that car?”

“Nobody talked me into it.” She stared at Leah, her face set. “I wanted to. It’s not so bad. I’ll bet the boys drove cars lots of times.”

“If they did, at least they never had an accident. That buggy—” Her throat tightened. “Anna, don’t you see how dangerous it was? If you’d hit the buggy full on, that family would be having a funeral right now. You of all people should know what to watch out for.”

Anna’s lips trembled, and her eyes filled with tears. “I didn’t mean to drive too fast. The car just went so easy when I touched the pedal. All of a sudden I saw the reflector on the buggy, coming up so fast. I swerved to avoid it, Leah. I did.”

In that instant she was Leah’s baby sister again. Leah bent over the bed, putting her arms around Anna in a fierce hug. “I know. I know you’re sorry for what you did.”

For an instant Anna clung to her. Then she stiffened and pulled away.

“Well—I’m sorry they got hurt. But I bet lots of people have accidents when they’re learning to drive.”

In other words, she wasn’t sorry about driving the car. Leah grasped the bed railing. “You’re not lots of people, Anna. You’re Amish. We don’t drive cars.”

Anna didn’t respond. She averted her face, staring out the window.

The closeness Leah had felt with her sister disappeared as quickly as leaves blown by the wind. With her face set and averted, in her print hospital gown, Anna looked like a stranger.

Leah should talk to her. Should try to impress on her how wrong she’d been, how much trouble she might be in.

She looked at the sister she no longer seemed to know. Would anything she said reach her? Or was it too late?

With
Anna taking refuge in sleep again, Leah headed for the elevator. Maybe a cup of hot coffee and a few minutes out of the hospital room would ease some of the tension.

She rounded the corner and came to a stop. John Kile stepped off the elevator. He carried a tissue-wrapped bunch of flowers in one hand.

“I know.” He smiled with a touch of regret. “You’re going to say that it’s not a good idea for me to visit Anna.”

“No. I was just going to say that I’m surprised to see you here. But it is kind of you.” Her throat choked with tears. What was wrong with her that she allowed simple gestures of kindness to affect her so? “I’m sorry—” The rest of the words wouldn’t come out, not without tears, in any event.

John grasped her elbow and piloted her through the nearest door. It was the same meditation room where Daniel had brought her for refuge. John took her to the nearest bench. The same bench.

He sat down next to her, laying the flowers aside and taking both her hands in his. “Don’t take it so hard. Please, Leah. I know Anna is your baby sister, but she’s not your responsibility.”

For a moment she just took comfort from the gentleness of his touch and the caring that was obvious in his voice. Then the words penetrated, and she shook her head.

“That’s what makes her my responsibility, no matter how old she is.” Her voice might be wavering a little, but she was sure. She looked at Johnny, the tears wet on her cheeks. “Don’t you know that?”

He blinked. “I didn’t mean—Well, of course you love her and want to take care of her. But Anna’s eighteen now. You have to let her make her own choices.”

Part of what he said was right. But part of it was wrong. Anna was and would always be her baby sister, and she could never stop trying to protect her and take care of her. That was what siblings did.

If she said that to him, it would be the same as telling him that he’d let his sister down, and she couldn’t do that, not when he and Rachel were just beginning to restore their relationship.

He seemed to take her silence for agreement. “You’ll see. She’ll come out of this a stronger, better person.”

Anna needed to come out of it a humbled, repentant person, but Johnny had gone far from that Amish viewpoint, it seemed.

He stroked her hands gently. “Leah, I didn’t really come here because of Anna. You must know that. I came because of you.”

“Because you’re my friend.”

“Because I have feelings for you.” His grip tightened, and he leaned toward her, face intent. “Maybe the timing’s bad, but I can’t hold this back any longer. I still care about you. I knew that the minute I saw you again. We were always meant to be together. You know that, don’t you?”

She could only stare at him, her mind spinning hopelessly out of control.

“You feel the same way, I know you do.” He sounded exactly like the young, impetuous Johnny of ten years ago. “I was going to give it more time, but I can’t. Dr. Brandenmyer has offered me a two-year contract, and I have to give him an answer. I know you wouldn’t want to stay here, but we can go away together. We can get married, you can go to school, we can travel—we can do all the things you’ve always just dreamed about.”

The spinning stopped. Certainty pooled in her heart and mind. Somehow, in these past difficult days, she’d come to know where she belonged. She knew the place to which God had called her.

Maybe Johnny understood before she even spoke, because the eagerness faded from his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she said gently. “I’m sorry.”

Anger flashed in his face. “You’re still afraid.”

How could she explain it so that he would understand? It was so clear to her now.

“I’m not afraid. I’m just sure.”

“Is there someone else? Is that why?” He drew his hands away.

Sorrow was a weight on her heart. There might have been, but Daniel had made that impossible.

“No. At least, not the way you mean.” Words weren’t enough for this, but they were all she had. “You told me that I wasn’t doing enough for the children I teach, but you’re wrong. I’m not teaching them just by the subjects they learn. I’m teaching them by my life and my actions.”

“You can’t live your life for other people’s kids. You deserve more.”

“There is nothing more than this.” She shook her head. “I am being a part of the community where no single piece is more important than any other. What anyone does affects everyone, especially the children.”

He sat with his face averted, like Anna had.

“Johnny, I’m not blaming you for the choice you made.” She wanted to comfort him, as she would one of the children. “I just know that if I left, ripples would spread out from that action, affecting so many lives. You were right, in a way. I suppose at some level I was thinking about what the English world would be like, the way a child wonders what it would be like to be a bird. But I couldn’t leave. I would be lost if I did.”

“I’d take care of you.” But there was no confidence in his words.

“I know you’d try.” She took a breath, feeling the peace that settled into her. “I’m sorry I’ve never been able to give you what you want. Ten years ago I refused to go with you out of fear. But now—now the answer is the same, but the reason is different. I can’t go, because I know where I belong. It’s here.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Leah
would never have imagined that she’d be dreading see ing her baby sister. But as she walked down the hospital corridor the next day, she realized that
dread
was exactly the right word for what she felt.

She’d spent the night praying for Anna and praying for guidance. Her newfound peace about who she was and what God intended for her life didn’t seem to extend to her relationship with the sister she loved.

To that, there didn’t seem to be an answer.

Leah pushed the door to Anna’s room open. She froze, fingers gripping the edge of the door. The room was empty, the bed stripped, the cards and flowers Anna had received gone.

She forced herself to cross the room to the small closet. The dress, cape, shoes, and kapp she’d brought yesterday in anticipation of Anna coming home soon were still here. Only Anna was gone.

The door swished behind her, and she whirled. The smile died on her face when she saw it was one of the nurses, a plump, comfortable, middle-aged woman in blue print scrubs.

“My sister.” She nearly stammered the words. “Where is she?”

The woman’s gaze slid away from hers. “She’s gone. She checked herself out of the hospital first thing this morning.”

“Gone!” Leah’s mind spun dizzyingly. “How can she be gone? Where did she go? We were told that we might be able to take her home tomorrow.”

“The doctor wanted her to stay another day, but she was very insistent.” Faint sympathy crossed the woman’s face. “Your sister is eighteen. Legally she’s an adult, and she could check herself out.”

Leah gripped the bottom rail of the bed. “But where did she go?”

“I’m sorry. I’m afraid I can’t give out any information without the patient’s permission.” The nurse looked as if the sorrow was genuine—surely that was pity in her face.

Leah took a breath, trying to calm herself, trying to frame the words that would convince the woman to tell her where Anna was. “Please—she’s my baby sister. You have to tell me where she is.”

She shook her head, lips pressed together as if she wanted to speak but couldn’t.

“She was still so weak. How could you just let her walk away?” Leah tried to keep her voice steady, but it wobbled despite her best efforts.

The nurse glanced behind her at the closed door and then turned back to Leah.

“We wouldn’t let her walk, of course. I took her out myself in a wheelchair, and her young man brought his car right up to the sidewalk and helped her in. They drove away together.”

The woman looked at her meaningfully. Leah’s hands clenched. The English boy. Of course. For a moment her mind was blank, and then it came to her, as clearly as if she heard Anna speaking.

Jarrod,
Anna had said.
His name is Jarrod Wells.

“Thank you.” Her eyes filled with tears as she pressed the woman’s hand.

The nurse gave her a quick hug. “Don’t thank me,” she said. “I didn’t tell you a thing.”

 

 

 

“This
is it.” Ben Morgan, who’d come at once when Leah called from the hospital, pulled to a stop in front of a large, elegant home set back from the street in a suburban neighborhood. He patted Leah’s shoulder as she started to slide from the car. “I’ll wait for you. Good luck.”

She nodded. Murmuring a silent prayer for guidance, she started up the walk.

She felt—small, she supposed. Out of place. Surely every one of these fancy homes looked in disdain at the sight of a Plain woman disrupting the modern style of their neighborhood.

She rang the doorbell, half expecting Anna or the boy to come. But when the door opened, she found herself facing a woman who must surely be the boy’s mother, even though her carefully styled blonde hair and flawless makeup made her look too young to be the parent of a boy that age.

“I am here to see my sister.” There seemed little point in beating about the bush. They both knew why she had come.