Promise to Cherish (8 page)

His calm and collected attitude deflated her. She handed a patient the mini cup of medications, and she and Eli watched as he swallowed them down. She watched as Eli used the depressor with slow, careful movements, knowing that the patient had mouth sores from his latest electroshock therapy. He impressed her.

“You’re good with the patients.”

Eli’s head snapped to look at her. A wide smile crossed over his face. Christine turned away from him and looked back at the next patient in line, handing him his medications. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of recognizing any admiration on her part.

“And you really don’t have previous experience?” She sighed as she resigned herself to compliment him, knowing it was the right thing to do, though it hurt her ego to do so.

She handed Wally his meds.

“No, but I come from a large family. I’ve watched my mom take care of us.” He shrugged.

Wally smiled at Eli and opened his mouth wide.

“I’m going to beat you at cards later,” Wally said. He twitched some as he spoke but his voice was clear and not slurred.

“You’ll never win, buddy,” Eli said, patting the patient’s back as he walked away.

“What about the magic trick?” She noted in her logbook that Wally was alert and attentive today. This was not his usual way. While she wanted to challenge Brenneman more, she found it difficult to do so when his actions were so helpful and his demeanor so polite.

He turned again and smirked. “You saw that?”

“Yes, it was awful.” Christine handed out the next medication. The patient took it and Eli checked his mouth.

“Rodney,” Eli said, his voice firm. “Take a drink.”

Rodney crossed his arms.

“No,” Rodney said. His eyes narrowed.

Eli took a step toward Rodney and his chest puffed. “Take a drink, Rodney. If you don’t, you know what will happen.”

“I’m not afraid of restraints or of you.” Rodney grabbed a small cup of water and drank it. Eli checked again, using the tongue depressor to push away the pockets of his cheek.

Eli didn’t seem to be concerned about Rodney’s distaste for him. His size alone was imposing and he seemed to take on the same no-nonsense attitude as Adkins—just enough power to remind the patient that they could be dominated.

He nodded his head to move on.

“Better than yesterday,” Eli commented under his breath. Christine just barely heard him.

“You sure push your weight around. I thought you didn’t believe in fighting.” She baited him.

“I’m not fighting,” he said simply, but Christine could see his jaw clench and relax back and forth.

“But you were intimidating him. What if he’d refused to take his meds, then what? Would you get physical?”

“I wouldn’t hurt him. If I have to hold him down in order to restrain him, I will, but I will not harm him—or any of the patients. That’s what Adkins has instructed us to do.”

She held in a huffy sigh.

“So, you said you have a big family.” Christine tried to keep the sharpness out of her voice as she moved on to the patients who weren’t able to line up. Eli continued to assist.

“Five brothers and two sisters,” he said while checking the next mouth.

There was a short pause in conversation.

“Wow, five brothers.” She paused. “My two brothers were killed in the war. You know, the one that you’re skipping out on.” She looked at him and their eyes met. She couldn’t let it go. He was a coward. She was getting to him. His mouth was tight and his face was becoming redder with the passing moments.

Eli checked another mouth, gave the patient a look, and handed him a second water cup. The patient drank the water and pills down and Eli checked again. He patted him on the arm but the patient scowled as he pulled his arm away.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” His voice was so soft that Christine could barely hear him.

Christine stopped passing the medications until Eli looked at her.

“Are you sorry?” Her heart pounded faster by degrees as she spoke. “While you and your people refuse to fight I have two brothers dead in Europe out of loyalty and service. I just don’t understand.” She sated her building passion by biting the inside of her cheek and fiddling with her glasses.

“I’m not surprised you don’t understand it, or the rest of the country, for that matter. I don’t think I understood until my draft notice came. Listen, I’ve made bad decisions in my life, fighting and that sort of thing. It’s not something I’m proud of, but still, it’s not the same thing as killing someone—and forcing
him into eternity—when he might not be prepared. My conscience won’t allow it.”

He shook his head and cleared his throat.

Christine found his explanation honest but didn’t agree. Couldn’t agree. As a Christian she naturally believed in God and the Devil, and heaven and hell, too, for that matter. But wasn’t everyone accountable for themselves? If they headed into war, they should expect they might die and be prepared.

“Since when are you responsible for their hearts? And what about defending freedom and being loyal to our country? Righting wrongs? I mean, what about Pearl Harbor?”

“It’s terrible and—”

“But you’re not going to do anything about it, are you?” She interrupted.

Eli sighed and pursed his lips.

“I don’t believe Jesus himself would ever kill or hurt anyone. The Amish church chooses to follow his example and—”

“So why did his disciples carry swords? Didn’t Peter strike a Roman soldier and cut off his ear?”

“Sure, but Jesus then told him not to strike and he miraculously healed the soldier.”

“So, he wanted peace—we all do. Isn’t there a difference between seeking peace and avoiding even defending our freedoms?”

His eyes glanced over to Wally. “The cost is too high for war. Too many people are wounded. Too many die.”

“What about the Old Testament? There were so many wars.” She had stopped passing out the medications already and she didn’t waiver from his eyes as she spoke.

“And what about the commandment not to murder?” he countered, and he stood straight but his voice remained cool and collected.

Though Christine’s mind wasn’t changed, she couldn’t help but see a small glimpse of his point of view.

“Jesus told us to turn the other cheek and love our enemies, to do good to those who hate you. The Bible gives us plenty of reasons not to agree with war.”

“What if your family was going to be harmed? Would you just let it happen? Didn’t Jesus also teach to always be prepared to defend your faith—to defend our right for freedom to choose our own faith?”

“What do you think I’m doing here?” His voice was quiet but deliberate and passionate.

Christine winced. He had indeed just, in part, proved his faith through his actions.

CHAPTER 6

J
uly Fourth fireworks had put half the patients into panic attacks, and the rest had clamored to open the windows to catch a glimpse. If that wasn’t bad enough a few neighborhood boys had set off some firecrackers next to their building just an hour before Christine’s shift, rousing them all into further fits of shock and confusion. It had taken Christine still another hour to get the patients calmed down enough to give them their medications.

She was walking down the hall toward the day room to start handing out medications when she saw Eli cleaning up another mess in the hall. Wally barely gave him enough room to use the mop. He hadn’t left his side since she arrived. If it wasn’t for Eli she was sure Wally would’ve needed a sedative. Loud sounds always affected soldiers more than anyone else.

A loud scream came from down the hall behind her.

“Get out of—” The screechy voice was cut off by the sounds of a slamming door.

“That’s Gov. I’ll go,” Brenneman said to her as he rushed by with Wally at his heels.

“Albert, get out of bed before you soil it,” Nurse Minton’s
voice carried through the now open door. Albert was Gov’s real name. Minton didn’t cater to his belief that he was the governor of New York.

Curiosity drove Christine to the doorway of the room. Instantly she surveyed the situation in the opposite corner of the five-bed room. Both the nurse and patient were in their forties and both had tall, angular faces and bony elbows. From her vantage point both the patient and the nurse looked crazy. She hated referring to people as crazy, but with Minton yelling and Gov wailing, it was all she could see. Eli stood off to the side with Wally next to him.

“Get up!” Nurse Minton’s pale face was turning a bright shade of red.

“I can’t. Snakes under my bed,” Gov cried. His gray and brown hair always looked as if he’d been electrocuted. His skin was an ashen hue, with entire sections that seemed reptilian and other sections that were scabbed over from his own picking.

“There aren’t any snakes under your bed.” The nurse rolled her eyes and groaned. She grabbed his arm and pulled him harshly. Gov’s other hand gripped onto the metal bed frame, and the bed shifted from the wall, clambering against the concrete floor, but Gov remained firmly on top.

“Nurse Minton, let me.” Eli stood next to Minton. Their eyes met.

“You think you can do better?” The woman’s eyes narrowed.

“He was left in the woods for two full nights as a child. By the time they found him he was covered in snake bites.” His voice was calm and cool.

“He’s all yours.” Nurse Minton walked off.

Her shoulder purposely hit Christine’s on her way out of the doorway.

Christine watched in amazement as Eli handled the situation. His voice sounded gentle and almost songlike, like he was
talking to a child. His eyebrows rose with an excited expression on his face.

“Look Gov, I’m getting all the snakes and I’m throwing them out the window,” Eli began saying as he smiled.

Eli opened the window and began picking up imaginary snakes and tossing them outside.

“Don’t let them bite you.” Gov sat up in bed and watched.

“If they do, I’ll just bite them back.” Eli bared his teeth, making Gov laugh.

Christine put a hand in front of her smile and a flutter rose in her chest. There was something about Eli; she couldn’t understand it, but she was drawn to him.

CHAPTER 7

December 2, 1945

Dear Son,

Blessings in the Name of our Lord Jesus Christ. May you seek to follow His Holy Word and not stray with the worldliness around you.

Our weather has been just fine this fall and winter. We are having a typical December. I’m sure Mem told you how Mark is doing managing the farm. He comes over every morning—sometimes Sylvia and the twins come also. Mem enjoys having company. Your Mem’s Aunt Annie will be coming to live here, her husband Simon recently died. Since she doesn’t have any children to take care of her we offered. She’ll be living in the small cottage on the other side of the field. No one’s lived there since Ault Daudy Mark died years ago.

I got your letter a few weeks ago and have been thinking long and hard about what to write. I am glad that you’ve decided to come to me and apologize for the vilteh vehya from your younger years.

You’ve been away for over a year now. That’s a long time to be away from the church and our ways. Now that Norman’s home from the CPS he has talked some about the life in the camps. The world is a dangerous place. Resist its temporal whims and remember what you’ve learned in church. The world will toss you about like a pebble on the beach. You’re not an easily tempted boy anymore, you’re a man now. Put those old things behind you and remember that you are Amish. The world will not understand you and God’s ways.

In His Holy Name,

Dat

Eli sat alone in his room and relished a few moments in the quiet. His
dat
’s letter had given him some things to think about. It was the only letter he’d gotten from his
dat.
His
mem
wrote nearly every week, though never very personal it kept him updated on the family news. Matilda wrote about twice a week with news from their district, the neighboring districts, and of all the Amish in the greater northeastern area.

He looked at the sock he’d been darning before he read the letter. It was December now, and warm socks were a must—but he didn’t have the energy to finish it. His fingers were calloused and pinpricked from all the socks he’d darned for himself and the others in the unit. It was slow and cumbersome work, but there were fewer lady volunteers than there were through the summer, so they all had to pull their weight. He’d been gone for over a year now; though he’d followed the list he’d been given and arrived at the camp with everything required, his possessions had slowly dwindled as clothes wore out without being replaced. His towels were ragged. His hygienic needs didn’t account for much and all he had for reading was his Bible and a few magazines. He’d just run out of stationery and stamps. He didn’t know when he would get more, so he asked his mother to send some. Sometimes Matilda would put an extra stamp in
her envelope for him to write her back and his instinct told him the right thing to do was to use it to write her back—though he didn’t want to.

“You coming for some crud?” Freddy opened Eli’s door and popped his head in.

It had taken some time to get used to the idea of calling food
crud
. He would never refer to his mother’s cooking that way and could imagine the stern look from his father if he ever did. The mere thought of them made him wonder what it would be like when he returned home.

“Let me finish this sock.” Eli concentrated on the last few stitches in the toe of a too-thin sock. After a quick inspection, he tossed it in his pile and stood. “I won’t miss this at all.”

“You’ll be darning your own socks forever—well, unless you find a wife good enough for you,” Freddy reminded.

“
Bish du mai mem
?” Eli asked Freddy if he was his mother and gave him a spirited shove as they walked out of his room. “Besides, you’re only a year younger than me, and you’re not married either.”