Rebecca's Return (30 page)

N
othing had changed by Tuesday.

After an early supper, Isaac and Miriam drove to the medical center, arriving sometime before six, the winter daylight almost gone by then.

“Aden and Esther might be coming too,” Miriam said, as they approached the outskirts of town.

“That’s nice,” Isaac said, his mind obviously elsewhere.

“It might be a little later though. Esther said Aden had some things to do at the store. They really miss John because of the holiday season approaching and all. Aden said he isn’t hiring anyone else on. Do you think he’s just being kind by not replacing John?”

“Maybe he likes the work John was doing. John’s a good worker.”

“It’s got to be more than that,” Miriam thought aloud. “Maybe he thinks John will get better soon.”

“Don’t we all,” Isaac said, leaving it at that.

“But John’s still not even out of his coma,” she protested. “How can he assume that John’s going to be able to work again soon?”

“Aden doesn’t. He’s doing what we all have to do. Wait and see. If we guess, it’ll just be wrong. I’m sure Aden is wise enough to know that.”

“Why is life like that?” She shivered under the buggy blanket, pulling it up tighter around her waist.

“Not all of it is,” Isaac said. “Just enough to keep us from feeling too at home on this earth.
Da Hah
knows what He’s doing.”

Miriam said nothing as Isaac pulled to a stop at an intersection. The light was red. The vehicles crossed in front of them, rushing by each other in a hurry to go somewhere.

She wished she were in a hurry to go where she was going, but she wasn’t. The evening ahead seemed like a load too heavy to carry. The days that had gone by had done their damage, like clouds that dropped their rain but still hung leaden in the sky.

“There they come now,” Miriam said, turning around to look down the street behind them, having heard the faint sound of horse’s hooves on pavement.

“It is a buggy,” Isaac agreed, after a moment’s silence in which the distinct sound became louder. “I’m not sure it’s Aden’s though. There are others who come into town.”

“This time of the night? It must be them.”

“Aden must have gotten done early then.”

“It
is
them,” she repeated, as the buggy pulled to a stop two cars behind them, her eyes catching a glimpse inside.

When the light turned green, Isaac let his horse go with a jerk. Both horses trotted across the intersection, the buggies following tight behind each other as the two cars turned right.

“You know what time we’re going back?” Isaac asked, pulling to a stop again before turning into the hospital parking lot.

“Not too late. Visiting hours aren’t that late,” she said, as he brought the buggy to a halt at the lightpost.

“You think anyone else will come down to visit?” he asked.

“I doubt it. Weekends—maybe they would. Most people will wait till John is home.”

“That shouldn’t be long,” he commented, having tied up the horse. They stood together, waiting for Aden and Esther to join them from farther down the parking lot.

“Oh, I hope so,” she said.

“It’s just the way things are,” Isaac said. “It has to happen sometime. When the swelling goes down, then he can start getting better and come home. Then things will be much easier. Home is where things like this should happen.”

“But we should be thankful for what hospitals do for us,” she said quickly.

“That’s true,” he agreed, “but the best is still the best.”

“I’m just thankful for all that these doctors and nurses are doing. They really care here.”

“I am thankful,” he said.

“Good evening,” Aden said, as he and Esther approached.

“Good evening,” Isaac said with a nod.

“Thankful the weather’s not too cold,” Aden offered. “Makes the drive down easier.”

“Yes,” Isaac agreed. “I thought of that too. Guess we would have put the visit off—if things had been too bad.”

“You think we’ll have snow for Christmas?” Aden asked.

“Sounds like a schoolboy,” Isaac commented, chuckling. “I see your parking lot is full—most days anyway. Suppose you could be using John.”

“Sure. But it can’t be helped.” Aden’s face was all sympathy. “I guess you could fill in for him a few days, if you wanted,” he added, holding the front doors of the medical center open for the rest of their group.

“But what about my harness shop?” Isaac said from just inside, the front doors swinging shut with a soft thud.

“I know.” Aden shrugged his shoulders. “It puts all of us in a pinch.”

“Why don’t you hire someone part-time?” Isaac asked.

“Takes too much training—wouldn’t be fair for either of us. We’ll just muddle along the best we can.”

“Well, maybe I could come over a day or so.”

“It would help,” Aden shrugged his shoulders again. “Even an afternoon would do wonders. You know your way around. Some of the sales, Sharon just can’t make.”

“I could work at least till Christmas sales are caught up,” Isaac thought aloud.

“Things are busy, though, till the first of the year,” Aden reminded him. “Maybe John will be better by then.”

“That’s probably asking a lot. He’s a long way from that,” Isaac said.

“You never know. People recover fast sometimes.”

“It’s all in
Da Hah
’s hands.”

“Yes, it is,” Aden agreed.

As the four walked up to the empty front desk, Miriam said, “A nurse should be here soon.”

“Can’t we just go back?” Isaac asked.

“I always let them know when I come in,” Miriam said.

“We’re not waiting too long.” Isaac made his decision quickly. “If no one shows up soon, we know where the room is.”

As if he had been heard, footsteps sounded in the hall. The attendant appeared around the corner, walking briskly. “I thought I heard someone,” she said, greeting them with a warm smile.

“You’re still here?” Miriam asked in surprise, used to seeing the familiar nurse she had come to know as Mrs. Madison during the daylight hours.

“I’m on second shift today. It varies,” Mrs. Madison said. “You can all go on back if you wish.”

“Any changes?” Miriam asked, unable to keep the hope out of her voice.

“Nothing that you can see,” the nurse said. “But don’t give up hope. Sometimes they come out of it just like that,” she said, snapping her fingers. “But really no one knows.”

“It’s in the Lord’s hands,” Isaac agreed.

“We’re praying for him at our church,” Mrs. Madison said. “Put him on the prayer list right after they brought him in. Been praying for a miracle. He’s such a nice boy.” There were tears in her eyes now. “Faith can raise the boy up—I just know it.”

“If it’s the Lord’s will,” Isaac said quickly.

“Healing’s always the Lord’s will,” Mrs. Madison said with conviction. “With the doctor’s hands or with His own divine hands. That’s what I believe.”

Isaac heard Aden’s feet shift on the floor beside him. He searched for a way not to offend this obvious expression of concern for his son with any statement of disrespect.

“Thank you,” Isaac finally said. “We believe the Lord heals too, in His time and in His way. We will continue praying that the Almighty’s will be done.”

“We will too,” Mrs. Madison agreed. “We’ll keep on taking good care of your son too, Mr. Miller.”

“Thank you,” Isaac said.

“Thank you too,” Miriam added. “Maybe we’ll see you on the way out?”

“I’ll be here somewhere,” Mrs. Madison assured them.

With that they walked back to John’s room, Miriam opening the door softly and leading the way in. They gathered around the bed and stood standing single file at the rail. Somewhere the steady, rhythmic beep of a monitor sounded, its noise seeming to grow louder the longer they stood there. The pale IV line hung limply down toward John’s arm.

“He looks a little better,” Miriam said quietly.

“There’s good color, anyway,” Esther agreed. “I haven’t seen him since the first day. He’s better now—certainly.”

“He’s got to wake up soon,” Miriam half-whispered the words, then said louder, “John—it’s Mother. Wake up.” She reached out and touched his arm but received no response.

“It will be in
Da Hah
’s own time,” Isaac told her gently, laying his hand on her arm. “We must wait for His will. It’s always best. Always.”

“I know,” Miriam whispered. “He’ll be awake soon—if
Da Hah
wills it.”

They all stood at the rail for a few more minutes, and then Isaac suggested they should sing something.

“Like what?” Miriam whispered.

Aden answered by beginning a favorite hymn, “Farther Along.” They began with the chorus, “Farther along we’ll know all about it…” and continued through two stanzas, singing softly and allowing the beautiful sound to fill the room.

When they were finished, they all were quiet until Isaac led the way out. Outside the halls were empty, as they found their way to the waiting room. There too only a few people sat, leaving plenty of empty seats available.

Sitting against the wall, the low sound of their conversation in Pennsylvania Dutch went back and forth. Twenty minutes later, when no other visitors for John showed up, Isaac suggested they go.

Putting action to his words, he got to his feet. As they found their way out, there was no Mrs. Madison in sight at the front desk or in the halls. Minutes later they were both in their buggies, turning their horses homeward. The hoofbeats clattered on the pavement as they left the hospital parking lot.

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY-EIGHT

W
ednesday morning dawned as if making a dramatic attempt at awakening and then giving up, surrendered to the deep gloom of heavy storm-laden clouds. The anticipated snow started before Rebecca’s alarm clock went off, its soft swirl brushing her window.

She reached out, shutting off the racket, getting no rush of energy from the cold air in the room. Her spirits as low as the weather, Rebecca got dressed and went out to help chore. Thoughts of John and his condition had been with her all night.

Matthew said nothing to her when she entered the barn, apparently feeling the effects of the weather too. Halfway through the chores, she told him she was leaving to help with breakfast. He mumbled some version of an assent, telling her to shut the barn door when she left.

Rebecca felt like telling Matthew she would not have forgotten but decided not to. There was no sense in making feelings worse on this gray morning. When she opened the barn door to leave, she found snow falling heavier. The large flakes seemed to dangle in the air, taking their time to decide where to land until they were pushed on down by their fellow falling mates.

When Rebecca entered the kitchen, her mother told her she needed help with the bacon, the girls needed to be awakened, and the breakfast plates and silverware set out. By the time they all sat down to eat several minutes later, Rebecca was already tired and certain it was not just the weather.

“You still troubled?” Mattie asked, as they ate their breakfast.

“Yes,” she said.

“It was hard for you to see John Sunday,” Mattie said.

“I can imagine,” Lester agreed.

“We need to write to Leona,” Mattie stated matter-of-factly. “Tell her about John.”

“Why her?” Rebecca asked.

“You just came from there. It’s not like all the aunts and uncles need to be told. I expect they’ll find out soon enough, but Leona deserves a personal note.”

“Whatever.” Rebecca didn’t care one way or the other at the moment.

“I’ll write a note after the dishes are done,” Mattie decided.

“You think the mailman runs today?” Lester wondered.

“The snow will quit after a while,” Matthew said, as if he was an authority on such things.

“Are you the weatherman now?” Lester asked, chuckling.

“No,” he said, “but we still have to get to school. Can’t have any more snow days this year.”

Rebecca felt like telling Matthew that things like the weather didn’t always concern themselves with human needs, but she decided not to. Let Matthew keep his innocence as long as possible. Hers was being taken away fast enough.

After the breakfast dishes were done and kids sent off to school, Mattie sat down to write her letter. Lester had decreed, after a glance outside, that Matthew was probably right. The snow would be stopping soon.

Mattie’s letter told the story of John’s accident in great detail. When it was finished, Rebecca took the letter to the mailbox. Walking back up the driveway, she saw the mailman coming. He was an hour later than usual and bounced along the snowy road in the old beat-up pickup truck he used during bad weather. Skidding to a stop, he pulled up to the Keim mailbox.

Turning back to get the mail, Rebecca wondered what it must be like to be a mailman, to carry both sad and joyous news at the same time. Did the one perhaps outweigh the other? She quickly decided this was silly thinking, as if the mailman could tell what was in the letters.