Sisters of the Quilt Trilogy (15 page)

Wishing Becky hadn’t just gone to see Luke, Hannah laid her hand over Mary’s and repeated in Pennsylvania Dutch what the doctor had said. As Dr. Hill worked on Mary, making her cough, Hannah closed her eyes tight and kept talking to Mary assuring her she was fine. Hannah shivered when she heard a suctioning noise, but she refused to open her eyes. She muttered and sang to Mary, hoping her voice didn’t betray how scared she was.

Someone touched Hannah’s shoulder. “She’s breathing on her own,” Dr. Hill said. “The tubes have been removed.”

Hannah opened her eyes. The contraption that had been taped over Mary’s mouth was gone. A nurse was placing a thin tube under Mary’s nose. Mary managed to open her bleary eyes and focus on Hannah. Elation soared through Hannah’s soul, and her lips parted in a wide grin.

“Ah, a smile,” Dr. Greenfield teased her. “That alone was worth altering my rounds for.”

Hannah beamed at him. Until this moment, she hadn’t realized he’d come into the room too. “Thank you.” She looked at Dr. Hill. “Thank both of you for everything. I should go tell her
Mamm.
”

Dr. Hill grunted. “You stay here and help her remain calm. A nurse will see to that.”

“Th-h-h-h,” Mary barely got the sound out before she started coughing.

A nurse grabbed the container of ice water and a cup off the nightstand. She filled the cup and placed a straw in it. Hannah placed the straw in Mary’s mouth and held the drink for her.

After several difficult swallows, Mary tried to speak again. “L-l-l-l-l … Luke?”

Chills ran over Hannah’s body. Mary remembered!

As soon as the medical personnel left the room, Hannah started talking to Mary about Luke and their future and the beautiful children they would be blessed with. She told her about her plan for the two of them to make a special quilt together.

It wasn’t always easy to understand Mary. Her words were a bit jumbled, her memory blank about some things, and her voice hoarse. But she appeared to remember all the important things in life: her childhood, her love for Luke, and her faith in God.

Hannah was thrilled.

L
uke stifled a moan as he eased his body into the wheelchair his sister was holding steady. It was nearly midnight.
Mamm
and Becky had gone to the hotel for the night.

He looked straight ahead as Hannah wheeled him onto the elevator, off at the second floor, and toward Mary’s room. He didn’t care what the doctor said; he had to see Mary. He heard Hannah take a nervous breath as she pushed his wheelchair past the nurses’ station on the way to Mary’s room.

A plump, dark-haired nurse glanced up from her work. “Fifteen minutes maximum.”

Luke lifted his good hand in acknowledgment. “Thank you.”

Hannah bent down to his ear. “I feel much better now that we have permission.” She stopped his chair outside Mary’s room. “Luke, they’ve shaved her head. They had to. She had a lot of gashes that needed tending to besides where they performed surgery.”

“I’ll be fine. Let’s go on in.”

Hannah opened the door and wheeled him inside.

Mary was white as a sheet and gaunt. How much weight had she lost since Sunday night? She looked frail and helpless. Her bald head had a huge white patch taped to the side and several smaller patches showing through her white prayer
Kapp
.

Hannah wheeled him closer to the bed and squatted beside him. “Dr. Hill said she will probably get to leave ICU within the next day or so.”

Luke’s hands began to shake. How had this happened to them? They’d been so happy, laughing and teasing, and then …

Miserable guilt bore down on him until he thought he might pass out. His breath came in short, wheezing spurts. As he searched through his feelings for something that made this bearable, an idea came to him. Maybe it wasn’t his fault. Finally he was able to catch a breath.

But then whose fault was it? He stared at poor Mary while he tumbled that thought around and around. He wouldn’t have been near the Knepps’ place if …

Not comfortable with where his thoughts were taking him, Luke resisted.

A few moments later the blame pointed its finger again, and this time he didn’t resist. If Hannah had gone with them to the singing as he’d begged her to, they would have been at the farm, and this would have never happened. He sat there, staring at his sleeping fiancée, wondering why Hannah hadn’t joined them that night.

“She’s doing very well, Luke. Really,” Hannah whispered.

Luke studied his girl. His throat constricted, and his eyes burned with threatening tears. Mary’s best friend had put them out there on that road. Why did his sister have to be so stubborn?

A dark-haired nurse entered the room with a full IV bag. As she quietly changed the bag, Mary woke. When she saw him, excitement shone in her eyes for an instant before dread took over. She touched her bald head around the edges of her
Kapp
, looking painfully embarrassed.

The nurse lowered Mary’s bed and then the rail between Luke and Mary.

He reached for her, and his fingers enveloped her fragile hand. He knew the anguish of having her head shaved would haunt her for years to come. “You’re alive. Don’t you dare think anything else matters.” His voice broke as he fought to not cry.

Mary wept. “Oh, L-l-luke,” she said in her faltering, broken speech, “I ’idn’t want you to ’ee me like ’is.”

How can she think that matters?

The nurse cleared her throat. “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”

“Me too.” Hannah followed the nurse out of the room.

Luke lifted Mary’s hand, caressing the smooth skin. “Your hair will grow back, sweetheart.”

She cradled his hand in hers. “I’ on’t ’emember what ’appened.” Her voice sounded as if she had laryngitis.

“It’s sort of hazy for me too.”

Relief that he’d understood her reflected in her eyes.

He glanced at the machines still attached to her, pumping pure air and keeping track of her heart rate and such. “How are you feeling?”

“S-s-scared.”

Luke kissed Mary’s hand. The feel of her warm skin against his lips broke through his resolve. He choked on his tears. “I’ve been so worried.” He buried his face against her shoulder.

She leaned her cheek against the top of his head. “I ’ont know what I’d do without Hannah. She …”

When he looked up, he realized Mary was trying to speak, but her thoughts wouldn’t form into words. He began to see her need to keep Hannah close. If anyone could speak for Mary, understand her without words being spoken, it would be his sister.

But Mary didn’t know what Luke knew.

Setting the blame aside, Luke reached for her. After awkward hugs and sputtering words of thankfulness that they were both alive, Luke lifted his head and touched her angelic face. “You do remember agreeing to marry me, right?”

“M–m–maybe.” Playfulness entered her eyes, filling him with thankfulness. “I ’member you s-s-saying s-s-something about yard work not bein’ w–w–women’s w-w-work.”

Luke laughed. “But yard work
is
women’s work. You’ve known that since before you were born, I s’pect. There might even be an edict from the bishop on the matter.”

Mary smiled. “Is n–n–not.”

“So, in order to marry you, I have to agree to do what everyone in our community considers a woman’s job?”

She nodded.

“Done,” Luke quipped.

Mary laughed and then moaned from pain. “Should’ve m-m-made a harder ’argain.”

Luke tried to clarify her sentence. “Oh, I think you drive a plenty hard bargain, don’t you?”

She nodded.

Luke kissed her fingertips. “You can have anything I’m capable of giving. Just name it.”

She eased her hand from his, placed her fingers over her lips, and kissed them. Then, shaking, she laid her fingers on Luke’s lips. He kissed her fingers, reveling in how much that simple touch felt as if his lips had touched hers.

Mary smiled. “I … m–m–marry you n–n–no m-m-matter what.”

His throat constricted, and he couldn’t answer for several moments. She leaned back against the bed while he smothered her hand in kisses. Her eyes closed, and she drifted off to sleep.

Tomorrow he’d explain to her that he was being released from the hospital soon and had promised his mother he’d follow the doctor’s orders by going home and resting. The doctor assured Luke if he didn’t follow his advice, he’d be in no shape to help Mary in the months to come. Hannah paced the corridor near Mary’s room, basking in the joy of her friend’s recovery as well as her brother’s. There was no denying the light in Mary’s eyes the moment she saw Luke.

Her heart fluttered a bit. There was something so precious, so strengthening about the kind of love that ran between a man and a woman who wanted to marry. Love that strong would endure a lot and come back even stronger. A fresh ache to see Paul stole some of her excitement for Luke and Mary.

Her thoughts jumped to the long road of recovery that lay before the two. Mary’s journey would be a particularly difficult one, but Hannah intended to be by her side every minute that Mary needed her.

Determined to settle her emotions, Hannah stopped pacing and eased into a chair. She leaned her head back against the wall and tried to quiet her mind. If only there was some way she could communicate with Paul, some way to get a letter to him …

She gasped.
There is!

Why hadn’t she thought of this before? If she could get her hands on some paper, she could write Paul a letter and mail it from here. If he received the letter before Mary was discharged, maybe he could sneak in a visit with her at the hospital.

She jumped to her feet and glanced at the clock over the nurses’ station. She had seven minutes before she’d have to take Luke back to his room. The gift shop would have paper and pens. Her mother had left her money for food. If she skipped breakfast, maybe lunch too, she’d have enough to buy paper, envelopes, and stamps.

She dashed for the elevators. Once inside she pushed the
L
for lobby. When the doors opened, she scurried to the gift shop. Disappointment filled her when she saw that it was closed. But the sign on the door said it would open again at nine the next morning.

For a moment she considered calling Paul. That thought faded as quickly as it came. His phone number at the apartment wasn’t listed under his name. She knew his best friend’s name was Marcus King, but the phone wasn’t in Marcus’s name either. She didn’t know Ryan’s or Taylor’s last name. Paul had written down the number for her once, but it was taped to the underside of a drawer at home.

She’d just have to wait until tomorrow and mail him a letter.

The nagging question of why she hadn’t heard from him ruffled her elation. Maybe he was sorry he’d asked her to marry him. He did wait until the last day to ask. That could mean it was a spur-of-the-moment idea. But no. The savings book proved he’d been planning this for years. Then again, maybe his years of planning referred simply to sponsoring a little Thai girl. She couldn’t remember exactly how the conversation had gone.

She did remember two columns of figures in the book he’d given her. But since it had been burned along with her clothes from that day—

A bolt of excitement shot through her. Memories of that day were no longer a mass of confusion. She knew what had taken place between her and Paul. She could think.

Yes. She remembered.

She balled her hands into fists that hung by her side, refusing to show her emotions to anyone in the lobby.

Through the bars of the gift shop, she saw the selection of writing items. No stationery but plenty of greeting cards. In the morning, when the store opened, she would go in, make her purchase, and write to him. Her family had passed through Harrisburg, the city that shared part of the name of his college, on the drive to the hospital. If Paul got her note in time, it’d take him less than an hour to drive to Hershey. Then she would finally know what was really going on with him.

Doubts jerked her emotions. Part of her feared what the truth might be.

But determination won out over her concerns. Whatever was going on with Paul, it was time she found out.

P
ushing her disappointment aside, Hannah tried not to think about the five days that had passed since she had written to Paul. She hadn’t heard anything from him, and Mary would be discharged tomorrow. Hannah stepped inside the physical-therapy room, awed at the amount and variety of equipment. She was here to learn the workout routines her friend would need to do over the next weeks and months.

It was an interesting place. Three patients, all in different areas of the room, worked with their own personal physical therapists. A man dressed in shorts and a sleeveless shirt pushed against some type of cushioned armrest thing. The pulleys lifted a stack of thin, oblong items that, based on the strain on the man’s arms, she assumed had to be weights. In the middle of the floor was a short set of stairs that had steps on each side so a person could walk up one side and down the other. Huge rubber balls, each taller than her youngest sister, rested against the walls. Scattered throughout the room were treadmills, stacks of towels, jump ropes, rods that looked like broom handles, and an array of things she didn’t recognize.

Hannah waited by the door, hoping to spot Mary’s physical therapist. Desiree, who looked barely old enough to be done with her schooling, had come to Mary’s room daily and worked with her, lifting and rotating her limbs, even before she was brought out of the coma. She was energetic and friendly, but she gave Mary very little slack when it came to the workout.

Desiree came waltzing out of an office with her jet-black ponytail banded carelessly on her head. She had on a burgundy hospital uniform. She spotted Hannah and headed toward her. “Hi. Glad to see you found the place.” She held out her hand.

Hannah shook her hand. “Good morning.”

Desiree glanced at her watch. “You’re right on time. But I need to speak with someone before we get started. Okay?”

“Sure.” Hannah waited at the entrance of the workout room while the physical therapist walked over to a middle-aged man wearing a similar uniform.

The young woman didn’t seem miffed that John and Becky Yoder had decided that once their daughter was discharged from the hospital, she wouldn’t return here or go anywhere else for physical therapy. One of the many discoveries Hannah had made while staying at the hospital was the rights of all Americans to certain health-related freedoms. Not only was health care provided for Luke and Mary before the hospital knew who they were or if the bill would ever be paid, but they also had the right to refuse medical help—no matter how a doctor, nurse, or the entire medical staff felt. Even the most educated had to yield to the individual’s rights.

Desiree motioned for Hannah to follow her. “Let me grab Mary’s chart, and we’ll get started.” She sauntered into a small office and over to a stack of clipboards that were lying on a well-organized desk.

Hannah waited by the office door, marveling at the many health-related books lining the shelves.

Sifting through the clipboards, Desiree picked one out. “I’ll teach you what she needs to do on a daily basis. The routine will change as the days and weeks pass, but we’ll cover that too. I’ll send home all sorts of information you can use for reference.”

She walked to the stack of towels. “Our first goal is to get a good range of motion back into Mary’s injured shoulder.” She grabbed a folded towel and passed it to Hannah. “Let’s sit on the floor and work from there.”

While showing Hannah the workout routine, Desiree shared her medical knowledge. Each thing she explained caused a sense of excitement in Hannah unlike anything she’d ever experienced. The young woman explained things about the muscular, pulmonary, cardiac, and vascular systems, as well as various symptoms to watch for. As their two-hour time slot drew to a close, Hannah had a long list of health-related facts. She knew more than she ever could have imagined, but her appetite for medical knowledge gnawed at her to learn more.

“Okay” Desiree gathered into one pile the workout routine charts that were spread over the floor. “Tomorrow I’ll teach you about gait training, where she’ll learn to use a walker for short periods of time. But she won’t be ready for that for another month. I’ll also show you how to use a rolling walker and a quad cane.” She rose to her feet. “When we’ve covered everything, I’ll attach my card to the stuff I’m sending home with you so you can call me if you have any questions.”

Taking one last look at the chart in her hand, Hannah passed it to Desiree. “It’s fascinating.”

Desiree nodded. “I think so. And I think you’ll do well with Mary. You picked up on everything quickly. Next on your to-do list is learning how to check Mary’s blood pressure and heart rate. Someone will work with you on that later this afternoon.”

Wow
. Hannah wished she had more time to learn.

Paul parked his car in the lot behind his apartment and headed up the curved sidewalk. Exhaustion covered him, just like the gloomy, starless canopy overhead. He needed sleep. So far today he’d accomplished getting through his classes, working all afternoon at the tire store, and studying for hours at the library—all on about four hours of sleep. His bed was calling to him.

As he passed the student mailboxes, he had a fleeting thought of picking up his mail.
I’ll do it tomorrow … or the next day
.

He used to check his mailbox every day, eagerly anticipating a letter from Hannah. But since Gram had put her foot down on passing letters to him, there was no way he was going to hear from Hannah anytime soon. With that possibility gone, he felt no reason to check except to occasionally keep up with bills. Since he’d always intercepted the mail, his roommates never went to the mailbox.

He placed his key into the apartment lock and slipped inside. After pulling off his shoes, he shoved them against the wall. Using the only light on in the place, a dim one in the hallway, he made his way to his and Marcus’s room. He dropped his heavy book bag in a corner and sprawled across his twin bed. He would get ready for bed in a few minutes. Right now he had no energy for anything but to lie there.

Paul dozed in and out but never really fell asleep. He eased his feet to the side of the bed and rubbed his face. Perhaps if he changed out of his street clothes, he’d sleep better. As he stood, his keys fell to the floor. In one slow swoop, he picked them up and tossed them onto the nightstand. The small, gold mailbox key on the chain reflected the hallway light. The desire to check his mailbox returned. Ignoring it, he shook his head and made his way into the bathroom.

He brushed his teeth and peeled down to his boxers. Then he crept back to his bed and pulled down the covers. As he slid between the sheets, the nagging desire to look in his mailbox persisted. Finally giving in to the craving, Paul pulled on a pair of jeans, grasped the key, and headed outside.

His bare feet tingled as he crossed the cold concrete sidewalk. Under the glow of a streetlamp, he opened his box and pulled out a few items. A green flier advertising a sale on tires made him snort. Beneath that, he noticed a couple of bills, a coupon ad, and a note-sized envelope. He tucked the miscellaneous items under his arm and turned the envelope address side up.

His heart lurched. The return address belonged to his grandmother, but the handwriting was Hannah’s. He tore it open while dashing back to his apartment. In spite of the solitude of the campus this late at night, the privacy of his bedroom was the only place to read Hannah’s letters.

After flipping on the reading lamp, he sat on the side of the bed.

Paul,

My brother Luke and my dear friend Mary have been in an accident. I’m staying at Hershey Medical Center. If you get this letter in time and wish to speak with me, do come. Mary’s room is on the second floor.

Hannah

If
he wished to speak to her? Of course he wanted to speak to her. He wanted it so badly he had to squelch his feelings of joy in light of her reason for being at Hershey. He said a prayer for Luke and Mary, and then he checked out the postmark on the letter. Hannah had mailed it five days ago. It had probably been in his mailbox for two or three days. In spite of hoping Luke and Mary were well on their way to being released, he also hoped they were still at HMC.

He skimmed the brief note again. Excited as he was at the prospect of seeing Hannah, the coolness of her note gave him pause. She was not one to indulge in giddy romantic nonsense, so her letters never contained words of endearment or had a flirtatious tone. But this one made him flinch. They were engaged, for Pete’s sake, yet she mentioned nothing about missing him or wanting to see him. It was more like an invitation offered out of protocol, because she was now in the vicinity, rather than an opportunity she hoped he didn’t miss.

Reading the message again, he decided he was being self-centered. She’d managed to mail him a note. What more should he expect in such a traumatic situation?

Scurrying around like a maniac, Paul wrote Marcus a brief note and headed out the door.

The thirty-minute ride to Hershey was not a pleasant one. His thoughts and desires pulled him in ten different directions for every minute he drove. He wished he didn’t have to be separated from Hannah like this, but he had to get his bachelor’s degree under his belt. Frustration with Gram hounded him. But what if she was right? His family wouldn’t have as many qualms about Hannah as hers would about him, but they’d have plenty of reservations.

His thoughts zipped in every direction, but when he pulled into the parking lot of the hospital, he knew one thing for sure: he had no answers, only desire.

While jogging across the lot and through the main entrance, he formed a plan. He’d check each waiting room on the second floor and hopefully catch a glimpse of Hannah without being spotted by any of her family. That would be far preferable to asking at a nurses’ station about Luke Lapp or Mary Yoder. The fewer people who knew of his visit, the safer his and Hannah’s secret connection would be.

When the elevator doors opened at the second floor and he stepped into the hallway, Paul realized he was on the ICU floor. It must have been a bad accident. Striding down the long corridor, he checked the first waiting room. She wasn’t there. After searching the last wing of the unit, he gave up and went to the nurses’ station.

“Excuse me.”

A plump, dark-haired nurse looked up from the papers on the desk in front of her. “Visiting hours are over, sir.”

“I’m looking for Luke Lapp.”

“He was removed from ICU four days ago. I heard he was released from the hospital two days later.”

Paul rubbed his forehead, chastising himself for not checking his mailbox sooner.

A half smile graced her lips. “I take it that wasn’t the answer you were looking for.”

Paul tried to hide his mounting disappointment. “Is Mary Yoder still here?”

A buzzer went off, and the nurse jumped to her feet and hustled down the hallway. Without slowing, she turned toward Paul. “She’s been released from ICU. If she’s still a patient here, she’ll be on the fifth floor. But their visiting hours are over too.”

“Thank you,” he called after her.

The woman waved as she disappeared inside a cubicle.

Paul strode to the elevators, clinging to a draining hope that Hannah might still be at the hospital.

Just as he’d done on the second floor, he walked the corridors, looking and listening for any sign of Hannah. When he heard a man’s voice with a distinctly Amish way of turning a phrase, he slowed his pace. He peered into the waiting area from an angle that wouldn’t catch the attention of whoever was in the room.

Excitement pumped through his veins. There she was, his beautiful Hannah, sitting and talking to an Amish man. She laughed in that friendly, shy way of hers. Leaning her head toward him, she spoke softly. “I wouldn’t confess this to a relative, and you’d better not either. But as a friend, I’m telling you, I did.”

Friend?
This guy wasn’t a relative?

In an instant, insecurity took over. Jealousy reared up. His Hannah was sitting directly beside some young man, talking nonchalantly and chuckling. Paul’s view only gave him a profile of Hannah and her
friend
. Their legs were stretched out side by side, their feet propped in a chair across from them.