The Doctor's Blessing (9 page)

A
mber visited with her young cousins in the spacious kitchen but kept an eye on Phillip and her grandmother through the big window overlooking the porch. Could her grandmother make him understand that the Amish weren’t some strange cult but simply Christians that didn’t separate their everyday lives from their faith?

She glanced at her watch. They had been out there for almost thirty minutes.

Taking a sip of tea that had been made for her, Amber blew out a long breath. If her grandmother couldn’t make Phillip see how important having a home birth was for an Amish woman, Amber didn’t know who could. She glanced out the window again and saw the rocker was empty. Her grandmother and Phillip were nowhere in sight.

“Is he your
boo-friend?
” Lilly, the youngest cousin asked.

Turning her attention back to the three girls ranging in age from seven to twelve who were seated around the table with her, Amber shook her head. “No. He is most definitely not my boyfriend.”

The girls were like stair-step carbon copies of each other
with blond hair, inquisitive blue eyes and ready smiles for the English cousin they rarely saw.

“Mammi Fisher fears you will become
en alt maedel.
Will you?” Ruth, at twelve, was in charge of her younger sisters while their parents and brothers were gone.

Amber summoned a smile. Trust kids to ask the most embarrassing questions. “If I find the right man, I’ll get married someday.”

“Are there no good English men? My friend Kara’s
dat
needs a new wife. Kara’s
mamm
died last year. Kara has only four brothers and sisters.” Ruth looked hopeful.

“Please tell Kara I’m sorry for her loss but I’m not interested in getting married right now. Besides, I’m not Amish. Kara’s
dat
would not marry me.”

“Mammi says you could be Amish if
Gott
wished it.” Rhoda, the nine-year-old, left the table to check on the roast simmering in the oven. The mouthwatering smells of perfectly seasoned beef with roasting carrots and onions filled the kitchen and set Amber’s stomach rumbling.

She said, “I believe I’m following the path He has chosen for me.”

The door opened and Betsy came in, followed by Phillip. He had three large pans full of snapped beans stacked in his arms. Amber jumped up to help him by taking one. “This is the trouble with visiting my family. They find work for everyone.”

“I don’t mind. I can add bean snapper to my résumé now.” He was smiling and seemed less tense than he’d been at the start of this journey.

After helping him set his burdens on the counter, Amber showed him where to wash up, then waited for him in the living room.

When he returned, she gestured to an empty chair. “Was my grandmother able to answer your questions?”

“She’s a very wise woman. Do you know she is worried about you? She wishes you lived closer to home so she could see you more often.” There was a touch of longing in his voice that Amber didn’t understand.

“I know she worries about me. She doesn’t understand I have my work and I love what I do. The Amish view being a wife, a mother and a helpmate to her husband as the only roles for women. Has she helped you see how important my work is?”

“She gave me a lot to think about.”

The sound of a buggy coming into the yard sent the girls scurrying outside to help. Amber and Phillip were soon engulfed in introductions as she presented her mother’s youngest sister, Maryanne, and her stoic husband, Tobias. While he and his two teenage boys stayed to visit with Phillip, it was easy to see they weren’t entirely comfortable with an outsider in their home. When the conversation lagged, Amber leaned over and whispered to Phillip, “Do you like baseball?”

He gave a slight nod.

“So does Tobias,” she said with a nod in his direction.

Giving her a thankful wink, Phillip straightened on the sofa and asked, “How do you think the Cleveland Indians will do this year?”

Tobias’s face turned bright red. His oldest son sat forward in his chair. “Their pitching staff is deep and they can field a ball. I think they’ll do well this year.”

“Nee.”
Tobias shook his head. “They’ve got good hitters but no consistency.”

The conversation quickly turned to local Amish teams and then to the sport Phillip enjoyed. He tried to explain surfing, but it was clear the idea of zipping along in front of a wave on a long board seemed silly to these stoic men. Fortunately, Maryanne came in to announce that supper was ready.

When everyone was seated in the kitchen, Tobias clasped
his hands together at the head of the table. The entire family did the same and closed their eyes for his silent blessing over the meal.

He cleared his throat when he was finished. It signaled everyone to begin serving themselves and passing the food to their guests.

For Amber, watching Phillip enjoy her family’s home cooking made the trip worthwhile. The roast, fork-tender, was done to perfection, as were the warm dinner rolls served with homemade strawberry jam and fresh butter.

Phillip sat beside Lilly. She watched his every move with wide eyes, especially when he began laying a few of his string beans aside at the edge of his plate. After careful examination of each bean, he chose to eat some and save some. Finally, it was too much for her.

“What are you doing? Are de beans
faul?
” Lilly eyed her own critically.

“Bad,” Amber translated.

Pointing to his stack with his fork, Phillip said, “These are my friends. I met them today when I was snapping with your grandmother.”

A few chuckles came from the adults at the table, including Amber.

Lilly looked at him in disbelief. “You can’t be friends with a bean.”

“I can’t?”

“
Nee,
and you can’t tell ’em apart, neither.”

“Are you sure?” He picked up one. “This looks an awful lot like one I snapped today.”

“I’m sure.”

Phillip tossed the bean in his mouth. “Well, he tastes good, even if he was my buddy.”

Lilly put her hands on her hips. “Are you funning me?”

Smiling, he nodded. “
Ja,
just a little.”

Lilly looked at her papa.
“Der Englischer ist ab im kopf.”

That made everyone laugh. Amber, seated across from Phillip, explained. “She said you are off in the head. Crazy.”

Phillip laughed, too.

When the meal was nearing its end, Betsy brought an apple-sauce cake to the table. Phillip held up his hand. “It smells wonderful, but I’m too full. Thank you, no.”

Cutting a slice, she placed it on his plate. “You must try this. It is my special recipe.”

Sighing, he lifted his fork and took one small bite. His eyes grew as round as silver dollars. Swallowing, he said, “This is the best stuff I’ve ever had.”

Seeing her grandmother’s delight, Amber was glad she had talked Phillip into coming here.

Later on the way back to Hope Springs, they traveled in companionable silence, both too stuffed to need conversation. The setting sun painted the sky with bands of gold and turned the bottom of the clouds a beautiful pink. When they passed a small cornfield, a flock of black birds rose in unison and wheeled across the sky, circling back and coming to rest again in the place they’d left.

Amber watched them settle in her rearview mirror and knew she was like those birds. No matter where she traveled in life, she would always come back to this place. It saddened her to think that Phillip would be flying away and might never return.

As they were nearing the outskirts of Hope Springs, he said, “I had a wonderful time today.”

“I’m glad.”

“Meeting your family has changed my perception of the Amish in many ways.”

“For the better or for the worse?”

“For the better. But I haven’t figured out one thing.”

“What?”

“Without TV or radio, how do they keep up on the baseball scores?”

Amber started giggling. “The Amish do love baseball. You’ll find games being played in all the districts during the summer. While interest in such worldly things is forbidden, you can find many of the young boys gathered around a radio in someone’s store when a professional game is on, with the occasional elder shopping near by. The local newspapers have a sports section for those not willing to risk the censure.”

“Ah.”

“Dr. White—”

“Please, call me Phillip.”

“Very well, Phillip.”

“I know what you’re going to ask. I’m afraid the answer is still no.”

Deflated, Amber didn’t know how to respond. She was out of arguments. Driving into the clinic parking lot, she stopped the car and turned toward him. “I’m still glad you enjoyed your visit with my family.”

“They have a special charm, don’t they? Not only your family but all the Amish. They coexist peacefully in a world that is anything but peaceful. They turn their backs on the basic modern inventions most Americans can’t live without, yet they thrive and are happy in their small world.”

“Everything they do, everything in their daily lives, is a direct reflection of how they interpret the Bible.”

“It’s very thought-provoking. Your grandmother’s explanation for why they don’t use electricity made a lot of sense.”

“I imagine she said if electricity comes to a house then all sorts of things come with it, things that pull a family apart. Instead of spending the evening together, they turn on the TV and tune out what is happening around them. Another
person may go away to listen to the radio or use a computer. Still another chats on the phone instead of with the family.”

“Right, and before long it isn’t a family anymore. It has become a group of strangers living in the same house. I’ve seen the truth of that in my own life, but I still couldn’t live the way the Amish do.”

“Nor could I, but my respect for their culture is bone-deep.”

After a long pause, he said, “I see you inherited your wisdom and strength from your grandmother.”

Looking down, Amber shook her head. “I’m not sure I have wisdom, but I do have stubbornness.”

“I’ve noticed, but you are passionate, too, in your defense of these people. I think that’s a rare thing.”

His soft tone made her look up. When she did, he reached out and gently touched her cheek. “Thanks for a great evening.”

Blushing, she shrugged. “And I didn’t even have to cook.”

Don’t get sappy. Don’t read more into his touch. Don’t think about kissing him. He’s your boss.

Looking away, she noticed a light still on in the clinic. “Wilma must be working late.”

He withdrew his hand. “Does she do that often?”

“Once a month or so she stays late to catch up on filing and to get old charts ready to be shipped to the storage facility.”

“Maybe we should give her a hand after goofing off most of the day.”

“Maybe we should.” Anything to escape the close intimacy of sitting in the car with him. The scent of his sandalwood cologne stirred her, making her anxious to get away.

Quickly, she pushed open the car door and got out. As she headed for the clinic, he fell into step beside her. When they entered, they found Wilma sealing several cardboard boxes
with packing tape. Her disapproval when she caught sight of them was all too easy to read.

Amber felt like a teenager who’d been caught coming home after curfew.

Phillip didn’t look troubled in the least. Glancing at the files stacked on her desk and the number of boxes, he said, “I didn’t know you had this much work to do. You shouldn’t have to work late.”

“I’ve been managing this office for thirty-four years. Your grandfather never complained about my working late.”

“I’m not complaining. I hate to see you doing this by yourself. You should have called us to come back.”

“Then you should keep your cell phone turned on.”

“What?” Reaching for the phone in his pocket, he lifted it up to the light. “It’s dead. Wilma, I’m so sorry. Did we have patients? You should have gotten me by calling Amber.”

“No patients, just phone calls.”

As if on cue, the telephone on the desk rang. She answered it, spoke briefly, then held it out toward Phillip. “It’s your grandfather. Again. And he’s not happy.”

P
hillip picked up the phone. “Harold, is something wrong?”

“I’ll say there is! What on earth do you think you’re doing, running my practice into the ground?”

Phillip held the phone away from his ear until the shouting decreased in volume. It was then he caught Wilma’s self-satisfied smirk. When she realized he was staring at her, she began working industriously.

Speaking into the phone once more, Phillip said, “Harold, I’d rather have this conversation in my office. I’m going to put you on hold.”

Some muttering started. Phillip ignored it and pushed the button. Amber moved to stand beside him, a look of worry clouding her eyes. “Is he all right?”

“Once he’s finished reading me the riot act, I think he will be.”

“Do you think he’s heard about the Amish avoiding us?”

“That would be my guess. Go home, both of you. I’ll lock up.”

“But I have work to finish,” Wilma said.

He scowled in her direction. “It can wait.”

“Very well.” Rolling her eyes, she gathered her purse and headed for the front door.

His annoyance faded as he transferred his gaze to Amber. “You go home, too. I can handle this.”

“Are you sure?”

He wasn’t. He wanted her to stay. He wanted her help in calming Harold. He just wanted her near him.

For a moment, he wavered, but in the end realized this trouble was of his own making. His principles were under fire. He was the one who needed to face the music.

“Go on home, Amber. I’ll be fine.”

Amber left the building reluctantly. Looking over her shoulder, she said, “I hope Harold isn’t too upset.”

“Oh, he is.” Wilma confirmed Amber’s fears.

“You talked to him?”

“Yes. Someone had let him know how things were being handled here. I spoke the truth when he asked me about it.”

“You told him we were being boycotted? Why would you do that? You know he needs to rest and recuperate.”

Wilma dismissed Amber’s concern with a wave of her hand. “Harold already knew. I just wish Surfer Dude Doc had never found Harold. Things were fine the way they were. Don’t worry, Amber. I have a feeling you’ll be seeing patients again in no time.”

Wilma got into her car and drove off, leaving Amber staring after her. Torn between leaving and staying to hear what Phillip had to say, Amber decided it was best to go home. Phillip and Harold deserved their privacy. She drove back to her house with a million questions swirling through her brain.

When she reached home, the cat greeted her at the door. As usual, Fluffy was more interested in his bowl being filled than granting affection. Keeping his mistress company went by the
wayside when there was kibble available. When his belly was full, he’d be all about purring and wanting attention.

Tossing her handbag on the dining room table, Amber checked her message machine. It showed a big fat zero. It seemed she wasn’t as popular as Dr. White.

In the kitchen, she put the kettle on and grabbed a box of tea from the cupboard. She was pouring the hot water into her cup when her doorbell rang.

When she opened the door, she saw Phillip standing on her steps. In her heart, she had been hoping he would come.

Looking tired and frustrated, he said, “I didn’t know where else to go.”

She took a step back. “Come in. I just made some chamomile tea. Would you like some?”

“Sounds great, thank you.” He followed her into the kitchen and took a seat on one of the bistro chairs at her small round glass table near the bay window.

Fluffy came over to investigate the new visitor. Purring loudly, he wound in and around Phillip’s ankles. Phillip picked him up and scratched behind his ears, a maneuver Fluffy loved.

“If he bothers you I can put him up.” Amber fixed Phillip his tea and carried it to him.

“No, I like cats. Is this the well-named Fluffy?”

“It is. Of all the animals I’ve fostered, I like him the best.”

Handing Phillip his cup, she sat down opposite him. “What did Harold have to say?”

Phillip put Fluffy on the floor. “The gist was that if I can’t run his clinic any better than this, I need to go back where I belong.”

“That was harsh and not like Harold.”

Propping his elbows on the table, Phillip said, “I spoke to his primary doctor after Harold hung up on me. His doctor
says he’s been improving rapidly when he isn’t worried about his patients here. His doctor and I are both afraid this may trigger a setback.”

“Oh, no. I was worried about that, too.”

“So you weren’t the person who called and updated him on our troubles.”

Scowling, she retorted, “No.”

“I didn’t think so.”

Somewhat mollified, Amber said, “It wasn’t Wilma, either.”

“Rats. She was at the top of my list.”

“It doesn’t matter who called him.”

“Maybe not, but I’d like to find out who it was.”

“If you leave, we’ll go under anyway.”

“It seems we can’t stay afloat with or without me. I came here to help my grandfather. I owed him that much. I’m even beginning to understand why he feels so protective of these people, why he loves the simplicity and peaceful lives they lead. But instead of helping him out, I’ve made things worse.”

She wanted to take Phillip’s hand, to reach out and hold him and offer him comfort, but she didn’t dare. She had no idea where such a move would lead. Her attraction to this man was simply too strong. The last thing she wanted was for him to find out how she felt.

After taking a sip of her tea, she asked, “What are your plans? Will you leave?”

“That may depend on you.”

Taken aback, she frowned. “What do you mean?”

He hesitated and suddenly she knew. Happiness surged through her veins. “You’re going to sign a collaborative practice agreement with me.”

“Yes, but before you start doing the happy dance, I’ve got a few restrictions.”

Her scowl came back. “Such as?”

“I’ll allow home births as long as I’m in attendance. If I’m going to be ultimately responsible for these women and their babies, I want to be there.”

This was the last thing she expected. “Let me get this straight; I can do home deliveries, but you have to be there?”

“Yes.”

“What about my prenatal and postnatal visits, the birthing classes I hold here and my seeing women at the clinic?”

“All those things can continue. After every delivery, I want to see both mother and baby at the clinic within two days.”

“Harold liked to see them at two weeks unless there were problems. Remember, these women have to come by horse and buggy, not in a comfortable car.”

“All right, I’ll compromise and say one week.”

Rising, she carried her cup to the sink and poured out her tea. “What makes you think you’re more capable of delivering a baby than I am?”

“I’m an MD.”

Spinning around, she glared at him. “How many babies have you delivered?”

“Fifty-four.”

“Fifty-four compared to my five hundred and two. You’re asking me to give up my autonomy, to project the image that I can’t do my job. Why would I want you tagging along?”

“So that you
can
do your job. Being a midwife is what you love, isn’t it? I’m offering you the opportunity to get back to it.”

Crossing her arms, she leaned back against the sink. “
Will
you let me do my job? Or will you interfere if you see something you don’t like?”

“You can do your thing as long as no lives are endangered. If we can’t agree on this, it won’t matter anyway.”

He was right. Amber considered her options. If she didn’t work with Phillip, she would remain out of business until Harold returned.
If
he returned.

She had to admit she’d known for some time that Harold needed a partner. He was getting on in years. Finding another doctor who allowed home deliveries would take time. Time she would not have if the clinic went under.

Staring at the tips of her shoes, she said, “Dr. White, I accept your proposal under one condition.”

“What’s that?”

She looked up. “That you begin searching for someone to take over the practice in the event Harold can’t return.”

“I’ve been doing that.”

“I don’t mean temporary help.”

“You mean someone with the same Amish-friendly philosophy that Harold has?”

“Yes.”

“I can’t guarantee we can find someone or that he or she will permit home deliveries.”

“I’ll face that when I come to it. This town needs a full-time doctor.”

They were both silent for several long seconds. Amber suspected they were thinking the same thing. She asked, “Shall we arm wrestle to see who gets to mention this to Harold?”

A touch of humor glinted in Phillip’s eyes. “I’m good with that.”

“I was kidding.”

“I’m not.”

She leveled her most serious gaze at him. “Your mission, Dr. White, should you accept it, is to convince your grandfather that he needs a partner.”

“Will this message self-destruct in five seconds?”

“No. I will be here to remind you constantly that God never
gives us more than we can bear.” A smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

“I still think the suggestion would be better coming from you.”

“No.”

He crossed his arms. “From both of us then.”

“Maybe, but you first,” she insisted.

Rolling his eyes, he said, “I’ve already mentioned something like that once.”

“And how did that go over?” she asked with interest.

He shook his head. “Not well.”

Her smile vanished. “You’ll simply have to keep after him. If he doesn’t agree, our clinic could be without a doctor in a few more years. I pray that doesn’t happen for a long time, but I have to be practical.”

“I’m not sure you know what you’re asking me to do.”