A Merry Heart (14 page)

Maybe it’s just the shock of being told the extent of Rebekah’s injuries that has me feeling so quivery
, she told herself.
I’m sure I’ll calm down once the aspirin takes effect and my headache eases.

Thinking he might be able to read Miriam’s thoughts, Nick glanced over at her and said, “Don’t worry. You’re safe with me. No harm will come to you, because you’re a fair lady, and I’m your knight in shining armor.”

Her cheeks flamed, but she silently turned her head toward the window.

Nick figured she probably needed some time to let the aspirin take effect and realize that he wasn’t planning to take advantage of her. When they pulled into a parking place at the city park a short time later, he rolled down the window to let in some fresh air.

“Thanks for taking the time to meet me,” she said. “I’m sure you’re a busy man.”

He shrugged. “I was about to call it a day anyhow. So, tell me what’s happened. Why were you at the hospital again?”

“It is my niece Rebekah. She’s been seriously injured, and I’m afraid it’s my fault.”

“What happened?” Nick asked as he reached for the notepad he kept tucked inside his window visor.

Miriam seemed to barely notice that he’d taken a pen from his pocket and was prepared to take notes as she continued her story.

“The storm was just beginning when my students headed for home. I told my niece I would give her a ride, and she asked if she could wait outside for me.” She drew in a quick breath. “I asked her to get into the buggy and said I would be there soon, but I never thought about the fact that I’d parked my buggy under a tree this morning.” She paused for another breath. “Then I heard this terrible snapping sound followed by a scream. I rushed outside and found Rebekah on the ground with a heavy branch lying across her back.”

“A branch broke and fell on the child?”

She nodded, as tears pooled in her eyes.

“What happened next?”

Miriam sat up straight and blinked a couple of times as she pointed to his notebook. “You–you’re writing this down?”

He nodded. “Please go on. It’s a newsworthy item, and I think—”

“I will not go on! I didn’t ask you to meet me so you
could write a story for your newspaper. When you offered to help before, I thought that included a listening ear.”

“I have been listening. The thing is, reporting the news is what I do, so—”

“I think you’d better take me back to the hospital now. I can see what a mistake this has been. I should never have phoned or asked you to meet me.”

“Don’t get into such a huff.” Nick placed the notebook on the seat and returned the pen to his shirt pocket. “I won’t write down another thing, Miriam. I didn’t think you were going to get so riled up about this. I’m a reporter, so it was only natural for me to take notes on something that seemed like a good story. I’m sorry if I’ve offended you.”

Miriam stared at her hands, clenched tightly in her lap. “I’m not sure I believe you. Maybe you’re not the one I should be talking to right now.”

“Of course I am.” He slipped his arm across Miriam’s shoulder, thinking a quick hug might let her know he was sincere. “I’d like to be your friend, Miriam, if you’ll let me.”

Her lower lip quivered, and when he wrapped both of his arms around her, he felt hot tears against his cheek. “I—I appreciate that,” she murmured, “because a friend is exactly what I need right now.”

Amos sat at the kitchen table, watching Mary Ellen eat her bowl of vegetable soup while he struggled to eat his own. He had no appetite for food and dreaded having to tell his daughter about her friend’s accident. But he knew she would learn about it when she went to school tomorrow,
and he didn’t want her to find out that way.

He cleared his throat a couple of times, searching for the right words. “There’s. . .uh. . .something I need to tell you, Mary Ellen.”

She placed her spoon on the table and stared at him with a quizzical expression. “What is it, Pappy? How come you look so
bedauerlich
?”

“I’m feeling a bit sad because one of your friends from school is in the hospital.”

Her eyebrows lifted high on her forehead. “Who’s in the hospital?”

“Rebekah Stoltzfus.”

“How come? Is she sick?”

He shook his head. “After school let out and you and the rest of the kinner had already gone, Rebekah was hit by a tree limb while she waited for Miriam to give her a ride home.”

The creases in Mary Ellen’s forehead deepened. “Was Rebekah hurt bad? Is—is she gonna be okay?”

Amos groaned inwardly as he pictured Rebekah’s still, small frame lying on the ground with a heavy limb pinning her down. He’d seen blood on her head and knew that wasn’t good. How he wished he could think of something to tell Mary Ellen that might offer hope that her friend would be all right. But the truth was, it didn’t look good for Rebekah Stoltzfus, and he feared she might not make it.

“Pappy?” Mary Ellen’s voice quavered. “Rebekah won’t die, will she?”

He reached across the table and took hold of her hand, squeezing it gently. “I haven’t heard from anyone since
they took her to the hospital, so I don’t know how badly she was hurt.”

Mary Ellen pulled her hand away and jumped up, nearly knocking over her chair. “I want to see her, Pappy. Can we go to the hospital right now so I can talk to Rebekah and find out how she’s doin’?”

Amos shook his head. “Rebekah was knocked unconscious when the limb fell from the tree, and I’m sure the doctors are busy running tests on her.”

Mary Ellen’s eyes filled with tears, and several splashed onto her flushed cheeks. “Is—is Rebekah goin’ to heaven, the way Mama did?”

“I don’t know,” Amos replied honestly. “But I do know that she’s in good hands at the hospital, and I’m certain that the doctors and nurses are doing everything they can. We just need to pray.”

“I prayed for Mama, and God took her from us anyway,” Mary Ellen said tearfully. It was the first time since Ruth’s death that the child had shown such emotion, and Amos was at a loss for words.

Mary Ellen’s shoulders shook, and convulsing sobs wracked her little body. “If God takes Rebekah away, I don’t think I’ll ever forgive Him!” She rushed out of the room, and Amos heard her footsteps clomp up the stairs.

Dear Lord
, he prayed,
please let Rebekah be all right, and if You choose to take her home, then I’m asking You to help my little girl in dealing with it.

I
can see that you really do need to talk, and I’m more than willing to listen,” Nick assured Miriam. “No more note-taking, I promise.”

She nodded slowly. “All right. As I was about to say, the tree branch broke, and it landed across Rebekah’s head and back. Amos came along soon after, and he went to call for help.”

“Who’s Amos?”

“He’s the father of one of my students. When the ambulance arrived, I rode to the hospital with Rebekah, and then Amos went to tell my brother Andrew and his wife, who are Rebekah’s parents, what had happened.”

“What’s the child’s prognosis—her condition?”

“I know what
prognosis
means,” she said in a tone of irritation.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to sound condescending.” He squeezed her shoulder. “Now, would you please continue with the story?”

She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. “The doctor said Rebekah has a concussion, and that’s the reason she’s still unconscious.”

“Guess that’s understandable.”

“He also said there’s some injury to her spinal cord.” Miriam gulped. “Rebekah will probably never walk again.”

“Doctors have been known to be wrong,” Nick said, thinking his optimism might offer some hope.

“I’m praying for a miracle, but—”

“Oh, that’s right, you Amish believe in all that faith stuff, don’t you?” Nick wrinkled his nose. “I’ve never held much stock in any kind of religious conviction.”

Miriam frowned. “Faith in God is biblical, Mr. McCormick. It’s not just the Amish who believe God is in control of their lives, either.”

“Come on now, Miriam. I don’t agree with you on something, and now it’s back to calling me Mr. McCormick. Is that how it is?”

“I think I was wrong in expecting you to help me sort out my feelings. You’re just trying to confuse me.”

“Not at all,” Nick said with a shake of his head. “I admire you for your faith, but it’s just not for me. I’m not one to put others down for their beliefs, but I don’t want to rely on anyone but myself. I don’t need God or faith.”

Miriam stared at her cup of iced tea. “You must think I’m pretty old-fashioned—in appearance as well as in my ideas.”

Nick took the iced tea from her and placed it in the cup holder on the dash. “I’m not trying to confuse you, but I’m afraid you have confused me.”

“How have I confused you?”

Nick leaned close to her. “I find you to be quite fascinating, Miriam, yet your ways are a bit strange to me and hard
to understand. I’d like to find out more about you and your Amish traditions.”

“What would you like to know?”

“I know you’re expected to remain separate from the rest of the world, but I don’t grasp the reasons behind such a lifestyle.”

“The Bible tells us that we must present our bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God. It also states that we are not to be conformed to this world, but rather that we be transformed by the renewing of our minds,” Miriam said. “In 2 Corinthians it says that we are not to be unequally yoked together with unbelievers. Our entire lifestyle—our dress, language, work, travel, and education are the things we must consider because of this passage in the Bible. We must not be like the rest of the world. We must live as simply and humbly as possible.”

“So, things like telephones in your homes, electricity, cars, and gas-powered tractors are worldly and would cause you to be part of the modern world?”

She nodded. “To some, it may seem as if our religion is harsh and uncompromising, but all baptized members are morally committed to the church and its rules.”

“It sounds pretty hard to live like that, but I suppose if you’re content and feel that your way of life makes you happy, then who am I to say it’s wrong?”

Miriam was on the verge of telling Nick she was anything but happy and content, but she decided those words were best left unspoken. Besides, if she had discussed that issue
with him, she would have been forced to deal with the nagging doubts that so often swirled in her head.

“I really would like to help you, Miriam,” Nick said.

“What kind of help do you have to offer?”

“It sounds to me like your niece is going to be in the hospital for quite a while, and she will no doubt require a lot of physical therapy and medical care.”

Miriam nodded. “I suppose so.”

“That will cost a lot of money.”

“Jah, I suppose it will.”

“If I wrote an article for the newspaper about the girl’s accident, I’m sure a lot of people would respond to it.”

“Respond how?”

“With financial help.”

“I’m sure you mean well, Nick, but the cost of Rebekah’s medical needs isn’t my only concern. Our community has a fund we use when someone has a need, and we will probably have some fundraisers to help, as well.”

“I see.”

“My mother will no doubt mention Rebekah’s accident in her next newspaper article, so my brother’s family will probably receive money from some of
The
Budget
readers, too.”

“Sounds like the Amish take good care of one another.”

“We do our best.” Miriam grimaced. “I’m just sick about the accident, and I blame myself for it.”

“Come now. There was no way you could have known a tree limb would fall on the child when she went outside to wait for you. You can’t blame yourself for a freak accident caused by an act of nature.” Nick touched his finger against her trembling lips. “If you want my opinion, I think
the best thing you can do is face this situation head-on. In matters such as this, no amount of faith in God will get you through. I believe we all have the inner strength to deal with the problems life brings our way.”

An unbidden tear slid down Miriam’s cheek. Hadn’t she decided awhile back that her own determined heart was all she could count on? Perhaps Nick was right. Had faith in God prevented Rebekah’s terrible accident, kept Papa from dying, or stopped William from falling in love with another woman? Miriam had dutifully served God all of her twenty-six years, only to end up an old-maid schoolteacher with no father, no husband, and a crippled niece to remind her that God had let her down yet again.

She looked at Nick, so obviously sure of himself, and resolved that she, too, could face life head-on and find her own inner strength.

With a lift of her chin, Miriam said, “I’m ready to go back to the hospital now.”

“Sure, okay.” Nick smiled. “I’ve enjoyed being with you, Miriam. Maybe we can get together again.”

Miriam returned his smile, feeling as if a special kind of friendship was taking root in her heart.

“Do you have a phone on your property like some Amish folks do?”

She shook her head. “Why do you ask?”