Amish Country Box Set: Restless Hearts\The Doctor's Blessing\Courting Ruth (13 page)

Terry’s blue eyes were dark with concern. “Bumps and bruises, mainly. Shaken and scared.” She straightened, turning her head and lowering her voice. “She’s holding her belly, terrified for the baby. We’d best take her in, I think. Maybe you’ll have better luck than I have at reassuring her.”

Nodding, Fiona edged past her in the narrow confines of the unit to take Terry’s place at the side of the stretcher. She knelt, clasping Miriam’s hand. The girl was pale, her blue eyes wide with shock, as she clung to Fiona’s hand.

“Miriam, I’m here. We’re going to take good care of you. We want to take you into the hospital. Is that okay?”

“If you say so,” Miriam whispered. “My Jacob, is he all right?”

Fiona glanced toward Terry, who nodded as she closed the rear doors.

“He’s fine,” Terry said. “One of the officers is going to drive him to the hospital, while Fiona and I stay here with you.”

Miriam nodded. She was pale, sweating, and her hand kept going to her abdomen. “My baby,” she murmured, her voice fading as if she didn’t want to ask the question.

Fiona looked up at Terry again. “Vitals?”

“Everything okay, but—” Terry shook her head. Obviously her instincts, like Fiona’s, told her something more was wrong. “See if you can get her to talk to you.”

Fiona held Miriam’s hand between both of hers. “Miriam, you have to tell us what’s wrong, so we can help you. It’s all right. Honestly.”

Tears spilled over on the girl’s ashen cheeks. “Cramps,” she whispered. “I kept having them today. I’m afraid for the baby. That’s where we were going. I told Jacob he must take me to you.”

Her heart clutched. Cramping happened sometimes early in pregnancy with no ill effect, but she didn’t like it, not combined with the accident and the way Miriam acted.

“Okay, I’m just going to have a quick look. You hold on. We’ll be at the hospital soon.” She maneuvered to the foot of the stretcher as Terry slapped the door that led to the cab of the unit.

“Hit the siren, Jeff.”

The van accelerated, swaying a little, as the siren started to wail. Fiona pushed Miriam’s dark skirt aside, moving gently, and saw what she feared she’d see.

Her gaze met Terry’s over the patient, and it was as if they could read each other’s thoughts. The siren’s wail was like a mournful cry, echoing the pain in her heart.

* * *

Ted stalked down the hospital corridor. Ironic. He’d ended up bringing the driver of the car to the same hospital where Miriam was being treated, but in his case it was for a blood alcohol test. A salesman, the driver had been out celebrating a big sale and decided to take a shortcut back to Suffolk. He must have been ripping along the dark country road. The buggy hadn’t had a chance.

Ted would never be able to prove the speed, of course, with no witnesses, but the lack of skid marks told the story, and the results of the blood alcohol test would seal the case.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t going to ease the pain Miriam and her husband were feeling.

He rounded a corner, hesitated, and then went forward. Miriam’s and Jacob’s parents waited, faces stoic, eyes bright with unshed tears. They must know what he’d just been told. Miriam had lost the baby.

“Joseph. Anna.” Ted nodded toward the other set of parents, whom he didn’t know as well as he did Jacob’s family. “I’m very sorry.”

“It is in God’s hands,” Joseph said. He clasped work-hardened hands together. His wife nodded, but Ted could feel her grief.

“Are you waiting to see Miriam?”

“The midwife is with her now.” Joseph gestured slightly toward the door opposite them.

It stood ajar, and the tableau he saw made his breath catch. In the pool of light from a fixture above the bed, Fiona leaned forward, holding Miriam’s hand, talking earnestly to her. Even in profile, he could see the warmth and caring that flowed from her toward the girl on the bed.

Jacob stood on the other side, head bent. Tears trickled into his beard, but he nodded, as if taking comfort from Fiona’s words.

His throat tightened. Fiona had so much caring and devotion to give. This had to be tearing her up, too.

She moved, apparently catching sight of those who waited, and stood. She said something else, to the couple, and then bent to press her cheek against Miriam’s before straightening and walking toward them.

She nodded to the parents, holding the door open so that they could file through. He heard Miriam give a soft cry at the sight of her mother, and the door swung shut, closing the family in, leaving him and Fiona alone in the hallway.

“Ted.” Her voice trembled on the edge of tears. She wiped her eyes with her fingers. “I can’t even begin to imagine—” She looked around blindly.

His heart twisted with pity. “Here.” He grasped her arm and steered her toward a nearby door. “Let’s go in the lounge.”

Fortunately the room was empty. A lamp on the pale wood end table illuminated a hard-looking couch and a straight-backed chair. A few old magazines were strewn on a coffee table. He led her to the couch.

“Relax a minute. There’s nothing else you can do for her now.”

She sank down, covering her face with her hands. “There was nothing I could do at all. Terry and I were right there, but we couldn’t save the pregnancy.”

Anger burned along his veins. “The accident—”

“The accident didn’t cause the miscarriage.” She looked up at him and shoved her hair back with her fingers. Her eyes were red, but she seemed under control. “It would be unlikely, since the baby’s so well protected at this early stage. Miriam told me she was
already having cramping. Jacob was bringing her to see me when the car hit them.”

Her lips trembled, and she pressed them tightly together.

He sat down next to her. “I wish it could have had a happier outcome for them. And for you.” That was as close as he could come to comforting her.

“I don’t matter,” she said quickly. “But Miriam—well, I tried to reassure her. The obstetrician from the birthing center will check her out as well, but I don’t see any reason why she shouldn’t have a successful pregnancy the next time.”

“That’s good news.”

She nodded, but anger flickered in her eyes. “I hope it doesn’t make things any easier for the driver. He can’t be held responsible for the miscarriage, but he ought to spend time inside a cell for this.”

“He’ll be prosecuted, believe me.” Almost without willing it, his hand had covered hers where it lay on the couch between them. “I have enough evidence, which is fortunate because Jacob and Miriam won’t testify against him.”

“Won’t testify?” She turned a fiery gaze on him. “What do you mean?”

“Just that.” He understood, but it didn’t make his job any easier. “It’s not the Amish way. They’ll forgive, and they won’t turn to the law. Even if they were actively being persecuted, they would leave rather than fight back. It’s a matter of religious conviction with them.”

The anger drained away from her expression, leaving her pale and tired looking. “I guess maybe I need to work a little harder on the forgiveness aspect of being a Christian. Right now I can only ask God why this happened.”

His fingers curled around hers. “I don’t think He minds a few honest questions. Or even a little honest anger. At least I hope not, or I’m in trouble.”

“Is that part of why you left the Amish community?” She turned slightly toward him, and for the first time he felt as if the barriers between them had weakened.

“Among other things.” He shook his head. “I can never leave entirely. It’s a part of me, even though I can’t live the life.”

“You’re doing a balancing act between two worlds.” She said what he had often thought, and it moved and startled him that the understanding could come from someone he thought of as an outsider.

“That’s it. Sometimes I feel as if I really am one of the ‘world people.’ And then I’ll hear someone blaming the Amish for causing accidents by driving buggies on public roads—”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Yes.” He felt the conviction harden in him. “Driving under the influence caused tonight’s accident, and justice will be done because that’s the law, not because I know and care about the folks who were injured.”

“You can’t stop caring.” Her hand turned so that their palms touched, their fingers entwining, and her warmth flowed through that touch.

“No, I can’t.” He barely murmured the words.

Something—her closeness, the silent room, the touch of her hand—was making him loosen the grip he kept on his emotions. His gaze met hers, and he felt as if he were drowning in the cool gray depths of her eyes. “Fiona—”

It was no good. Nothing rational would come out of his mouth. Instead, all he wanted to do was follow his instinct. And instinct meant touching the curve of her smooth cheek, tilting her face toward his, covering her lips with his.

For an instant she seemed to hold back. And then she leaned into the embrace, her hand moving on his arm in a gentle caress. Tenderness flooded through him, and for a dizzying moment he thought he’d be content to stay this way for hours.

Unfortunately, reason clamored to be heard. This was a public room, and someone could walk in at any moment. He pressed his cheek against hers and then reluctantly drew back.

“I guess this isn’t the right place,” he murmured.

She looked dazed for an instant. Then she shook her head, as if needing to clear it, and managed to smile coolly, as if they hadn’t just kissed each other senseless.

“I guess not.” She rose, glancing around. “I must have left my bag in the ER. I’d better pick it up and head home.”

He thought of touching her shoulder, but that probably wasn’t a good idea, when it would just make him want to kiss her again. “You don’t have your car here,
remember? I had someone drive it back to your place. I’ll drop you off.”

There was a certain amount of wariness in the look she gave him, but she nodded. Well, he could understand that, because he felt the same. He needed to do some serious thinking before he let this relationship get any deeper.

But as he followed Fiona out into the hospital corridor, he knew he couldn’t kid himself about one thing. He’d begun to care about her, maybe too much, and he couldn’t do a thing about that.

Chapter Nine

F
iona stood in the afternoon sunshine on her porch, trying not to grin like an idiot as the latest of a flow of new patients climbed into the waiting black buggy. Five new patients in the past few days, and four of them were Amish.

Still smiling, she turned to look at the carved wooden sign beside her door: Fiona Flanagan, Nurse-Midwife. Was it her imagination, or did it glow a bit brighter today?

“Is something wrong with the sign?”

Ted’s voice broke into her mood, but instead of shattering it, it just made her more optimistic. Cautious, but optimistic.

“Not at all. I was admiring it.”

She turned to find him in that familiar posture, one foot planted on the step, his hand braced against the porch railing. He was in uniform, the light-gray shirt fitting snugly across his broad shoulders. The slant of sunlight brought out gold flecks in his brown hair. He
looked good—good enough that she had to suppress the urge to put her arms around him.

She hadn’t seen him for several days—not since that kiss at the hospital, in fact.

His gaze was focused on the sign, not on her. Did that imply that the memory made him uneasy or that he wanted to forget what had happened between them?

“It’s not a bad piece of work, though I sound prideful when I say it.”

“I take it ‘prideful’ is a no-no in the Amish world.”

“You take it correctly.” He smiled suddenly, the movement rearranging the hard planes of his face into something more approachable. “Although if polishing a buggy until it shines or stitching the most perfect quilt doesn’t involve a tiny bit of pride, I’ll eat my hat.”

The smile nearly undid her, setting up ripples of warmth that had nothing to do with the sunshine. “I guess saying the words out loud is the problem.” She flicked a bit of dust from the carved letters. “Actually, I was thinking that maybe the sign isn’t so much a hope as a reality, the way things are going.”

“New clients?” He leaned against the railing, apparently in no hurry to move on.

She couldn’t suppress the grin. “Five of them, and four are Amish.” She spread her hands wide. “I don’t understand it. Really, I don’t. And it’s not just the new clients. In the past couple of days, people have suddenly started greeting me on the street as if I’ve been here for years. It’s great, but a little unnerving.”

She was looking to Ted for answers, she realized. Somehow she’d started depending on him for an interpretation of all the things she didn’t understand in this new life of hers. Usually that realization would be a signal to run in the opposite direction, but she didn’t feel like running.

His eyebrows lifted. “You honestly don’t get it? It’s because of Miriam.”

“Miriam? But why? I didn’t even succeed in saving her pregnancy.”

Sorrow touched her, and the knowledge that no one could have done better didn’t remove the sadness, although maybe it made it a little easier to bear.

He studied her face. “You’ve been out to the farm, I hear. How is she doing?”

“Physically, she’s recovering nicely. Emotionally—” She could hear the frustration in her own voice. “I’ve tried to counsel her as I would any patient who’s suffered a miscarriage.”

“Is that a problem?”

She shrugged. “She’s been reluctant to talk. I think her feelings are at war with accepting God’s will. If she doesn’t want to talk to me, that’s fine, but she should talk to someone.”

“Her sister’s going to stay with her for a while. Maybe that will help.” He smiled. “I know that was your suggestion. You aren’t angry that Aaron told me that, are you? I mean with patient-doctor privilege and all…”

“I guess not.” An answering smile tugged at her lips. “How do you know everything that happens?”

“Gossip,” he said. “It’s invaluable to a cop. I just wish it would turn up those vandals for me. So you shouldn’t wonder about your five new patients. Everyone knows how kind you were.”

“I only did what any midwife would do.”