Anna's Healing (23 page)

None of which stopped Erin. She simply reached for the lotion and began rubbing it methodically into Anna's hands and arms and legs and feet.

“Did you read through the magazine the doctor sent? Exercise promotes neural recovery—”

“It's hopeless,
Aenti
.”

“And it reduces the risk of secondary complications.”

Anna stopped arguing. No one listened. No one understood what it was like to be her, to be trapped in her chair and to have no hope for a normal future.

Erin finished with the lotion and moved on to the physical therapy. She began to move Anna's right leg through the range-of-motion exercises. Anna watched but didn't speak, didn't actually participate in any way. It was like watching someone else's legs being pushed and pulled. By the time Erin had finished with both legs, Samuel appeared and moved her to the floor.

Anna didn't put her arms around his neck as she usually did. Instead, she sat on the rag rug
Mammi
had crocheted and stared at the wall on the other side of the room. She didn't want to meet her uncle's gaze. She didn't want to see the compassion on his face. It would be her undoing. Once her tears started, she would drown in them.

“Having a hard afternoon?”

Erin answered when Anna wouldn't. “
Ya
, but the exercises always help, and Jacob said that tomorrow is supposed to be sunny. This rain can pull anyone's emotions down.”

“But it's
gut
for the crops.” Samuel touched Erin's arm, and then he walked out of the room, whistling one of the hymns from Sunday's service.

Had it been just Sunday that Anna had shared those special
moments with Jacob? Though he appeared at breakfast every morning, they hadn't spent any other time together. On Tuesday he'd suggested they go to look at the corn maze that had been replanted, but she'd refused. Already her mood had been plummeting.

At times like this, she would have an outburst, followed by moments of silence. She couldn't help the fact that she clammed up. It was as if she had no words left, no more cries of despair.

She went through her routine with the stretchy band and small weights. She performed the shoulder shrugs and deep breathing exercises, though she was convinced they weren't helping at all.

When she'd completed all of the tasks and Erin had placed a check mark beside each one listed on her chart, Samuel again appeared. How did he know when they would be done? She couldn't begin to guess and after her outburst she refused to look him in the eye and ask.

“Wheelchair?” he asked softly.

“
Nein
.”

“Bed, then. Perhaps you need some rest.”

But she didn't rest. She lay in her bed pretending to sleep until she was alone. When he left the room, she stared at the wall and wept for all that might have been.

CHAPTER 34

A
nna woke the following morning as she usually did, to the sound of her
mammi
's voice.

“We call on You, our God, for You will answer us; turn Your ear to us and hear our prayer. Show us the wonders of Your great love.”
Mammi
loved the Psalms. It had been that way since the day Anna first arrived in Oklahoma. She'd barely known her grandmother then. Now she couldn't imagine her life without the dear woman.

She did have things to be grateful for. There had been no nightmares last night. Perhaps she'd been too tired after the emotional low of the day before. The memory of it embarrassed her, and she wondered if she might be able to hide under the quilt all day.

Mammi
had other ideas. “
Gudemariye
, Anna.”

“
Gudemariye
,
Mammi
.” She doubted it would be a good day, but she didn't see how it could be much worse than the day before.

“Some days are difficult,
ya
?”
Mammi
reached for the lotion and began to work it into Anna's right arm. This time the scent of the lemon balm made her think of sun tea and picnics. She relaxed, closed her eyes, and enjoyed the ministrations of her grandmother.

“Other days are better. I think today will be a
gut
day.”

Anna grunted, but she didn't open her eyes. Few days were good days. Some days were less bad than others. It was the most she hoped for.

“Do you believe in miracles, child?”

Anna's eyes popped open, and she stared at her grandmother. What was she asking? What did it have to do with her situation?

“Our
Gotte
is a
Gotte
of miracles.”

Anna shook her head. Miracles? Seriously? She was a paraplegic now, forever confined to her wheelchair. All of her hopes and dreams had been ripped from her. She would probably never marry, probably never have children, probably remain dependent on her family the rest of her life.

Did she believe in miracles? What difference did it make? She hadn't received one.

“I've been reading. The miracles in the Bible occur to a variety of people in very different places.”

Anna wanted to slap her hands over her ears. Why was
Mammi
bringing this up today? Hadn't yesterday been bad enough? She couldn't sit around and hope for a miracle.

No.

Mammi
proceeded to recount the miracles Christ performed as recorded in the book of Matthew, the eighth chapter. The man with leprosy was healed. The centurion's servant was healed. Peter's mother-in-law was healed.

Anna heard her grandmother, but her mind zoomed off in another direction. She could wait on a miracle and pin her hopes on the improbable or the impossible. If she worked at it, she might be able to convince herself that the right lotion or the right herb or the right prayer would make her into the person she had been.

She could, but how many miracles had she seen or heard of in her lifetime?

None.

The wiser course seemed to be to learn to accept the facts of her life. She was unmarried and would remain that way. Jacob's confession of love was touching, but it would be wrong for her to encourage him. Deep down in the pit of her stomach, she knew it was time to accept her life. That was the right course.

Samuel came into the room. “Morning, Anna.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and smiled. He was a good
man and hadn't asked for the troubles he'd received. The least she could do was show her gratitude, and she was thankful for her family and their help.

He carried her to the bathroom and left her alone.

As she went about the business of preparing for another day, her thoughts returned to what
Mammi
had said.

Was God still in the business of miracles?

She honestly didn't know, though it might be an interesting question to ask the bishop. No doubt he would give her a look of pure sympathy. Anna didn't need more incidents of people feeling sorry for her. No, she wouldn't be asking that question of Bishop Levi.

She was twenty-four years old and she was paralyzed. She could sew blankets for needy children. She could bless others in her small way. She could cheerfully do her exercises and be less of a burden on her family. She could make the best of the life that she had.

Anna still didn't know if she would remain in Oklahoma after the harvest or return to Indiana. Her mother and father had promised to visit at that time, and together they would come to a decision. What difference did it make? Life in a wheelchair was her future no matter where she lived.

Mammi
joined her in the bathroom and helped with her socks and shoes. She'd left talk of miracles in the bedroom, and for that Anna was grateful.

She struggled to make it through each day and such lofty thoughts—such theological debates—seemed pointless.

If only she could make her family see her as she actually was. Her
aenti
insisted on talking about her future. Jacob visited each day and looked at her as if she held the secret to his dreams.

And her grandmother? She continued to pray and to believe in Anna's healing.

CHAPTER 35

J
acob understood that the last few days had been particularly hard for Anna. He blamed himself. He shouldn't have pushed. He shouldn't have told her about his feelings, but then again, how could he not? In spite of his worries he whistled as he finished the project he was working on for her. The fields had been too muddy to work in the rain, so there had been plenty of extra time the last few days.

He'd actually thought of the project the week before. While he'd worked outside the barn brushing down the buggy horse, he'd watched Anna. She had sat idly on the porch, staring out toward the garden. Erin and
Mammi
had been weeding around the vegetables, and he'd realized that Anna looked trapped up there in her chair. He'd begun the work that evening.

On Sunday Anna had told him that her days were “very much the same, with little to break up the tedium,” and he'd known that completing the project was the right thing to do. He'd also come up with another idea—one that wasn't yet completed but soon would be.

The day had dawned clear. With Samuel helping, they finished the first job and much of the second by the middle of the afternoon.

“Let's go tell her.” He looked at Samuel, whose boots were caked with mud. “I believe she's sitting on the porch, which is a good thing since Erin would never let you inside with those boots.”

“Your boots don't look any cleaner.” A smile broke across the man's face. “This was a
gut
idea, Jacob. The last few days have been
particularly hard on Anna. Maybe the worst I've seen since she's come home.”

Jacob wondered if that had anything to do with their conversation on Sunday. Maybe, but he still didn't regret it. She couldn't dwell on her injuries forever. She had to begin looking toward the future, and he was determined that her future would be spent by his side.

“This will help.”

“
Ya
, I think so.”

They trudged to the front porch and up the steps. The porch was a wraparound, stretching across the entire west side of the house, which fronted toward the lane, turning at the corner, and continuing across most of the south side of the house. Anna usually came out to the front and sat there watching the yard and looking out toward the lane, which was probably why she hadn't heard what they were doing. If she had, the sound of hammering would have piqued her curiosity, and she would have learned of the surprise before Jacob was ready.

The handicap ramp started at the front of the house, before making a turn and coming to an end on the south side. The ramp itself hadn't been used much, not nearly enough in Jacob's opinion. Anna rarely had a reason to go down it, other than the occasional trip for a doctor's visit. He hoped that was about to change.

“You don't look very busy,” Jacob said.

Anna apparently hadn't noticed their approach. She pulled her gaze from the road toward them. Her hands were idle in her lap.

“Run out of fabric?” Samuel asked.

“
Nein
.
Aenti
and I decided perhaps I should sew in the morning and rest in the afternoon. Perhaps I was pushing too hard and that was the reason for my… moods.” She blushed prettily at the confession.

“Can't sit on the porch and do nothing every afternoon.” Jacob walked up behind her and released the brake on the chair. As he did, Erin and
Mammi
walked out onto the porch.

“About to show Anna her surprise?” Erin crossed her arms and smiled.

“We are,” Samuel grunted. “Might as well make it a family outing.”

“Let me grab my cane.”
Mammi
rarely bothered with the maple
walking stick that the doctor had insisted she use, but the weather had worsened her limp the last few days.

“What surprise?” Anna asked. “Where are we going?”

“Wouldn't be a surprise if we told you.” Jacob brushed her
kapp
strings behind her shoulders. When
Mammi
returned from the sitting room, he pushed her chair down the ramp. They made quite a group with Jacob in front pushing Anna in her wheelchair, followed by Samuel,
Mammi
, and Erin.

At the end of the ramp was a wooden boardwalk.

“When… when did you build this?”

“Last few days,” Samuel said. “We had some leftover lumber in the barn.”

Jacob chuckled. It wasn't exactly a lie, but it was an exaggeration. The leftover timber in the barn had given him the idea. After discussing it with Samuel, he had gone from farm to farm asking for donations of what other folks had left. Because nearly everyone had needed to rebuild something on their property after last year's big storm, most people had a few boards or boxes of nails they were willing to donate.

“We'll need to weatherproof them.” Samuel stuck his thumbs under his suspenders, glancing toward the garden and then back at Anna.