Anna's Healing (25 page)

Chloe's life had changed in many ways since that time—small things, but they made a big difference. She once again was attending church with her mother, and she'd said yes to a handful of dates over the last six months. None of them had turned into anything lasting, but at least she was allowing for the idea that she might fall in love. Anna's accident had reminded her that life was precious and should be lived to the very fullest. Figuring out how to do that was a bit harder.

When they were once again alone, she repositioned her chair and rested her elbows on the counter that extended to the outside of the stand. “I came to visit and bring the fabric, but also because I wanted to see how you were getting on in the stand. You look as if you're doing very well. I'm impressed!”

“If you think I'm impressive here, you should see me in the garden.”

“I'd love that. There is one more reason I came, though. My boss wants me to run another piece on you.”

Anna groaned.

“We always receive a great response from articles about you—”

“People are bound to get tired of the poor handicapped girl story.”

“Actually, you inspire them. Go figure.”

“You're joking.”

“I'm not. Perhaps it's because they don't have to hear your sarcasm.”

Anna cocked her head and tapped a finger against her lips. “I had the perfect response to that, but it was sarcastic. I'll keep it to myself.”

“Will you do the article?”

“I suppose. If it helps you. No pictures, though.”

“I know the drill.”

“And we need to run it by
Onkel
Samuel and get his approval.”

“I already did. He was coming out of the house as I drove up.”

Anna reached forward and flipped the homemade sign to indicate the stand was closed. “You'd better take me in to lunch if I'm going to have the energy to answer your questions.”

Chloe hurried to the back of the stand to help her friend through the door, but she didn't need her help. The boardwalk was finished now, and she was able to maneuver quite well. The only thing she couldn't do on her own was push the chair up the ramp. Her arms weren't quite that strong yet, though at the rate she was improving, Chloe expected Anna would be able to do that soon.

CHAPTER 37

A
nna was happy to help her friend. In truth she didn't mind the interviews much. The Schwartzes didn't receive the
Mayes County Chronicle
, so she never actually saw the pieces. Chloe had offered to bring by a copy, but Anna had joked, “It's hard enough for me to get through doorways in this wheelchair. Add a giant head from seeing my name in print, and I might get stuck.”

No, she didn't see the articles, and she didn't mind answering the questions, but such days always exhausted her in ways that ran deep and touched an old ache. She was grateful when the sun brushed the western horizon and she could go to bed without anyone wondering if something was wrong.

“Remembering is exhausting,
ya
?”
Mammi
sat by her bed, knitting a brightly colored lap blanket.

Anna had a sneaking suspicion the blanket was for her, but she didn't say anything that might spoil the surprise.

“I suppose. Just when I think I'm beginning to accept the way things are, a part of my heart rises up to rebel.”

“Any change is difficult, Anna. Yours more than most.”

They sat in silence for several moments. Anna stared at the wall.
Mammi
continued to knit.

“Usually you ask me to turn out the light when you're tired. Something tells me that tonight you're tired but hesitant to sleep.”

Anna glanced sharply at her grandmother. There was very little that the old dear didn't notice.

“Is it because of the dreams?”

“You know about them?”

“I'm here after you fall asleep and before you wake in the morning. It's one of the great blessings of my life that I can minister to you.” She pulled more yarn from the ball of bright yellow cotton blend with a flick of her wrist. “Of course I know.”

“They don't come every night, but when I'm especially tired, like now, they tend to plague me. It seems as if they play repeatedly in my mind as I lay here, but that's probably my imagination. I read somewhere that you only dream the last few minutes of your sleep.”

“I can't tell you how long or when a dream occurs, but I can tell you that
Gotte
often speaks to us during our dreams.”

“Do you believe that?”

“
Ya
. Says so in the Bible. Abraham, Jacob, Joseph—they all had dreams sent by
Gotte
.”

“Yes, but—”

“Samuel, Daniel, Peter, and Paul too.”

“Those are all men.”

“Pontius Pilate's wife had a dream.”

“I don't think
Gotte
does that anymore.” Anna remembered her grandmother's talk of miracles, but she shied away from that topic. She didn't need one more thing on her mind.

“You think
Gotte
has changed?”

“Well, I don't know if He's changed, but—”

“
Gotte
loves you, Anna. He loves all of His children.”
Mammi
knit another row before turning her eyes toward her granddaughter. “He'll use whatever He wants in order to tell you so.”

“These three dreams aren't about love, though. They're… disturbing.”

“Tell me about them.”

Anna ran her hand over the quilt on her bed. She remembered the dreams, remembered every detail, but where should she start?

“Begin with the one that bothers you the least.”

“That would be the dream about Jacob.”

“
Ya
? It's not unusual for a young woman to dream about a young man, especially when he's as sweet on her as Jacob is on you.”

“I've had the dreams since my time in the hospital, when they gave me medications to keep me asleep. The dream about Jacob… it bothered me more than any other at first because I couldn't remember who he was. When I woke, and
Aenti
mentioned Jacob often, the memories of that day started coming back to me.”

“Go on.”

“I'm lying somewhere, but I don't know where. He is hovering over me, and the look on his face… what I want most is to reach up and assure him that everything will be all right, but I can't move my hands.”

“Often in dreams we move about but are unable to do what we want to do. When I was a young woman, I had a recurring dream that a cake was burning in the oven. I could look in the little window and see it, but I couldn't reach forward, open the oven, and remove it. That dream bothered me something fierce.”
Mammi
raised an eyebrow as she glanced again at Anna. “I hadn't thought of it in years.”

“In this dream, I can hear Jacob whispering that I'll be okay. I want to believe him, but I don't because he is so worried, so concerned. There's fear flooding his eyes, and I know that there is something he's not telling me. Then I ask him to hold my hand and he does. His touch is tender and calming, but the grief never leaves his eyes.”

“I was there when Jacob reached forward to hold your hand. This was a traumatic moment in your life, Anna. Maybe the most traumatic you will ever experience. It's understandable that you would dream of it.”

Anna took a sip from the glass of water on her nightstand. “The second dream is almost silly, but when I'm dreaming it I feel very anxious.”

Mammi
pushed up on the bridge of her glasses and waited.

“I'm sewing a quilt, but I put it together wrong every time. In fact, I'm doing everything wrong. Holding the fabric at an odd angle, using a ridiculously large sewing needle and a tiny amount of thread—I have to bend over to see what I'm doing, and my stitches get smaller and smaller until I can't see them at all.”

“Sounds like some of my early attempts to quilt.”

“Sometimes in the dream—not every time, but sometimes—I'm convinced that it's terribly important for me to finish the quilt, but I can't. I don't have the skills. I can't even stitch a straight line. The strange thing? I know I can't sew even as I pick up the needle and begin. It's unbelievably frustrating.”

Mammi
sighed. “I don't have the gift of interpreting dreams—”

“It's not that kind of dream,
Mammi
.”

“But it seems to me that there might be a deeper meaning to this one than the Jacob dream. The Jacob dream is a remembering, a way to mourn what has happened even as you sleep. This dream of the quilt, it seems as if it might mean something else. Perhaps you should share it with the bishop.”

Anna shrugged. Though she didn't mind sharing such private thoughts with her family, she wasn't sure she wanted to share them with Levi. The man had been a tremendous support to her, but she felt vulnerable when she spoke of such things.

“You said there were three dreams.”

“
Ya
. The last one makes no sense at all. I'm walking through
Aenti
's fields—for some reason I always think of them that way, in the dream, as being
Aenti
's.”

Mammi
had stopped knitting and was now staring at her curiously.

“In front of us, the wildflowers stretch as far as we can see. It's beautiful, and it always fills my heart with… with song, and I know how silly that sounds. I begin to laugh. I'm surprised that the land which
Onkel
works so hard to cultivate is suddenly brimming with color.”

“Are they like the wildflowers we have growing alongside the road?”

“Some are, I suppose. Maybe.” Anna paused, before telling the rest. “But,
Mammi
, they are thick like wheat and the smell is heavenly. A bird chirps nearby, but I can never see it. Even as I'm looking I know that I won't see it and still I search. The bird seems to be following me as I walk through the sea of wildflowers.”

“And then what happens?”

“I look up and see a rainbow. Its colors are amazing. In the dream, I'm surprised to see it, as I don't remember any rain. My heart begins to beat quickly and my palms sweat. Maybe I'm afraid of being lost in
the rows of flowers. But then I look up and see the rainbow. I want to reach out and touch it, but I can't… it's at that point I always wake up.”

Mammi
's voice shook as she turned her gaze to the world outside Anna's window. “The rainbow—it is God's promise to us.
Ya
?”

“I suppose.”

Mammi
clasped her hands in her lap. “Is that the end of it?”

“
Ya
. They sound so simple. I wish I could describe how I felt. Everything is so vivid and real. Sometimes… sometimes those dreams seem more real than the life I'm living.”

Mammi
bowed her head for several moments, not speaking.

Anna flipped over onto her side, which she'd learned to do, though it was an awkward movement and her legs flopped after the rest of her body had turned. She lay there, studying her grandmother.

When
Mammi
opened her eyes, she smiled, reached out, and patted Anna's hand. “Perhaps it will help, now that you have shared your dreams.”

“Maybe. It felt good to talk about them.” She yawned and admitted, “I suppose I'm ready for you to turn out the light, unless you'd like to continue knitting.”

Mammi
reached toward the battery-powered lantern—everyone had agreed that Anna shouldn't have gas lanterns in her room. The batteries had to be recharged, but Chloe happily took two sets home and recharged them each time she visited.

Anna closed her eyes, allowing sleep to claim her as she listened to the sound of her grandmother rocking in the dark.

CHAPTER 38

I
t started as a summer cold the last week of June. A small cough. The occasional low-grade fever, which always broke in the morning. An ache seeping deep into her body.

By the first full week of July, Dr. Hartman was wanting to admit Anna to the hospital, and she was resisting with her last ounce of strength. She couldn't bear to leave her family again. She wouldn't. What difference would it make if she was miserable in the hospital or miserable in her own bed? She cried, pleaded, and eventually won.

Instead, they tried stronger antibiotics. A specially trained nurse arrived with the doctor the next day.

Her name was Mary Jo.

“Hi, Anna. I'm here to help you with your PICC line.”

She was round and pleasant and smiling. More importantly, she was adept at what she was doing.

“First I'll give you a little local anesthetic to numb the skin and tissue.” She donned a pair of plastic gloves from the box kept near Anna's bed. Then she tore open a sterile pad and dabbed at the large vein in her patient's arm above where the elbow was bent.