Pennsylvania Patchwork (7 page)

CHAPTER TWELVE

Esther raced to the kitchen for paper towels to blot the blood dripping from Mamm's forehead.

The knocking on the front door persisted.

“
Himme
l
!” Mamm said. “Answer the door. Where are your manners?”

Esther placed several towels over the bloody gash and guided Mamm's hand to hold them in place. “Press on this,” Esther said. Then she ran to open the door to find an Englischer clad in a button-down shirt, a tie, and khakis. She could tell from his short haircut and preppy attire he was not from around here.

“Yah?” She looked past him to see a sedan parked out front. “Are ya lost?”

“No, I think I have the right place. I'm Larry Haarberg, here to see Holly Fisher.”

Esther recalled his name, a man Holly had met at church.

“She might have mentioned me,” he said, his voice eager. He was a nice-looking fella, she guessed around forty years old. He seemed trustworthy—not a serial killer or burglar. And Esther needed help. It was times like this she wished Mamm owned a telephone. But whom would she call? Not Nathaniel, who also was without a phone.

“Holly's not home. Come in, would ya? I've got big trouble.”

“Anything I can do to help?” He crossed the threshold. “Are you Holly's mother?”

“Yah, but—”

“She's talked about you, Mrs. Fisher. I'm from Seattle.”

No time to ask what he was doing here. “Please—please come this way.” Esther's hand motioned him to enter the sitting room. “My mother just fell.”

“How serious?” Larry assumed a take-charge voice. “Is she unconscious? I learned CPR, but it's been a few years.”

“She's awake, but I can't get her up off the floor. And she cut her forehead.”

“Yow.” Larry hurried over to Mamm and knelt down. “You must have taken quite a spill.”

“It happened so quickly.” Mamm winced. “Ach, my arm hurts something awful. And I bent my glasses.”

Esther dabbed Mamm's bloodied forehead with fresh paper towels. “I hope you didn't fracture a hip,” she said.

“My hip's perfectly fine,” Mamm said brusquely. “Why do people always assume a woman my age has fractured her hip?”

Larry leaned in close to Mamm. “Looks like your forehead needs stitches,” he said. “I'll take you to the nearest hospital.”

“No need, I have a doctor's appointment coming up,” Mamm said, and a smile spread across Larry's face. Not a bad chap, thought Esther.

“This can't wait,” she told Mamm.

“I agree.” Larry got to his feet. “Without stitches you'll have an unsightly scar across your forehead.”

“I don't care. I'll cover it with a
Kapp
. And I have an extra pair of glasses—somewhere.”

“That may be so,” Esther said, “but I think a doctor should have a look at you.”

“I'm happy to drive.” Larry helped Mamm to her feet, but kept hold of her. “I'll see Holly when we return. She is staying here, isn't she?”

“Yah, she is and should be home soon.” Esther dove into a coat, and located her purse and a coat for Mamm.

Larry propped up Mamm as she tottered to his car. “Please,” Esther said to him from the backseat where she sat with Mamm, “could we make one quick stop?”

Adhering to Esther's directions, Larry drove onto the road, then swerved around the side of Nathaniel's house, and waited while Esther streaked into the barn to explain the status quo to Nathaniel, who stood gripping a pitchfork.

“I could come with you if you like.” He leaned the pitchfork against a wall, then dug into the pocket of his black work coat and brought out a knife.

She would have loved his company but said, “You must have chores—”

“Yah, right now I'm pretty busy.” He bent over, knife in hand, and slashed the twine encircling a bale of hay.

When Nathaniel didn't attempt to dissuade her, she spun on her heels and leaped back into Larry's car. Strange, she thought, that Nathaniel didn't wander out to wave at Mamm. But maybe he knew he'd only be slowing down their departure. Yet his stiff posture and grim expression bothered her. He couldn't be afraid of the sight of blood, Esther told herself. She doubted he was afraid of anything.

As Esther got back into the car she had noticed Larry entering the Lancaster General Hospital's address into the GPS system. When her seat belt clicked, his foot shoved down on the gas pedal and Esther felt the seatback propelling them. She inspected Mamm's forehead. “Gut, the bleeding has stopped,” she said.

A woman's robotic voice spouted directions from the GPS as Larry whisked them back onto the road. He narrowly missed several horse-drawn carriages and a tractor.

“That didn't take long.” Larry pulled up to the hospital's emergency entrance's curb fifteen minutes later, and jammed on the brakes. He jumped out, demanded a wheelchair, and pushed Mamm inside the patient entrance, ignoring her protests that she wanted to go home.

With Esther trailing, they passed a mishmash of people, including an Amish family she didn't recognize huddled together. When Esther checked in, the attendant at the front desk asked about Mamm's insurance. The woman didn't seem alarmed when Esther said her mother had none. The staff must be used to the Amish, Esther thought. Old Order Amish in their district were forbidden by the Ordnung from purchasing any type of insurance.

“I'll wait here,” Larry said, and found an empty chair. Like magic, a phone appeared in his hand and his thumbs moved rapidly across its face. Texting, Esther thought.

Finally, in a cramped exam room reeking of disinfectant, a nurse carrying a clipboard came in. “Oh, my, what have we here?”

Esther was grateful Mamm said, “I don't quite remember how it happened. I stumbled, not lookin' where I was going.” Esther wondered if Mamm really had forgotten or if she was covering up for Esther, who once again felt like the worst daughter in the world. Just when she and Mamm were doing so well.

The nurse and Esther helped Mamm onto the exam table. After asking about medications—Mamm wasn't on any—and measuring Mamm's blood pressure, the nurse worked her fingers into latex gloves. “I'll need to remove your prayer cap, Mrs. Gingerich.”

Mamm's good hand moved up to hold the blood-caked Kapp in place. “Nee, don't take it off.”

“I'm sorry, the doctor will insist,” the nurse said. “Then you can have it right back.”

Under the glaring overhead lighting, Esther watched the nurse gently peel it from her balding scalp. “Once you see how it looks, I doubt you'll want to put the Kapp back on,” Esther said.

“Then you should have thought to bring an extra.” Mamm's mood seemed to be escalating from bad to worse, but Esther reminded herself Mamm was in pain and probably embarrassed by the whole ordeal. If only Esther had let Mamm have the doll, they'd be at home nice and comfy.

Ten minutes later, Mamm sat stoically, refusing pain medication, while a doctor stitched up her forehead.

“I notice your mother's lost a patch of hair in front.” He directed his words at Esther. “When did that start?”

“I don't know. I haven't been living here.” Esther turned to Mamm, whose eyes glanced upward for a moment.

“I can't recall. If I had my Kapp I could cover it up.”

“I'm sure you could, Mrs. Gingerich—”

“Enough doctoring,” she said. “I want to go home.”

But he sent her for X-rays, which came back normal. When the three left the hospital, Mamm's wrist was wrapped in an ace bandage and in a sling.

“Nothing's broken,” Mamm said. “See, I told ya.”

“I'm glad,” Larry said, and situated her in the back of his rental car. “There you go,” he said, “all set.” Next to her lay the coat Esther had brought, then forgotten about. Esther reached in from the other side and draped it over Mamm's shoulders.

Mamm sank low in the seat. “Ach, I'm glad the bishop can't see me without a Kapp.”

“I'm sure he'd understand,” Esther said, and opted to sit in front next to Larry.

“The Bible admonishes women to cover their heads when they pray,” Mamm said. “I might want to pray on the ride home.”

Larry climbed in behind the steering wheel. “I know that verse,” he said. “First Corinthians 11:5.” Proving to Esther he'd memorized scripture, he grew in her esteem.

“If you wish to pray,” she said, “perhaps you could pull your coat up over your head. The Lord will forgive you under the circumstance.”

“I'm not going back to the hospital, ever,” Mamm said. “I should be home fixing supper.”

“You can't cook with that arm of yours,” Esther said. “Holly and I can take care of everything. The doctor recommended you don't lift anything over five pounds for a week.”

When the doctor realized how confused Mamm was, he'd suggested she spend the night, but she'd flat-out refused.

“I can't wait to see Holly.” Larry pressed his foot on the accelerator. “I tried her cell phone, but she must have it turned off.”

Esther considered asking Larry to stop at an optician to get Mamm's glasses fixed, but decided against it. She'd already bothered him enough and he looked bushed. Esther opened her purse to make sure the glasses were there and noticed the letter from Chap McLaughlin. She couldn't pretend she hadn't received it.

One hand gripping the steering wheel, Larry checked his wristwatch. “I'll need to find a hotel.”

“We have plenty of room at our house,” Mamm said.

Esther stiffened. “Maybe we should ask Holly first.” Larry had yet to explain his sudden appearance.

“Nee,” Mamm said. “After all he's done for us I wouldn't hear of his staying elsewhere.”

“Thank you very much, Mrs. Gingerich.” Larry tailgated a buggy until it pulled to the side of the road, then sped past it.

Esther cowered when she considered how she would explain Mamm's accident to Holly—when it wasn't an accident. Ach, the way Mamm's disposition fluctuated, there was no telling what she'd say.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Riding back to Mommy Anna's, I listened to the horse's rhythmic clip-clop on the paved road. The cart swayed as if trying to lull me. To the right and left, harvested farmland stretched placidly, cows and horses grazed, and birds chirped. I heard the flapping of mourning doves' wings—a unique sound I'd always enjoyed.

For a moment, I couldn't recall how I happened to be sitting next to Armin. My mind struggled to reconstruct the last twenty minutes. At first I drew a blank, then the tumultuous scene congealed behind my eyes. I saw haughty Victoria laying claim to Zach. Their son, Justin. Beth must believe Victoria or she wouldn't be baking cupcakes and calling him into her house. If Zach was the boy's father, I should step aside. I wanted what was best for the child, the darling youngster who'd followed Grandma Beth's voice.

I'd been dealt a bad hand, as they say. I'd been in the wrong place at the wrong time. No, quite the opposite; I was thankful the truth had surfaced before I'd married Zach.

“What was that all about?” Armin gave me a sideways glance.

Like a bird that had flown into a windowpane, I was in shock and agony—numb, unable to converse. All I could do was shake my head in response. I knew if I spoke I'd cry, and the waterfall of tears building up behind my eyes might never stop.

Hard as I tried to steady myself, I felt moisture seeping from the corners of my eyes. I reached into a pocket, but found no Kleenex.

Armin steered the buggy off to the side of the road onto a wide patch of dirt and offered me a clean, pressed cloth handkerchief. “Ya want to talk about it?” he asked.

“There's nothing to say other than I'm a gullible fool,” I sputtered between sobs. I guessed I didn't need to worry about the sexy blonde from the plane anymore. Zach already had another dazzling
femme fatale
throwing herself at him. And a son!

Armin didn't urge me to continue; he patiently allowed me to sit beside him and blubber.

“You, Mom, and Mommy Anna were right. Zach's been lying to me.” I sniffed and wiped my nose. “He has a child. According to a woman named Victoria—”

“Yah, I knew he dated her. I met her once several years ago on one of my visits home. But Nathaniel said she up and left Zach, and right off the bat married another man.” He fingered the reins. “I can't imagine Zach would abandon his own child.”

“Maybe he didn't know he had one. Until today.”

“Could be a lie. Word buzzes 'round this county like swarming bees.”

“Who'd make up a story like that?”

“You're not the only person suffering from gossip, Holly. Just recently someone reported seeing Nathaniel's wife in Ohio, of all things.”

“I thought he was a widower.”

“We all did. The coroner said she most likely drowned years ago, and our bishop agreed with the verdict. But now Bishop Troyer thinks Nathaniel should go to Ohio and put an end to speculation.”

“Unless Nathaniel's wife hit her head and lost her memory,” I said, and immediately regretted my words.

“His two daughters don't believe for a minute their mother would be living somewhere and not contact them.” He took the handkerchief from me and wiped under my eyes. “Sometimes we have to come to peace with what we cannot see,” he said. “That's called faith.”

“You're right.” I blinked. “Like my own father's disappearance in Vietnam.” No matter how many times I'd tried to come to peace with it, the image of him on the helipad continued to saturate the back of my mind. I'd never get over missing him and wondering what happened. “Mom's never mentioned anything about Nathaniel's wife. How did you find out?”

“Lizzie was there when the bishop came, and she overheard their conversation.”

“Eavesdropping?” What I'd been doing myself. “In other words, more gossip.”

“I confirmed it with Nathaniel. The bishop wants him to go as soon as possible, and I told Nathaniel I'd look after his farm. Nathaniel hires a young Amishman who will continue to work alongside me.”

“Does my mother even know about this?”

“I don't know.” He searched my eyes. “Ya look
drauerich
—sad in your face. You want to go back and talk to Zach?”

“No, if he wants to speak, let him come to me.”

Did I no longer love Zach because he had a child? Would I not help raise the little boy? I knew I would. I recalled Justin's adorable face, his excitement at the word
cupcake
. But I grew up without a dad. If Victoria was telling the truth, I'd be keeping Justin from his father. I couldn't do such a thing.

Armin jiggled the reins and the horse conveyed us to Mommy Anna's barnyard. He helped me descend; my legs felt like they might give out on me. “Thanks,” I said, grateful for a friend. I dreaded facing my mother and grandmother. They'd been right about Zach; he was not the right man for me.

My head as heavy as a boulder, I trod up the back steps and into the kitchen, but I found it empty. “Anyone home?” I called. No one answered.

I discarded my jacket, stepped into my moccasins, and entered the sitting room.

An eerie feeling surrounded me when I saw the low table lying tipped on its side, and the doll sprawled on the floor facedown. Why would Mom leave the doll there? I recalled my grandmother disapproving of it but couldn't fathom Mommy Anna or my mother tossing and leaving it on the floor.

Then I noticed the fabric strewn across the couch, and spotted Mom's knitting bag by the chair. I didn't see Mom's purse and wondered if someone had broken in. Mom's handbag could be upstairs. But if someone had burgled the house the intruder might be there.

I hurried through the kitchen to the back door and called for Armin. “Can you help me?”

He came bounding up the back steps. “What's wrong?”

“I don't know. Someone might have broken into the house.”

“It's unlikely. Why would you think such a thing?”

“Come look in the living room.”

He led the way. “Where's your mother and Anna?”

“Could they have gone to Nathaniel's?” I said.

“And left the house in such disarray? I doubt it. I better have a look around.” Armin scaled the staircase to the second floor, then returned. “No one there,” he said and then jogged into the Daadi Haus to find it also empty.

I heard Nathaniel's voice, and moments later he entered the room.

“Have you seen my mom and grandmother?” I asked him.

“Yah. Some Englischer drove them to the hospital a while back. Anna took a fall. Nothing too serious. Apparently she could hobble to the car so I don't think she broke anything. But her forehead was bleeding.”

As Armin righted the table, Nathaniel turned his attention to him. “Why aren't you working on Anna's roof?” Nathaniel said, his mouth severe. “And you've got that mutt over here again.”

Nathaniel was one of the most gentle and even-tempered men I'd ever met; I couldn't understand what seemed like hostility toward his brother.

“I took Rascal for a walk,” I said. “Armin gave me a lift and was just about to bring Rascal back to your place when I asked him to come in here.”

Nathaniel stepped closer to me, took in my face. “Your eyes are swollen. Have ya been crying, Holly? Something
rilpsich
—foolish—my Bruder said or did?”

“No, quite the contrary. Armin saved me from an awkward situation and I'm very grateful.” My vexation transferred to Nathaniel. “Does Mom know you're going to Ohio?” I asked him.

“I was planning to tell her today.” He glared at Armin, who'd obviously spilled the beans. “I hate to worry her, since I went through the same routine several years back. Senseless titter-tatter is all it was.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “But now, this time, I don't know—”

My poor mother, was all I could think.