Rebecca's Return (34 page)

Miriam was at a loss to understand John’s present coherence, considering his condition moments earlier. Now Dr. Wine’s hands were testing points on John’s legs, pressing in as he waited for a response from John. A facial twitch seemed to communicate John’s response in most cases, she noticed, yet this made no sense at all to her.

“What is wrong with him?” she finally asked, assuming that discussing the matter in front of John would be okay.

“That’s what I wanted to tell you. I think John already knows,” he said, turning in her direction. “He has paralysis on one side, even though the subdural hematoma was declining in yesterday’s CT. We’ll check it today again, and if the swelling is decreasing even more—which I would guess it is—we might have more improvement soon.”

Miriam glanced at John, then ventured the question, “His mind. Is it affected?”

Dr. Wine seemed to ponder the question. “A little hazy I suppose. A little amnesia is even possible but no permanent damage.” He looked at John and grinned. “You gave your mother that idea?”

“I don’t know,” John said, bringing his eyes over to his mother as if the effort cost him a lot.

“He’s fine in that department,” Dr. Wine nodded. “Responds well.”

“I just want to see Rebecca,” John said. “Can you tell her I’m awake?”

“That’s a perfectly normal reaction, considering,” Dr. Wine said. “That was one of the things I wanted to talk to you about. I don’t expect the paralysis to be permanent, but we just don’t know. Under those circumstances, anything can happen to even established relationships. His girlfriend hasn’t been around to see him for a while.”

“She was here last night with me,” Miriam said. “When we got the call—the false one. She’s very concerned about John.”

“We should hope so,” Dr. Wine said briskly. “Yes…and about the call. Sorry about that. I guess the new receptionist didn’t check things well enough.”

“Rebecca’s not coming back…is she?” John’s eyes were still on his mother’s face, his voice a little stronger.

“Of course she is,” Miriam told him firmly.

“I will have the nurse come in,” Dr. Wine’s voice broke in. “She can also tell you about any preparations you need to make once your son can go home.”

Miriam nodded as Dr. Wine left the room. Relief that John was of sound mind was tempered by the knowledge that their original fears might still come true. That John doubted her opinion about Rebecca was not a surprise, considering his obvious distress, but he would get over it. It might be good, though, to have Rebecca come down as soon as possible, even before she took John home.

The memory of Rebecca’s action yesterday strengthened her resolve.

“She’s a good girl,” she said to John, as the door shut behind Dr. Wine. “You don’t have to worry.”

John failed to answer, his left hand twitching.

Letting her eyes move up and down John’s body, Miriam still wondered,
Should John even continue with his plans to marry? How might he support his family? Will it be fair to his wife? What if they can never have children? Is it right to deprive a girl of even the possibility of little ones?
It was all a little too much for her, but maybe Isaac would know the answers.

“Can you tell Rebecca? Tell her to come right away?” John asked.

“Maybe you shouldn’t push things,” she said, wishing Isaac were here. “I’m sure you still need rest. She’ll come.”

“Would you have stayed on with Dad?” John asked. “If he had been…like this?” He still mouthed the words slowly but stronger than before. “In my condition?” he asked, his eyes on her face.

“Yes,” she said because it was true.

“Is Rebecca like you?” he asked, fear in his eyes.

“We’re all different,” she said truthfully.

“Then she doesn’t love me?” The fear in his eyes was increasing.

“Do you love her?” she asked him, searching desperately for the right words.

“Of course,” he said, his lips dry again.

She reached for the glass of water beside the bed, but he refused to drink.

“Then you’ll be just fine,” she said, holding the glass in her hand. “
Da Hah
will help us all.”

“I can’t lose her,” he whispered now, still refusing the water she held out to him. “I love her too much. Do you think it’s possible she’ll stick with me?” he asked, not looking at her.

“I think she will.” She brought the glass closer to him, forcing him to notice.

“You will tell her to come to me?” He ignored the water.

“Take a sip,” she finally said.

He complied but was waiting for her answer.

“I will,” she told him. “I’ll go to her house on my way home and tell her.”

“You can talk to her…prepare her?”

“I think you should talk these things over with her,” she said. “But for now we need to concentrate on getting you home and getting you well again.”

“I’ll never be well. I’m broken. I can’t feel all of myself,” John said, his eyes on the ceiling again. “The sunbeams are gone,” he spoke his sudden observation.

“Sunbeams?”

“There were sunbeams up there this morning.” His left hand came up slightly, motioning toward the ceiling. “They’re gone now.”

Considering there might have been, she agreed with a nod.

“They’re gone,” he said.

“We need to get you home,” she repeated, wanting him out of here. Home was where her son needed to be, not in this hospital room with its drab walls and sunbeams playing on the ceiling. If she didn’t get him home soon, he might truly get touched on the brain.

What he needed was an open window and the walls of his own room. He needed to be surrounded by the sounds of life on the farm, the smell of winter outside, the beat of horses’ hooves on pavement, and the love of his own family.

“The nurse is coming now,” she said, hearing the click of the door behind her. “I’ll wait and see what the test results are. If they give the okay, I can be back this afternoon with a driver.”

“Sounds like you’re making plans already,” Mrs. Madison said, her cheerful voice filling the room. “There are some papers at the front desk for you.”

“Can he go home for sure then?” Miriam asked.

“He needs to have another test. We’ll know more after the doctor looks at the results. I’m here to take him to the imaging room now.”

“I’ll be here when you come back,” Miriam told John, as Mrs. Madison began to wheel his bed out of the room.

He nodded as they left, his eyes still dull, searching the ceiling as he went.

C
HAPTER
F
ORTY-THREE

N
early an hour later, Miriam, sitting in the waiting room, glanced up from her magazine and noticed Mrs. Madison pushing John’s bed down the hall to his room. Rather than go to his room, she wanted to find Dr. Wine first to hear the test results and then discuss plans to move John home.

When she didn’t see Dr. Wine anywhere, Miriam went to the familiar front desk. She ruled out following Mrs. Madison, who was still in John’s room. It would be better to speak with the doctor without John’s presence.

“Can you locate Dr. Wine for me?” she asked the woman at the front desk. “My son just underwent a scan, and I was told he might be able to come home today, depending on the results of that scan.”

“Dr. Wine said he would see you?”

“Yes, after the scan.”

“I’ll page him then,” the nurse said. “Would you like to wait in the waiting room?”

Miriam took her seat and picked up the magazine, as she heard the nurse page Dr. Wine. When the minutes passed and no doctor appeared, she began to consider making another trip out to the front desk. Just then Dr. Wine stepped briskly into the room.

“I’m so sorry,” Dr. Wine said. “Hectic morning.”

Miriam nodded, then asked, “How is my son? Can I take him home?”

“No,” he said quickly. “There is some change, but you must understand your son was very seriously injured. Although he’s making progress, he’s not ready to go home yet.”

Miriam waited, expecting more.

The doctor continued. “I’m comfortable with the difference between yesterday’s and today’s CT scan. I would have liked to see more, but it just wasn’t there. Perhaps he can go home tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” Miriam managed. “If you say so. I will speak with John and then return tomorrow.”

“That would be best,” he agreed. Then he turned and walked briskly down the hall. Miriam turned in the direction of John’s room.

When she entered, she found that Mrs. Madison had left. John was alone.

“John,” she said softly, not certain whether he was awake or not.

He stirred, turning his head toward her with great effort. “Has she come?” he asked.

Miriam approached his bed, running her hand over his forehead. John made a weak effort to shake her hand off, but the pain tightened the side of his face.

“You have to stay here another night,” she told him gently, expecting disappointment to cross his face. “We’ll pick you up tomorrow then.”

He struggled for words. “You will let her know? Rebecca? Tell her I am here.”

“Yes,” she said.

“You will tell her,” he repeated, “that I want to see her.”

“Yes,” Miriam answered.

He seemed to be thinking.

“We will pick you up tomorrow morning, if Dr. Wine agrees. I’ll have things ready for you at home.”

When John offered no words, she left, thinking it best that way. There would be plenty of time, once she got him home, to nurse John back to health. Only so much could be done in this hospital. She simply must get John home as soon as possible.

As she walked past the front desk on her way out, Mrs. Madison approached her. “Here are some instructions,” the nurse said, offering Miriam several pages paper-clipped together. Then she added, “I’m sorry to hear the news. I can imagine how much you want him home now that he’s awake.”

“Yes.” Miriam glanced briefly at the offered papers.

“This is just a list of instructions and things to expect and watch for with John’s type of injury. Also there are phone numbers to call if you see anything unusual. I’m sure Dr. Wine will tell you more tomorrow.”

“Thanks.” Miriam felt deep gratitude for what this woman had done for her son during his stay here. “We all appreciate it,” Miriam said. “You’ve done so much for us.”

“I have three sons.” Mrs. Madison’s face was tender. “They don’t live around here anymore, but I can imagine how it must feel. John’s your only boy, isn’t he?”

Miriam nodded, repeated her thanks, and walked out to her buggy.

Driving the back roads from West Union to Unity, Miriam got the horse going at a good clip and then let it settle into its own steady pace. Her mind was busy, running over all the things to be done, first and foremost was letting Rebecca know of John’s status.

Remembering the time of day and knowing she had missed making lunch for Isaac, she slapped the reins, urging the horse on. It momentarily increased its speed. When she didn’t repeat the motion, it soon settled back down to its former pace. Miriam didn’t have the heart to push it any harder. They had a long way to go, she figured, and it had good reason to take its time.

Coming up to the junction at Unity, she carefully pulled to a stop and then turned left instead of the normal right. She could tell the horse was puzzled by this change, but it reluctantly obeyed, shaking its head in protest as they drove down the slope out of Unity.

“We’ll be back soon. You can have your oats then,” she said.

At the Harshville Bridge, she had to wait for a car coming from the other side. After making the sharp turns on the other side of the bridge, she turned right into the Keim driveway and allowed the horse to walk up the slight incline toward the house. She stopped the buggy by the hitching post and was preparing to step down when the front door opened. Mattie rushed out, her cooking apron still around her waist.

“You have news?” she asked.

“Good news,” Miriam said, managing a weak smile and settling back into the buggy seat. “John woke up this morning. He wants to see Rebecca.”

“That is good news then.” Mattie was wiping her hands on her apron. “Sorry, I was in the middle of making bread.”

“That’s what I should be doing,” Miriam said wearily, “but it’s likely John can come home tomorrow. I have to get ready for that.”

“I’ll tell Rebecca right away. She’s finishing some chores in the barn.”

“That’s why I stopped by. I wanted to let her know. John wants to see her pretty bad. Can’t say I blame him, considering.”

“How’s his condition?’

“He’s still paralyzed on the right side. Can’t even move his arm.” Miriam was looking out the windshield of the buggy, her lips a thin line, her hands gripping the reins, even though the horse had no intentions of taking off. “Doctor hopes for a full recovery once the swelling goes down.”

“I’ll tell Rebecca.” Mattie smiled, relief on her face. “ I suppose you have plenty to do at home—to get ready.”

“That I do,” Miriam told her. “I’d better get going.”

“You need help?” Mattie asked.