The Choice (9 page)

The next morning, the weather turned cold. Carrie took some coffee to Daniel down by the barn. She watched him for a moment. Concentrating intently, he pumped the bellows to blow on the fire, then grasped a horseshoe with the tongs and thrust it into the burning coals. He looked up when he saw Carrie and gave a brief nod when his eyes rested on the hot drink. She watched him pick up the poker-hot horseshoe and plunge it into the trough of water, releasing a hiss and plume of steam.

“Every now and then, the bishop likes to remind us of our sinfulness, Daniel.”

He put the tongs down and took the coffee mug from her.

“He’s not usually so grim. He’s really quite kind. And the ministers aren’t grim. The deacon, Abraham, isn’t a bit grim.” She leaned against the workbench. “Yesterday, Mattie said that maybe the bishop has been reading too much of the Old Testament lately and not enough of the New Testament.” She picked up a tool, studying it. “She says that the New Testament tells us our sins are wiped clean.”

Daniel took a sip of coffee but kept his eyes fixed on her.

“Whiter than snow, Mattie says. I’m not exactly sure where in the Bible it says that, but Mattie is usually right about that kind of thing. If she were born a man, the Lord would choose to give her the lot so she’d be a minister one day. I’m certain of it. Mattie’s grandfather was a bishop. Caleb Zook was his name. One of the finest bishops there ever was. Everybody loved Caleb Zook. Even Esther. He passed, just a few years ago.” Her words fell into an empty silence. After an awkward moment, she put down the tool and turned to go when she heard him say her name.

“Carrie?” he asked.

She spun around to face him. Daniel’s eyes met hers, wide and sea blue. She could see his heart in his eyes, a heart beating with hope and hurt. She saw all of his sadness wanting to pour out so he could be freed from it. But he kept hesitating, and then the moment passed, like a cloud swallowing up the sun.

All that he said was, “Denki.” He tipped his head toward the coffee cup in his hand.

“Bitte.”

It was a start, she hoped.

Mattie was riding her scooter down the road one afternoon when she spotted something peculiar moving in a tree. She pulled over on the scooter to examine what it was. As soon as she saw the sandy blond head, she knew. She slid off the scooter and walked to the tree. “Andy Weaver! What do you think you’re doing up there?”

Startled, Andy looked down at her, eyes wide. “I’m trying to feed the baby birds. Those rotten English boys killed their mother and they’re awful hungry.” He put one hand in his pocket and pulled out a handful of wiggling worms. “I dug up some food for them. See?” One of the worms dropped from his hand and landed on Mattie’s head.

She screamed and brushed it off. “Andy, you shouldn’t be climbing so high up! You’ll fall!”

“Nah. I’m nearly there.” With that, he swung one leg onto the branch by his head. There was a huge
crack!
as the limb broke. Andy spilled on top of Mattie, knocking the breath out of her.

“Oh Andy, are you all right?” Mattie asked, as soon as she stopped feeling dazed. She tried to get up, but he was smashed on top of her like a pancake. “Say something!”

“I think I’m dead,” he said, rolling off of her as he held up his arm. His wrist looked as crooked as a snapped tree twig.

“Oh no!” Mattie said as she sat up, eyeing his wrist. “Another visit to the emergency room.”

Andy smiled weakly. “At least they got television.”

Mattie managed to wheel Andy to Carrie’s on the scooter, slowly and awkwardly. While she hitched up the buggy to take Andy to the hospital, Carrie wrote a note to leave on the kitchen table for Daniel.

After the X-rays had been developed, Andy waited on a bed in the far corner of the emergency room, close to the television. Carrie had just turned the channel to a cartoon when the doctor came in and sat on Andy’s bed.

“Popeye! My favorite!” he said, after glancing up to see what Andy was watching. “I yam what I yam,” he said in a funny voice. “My mom let me watch it so I would eat spinach. But I still can’t stomach spinach.”

Andy looked up at him, wide-eyed, surprised by his casualness. The doctor picked up Andy’s chart, reviewed the notes, and peered at the X-ray pinned against the light. “I’m Dr. Zimmerman. Doing my internship here at Stoney Ridge.” He smiled at Carrie and Mattie. “So, Andy, you broke your wrist and you’re a hemophiliac. Just to be sure, we’re going to give you a dose of Factor IX.” He looked at Carrie and Mattie. “So which one of you broke his fall?”

“That would be her,” Carrie said, pointing at Mattie. “She has a knack for being in the right place at the right time.”

Mattie’s cheeks reddened at the praise. “I’m going to the cafeteria to get Andy something to eat.”

Dr. Zimmerman gave instructions to the nurse to get the IV drip for Factor IX set up for Andy, then he opened the cupboard to get the supplies for the cast. “Let’s see if I can remember what they taught me in medical school.” He looked at the supplies as if he’d never seen them before.

“So you’re new at doctoring?” Andy asked, a little worried.

“Well, I think a day-old degree is good enough, don’t you?” Dr.Zimmerman answered, eyes snapping with good humor. Andy’s eyes, as wide as saucers, made Dr. Zimmerman burst into laughter at his own joke. He started unwrapping the gauze. “What color cast do you want?” he asked Andy. “Neon green would make the school kids think you’re a super action figure.”

“White,” Carrie interrupted.

Andy groaned.

The doctor looked at Carrie with a question.

“We don’t like things showy or loud,” she said. “We don’t want anything that draws attention.”

“What’s so wrong with drawing attention to yourself?” the doctor asked.

Carrie wrinkled her brow. “What’s so right about it?”

The doctor shrugged. “Good point.” He turned to Andy. “White would be my choice too.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “That way, you can tell kids that it’s really leprosy.”

“What’s leprosy?” Andy asked.

“It’s a highly contagious disease that eats away at your skin,” he said, mixing up the plaster to spread over the gauze. “Looks pretty disgusting. Very effective way to gross out your friends.”

Watching him with fascination, Andy brightened considerably at that news.

After an hour’s wait in the waiting room, Solomon Riehl had just been admitted into the Emergency Room. His shoulder was throbbing and he wasn’t sure what was wrong with it. It had been bothering him for a few weeks now, but aspirin usually took the edge off of the pain. Not today, though. He didn’t want to talk to the team’s trainer; if he did, it would be noted on his records. That could tip off the pitching coach to a problem. The coach was conservative like that. Sol just had to get through another few weeks, then he could give his shoulder a good long rest. He was hoping he could get a cortisone shot or something, like the other guys on the team did.

On the far side of the room, past the nurse’s station, the silhouette of an Amish woman caught his eye. He put his things down on the bed, then looked closer to see if he might know who she was. He knew most of the Amish in Stoney Ridge. The woman had her back to him, facing the doctor. The doctor had put the blood pressure cuff around his own head and started to pump, making the boy on the bed start to giggle, then to guffaw out loud. Sol’s heart started to pound. He knew that laugh. That was Andy’s laugh. And if that was Andy, then the Amish woman was Carrie. He hadn’t seen her since the day he had left. It still made his insides twist up, every single day, what he had done to her.

Sol watched as the doctor high-fived Andy’s good hand before he left. The nurse started an IV on Andy. Sol figured it was that hemophilia stuff he needed. After the nurse left, Sol jumped off the bed and grabbed his jacket. In that instant, an Amish man arrived, hat in hand, and stood by the door, scanning the room until his eyes rested on Carrie. In a few quick strides, the man reached her side and stood close to her. She leaned in against him, to tell him something. Sol drew back, as if touching a hot stove.

After a while, Sol saw the man head out the door into the hallway and decided to follow him. He slipped into the hallway and saw the cafeteria doors swing shut. Sol peered through the small window of the door and noticed the man, standing in front of the coffee vending machine, feeding the machine with coins.

Sol pushed open the cafeteria door. “She likes her coffee black,” he said, walking up to the man.

Daniel looked at Sol, puzzled.

“Carrie,” Sol said. “She likes it black because that’s how her father liked his coffee.”

Recognition dawned in Daniel’s eyes. “Solomon Riehl,” he stated, a fact.

“I am,” Sol said. “And you’re Daniel Miller.”

Sol and Daniel stood looking at each other for a long moment, sizing each other up.

Daniel turned back to the coffee machine and punched the buttons for cream and sugar. After the cup filled, he turned to go.

Sol blocked his path. “She loves me, you know. She’ll always love me.”

Daniel swirled the coffee in his hand, watching the warm shades of brown and cream blend together.

“I happened to be in Ohio awhile back, playing a scrimmage.” Sol watched Daniel carefully to see if there was any reaction, but he could have been describing the weather. Daniel’s face was hugely unreadable. “Met a few Amish guys who came to watch me play. Guess they had heard about me.”

Daniel lifted his head to look Sol straight in the eyes.

“They told me an interesting story about you and your cousin. About why you left Ohio.”

Daniel’s eyebrows lifted.

“Made me wonder how much Carrie knows. About you, I mean.”

Sol thought he caught a flash of something in Daniel’s eyes, then there was nothing.

Daniel lifted the coffee cup. “She likes it with cream and sugar because that’s the way her mother drank it.” He opened the door to leave, tossing over his shoulder, “My Carrie is waiting for me.”

Sol stood there for a moment, watching the doors swing shut. It was common for the Amish to call each other “my” or “our”; it was part of belonging. But that wasn’t how he meant it, Sol thought. Daniel Miller said “my Carrie” like a claim.

A young woman’s soft and soothing voice came from behind him. “Hello, Solomon.”

Sol spun around to see who was talking to him. There, smiling ear to ear, stood little Mattie Zook.

On the way home, Daniel stopped the buggy at the tree where Andy had been climbing when he fell. Andy had begged him to save the birds and bring the nest home.

Daniel shimmied up the tree and peered in the nest. “They’re Cooper’s hawks!”

“So?” Andy yelled.

Daniel looked down at him. “They’re predators. They steal other bird eggs. And go after small animals too.”

“You said that every creature has a purpose, Daniel,” Andy yelled back. “You told me that.”

Daniel gave an exaggerated sigh. “So I did.”

“Them birds need our help!”

Daniel untangled the nest from its crook. He tucked it under his arm and shimmied back down the tree. There were three baby birds in the nest, already near death’s door, panting and gasping, hardly moving. Andy reached into his pocket with his good hand and pulled out what was left of the worms he had caught that morning. He cradled the nest in his lap and tried to jam bits of worm into the birds’ beaks.