The Fiddler (20 page)

After Michael and Amelia pulled into the hospital parking lot, he hurried around to the passenger side of the car to open her door. She waited, smiling at his attention.

“Wow, thanks . . . it’s been ages since I’ve been around a gentleman.” He tipped his straw hat, and they laughed a little as they made their way toward the Harrisburg hospital. The lighthearted moment felt good after the frank discussion they’d had during the trip here.

In a short time, it was discovered that Elizabeth had been discharged more than an hour earlier. As no other details were forthcoming, Amelia could only imagine what had happened to cause her to be admitted.

Michael pulled out his cell phone, and as they walked back to the car, he texted his niece. Amelia held her breath, hoping the trip had not been in vain. “She must be at her apartment by now,” he said with a pensive look.

Amelia was glad she’d accompanied him—how would it have been for him to be alone right now?

“Why not just call her again? She might need to hear your voice.”

He nodded, his face solemn as he tried once more to reach young Elizabeth.

———

At last Michael got through to his niece. “You had me worried, Lizzie,” he said when she answered. “I kept texting ya, but heard nothin’ back.”

“I couldn’t use my phone in the hospital—so didn’t get your texts right away.”

“Well, I was just there and was told you’re out now. I want to visit ya . . . see for myself that you’re okay.”

Elizabeth paused, and Michael could hear voices in the background.
Male
voices. “Ain’t such a
gut
time, really,” she said, sounding strange.

“I drove here to check on ya.” He softened his tone. “You asked me to come, remember?”

“I’m fine now,” she said, still resisting. “Really, I am.”

“Mamm’s awful worried.”

Elizabeth gasped. “Grandma Lily knows . . . ?”

“Listen, I was careful what I said. I really want to see you, Elizabeth.” He pleaded this time.

“Hold on just a minute.” She must’ve covered the phone because he heard her talking—and someone responding rather loudly—although the words were muffled. In a few seconds, she returned. “Okay, I’m back.”

“What’s your address?” he asked, hoping she’d comply.

After a long pause, she told him the street name and number.

“I’ll be right over.”

“Don’t make a fuss, jah? I’m fine, really!” Was she protesting too much?

“Okay, bye!” Michael clicked off his cell phone.

We’ll just see if she’s fine.

E
lizabeth’s apartment was located in a section of the city where row houses lined the street for blocks on end. Michael didn’t tell Amelia what he was thinking as he pulled up to the curb in front of a rather rundown-looking building.
It’s a good thing her parents don’t know where she’s living!

He asked Amelia to come along, and they stepped out of the car and up the steps. They met Elizabeth coming out the front door, which she closed quickly behind her, a large canvas bag slung over her slight shoulder. One side of her face was badly bruised and bandaged, and her right arm was in a cast and sling. She reeked of cigarette smoke.

Elizabeth raised her blue-gray eyes in surprise at the sight of Amelia, though she did not acknowledge her. His niece looked nothing like the innocent young woman she had been, growing up in Hickory Hollow. She wore her dark hair loose and hanging down her back, and more than half the length of it had been cut off—so unevenly that Michael wondered if she’d lopped it off herself. What little eye makeup she wore had smeared onto her bruised face as if she had been crying.

“Come, let’s talk in the car,” he suggested, missing terribly her formerly cheerful countenance.

“This is Amelia, a friend of mine, by the way,” he told her, hoping Elizabeth might show some manners and say hello.

Elizabeth nodded quickly, then looked back at him as she got into the front seat of the car. “I don’t have much time,” she stated quickly.

“Why don’t I go for a short walk,” Amelia said as he hurried around the car to the driver’s side.

“Okay,” he replied, opening the door. “Thanks.”

Michael slipped in behind the steering wheel, uncertain how this would turn out, given how very crumpled Elizabeth looked—not only her battered face and broken arm, but her nearly sullen attitude.

———

Amelia strolled up the street, taking her time. Most of the brownstone houses were fairly well kept, but farther down, a broken tricycle appeared abandoned near the curb. Besides Elizabeth’s building, one house, in particular, was in disrepair, the exterior paint chipping off in places. For all its supposed inhabitants, the neighborhood felt surprisingly devoid of life compared to the countryside around Lancaster County.

How could a sheltered Amish girl be happy here in the city?
she wondered, feeling certain from what she’d seen that Michael’s dear niece was at risk.

———

“Don’t you get it?” Michael’s voice rose out of control. He paused a moment, taking a quick breath, forcing himself to be calm. “This isn’t what you had in mind when you left. Can’t you see this, Lizzie?”

Elizabeth pouted, her arms folded defiantly.

“You came here to attend school. What happened?”

She shook her head. “You really don’t understand, do ya?” Now she started to cry. “I dropped out, all right? I had no choice!” She shouted the words, her face red. “I couldn’t keep my grades up. It wasn’t enough to go to the one-room Amish schoolhouse . . . I just barely passed my GED test,” she explained. “So I’m a failure. I couldn’t cut it, and my precious dream’s gone for
gut
.”

“No . . . no.” Michael reached over to touch her head lightly. “Lizzie, you’re not a failure.”

She stared at him, her eyes pink. “But I am, Uncle Michael
.
I’m not as smart as you or anyone else in the Hollow.”

“Honey . . . no. Listen, you
are
smart—you’re very bright.”

“I wanted an education, more than anything. I wanted to make my way in the world, not end up married to an Amishman, expected to have a whole houseful of kids . . . with no time to read or study like I’ve always longed to.” She paused to wipe her eyes. “Like you, Uncle Michael.”

He couldn’t refute that. He was her role model, she’d once said . . . she wanted to follow in his footsteps. But where had it led her?

Elizabeth looked over at the brick house. “Even if
I
can’t make it in college, I still want my freedom.” She motioned to the run-down building. “This is my life now. My waitressing job . . . and that apartment there.”

“And the girls you share it with?” he asked pointedly. “Are they nice?”

“Sure,” she said, looking away. “And the guys, too. They’re all nice to me.”

He stiffened. “Guys live there, too, Elizabeth?”

“Please don’t make me go back to my old boring life,” she pleaded. “I’d rather die—”

“Apparently you came awful close last night!”

She sobbed into her hands, leaning forward and rocking back and forth. “I hate bein’ told what to do all the time.”

“Listen, I really just want to take ya home.”

Elizabeth’s face darkened. “I’m
not
going back.”

This isn’t going well
. He spotted Amelia slowly walking back and wished she’d stayed. Maybe then this conversation wouldn’t have gone so awry.

“You’re in trouble, Elizabeth. You asked to see
me
, remember?” He stopped and wished he had a handkerchief to offer her. “I came because I care about you.”

“Well, I’m done with this lecture. I’m gettin’ out of this car and going back inside . . . and I don’t want you to follow me, ya hear?”

He reached to touch her arm and she pushed away. “You’re not thinkin’ clearly.”

“How can ya know that?”

“Well, I’m not blind, Elizabeth.” He paused. “Sharing an apartment with men?”

She looked away, then noticed Amelia coming this way. “So, are ya courting
her
now? Guess Marissa didn’t mean so much to ya after all.”

That stung hard. “You know me better than that.”

“Do I?” She reached for the door handle. “It’s your fault, ya know. You never should’ve let me drive your car that day last winter.” She threw it right in his face. “You gave me my first taste of freedom . . . and the world.”

“Lizzie . . . please.”

“I can’t believe you came here. I really can’t. After all these months . . .” She sighed loudly. “What took ya so long?”

He recalled the hundreds of texts they’d exchanged. “I didn’t visit before now because you never wanted me to. You sounded settled . . . and happy.”

“Then I fooled ya, like I fooled everyone else back home.”

Struggling with her impudence, he looked away. “You don’t mean a word of that.”

She sniffled and pushed her long hair over her bare shoulders. “I might not look very happy, but I am. I like bein’ a waitress and I like the man I’m seein’—a whole lot.”

“The one drivin’ drunk last night? Isn’t that how the accident happened, Lizzie?”

She kept her face forward, not answering.

“You honestly
like
a fella who doesn’t care enough ’bout ya to drive sober? You could’ve been hurt very badly, or even killed.”

“It’s only the first time it’s happened,” she said.

“The
first
? If he does it once, he’ll likely do it again.”

Elizabeth opened the car door. “I’m sick of this! You remind me of Bishop John . . . and Dat, too!”

Michael’s heart sank as she got out and slammed the door.
I blew it. I totally blew it!

———

Amelia had seen Michael and his niece talking animatedly in the car. Then, unexpectedly, Elizabeth had opened the door and stumbled out of the vehicle. She scowled back at Michael. Whatever he’d said must have made matters worse.

Hurrying over to catch up with the disheveled young woman, Amelia asked her gently, “May I talk to you for a second?”

Elizabeth looked her over, up and down. “What do you care? Who are you, anyway?”

“A friend.” She tried to think of something to say to win this girl’s trust. “I’m staying with Joanna Kurtz—do you know her?”

Immediately, Elizabeth’s face softened. “Jah . . . she’s my best friend’s older sister.”

“I like Joanna,” Amelia said. “A lot.”

Elizabeth nodded her head. “She’s real nice. S’pose I needed a sister like
that
.”

“Come walk with me,” Amelia invited, pointing up the street in the opposite direction from where she had just been.

“Actually, how’s this?” Elizabeth indicated the front steps.

They sat down, not talking for a moment.

Then Elizabeth said, “Uncle Michael’s a little intense.”

“Well, he’s worried.” Amelia nodded. “And I would be, too, if you were my niece. I’m talking crazy-out-of-my-head worried, Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes.

“You know your family loves you. They miss you, too.” Amelia bobbed her head toward the apartment behind them. “The people who truly care about you are probably not the type who live here with you, are they?”

“I don’t know. . . .”

“Well, are your roommates kind to you?”

“Sometimes.” Elizabeth stared at her. “But really, how can you know anything about my life?”

“Just guessing.” Amelia smiled. “Maybe you could use a break from all of this. You could return later, if you want.”

“What’re ya sayin’?”

“I’m on a similar break myself, actually.”

“From your horrible life?”

Amelia patted Elizabeth’s knee. “We all struggle . . . sometimes.”

She breathed a short prayer, concerned she might mess things up now that she’d gotten this far. Forging ahead, she asked, “Why don’t you come home to Hickory Hollow for a day or so?”

“No one there wants to see me,” Elizabeth replied. “No one listens to me.”

Amelia paced herself, pausing for a second. “Well, I know of one person who might listen. Michael calls her the Wise Woman.”

Elizabeth fell silent and her eyes welled up. “You’re right—I do miss Ella Mae.”

“And Michael’s so fond of you, too. I’d like to get to know you myself.”

“Honestly?”

Amelia nodded and offered a smile. “I know he cares about you, Elizabeth.” She stopped again and glanced at Michael, still sitting in the car. “I know it for a fact.”

Elizabeth stared at the car. “I was hard on him just now,” she whispered.

“Oh, he’s a guy—he’ll manage.”

“Yeah . . .”

“So what do you think?” Amelia held her breath. “Want to ride home with us?”

The front door of the apartment house opened, and when Amelia turned around she saw a burly man in a sleeveless red T-shirt. He had to be in his thirties at least.

“Get yourself back inside, Liz,” he bellowed.

Elizabeth leaped up, her eyes blinking. She glanced first at Amelia, then back at the man.