Treasuring Emma (27 page)

“You have to listen.” Emma wiped her eyes with her free hand. “You need to stay here. Just for a few days. Until you get well.”

She shook her head. “Want . . . to . . .
geh
. . . home . . .”

Emma couldn’t hold back the tears. “Please,
Grossmammi
. Please listen to the doctors. I want you to come home too. But I can’t lose you. Not now.” She pressed her forehead against the frail, veined hand. “I don’t want to be alone.”

“Lieb . . .”

She lifted her head, gazing into her grandmother’s pale eyes.

“You will never . . . be alone.”
Grossmammi
took a breath. It racked her chest. She trembled, yet somehow continued to speak. “You will always have God.”

“I know.” Emma sniffed, wiping her nose on the back of her hand.

“And you will always . . . have your . . .
familye
. Clara. Peter.”

“It’s not the same.”
It’s not enough
.

The old woman looked into Emma’s eyes. “Don’t . . . cry. I’ll stay. For . . . you.” Her grandmother managed a small smile. “God isn’t ready for me . . . yet.”

Adam paced the length of the empty emergency waiting room. A slow night. Lucky for Leona. No, not luck. God’s hand. Adam was sure of it.

The silver doors opened and Emma came out, her eyes red and puffy. “Is she all right?”

She nodded. “She agreed to stay in ICU. She has pneumonia. The doctor wouldn’t tell me what her chances were. Just that she wouldn’t survive if she wasn’t hospitalized.” Emma put her hands over her face.

Adam pulled her close, pressing his hand against her
kapp
, gently nudging her to lean against him. “She’ll be okay, Emma.”

She pulled away. “They told me
Mammi
would be okay too. That they’d caught the cancer in time.” She turned her back to him. “I can’t lose someone else I love.”

He came up behind her. “You won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

He turned her to face him. “Then let’s pray.”

Her eyes widened. “Here?”

He reached for her hands. “I can’t think of a better place.” Closing his eyes, he silently spoke everything on his heart. He felt Emma clasp his hands tighter as she offered up her own silent prayer. A short time later they both opened their eyes.

“Adam?” Emma looked up at him, her eyes filled with wonder.

“Ya?”

She reached up and wiped his cheek with her finger.

He stared at the moisture glistening on her fingertip. Until that moment he hadn’t realized he’d been crying.

Emma sat next to Adam in the waiting room. She looked at his long, slender fingers intertwined with her stubby ones. He hadn’t let go of her hand since they’d prayed together.

As they waited to hear more news about her grandmother, she had to remind herself that Adam held her hand out of compassion. Friendly support, and nothing else. Still, his touch comforted her in a way she’d never experienced. She wished she never had to let him go.

The outside doors to the emergency room swished open, and Clara and Peter came rushing in. Adam and Emma stood up. Adam dropped her hand and Clara moved toward Emma.

“Where is she?” Clara demanded.

“She’s okay,” Adam said, holding up his hand. “She’s—”

“I wasn’t talking to you.”

“Clara,” Peter said, touching her shoulder.

“It’s all right.” Adam stepped back.

Emma felt the emptiness of her hand, the lack of warmth at her side as Adam and Peter moved to the other side of the room to talk.

Clara turned to Emma. “What happened?”

Emma explained everything. Including the ride in Adam’s truck. That news seemed to disturb Clara more than their grandmother’s illness.

“You let him bring
Grossmammi
here? He’s in the
bann
.”

“It was either that or wait for an ambulance.”

“Maybe you should have waited.”

“There was
nee
time!” Emma lowered her voice. “You should be thanking Adam instead of being angry with him.”

Clara glanced at Adam and Peter, who were still speaking in hushed tones. She focused on Emma again. “How long will she have to stay?”

“They didn’t say. Probably several days, maybe more.”

“Then we’ll have to get the shop open as soon as possible.”

“Is that all you can think about? The stupid fabric shop?” Emma shook her head, let out a weary sigh.

“Nee,”
Clara said, her jaw clenched. “I’m thinking about bills. We can’t afford to pay for this.” Her lower lip shook.

Normally Clara’s fears mirrored her own. But not this time. Emma looked at Adam, who had turned his gaze from Peter. Their eyes met. “God will provide,” she whispered, too softly for Clara to hear.

And suddenly Emma realized that she believed the words as deeply as her grandmother did. “God will provide.”

“
Danki
for bringing Leona, Adam,” Peter said. “Your
daed
came over and told us that she was at the hospital, but he didn’t mention you had brought her here.” He glanced at his wife. “Probably a
gut
thing, seeing Clara’s reaction.”

Adam shrugged. “I know.”

“I understand the reasoning behind
meidung
. But in this case you did the right thing. I’m sure the bishop, if he hears about it, will understand as well.”

The last thing Adam was worried about at the moment was the bishop’s reaction. “Where are the
kinner
?”

“With our neighbor Julia.”

“And Mark?” Adam was surprised he hadn’t come with Peter and Clara. This would be a prime opportunity for him to show Emma how much he
cared
.

“He wasn’t home. Took a walk after supper. He’s been doing that a lot lately.” Peter glanced at his wife, who was still talking to Emma. “To be honest, I’m glad he left.”

“Ya?”

“He seems to get along with the
buwe
well enough . . .” He rubbed his temple. “Let’s just say I’d rather
mei kinner
be with Julia right now.”

Peter’s words fueled Adam’s own suspicions. His own cousin didn’t trust Mark with his children. Adam didn’t trust the man with Emma. He was positive Leona didn’t trust Mark at all.

Clara and Emma approached. Clara stood by Peter and ignored Adam. “There isn’t much we can do here tonight. Emma said she’d stay while they get
Grossmammi
admitted.”

“Ken is still outside waiting.” Adam assumed Peter was talking about the driver who had brought them to the hospital. “I told him not to leave until we knew what was going on.”

Clara turned to Emma. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

Emma nodded. “I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll stay with her,” Adam said. Clara wouldn’t approve, but he didn’t care. Emma didn’t need to be alone right now. To his surprise, Clara nodded. She and Peter left.

“You don’t have to stay.” Emma sat down on one of the chairs. “I’ll be all right here. Dr. Chang will let me know when
Grossmammi
is taken to ICU.”

Adam sat next to her and reached out for Emma’s hand. He wasn’t sure if she would take it. But after a moment or two he felt her cold fingers against his palm.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said.

“Do you want to talk about it, Clara?”

Clara thumbed through the fabric catalogs, ignoring Peter’s question. They had returned from the hospital a couple of hours ago, retrieved the children from Julia’s, and put them to bed. She nibbled at a cuticle as she tried to figure out how much fabric to order. She had to be careful not to spend too much in the beginning, yet they had to have enough inventory to draw people into the shop.

“Clara?” Peter sat down next to her at the kitchen table. A battery-operated lantern on the counter flooded the area with bright light. He took her hand from her lips and held it. “Talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Clara withdrew her hand from Peter’s. “
Grossmammi
is getting
gut
care at the hospital. She’ll be home in a few days. By that time we should have the fabric shop ready to stock. I should probably order this fabric tomorrow. Maybe some yarn too. Knitting needles, thread—”

Mark strolled into the kitchen. “Is this a private discussion?” Without waiting for an answer, he went to the pantry and took out a box of crackers. “Thought I’d get a midnight snack.”

“As a matter of fact, this
is
a private conversation.” Peter stood. “
Mei fraa
and I were talking.”

“About Leona? I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

Clara looked up at him. He spoke the right words, the correct sentiment for the occasion, but there was no warmth in his voice, no compassion. His mouth was twisted in a smirk. His eyes held a strange, triumphant look. He seemed almost . . . happy.

Quickly he cast down his gaze, pulled out a few crackers, and put the package back in the pantry. “I’ll pray for your
grossmammi
, Clara.”

She glanced at her husband. Had she imagined that gleeful spark? Peter’s hand rested on the table, but his fingers were curled under, as if he were trying not to tighten his fist. Had he seen it too?

“Gut nacht.”
Mark hurried out of the room.

“Clara, we have to talk,” Peter said.