A Heart Made New (33 page)

They made it, one torturous step after another, to the porch. Time stretched and stretched as if the moments refused to pass. What was taking Josiah so long? Emma’s breathing sounded labored and harsh. Annie stroked her back, “It’s all right. It’ll be all right.”

Finally, Josiah pulled the wagon in front of the porch. Leah rushed forward and climbed into the back where she spread quilts and blankets with a quick, sweeping motion.

Thomas and Luke lifted Emma into the wagon. Annie scrambled in after her, the evening breeze cool on her sweaty face.
God, please. Emma has waited so long for this baby.

Determined not to cry, she settled a pillow under her sister’s head and smoothed her crooked kapp so it covered her blond bun. “Is that all right?”

Emma nodded, but the taut line of her lips and the tears in her eyes said otherwise.

Annie reached for her hand. “Breathe, breathe in and out.”

The wagon jolted forward on the pitted gravel road. Emma groaned.

“Sorry!” Thomas turned and gripped the back of his seat with both hands. “I’m sorry.”

Emma’s hold on Annie’s hand tightened. “Not your fault.”

Thomas turned back to the road. Emma pulled Annie closer, her voice tight with fear. Annie leaned in. “What is it?”

“My skirt is wet.” A sob hung in the air between them. Annie couldn’t be sure if it was hers or Emma’s. “Is it…is it blood?”

Annie closed her eyes. She had to be brave for Emma. “Don’t worry. We’ll have you to the clinic in no time at all. They’ll take care of you.”

Emma writhed on the blanket, her body wracked with sobs. “It’s blood, isn’t it?”

The wagon rocked and jerked forward. Thomas reached back and caught his wife’s hand. The dark hid his expression. “Hang on, hang on!”

The night air rushed around them. Annie tried to pray, but the dark sky pressed in on her.
God, why?
Dare she ask that question? God’s plan was far too big for one small Plain woman to understand. Did she intend to take only the good from Him and not the bad?
God, help me to understand.

Never had a ride into Bliss Creek lasted longer, Annie was certain of that. When the clinic came into sight, she wanted to dive from the wagon. “We’re here, Emma. We’re here, schweschder.”

Luke and Thomas carried Emma into the emergency room. Annie rushed after them, leaving Josiah to deal with the horse and wagon. She looked down to shield her eyes from the harsh glare of the florescent overhead lights. A dark stain on the hem of her apron caught her eye. She touched it. Her fingertip came away wet and red.

David wiggled around on his chair to get more comfortable, then stretched his arm over the Monopoly board perched on Kinsey’s hospital bed. “One, two, three, four, five…” He let his little silver car piece dangle over the spot where he must land. “No!”

“Yes!” Kinsey crowed and clapped her hands. The motion caused the board to shake and her hotels to slide from one colored square to another. “Whoops! You’re on my hotel. You owe me a million billion bucks.”

David forced a smile. He was reduced to playing Monopoly on a hospital bed because his family insisted he wasn’t well enough to work. Not working only made him weaker. His body needed physical labor. His muscles were soft, his hands getting softer. Like a woman.

“David!” Kinsey jiggled his arm. “Pay attention. Are you getting tired?”

He straightened. “No.”

“Good. Don’t chicken out on me now that I’m winning. Fork it over, buddy.”

“This game brings out the greed in people.” David counted out the small bills. “It’s not very nice.”

“It’s not the money.” Kinsey snatched the pile from David and counted it again. “I just like winning.”

“Well, no problem there. You have all the hotels and trains. Things aren’t going to get any better.”

Kinsey plunked the money on the board and sank back against the enormous pile of pillows that kept her upright. She sniffed. “That’s what they think about me.”

David didn’t bother to pretend he didn’t know what she meant. The smudges under her eyes looked like bruises, her white skin stretched tight against angular cheek bones. He’d seen animal corpses with more meat on them. The thought made his supper of corned beef and cabbage roil in his stomach. “You’re stronger than you were yesterday.”

“Sure. Wanna arm wrestle?”

“I might get tangled up in that IV.”

“I don’t want that. The doctors say the drugs are important.” She giggled. “I could beat you left-handed, you know.”

David knew about the drugs. They dulled the pain, but never quite vanquished it. He could tell from the way her breath caught and the lines deepened around her small mouth. But she didn’t complain. He forced himself to laugh with her. It seemed the weaker she grew, the more her spirit blossomed.

Despite an air of being much older than her years, she still had a sweet, infectious laugh that reflected her childishness. The laugh turned
into a cough that deepened and became choking. David grabbed her arm and tugged her forward. He slapped her back. “Breathe, just breathe.”

The coughing subsided, but her breathing came in short, ugly gasps. “I’m okay.”

No, not really. “You scared me for a second.”

“Don’t be scared.” She leaned back and took a deep, long breath, then let it out. Her gaze dropped to the game, its pieces now scattered across her blankets. “Can I tell you a secret?”

Something in her tone made David feel the need to stand. Whatever secrets she shared would be kept in his heart, come what may. “I’m good at keeping secrets.”

The hand with the IV needle taped to its back side plucked at her blanket. She met his gaze and smiled. “I’m ready to go.”

“Go where? Your mom says it’ll be at least a couple of more days. They want to do another round of tests and then they’re looking at a different course of treatment—”

“I thought you’d get it.”

She sounded so disappointed.

“Visiting hours are over.” He picked up the game pieces and put them back in the box. “Time for you to sleep.”

“If I can’t tell you, who can I tell?” She flipped the box over with both hands, spilling everything out again. Her face scrunched up in anger, she turned toward the wall. “Go away.”

David picked up the pieces again, the red and green hotels, the little metal car—Kinsey thought it was funny that he liked using that piece as his—the bills, and the cards. “God decides when it’s time for you to go.”

“I’ve talked to Him about it and I told Him I’m tired of this.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I know it’ll make Mommy and Grammy sad, but I’m tired.”

The lump in David’s throat grew until he thought he might choke on it. “You haven’t ridden Blackie cross-country yet. I still have to teach you to jump.”

“Please.” The entreaty in her voice made his heart squeeze. “Don’t be like them.”

“Like who?”

“Mommy and Grammy.”

“How are they?”

“They keep saying I have to get better.”

David knew where she was going. He didn’t want to follow. He owed it to her mother to hold out hope. Everyone always told him faith and hope were necessary to physical healing. “You don’t want to ride Blackie again?”

“I’m tired,” she whispered. “I want to sleep.”

“Rest and we’ll talk tomorrow about another lesson.”

“Tomorrow.” Kinsey’s eyes drooped shut. “Maybe.”

David set the Monopoly box on the nightstand. He lifted the bed rail, snapped it in place, and stood there, fingers tight around the bar, until her breathing became soft and regular. “It’s okay to let go.” His whisper sounded raspy in his ears. He breathed. “If you have to go, go. God will hold your hand.”

He closed his eyes.
Hold her hand. Hold our hands. Don’t let us be so selfish that she suffers one more day because she can’t disappoint us. If You think she’s ready, take her. But if it isn’t her time, strengthen her body. Give her relief from her pain.

The squeak of the door made him jump. He kept his head down and took a quick swipe at his face.

“Mr. Plank?”

He sniffed and cleared his throat. “It’s David.”

The night nurse slipped up to the bed. “Out like a light?”

He nodded and moved away.

The nurse took Kinsey’s pulse and checked the IV. “Your visits really perk her up. Her mother appreciates it, I know. Gives her a little respite. She or her aunt are here pretty much round the clock.” She glanced at her watch. “They’ll be back any minute, if you want to go on home. I’ll stay with her ’til then.”

Still unable to speak, he nodded and fled the room. Kinsey would never tell her mudder what she’d told him. She’d offered him the gift of the sheer honesty of a child. He’d been unable to step up to the task
and accept it. Instead, he’d offered her the same platitudes Willow and the doctors did. At seven, she was far braver than he.

Shamed by the thought, he punched the elevator button with more force than necessary. The door opened and he squeezed in next to a nurse and her patient in a wheelchair. Her smile did nothing to calm his spirit. Miracles did happen. God might infuse Kinsey’s body with newfound strength and health. Or God might ask David to accept Kinsey’s death. He might ask him to accept his own. Acceptance of God’s will. Faith in God’s plan. Kinsey’s words echoed in his head. She’d talked with God. They had it all worked out. All that remained was for her to walk into the arms of God.

The faith of a child. He shoved away the thought and waited for the nurse to exit with her patient. Head down, he shuffled through the hallway, anxious to leave this place with its smells that reminded him of suffering. The sound of a soft sob wafting from a nearby waiting room compounded that feeling. He couldn’t help himself. He looked to his left to see who might be making such a mournful sound.

Annie.

Her eyes red, she held a crumpled handkerchief to her mouth as if trying to muffle the sound. The air sucked from his lungs, David reversed course. He stumbled over his own feet trying to get to her. “Annie, what is it? What happened?” He sank to one knee so he could see her downcast face. “Tell me, what is it?”

“David?” She swiped at her nose. Horrible sadness mingled with sudden fear. “What are you doing here? Are you all right?”

“Kinsey’s back in the hospital.” David peered at Annie’s face. Her skin was ashen. “What happened? Is someone hurt?”

“It’s Emma.” She twisted the hanky. Her gaze dropped. “I think she lost her baby.”

A knot in his chest where his heart should be, David sank into the chair next to her. “Are you sure? They can do great things here.”

A red blotch on Annie’s apron caught his gaze. He sighed.

Annie’s finger circled the spot without touching it.

“I don’t think so.” She managed a faint smile. “But Emma will be fine. She and Thomas will try again.”

“
Ach
, Annie.”

“What?”

“You don’t always have to put on a strong front.”

“That’s funny, coming from you.”

Finding no response to that observation, David glanced around the waiting room. “Where is everyone?”

“Thomas is with Emma. Luke and Josiah went back to the house to get her things. In the morning, they have to do some kind of surgery to…you know. Anyway, she has to stay for another day.” Her breath came in a half-sob, half-hiccup. “I want to see her and give her a hug before I go. Thomas will come get me when she’s ready for visitors.”

David’s hands clenched involuntarily. There was nothing he could do to make it better. The depth of his desire to do something, anything, startled him. After all that he’d been through, and all he’d seen, he still thought he was in control.
God, I’m sorry. Please forgive me for my big pride. I can do nothing without You.

“I’m sorry about the baby.” He edged a little closer. The words were so inadequate. “I wish I could do something.”

“And I’m sorry about your friend Kinsey.” She swayed a little. David doubted she realized it. “I’m sorry about your Hodgkin’s.”

“Me too.” He wanted to comfort her, but he had no right to touch her. And he had so little comfort to give. He couldn’t imagine why a godly woman like Emma would lose a baby she wanted so badly. Kinsey. Emma’s baby. David’s father. Annie’s parents. Loss surrounded them. It was wrong to question God’s plan, yet every day he did. “Do you ever wonder what all this means?”