A Heart Made New (7 page)

“What about the bill?”

The clerk made a show of studying a computer screen that he couldn’t see from his side of the counter. “Well, it shows here that your mother took care of it, Mr. Plank.”

He didn’t like to be called Mr. Plank. Not even his father had used that courtesy title. They were simple folks. No need for titles. He also disliked that his mother tried to carry his burdens for him. She shouldn’t be using her funds from the bakery to take care of his medical bills.

“How could she? When?”

“She made arrangements before she left yesterday. In fact, it looks like we’ll owe her some money. She insisted on paying a lump sum in advance.” The clerk smiled again. “Sweet woman, your mother. She said you would be upset and to tell you not to take it out on me.”

Sounded like his mother. He would straighten this out when he returned to the house later. Right now, he had to get to the horse auction. Making an appearance would reassure his brothers that he could still carry his weight—at the farm and at the bakery.

Ignoring the disapproving glare of the nurse, he sidestepped the wheelchair and strode down the hallway. He couldn’t get to the door fast enough, and he didn’t need a wheelchair to do it. His desire to flee the building propelled him quicker than wheels could.

“Mister. Mister David!” The sound of a small, high voice brought him out of his reverie. A head covered with the slightest brown peach fuzz peeked through a doorway. “
Pssst!
Over here!”

David slowed. Kinsey looked both ways down the long hallway. Empty except for the nurse who was headed in the opposite direction. Holding pink rabbit-eared slippers in her hands, Kinsey traipsed barefoot across the space that separated them. “Hey, where are you going?”

“Home.”

“No fair.” Her bottom lip protruded and her sky blue eyes turned stormy. “I want to go home.”

“Your doctor knows best.” The door to freedom beckoned only a few feet away. Apparently, Kinsey was trying to make a break for it. David sidled past her. “He’ll send you home soon enough.”

Or God would take her home. David mentally banged a hand against his head.
Stupid.
He had no idea what Kinsey’s prognosis might be. Whether she would go home at all. Not every cancer patient did. He had no right to get her hopes up. He sucked in air and faced her. She looked so sad. “How long have you been here?”

“This time?”

This time. He knew that feeling. “Yes.”

“I mark the days off on the calendar in my room before I go to sleep at night.” She wrinkled her nose. “Last night, it was seven.”

Seven days. A lifetime for a child—or an adult, for that matter. He glanced at the empty wheelchair still parked in front of the discharge station. “What floor are you on?”

“Second.”

“Come on.” Her mother was probably searching frantically this very moment. “How about I give you a ride?”

“I ride in those things all the time.” Her face turned morose, but she made an effort to smile. Her lips were chapped and cracked. “I want
to ride on a horse. A black stallion. Named King. I wanna ride real fast and jump over big logs and rivers and gallop all over the place.”

“Horses are okay too, but you’ve never ridden in a chair pushed by me.” David had ridden horses his whole life. They were simply a form of transportation to him. She spoke like a city kid who read a lot of books. He bowed and swept his arm out in an exaggerated flourish. “Your buggy awaits you.”

Kinsey’s gaze strayed toward the double doors. Her shoulders slumped, she climbed into the chair and stuck her slippers on her feet. “Whatever.”

The discharge clerk frowned. David leaned over the desk and whispered, “I’m taking her back upstairs. Her mother will be looking for her.”

“I should really call a nurse—”

“I’ve been coming here for how long?”

“Too long, Mr. Plank. Just go directly there.” She pushed her glasses up a long nose and smiled. “Do not pass go. Do not collect two hundred dollars.”

He smiled back. Even Plain folks got that reference. “Promise.”

He grabbed the handles. He would be late for the horse auction, but his brothers would hold a spot for him. “We’re off!”

He pushed her as fast as he could safely. His stomach lurched and his legs trembled, but he didn’t slow down.

“Faster!” Grinning, Kinsey clapped her hands. “Faster, faster!”

He wanted to oblige her, but his body wouldn’t let him.

Fortunately, the elevator door loomed. He slid the chair sideways and slapped the button.
Thank You, Lord, for short hallways and long elevator rides.

Strange prayer for a Plain man. God would understand. So would the deacon, were he here. Thankfully, he wasn’t.

On the second floor, he gave Kinsey a repeat performance. They were at her door in seconds. Gasping, he tugged it open. “Home sweet home.”

Home it was. David got a quick impression of walls covered with pictures—some torn from magazines, some hand-drawn—all of
horses. The bed was covered with a bright green and blue quilt and stuffed animals of every variety. In the middle of all that chaos stood Kinsey’s mom, hands on her hips. The purple dress was gone. Today she wore a waitress uniform with the words
HomeTown Restaurant
embroidered over the white shirt pocket.

“There you are. I was just coming to look for you—again. You’re making Grammy crazy!”

“I’m sorry, Mommy.” Kinsey climbed out of the chair and crawled into bed. She closed her eyes. “I’m sleepy now. Go away.”

Willow’s face crumpled and her hands went to her mouth.

“Goodnight, Kinsey.” David backed toward the doorway. “I’d better return the chair.”

To his chagrin, Willow followed him to the door.

“Thanks for bringing her back.” Her voice barely above a whisper, she sniffed and wiped at her face with a wadded-up tissue. “Her Grammy doesn’t have the energy to keep up with her—it’s like herding a cat. She called me, said she had a migraine. I came quick as I could.”

“Kinsey said you were at work.” David didn’t remember seeing Willow around. Bliss Creek was a small town. Not that it was any of his business. “I’d better go.”

Willow kept talking, seemingly unaware of David’s hand on the door or his desire to flee. “I got a job waitressing to try to cover the bills. It helps some, and my aunt helps too. She’s so sweet to us.”

“What about your…husband…Kinsey’s father?” David wanted to reel in the question before it escaped his mouth. It was none of his business. The Englischers didn’t always have family the way Plain folks did. A father and a mother married and together. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my—”

“He’s not in the picture. I didn’t have insurance so I had to sell everything we had to help pay the medical bills. When that was gone, I came here to stay with my aunt. Kinsey calls her Grammy. She’s a godsend.”

No husband. No father. No man to carry his share of the load. It
wasn’t right. David glanced at the walls covered with horses. “She said something about riding horses.”

“She hasn’t been able to go to school much since we moved here so she spends a lot of time reading books. You know, like
Black Beauty
.” Willow touched a drawing that featured a purple horse wearing a ribbon around a long stick neck. “She thinks we should get a horse and she should get to ride it. Like we could afford that. She just knows she read a book and it sounded like fun.”

David couldn’t imagine not being able to ride a horse. Around Bliss Creek, children learned to ride before they learned to muck the stalls and feed the chickens. “You don’t know how to ride?”

“Me? I grew up in Kansas City. I can handle a Harley, but a horse? And even if I could ride one, how would I afford it?”

“When she gets better, when she gets out, maybe…I mean…every farm around Bliss Creek has horses.” David plucked at his suspenders. He was the youngest child in his family. He had no experience with children. “There are a couple of stables where you can take lessons—”

Willow motioned him into the hallway. He followed, drawn by the excruciating pain in the woman’s face. It looked so familiar. She sank against the wall, her hands to her cheeks. “She’s not getting better. I don’t think she’s getting out. Not permanently, anyway.”

David contemplated her choked, tear-soaked words. He understood the depths of her desperation, but somehow seeing it on her face made him realize how it must look to others. Like giving up. Such a lack of faith and hope. “Doctors can do so much now.”

Willow shook her head, her hands still glued to her face. After a few moments she straightened and dropped them.

“Kinsey has acute myelogenous leukemia. Usually adults get it, not kids.” Willow wrapped her arms around her middle as if the clinic’s refrigerated air chilled her. “She needs a bone marrow transplant, but we haven’t been able to find a match. Her dad was Latino. I’m Caucasian. Which makes her a hard match.”

Even with his own experiences David knew little of this sort of thing, but he nodded. “So you’ll keep looking until you find this match.”

“If only it were that easy.” She blew her nose hard with a sodden tissue, the sound loud in the empty hallway. “I’m sorry to dump all this on you, practically a stranger. You have your own problems. Go home to your family. To that pretty girl with the green eyes. She must be waiting for you.”

“No. She’s not waiting.” At least he hoped not. “If there is anything I can do…”

He stopped. The urge to help was too strong to ward off. If nothing else, it would take his mind off his own problems. Clear away the wooly cotton in his brain. “We have horses. I could give her lessons.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Worry and fear creased Willow’s face. “Her immune system is weak from the chemo. I don’t want her to be exposed to a lot of germs.”

“I understand.” David tipped his hat. Kinsey’s mother had the last word on what was best for her daughter. “I’d better go, then.”

He started down the hall.

“Wait.”

He glanced back.

“Do you have a black horse?”

“No. But there are black horses around.”

“She’s seven years old.”

Small for her age. Her growth stunted by her disease.

“Yes.” He waited for Willow to marshal the words. She seemed to be having an argument with herself. She had to convince herself. He had no part in that fight.

“She hasn’t done one fun thing in over a year. Not one. Just needle pokes and tests and medicine that makes her throw up and pain and more pain.”

David nodded. Nothing to say to that. He could picture every stage. The feeling sick and not getting better. The doctor’s appointments. The tests. The diagnosis. The downward spiral into a never-ending series of new lows brought on by milestones in the treatment. He waited.

“Maybe I’ll think about it. The riding, I mean.” Her fingers wrapped around her thick braids and held on tight, her knuckles white with the
force of her grip. “I want her to have some fun, you know. She should have some fun.”

“I’ll see if I can find a black horse.”

“A stallion?”

“A beauty.”

Her already wet eyes filled once more with tears. “A beauty,” she agreed.

T
ugging Mark along, Josiah followed Luke past the booths selling produce, tack, and crafts to the doors of the fairgrounds arena. Mark wanted to stop and look at things, but Josiah didn’t want to lose sight of their older brother. In this crowd, they might not find each other again until the horse auction ended.

“Stinks around here, doesn’t it?” A mischievous grin on his face, Mark put two fingers on his nose. “
Pe-uuu
! Smells like you after a day at the shop.”

Josiah grinned, refusing to take offense. He breathed deeply instead. The smell of manure, horseflesh, and sweat mingled with the aroma of sweet hay in the hot, moist air. It reminded him of long summer days when he was younger and Daed told him to muck out the horse stalls. Things had seemed simple then. Before the rumspringa and girls and decisions about baptism.

“It’s the smell of prosperity for a farmer.” Josiah grinned at his younger brother. “Breathe it in,
bruder
. This is your future.”

Mark skipped back a step and bumped into an older man with a cane.

“Watch it, little boy.” The man managed to stay upright and he didn’t sound too upset. “Us older folks aren’t as spry as we used to be.”

“Sorry—”

“Keep up!”

Luke’s terse tone made Josiah jolt forward, Mark in tow. Luke had been grumpy from the moment they left the house, totally ignoring Mark’s excited chatter. The boy had never been to an auction and Luke seemed bent on spoiling it for him. Josiah kept waiting for him to say something about Sarah. His demeanor meant something had happened, but whatever it was, Luke didn’t seem to want to share it.

They squeezed in between a couple of Englischers who were deep in a conversation about combines and grabbed a spot against the railing. They’d have a decent vantage point.

“See, there’s the sorrel I told you about.” Luke pointed to a sturdy-looking mare. “Samuel Hartenstein says she’s trained and reliable. She’s a little on the small side, but he says she’s a good worker.”