A Simple Faith: A Lancaster Crossroads Novel (16 page)

At that, Graciana lifted her gaze to really look at him. “That’s right.”

“Here’s my card. I’m on staff here, so you can always reach me through the hospital directory.”

She tucked the card in a pocket and nodded. “Thank you.” She leaned down to hug Elsie, and then kissed Haley on the cheek. “You’re good girls, good people, but I need to go. My brother is picking me up.”

“Would you like me to walk you to the door and help you find him?” Dylan offered.

“No.” She shook her head. “You stay with these girls, Doctor. Help these girls feel better. They deserve it.” Graciana kissed her fingertips, reached for Haley and Elsie once more, then headed down the corridor.

Elsie and Haley stared at each other, a tint of sadness in their eyes. Then Elsie opened her arms and they shared a hug.

“I can’t believe it,” Haley said. “Graciana is donating Clara’s organs. What kind of grace does it take to make that decision for your own daughter?”

“She was only seventeen,” Elsie murmured. “That’s what Graciana told me. Such a sad thing.”

Haley looked up at Dylan. “Do you think Graciana heard you? Do you think she’ll get some counseling? She’s definitely going to need it.”

“She’s overwhelmed right now.” He noticed the genuine weariness that weighed Elsie down as she fished coins out of a satchel. “We’re all feeling the stress, and I imagine you both must be exhausted. It’s well after midnight.”

“I don’t remember the last time I was up this late.” Elsie fed the coins into the machine and pressed a button for a sandwich. “Fanny needs to eat something. I told her she’s got to keep up her strength.”

Dylan searched his memory but did not remember a Fanny on the list. “Where is Fanny now?”

“In the room with Dat. She won’t leave his side. Emma and Caleb took the little ones home for the night. Emma wants to teach her class tomorrow—trying to keep things as normal as possible. But Fanny won’t leave Dat’s side.”

He remembered Fanny was Thomas Lapp’s wife. “Can I meet her?”

“If you come to the room with me. But there’s only two visitors at a time.”

“That’s okay.” He tapped the hospital ID card hanging around his neck. “I’ve got a pass.”

Dylan spent a quiet half hour with Elsie Lapp; her stepmother, Fanny; and her father, Thomas. Fanny was obviously pregnant, and Elsie explained that the hospital had given Thomas a room with an empty bed because Fanny needed to stay off her feet.

Although Thomas was on a breathing apparatus that moved his chest up and down with each whoosh of air, Fanny and Elsie spoke to him as if he were quietly watching from beneath the crisp white sheets and medical lines and tubes. They talked of repairs on the old carriage house, and their plans to start a wheelwright business or a harness shop. Fanny talked about the little ones, who had gone home with Emma and Caleb, and Elsie assured Thomas that the children would be back to visit in the morning.

Dylan knew nothing of the man’s medical prognosis, but the atmosphere in the room was warm and homey. This was a place of profound love, and any man would consider himself blessed to have such a family.

When he saw that Fanny was dozing off, he waved good-bye to Elsie and slipped out the door. Elsie followed him into the hall.

“Thank you for visiting,” she told him. “I’m a little worried about Fanny. Her first husband died, and now to face this terrible thing. All this stress and she’s already sick with preeclampsia. What do you think?”

“She’s doing as well as anyone would expect. It’s good that she’s getting rest. I’ll be happy to stop in tomorrow. Once she’s gotten some rest, she might want to talk.”

“Good.” With a sigh, Elsie smoothed down the hair at her forehead. “I know it’s a sin to worry, but my heart is so heavy right now. I hope you’re looking after Haley, too. She’s an angel. Smart and a caring person, too. But she’s been through a lot, coming up on our smashed-up van like that.”

“I’ll keep an eye on Haley, but how about you?” Dylan asked. “You were actually in the van. That must have been frightening.”

“Ya. I keep seeing it, every time I close my eyes.” Her face puckered for just a moment, then it smoothed out again.

Dylan knew it wasn’t unusual for a victim to keep flashing back to a moment of crisis. “Sometimes that happens to people in your situation. It helps to talk about it, and there are other therapies that—”

“I’m fine, thank Gott in heaven. It’s the others … I think they’re going to need your help.”

“I’m on it,” he assured her. “And don’t hesitate to give me a call. I’m here for you, or anyone else in your family. Anyone else in your community.”

“Thank you.” She nodded, then returned to the room.

Dylan returned to the waiting room on the third floor and found most of the people asleep or hunkered down for quiet time. It was late, and he had probably done enough for now. He would check in with these folks in the morning.

He headed out of the hospital, noticing that the place had a very different face at night when the elevators were nearly empty and most of the traffic in the corridors came from janitors and their carts. So much happened within the confines of this building—life and death and pain—but he was glad to see the old girl at a calm moment.

Downstairs in the main lobby, he came upon Haley, who had said she was leaving half an hour ago.

For some reason, she stood, a statue in the lobby, staring out at the lights of the parking lot through tinted glass. She wore her coat and hat—gloves, too—but she didn’t seem to have any intention of stepping outside.

“Haley?”

She flinched, startled.

“I thought you’d be well on your way home by now.”

“Oh … Yeah. I’m on my way.”

“Want me to walk you out to the parking lot?”

“Okay.” The bewilderment in her eyes was hard to read, but he sensed her distress.

The doors whooshed open, they walked out, and Haley burst into tears.

“I can’t … I can’t do this.” She turned to Dylan and clung to his shoulder. “Please take me home.”

Aching for her, he put his arms around her and gave her a big bear hug. He should have expected this. She’d been through a major trauma. “You’re exhausted. Overwrought …”

“And I can’t drive. I can’t get on Route 30 and go past that stretch where … the SUV just cut right across the center and … It was so violent. The sound of the impact and … the randomness of it. One car crossed the line and look what happened. Someone is dead now. Lives are changed, forever.”

He patted her back, maintaining a therapeutic touch despite the depth of emotion that crossed the line of patient-therapist. “You’re right.”

“Clara Estevez is dead.” She pulled away, and though he let his arms slip away he wanted to hold on. “She made a stupid mistake and it killed her. And do you know what her mother said? That … that she was in heaven now. That the angels had taken her away. But you and I know she’s just … dead. Gone. Flatline.”

It was unusual for a medical professional to hit this wall so early in her career, but Dylan had seen it before. “It’s good that Graciana can find solace in her faith. Many people in crisis turn to their faith. It can be a valuable source of support.”

A tear slipped down Haley’s cheek as she sniffed. “I wish the angels did take her away. It would be so much better than what really happened. I saw her, you know. She was covered in blood and …” She shook her head. “It was horrible.”

“And you’ve held it in all this time, haven’t you? You kept your
emotional response tamped down so that you could be professional.”

“I had to. I had to keep moving and try to make the best decisions for everyone out there. Everyone needed attention in one way or another.”

“And you gave them what they needed. A spectacular job, from what I’ve heard around here. You did everything you could, Haley. You’re a hero, sweetheart. But you’re going to have an emotional reaction to the trauma, too. We need to talk about it, probably more than you will want. We’ll schedule some sessions. And you might want to try guided imagery therapy, too.”

She swiped at the tears on her cheeks. “Can I come to the group therapy sessions with the Amish victims?”

“Sure.” Right now, he wasn’t so sure there were going to be any sessions, since the Amish response so far had been a resounding no. But if he and Haley got things going, some Amish people might drop in.

She took a deep, ragged breath, her eyes sweeping over the parking lot. “I guess I can drive soon. I mean, aren’t you supposed to get back up onto the horse that throws you?”

“Not necessarily.” He wanted to kick himself for not reading the signs of her distress earlier. “I’ll drive you home tonight. We can use my GPS to find a way to your house that doesn’t include Route 30.”

Obviously relieved, she let out a breath and looked back at him. “Okay.”

Her eyes, wide and trusting and full of pain, evoked something deep inside him, something that had been buried for years.

Buried forever, or so he’d thought.

18

R
uben Zook leaned against the hitching post outside the candy shop and watched as her hands turned the OPEN sign on the door to CLOSED.

Now was the time.

He intended to pay Elsie a visit, but when he’d first arrived on this busy part of Main Street, he didn’t expect to see all the customers filling the aisles of the Lapps’ store. Such a business they had now. That was not how he had imagined his visit with Elsie, and he’d been thinking about it these past days, waiting for the shop to open so that he could see her.

For three days, the Country Store had been closed, on account of Elsie and her family spending as much time as they could at the hospital. The little ones were staying with a friend now, as they weren’t allowed in to see their dat, who was still in a coma, still sleeping.

Since the accident, Ruben had tried to get to the hospital to see
Elsie and pay respects to her family, but carfare was expensive, and his dat didn’t see the need to trade a day of work for a day spent sitting in a hospital. “No need to pay your respects now,” his father had told him. “You’ll see these folk soon enough when they return. Maybe even at church next week.”

He couldn’t tell his father that next week was not soon enough … that ever since the accident, he thought of Elsie Lapp constantly, and he needed to check on her and make sure there wasn’t anything she needed. Because Elsie was one of those people who didn’t take things for herself. She made sure everyone else was all right first. A heart of gold, that girl, and somehow, since that cold day on the highway, Ruben felt that Gott was making it his job to protect that good heart.

He crossed the street, and then quickly shifted his hat down to cover his face from the reporters who had stood outside the shop all afternoon. Usually, as a courtesy, most media folks didn’t photograph an Amish person without permission, knowing that it went against their beliefs to be cast in a “graven image.” But Ruben shielded his face from their view. You never knew when one of those photographers was going to break the unspoken rule.

They had been hanging around Halfway ever since the accident, looking for people to interview. It seemed like an odd way to spend the day, waiting for someone to talk to you about a terrible thing. If Ruben was going to wait around, he’d want to be hunting or fishing, waiting for something that would make a good dinner, at least.