Plain Pursuit (3 page)

“Your friend went to bed early,” Samuel said to Lillian when they dressed for bed. “Being from the city, I would expect her to stay up past eight thirty. We’re used to going to bed early and getting up early. I reckon she’s not.”

“She said she was tired from the trip,” Lillian answered, pulling a floor-length white nightgown over her head. “Besides, we’ll have lots of time to catch up.”

“
Ya
, a whole
month
.” Samuel grinned at her.

She poked him. “It will be fine, Samuel,” she said as she slid into bed beside him. Grabbing her book off the nightstand, she dimmed the lantern and pulled it closer to the edge of the table. “I’m going to read for a little while.”

Samuel didn’t fall asleep right away as he normally did. She’d barely finished a page when he propped himself up on one elbow and turned to face her. “She sure is
katzhaarich
.”

Lillian turned to her husband, whose face was drawn down in disapproval. “
Ya
, she is short-haired. But it’s considered very stylish by the
Englisch
.”

Samuel reached over and ran his hand through Lillian’s brown waves, which now cascaded well past her shoulders. She hadn’t cut her hair since her arrival to the district. “Your friend’s hair barely covers her ears,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “It isn’t right. ‘But if a woman have long hair, it is a glory to her: for her hair is given her for a covering.’”

“Good thing I didn’t have short hair when I met you,” Lillian teased, closing her book. She turned to face him.

“I would have loved you anyway,” he assured her.

He wrapped his arms around her and snuggled closer. Lillian closed her eyes and reveled in the comfort of her husband’s embrace, silently thanking God for the wonderful family He had bestowed on her.

Carley quietly maneuvered her way down the stairs, easing up on her weight each time one of the wooden steps creaked. It was completely dark as she shone the light from her cell phone on the steps in front of her. She had slept a whopping three hours before a horrible leg cramp thrust her out of a sound and much-needed sleep.

She tiptoed her way into the kitchen and scanned the countertops. A partial loaf of homemade bread was wrapped in foil inside a clear bag.
Yum.
The warm bread with butter had been so tasty at supper.

Her cell phone offered a dim ray of light, enough for her to fumble the bag open and retrieve one of the precut slices. Then she glanced around the room, blinking at the darkness.
Ah, of course—no
electricity, no microwave.

She placed the bread on a napkin on the table, stepped toward the propane-fueled refrigerator, and pulled the door open. She squinted as the contents lit up, and selected a pitcher of sweet tea and a tub of butter.

Just a little tea and some bread. Then maybe
she could go back to sleep.

Unsure how to light the overhead lantern and unwilling to wake anyone up, she kept her cell phone propped up on the table. The digital clock on the screen read 11:40. Too late to call Adam. He might be awake, but she was sure Cindy and the kids were asleep.

Carley felt bad about her last conversation with her brother. Adam had agreed she needed a vacation, but didn’t think she should spend a month so far from home. Even after explaining the purpose of her trip, he hadn’t let up, and the conversation quickly deteriorated. Both said some things they didn’t really mean, and Carley ended it by hanging up on him.

Adam, her older brother and only sibling, was overprotective. He’d been that way since their father died when she was seven. However, he’d gotten worse over the six months following the accident. When Carley gave up her apartment and moved into their mother’s house, Adam and Cindy moved from across town to right down the street from her. It was too close for comfort, and Carley told them so. But Adam was insistent. And the ever-protective hovering grew worse.

She rubbed her temples. As always when she allowed herself to think of the accident, her mind filled with images. The haunting flashbacks were always the same—the red Chevy pickup barreling into the driver’s side of Mom’s tan Toyota; her mother’s face covered in blood, resting against the steering wheel, eyes widened in horror . . .

Carley gulped down the piece of bread in her mouth and grabbed at her side. The stabbing pain was a reminder of the spiked piece of lumber that had fallen from the truck and rocketed into her, grazing her forearm before implanting itself deep within her abdomen.

If only they hadn’t decided to go to the movies that Christmas Day. If only she’d driven instead of her mother. If only . . .

With feverish intent, she sucked in a deep breath and attempted to visualize something soothing. The gentle swooshing of ocean waves usually helped clear the disturbing memories. She concentrated on recreating the sounds in her head.

I am okay. I will be okay.

She finally calmed down, but she felt drained. Maybe now she’d be able to go back to sleep.

She put her glass in the sink, tossed the napkin into the trash container, and pointed her cell phone toward the stairs. She had only taken a couple of steps upward, when she heard a loud scramble and thud upstairs, followed seconds later by footsteps. Slowing her pace, she listened.

When she heard Lillian cry out, “Samuel! Help! Come quickly!” Carley bolted up the stairs two at a time.

3

CARLEY WATCHED LILLIAN AND SAMUEL HOVERING OVER David, who lay sprawled on the wooden floor of his bedroom. The dimly lit lantern shed enough light for Carley to see blood covering the teenager’s face from his nose to his chin.

Samuel inspected his son’s chin. “It’s not as bad as it looks. You’re gonna be fine, boy,” he whispered to David. “But you will need a few stitches, looks like.”

“I’m sorry, Pop.” David winced in pain. “I don’t know what happened. I got up to go to the bathroom, then everything started going gray. And then I woke up facedown on the floor.”

After handing Samuel a wet rag, Lillian turned to Carley. “Can you drive us to the hospital?”

“Of course,” Carley answered. She’d planned never to set foot in a hospital again. But David’s injuries didn’t look too bad. Hopefully they would get in and out in a hurry.

“Pop, I’m real sorry,” David repeated, flinching when his father applied pressure with the wet towel.

Samuel spoke softly in Pennsylvania
Deitsch
to his son. Carley didn’t understand a thing he said, but his tone was sympathetic and comforting.

After changing out of their nightclothes, they all met downstairs in the kitchen. Samuel sat on the bench next to his son. He removed the blood-soaked rag and placed a clean wet towel against David’s chin.

“We better get going, no?” Lillian asked as she joined them with Anna in her arms.

Carley couldn’t quite get used to Lillian’s new way of speaking. She was impressed by how easily Lillian had adapted to this community, especially the language.

“How far is the hospital?” Carley asked.

“It’s about sixteen miles to Lancaster General,” Lillian said, retrieving a bottle for Anna from the refrigerator. “I’ve already installed the base of the baby carrier in your car. But I’m wondering if we’re all going to fit.”

“It’ll be tight with the car seat, but we’ll make it work.” Carley closed the door behind them all as they made their way to the car. She’d planned to return the rental car after a few days, but now she wasn’t sure she wanted to rely solely on buggy transportation for the next month.

The familiar scent of “hospital” hit Carley the moment the double doors into the ER swung open. The waiting room was filled to capacity.

“This is going to take forever,” Lillian whispered to Carley, her face reflecting the worry in her heart.

I hope not
, Carley thought as she struggled to cast aside the creeping visions of her own hospital memories. She blew out a breath and took a seat, holding Anna while Lillian filled out the appropriate paperwork. Samuel was having another look at David’s chin. Poor David was pale as a ghost, and Carley wondered if he’d ever been inside a hospital before. In addition to the pain he was in, the kid looked scared to death.

Carley noticed the curious stares all around them. Samuel and Lillian pretended not to notice. Maybe they were used to it, but Carley thought it was rude. With so many Amish in the area, she’d assumed their Plain clothes wouldn’t draw attention.

“What do you think happened?” Carley asked Lillian when she saw she was finished with the paperwork.

“I don’t know. From what David said, it sounds like he fainted. He doesn’t remember his face hitting the floor.”

“Has he ever fainted before?”

“No, never.” Lillian stood. “I’m going to go turn in this paperwork. Then I guess we just wait.”

Carley gently rocked Anna while Lillian walked to the line at the receptionist’s desk.

“Pop, I’m not feeling so
gut
.” David bent forward in his chair.

Samuel placed his hand on his son’s back. “I know. Keep the rag on your chin so as not to start up the bleeding again.”

“It’s not my chin, Pop,” David stammered. “I feel . . . I don’t know . . . I feel funny. I . . .”

Samuel grabbed for David’s suspenders just as David fell forward in his chair. “David!” He pulled him back to a sitting position.

“Should I get help?” Carley asked as she stood with Anna in her arms.

“David!” Samuel bellowed again when it appeared David was losing consciousness.

Lillian pushed her way to the front of the line, threw the paperwork on the desk, and ran back to her family. “David!”

All the commotion caught the attention of a doctor coming out of the emergency room. The man walked briskly in their direction.

“What’s the problem?” he asked, squatting down in front of David, who slumped in his chair, barely able to keep from falling off.

Disheveled
was the first word that came to Carley’s mind as she watched the doctor examine David. The man wore a white coat with the requisite stethoscope dangling around his neck. But his shirt was wrinkled and one shirttail protruded from his pants, also in need of a hot iron. His name was printed across a name tag hanging
crookedly on the right side of his coat.
Dr. Noah.
Wavy dark hair, uncharacteristically long for a doctor, framed his face.

Carley and Lillian waited for Samuel to respond. Nothing. Instead, he eyed the doctor with what could only be described as . . . contempt.

Carley could relate—she’d rather be anywhere else than in a hospital. People died in hospitals. She still recalled the way the doctor had delivered the news of her mother’s death. Distant. Cold. Just a day on the job for him. Then he had returned the next day with the same detached expression and delivered Carley more bad news—this time about her own health. He’d mechanically spewed out words that would change her life forever, and did so without an ounce of compassion.

Samuel’s eyes narrowed, his chin lifting as he stiffened.

When David flinched from the doctor’s touch, Samuel leaned forward. “Don’t—” He drew a breath, released it slowly. Pressing his lips together, stifling his words, he locked eyes with the doctor, who was waiting for an answer—from someone.

Lillian glanced at her husband and waited for a response before turning toward the doctor. “He fell and hit his chin at home,” she said when Samuel didn’t say anything. “We think he fainted. Now he seems like he might pass out again.”

“Can you hear me?” Dr. Noah asked David.

David nodded. About the same time, a nurse approached, pushing a wheelchair. “Here you go, Doctor,” she offered.

“I don’t need a wheelchair,” David argued. He stood up, his legs wobbly.

“David, maybe you should sit and—,” Lillian pleaded.

David just shook his head. “I can walk.”

“All right, then. Come with me,” the doctor said to David.

He ushered David down the hallway, bypassing the evaluation rooms and heading right to the main emergency room. When he pushed the round button on the wall, the large double doors swung open. He motioned for David to walk ahead of him then turned to face Carley, Samuel, and Lillian, who was now toting Anna.