The Restoration (39 page)

Walking down the corridor toward Priscilla’s voice, Elam heard her crying out in pain. Over and over she screamed, as he moved in her direction. “I’m
coming, Priscilla, hang on!” Elam struggled, concentrating on moving his legs. It felt as if he were stuck in quicksand.

When he finally made it to her room, it seemed to be shrouded in fog. “Why would someone leave the window open?” Elam closed it to keep the cool air out. Then he shut the curtains and turned on the small lamp near Priscilla’s bed. “I’m here, Priscilla. It’ll be okay.” Hoping to reassure her, Elam smoothed the damp hair on her forehead.

“Elam, please take the pain away.” Priscilla moaned. “Nothing they’ve given me has helped.”

Elam was beside himself. If the pain medication the doctors were giving her didn’t help, what would? He wanted to be strong for Priscilla, and to encourage her every step of the way. Bending over the bed, Elam pulled her into his arms.

Priscilla gasped. “No, Elam, it hurts too much!”

Elam immediately drew back, not wanting to add to her pain. Feeling useless, he thought it might be better to leave, but his heart told him to stay.

“Go away, Elam,” Priscilla murmured. “Go away.”

Tearfully, Elam turned toward the door but halted when David appeared. Walking past Elam without so much as a word, David went to the side of Priscilla’s bed. “I thought I turned the stove off,” he murmured. “Will you forgive me, Priscilla?”

Lifting her hands, Priscilla said, “Look what you’ve done to me. I never want to see you again, David.”

Elam sensed David’s rejection, for he felt it, too.

David turned to face Elam. “I love her, but I know she’ll never be mine.” He turned and walked out of the room, disappearing into the darkened corridor.

Elam was on the verge of leaving, too, when Priscilla called out to him: “Elam, don’t go! I need you. You’re the only one I can trust.”

Drenched in sweat and with heart pounding, Elam bolted upright in bed. Shaking from head to toe, it was hard to get air into his lungs. Covering his eyes with his hands and propping his elbows on his knees, he tried to calm himself with the realization it had only been a dream.

The cool evening air blew through his open window as his breathing returned to normal. Elam groaned, using the sheet to wipe perspiration from his forehead. “Will I ever be able to sleep without having nightmares about Priscilla?”

Slowly, he rose from the bed and made his way to the bathroom down the hall. Bending over the sink, he splashed cold water on his face and rubbed some on his neck. Then he took his wet fingers and dampened his hair. He should never have lain down for a nap this afternoon, but visiting with Priscilla earlier today had taken its toll on his nerves. Sleep was the only way he’d been able to escape.

Elam straightened, staring at his image in the mirror. Behind him lightning reflected on the walls, while thunder rolled in the distance as a storm announced its approach. As he took a towel and dried the last droplets of water from his forehead, Elam murmured, “Are things going to get even worse?”

A
fter three days in the hospital, Priscilla came home. It was good to be in familiar surroundings again, but everything had changed. She’d lost her optimistic, spontaneous attitude, and now struggled with depression.

Mom had covered her burns with B&W ointment and placed scalded burdock leaves, now cooled, over the top to hold the salve in place. Once the injury sites had been completely covered with salve and leaves, the area was wrapped with a conforming piece of gauze. The wrapping was firm enough to keep the leaves from sliding, but not too tight to cause pressure or pain.

Following that, Mom wrapped an absorbent pad with a waterproof backing around Priscilla’s chest, shoulders, and arms and taped it in place. She would redress the wounds every twelve hours. Even the folds and digits of Priscilla’s hands had to be covered with B&W ointment and burdock leaves in order to keep them from growing together.

Priscilla’s palms and fingers had to be straightened and flattened while healing. If left un-straightened, they could heal like a claw with a cupped palm, which would disable Priscilla for life.

After dressing Priscilla’s hands the same way she had her arms, Mom cut a piece of corrugated cardboard the width of Priscilla’s hands and length from her fingertips to her wrist, which she then placed on the back of her hand, over the top of the dressing. The flattened palm and fingers were wrapped against the cardboard with a gauze roll.

Priscilla felt like a scarecrow. She figured she probably looked like one, too. Lying against the pillow, she said, “Well, at least my allergies have quieted down. Guess being in the hospital with the air-conditioning may have helped with that.”

“The good rainfall we had on Sunday night washed the pollen off everything, too.” Mom got everything ready for the next dressing change.

“Whatever the reason, I’m glad I don’t have to blow my nose right now. Don’t know what I’ll do if that happens.”

“We’ll worry about it when the time comes, or if you feel a sneeze coming on.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t.” Priscilla groaned. “I sure don’t need anyone wiping my nose for me. It’s bad enough I’ll have to be fed until my arms and hands heal.”

“You’ll have to swallow your pride and let me or others help you with everything.”

Priscilla nodded. “I know, but it won’t be easy.”

“It’s never easy to accept help from others, but there are times when we all need to do it.”

“I’ll try to cooperate.”

Mom smiled. “You’ll need to receive plenty of liquids, too, so you won’t become dehydrated.”

“I know.” Priscilla realized someone, probably her mother, would have to hold the glass for her when she drank anything, too. How glad she would be when she could do things for herself again.

“Oh, before I forget, I found this in the mailbox the day after your accident,” Mom said. “It’s a letter from David. There’s no stamp or postmark, so I assume he must have put it there himself.”

Priscilla’s forehead wrinkled. “Why would he leave a letter instead of coming to see me himself?”

Mom shrugged. “I have no idea. Would you like me to read it to you?”

“Jah, please do. There’s sure no way I can hold the letter myself.” Priscilla hated sounding so negative. She didn’t want to come off as a whiner, but she couldn’t seem to help herself right now.

Mom took a seat beside Priscilla’s bed and read David’s letter:

Priscilla lay motionless, letting his words soak in. David felt responsible for her getting burned, but it surprised her that he would leave Arthur. What had happened to his desire to join the Amish faith? Didn’t their friendship mean anything to him? Had he determined that he didn’t love her after all?

“It’s best that he’s gone, Priscilla,” Mom said. “David wasn’t right for you, and he obviously didn’t have what it takes to be part of the Amish faith.” She patted Priscilla’s knee. “Besides, Elam’s the one who is meant for you.”

“Is he, Mom?” Priscilla’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m not sure anyone is right for me anymore.” Should she ask her mother to write David a letter, begging him to come back? No, if Mom could destroy the letters David had sent Priscilla before, she might throw out Priscilla’s letter to David, as well.
I’ll wait and ask Elaine to write the letter. No doubt, she’ll come by to see me soon.

Thinking about Elaine caused Priscilla more discomfort.
I won’t be able to help her host any dinners for a long time.

Elam’s hand shook as he knocked on the Hershbergers’ door. When he’d called the hospital this morning to see how Priscilla was doing, he’d found out she’d been discharged. Elam knew he had to see her, but the horrible nightmare he’d had last night about Priscilla was still stuck in his brain, and he couldn’t stop thinking about it. He hoped she would be glad to see him.

When Priscilla’s mother came to the door, Elam jumped. “Oh, Elam, I’m so glad you’re here. Priscilla’s feeling down right now. Hopefully seeing you will lift her spirits.” Iva opened the door wider, and Elam stepped in.

“Is she in a lot of pain?” he asked.

“Not as much as one might expect. The doctor sent some medicine home with Priscilla, but after I put some B&W ointment on her burns, she said the pain lessened.”

“I’ve heard good things about that stuff.” Elam glanced into the living room, wondering if Priscilla was there. He saw no sign of her, however.

“Priscilla’s resting in the guest room. We moved her things there, since it’s downstairs and closer to the bathroom.” Iva gestured to the hall. “She’s not sleeping, so why don’t you go on in? She’ll be glad to see you.”

“Okay. I won’t stay long, though, ’cause I don’t want to tire her.” Elam headed down the hall with a feeling of dread. When he came to the guest room, the door was ajar, so he poked his head in. “Hey, how are ya doing?”

“As well as can be expected, I guess, considering I look like a scarecrow.”

Elam stepped into the room and took a seat beside Priscilla’s bed. The sight of her lying there with burdock leaves and gauze dressings covering her burned arms and hands, made his stomach queasy. He could only imagine how her blistered skin must look and feel underneath all of that. “Your mamm said you’re not in too much pain right now.”

“No, I’m not, but I look baremlich.” Her voice trembled. “If my burns don’t heal properly and I end up with scars, I’ll always look terrible.”

Elam shook his head. “No you won’t, Priscilla. You’ll always be beautiful to me.”

Priscilla’s cheeks became wet with tears, and Elam reached out and wiped them away.

“I got a letter from David. He’s gone back to Chicago.”

“He has?” This bit of news almost made Elam’s day.

“He feels guilty for not turning off the stove and blames himself for what happened to me.”

“I’m glad he’s gone.” Elam dropped his gaze to the floor. “He didn’t belong here, Priscilla.”

“How can you say that? It sounds like you’re angry with David.”

Elam lifted his head. “And you’re not?”

“No. Anger toward David won’t change what happened to me. It’s not his fault my sleeve caught fire when I tried to put out the fire.”

Elam rubbed the back of his neck, where a spasm had occurred. “So, you’ve forgiven him without question?”

“I have to. There’s no point holding a grudge. I’m sure David didn’t intentionally leave the stove on. It was an accident, plain and simple.” She sniffed, while blinking her eyes. “I wish he would come back so I could tell him that.”