Unforeseeable (17 page)

I felt strange pulling on Lizzie's jeans. I'd never worn a pair of jeans in my life. Papa had always insisted on plain dresses. After he died, I'd made a few dresses with colors and patterns because other women in town were wearing them. Some of the ladies wore pants when they worked around their farms, but this was a first for me.

I had to take off my prayer covering. It was not only wet, but it was torn and dirty. Beyond repair. Two prayer coverings gone within a few hours. At this rate, I'd have to make some new ones. I dropped it in the trash can and worked to get the pins and ribbon out of my hair. There was a brush on the counter, next to the sink, and I brushed my hair out the
best I could. When I looked in the mirror, I didn't recognize the girl who stared back at me. Lizzie's jeans and sweatshirt had turned me into a different person. With my hair down, I looked like someone who could fit in with most of the young women I'd seen in Washington during my trips with Lizzie.

For what seemed like a long time, all I could do was gaze at the stranger in the mirror. Could clothes really change me so much? At first I felt panic and wanted my dress and my prayer covering back. But gradually another sensation began to build in me. Something I couldn't put my finger on, but it felt good. I turned from the mirror, pulled on the socks Charity had given me, and started back down the stairs. Charity was waiting on the couch, and Muffin was lying on the floor beneath her.

“Oh, Callie,” she said when I came in. “You're so beautiful. Just like Mama.”

I didn't think badly of Lizzie for the way she dressed, so why did I feel guilty? Somewhere inside, I could hear my father's disapproving voice. My stomach turned over, and I had to steady myself as I sat down next to Charity.

“You should dress like that more often,” she said simply. “I like the way you look.”

“Thank you, Charity,” I said. “But I'm not sure this is . . . me.”

She frowned up at me. “Then who are you?”

I stared at her, trying to find an answer. I didn't notice the tears streaming down my face.

Charity put her hand up to my cheek. “Don't cry, Callie. I know who you are.”

Her words made me sob harder. I tried to stop, but it was as if something had broken open inside me. Charity jumped
up from the couch and ran into the other room. She brought back a paper towel, and I wiped my face. Once my emotions were under control, I tried to apologize.

“Don't be sorry, Callie,” Charity said with a smile. “Mama says that God gave us tears so we could get our sadness out. There's nothing wrong with crying.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I cry too.”

I was touched by her attempt to comfort me. “Thank you, Charity. I didn't know that. I feel much better now.”

“Good. I'm glad.”

I suddenly remembered that the couch was wet when I went upstairs, and I ran my hand on the material. It was dry now.

“I turned the cushion over,” Charity said with a smile. “Mama did it once when I spilled lemonade on it.”

“Thanks for doing that. It's more comfortable.” I reached down to stroke the small white dog that lay at my feet. When he looked up at me, he appeared to be smiling.

Charity tugged at my sleeve. “Is my daddy okay? Why did Mama have to go and get him?”

Not wanting to frighten her, I explained that the truck had quit running and that Noah needed a ride home. She seemed to accept this, but then it occurred to me that my account wouldn't explain her father's injuries. I told her that he got a few bumps when the truck stopped fast, but that I was sure he would be okay. That seemed to satisfy her.

Although I didn't say anything to Charity, I was beginning to worry why it was taking so long. What if Lizzie couldn't get Noah out of the truck by herself? I started to wonder if I should have gone with her, to help with Noah, when bright lights suddenly flashed across the room. Charity and I both got up and went to the windows. Muffin followed along behind us.

“It's Mama!” Charity exclaimed gleefully. “She's back!”

Lizzie pulled the truck up close to the door. I went to the front closet, not able to move quite as fast as I wanted because my chest was so sore. I found a pair of boots and an overcoat and put them on. Warning Charity to stay inside, I opened the front door and trudged through the snow to the passenger side of the old truck. When Lizzie opened her door, the interior light came on, and I was thrilled to see Noah leaning against the window. He gave me a faint smile, which made me feel even more relieved.

“Can you help me get him inside?” Lizzie yelled as she came around the front of the truck. I nodded. She cut in front of me and opened Noah's door. He moved slowly and almost fell into her arms. I got on one side, and she got on the other. Fighting the wind and snow, we painstakingly made our way toward the house. I had to clench my teeth to ignore the sharp spasms that coursed through me. Noah was actually walking, although he definitely needed our assistance. I took it as a good sign, since he hadn't been able to move much right after the accident.

“Just a little farther,” Lizzie said loudly to her husband. “We're almost there.”

Getting Noah up the stairs was difficult, but we finally made it. Charity stood on the other side of the door, her face puckered with concern.

“Is Daddy all right?” she asked, her bottom lip trembling.

“I'm okay, sweetheart,” Noah said, trying to reassure her. “Remember when you fell off the front porch after we first moved here?”

She nodded. “Yes, it hurt.”

He smiled, but I could feel him flinch with pain. “Well,
it's just like that. Daddy got hurt, but you got better, and I will too.”

“Okay,” she said slowly. “If you say so.”

“I do.”

We steered Noah to the couch where I'd collapsed almost an hour earlier.

“Where's the quilt?” Lizzie asked. “I want to put it under him.”

“I-I'm sorry,” I said. “I used it earlier after I took off my wet clothes. It's still upstairs.”

“That's okay.” She looked at Charity. “Honey, go upstairs and get a couple of quilts out of the linen closet. And hurry.”

Charity nodded and ran toward the stairs.

“Don't run on the stairs, Charity,” Lizzie said. She looked at me and winked. “One injured family member a night is my limit.”

I was amazed at how calm she was. In her situation, I would be frantic with worry. We held Noah upright until Charity came back with the quilts. Lizzie told her to spread one out on the couch. Then we carefully lowered Noah down. He grimaced even though we tried to be as gentle as possible. Once he was settled, Lizzie covered him with the second quilt.

“We need to get him to a hospital,” I whispered to Lizzie so that Charity wouldn't hear.

“No, I don't need that,” Noah said quickly. “If I get any other symptoms—something that might indicate some kind of internal injury, I'll go. But for now, I'm just going to sit here and rest.” He smiled at my worried expression. “Believe it or not, I've had this kind of pain before. At the most, I cracked a rib. Happened once on the farm. There's nothing doctors can do about it. It has to heal on its own. I'll be fine.”

Suddenly, Lizzie grabbed me in a hug. “Noah told me about Mary,” she whispered into my ear. “I don't want to talk about it in front of Charity. We'll discuss it later, when she's in bed.”

I nodded. The sorrow in her eyes was awful to see, yet her expression was set and resolute. Protecting her family was her priority now. She turned away from me and struggled to help Noah out of his wet coat.

“Stay with him, Callie,” she told me. “I'm going to get him some dry clothes.” She left the room, and Charity followed her.

“What if it's more than just a cracked rib?” I asked Noah.

“I won't get into details,” he replied, “but when this happened before, the doctor at the hospital told me what signs to watch for in case there was something wrong inside. If I see any of those symptoms, I'll be the first one to tell Lizzie to take me to the hospital. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Are you sore at all?” he asked.

I touched my chest without thinking. “Yes. I checked myself out when I changed clothes. There's no bruising. I'm just red. But I'm definitely tender.” To be honest, I was in quite a bit of pain, but I didn't want to draw attention to myself. Since I'd made it from the truck to Lizzie's, surely I couldn't be hurt as badly as Noah.

“Just wait. In a couple of days, you'll be black and blue. Some guy ran a light in Washington a few years ago and slammed into my truck. At first my chest turned red. A couple of days later it was almost black. Looked a lot scarier than it really was though. It didn't hurt much after it turned colors. Unless I touched it.”

I was relieved to hear that my symptoms were normal and
that the pain would subside. Realizing I was still wearing Lizzie's coat and boots, I took them off and returned them to the coat closet.

As I walked back toward the couch, Noah looked me over carefully and frowned. “You sure look different dressed like that.”

“I feel different dressed like this.”

“Oh, Callie,” he said, “I just remembered your suitcase. We left it in the truck. I wasn't thinking—”

“It's okay,” I said. “We'll get it later. I'm just relieved you're home.”

“Thanks. Still, I wish I'd thought of it.”

“Really, Noah. It's fine. Right now I'm just so grateful we're all safe. My valise isn't the least bit important to me.”

Lizzie and Charity came down the stairs. Lizzie carried an armful of clothes. “Callie,” she said, “could you take Charity into the kitchen and heat up some coffee for Noah? There's a pot on the stove.” She obviously wanted us both out of the room so Noah could change.

“Of course, I'd be glad to.”

“Um, Callie,” Noah added. “Could you also make Noah a huge sandwich with a side of potato salad? He's starving.”

As if responding to Noah's words, my stomach rumbled loudly. At first I was embarrassed, but Noah burst out laughing. “And could you make yourself a nice big sandwich too?”

The comical expression on his face put me at ease, and I giggled. That made Charity laugh, seeming to ease her anxiety.

“You look good in my clothes,” Lizzie said to me, “but it's hard to get used to.”

I started to tell her that she didn't need to get used to
seeing me like this, since it was a onetime thing, but something stopped me. I just smiled and nodded. “Do you want something to eat too?” I asked her.

“No, Charity and I ate earlier. We're fine.”

“Could I have a cookie, Mama?”

“If you go with Lizzie and help her make sandwiches, you can have a cookie. But you eat it in the kitchen, okay?”

“Okay.”

Charity skipped off toward the kitchen, and I followed her. I hadn't seen the kitchen since it had been renovated. I was surprised to discover how modern and cheery it looked. I'd been to the house a few times while Noah was working on it and had watched the inside gradually transform from decrepit to beautiful. The old fireplace in the living room had a new stone front, and all of the wood floors had been refinished. The walls had been repaired and painted, and the stairs had been ripped out and completely rebuilt. The changes were incredible, but no room had been altered as much as the kitchen. The old woodburning stove had been replaced with a sleek stainless steel stove. And the old white refrigerator had been tossed out. A shiny new refrigerator stood in its place. Both appliances ran on propane, and I wondered if Lizzie planned to keep them after they added electricity. Although many of the modifications needed to switch to electricity were easy, for the most part, propane appliances had to be completely replaced.

I gave Charity a cookie from the cookie jar, and set about making two sandwiches. When I was finished, I carried the plates into the living room, along with a glass of water for me.

“Thank you, Callie,” Lizzie said when I handed her Noah's plate. She frowned at my glass of water. “I'm so sorry. I meant to make a pitcher of tea earlier, but I got distracted when
Noah didn't come home. I'm afraid the only other cold thing we have is milk, and I know you never drink it.”

“Callie doesn't drink milk?” Noah said.

Lizzie shook her head and grinned at him. “Surely you know that. Callie's been working at the restaurant more than a year now.”

He chuckled. “I guess I haven't been paying attention to her drinking habits.”

“No reason you should,” I said.

After a short blessing, Noah and I started in on our sandwiches. I noticed that Noah was eating with gusto and his color had improved.

“You look like you're feeling better.”

He nodded. “I do. Fortunately, I still have some pain medication left over from wrenching my back a couple of months ago. I took a couple and it helped a lot.”

“Oh yes. I remember that. You tried to move the stove at the restaurant so Bud Gruber could get behind it and work on the outlet.”

Lizzie laughed. “Yes, Bud told him to wait until he could help, but my mighty man of valor decided he could do it alone.”

I shook my head. “You should have waited. Bud is really strong.”

Noah raised his eyebrows and grinned. “
Now
you tell me. Believe me, I won't do it again.”

“So how long until the work at the restaurant is finished?” I asked.

“There's not much more to do,” Lizzie said. “And it worries me.”

I put my sandwich down and looked at her quizzically. “Why would it worry you? Shouldn't you be happy about it?”

She nodded. “I am.”

“She's worried about Bud,” Noah said. “Ever since his wife died, he's been really lonely. I think we've kind of become his family.”