Where Love Grows (24 page)

“Are you ready to go?” the
Englisha
neighbor asked as they approached.

When they nodded, he said, “My wife is waiting in the car. Do you need to stop to pick up anything at your house, Susan?”

“We're fine,” Susan told him, imagining sitting in a chair all night as the worst-case scenario. They wouldn't need more than what they had on.

“Is the young man your sweetheart?” the old fellow asked on the way to the car.

Susan shook her head. “Thank you for taking us,” she said. “Steve's our hired hand.”

“I see.” He didn't sound convinced as they arrived at the car. “Lydia, this is Susan and Joan. I just offered to take them into town to check on the young man who was taken to Scott Memorial.”

Lydia smiled at Susan and Joan. “I'm glad we can help. I appreciate the way your people look after your own.”

Susan opened the back door and motioned Joan in first. While they fastened their seat belts, the old fellow climbed in, groaning as if he were in pain.

“Tough getting so old,” he said as he turned the key in the ignition. “It's tough losing a barn in this economy too. Tough anytime, as far as that goes.”

“Do they know how the fire started?” Lydia asked.

“I haven't heard,” Susan replied.

Rodney turned the car around and headed toward town.

“Surely it couldn't be arson?” Lydia glanced at Rodney.

Her husband cleared his throat. “I heard the men talking. Reuben thinks it must have been the last batch of hay. It was rained on before he baled. He thought it had dried sufficiently, but maybe not. The fire could have been caused by spontaneous combustion. And from how fast the fire advanced before it was first spotted, that makes sense. Much of the loft would be involved before there were visible signs from outside.”

“I was the one who spotted the fire from the kitchen window,” Joan volunteered. “I couldn't believe it at first. Smoke and flames were coming out of the eaves.”

“You poor thing.” Lydia reached over the seat to pat Joan on the arm.

“It was awful.” Joan shuddered. “Then
Mamm
said to run up to Uncle Menno's place to tell them.
Daett
said he was going to run across the road to call the fire department from the phone shack.”

“You never know when tragedy will strike.” Lydia sighed. “I suppose the Lord has His reasons.”

They rode in silence along the rolling southern Indiana hills. The trip was made in a fraction of the time it would have taken a horse and buggy.

“We'll come inside to make sure everything is okay,” Lydia said after Rodney parked the car.

“That's awfully nice of you,” Susan told them. “Are you sure you have the time?”

“Believe me,” Rodney replied, “we don't have much left but time. If we go home, we'd just be watching
Jeopardy
on TV.”

With Rodney still chuckling, they climbed out of the car. Susan led the way into the low, one-story hospital. She hadn't been here for years—not since Joan had broken her arm in the eighth grade. Susan had ridden along to the hospital with Ada and an
Englisha
driver then too.

“I remember this place,” Joan whispered, looking up at the round, glass-enclosed top of the building as they walked in.

“I was just remembering the time you broke your arm,” Susan whispered back.

In front of them, Duane jumped up from where he'd been sitting in the waiting room. A smile filled his face. “I thought I'd been forsaken and abandoned by everyone.”

“You know we wouldn't do that,” Susan said. “How is Steve doing?”

“I was in the room with him until a few minutes ago. He's awake now and ready to go home, he says. I didn't know what to do about that. No one answered the phone at the shack when I called.”

“That's good news about Steve.” Relief flooded Susan's face.

“That is good news!” Rodney declared. “We'll wait here until he's checked out and take all of you home.”

“I'd better go back and see for myself,” Susan said. “I just realized that Steve being ready to go home may not be the same as the doctor being ready to allow him to go home.”

“Talk to the nurse up front to see if she says it's okay for you to see Steve,” Duane said. “They don't like people wandering around without permission.”

“I'll do that.”

Susan walked up to the nurse's small window. “May I please see Steve Mast?”

The young woman disappeared for a moment, and Susan heard the murmur of voices. The nurse returned and quietly said, “The doctor said it's okay. I'll take you back.” The woman led the way to a room with several curtained-off spaces. Motioning with her hand toward one of them, she said, “He's in there. Go ahead. One side's open.”

“Are you sure?” Susan asked. What would Steve think if she just barged in?

“Oh, he's decent, don't worry.” The nurse smiled and then turned to go to her station.

“I didn't mean that,” Susan said, blushing red she was sure, but the nurse had already left.

Taking a deep breath, Susan walked around the edge of the curtain and stopped. Steve lay on a bed, his eyes red and swollen. He was propped up in a sitting position.

He turned his face toward her, and a slight smile played on his face. “Hi, Susan.”

“Hello,” Susan said. “You look awful.”

“If you're going to tell me that, please go home.”

“If you're going to be grouchy, I will.”

He tried to smile again but grimaced instead. “Who came with you?”

“Joan. And Duane was already here, of course. Rodney and Lydia, Ada's neighbors, brought us in their car.”

“I saw Duane,
yah
. Hopefully he told you I'm ready to go home.”

“Will the doctor let you go?”

“They want to keep me for the night, but I'm not going to. I can't afford to stay here. It's expensive. How stupid of me to hit my head and end up here. I feel fine.”

“But it was something,” Susan protested. “You were trying to do a very brave thing. And you should stay here if the doctor thinks you should. What if something serious is wrong?”

He grimaced again. “There's only a knot on my head from one of the barn beams as it fell. It was a glancing blow, so it's not too serious.”

“Where?” Susan asked, walking closer to run her hand over his head.

He held still, allowing her hand to find the bump.

Susan stopped. “You really should stay. What if there's a concussion?”

Steve made a face. “I've already talked with the doctor, and the X-rays showed nothing. So I'm going home. Just give me some time to get out of this hospital dress.”

Susan laughed but Steve didn't join in.

“Will you please tell that nurse I want my clothes back?”

“I'll see what I can do.” There really was no sense in arguing with him, she decided. That might do more harm than good if Steve got stressed. And home was the best place to recuperate—even from a serious injury.

“Did the horse I was trying to get out survive?” Steve asked before she was out the door.

Susan shook her head, stopping to turn around. The expression on his face fell. He shouldn't have asked right now, Susan thought. There were already enough things on his mind.

“I'm sorry,” she said.

“It's not your fault,” he said. “I suppose it's really no one's fault. But I wish I could have succeeded.”

“You tried,” she assured him, and his face relaxed. Leaving the room, Susan found a nurse in the hallway and told her what Steve wanted.

“I was expecting as much.” The young woman laughed. “I'll go see what the doctor has to say, but it shouldn't be any problem as long as Steve will sign the no-fault papers.”

“He'll sign,” Susan said. “He wants to go home.”

W
hile Steve was signing his release papers, Susan stood at the door of the waiting room and watched as Rodney's car pulled out of the parking lot. Joan waved from the backseat and smiled. Duane was seated beside her. Since the car wouldn't hold six people, Rodney had decided a second trip would have to be made. No doubt Joan was enjoying her ride in the
Englisha
car. She didn't often get a chance to do that. Even the reason for the trip didn't dampen such simple pleasure.

Not that long ago, Susan would have greeted a ride into town with great excitement too. Now it didn't seem like such a big deal. Was she getting old? Or had she already seen too much of the world? Likely both, she decided. She held up her hands and looked at them closely. Were they the future hands of an old, single, Amish woman? What would these hands do in the years ahead? Would they ever change diapers on a
bobli
of her own? Would they ever steer a car again?

A man cleared his throat behind her, and Susan jumped and whirled around.

“Steve!” she exclaimed. “You should make yourself known before you creep up on a soul.”

He winced, his face still puffy. “So, it looks like we got left behind.”

“We all wouldn't fit, so Rodney said he would come back for us. He'll be here before you know it.”

He nodded. “Did you burn your hands getting the horses out?”

“No, why do you ask?”

“Because you were staring at them.”

Susan blushed. “That's because I was feeling sorry for myself. But it had nothing to do with the fire.”

He smiled but pursued the matter no further. His gaze drifted to the parking lot.

“By the way, that was brave of you to try to save the last horse.”

“Maybe stupidity more than anything,” he muttered. “And if you ever tell anyone you saw me in a dress, I'll have to resort to violence.”

Susan laughed. “You looked as harmless as a butterfly, Steve. Like you couldn't hurt a kitten.”

“I can breathe fire if I have to,” he said. Then he winced. “I think I'd better sit down. Maybe ‘breathing fire' isn't such a great idea after all.”

“You should stay overnight like the doctor wants you to.” Susan took his arm and helped him to a nearby chair. “If you pass out here in the waiting room, I'm going to scream for help.”

“I've never heard you scream. That would be interesting,” he said with a grin.

“Well, if you had been listening, you would have heard me scream outside the barn. But, being a man, you were too busy breathing fire.”

“Do you always torture injured patients with such harsh words?”

“You're not a patient anymore, remember? You're on your feet, so it's open season.”

“Why do I get the feeling that it wouldn't make a difference?”

“I can be nice and sweet when the need arises, but running into burning barns trying to be a he-man and then leaving the hospital against doctor's orders doesn't qualify you for tender treatment.”

He smiled. “I am rebuked and chastened by your words. I will repent in sackcloth and ashes.”

“Well, you've had enough ashes. Sackcloth will do. Does that mean you'll stay the night in the hospital like you're supposed to?”

“Nope. I'm not
that
repentant.”

“That's what I thought. Stubborn to the core.”

“Hey, I'm injured. I could use a little sympathy here. And you did see me in that stupid dress they made me wear.”

“It wasn't a dress, it was a ‘gown,' Steve. And it's nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Still, I'm glad it was you and not some other girl.”

“Any other girl would say the same thing.”

“Perhaps.” He shrugged. “It was nice of you to come.”