A Simple Amish Christmas (8 page)

8

 

D
aniel’s fever didn’t break then, though Annie and Martha managed to coax the spoonful of Tylenol down him. They continued to bathe him with the cool rag and place ice chips in his mouth, and once an hour Annie took his blood pressure and temperature—recording the numbers on her pad each time.

At four a.m., as she began to worry they would have to send one of the men in the buggy for a driver, send Daniel to the hospital with the
Englischers
, he began to sweat heavily.

Martha stirred from her place beside him in the bed, wiped the sweat from her son’s face. “It’s
gut
,
ya
?”

“It’s very
gut
.” Annie squeezed Martha’s hand, then hurried to the kitchen for more fresh water.

She was refilling the basin when she heard Daniel begin to cry.

“Everything is fine,
boppli
. You’ve been very sick, but now everything is fine.”

It was the first time Annie had seen Daniel’s eyes open. Though they were still sunken and tired, their color was a warm golden brown, much like Joshua’s.

Then the boy said words that caused Martha’s tears to spill over. “
Mamm
, I’m hungry.”

She pulled him to her and rocked him and laughed and cried at the same time. Finally, she wiped a hand across her eyes and declared, “I’ll go and heat him a little broth.”

Within minutes she was back and insisted on feeding it to Daniel herself. The boy wasn’t able to take more than a dozen spoonfuls, but it was enough to ease Annie’s worries. Once he’d fallen back into a more restful sleep, she pulled Martha into the kitchen and reminded her of all she would need to do.

“It’s important to continue with the Tylenol regularly for the next two days, or the fever might rise again.” Annie pressed the bottle of children’s Tylenol into her hands.

“I can send Simon to the store for some in a few hours. Of course, we have the kind for older children, but I never thought to have the chewables on hand.”

“It’s all right. Take mine.
Mamm
gave me this, and I’m sure she has more. Remember to mix it with the juice as you saw me do earlier until you’re sure he can chew up the tablets.”

Martha placed the bottle in the pocket of her apron.

“Be sure he’s taking plenty of liquids. We want him up and using the bathroom regularly. Color should come back to his skin, and you should see elasticity return within the next six hours.” Annie showed her how to test for dehydration on her own arm, and the difference when she touched Daniel’s skin.

“So it was the influenza?” Martha asked.

“I believe so, but we may never know for sure. Keep the other children away from him until twenty-four hours after the fever’s gone. Be sure no one drinks or eats after him.”

Martha walked her to the door. They both stopped and looked out the window, where the eastern sky was beginning to lighten with dawn’s first glow.

“Annie, I owe you more than I can say. If you think of any way I can repay you—”

Annie stopped her, wrapped her arms around the woman’s thin shoulders. “I’m very glad I could help. Take care of your
kinner
, and find a way to grab some rest yourself.”

“I will, and the children will be fine. They’re all a help to me.”

Hugging her one last time, Annie stepped out onto the porch of the small house. Walking to the barn, she couldn’t help thinking again of Kiptyn and of the letter among her things back home.

Kiptyn, too, had made a turn for the better—though for how long, God alone knew. Annie realized suddenly that his parents would give much to be able to keep him in their home, to be able to care for him in his room as Martha was doing.

Had Martha placed her child at risk by not rushing him to the hospital? Or had she done the right thing by keeping Daniel in the one place she knew she could care for him— safely surrounded by his family and community?

Annie was too tired to puzzle it all out.

After delivering the good news to Simon and Joshua, she climbed into the buggy with Adam.

She wanted to talk to Adam, wanted to ask him what he thought she was to do, now that she was home. And whether Samuel was right in his criticism of her. Did she have any business trying to help people like Martha and Simon with their child?

But her eyes were too heavy and she couldn’t fight the fatigue that washed over her like a wave as they made their way through the brightening morning. She pulled the blanket around her, cornered herself into the buggy’s seat, and fell fast asleep.

 

Each night that week, Annie was called on by her neighbors—that first time because they couldn’t pay Samuel, twice because he was tending to someone on the county’s far side, and once because the woman lived alone and felt better seeing another woman.

Each time, Annie reminded her neighbors that she’d had minimal training, and each time they looked her in the eye, thanked her for her honesty, and asked her to help them with whatever ailed them.

Plain people might prefer simpler ways, but they weren’t ignorant as far as what constituted an outright emergency. When the young boy on the farm adjacent to theirs cut his arm in a long gash on an old farming tool, his father sent one sibling running for Annie, and another running to the nearest neighbor with a phone.

By the time Annie arrived to bind up the wound, a driver was there with a car to transport him to the hospital—the boy would need a tetanus shot and a long row of stitches.

Annie feared the biggest battle they would face over the next few months would be influenza. In only a week, her mother’s extra medical supplies had dwindled to nothing. When Friday arrived, Annie didn’t turn down a chance to ride into town and replenish them.

Stepping from the general store into the light snow flurries, she clutched her bag of purchases to her, bent her head against the cold north wind, and walked straight into the man she had been avoiding—Samuel.

“If it isn’t Annie Weaver.
Gudemariye
to you.”

She should have been thankful for the way his form blocked the wind, but looking up into his teasing face she couldn’t work up any gratitude. A small voice inside her head told her
to return his greeting and step around him, but she had not yet learned to listen to that voice.

So instead she stopped, cocked her head, and looked up at him, wondering if his attitude had improved at all in the last week. “Samuel, how are you this morning?”

“I’m fine, and I suppose your patient is fine since you’re in town today.”

Annie fought against the blush staining her cheeks. “My
dat
is now able to spend a few hours each day in the barn with David, you’ll be
froh
to know. He’s healing quite well.”

“He seemed to be last time I checked on him. You do realize I check on him. Don’t you?”

Annie rolled her eyes and glanced toward the winter skies. She hadn’t rolled her eyes since she was a young girl in school, but Samuel Yoder had a way of making her crazy. Pulling in a deep breath, she pushed past him on the sidewalk.

To her surprise, Samuel turned and matched her step for step. “Funny thing, I haven’t seen you either of the times I’ve been by your
dat’s
place. If I didn’t know better, I’d believe you were avoiding me.”

She turned on him in a flash, causing others on the sidewalk to have to swerve around them.

“And why would I want to avoid you?” Her voice rose in spite of her best attempt to remain unfazed by him. “Possibly because you’re rude or arrogant or unpleasant to be around?”

Tugging her scarf closer around her ears, she spun away and marched down the walk toward Mr. Fisher’s shop where her mother worked, pleased with the image of him standing there in the middle of the sidewalk, his mouth half-open in surprise.

The man
was
rude and arrogant and unpleasant to be around.

Jerking open the door to the shop, she stepped inside. Handmade quilts, scarves, and needlework adorned the left side of the store where several
Englischers
browsed as Mr. Fisher tidied the display in the window. A small café area had been set up to the right, and the smell of
kaffi
, tea, and cinnamon muffins immediately surrounded her, calmed her.

Rebekah waved from behind the sales counter and pointed over to the small café area. Waving back, Annie turned to the right and chose a table near the window. Sitting with her back to the door, she set her bag of purchases in the middle chair.

Which was when she heard the bell over the door tinkle, turned in her chair, and saw Samuel duck into the shop.

He slid into the chair across from her and removed his hat, setting it on top of her bag of purchases.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I might sometimes come across as rude and arrogant, but I don’t think I’m unpleasant to be around. Some people actually like being around me.”

“Why did you follow me in here?”

“Can’t a man walk into a shop and order something warm to drink?”

Flustered that she should be in this situation, Annie tried to catch her mother’s attention, but suddenly Rebekah was busy restocking a shelf, though she did sneak a peek and beam broadly at her.

“Problem?” Samuel asked.

“I’m meeting someone,” Annie hissed.

“Oh. Well, there’s a third chair, I can put my hat in my lap.”

“That’s not the point.”

“What is the point, then?”

“You’re insufferable.”

“You have a long list of adjectives. Did you learn them from the
Englisch
?”

Annie stared at him, wondering if the man had gone mad. Where was the quiet, reserved Samuel Yoder she’d known all her life?

“I was beginning to think you’d hightailed it back to the city.” He drummed his fingers against the table and waited for her answer.

As if she would reply to such an accusation. She wanted to pick up the small vase of plastic flowers and chuck them at him.

Was he actually smiling?

Yes, she could see the corners of his mouth tugging his beard upwards as heat again flooded her face.

And why was she the one blushing? He was the one acting completely inappropriate in a store full of shoppers.

Just as she had determined to snatch her bag of purchases out from under his hat, her
mamm
showed up at the table. “Samuel, how nice to see you. I can’t remember the last time you stopped into the café.”

“And I’ve been remiss. I should come in more often.”

“I’m glad you did. I was supposed to have a sip of tea with Annie—”

“I’m sitting right here, Mother.”

“Hello, sweetie.” Rebekah placed a hand on her back, studied her a moment. “Why do you still have your coat and scarf on? You are staying. Aren’t you?”

“Of course. It’s just that—”

“Take them off, then. Let me help you. We’ll set them on this chair until I have a break.” Rebekah’s voice had taken on a purring quality, and her face was positively beaming. “Unfortunately, several shoppers have decided to come in at
once. I asked Charity to bring you both some hot tea. Is tea
gut
, Samuel?”

“Tea would be
wunderbaar
.”

“Excellent. We have apple cinnamon this afternoon, but I know sometimes men prefer our straight brew.”

Annie listened to her mother discuss flavors of tea with Samuel, and she felt the beginnings of a headache pulsating in her temples.

 

Rebekah scurried away.

Samuel leaned back in his chair and smiled. Why was he smiling so much today? The sadness still lurked in his blue-black eyes, but somehow provoking her had become a larger pleasure than basking in his own tragedies.

The thought had barely formed when she realized how uncharitable it was.

She glanced away quickly—across the room, down at his hat. Her eyes finally settled on the little menu her
mamm
had placed in front of them.

Survive the next few minutes and perhaps he would go away.