A Time To Heal (20 page)

I
'm sure she'll be okay.”

Jenny glanced at Chris as they entered the hospital. “She's
got
to be okay.”

Chris looked at her, then away, unable to stand the hope he saw in her eyes. “You didn't see how much blood she lost,” he blurted out.

And wished he could yank the words back when she paled.

“Look, there's Matthew!”

Amish or not, the other man would probably kill him.When Chris slowed his steps, Jenny slipped her arm through his and propelled him forward.

“How is she?” Jenny asked.

“They've got her in surgery. She's lost a lot of blood.” He ran his hands through his hair and then turned to Chris. “I don't understand. What happened? Did someone try to rob the two of you?”

“I—”

“There you are!” Phoebe cried as she rushed toward them.Then, just as she got a foot away, her face went white and she stopped and fought for breath.

Chris reached her first and helped her sit down in a chair.“I'll get someone—”

She clutched his arm. “No, I'm all right. I'm all right,” she repeated as Jenny hovered over her. “I just rushed too much, that's all. It was a shock hearing what happened.”

Her eyes met Chris's and silently begged him not to say anything. He hesitated. Keeping secrets had only resulted in tragedy for him. They wouldn't be here in the hospital with Hannah lying wounded if he'd told everyone about himself.

He stayed silent. But if she showed another sign that she didn't feel well, he'd speak up and speak up loudly. He'd carry her into an exam room himself and that would be that.

“You're sure? Maybe I should get you some water.”

“Later. I want to know about Hannah.”

“Chris? What happened?”

He dragged his gaze from Phoebe and faced Hannah's brother.

“We weren't being robbed. The barn fire, the poisoned food Daisy ate, the missing book—I figured out it's a man who has a grudge against me and followed me here. As soon as I realized it, I tried to leave.”

Matthew's fists clenched at his sides. “You brought him here?”

Jenny grabbed his arm. “Matthew, think. He wouldn't do that deliberately.”

“The last time I checked, he was still in prison. I don't understand what happened.”

“Probably won an appeal or got out early for good behavior,” Jenny said absently.

She looked up when she realized she'd spoken aloud and the others were staring at her.

“Things like this happen all the time. How could you know that he'd been released? You've been here, helping us with the harvesting.”

“I haven't done anything to help,” he said bitterly. “I've just caused someone else to be hurt. I wish I'd never come. I don't know how any of you can even stand to be in the same room with me.”

He turned on his heel and walked out.

He walked right into a police officer, the same one who'd interviewed him at the scene of the shooting.

“How's Ms. Bontrager doing?”

“We don't know anything yet.”

The policewoman nodded. “I could use a cup of coffee. How about you?”

“If you've come to ask me more questions, you don't need to sugarcoat it with a polite cup of coffee.”

She raised her brows and merely looked at him. “I don't sugarcoat anything. I could just stand to have a cup of coffee and get off my feet for a few minutes while I talk to you and confirm a few things. I'm on the long side of a twelve-hour shift.”

He sighed and turned to go into the building. “Sorry.”

“I understand. You've had a tough day.” She walked beside him to the elevator. “Stay positive. I've seen people pull through worse. Maybe you have too.”

“Yeah.”

He glanced at her and then away. Although she appeared to be only a few years older than him, Officer K. Lang carried herself with a subtle authority.

They got their coffee and went to sit in a booth away from other diners.

She picked up a packet of Sweet N Low from a ceramic container of artificial sweeteners and, smiling slightly, pushed another with sugar packets toward him. Taking out a small notebook, she flipped it open and scanned a page.

“Kraft's saying Ms. Bontrager got in the way when he tried to defend himself against your attack.”

“What?” Chris shot to his feet, bumping the table and almost knocking over his coffee.

The officer reached over and steadied the cup, then looked at him. “Have a seat. I had to tell you what he said.”

“You can't believe him.”

“Of course not,” she said calmly, lifting her own cup and blowing on the surface to cool it before she took a sip. “I looked both of you up.”

Chris sat again and stared at his coffee. Here it comes, he thought, feeling that old wariness come over him. A lot of police officers were former military. Many of them believed that you didn't air dirty laundry.

“He says he came here to forgive you.”

Chris nearly blew out a mouthful of coffee. “You're kidding?”

“No. But you didn't expect him to say he came here to hurt you, did you?” she asked as she continued to review her notes.“I'm looking into a few things, seeing if there are additional charges we can pin on Kraft.”

She looked up. “I understand there's been a suspicious fire with serious injuries at the Bontrager property and a poisoned horse at a neighboring property. A check of the tourist accommodations in the area revealed that Kraft's been in the area since two days before the barn caught fire. I'd say that's interesting timing. Fire marshal's pulling his report and faxing it over.”

“Put him away for a long, long time,” Chris said bitterly. “I don't know how he got out so soon, but he can't get out and hurt someone again.”

“The attempted murder charge against him would have been enough to lock him away for a while, but the other charges'll mean additional time, especially since someone sustained an injury connected to the barn fire. I don't think you'll have to worry about him for quite some time.”

“I didn't think I'd have to before and look what happened.”

The officer nodded. “I hear you. We make arrests in the morning and they're on the streets before we get off our shift sometimes.”

She flipped her notebook shut and tucked it into a pocket on her shirt. “You know,” she said, giving him a direct look, “I figure all you can do is what you think is the right thing every day and hope for the best. That's all.”

She nodded when his eyes searched hers. “I did a tour in the Middle East myself. I know about what happens when someone dares to speak up.”

Draining the last of her coffee, she stood. “Well, that's it.Let's go upstairs and see if the family knows anything yet.”

Pain.

There was so much pain. It was overwhelming—as if her arm had exploded and the side of her stomach was on fire.

But pain meant she was still alive, praise God.

Hannah felt sheets with her hands and something lumpy on one side of her body. And she couldn't move the arm that hurt. It felt like it was strapped to something hard and when she tried to move it, even a little, the effort nearly made her pass out again.

The air smelled antiseptic, too, and something beeped.Hospital! She slowly remembered she'd been shot. She must be in the hospital now.

But dear God, how could one survive this kind of pain?

Hannah moaned and tried to open her eyes. Voices came to her, familiar voices.

“I can't, Jenny!”

Chris? Was that his voice? Was that really Chris? That awful man hadn't hurt him?

“Come on,” Jenny said. “People can hear even when they're unconscious. Hannah needs to hear that you're all right. You don't know what I had to do to talk the head nurse into letting you see Hannah.”

Hannah wanted to tell them that she could hear them. She could hear them too well. Her head hurt almost as much as her arm and her side. That didn't make sense. She remembered being shot, remembered falling. Maybe she hit it on the road when she fell. She couldn't remember—couldn't think.

“It's not important that I'm all right,” Chris said. “It's only important that she is.”

“You can help her by talking to her. Now sit and talk to her.I got you five minutes and that's it.”

“I shouldn't take away from the time you and Matthew get—”

“I want to see if I can get him to eat something in the cafeteria.”

Someone took her hand and it was a big, warm, rough hand.

“Hannah? Can you hear me?”

Chris!

She tried to tell him she could hear him, but she was so tired only a whisper came out.

“What? Sweetheart, please, wake up. I want to tell you that I'm sorry. I want you to yell at me. Anything. Just wake up.”

Sweetheart? He'd called her sweetheart? And why was he sorry? He hadn't done anything.

“Tell me you forgive me.”

She managed to get her eyes open and stared up into his face, his dear, dear face. “You—you didn't do anything wrong.”

The effort to speak took everything out of her, and she fell asleep again.

When she awoke later, Jenny and Phoebe were standing beside her bed, smiling.

They exchanged glances and then both of them gave her a hug, careful not to jar her.

“We heard you woke up,” Jenny told her as she pulled up chairs for Phoebe and herself. “We're not allowed to stay long.”

Hannah glanced around, then toward the door.

Jenny laughed. “I think she's hoping Chris is here,” she told Phoebe.

“He hasn't left?” Hannah tried to sound casual.

“No, he's helping Matthew.”

“He was leaving that day.”

“I know. He thought if he did that he could keep Kraft from hurting anyone else.”

Hannah shifted, trying to get comfortable— the movement took her breath away. She bit her lip, trying to keep from crying out and she tasted blood.

“I'll get the nurse,” Phoebe said and quickly left the room.

“C'mon, use the pump,” Jenny advised, curling Hannah's fingers around it. “Breathe through it. You can do it.”

When the pain subsided, Hannah opened her eyes and realized tears had streaked down her cheeks.

“How—how did you get through it?” she asked, her voice shaky.

Jenny stroked her hair back. “It'll get better. I promise.” She stared at Hannah intensely. “You're a lucky girl.”

“I don't feel so lucky.”

The nurse came in, checked the pump, and nodded. “You need anything else?”

Hannah shook her head. “
Danki.
I mean, thank you.”

The woman smiled. “I knew what you meant.”

She turned to Jenny. “Got some experience in using one of these, eh?”

“I sure do.”

“Used to watch you on the news,” she told Jenny. “Glad you're doing well now.” With that, she left the room.

Phoebe came in and took her seat again.

“You're lucky because you survived despite losing a lot of blood. The fact that Chris knew what to do about the nicked artery in your arm and that he kept his head probably saved your life. The bullet just grazed your side and didn't hit any vital organs.”

“But—” Hannah hesitated and then took a deep breath.“What about having babies? What if the bullet hit—Jenny, what if I can't have babies?”

Jenny squeezed her hand. “I know, you're worried because you have a lot of pain in your side. But the surgeon said he doesn't feel there's any reason why you won't have children.The bullet didn't hit your reproductive organs.”

She stopped for a moment, then went on. “He wouldn't lie, Hannah. They tell you if it's doubtful.”

Now it was Hannah's turn to squeeze Jenny's hand. Each month that Jenny didn't conceive she felt sad for days. The doctors hadn't been encouraging with her because the injuries from the bombing had been so severe.

But somehow, despite the monthly disappointments, Hannah knew that her brother remained steadfast and believed that if it was God's will then he and Jenny would have more
kinner.

“Let's just get you well and back home.”

Phoebe nodded. “It's too quiet there without you. You bring life to the
haus.”

“You're so sweet. Speaking of quiet, you're not saying much today,” Hannah told her.

“I'm just a little tired.”

“You need to go home and get some rest.”

“I agree,” Jenny said, getting to her feet. “And we need to let you get some rest too.” She leaned down to kiss Hannah's cheek. “Matthew will be by after supper to see you. Maybe he'll bring—” she stopped, looked at Phoebe.

“Jenny, if you don't mind I'd like to talk to Hannah for just a minute.”

“Sure. I'll be downstairs in the lobby.”

Phoebe pulled over a chair and sat down beside the bed.“No one's saying it, so I guess I'll have to.”

Hannah looked away from the sympathy in Phoebe's eyes.“He's gone, isn't he?”

“No, he hasn't left. Not yet.”

“Then—” she stopped. “I'm not going to ask why he's not coming to see me. I told myself that I wouldn't ask.”

“But you don't understand, do you?”

Hannah's eyes filled with tears. “I thought he cared for me.”

Phoebe patted her hand. “Oh, dear one, he does. He does.I'm sure of it. But he blames himself for what happened.”

“But he didn't do it!”

“He came looking for you that day. He was leaving because he wanted the man to follow him, to take him away from here.He was afraid you'd be hurt. Then exactly what he feared happened.”