Christmas at Promise Lodge (8 page)

Amos struck Floyd's upper body and knocked the bishop to the ground with him. The men landed hard, both of them crying out. Floyd grabbed his head and rolled away to writhe in pain, but when Truman and Roman reached the two men, Amos wasn't moving.

Mattie stopped, her heart in her throat. Her Amos lay flat on his back with his limbs splayed in various directions. He remained ominously still.

For a few seconds everyone stared in silent shock. Minerva and Frances rushed over from the volleyball net with Eli, Marlin, and the others close behind them. Mattie stood stunned, staring at Amos's inert form as snippets of muffled conversation flew around her.

“He's out cold,” one of the younger boys murmured.

“Maybe we'd better call a doctor—”

“No! Amos is strong and fit. He'll come around,” Preacher Eli insisted.

“We don't know any doctors hereabouts,” Frances pointed out as she and Minerva pressed their hands down on Floyd's shoulders to keep him from standing up.

Truman and Roman were kneeling on either side of Amos, gently smacking his face to bring him around. He wasn't responding.

“Rosetta! Somebody!” Truman called out above everyone's comments. “Call 911. Amos and Floyd should both be checked for broken bones and head injuries.”

Rosetta ran toward the lodge, but Menno and Lavern raced past her, their faces tight with worry. Minerva stood up, shooing everyone back. “I'm no doctor, but I've got enough midwifing experience to know that we shouldn't move Amos—and Floyd, you should sit tight,” she insisted. “Mattie and Frances, you might want to pack your men a bag before the ambulance comes. I suspect they'll check both of them into the hospital for observation.”

“You're not taking either one of us to the hospital!” Bishop Floyd protested with a grimace. “If you'll give us a minute to catch our breath, we'll be fine.”

Ignoring Floyd's outburst, Mattie lingered for a hopeful moment, in case Amos blinked or spoke or grimaced.

Nothing. He was breathing, but otherwise he was lying far too still.

Not daring to think about what sort of damage might've been done when Amos fell from the roof—even with Floyd breaking his fall—Mattie hurried toward Amos's house. She heard voices behind her and saw that Frances, Gloria, and Mary Kate were headed up the road toward their home.

“What on earth possessed your
dat
to catch Amos?” Frances asked in a flustered voice. “He's going to pitch a fit about going to the hospital, but we've got to get him checked over. If he broke some blood vessels, or knocked his neck out of kilter—well, Minerva told me there could be all manner of injuries we won't know about without getting him checked over.”

Lord, this is so scary
, Mattie prayed as she hurried up the steps to Amos's place.
Help me find what Amos will need. Help me not to panic so I can make the right decisions
.

Because Mattie had helped unpack a lot of boxes when Amos had moved his belongings from the storage shed into his new home, she had an idea where his clothes and toiletries were. She moved as quickly as she could, yet she had the sensation of slogging through suspended time and deep mud, feeling woefully slow. By the time she tucked some pajamas and a change of clothing into a duffle, she heard the distant wail of a siren.

Mattie felt frightened half out of her mind. What if Amos didn't regain consciousness—or if he did, what if he'd suffered the sort of head and neck injuries Frances had mentioned? How could it be that her Amos, so fit and agile, was lying unresponsive on the ground? She hadn't seen a flicker of his eyelids or the slightest motion in his arms and legs.

What if he's paralyzed?
Mattie fretted as she hurried out the door with Amos's duffle.
What if he'll never be able to work again—and all because of a freak accident while fetching a Frisbee?

Stop it!
another voice in her head warned.
Thinking the worst will make you crazy. Truman was right to call the ambulance so both men will get the best care.

A police car sped under the arched entry sign to Promise Lodge, followed by a fire truck and an ambulance, which made Queenie bark frantically as she ran around the yard. Mattie stopped in her tracks, her pulse pounding. So many blaring sirens and flashing lights—so many emergency vehicles—surely must mean the responders had figured on the worst-case scenario. Her hand fluttered to her hammering heart as she watched uniformed officers, firefighters, and paramedics rushing toward the cluster of men who stood near the shed. Mattie was grateful that the sirens had stopped wailing—and that Noah had silenced his dog—so she could think again.

“My word, it's like the lodge and all our houses were burning to the ground,” Frances murmured, clutching a small suitcase as she came to stand beside Mattie. Gloria and Mary Kate seemed so intently focused on the throbbing, flashing lights that they couldn't speak.

Mattie gripped the handle of the duffle in both hands, trying to hold on to rational thought. “I'm so grateful that Truman's talking to the emergency crew and knows what to do,” she said, shaking her head. “As fast as they're bringing out those stretchers, we should get over there with these clothes.”

Mustering her courage, Mattie walked quickly toward the scene of the accident. How could those men who were strapping Amos and Floyd to stretchers work so calmly and efficiently? Didn't they realize that the leadership of this church district—the lives of two vitally important men—were at stake?

When Truman noticed Mattie and Frances, he loped over to meet them. “You ladies need to talk to the ambulance guys. They've got some questions I can't answer.”

Mattie shared a startled gaze with Frances. She hurried toward the team of medical workers who surrounded Amos while Frances went to tend her husband. “What do you need to know?” she asked in a tremulous voice. “Amos's kids are married and living out of state—”

“Is he allergic to any medications?” the taller fellow asked in an efficient tone.

“Does he have any health problems, like diabetes or a heart condition?” his partner asked. “And do you know what medications he's taking?”

Mattie's head spun. “Amos is as healthy as a horse—or at least he was until he and Floyd hit the ground,” she replied. “Far as pills, he's not even inclined to take an aspirin when he's got a headache, so—”

“Does he have a DNR? Or a living will?”

Mattie went blank. She stared at Truman for help, but he appeared as mystified as she was. “I—I don't know what that means.”

“DNR stands for ‘do not resuscitate,'” the first man explained. “A living will is a written document that states a person's wishes about life support, if his heart stops beating or he stops breathing.”

Oh, dear Lord, please don't let Amos die!
Mattie prayed frantically. How could these ambulance fellows ask so casually about such life-and-death situations?

Truman shook his head. “Amos is Amish. We Plain folks don't believe in keeping folks alive on machines, if that's what you mean.”

The paramedics nodded and raised Amos's stretcher so it looked like a padded table with metal legs and wheels. “The ambulance is going to be full, what with both men riding in it,” the taller fellow said, “but it would be helpful if you folks could follow us to the hospital in Forest Grove.” With a renewed sense of urgency, they rolled Amos across the yard and into the waiting ambulance.

Mattie's hand fluttered to her mouth and she looked the other way. This was all so foreign to her, and so frightening.

As the other emergency workers wheeled Floyd into the ambulance, Frances rushed over to Mattie and Truman. “What are we supposed to do?” she wailed, suddenly overcome with tears. “Floyd will fight them every step of the way if they try to check him into the hospital.”

“Why did so many rescue workers come?” Gloria whimpered. “You'd think the earth had opened up and tried to swallow us—”

Truman quickly slung his arms around Mattie and Frances, lowering his voice as he addressed the women and Frances's two wide-eyed daughters. “From what I heard when somebody called 911 on one of my landscaping jobs, it's standard procedure to send the police and a fire truck along with the ambulance,” he explained gently. “How about if I give you ladies a ride to the hospital? The emergency room folks will appreciate your help when they admit Amos and Floyd.”

Mattie nodded numbly. “
Jah
, somebody should be there because—because Amos can't speak for himself,” she replied in a halting voice.

“It might be best if you girls stayed here until we know for sure what's going on,” Truman continued, fishing his keys from his pocket. “I'll be with your
mamm
the whole time we're there, all right?”

Mary Kate and Gloria glanced doubtfully at their mother, but when Frances started toward Truman's pickup, they nodded. Gloria looked almost relieved that she didn't have to go—a sentiment Mattie certainly understood.

“
Denki
so much for your help, Truman,” Mattie murmured as he took her elbow and started toward his truck. “I couldn't handle this without you.”

Chapter Eight

As everyone watched the ambulance pull away with a surge of its siren and its lights pulsing, Roman felt a deep, desperate silence settle over the folks gathered near Rainbow Lake. For a few moments after the police car and the fire engine left, they all listened to the wail of the siren as it gradually faded away down the county highway.

Without warning, Gloria threw herself at Roman and wrapped her arms around his waist. “What'll we do without Dat?” she wailed. “What if he's hurt so bad he can't come home? How am I supposed to stay in that house with both of my parents gone, not knowing what's happening to them?”

Roman gingerly put his arms around Gloria. “He'll get the best of care,” he insisted, hoping his statement would prove to be true. “With Truman and your
mamm
—and my
mamm
—there, the hospital staff will have the information they need—”

“But what about me? And—and Mary Kate, of course,” Gloria added after a moment. “I won't be able to sleep a wink without a man in the house, so maybe—”

“You girls are welcome to bunk in one of the lodge rooms,” Rosetta said as she came up beside Roman. “We're all in this together, Gloria. You'll never be alone.”

Roman glanced gratefully at his aunt and loosened his arms, hoping Gloria would take the hint. As he caught Mary Kate's gaze from a few yards away, he felt embarrassed that her sister had made such a scene—and in front of all the neighbors, too. Did Mary Kate realize that he hadn't given Gloria any encouragement? It was totally improper, the way Gloria had implied that she wanted Roman to come to the Lehman place, where the two sisters would be home alone.

Rosetta squeezed Gloria's shoulder, easing her away from Roman to steer her toward her sister. “Are you all right, Mary Kate?” Rosetta asked. “It was a shock to us all, what happened to your
dat
and Preacher Amos in the blink of an eye. If you need to sit down, or you want me to take you over to a room at the lodge—”

“I'm okay,” Mary Kate replied. Her voice wasn't as chipper as usual, but she appeared to be in control of her emotions. “I don't want to leave Sugar and Spice alone all night, and they'll be
gut
company.
Denki
for asking.”

“I believe we should all take a moment to pray for Amos and Floyd,” Preacher Marlin said above the crowd's murmurs. “And then I think we should go ahead and eat our meal—”

“
Jah
, we've got all these fish fillets that can't go back in the freezer,” Christine put in. “And we'll find comfort in eating together, holding up our prayers for our injured men, and for Mattie, Truman, and Frances as they watch over them.”

“Exactly right,” Preacher Eli joined in. “Shall we bow our heads?”

Roman closed his eyes in prayer, glad for the chance to avoid Gloria's gaze. He prayed for Amos and his mother, and for Bishop Floyd, and for the rest of the Lehman family, feeling the sense of oneness and purpose these group prayers inspired. In his mind, he saw Mary Kate's gentle smile.

Give her Your strength and wisdom, Lord, as she wonders about her
dat
. . . and about her unborn child.

When one of the men cleared his throat, the folks around Roman began to move. The women headed toward the table and the coolers, while Preacher Eli and Preacher Marlin set fire to the woodpile.

Harley walked over to where Irene Wickey was pouring oil into Truman's big fish fryer. “If you'll show me how to work the controls, I can be the fry cook,” he offered.

“That would be dandy,” Irene replied as she reached for a large bottle of oil. “And Rosetta, that bin under the table is full of the coating mix. If somebody stirs up the egg and milk mixture, we can set up an assembly line.”

Roman felt a sense of calm returning as folks took up the various meal preparation tasks. He smiled at the three Peterscheim boys and Lowell Kurtz. “Who wants to be in charge of hot dogs?” he asked. “And who wants to make mountain pies? I'm thinking we five guys can handle that cooking once the fire gets going, don't you?”

The boys nodded eagerly. “All that commotion with the fire truck and ambulance made me really hungry,” Menno piped up. “Maybe we should check out the fried pies my
mamm
brought before we start.”

“
Jah
, we don't want anybody keeling over into the fire for lack of fortification,” his brother Lavern said. “I get dibs on a rhubarb pie!”

“I get apple!” Johnny cried, and away the boys went, rushing toward the bin of goodies.

“Bring me one, too! And fetch the hot dog sticks,” Roman called after them. The flames were beginning to lick at the dry branches, so he needed to stay close to the woodpile to keep the fire under control. They had cut a lot of dead wood from the trees in the orchard earlier in the season, so the smoke drifting away from the blaze soon had a slightly sweet, fruity aroma.

When Roman glanced up, he saw Mary Kate approaching him with a plastic cup and something wrapped in a napkin. She appeared calm yet a little subdued.

“Thought you could use some cool water and a lemon bar,” she said softly. “It's hot work, tending the fire.”

“
Denki
, Mary Kate.” Roman gulped the water gratefully and wiped the cup across his forehead. “Won't be long before the fire's ready. Let's stand away from the heat so the sparks won't jump out at you.”

She smiled ruefully. “Seems to me you already got burned when my sister launched herself at you. That was so . . .
obvious
.”

Roman glanced around the crowd. Aunt Rosetta had convinced Gloria to join Laura and Phoebe, who were dipping and dredging the fish—not that she appeared any too happy about handling the slippery fillets. “I suppose Gloria's scared about what happened to your
dat
.”

Mary Kate rolled her eyes and handed him the napkin with a large lemon bar on it. “At least there were other folks around as witnesses. They've got her pegged now, I suppose. Gloria can be such a drama queen.”

Roman smiled, closing his eyes over a bite of sweet, tart lemon bar. “This lemon bar sort of makes up for it,” he murmured with his mouth full. “Did you make these?”

Mary Kate's cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink. “Baking our bread and goodies is my way of helping
mamm
, since she doesn't let me shift furniture or do the cleaning anymore. I'm glad you like it, Roman.”

He nodded, polishing off the final bite of the bar. “You sure you'll be all right at home tonight? My aunts—and my cousins—would be happy to have you stay upstairs in one of the lodge's guest rooms.”

“If I'm at home, I'll hear the phone—in case Mamm calls. Dat put the phone out front in a shanty, but he rigged up a ringer in the kitchen,” she explained.

Roman nodded. “I can understand that. I figure your
mamm
—and mine—will be calling later this evening when they know for sure what's going on with your
dat
and Amos.”

“What exactly happened?” Mary Kate murmured. Her eyes clouded over and she glanced away. “Last thing I knew, Amos was stretched out on the roof—and then Dat tried to catch him, and they were both rolling on the ground. Amos looked . . . well, really gray. Way too still.”

Roman thought back to what he'd seen as he'd been jogging toward the shed. “The best I could tell, Amos was just about to grab the Frisbee when the edge of the roof broke off—”

“Oh my,” Mary Kate murmured.

“—and the ladder fell away from him,” Roman continued, shaking his head. “Then he landed on your
dat
, and I suspect they both whacked their heads when they hit the ground. It's not like either one of them will spring back as fast as, say, Menno or Johnny would,” he continued. “And speaking of those boys, here they come. Want to help us roast the hot dogs and make the mountain pies?”

Mary Kate glanced at the four boys, finding a smile. “How about if I put the meat and cheese between the bread slices and you guys can hold the irons in the fire?” she offered.

“And how about if you bring her a chair?” Roman added as Menno and Johnny set down the cooler they'd been carrying.

A few minutes later they had a nice system going. Mary Kate slid the hot dogs onto the metal sticks and filled the sandwiches for the mountain pie irons, and then the boys did the cooking. Roman watched the fire, and he also took the cooked wieners off the sticks and laid them in a metal pan with a lid to keep them warm. The mountain pies, gooey with cheese and ham, smelled so good he almost jammed one into his mouth—except the boys would've followed his example rather than waiting for everyone else.

The smell of frying fish drifted out over their picnic area. As the last of the wieners were roasted, the women called everyone to fill their plates. The sun was drifting low in the western sky and the temperature was sinking enough that the ladies slipped into their shawls and jackets. The serving table was covered with bowls of potato salad, deviled eggs, baked beans, and other picnic foods along with a number of tempting desserts.

Ahead of Roman in line, Mary Kate glanced up at him. “I'll be sitting at the table with Irene and the older gals, because my getting up from the ground makes for quite a spectacle,” she murmured.

Roman imagined the scene she described and thought of himself helping her up—realizing she'd feel awkward if he did. “How about if I come to the house later to be sure you and Gloria and the cats are doing all right?” he asked softly. “I won't come inside, of course—”

“That would be nice,” she murmured. “Maybe by then we'll know if our mothers and Truman are coming back this evening. I'd hate to have Mamm come home to an empty house after her ordeal at the emergency room.”

Roman nodded. Mary Kate's thoughtful remark touched him. “
Jah
, even with Truman there, she and Mamm will go through an ordeal I couldn't even imagine. I've never been to a hospital.”

“Me neither. I'll see you later then.”

Her smile made butterflies dance in Roman's stomach. As he filled his plate with a couple of crispy fish fillets, a mountain pie, and all the side dishes he could pile on, he thought ahead to his visit to the Lehman house. He'd have to handle it carefully, so no one would misconstrue his intentions. Lester's house was a short distance down the road; if the moonlight was at the right angle, the bishop's brother might spot Roman and figure he was up to no good. The last thing he wanted was to compound Mary Kate's problems as an unmarried mother by appearing to make an improper visit.

But the first thing Roman wanted was another chance to spend time with Mary Kate on the porch . . . hopefully without her sister horning in. The thought of seeing Mary Kate again, sitting on the porch swing on a moonlit evening, filled Roman with a sense of peaceful anticipation. It gave him something pleasant to think about as he ate supper on the quilt beside Noah, Deborah, Harley, and Minerva—young married couples who radiated a happiness he hoped to find for himself someday.

And isn't
that
an interesting thought?

Roman smiled. Change was certainly in the air at Promise Lodge.