Harvest of Blessings (22 page)

After Andy helped her mother step up into the wagon, Nora preceded her daughter into the most interesting rig she’d ever seen. It looked like a very basic examination room, with cabinets and medical instruments along the walls above the cushioned seats Andy had mentioned. Colorful posters presented inside views of the body’s major organs and a fetus growing inside its mother. Most of the space was filled with the gurney, where Dat lay with a little hose up his nose and a bag of clear fluid hanging on a pole beside him.

He looks so old and fragile beneath the sheet
, Nora fretted as she gazed at him. He was dozing, so she lifted a finger to her lips to suggest silence.

Mamma and Millie nodded. They quickly took seats, as though they, too, were struck by how Gabriel Glick, the preacher who’d railed about their sinful disrespect on Sunday, seemed to have drifted beyond his earthly ability to communicate. Andy clucked to his Belgian and the wagon rolled into motion. It seemed almost like a wake, with nothing to look at except her frightfully quiet father, so Nora was relieved when they pulled into the entrance of the hospital in New Haven about twenty minutes later.

Nora couldn’t miss the surprised expressions on the faces of the people who watched them emerge from Andy’s unique horse-drawn wagon. Once they were inside the hospital, however, several of the personnel wearing scrubs greeted Andy as though they knew him well.

“You ladies finish checking him in,” Andy advised, gesturing toward the admissions desk, “while I wheel him into an exam room. I phoned ahead so they’d know we were coming,” he explained.

Once again Nora was grateful that a skilled medical professional had settled in Willow Ridge. The admissions clerk already had her father’s file in the computer and only needed some information that Andy hadn’t been sure about.

“Mr. Leitner requested one of the rooms in our unit for Plain patients,” she said as her fingers danced on the computer keys. “He was pretty sure Mr. Glick has no insurance—”

“
Jah
, that’s correct,” Mamma spoke up.

“—so whose name shall I list as the contact person, where the bills will be mailed?” the clerk continued in a businesslike voice.

“That’ll be me, Nora Landwehr. His daughter.” She had no idea how she would pay her Dat’s medical expenses, but she doubted her parents had enough savings to cover this visit either. “Number one, Bishop’s Ridge Road in Willow Ridge,” she finished.

As she, Millie, and Mamma took chairs in the waiting area, Nora realized how she had taken insurance for granted while she’d been living English. She’d purchased the required homeowner’s policy when she’d bought Hiram’s house, just as she’d continued her auto policy when she’d gotten the van—but she hadn’t been Plain when she’d acquired those items. She hadn’t considered what she’d be risking when she opened her new business . . . a big barn filled with other people’s original handmade items. What if the store caught fire? What if a storm took off the roof and rain ruined her merchandise? How would she possibly reimburse the clients who were consigning their items in all good faith that they’d be paid for?

In all good faith.
As Nora tried not to nip her lip, these words echoed in her mind as though Vernon Gingerich had spoken them. Good faith was the core belief, the very essence of Plain living, in sunshine and in shadow. Families and neighbors looked after their own—but what about those who weren’t members of the church district? How would she fare among the Old Order Amish of Willow Ridge if she joined the Mennonite fellowship near Morning Star and then lost her proverbial shirt?

Andy Leitner’s smile lifted her clouds of doubt as he pulled a chair over to confer with them. “Gabe’s resting in his room now that the doctor’s checked him over,” he reported. “You can peek in on him now, or you can come back with me when I do my rounds this evening. I strongly suggest you go home and let him rest—”

“So’s we don’t get him riled up and undo the
gut
you’ve done for him,” Mamma remarked. “I’m for that.”

“He’ll feel better after the IV and the oxygen have had a chance to work, too.” Nora smiled gratefully at Andy. “So you come here to do rounds, just like a doctor? That’s pretty special.”

He shrugged, grinning. “My whole setup’s special, thanks to Bishop Tom allowing me some extra telephone and electrical privileges,” he replied. “You might not know this, but last winter when I was getting established in Willow Ridge, Miriam and Ben asked the folks at their wedding to donate to my new clinic in lieu of giving them gifts. They ran an ad in
The Budget
asking for donations, too, so nearly all of my building renovations and my wagon were paid off within a few weeks. It was the first time I’d witnessed Amish generosity in action, and it made a believer of me.”

“Wow,” Nora murmured. “Your story just sent goose bumps up my arms. That’s incredible.”

“Yes, to me as an outsider peering in, it seemed Miriam and Ben had put a miracle in motion. I was amazed that everyone in the community had placed their health and welfare in my hands with unshakable faith,” he said. “So checking on your
dat
—or on whoever winds up in the hospital—is a very small way for me to pay back their enormous trust in me.”

“We’re glad God sent ya our way,” Mamma said as she rose stiffly from her chair. “Shall we head home? You’ve got plenty to do besides hangin’ around with us.”

Once Andy had rolled his gurney into the wagon and collapsed it, they took off for Willow Ridge. The ride back was more relaxed, as they talked about Andy and Rhoda’s upcoming wedding, as well as the possibility that Seth Brenneman and Mary Kauffman might soon tie the knot.

“That’s the young widow who’s livin’ in the new house that Seth’s built between the Lantz place and the Brennemans’,” Mamma explained to Nora. “What with so many young folks gettin’ hitched and new houses goin’ up, our little town’s changin’ a lot.”

“Mary’s kids, Annie Mae Wagler’s little brothers and sister, and my two were in the live Nativity we put on Christmas Eve,” Andy remarked as he drove. “
That
was a first! We had one of Tom’s cows, and the Kauffmans’ miniature pony, a couple of Dan Kanagy’s sheep—”

“And folks from miles around came to see it, too,” Millie added. She passed around the oatmeal cookies and brownies she’d packed, which she’d originally made to serve during the cleaning frolic. Andy handed Nora a white bag from the bakery.

“No sense in letting these fabulous cinnamon rolls get stale,” he said. “But I’ll warn you—they’re messy!”

Nora discovered the truth of that as she unwound the outer layer of a roll and had to quickly lick the melted frosting from her hand to keep it from dripping on her dress. Millie leaned close with a napkin, and then they all started giggling. It was good to relax now that they knew Dat was being cared for.

But Nora gaped at an even sweeter surprise than Miriam’s roll as they pulled into her driveway. Several rigs were parked alongside the barn, where the door was propped open. A handful of women were stepping outside to drop wet, dirty rags in the grass. What a sight, when Mary and Eva Schrock waved at the wagon and then called into the building. By the time Andy halted the Belgian, more than a dozen women were hurrying toward them with anxious faces. Little kids darted outside, eager to run off some energy.

“Is Gabe gonna be okay?”

“When we saw ya takin’ off in that wagon—”

“Oh, but it’s
gut
to see the three of you gals with smiles on your faces!”

“—we figured to go on with the cleanin’ frolic so’s your store would be tidy for your big openin’ day.” Mary’s voice carried above the rest of the excited chatter.

Nora could only stand there gazing at their relieved faces, which were flushed from scrubbing. She let Mamma announce the basic details of their trip as everyone listened earnestly. Along with the Schrocks, she saw Annie Mae, Rachel, Miriam’s sister Leah Kanagy, and a young woman she’d seen in the yard after church Sunday but hadn’t yet met. A few ladies from the Mennonite church in Morning Star had come, as well. Then Lizzie stepped outside to empty her buckets of scrub water before coming over to join them.

Gobsmacked
didn’t begin to describe the way Nora felt. Despite the midday heat and humidity, and despite her absence, these generous women had spent their morning scrubbing
her
store, out of the goodness of their hearts. Nora realized she’d unintentionally left the door unlocked, yet the compassion on these friends’ faces told her they would’ve been disappointed had they not been able to help her while she was tending to her Dat. How amazing was that?

It was a humbling thought, a reminder that humility was a hallmark of these gentle women—an attribute to which she should aspire as she became one of them. “Please! Come to the house and we’ll take a lunch break,” Nora insisted above the chatter. “Millie and I made fresh lemonade and sandwiches and cookies—”

“And we all brought food to share!”

“Oh, I’ve been waitin’ to see your house, Nora!”

“We made a lot of progress this mornin’, so it’ll be
gut
to take a load off,
jah
.”

As their excited chatter swirled around her, Nora felt inexplicably happy. These women were her new friends, and they seemed eager to share their lives and get better acquainted. Maybe it was the worrisome morning she’d spent, but Nora felt a sudden surge of emotion rush through her.

The ladies fetched their pans and coolers from their rigs, and then Mary Schrock and Mamma led everyone toward the house. Millie was walking arm in arm with Annie Mae, while Lizzie was chatting with Leah Kanagy as little Ella rode her hip. The gathering felt like a picnic instead of a hot, sultry day during which her friends had worked until their dresses were sweaty. But then, that’s why Plain women called such events
frolics
. Frolics were the time-honored way to turn hard work into a day of visiting and fun.

When Nora spotted Rachel Brenneman clutching her back and swaying with the weight of her unborn child, she hurried over. “Please tell me
you
haven’t been scrubbing floors or climbing ladders or—”

Rachel laughed. “Not me, Nora! I’ve been keepin’ the kids out of the way so their
mamms
could do all that heavy-duty stuff.”

“Even so, you’ve had quite a job,” Nora replied as they slowed their pace. “Who
are
all these kids?”

Rachel pointed to each cluster in turn. “Those two are Andy’s—soon to be Rhoda’s, ya know. Taylor and Brett, they are, and they’ll be goin’ to the schoolhouse with the Amish kids when classes start in a couple weeks,” she replied. “And that pair, Lucy and Sol, belong to Mary Kauffman, the gal Seth Brenneman’s gonna marry. And then there’s Annie Mae’s younger sibs—Josh and Joey are the twins, and Timmy and Sara are followin’ along with Annie Mae.”

Rachel’s eyebrows rose expressively. “I shooed all of them inside earlier, when I caught sight of Hiram’s big black car,” she murmured. “He kept on drivin’, though, so I think we’ll be all right now.”

Nora frowned. “What do you mean,
all right
?”

“Oh, ever since Annie Mae brought the little Knepp kids back from Higher Ground—after she’d seen Hiram’s um,
girlfriend
, chasin’ them with a paddle—we’ve been watchful,” Rachel replied matter-of-factly. “There’s just no tellin’ what meanness Hiram might think of next, after the way he whacked off Annie Mae’s hair a while back.”

“
Jah
, Bishop Tom told me about that,” she murmured. “Ira says Hiram’s girlfriend has left him now—”

“She got smart, then,” Rachel replied with a huff. “She wasn’t much older than Annie Mae, ya know. What a
mess
that man’s made, meddlin’ in so many lives.”

As they entered the house, Nora considered what Rachel had said about watching over the younger Knepp kids—about their father wreaking such emotional havoc.
Words to the wise
, she reminded herself. But with her houseful of guests, she had much more pleasant matters to oversee.

Her mother and the Schrocks were getting out paper plates and utensils while Lizzie and the other women set out the food. Millie filled pitchers with cold, fresh lemonade, and Annie Mae steered the kids toward the bathroom to wash their hands.

During her years away from Willow Ridge, Nora had forgotten how Plain women worked so effortlessly as a team, no matter whose home they were in. For the first time since she’d bought this house, she was glad the kitchen was so large and open, with so much counter space. Many of these women had much smaller areas for entertaining, yet she sensed any one of them would’ve held this lunch break at her own home, because hostessing came as second nature to them.

Once the ladies began to fill their plates, Annie Mae brought over a pretty young brunette who was holding an alert baby on her shoulder. “I just realized ya don’t yet know Mary Kauffman,” she said to Nora. “And this is her little Emmanuel, who was the star of our live Nativity last Christmas Eve.”

“I heard about that this morning,” Nora replied, grinning as the baby gripped the finger she offered him. “It sounds like you’ve made yourself very much at home here in Willow Ridge, Mary.”

“
Jah
, it was God’s own hand that got me to town in time for Seth—and nurse Andy—to deliver my son,” she replied. “Had Aunt Miriam not kept the kids and me at her place over the winter, I don’t know what we’d have done after my husband died.”

Once again Nora was struck by the compassion that flourished here, grateful that she, too, was being enveloped in the love of the locals. “It was Miriam who alerted Andy to check on my
dat
this morning,” she remarked. “We really need to throw that woman a party before her baby comes.”