Love Still Stands (23 page)

“I can’t.”

“Is that a rule too?”

She squirmed on the uncomfortable bike seat. “Yes.”

“You always follow the rules?”

Until today, she would’ve answered yes to that question. Until she met this man in
a wheelchair with his way of getting under her skin. “It’s what we are called to do.”

“Shawn, what are you doing in here?”

Bethel jumped and nearly lost her hold on the bike. Shawn’s expression grew morose.
Doctor Karen charged into the room, looking like a momma cat that had discovered a
pit bull threatening her kitten. “I thought I heard voices. I’m sorry, Bethel. You
should’ve called for me. I shouldn’t have taken the phone call. It was my mother and
she’s been sick and I hadn’t heard from her about some test results we were waiting
on. Shawn McCormack, you don’t have permission to be in here. This is a closed session.”

“I invited him in.” Bethel had to raise her voice to be heard over Doctor Karen’s
outrage. “It’s all right. He asked and I accepted the invitation to work out together.”

Gott, forgive me
.

“Because you’re too polite to say no.” Doctor Karen glared at Shawn. “Out. Now.”

How Bethel wished that was the reason. Politeness had nothing to do with it. Selfishness,
everything.

“I’m going. I’m going.” Shawn rolled across the room, his biceps pumping. Just when
Bethel thought she’d dodged the bullet he’d fired a few seconds before, he paused
at the doorway. “Have a pop with me. After.”

Aware of Doctor Karen’s curious look, Bethel shook her head.

“It’s just a pop.”

Not trusting her voice, she shook her head again.

“Okay. But I’m going to keep asking. It’ll be a standing invitation.”

A standing temptation.

Chapter 22

B
ethel swung toward Doctor Jasmine’s office, careful not to meet Shawn’s gaze as he
wheeled himself into the group therapy room. She should never have agreed to let him
stay in the workout room. The minute Doctor Karen broke the connection between them
with her shriek of disapproval, Bethel had known. She’d known before, but had tried
to sweep it under a rug of excuses woven together with her own need to talk to someone:
He needed her help, he needed to talk to someone who understood, they weren’t really
alone, Doctor Karen was there in the hallway, he wasn’t looking at her, on and on.
Still, at the heart of her excuses, she recognized a truth. Their conversation had
meant everything to her. It had been the kind of conversation she couldn’t have with
anyone else. The kind of conversation she wanted to have with a man. Not just any
man. But a man who cared about her.

She swallowed the ache in her throat and picked up speed on the crutches. Her legs
didn’t want to cooperate. They weren’t getting better. As long as they didn’t improve,
she would continue to come here. Continue to be in the same room as Shawn. She needed
to work harder. Get better. And get on with her life at home. That’s what she wanted.
She’d keep telling herself that until she believed it.

For now, she needed to stop thinking of herself and think of others. Think of how
her actions would affect them. Going against the Ordnung would hurt Luke, the new
bishop, and Leah, her own sister. Both had enough problems already.

“Doctor Jasmine, could I ask you a question?” She managed to get the words out before
she lost her courage. “In private?”

Doctor Jasmine lowered a file she’d been trying to read while she trotted down the
hallway. Her braid had come undone and hung down her back to her waist. “Sure, what’s
up? You missed a few sessions. You know what we talked about. No missing.”

“I have…things I have to do at home.” She wavered at the door to Doctor Jasmine’s
tiny office. The therapist shooed her in with a flapping motion. “And I have to go
back to Kansas in a few days for a wedding. I won’t be here next week.”

“That’s not good. We’re not meeting on Thanksgiving as it is.” Jasmine tossed the
folder on her desk where it was immediately swallowed up by dozens more that looked
just like it. She eased into her chair and fixed Bethel with a stern stare. “I’m sure
Doctor Karen has told you that you have to make your physical therapy a priority.
The same goes for your group sessions.”

“I know. I will.” If she came back. The situation with Shawn had her wondering if
she could trust herself to do that. There was a reason they were told to keep themselves
apart from the world. “That’s not what I came to talk to you about, though. It’s something
else.”

Doctor Jasmine must have heard the hesitation in her voice. She pointed to the chair
squeezed in on the other side of the desk that filled most of the cramped office.
“Have a seat. You can talk to me about anything. Everything said in this room stays
in this room.” She chuckled. “Like Las Vegas.”

“Las Vegas?”

“Never mind.” Her face became serious again. “What’s up?”

“It’s…” Everything said in this room stayed in this room. Bethel breathed. What was
she thinking? She reached for the crutches. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have bothered
you. The others are waiting.”

“Bethel, tell me. It will stay between you and me. That’s a promise. Whatever it is,
you’ve come this far.”

Yes, she had. For Leah’s sake, she had to ask. She dropped the crutches against the
chair next to hers. “I think there’s something wrong with my sister.”

Her eyebrows raised over dark, serious eyes, Doctor Jasmine leaned back in her chair
and steepled her fingers. “Medically wrong?”

“Like the kind of wrong we talk about in therapy groups. Like in her head.”

“What makes you say that?”

“She cries a lot.”

“And she didn’t before?”

“Well, she has five children and I’m all the help she has and we just moved here and
she really didn’t want to come.” Bethel waved a hand over her lap. “And I’m really
not that much help.”

“Don’t feel guilty. You didn’t cause the storm that led to your injuries. And you’re
doing everything you can to get better—except skipping sessions, of course.”

“No, I know. This isn’t about me.”

“Five children is a lot. Where is her husband? Can’t he help her?”

Bethel struggled to explain the division of labor. It worked. It always worked. “That’s
the thing. Nothing has changed. Luke works hard in the fields every day. It’s Leah’s
job to take care of the children, just like it’s always been. Now she doesn’t want
to.”

“Which is hard for you to understand because you would love to have those babies.”

Why did Jasmine keep bringing this back around to Bethel? And how could she know exactly
how Bethel felt? “It’s not about me.”

“You keep saying that, but I see something different.”

“Leah is expecting another baby and all she does is cry. I don’t think she wants the
baby.”

“You sound shocked and disapproving. Your sister already has five children. By most
people’s standards, that’s plenty.”

“Not by ours. Babies are gifts from God. The more the better. Family is everything
to us. Our children share in the work and together we support each other.”

“How old are Leah’s children?”

Bethel counted them off. “Jebediah is eighteen months old. The twins are three. William
is seven and Joseph is eight. William and Joseph help with the chores already. They
mow and they spread manure and feed the livestock and help Luke with the hay, but
still, Leah has to do all the laundry and cooking and cleaning.”

“Five children under the age of ten, including three-year-old twins. Your sister is
exhausted. She cooks, she cleans, and she takes care of children all day long. No
wonder she cries.”

“That’s what all Plain women do. We like it. We enjoy our work.”

Doctor Jasmine’s dark eyebrows did pushups. “All Plain women like it. Plain women
never complain?”

“Well, not never, but we grow up knowing this is what our life will be. We long for
it. We pray for it.”

“You mean you pray for it.”

“Yes. I did pray for it.”

“But not now.”

“I pray for God’s plan to be revealed to me in His time.”

Doctor Jasmine sighed. She began stacking the folders on her desk. It didn’t matter.
It remained a mess. “I can’t tell much for certain without actually seeing your sister.
What you’re describing does bring to mind a particular diagnosis, however. Have you
ever heard of postpartum depression?”

“Postpartum?”

“It means after birth.”

Bethel rolled the words around. After birth depression.

“We don’t get depressed. And after babies are born, we’re happy because babies are
blessings.”

“I understand. That is what you believe. And beliefs are powerful. But so are hormones.
So powerful that a woman who desperately wants a child and is so happy and excited
the day that baby is born can go home and find herself suicidal when she’s there all
alone taking care of that baby on her own while hubby works. She can want to kill
herself. She can even want to harm her own child.”

“No.”

“Yes. It happens. More than most people want to admit.”

“Not to Plain women.”

“Are you sure about that? Go home. Talk to your sister. Then tell me that.”

“What do you do about it?”

“Number one, you don’t leave a depressed mother alone with her children. Number two,
you get her to see a doctor. Well, if she’s pregnant, she’s seeing a doctor. Right?”

Bethel didn’t answer, but she knew her expression gave her away.

“No prenatal care?”

“She’s had five healthy children with the help of midwives.”

“Doctors can prescribe medicine to help her after the baby comes.”

“Medicine?”

“Yes, antidepressants.”

Bethel tried to imagine Luke’s reaction to such a conversation. She didn’t even know
where to begin to present such an argument. Even if Leah would let her, which of course
she wouldn’t. “Thank you for your help.”

“Look, I understand things are different for you folks. Get your sister to come see
me. I’d be happy to talk to her.”

“Thank you.” Leah would never do that. Still, putting a name to Leah’s troubles helped
Bethel. It wasn’t Leah’s fault. It was something in her body. Her sister wasn’t rejecting
their way of life, even if her body was. “I’ll try.”

Doctor Jasmine nodded. Her cell phone rang, a sing-song jumble of notes that sounded
like a merry-go-round at the county fair. Her smile broadened. “I have to take this.
It’s my husband.”

She hadn’t thought of Doctor Jasmine as having a husband. She worked many hours as
a therapist. Bethel studied the photos on the shelves behind the desk. A smiling man
in a uniform had his arm around her. Another military man. She wondered, as she had
many times before, what called them to this service. She stood and swung toward the
door.

“But I thought you didn’t deploy until after the holidays.”

Jasmine’s voice lost its usual smile. Bethel kept moving. She didn’t want to hear
conversations not meant for her ears. Her crutches dug into the carpet and she swung
into the therapy room where the others were already assembled. The only chairs left
were next to Shawn. She left a seat between them and plopped into the plush padding.

“Where’s Doc?” Crystal snapped her gum and twirled a lock of purple hair between two
fingers. “I got things to do.”

“Shut up, Crystal.” Mark sucked in oxygen. “She’ll be here when she gets here.”

“Easy for you to say. All you do all day is play games.”

“Like you got a job to go to?” Shawn interjected. “Or maybe you have a date?”

“Let’s be nice.” Bethel knew they were playing with each other. They liked to bicker.
And they did it a lot when Doctor Jasmine wasn’t in the room to mediate. Bethel liked
getting there a little early when they were sitting around teasing each other. They
were so at ease with each other and themselves. “She’s on the phone. She’ll be here.”

At that moment the therapist hustled into the room. A tissue in one hand, she had
the usual smile fixed on her face, but her eyes were red. “Sorry I’m late, folks.
Got behind.”

Guilt assailed Bethel. Late because of her need to talk.

“What’s the matter, Doc?” Shawn leaned forward in his chair. “You look like you got
some bad news.”

He wasn’t as self-absorbed as he seemed. Another point in his favor.
Stop it!
Nobody was keeping points, least of all Bethel.

“No, no, I’m fine.” Her smile trembled. “Besides, this is about you, not me.”

“Come on, Doc, we sit here and spill our guts to you all the time.” Crystal shook
her head so her purple and pink hair flailed around her head. “We’re here for you.”

“That’s not the way therapy works.” Doctor Jasmine eased into the chair between Shawn
and Bethel. “It’s not about me.”

“Is it your husband?” Ed spoke up in his stroke-slurred voice, much to Bethel’s surprise.
The elderly man rarely said anything. She caught him watching her a few times, as
if mildly interested, but mostly he wiped his nose with a handkerchief, his faded
blue eyes filled with sadness. “Did something happen to him?”