Rebecca's Choice (33 page)

“I’m afraid so. The clot is in his basilar artery. Large. Two doses of t-PA haven’t helped. You don’t know what time this happened?”

“I just don’t know,” Miriam said.

Dr. Wine paused, seeming to hesitate. “There’s another procedure we can do. Cincinnati has an advanced stroke care center, and they might be able to intervene. We can life flight your husband in.”

Miriam was quiet, her face drawn. “We have no insurance, doctor. Do you know the cost involved?”

“You really shouldn’t think of the money,” Dr. Wine told her. “We don’t have much time. There still is a chance, if we act quickly.”

“We should do it,” John spoke up. “I’ll help pay.”

“It’s a lot of money, I’m sure.” Miriam said glancing at him.

“The church will help,” he said.

A slight smile crossed her face, and John realized what he had just said. He had appealed to the entity he had said last night he would leave, and his mother drew comfort from his instinctual reference, likely hoped his words last night had been forgotten.

“We will do it then, doctor,” she said.

John stayed with his mother until the helicopter came, like the swoop of a bird over the horizon. It disappeared just as quickly back into the sky with his father and mother on board. Alone and with no way home until his uncle came, John returned to the hospital waiting room. The thoughts of regret began again, burning through his mind.

Had he been wrong last night? Would he have to give up now and turn back on his intention to persuade Bishop Martin? Was he to blame for his father’s illness—a stroke, he now knew, which came the night of his rebellion. He could think of no other name. It had been rebellion. It rose up, as sure as the hidden blood clot had risen in his father’s body, and struck at his heart.

Waves of guilt and remorse filled him. He must abandon his quest, he told himself. The certainty of it gripped him. There was no other choice. His mother had every right to hold this action against him for the rest of her life, even if she tried not to. With his father injured, his body destroyed for life, the reminder would be there each day.

If he turned back, forgiveness would follow him, not just the forgiveness of his mother’s words, but the forgiveness of his own heart. There would be comfort, knowing he had done the right thing.

He reached for the familiar, the habit of a lifetime, and then knew what it meant. Rebecca. If he allowed things to drift, to go with the current of the community, they might well be separated. The church council would act slowly at first, then the final cut would come. He could see it all, as clearly as the sunshine outside the hospital window.

His old fear returned but died out because of his resolve. There would be no turning back. Any talk with Bishop Martin without his intention to see this through would only prove disastrous. His voice would betray him, his tone saying what his words didn’t. He simply was not willing to compromise, take the easy way out, nor allow others to decide his fate. On this, the question could no longer remain.

People came and went around him, but he didn’t notice. He was just an Amish boy, his hat left at home, forgotten in the rush of the morning. He was a young man seated on the
Englisha’s
steel chairs, wrestling with the question of the ages—is love worth your all?

He decided it was. The decision was made in the face of his father’s fall, in the knowledge of his mother’s sorrow, and in the certainty of his bishop’s words. He would go all the way with what lay in his power to do. Any less would be unworthy of her, of what she meant to him, and of the life they would live together.

They would be together. His mind struggled with the concept. Even if they never married, they would walk the same earth. That was reason enough, he decided, to do what was right. Not the right of others, but the right of his own brain.

A nurse came through the doorway. “Are you Mr. Miller?” she asked.

He nodded.

“Your father just arrived at the hospital in Cincinnati. They have taken him into surgery.”

“Thanks.” He smiled, grateful for the courtesy.

He gathered himself together, ready to face what lay ahead, even the death of his father. There would be a time to mourn, a time to weep for what had been, a time to explain if he could, but there was no longer a time to turn back. His heart was fixed.

An hour later, after he had called his sister, Bethany, with the news, Aden arrived with his wife, Esther. John filled them in on the details. They pondered what to do, asked questions of each other, and decided the best route was to return home until further news reached them. John rode along in the backseat of the buggy. They talked about his father, his life, and the man he had been.

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY-FIVE

T
he hired van pulled into the Keim driveway at around eleven o’clock, while Rebecca and Mattie were feverishly preparing another batch of pies. Several loads of wash were also underway. The driver halted the van in front of the sidewalk, and the door slid open.

“Looks like you surprised them,” Stephen said chuckling. He got out and began to remove their luggage from the back.

Leona grinned from ear to ear at her accomplishment. She had baby Jonathon along, as well as her two youngest, James and Leroy.

“It’s Leona?” Mattie exclaimed from the kitchen, both hands in flour.

“She would do that.” Rebecca had her ear tuned to the washer downstairs, but now all was forgotten in a rush for the front door.

Mattie brushed off her hands as she crossed the yard and embraced her sister. “You naughty thing,” she gushed.

Stephen grinned. “I guess her life was getting a little boring.”

“I just had to do it,” Leona replied. “You know I don’t mind whatever you’re in the midst of.”

“We are in the middle of a mess,” Rebecca told Leona, shaking her hand, then Stephen’s. Leroy and James just stood there, looking her over.

“Come on, boys. You haven’t forgotten Rebecca already,” Leona told them.

They shook their heads, and Leroy finally said, “Hi.”

“You want to play in the barn?” Rebecca asked. “There are all kinds of things to explore.”

“After they change,” Leona spoke up.

“Well, come on in then.” Mattie shook her apron. “But welcome to the mess.”

Leona laughed heartily.

Stephen excused himself to talk with the driver, after he asked Leona whether she still wished to leave on Monday morning. “If your sister doesn’t throw you out first,” he said chuckling.

“Don’t pay attention to him,” Leona said.

“I should throw you out,” Mattie said, then asked, “Does the driver need a place to stay?”

“She has relatives in the area,” Leona assured her. “You don’t have room anyway.”

Mattie nodded. “Edna does, though. She’d be glad to take her for a few nights.”

“Oh, my wash!” Rebecca suddenly remembered her duties and rushed off.

Leroy and James grinned at the sudden departure.

“Your room is upstairs,” Mattie told them all. “The large bedroom. The boys can sleep in Matthew’s room.”

“Take the suitcase up, right away,” Leona instructed Stephen, who hoisted the luggage on his shoulders. “The boys can change.”

Mattie led the way into the house and returned to the pie dough, while Leona ushered her boys up the stairs behind Stephen. A few minutes later, they were back down, out of their travel clothes, and ready for adventure.

“Be careful,” Mattie told them. “It’s a strange barn.”

They nodded vigorously and disappeared out the door at a run.

Moments later Rebecca heard the rattle of buggy wheels in the driveway. Usually they saw a buggy before it came this close to the house. Curious, she glanced out the small window to see John tie up his horse at the hitching post.

“Well,” she said, “that’s strange.” She thought to call up the stairs to her mother, but decided not to. Her arms around the hamper full of wet clothes, she went outside, a smile bright on her face.

John’s face looked drawn, tense, she thought, and she sobered. He must be the carrier of serious news, which would explain the mid day visit.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, setting the hamper on the grass.

“Dad,” he said. The words simple, his voice sad. “He had a stroke last night. We took him to West Union. They couldn’t do anything there, so they used the life flight and took him to Cincinnati.”

A thousand pictures raced through her mind. “When?”

“Mom found him this morning. She woke me up early.”

“Oh, my. I’m so sorry. Is it serious?”

“He wasn’t moving much. Just moaned.”

“Do they expect… much hope?”

John shrugged. “You know doctors. We saw the young one, the one who took care of me. He’s good, but said he couldn’t do anything more in West Union. So it must be pretty serious.”

“Your father…” Rebecca felt the tears come. Visions of Isaac’s kind face passed in front of her.

“Yes…” John seemed to struggle with his own emotions. His lips parted as if to speak, but no sound came out.

She took his hand and squeezed it. “What’s happening now?”

“He’s in surgery. Some intervention. That’s what the doctor said. Aden brought me home. There didn’t seem to be any use waiting in West Union when we can wait here.”

“What’s happened?” Mattie called out, as she and Leona came across the yard.

“Isaac had a stroke,” Rebecca told them. “He’s in surgery now.”

“Your father?” Leona asked.

John nodded, his face etched in pain.

“How is he?” Leona asked. “What a wonderful man your father is.”

“We don’t know. We’re waiting for news. Mom’s with him. I just wanted to let Rebecca know,” John answered.

“
Da Hah
will watch over him,” Leona said, her voice strong, certain, as if she knew something the rest didn’t.

“We can only wait,” John told her, and Rebecca thought he looked like he wanted to say more. She wondered how the evening had gone last night. Had John talked with his father? Had there been time before this happened? She pushed the thoughts back. It was selfish of her to even think of such things with John in such obvious agony.

“We will send someone over. Maybe Lester can go tonight,” Mattie said, “to see how things are. Surely your father will be out of surgery by then.”

“I hope so. I really have to get back,” John said. “Aden needs help at the store. Sharon tried to run things this morning by herself, while Aden and Esther drove to the hospital. I think business is backed up.”

“You do that,” Mattie said patting his arm. “We all know how hard this is, but
Da Hah
knows best.”

Rebecca decided to walk with John back to the buggy. The wet clothes would just have to wait. Her mother saw her hesitation and gave her a look that said she understood. Leona must have seen their exchange because she promptly grabbed the hamper and headed toward the wash line.

She heard her mother tell Leona, “You didn’t come all the way out here to work,” as she walked with John. Leona’s response was gentle but firm. “I’m going to help.”

At the buggy John hesitated and then said, “I talked with Dad last night. He took some things I said pretty hard.”

“You don’t blame yourself, do you?” she asked.

“I do,” he said, “at least in part. But it couldn’t be helped.”

“Surely your mother doesn’t feel so.” She searched his eyes for the answer.

“I have to do what has to be done,” he said and seemed on the verge of saying more but dropped his gaze to the ground.

“Does your mother think… that it’s your fault?”

“I don’t think so,” he finally said. “I told her I was sorry. She has been afraid of this happening for quite some time.”

Rebecca breathed deeply. “Maybe your father will be okay.”

“I don’t know,” he said and put his foot on the buggy step, obviously preparing to leave. “Regardless, I have to do what is best for us.”

She wondered what that meant but figured there was time later to speak of it. “I’ll be thinking of you. There might be good news. Leona seems to think so.” Confidence in her aunt’s opinion rose up in her heart.

John smiled and climbed up onto the seat. She stepped back as he took off. The last of his buggy disappeared around the river bend when she thought of her wash again. Quickly she ran to the clothesline. Leona was already done, the empty hamper in her hand, and on the way back to the house.

“That’s too bad,” Leona said. “You two do have it rough, don’t you?”

“Don’t say that,” Rebecca chided her. “You’ll make me cry.”

“That’s good sometimes.”

“I’m about cried out,” Rebecca replied. “Now this happens.”

“He’ll be okay. Isaac will be,” Leona said, with confidence in her voice.

“How do you know?”

“He’s a good man.”

“That doesn’t always help.”

Leona nodded. “I know. It’s not just that—not all of it, really. I just feel he will.”

Rebecca took a deep breath. She thought of spilling all her news—of last night and the letters, but she held back, especially what she learned about Emma. That ground seemed forbidden, as if she had been a spectator to sacred things that were unspeakable.