Sarah's Garden (23 page)
When the pink-coated lady led Sarah through the intensive care unit to her father’s bed from the night before, Sarah found, to her horror that it was empty and made up. She made a small sound of distress and the other woman turned to her with a smile, patting her hand.
“Don’t worry, honey. They’ve probably just moved him to the CCU.”
“The CCU?”
“Cardiac Care Unit. It means he ’s doing better. It’s amazing what they can do with heart surgery these days, and the patient up and about and home before you know it.” She walked as she talked and pushed through another set of interior doors, where there was a pervasive feeling of less urgency. She stopped at the nurses’ station.
“What’s your dad’s name, honey?”
“Ephraim King,” Sarah replied, conscious once again of the looks her dress was receiving from the brightly-shirted nurses.
“I’m his nurse, Eileen.” A girl who seemed no older than Sarah herself stretched out a slender hand over a stack of files. “I’ll take you to him; he ’s doing wonderfully. And he is keeping everyone entertained with his stories.”
“And my
mamm
. . . my mother?”
“Right in here . . . What was your name again?”
“I’m sorry. It’s Sarah.”
“All righty, Sarah . . . Mr. King, Mrs. King, your daughter is here.” She flung open a cheerful yellow curtain and Sarah found Father sitting up in bed and
Mamm
in a chair drawn close by. There was a doctor there who was laughing over something Father had said.
“
Ach
, Sarah. Come in,”
Mamm
encouraged. “This is Dr. Caulder, who’s taken over Father’s case. Doctor, this is our youngest daughter, Sarah.”
Sarah shook the hand outstretched to her shyly. Dr. Caulder was an older
Englisch
man with glasses and blond hair, graying at his temples.
“A very beautiful youngest daughter, if I may.” He inclined his head to Sarah, who began to bite her bottom lip.
Father smiled, looking better than the day before. “The doctor is telling
Mamm
that she has to change her cooking ways; you’d better listen too, little Sarah.”
“Well.” Doctor Caulder smiled. “I’d like all of you to cut down on using a few things—butter, salt, syrups, heavy sugars, breads . . .”
Sarah stared at him in dismay, considering he ’d just rattled off about half their everyday diets, but Father laughed and so did
Mamm
.
“
Jah
, we ’ll try.”
“I read a recent report about heart disease and the Amish; it seems that you are the exception to the rule, Mr. King. Heart disease is supposed to be lower among your communities than the average population because you do such hard, physical labor.”
“Then why did this happen to Father?” Sarah burst out.
“As I said, your father is the exception to the rule. His cholesterol, the fatty substance that can build up in your arteries, is very high. His own father passed away from a heart attack, which leads me to suspect that his high cholesterol is hereditary, so it may be something that you and the rest of your family should be aware of.”
Sarah nodded, turning the words over in her head.
“So, Mr. King, my thought is that you can go home . . . let’s see . . . today is Tuesday . . . let’s try for Thursday, but you have to take it easy for a while. No heavy lifting, no stress on the heart. We ’ll go over all of that with you, and I’ll be back tonight to check on you and to hear another story.”
“
Danki
—thanks, Doctor.” Father nodded. “I’ll be ready for you.”
Dr. Caulder chuckled again, patted Sarah’s arm, and slipped from the room. The nurse, Eileen, then took over, dispensing pills and listening to Father’s lungs.
When she ’d gone, Sarah looked at
Mamm
and recognized the deep lines of fatigue on her face, then she glanced at the so-called sleeping chair and had an idea.
“
Mamm
, please, why don’t you let me sit with Father while you go down and sleep in my bed in the little room for a while? I could take you there. You need rest.”
“
Jah
, Mama,” Father spoke. “I don’t like to see you sleep in that contraption. Go and rest and let Sarah entertain me here.”
Mamm
looked ready to protest, but a yawn stopped her and she nodded. “All right, I’ll do as you ask, but only for an hour or so. You have to come and wake me up, though, Sarah.”
“
Ach
, you know that I will;
kumme
, I’ll take you now.”
Mamm
shook her head. “I’ll just find my way.”
Sarah thought of Mrs. Fisher but decided that the chances of
Mamm
seeing her were unlikely, and she handed over the key to her room.
Mamm
bent to kiss Father on the forehead, then squeezed past Sarah as Sarah took her place beside Father.
Mamm
is independent,” Sarah remarked, pulling her chair “closer to the bed.
Father nodded, his eyes half closing as if savoring some memory. “
Jah
, it’s why I married her.”
“Tell me,” Sarah prompted.
“
Ach
, you have heard it before, little one.”
“I feel like you leave something out though each time, so that the story will be fresh for retelling. So tell, please—it will make you a better storyteller tonight for Dr. Caulder,” she added slyly.
Father laughed. “
Ach
, well then, when I was young and my eyes still bright . . . I had to tell a story to win the hand of my love, Letty Rimm.”
Sarah leaned forward, her chin pillowed dreamily on her upturned palm. “And what did Letty Rimm say once you’d told your story?”
Father laughed. “She said that she chose me, for understanding that the hand of a woman is both tame and wild, until true love changes all.”
“I love you, Father.”
“And I too, my daughter.” Then he drifted off to sleep, while Sarah kept steady watch.
G
rant entered the hospital in time for afternoon visiting hours, eager to see Sarah.
He found, upon inquiry, that Mr. King had been moved to the CCU, but when he went there to poke his head in, the old man was sound asleep and no sign of Mrs. King or Sarah was evident.
“They went to the cafeteria,” a pretty nurse whispered to him, her face revealing an interest as to what connection he might have with the Amish family.
But he merely smiled his thanks and hurried away. He passed the flower shop on the way and, on a whim, decided that a bouquet or two might be nice for the King ladies. So he entered and was immediately struck by the woman who smiled at him from behind the counter. There was no mistaking the scar that Sarah had described, but he decided there were probably many scars in the world and he blinked and looked in the refrigerated case of flowers.
“Something for your wife?” the woman asked, and he looked at her again, for her English possessed that distinct melodic undertone so familiar to him from listening to Sarah.
“No.” He smiled. “But two bouquets, please. The fall bouquet in the front and the smaller posy nosegay in the back.”
The woman pulled the flowers from the case and started to wrap them in green tissue paper, wanting to chat as she asked him who he was visiting.
“Friends,” he replied. “They’re an Amish family who live on one of the outlying farms.”
There was no mistaking her reaction; she quieted and then proceeded to add cellophane around the flowers.
“Forgive me, I’m Dr. Grant Williams, a local veterinarian. Are you, by any chance, Mrs. Fisher?”
She met his eyes, the fact that he was a doctor obviously soothing her somewhat, and she nodded.
“I bought your farm—from your husband. I’m sorry I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting you until now.”
“It’s a sad house you bought, then, Doctor—if the walls can remember.”
“I understand.”
“I used to wonder if anyone could, but now I’ve come to find good friends, true friends.”
“I’m glad for that.”
“So you know the Kings?”
“Yes, I’ve come to. Mr. King had a heart attack.”
“I know—I’ve talked with his youngest girl, Sarah.”
Now it was Grant’s turn to look uncomfortable, and the woman smiled.
“
Ach
, I see how the wind blows.”
“No wind blowing,” he lied. “Just friends.”
“Is the posy bouquet for her?”
“You’re very astute.”
“I’ve had to be,” she replied and her pretty mouth drooped a little, emphasizing the scar.
“I’m sorry for that.” He paid for the flowers and gathered them up.
“May I offer a word of advice?” she asked as he turned to leave.
“Certainly.”
“They won’t let her go.
Ach
, the Kings are good people, but the community matters to them. It is their life.”
“I thought God was life,” he returned.
“They won’t let her go, and she is too young to choose to leave it behind. It would be better for you if you would forget.”
“I know. I have a problem, don’t I? It’s not that easy sometimes . . .” He paused.
“To forget?” she asked gently.
“Yes, I’m sorry. That’s what I was going to say.”
“Then we do agree. I wish you the Lord’s blessing in your choices.”
“Thank you.” He smiled at her and nodded, leaving the shop.
S
arah had grown used to the cafeteria in the day or so she ’d been there, and now
Mamm
and she sat eating egg salad and something labeled “yogurt parfait.”
It was interesting to watch the
Englischers
and to observe their hairstyles, dress, and chattiness. In many ways, Sarah found the women to be just like Amish women except for when she saw a pair of high heels or an upswept hairdo held in place by butterfly combs. She was studying a woman in sheer nylons when Dr. Williams came smiling to their table.
“Mrs. King, Miss King. I brought you a little something to cheer your day. How is Mr. King?”
Mamm
took the flowers with reverence. “
Ach
, Doctor—I’ve not had a bouquet of fresh flowers since I’d pick them myself as a girl on the mountainside.”
“Then I guess I need to give Mr. King some lessons in romance when he gets home, hadn’t I?” He ’d meant it as a simple joke, Sarah knew, but the implications struck home and she buried her face in her small posy of rosebuds and baby’s breath. He cleared his throat.
“I wanted to give you a message from the boys at home; they’d like to come and visit. But the work of the farm and stand is a lot to keep going.”
“Jah.” Mamm
nodded. “It’s better that they stay at home. We can manage.”
“Okay, I’ll just go get some lunch.” He wandered off, and
Mamm
took another appreciative breath of her fall arrangement.
“He’s a good man.”
“
Jah
.”
Mamm
gave her a sharp look. “A good
Englisch
man, Sarah, and one I think you’ve grown to care for overmuch despite your father’s and my own trust.”
Sarah could not speak.
“And does he know, little Sarah, this good man, that there can be nothing between the two of you? I would hate to see him hurt.”
“I would not hurt him.”
“Perhaps not on purpose, but he could be hurt. He is of the world, and his world is not yours.”
Sarah nodded, feeling disheartened as the doctor returned with a sandwich and soup.
“Did I miss something serious?” he asked. “You both look sad.”
“
Nee
.”
Mamm
smiled. “We ’re just admiring our flowers. I must get them some water. I’ll take yours, Sarah, and you bring the doctor up to Father when he’s done eating.”
She rose and bustled off, while Sarah cleared up the remnants of their meal onto the plastic tray.
“Now what was that about? Are Amish women not supposed to accept flowers from an
Englischer
?”
She smiled and shook her head. “Of course, they’re very beautiful.”
“Not going to tell me, are you?”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
“Truth, Sarah. Remember?” he asked, spooning up vegetable soup. She looked away. For the very first time, there was nothing to say, nothing that wouldn’t sound presumptuous.
“There isn’t anything.”
“Your first lie to me,” he pronounced. “In the middle of the
Englisch
world. We must be having a bad effect on you.”
“Everyone here has been so kind to Father, to all of us.”
“Before we go and see him, I’d like to take you somewhere.”
She gazed at him,
Mamm
’s words echoing in the back of her mind.
He laughed. “Nowhere unwholesome; I give my word.” He drained the last of his soup and stood up. “Come on, Miss King.”
She followed him through corridors and past office suites and then on another brief elevator ride. They emerged to a lighted world with a giant aquarium taking up nearly the whole of one wall. Sarah approached it, mesmerized.
“What is it?” she asked in wonder, tracing the darting movements of colorful fish among waving aquatic plants.
“A very large aquarium. This is the children’s section of the hospital; I heard Lockport had it redone, and this is a good color and scheme to hold a sick child’s interest for a while.”
She pressed tentative fingers to the glass as if she couldn’t quite believe it was real. A child in a wheelchair rolled up and did the same, and Sarah stepped back.
“It’s cool, isn’t it?” the little girl in the wheelchair inquired.
“Yes, very . . . cool.”
Sarah stood next to Grant, torn between watching the calm face of the child and the movement of the water. There was something resolute in the little one ’s face that made her believe that she ’d probably been sick for some time.
“Come on, there’s something else.” Grant took her elbow and steered her down the hall, its lights recessed into hubs of deep purple and blue.
They entered a cheerful room with a colored carpet that was covered in bright golden stars against a royal blue background. Shelves of books lined the walls, and a woman greeted them with a smile.
“What’s this?” Sarah inquired, not wanting to appear ignorant.
“It’s a library.”