A Merry Heart (13 page)

Miriam sat staring at the floor and breathing quick, shallow breaths like she couldn’t get enough air.

“Maybe it would help if you wrote down your feelings,” Anna suggested. “In the last article I wrote for
The Budget
, I expressed my deep hurt over the loss of your daed, and just writing it down helped to ease some of the pain.”

Miriam looked up and shook her head. “I tried keeping a journal after William left for Ohio, and where did that get me?”

Anna wasn’t sure what to say, so she closed her eyes and did the only thing she knew could help. She prayed that the Lord would release Miriam of her pain and help them all in the days ahead.

The fall harvest was finally complete, and everyone’s workload had lightened a bit. One afternoon in early November as Miriam dismissed her students at the end of the school day, she noticed that a storm seemed to be brewing. Angry-looking dark clouds hung over the school yard, and the wind whipped fiercely against the trees. Miriam figured a torrential rain was sure to follow, and she hoped everyone would make it home before the earth was drenched from above.

“I’ll give you a ride,” Miriam told her six-year-old niece.

“Okay.” Rebekah smiled and gave Miriam a hug. “Are you ready to go now?”

“In a few minutes. I need to get the blackboard cleaned and gather up a few things before I leave. Then I’ll head out to the corral and get my horse hitched to the buggy.”

“Is it okay if I wait for you outside?” the child asked.

“Jah, but you’d better wait in the buggy because the clouds look like they’re about to burst wide open.”

Rebekah darted out the schoolhouse door. “I will,” she called over her shoulder.

Miriam hurriedly erased the blackboard and was about to write the next day’s assignment, when a clap of thunder rent the air, causing the schoolhouse to vibrate. It was followed by a loud
snap
and then a shrill scream that sent shivers spiraling up Miriam’s spine.

She rushed to the door, and a sob caught in her throat when she saw Rebekah lying on the ground next to her buggy, pinned under a tree limb that lay across her back. “Oh, dear
God,” Miriam cried with a muffled groan. “Please let her be all right.”

Rebekah was unconscious when Miriam got to her. A gash on her head was bleeding some, but Miriam couldn’t tell the full extent of her niece’s injuries. She felt Rebekah’s wrist for a pulse and was relieved when she found one, but the tree limb was heavy, and she couldn’t lift it off the little girl’s back.

She looked around the school yard, feeling helpless and alone. All the other children had already gone home. She knew Rebekah must be taken to the hospital, but she couldn’t do that until the limb had been removed. There was a farm down the road, owned by an English couple, but if she went there to phone for help, she would have to leave Rebekah alone.

Miriam seldom found herself wishing for modern conveniences, but at the moment, she would have given anything if there had been a telephone inside the schoolhouse. “Oh, Lord, what should I do?” she prayed, as she wrapped a piece of cloth she’d torn from her apron around Rebekah’s head. “I don’t ask this for myself but for the dear, sweet child who lies at my feet. Please send someone now, or I must leave her alone and go for help.”

Miriam heard the
clip-clop
of a horse’s hooves and knew a buggy must be approaching. As soon as it entered the school yard, she realized it was Amos Hilty, who’d probably come to pick up his daughter because of the approaching storm.

“Oh, Amos, Mary Ellen has already gone home, and—and. . .a tree limb fell on my niece.” Miriam pointed to the
spot where Rebekah lay. “She’s alive but unconscious, and I can’t lift the limb off her back.” Her voice shook with emotion, and her breath came out in short, raspy gasps.

Amos hopped down from his buggy and hurried over to the child. In one quick movement, he lifted the limb and tossed it aside. “Let’s put Rebekah in my buggy, and we’ll take her to the Andersons’ place so we can call for help,” he suggested.

“I don’t think she should be moved. What if something’s broken? What if—” Miriam choked on a sob, and she felt as if there was no strength left in her legs.

“You wait here then, and I’ll make the call for help.”

Miriam nodded. “Please hurry, Amos. She hasn’t opened her eyes, and I think she might be seriously injured.”

“I’ll go as quickly as I can.”

As Amos sped out of the school yard, Miriam feared his horse might trip and fall.
Please let Rebekah be all right, Lord
, she fervently prayed.

For the next twenty minutes, Miriam stood over Rebekah, praying that she would live and that Amos would return with help before it was too late. It seemed like hours until she finally heard the ambulance’s siren, and she breathed a sigh of relief. The wind continued to howl, but the rain held off until Rebekah had been strapped to a hard, straight board and placed into the back of the ambulance.

“I need to go to the hospital with her,” Miriam told Amos, who had returned to the schoolhouse to offer further assistance. “But someone needs to notify Andrew and Sarah.”

“You ride along in the ambulance, and I’ll go over to
your brother’s place and tell them what’s happened to their daughter before I head for home.”

“My buggy. What about my horse and buggy?”

“I’ll see that they get safely home for you.” Amos touched her arm. “Try not to worry, Miriam. Just pray.”

Miriam nodded and numbly climbed into the ambulance. As the vehicle pulled out of the school yard with its siren blaring, she looked out the back window and saw Amos climbing into his buggy. “I never even told him thank you,” she murmured.

After numerous tests had been run on Rebekah, the doctor’s reports were finally given, but the news wasn’t good. Rebekah had a concussion and a bad gash on the back of her head where the tree limb had hit. However, the worst news of all was that her spinal cord had been injured, and if the child lived, she would probably never walk again.

Miriam clamped her lips together to keep from screaming, and Sarah sobbed. Andrew wrapped his arms around Sarah as tears coursed down his sunburned cheeks.

Why would God allow this to happen to an innocent young child?
Miriam fumed as she clenched her fingers tightly. “I’m so sorry,” she said, nodding at Andrew and Sarah. “If I just hadn’t allowed Rebekah to wait outside for me. If only—” Her voice broke, and she bolted from the room.

As Miriam made her way down the hospital corridor, she was reminded of that terrible night she had fled the hospital after learning that Papa was dead. When she’d opened the door that led to the street, she half expected to see Nick standing on the other side, but he wasn’t there this time to offer words of comfort and a listening ear. Suddenly, she remembered the last words he’d spoken to her.
“If there’s ever anything I can do to help you or your family, feel free to call my office at the newspaper.”

Should I call?
she wondered.
Should I be turning to an outsider for comfort and support?

As Miriam turned the corner and headed for the telephone booth at the end of the block, she was relieved that the storm had subsided. She stepped inside and dialed the number of the
Daily Express
, but her fingers trembled so badly she feared she might be hitting the wrong buttons.

“Hello. May I speak to Nick McCormick?” she asked when a woman’s voice came on the phone. “He’s a reporter at your newspaper.”

“One moment, please.”

Miriam held her breath and waited anxiously. At least she had reached the newspaper office and hadn’t dialed the wrong number.

“This is Nick McCormick. How may I help you?” she heard Nick say a few seconds later.

“It–it’s Miriam Stoltzfus. You said I should call if I ever needed anything.”

“Sure did, and it’s good to hear from you again. What can I do to help?”

Miriam pressed the palm of her hand against the side of her pounding temple. She hoped she wasn’t about to be sick. “I. . .uh. . .need to talk. Can we meet somewhere?”

“Where are you now?”

“About a block from Lancaster General Hospital.”

“The hospital? Are you all right?”

“It’s not me. It’s my—” Miriam’s voice broke, and she couldn’t go on.

“Miriam, whatever’s happened, I’m so sorry,” Nick said in a reassuring tone. “Remember the little café where we had coffee a few months ago?”

“I remember.”

“Meet me there in fifteen minutes. You can tell me about it then.”

M
iriam found the café to be full of people when she arrived a short time later. A quick look at the clock on the far wall told her it was the dinner hour. Her eyes sought out an empty booth, but there was none. She stood feeling nervous and self-conscious, as everyone seemed to be looking at her. Was it the fact that she was wearing Plain clothes that made them stare, or was it her red face and swollen eyes?

“May I help you, miss?” the man behind the counter asked.

“I’m. . .uh. . .supposed to meet someone here, and we need a table for two.”

“The tables and booths are all filled, but you can take a seat on one of the stools here at the counter, if you’d like.”

Not knowing what else to do, Miriam took a seat as the man suggested and studied the menu he’d handed her. Nothing appealed. How could she have an appetite for food when her niece was lying in the hospital, unconscious, with the prospect of being crippled for the rest of her life? Rebekah was such a sweet child, easy to teach and always
agreeable; she didn’t deserve such a fate.

Miriam gritted her teeth and clenched her fingers around the menu so tightly that her knuckles turned white.
I should never have let Rebekah go outside without me when I knew a storm was brewing.

A firm hand touched Miriam’s shoulder, and she turned her head. “Nick! How did you get here so quickly?”

Nick lifted his arm and pointed to his watch. “It’s been over thirty minutes since we talked, and I told you I’d be here in fifteen. So I’m actually late, fair lady, and I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.” He looked around. “It’s sure crowded in here. Was this the only seat you could find? It won’t give us much privacy, you know.”

“I’ve been waiting for one of the booths, but no one seems in much of a hurry to leave.”

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

Miriam shook her head, one quick shake, and then another. “I could use something to drink, though, and maybe some aspirin.” She rubbed the pulsating spot on her forehead and grimaced.

“Headache?”

She nodded. “I get bad migraines whenever I’m under too much stress, and I don’t have any white willow bark herb capsules with me right now. They usually help.”

“I’ll get you some iced tea to go,” Nick offered. “I’ve got a bottle of aspirin in the glove box of my car. How about if we go for a ride? We can talk better if we have some privacy, and I don’t think we’ll get any in here.”

“I—I suppose it would be all right,” Miriam said hesitantly. “But I shouldn’t be gone too long. I left my brother
and his wife at the hospital, and I didn’t tell them where I was going or when I would return. They’ve got enough on their minds right now, and I don’t want them to worry about me.”

“I promise not to keep you out past midnight.” Nick smiled and gave her a quick wink before turning to the waitress and ordering an iced tea to go.

Heat rushed to Miriam’s face, and she tried to hide it by hurrying toward the door. She wasn’t used to having a man flirt with her the way Nick did, and whenever he flashed her that grin, she felt as if her insides had turned to mush. Maybe he didn’t mean anything by it. It might have been just a friendly gesture or his way of trying to get Miriam to relax.

She walked silently beside him across the parking lot until they came to a small, sporty-looking vehicle. He opened the door on the passenger’s side and helped her in.

Miriam could smell the aroma of new leather as she slid into the soft seat. “You have a nice car,” she commented after he’d taken his seat on the driver’s side.

“Thanks. It’ll be even nicer once it’s paid for.” Nick reached across Miriam and opened the glove box. He pulled out a small bottle of aspirin and handed it to her. “Here, take a couple of these.”

“Thank you.” As soon as Miriam had swallowed the pills with the iced tea Nick had purchased for her, he turned on the ignition and pulled away from the curb.

“Do you want to tell me what’s bothering you now, or would you rather ride around for a while and try to relax and get rid of that headache?”

Miriam clutched the side of her seat with one hand while hanging on to her tea with the other. “Going at this speed, I’m not sure I can think well enough to speak, much less relax.”

“How about if I pull over at the park so you can sit and relax while you tell me what’s happened?”

“That—that would be fine, I suppose.” Miriam pulled nervously on the ties of her
kapp
, where they dangled under her chin. Being alone with Nick made her feel a bit uneasy, since he had such an unsettling way about him. The strange way he kept looking at her stirred something deep within, too, and it made her feel giddy—like she used to feel when she and William had been courting.