A Simple Hope: A Lancaster Crossroads Novel (35 page)

The next thing she knew, she was back in the sugar shack, frantically slipping her boots on for an emergency visit to the outhouse. She was really falling apart! As she hugged her jacket closed and traipsed down the dark path, she tried to bring logic to her warped brain. Her cramps were getting worse, and now she felt weak and feverish, wracked by chills and sweating. She needed to see a doctor. Sick at mind and heart, she put up her hood, folded her arms, and pushed into the darkness, one step at a time, one foot in front of the other.

“
W
hat else can we do?” Rachel asked James as they waited for Mark to hitch up a buggy for their ride into the clinic. “I found her passed out in the dirt. She’s taken a turn for the worse, and I’ve tried every remedy under the sun.”

“So she must go to the clinic with us.” James shrugged as he pulled himself out of the chair and held on to the hitching post. He had kept the news of his progress a secret for the most part, but he had revealed a bit to Mark as he couldn’t bear to have the boy lifting him in and out of a buggy. “What did you tell Mark?”

“That she’s my friend, and she’s sick, and we’re taking her to see Doc Trueherz.”

“Well.” James’s dark eyes met hers, and the understanding that glimmered there melted her heart. “You told him the truth. That’s good.”

“She’s already in the back of the buggy, lying down, with a blanket.”

Concerned about Shandell, Rachel had brought her some medicine
made from the boiled-down leaves of blueberry shrubs, but found her collapsed on the ground when she arrived at the sugar shack.

“Shandell, what happened?”

“The path to the outhouse, it’s too long,” Shandell had murmured as her head lolled back toward a lacy green thatch of weeds.

“Did you have a rough night, honeygirl?” Rachel asked gently.

“I can’t go home.” Shandell’s eyes shone with a strange light. “There’s no home, no house. It floated away. Floated over a cornfield.”

“Maybe in your dreams. Did you have a nightmare?” Rachel pressed her hand to Shandell’s hot forehead. “You’re burning up with fever. Can you sit up?”

Shandell propped herself up on her elbows for a moment, then lay down. “My head’s too heavy.”

Worry was a thorn in Rachel’s throat as she rode her scooter back to the Lapp barn. The Englisher girl needed a doctor, and since they were headed to the clinic, there was no reason not to bring her along.

Quickly, she hitched up a cart and brought it back to the sugar shack. Since there was no way Shandell could walk the path through the orchard, this would have to do. Although Shandell wasn’t particularly fond of riding in a cart after her manure experience, it wasn’t difficult to get the girl to lie down in the wooden cargo area. Rachel felt a bit guilty, involving Mark in helping the Englisher girl, but he seemed unfazed as Rachel helped Shandell ease out of the cart and settle into the backseat of the buggy.

As they rode into town, the rocking motion of the buggy and the steady clip-clop of the horse’s hooves seemed to soothe Shandell a bit, but every now and then she would stir and murmur feverish things that Rachel could not make sense of, calling for her mommy and whimpering that she couldn’t go home.

“Poor wounded dove,” Rachel said, wishing that she could offer Shandell some relief.

James rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Why is she so sick?”

“I can’t say. But I think Doctor Trueherz will know.”

“And how will we pay for the doctor?”

Rachel winced. “From the money we were going to use to send her home?” She was almost finished with the second painting, having learned to work in a bubble and pretend that the Englishers watching her at Pepper’s shop weren’t there.

“It probably won’t be enough. Medical bills are expensive.”

“I know. Maybe she has medical insurance. We’ll have to find a way.”

Fortunately, Doc Trueherz’s wife, Celeste, sensed the urgency of Shandell’s condition. She pointed the way for Rachel to help Shandell into an exam room without delay. James followed, his face taut with concern.

“I’ll have him look at her as soon as he gets off the phone.” Celeste eased Shandell down onto the table and strapped the Velcro blood pressure cuff around her upper arm. “Just relax now. We’re going to take care of you, get you comfortable. Shandell? Can you hear me?”

“Mmm. Where’s my mommy?”

“Your mother isn’t here, but you’re going to be okay,” Rachel soothed her.

Celeste Trueherz pumped the cuff up, asking Rachel, “How long has she been disoriented like this?”

“That started this morning, but she’s been sick for a week or so.” Rachel described Shandell’s symptoms as Celeste took notes on a clipboard.

“At the very least, she seems to be dehydrated.” Celeste rubbed Shandell’s upper arm. “We can give her some IV fluids here, but the doc might want her in the hospital.”

The hospital! That would cost a small fortune. Rachel shot an anxious look at James, but he seemed surprisingly calm as he reached over and took her hand.

“We’ll do whatever it takes,” James said, for her benefit and for Celeste’s. “And we’ll pay her bill.”

Celeste looked up from the clipboard, squinting at them. “Why would you do that? Besides, she may have health insurance. But we’re not going to worry about that right now. Doc treats everyone, insurance or not. Either way, she’s going to be here awhile.” Celeste turned to James. “You had better get over to Dr. Finley’s office. We know where to find you if we need you.”

Soon after James left, Henry Trueherz strolled into the exam room with Celeste on his heels. “Morning, Rachel. I see you’ve brought me a friend.” He picked up the chart. “Sick for a week or more. Okay. We’ll have a look at her and we might want to run some tests. Have a seat out in the waiting room and we’ll come get you as soon as we’re done with the exam.”

Rachel nodded, then went over to take Shandell’s hand. “I’ll be right outside.”

As Rachel backed away, Shandell reached for her. “No! Mommy, don’t go.”

Moved, Rachel touched her cheek. No one had ever called her Mommy before, and although she knew it was the fever talking, it pleased her to imagine the children who might need their feverish brow soothed one day. She hoped and prayed that she and James would marry in the fall and start their own family soon.

Thirty minutes later, Rachel was summoned to another room in the clinic—this one with three hospital beds. Fast asleep, Shandell seemed tiny, tucked into the white sheets of one of the beds. A few tubes ran down her body, one taped to her arm and another clipped onto one fingertip. Rachel had seen these gadgets used on James when he had been in the hospital.

“Is it very bad?” she asked Doc Trueherz, who was writing some notes on a clipboard.

“She’s definitely dehydrated, but I think she’ll be fine once we get some fluids in her,” the doctor said. “It sounds like you used some sound home remedies, trying to treat her. Some of those things probably helped.”

“But she wasn’t getting better,” Rachel said.

He nodded. “We’re thinking it’s a bacterial infection. Could come from unpasteurized milk, but I know the Lapps don’t have a cow. You mentioned that she’s been using water from a stream. My best guess is that that water is the source of the bacteria. She’s got to stay away from that creek. In the meantime, antibiotics aren’t called for here. We’ve just got to flush this thing out.”

This was something Rachel hadn’t thought of. “Does she need bottled water?”

“At the very least. We’re going to keep her here for the day. I know that James finishes his treatment around two or three. We’ll get Shandell hydrated and see how she’s feeling this afternoon. You’re free to stay with her or come back later.”

Rachel thanked the doctor and headed out. As she walked to Art at Heart, a new burden was heavy on her shoulders. Where would Shandell live now? Weeks ago, Rachel might have been able to convince her parents to take the girl in for a bit. But now? After she and James had kept things a secret for so long?

They had really gotten themselves into a pickle. Whatever happened from here, there was one thing she knew for sure. They were
going to need that money to help Shandell, and the sooner the better. Good thing she was almost finished with the second of the three pieces for Kiki Grant.

Pepper was helping a customer when Rachel entered the shop. In Rachel’s work space, the painting seemed to smile at her. The crocuses in the foreground were bold and bright and hopeful in front of the peaceful scene of a Sunshine and Shadow quilt draped over a clothesline. She removed her black sweater and set to work on the finishing touches in the sky, the sunbeams and the small flowerbed near the house.

As she worked, Rachel tuned out the conversation behind her until one voice broke through the glaze.

“The rumors were true. Rachel King, painting before our eyes!”

Rachel turned to see the designer, Kiki Grant, with her hands clasped under her chin.

“Is that the piece you’re doing for me?” Kiki’s eyes grew round with wonder.

“It is.” Rachel stood back, her paintbrush tipped in the air. “What do you think?”

“I love it! I am thrilled to death. And the client will be so pleased, too.” Kiki stepped forward and did a quick check with a paper tape measure from her pocket. “The dimensions are perfect. It’s all good, and nearly complete, right?”

Rachel nodded. “Finished today, I think.”

“Fabulous. I had to stop in when I heard that you were painting here. What a great idea. Everyone around here is talking about you.”

The idea of her name being bandied about made Rachel want to take her paints home to the safety of her old room. “I needed a place to paint in Paradise while waiting on a friend. He’s getting medical treatment at the clinic, and he needs to be here every day.”

“Aren’t you a saint.” Kiki pressed a hand to her breast. “You know, we have a lot of wonderful local artists in the area, but none
of the painters are Amish, and that’s what people want. Authenticity, the real deal.”

“Well, I am real.” Rachel smiled, knowing that she could not properly explain why she didn’t want all this attention.

When Kiki took a photo of the painting to show her client, Rachel thought of the time it would take to complete the next painting and her immediate needs. She asked if it would still be possible to work on commission.

“How about this? I’ll come back tomorrow for the finished painting, and I’ll give you a check for the first two.”

“That would be helpful,” Rachel said, “but you can pay Elsie Lapp when you pick up the painting at the Country Store. And I’ll have the third painting to you in a few weeks.”

“Oh, I know your word is good,” Kiki said. “That’s one of the benefits of working with Amish people like you.”

Rachel knew that there were good and bad folks in all walks of life, but she was glad the Amish were known for their honesty. She thanked the designer and got back to work so that she could finish the painting.

Tomorrow, they would have more than enough money for Shandell to travel home, though she probably wouldn’t be well enough. Wasn’t it peculiar? They would have the money at last, but now Shandell was sick. You never knew what the Almighty had in store for you. As Mamm always said, nothing lasts forever, not even your troubles.