Abigail's New Hope (16 page)

“That is
not
‘hurry up’ in sign language,” Catherine said quietly.

Daniel looked surprised before his expression faded. “Maybe not, but he and I understand each other and that’s what matters.” He pointed at his cousin and then the barn, and made another chopping motion.

Isaiah nodded with comprehension, scraping the rest of his eggs onto toast to eat like a sandwich. He rose from the picnic table with the grace of a mountain lion.

“I could teach him to communicate,” she insisted as her stubborn streak made an appearance.

“We’ll discuss this another time, Catherine. Right now I have work to do.” Daniel strode from the porch without another word.

She stared at his retreating back and started counting to ten. Before she got very far, Isaiah reached out to tug one of her ribbons. He yanked so hard he pulled her
kapp
askew. After uttering a grunt, he picked up the egg sandwich and loped off the porch. He might have been saying
danki
or perhaps the grunt had been only indigestion.

Catherine straightened her
kapp
and hollered, “You’re welcome” in both English and
Deutsch
. She watched him follow Daniel toward the barn like a dog that had been chastised for chasing a rabbit. Halfway down the path, he turned and waved at her. She waved back like a tourist from a bus window, and then she hurried into the kitchen to start her morning chores.

As she washed dishes, swept floors, and put loads of laundry through the propane washer, ideas swam through her mind. Her years as a nanny for an English family would come in handy. Both of the youngsters, a set of twins, had been born deaf. Catherine had learned sign language to communicate with them. Once the twins learned to read lips, she had to remember to face them squarely while speaking. Although she never became as proficient as their mother, Catherine usually understood their speech patterns. Many words were difficult to master if a person had never heard the correct pronunciation. When the children turned eight, the family moved to Cleveland so that the twins could receive a better education than what their rural district offered.

Catherine still had the booklet she’d used to learn sign language. If she wrote to her younger sister, Meghan would send it to her. What if Isaiah wasn’t simpleminded? What if his brain operated perfectly well, but he hadn’t learned to communicate with his fellow man? Plain schools adequately prepared students to farm, keep house, and work in shops, factories, or construction trades. Apprenticeships taught skills such as woodworking, weaving, roofing, carpentry, and plumbing to young people. But for those with handicaps, Amish schools were woefully inadequate.

In the early afternoon Catherine put Jake down for a nap under a shady tree and gave Laura green beans to snap on the porch. She needed to hang the last load of wet laundry. The Graber yard sloped away from the house, and someone had installed a clever system of lines and pulleys between the house and the eave of the barn. From the side porch, a person could pin clothes on the line and send them out to flap in the breeze up high and away from the people below. It was an ingenious set-up—unless a kink in the rope jammed the pulley—as was the case now. She could neither haul back the dry clothes to fold, nor hang the last load of wet garments. After several attempts to unjam the pulley, Catherine marched to the cobwebby cellar to hunt for a stepladder. She dared not interrupt Daniel with his chores.

When she returned fifteen minutes later without finding a ladder, the pulley was operating smoothly. The load of towels and blankets on the line had been taken down, folded, and set in the basket. Someone had also left a nosegay of daisies on the porch steps.

Simpleminded, my foot
, she thought. Holding the wildflowers to her nose, she arched up on tiptoes to scan the pasture, the vegetable garden, and the cornfield for her elusive admirer. She saw no one.

Catherine felt a stirring in her heart—a heart long thought shriveled and dormant from disuse. But she knew better than to fan the small flame of hope. Daniel Graber would never allow a friendship to grow between her and his protected cousin.

Each day Abby awoke to a different world than the one she’d known on her farm. Her jail cell was really a sparse room with two bunk beds, a toilet, and a small sink. She could take a shower down the hall, but no bathtub had been provided for muscle-soothing soaks. Between ten p.m. and six a.m., she and her roommate were locked inside, but their door remained open throughout the day. During the first hour of the morning, they cleaned their cell, which was then submitted to an inspection at seven fifteen. Each prisoner wore the same dull green jumpsuit emblazoned with “Wayne County Jail” in case she forgot where she was. Her roommate referred to their accommodations as Hotel Wooster. Inmates who earned the deputies’ trust washed everyone’s clothes in the laundry room down the hall. Women who possessed culinary talents prepared their meals. Other trustworthy inmates washed the dishes. Abigail wasn’t awarded any chore to relieve her boredom.

After breakfast, while the other women watched TV in the common room or exercised, Abby closed her door and read her Bible. After Daniel’s last visit, she continued to study the Old Testament. In the book of Leviticus, God called Moses from the tabernacle and gave him detailed instructions regarding how the Israelites were to live. There were complex procedures for burnt offerings, grain offerings, and peace, sin, and guilt offerings; complex rules about unclean animals, people, and houses; specific ways to celebrate holidays and festivals; and what constituted disobedience. The punishment usually was death. By comparison, the Amish
Ordnung
no longer seemed difficult to follow.

Abby didn’t like the book of Numbers very much. It detailed the organization of the twelve tribes into armies while they lived in the Sinai Desert after fleeing from Egypt. But she loved the book of Deuteronomy, which told the story of the Jews traveling through the wilderness, and about Moses receiving the Ten Commandments etched on stone tablets. God had provided for their every need, and yet they had showed no faith and continued to sin. The Israelites’ lack of faith so angered God that, with the exception of just two people, Joshua and Caleb, no one old enough to fight in battle when they left Egypt crossed the Jordan River into the Promised Land, not even Moses.

This morning Abby picked up where she’d left off, taking courage from Scripture. Compared to the Israelites, her woes seemed small.
How a person takes comfort for granted, not appreciating God’s gracious gifts of tranquility and peace of mind
.

Suddenly the door opened and the woman guard stuck in her head. “Visiting day,” she announced.

“Thank you, but I won’t have anyone today.” Abby knew Daniel wouldn’t have made the trip again so soon, not in the high season for farm chores.

“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong.” The deputy winked one green eye. “Someone has signed in.”

“Who’s come to see me?” Abby asked with growing anticipation.

Deputy Todd glanced at her clipboard. “Dr. Gerald Weller. He’s on your list of potential visitors.”

“Dr. Weller is here? I used to work with him…” Abby’s explanation hung in the air because the deputy had already left.

She thought of several questions on her way to the visitation room:
Will Dr. Weller be angry with me? Did he land in trouble because of my behavior? Will he pity me and feel sorry for my circumstances? Or will he feel I deserve everything I got and much more for overstepping my bounds?

When she arrived, the small, distinguished doctor was already sitting at the table. His gray hair was windblown from the parking lot, his sport coat looked too warm for the July heat and humidity, and his folded hands were age-spotted and paper-skinned. But his cool blue eye met hers without a shred of animosity.

“Abigail,” he murmured as he rose clumsily to his feet.

“Dr. Weller. It’s good to see you, but you shouldn’t have come. You probably left an office full of patients, many who need you more than me.”

“I rescheduled them. I’m sorry I haven’t been here sooner.”

“Thank you for coming to court for my bail hearing. I saw you in the…audience.” Abby didn’t know correct courtroom terminology.

“I wanted to make a statement on your behalf, but I was told I had to wait until the pretrial hearing.”

“You wished to speak for me?” she asked, as hope stirred deep in her chest.

“Of course I do. Mrs. Fisher wasn’t my patient and therefore she was not
your
patient. From what I could find out, she wasn’t under a doctor’s care, so she had no business calling you instead of an ambulance.”

“I told her husband to call the EMTs, but he refused.”

Dr. Weller held up his hand. “I know. I spoke with him at the hospital the next day. He stayed overnight in the waiting room so they could keep an eye on the baby. He doesn’t like courthouses any better than his wife liked hospitals, but I believe he will testify on your behalf. How far along was Mrs. Fisher when you arrived at their farm?”

“She had dilated nine centimeters and was in tremendous pain. Her contractions were worse than any I’ve ever witnessed.”

“And you called the ambulance before setting foot in Mrs. Fisher’s bedroom?”

“
Jah
, as soon as I reached their house.”

“Then, in my opinion as a physician, you were acting not as a midwife but in a Good Samaritan capacity.”

Abby’s forehead furrowed with confusion. “But I am a midwife. That’s why Nathan Fisher called me. His wife got my number from someone in their district.”

“You were also trying to save the life of the child. If you had stood by and waited for medical personnel to arrive, most likely the baby would have also died. And nothing you could have done would have saved Mrs. Fisher. She shouldn’t have chosen home delivery with her medical condition. In fact, she’d been advised back in Indiana not to get pregnant in the first place.”

Abby glanced left and right to make sure no one was listening. She’d discussed birthing matters with Dr. Weller often enough to not be embarrassed, but she wouldn’t like anyone overhearing them. “That’s what Nathan told me at the funeral.”

“In my professional opinion, you saved the life of Abraham Fisher. The county prosecutor might not agree. He might call expert witness to the contrary, but I don’t think he will. A healthy, thriving child delivered from a dying woman is strong evidence.” Dr. Weller smiled for the first time since arriving. “Now tell me again what you did for the baby.”

Abby’s head began to throb as she remembered Ruth’s cries, the oppressively hot bedroom, and the overwhelming smell of blood. “A few moments after I examined Ruth she was fully dilated, so on one of her contractions I was able to pull the baby free. But her contractions grew weaker as she lost more blood. After I cleaned mucus from the baby’s nose and mouth, he started breathing and crying. I wrapped him in a blanket and handed him to Mr. Fisher. I told him to keep the child warm while I tried to help his wife.” Tears were streaming down her face. “But I couldn’t save her,” she croaked. “There was too much blood.”

Dr. Weller covered her hands with his. “No, you couldn’t save her. It’s doubtful that I could have either without proper medical equipment, IVs, and an accomplished surgeon. You shouldn’t blame yourself for that woman’s death.”

Abby removed one of her hands from his to wipe her face with her handkerchief. “I don’t, not really. God called her home. That’s what I believe happened.”

Weller nodded in agreement. “Your attorney should have no trouble with the charges of ‘practicing midwifery without a license’ in this emergency situation, and he certainly should be able to get ‘manslaughter’ dropped at the pretrial hearing. That one is ridiculous anyway.” He glanced across the room and sighed. “But the ‘practicing medicine without a license’ and ‘possession and sale of a dangerous controlled substances’ charges are a different story. Did you really give Ruth Fisher an injection of Pitocin?”