Adoring Addie (25 page)

“I'm staying out here until I know you're asleep.”

I pulled the door shut, imagining him sitting with his back against the door in the dark. It was the most I remembered him doing on my behalf in all my life, although it was exactly the opposite of what I wanted him to be doing.

I sank back down to the bed, feeling as if I'd consumed two pots of strong coffee even though I hadn't had a sip since breakfast. Desperation overtook me and my eyes landed on Mutter's old hope chest. I didn't want my things in there. I didn't want them at all if I didn't have a future with Jonathan. As I opened it, thunder crashed in the distance.

I used the flashlight to peer in. Mutter had folded everything neatly, a first for her. I pulled out pillowcases, taking the stack to the French doors and opening them all the way.

“What are you doing?” Daed called out, as if he were speaking into the crack between the floor and the door.

“Just getting some fresh air,” I replied, stepping onto the balcony for the first time in my life and flinging a pillowcase over the railing. It floated down just as the rain began to start.

“Go to bed.” His voice sounded as if he were half asleep.

I flung another pillowcase over the railing, and it caught for a moment in the air, like a cloud of hope, but then the rain pelted it to the ground. I threw the rest of the stack
over, hurried back to the chest, grabbed a set of sheets, and returned to the balcony.

They didn't sail as far and landed in the flower beds below.

I spun the potholders with a flick of my wrist like Frisbees and they went farther, although I couldn't see how far in the dark. Next went the dishtowels and then the bath towels. I placed my quilts on my bed and kept digging.

It only took me a few minutes until I pulled the last item out of the chest, or so I thought. As I yanked up the linen table runner I'd embroidered when I was eleven, my hand brushed against what felt like paper.

It was a business envelope, wedged upright against the inside bottom of the chest, flush with the corner. I pulled it free. It was addressed simply to
Laurel
. My heart raced as I opened the flap that had been tucked inside and then pulled out a packet of papers.

Sitting down on the bed, I unfolded it and began to read the first one.

LAUREL
, it read, all written in capital letters.

I MUST WARN YOU AGAINST DATING DAVID CRAMER.
No one called my father by his given name.

HE'S A LIAR AND A CHEAT.
I bristled at anyone calling my father that. He was a harsh man, true, but I'd never known him to lie and certainly not to cheat anyone.

YOU CAN DO MUCH BETTER.

I began to feel sick to my stomach, and it was from more than just the content of the letter. It was the writing, the capitals, in particular. Mutter wrote all of her lists in caps.

I patted my apron pocket, feeling the paper inside and pulled it out. It was a list from the day before.

LAUNDRY

WEED THE GARDEN

MEND DAT'S WORK SHIRT

CLEAN THE FLOORS

The handwriting wasn't identical. The list had a shaky appearance, but her hand wasn't as steady as it used to be. I'd noticed that for a few years now.

I kept reading the letters. Each one was more of the same, until the last one.

I KNOW YOU'VE GUESSED WHO'S WRITING THESE. AND SO HAS EVERYONE ELSE. KNOW I ONLY HAVE YOUR BEST INTEREST IN MIND. I MEANT NO HARM—JUST WANTED TO WARN YOU AGAINST MAKING A MISTAKE THAT WILL LAST A LIFETIME.

I shook my head. If Mutter wrote these, what was her purpose? Was she trying to make Daed jealous? Draw attention to herself? Or make him value her love all the more because there appeared to be someone who clearly didn't think he was worthy of her?

I placed the list on top of the letters, clutched them in one hand and the flashlight in the other, and headed toward the door. Opening it, I almost kicked Daed with my foot. He was asleep, sprawled out on the hard floor, guarding my door.

He stirred.

“Daed,” I said, stepping over him and then bending down by his head. “I have something to show you.”

He sat up with a jerk, a stunned look on his face.

“Everything is all right. I just want to show you some things.” I sat down beside him and shone the flashlight on the letter and then the list. “Do you think there's a chance Mutter wrote the letters instead of Dirk? Because it looks a lot like her handwriting.” I shifted the flashlight to her list and then shuffled through the letters to the last one, sure if I could show him that his fallout with Dirk was one big
mistake, then we could put an end to the grudge between the Cramers and the Mosiers forever.

He took the letters from me, and I handed him the flashlight too. He read the last one, then thumbed through back to the first and read them one by one. “Where did you find these?” he finally asked.

“Mutter's old hope chest.”

“Ach,” he said, rising to his feet. “I'll ask your mother.” He patted my shoulder. “But not tonight. Tomorrow. Now go to bed, for sure.”

“Jah,” I said, certain we'd turned a corner. “And then we can talk about Jonathan.”

He exhaled slowly and then said, “We'll see.”

It was the best answer I could hope for. “Good night, then,” I said, taking my flashlight from him and stepping back into my room, pulling the door shut behind me. I waited, listening for his steps going down the hall. When they didn't come, I sat down on my bed, puzzled.

A moment later he stepped away from my door. It took another moment for me to realize he wasn't going toward his door at all but down the stairs.

I stood, listening for a moment, until it came to me what he was up to.

“No.” I rushed from my room, down the stairs, the flashlight still in my hand. When I reached the kitchen, I turned on the beam, shining it on the woodstove. Daed stood in front of it, the door open, striking a match against the side of the box.

He looked up at me as he flung the flame into the stove, followed by the letters.

“No,” I cried out again.

“Go back to bed,” he said, his voice heavy with exhaustion. “I'll explain in the morning.”

He didn't care about the truth, but worse, he didn't care about me. Not about what I needed. All my parents cared about was their own pride. About exactly what, as Amish, we were supposed to deny. I couldn't depend on them. I couldn't depend on my Bruders. I couldn't even depend on my Aenti.

I couldn't depend on Jonathan. I was utterly, completely alone.

I turned and ran, not out the back door or out the front, but up to my room. When I reached it, I shut my door tightly. But I felt no relief. I was trapped. And tomorrow I'd be forced to court Phillip Eicher. I flew to the French doors, flinging them open again, stepping out onto the balcony. My Bruders used to climb down the trellis just over the side. Why couldn't I?

I had to take charge, to at least get to Molly's house.

I eased my leg over the railing of the balcony and scooted all the way to the side, grabbing the trellis. I tugged on it. It seemed secure. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, but everything—the balcony, the railing, the trellis—was slick. I swung one foot onto it, testing to see if it would hold. It did. Then I placed my other foot on it. Daed had built it to be secure, although I was sure he never guessed his daughter would use it to flee. I swung my body off the balcony and onto the trellis.

Tightening my grip, I paused for a moment.

“Remember, God is always present,”
Jonathan had told me. “
Just like the stars, even when we can't see them.”

In my angst, I'd forgotten to pray. I'd forgotten God cared.

He didn't have any pride he needed to protect.

“Dear God,” I whispered.

I took another step down.

“Please help—”

Daed knelt beside me. Timothy stood behind him, talking on his phone. The wail of a siren grew closer.

I must have blacked out again, because the next thing I remembered was pain radiating from my head. The EMTs, one woman and one man dressed in dark pants and white shirts, stooped beside me as Daed stepped backward. Behind Timothy I could see Aenti Nell in her nightgown and robe, a Kapp placed haphazardly on her head.

The woman asked me how I was feeling.

“Fine,” I answered. “I'm okay.” I tried to sit up, but the woman told me not to.

She asked me a battery of questions. Could I move my hands? I did. My feet? Ditto.

The man pulled out a penlight and had me follow it with my eyes.

Then the woman slipped on a pair of latex gloves and felt under my head. “You've got quite a goose egg,” she said. “And some blood.”

I rolled my head to the side a little, orienting myself. The flower bed, lined with rocks, was only a couple of inches from my face. It appeared I'd hit a rock when I landed. I
rolled my head the other way. Across the courtyard, in wet lumps, were my linens, towels, and runner—all that used to represent what I hoped for.

“We'll have to transfer her,” the man said, looking up at Daed. “Probable concussion. Possible neck injury.”

“I'm sorry,” I whispered to Daed.

He didn't seem to hear me.

The woman pulled a white collar from the box beside her and slipped it around my neck, while the man headed back to the ambulance. A moment later he returned with another man carrying a yellow board. Together the three of them carefully rolled me onto my side, slid the board under me, and rolled me back onto it. Then they strapped me to the board, pulling one of the straps snug against my forehead.

Timothy said good-bye to whomever he was talking to, and George stepped forward, patting my arm. “It will be okay,” he said. “We still have a plan.”

I groaned. “Don't do anything stupid.”

“Not like you did, I promise.” He grimaced. “By morning all will be well. Just wait and see.”

I tried to shake my head, but the collar and strap prevented it from moving. “Find Jonathan and tell him the truth. That I'm not depressed.”

“But you are going to the hospital.” George smiled, just a little.

“Tell him why. Don't make him think I'm unstable.”

George looked toward the house, up at my window. “But you are. Don't you think?”

I started to say I wasn't, but the female EMT broke up our conversation. “Who's going with her?” she asked.

“I am,” Daed answered, without hesitating. For a moment
I wondered why Aenti Nell wasn't, but she wasn't dressed. Besides, Daed would need to fill out the paperwork. “Go get my hat,” he said to Timothy. “And my wallet.”

“I'm sorry,” I said to Daed, tears stinging my eyes.

“Ach, Addie . . .” He shook his head as if, for once, he didn't know what to say.

The male EMT jumped into the back of the ambulance, still holding onto the board, and then all three slid me onto some sort of platform. If I didn't hurt so bad, I'd have been mortified that an ambulance had come for me.

Aenti Nell stood at the open doors, with Daed behind her. She held her hand out to me, a befuddled look on her face.

“I'm okay,” I called out. “Tell Mutter.”

She nodded.

Timothy came running—with Daed's hat and wallet, I presumed—and stuck his head in the back of the ambulance. “Get better real quick, Toad.”

I tried to smile at his childhood nickname for me, but even with the brace on, it hurt. Still, he hadn't called me that in years.

He stepped closer, where I could see his brown eyes, the same color as mine. They were bright and caring. He hadn't been drinking tonight. Hopefully he wouldn't.

But a moment later, as the boys all took off in the direction of George's truck, I feared that Timothy was trying to trick George—and that it was working. Someone still might get really hurt.

The driver slammed the back doors. A moment later first one of the cab doors shut and then the other.

The male EMT hit a switch that raised the platform I was on. Then lights filled the back window. My brothers were following in George's pickup. When we reached the highway, though, they turned to the left after the ambulance turned right.

I could only guess where they were going. But I couldn't imagine that they would find Jonathan, not if he'd already left. But if they did, having Timothy the Terrible along would only lead to even more trouble.

There wasn't a radiologist working to read the X rays, so the ER doc made me keep the neck brace on and ordered me to spend the night. He also said I had a concussion, a pretty bad one. The nurses gave me medicine to stop the nausea I was feeling and kept the lights turned low.

I told Daed he should go on home.

“She'll be fine,” the nurse said. “Come back in the morning.”

“I don't have a ride,” Daed said.

“You could call Samuel,” I offered.

Daed shook his head. “He has work in the morning.”

“A taxi?” I closed my eyes. My head pounded.

“One of our aides is getting off soon,” the nurse said. “Where do you live? I'll ask if he's going your way.”

Daed thanked her. “You'll be okay?” he asked.

I nodded, my eyes still closed. Actually I'd be better off alone.

Maybe Daed sensed that, because he didn't say any more until the nurse came in and said she'd arranged a ride for him.

“Good night,” Daed said to me.

I opened one eye. “See you tomorrow?”

“Jah.”

Once my earthly father left, I remembered my unfinished prayer to my heavenly Father, the one I'd started as I'd stepped out onto the trellis.

“Be with Jonathan,” I whispered now. I felt God's comfort as if he were beside me.
Denki, for your care
. I didn't have
the energy to speak out loud any longer.
And that I'm really never alone
.

I dozed after that, but a nurse awakened me a little while later to give me another medication. After that I slept soundly, although my dreams raced from one thing to another. I was in the woods with Jonathan, but then he turned into Mutter. She climbed a tree. Jonathan's father started to chop it down. Daed pushed him away. Mutter fell anyway, and I caught her, but she turned into Aenti Nell by the time she landed in my arms. Joe-Joe fell in the creek. I stooped to scoop him out, but Jonathan caught him on one of the fishing poles he'd carved. Jonathan pulled up blades of grass and started twisting them. The braid grew longer and longer and longer until it landed in the creek and flowed along like water. It was only then I realized I'd been dreaming.

It took me a minute to remember where I was when I awoke. Light streamed through the crack in the window covering, where it hadn't been pulled shut completely. The soft blankets touched my chin, as if someone had tucked me in.

It was then that I sensed someone else beside me—a weight against the bed. Perhaps Daed had returned already. I started to turn my head, but the pain increased and I stopped for a moment, until my eyes fell on a bottle on the little table scooted partway over the bed. Why would the nurse leave medicine out like that? I shifted an inch more.

Jonathan was sitting in a chair pulled next to the bed, his head on the edge of the mattress, his hand extended toward the bottle.

I gasped, which made my headache worse. I closed my eyes against my fear.

My brothers hadn't found Jonathan. Somehow he'd known to come to the hospital anyway and found me as bad off as
George and then Molly had warned. Perhaps he thought I'd jumped from a building or maybe a bridge. Surely, looking at me he thought I'd tried to take my life. Maybe he'd thought I was comatose or even brain dead.

And now there was a bottle of pills. He was passionate yes, but I hadn't thought he was stupid. Could it be . . . ?

I struggled to open my eyes again, to turn my head directly to look at him, but couldn't. Instead I sank back against the pillow, my heart racing, praying I was having another dream.

When I heard my mother scream, I knew for sure I wasn't.

“Addie!” Mutter bellowed like a cow that had lost her calf.

My eyes flew open. Jonathan stirred beside me.

“Thank you, Lord,” Mutter and I groaned in unison.

She collapsed on the end of my bed, Daed right behind her, as I reached for Jonathan's hand, patting the bed until he grabbed mine.

“I thought you were—” Mutter gasped—“both dead.”

Jonathan leaned over me, and I could finally see his face and the questioning expression on it.

I pointed. “The bottle.”

Mutter gasped again. “I thought you'd both overdosed.”

“We wouldn't do that,” Jonathan said, but then gazed into my eyes. “Would we?”

“No,” I whispered. It hurt my head to talk. “I fell. Climbing from my window. Trying to get to you.”

“Jah,” he said. “That's what the nurse said, but I needed to know for sure.”

I pointed, as best I could, to the bottle. “Are those yours?”

He nodded. “From my naturopath. My stomach hurt worse once I got back to Big Valley. I called Molly when I arrived
in Paradise. When she told me what happened to you, that you were here, it flared up again. And worse once I made it to the hospital. That's all.” He picked up the bottle. “I put one under my tongue. . . .”

I would have laughed—if I could have.

Daed stepped closer to me, ignoring Jonathan. “Are you better?”

“Jah,” I answered, “I think so.” The truth was, I felt worse, but that was to be expected. The doctor said even if there was no permanent damage to my neck it would hurt for several days.

“The radiologist is looking at your X rays now,” Daed said. “They'll let us know.”

I touched my forehead.

Mutter noticed. “Is everything all right?”

In some ways things were all right. I had no desire to please my parents at that moment, and funny thing, for the first time in forever I knew my parents did care about me. My father riding along in the ambulance and coming right back this morning. My mother screaming at the thought of me appearing to be dead.

Neither of those reactions were because they cared about what others thought.

And now, flat on my back, helpless, unable to do anything, I felt God's love for me in a way I never had before. He didn't care how capable I was. He cared how dependent I was on him. I felt as if, finally, I was getting to know him better.

In that sense, things were all right.

But what wasn't right was that my parents were pretending—now that he was obviously okay too—as if Jonathan didn't exist.

“Actually . . . everything's not okay.” I closed my eyes.

“Should I ring for the nurse?” Daed asked.

“No. You should acknowledge Jonathan. Pretending he's not here won't make him go away. Avoiding the fact that we care for each other won't make us stop.” I continued to keep my eyes closed.

No one moved, as far as I could tell. No one said a word.

Finally, Jonathan said, “I know this is hard on the two of you, but we should try to work things out.”

As difficult as it was not to open my eyes—especially after Mutter gasped again—I kept them closed, until I heard Timothy call out, “How is she?”

My lids flew open. He rushed into the room, followed by George and Danny. All three were wearing the same shirts as the night before, now wrinkled, and looked as if they hadn't slept. Jonathan stood.

I put my hand out, as if I could stop Timothy.

“Man,” he said to Jonathan, “we've looked everywhere for you. And here you are with Toad.”

There were more footsteps in the hall and someone—Mervin?—yelled, “Wait up!”

Martin scooted into the room first, followed by Mervin.