Rebecca's Return (14 page)

“Ask whoever shows up. They all know each other.”

“Really,” Beatrice said again.

“Any sign of the medics?”

Beatrice listened before responding, “Hear them in the distance.”

“Good.”

“I’ll keep you advised.” Beatrice placed the radio back in the holder, closed the cruiser door, and stood with her back to the piercing colored lights.

The distant wail of sirens filled the air, as Beatrice walked back to her mother, who was still bent over the sprawled form. “You haven’t moved him, have you?” she asked, a touch of anger in her voice. “You should be inside, Mother.”

“The Lord will take care of him.” Isabelle got to her feet, ignoring her daughter’s tone. “He’s such a sweet boy.”

The approaching wail of the ambulance siren reached a crescendo and then stopped. The flashing lights came around the first house, going south on Unity Road. “The medics are here,” Beatrice said to no one in particular.

“Yes, but the Lord will take care of him.”

“I’m sure He will.” Beatrice took her mother’s hand and led her toward the house. “Let the medics take care of him now.”

“He’s still breathing. I could hear it.”

“Did you by chance see who hit him?” Beatrice asked, her mind already going to prosecution and finding who the hit-and-run driver was.

“No, just a loud car. Then the bang on the house.”

“You didn’t look outside?”

“After the car had roared away, I wasn’t sure if I was hearing things. You know how it is. I wanted to be sure.”

“It’s good you called it in,” Beatrice told her mother.

“The Lord must have helped me,” Isabelle replied. “I wasn’t sure. That young man could have died.”

“That’s right.”

“Lord,” Isabelle looked heavenward and prayed, “this world is getting too much for me.”

“You’ll stay inside now until we’re done?” Beatrice held the front door open, waiting.

“Yes. You’ll stop in then?”

“When it’s done.” Beatrice gently shut the door, already seeing her mother heading toward the front window. Isabelle would be watching till it was over.

Already the medics were rolling their stretcher across the front yard, moving fast. Reaching the prostrate form, they checked for vitals, not taking as long as Beatrice expected they would. Dropping the stretcher down and off the wheels, they gently lifted the body onto the platform, one attendant at each end. They placed the stretcher back onto the wheels and rolled it out toward the road.

“Any ID?” the lead attendant shouted across the yard.

“Not that I could find.”

“He’s Amish?”

“Looks so to me.”

“Figures then.”

“State’s on its way. Can you wait until someone that knows him shows up?”

“No.”

Beatrice glanced at the form strapped to the stretcher, his breathing still shallow. Feeling the need to stall, she asked, “Injuries extensive?”

“Seems stable.” The attendant shrugged his shoulders. “Unconscious.”

“Life flight?”

“No. Doesn’t fit.”

“There might be someone along soon—like his kin.”

“You know his kin?”

“Dispatcher thinks that because the horse isn’t here, word will spread.”

“What? Horses talk? Strange ways, these Amish. Might work—might not. If anyone shows up to ask, we’re at Adams County Medical.”

“Okay.”

“Did you see who did this?” the attendant asked.

Beatrice noted that they were curious enough to take time to ask that. “No. My mother lives here. She called it in. Saw nothing though. Just heard the noise.”

“Nasty piece of work.”

“Yeah. Looks like it hit him from behind. Swerved at the last minute. State will investigate. This will be their case, not mine. Didn’t see any skid marks.” Beatrice was playing for time, hoping for what, she wasn’t quite sure. She stepped away from the ambulance and then stopped at the sound of horse’s hooves on the blacktop coming fast from the east.

The attendant heard it too. “Kin coming?”

“I would guess so. Surely you can wait a minute. It’s the Amish.”

The attendant shrugged, his hand on the door handle. “A minute.”

Stepping off the blacktop to wait, Beatrice watched the buggy come up, its horse panting, nostrils flared from the fast run. An older, bearded man, his hair white in the flashing ambulance lights, came out of the buggy in a rush, leaving his horse standing in the middle of the road, its sides heaving.

“I’m looking for my son,” the man said.

“You just had a horse come home unattended?” Beatrice asked him, moved by the intensity in his eyes.

“Yes—you know that?”

“There’s been an accident. Don’t know who was involved. He has no ID on him.”

“Is he a young man?”

Beatrice nodded. “And your name, sir?”

“Isaac. Isaac Miller. Is he…dead?” Isaac’s eyes went toward the closed ambulance door.

“No, Mr. Miller. He’s alive. Let’s see if this is your son.”

The attendant was already swinging the door open, motioning for Isaac to climb up. He did so, slowly, almost cautiously, Beatrice thought. The dome light shone on the uncovered man strapped to the stretcher, the oxygen mask in place.

“It’s John,” Isaac said softly, his back bent in the ambulance’s tight space. “How serious are his injuries?”

“No broken legs and arms. Don’t know beyond that,” the attendant told him. “Seems to be in a coma. Probably from a head injury. We’re taking him to Adams County Medical.”

“You can’t take him to Cincinnati? Bethesda North?” he asked. “Good people there.”

“No, too far,” the attendant said. “You can transfer him, if you want.”

“You can ride along,” Beatrice interjected, trying to make things easier for Isaac. “I’ll see that your horse is taken care of.”

“No.” Isaac shook his head, slowly climbing back down the ambulance steps. “I will get my wife. We will come as soon as we can.”

“Sorry this happened,” the attendant told him. “We have to be going.”

“The Lord will do as He pleases,” Isaac said, taking off his hat, stepping back toward his buggy. Standing there, Isaac watched as the ambulance slowly took off and then picked up speed.

Beatrice cleared her throat to get his attention. “If you could give me some information, Mr. Miller, it would be appreciated.”

“Oh, yes,” he said, pulling his eyes away from the fading ambulance lights. “His name’s John. John Miller.”

C
HAPTER
S
EVENTEEN

I
saac got back into his buggy. His horse, still standing patiently in the middle of the road, was breathing normal now. Isaac groaned wearily and slapped the reins to gently get the horse moving. His mind, though, was with the ambulance speeding toward the hospital in West Union. His son was not dead, but he was surely seriously injured.

The ride home was much slower. When Isaac finally reached the driveway, he wondered what he would say to Miriam. She would need a few minutes to gather some things together because she might want to stay at the hospital.

When he entered the house, Miriam was on the couch. She looked up, her face composed.

“Is he…?”

Isaac shook his head, not sure how to proceed. “They took him to the hospital—in West Union.”

Her face was unbelieving, processing the implications. “
Da Hah
didn’t take him?”

“No,” he said softy, “they just took him in the ambulance.”

“We’re going to him, of course.” Miriam rose quickly from the couch, gladness in her face, her hands reaching out to Isaac.

Isaac nodded. “I left the horse tied to the barn. Get something—you might want to stay for the night.”

Miriam understood, moving quickly into their bedroom. She soon returned with a small pouch. “Will you stay too?”

“I don’t think so. One is enough.”

“We have to tell Aden.”

Isaac hadn’t thought of that, but it made sense. “We can stop in on the way. They’ll be in bed though.”

“We should tell them. They’ll want to know. Rebecca too, but maybe not tonight.”

Isaac nodded. “I suppose so.”

“Someone needs to know,” Miriam stated.

Isaac knew she was right. Life was a community matter to them, deeply rooted in the conviction that major events were not to be lived alone. “Let’s go then. We have a ways to travel.”

“Should we call for a driver?” Miriam asked, hesitating.

“It will take longer. The horse is able to make the trip quite well. I’d hate to call for someone at this time of the night.”

“Mrs. Coldwell might do it.”

Isaac waited, knowing Miriam well enough to know she needed time to think without pressure or persuasion. Then he said what she already knew. “No, let’s go with the buggy. We’ll get there quicker. It might take an hour for her just to get here.”

After the short drive to Aden’s, Isaac handed the reins to Miriam and walked toward the darkened house. Wishing he had a flashlight, Isaac found his way up the walk with the light coming from the stars. After knocking, Isaac received no answer. And so he repeated the motion, louder this time.

Isaac was about to knock again, when a kerosene lamp light flickered in the front window. A drowsy Aden slowly opened the door, holding the kerosene lamp. His shirt was hanging over his pants, his suspenders limply swinging down the sides of his legs. Before Aden could speak, Isaac said, “John’s been hurt in an accident.”

“Seriously?” Aden seemed to be fast waking up.

“Don’t know. He was unconscious and in the ambulance when I got there. They took him to Adams Medical.”

“What happened?”

“No one seems to know. Got hit from behind, coming back from seeing Rebecca.”

“You need anything tonight?”

“Don’t think so. Miriam will probably stay at the hospital. I’ll come back home—I think.”

“Let me know then if you need anything. And let me know when you find out how he is.”

Isaac nodded in the starlight, moved off the front porch, and headed back down the walk, hearing the door shut behind him.
It is good that someone knows.
A feeling of safety filled him.
Da Hah does indeed not want for anyone to be alone, especially in times like this.

In the silence of the night, they drove down toward Dunkinsville and then south on 41, each lost in their own thoughts. Isaac turned on the rear flashers of the buggy once he was on the state road, their piercing light clearly visible behind him.

Isaac grimaced, thinking of the battery power being used. Hopefully the charge would last for the night’s work. There was just no way he was turning them off on the state road.

Some of the younger boys were going to solar power to recharge their batteries, but Isaac still lugged his out from under the seat of the buggy the old-fashioned way. Only last week had he completed the routine. To reach full battery charge, he had to run the generator in the barn for an hour. The battery ought to be in good shape.

“How bad was he hurt?” Miriam asked, returning to the more urgent matter at hand.

“I couldn’t tell,” Isaac said, hoping his fears would not reveal themselves.

“Did you get to talk to the ambulance attendants?”

“Yes,” Isaac said, knowing Miriam wanted to know more, “one of them said there were no broken legs or arms.”

“He didn’t say why John was unconscious?”

“Likely a head injury,” he said, as calmly as he could.

She said nothing more as the horse’s hooves pounded the pavement. The darkness of the night lit up periodically by passing automobiles. Isaac could see them slowing down and dimming their lights until they figured out what was ahead. Once they identified the horse and buggy, they passed them and sped on their way.

C
HAPTER
E
IGHTEEN

A
t the crash site, Beatrice was still looking around, having given the state cop, Mike Richards, the information she had obtained from the Amish man, Isaac Miller. Beatrice could have left some time ago because Mike was now in charge, but she was still curious. It was her mother’s house where the accident had happened…and it was in her county too.