Rebecca's Return (36 page)

“You’re going to eat it then?”

He nodded. “Yes, everything’s fine.”

“Okay then,” she said, shutting the door.

He studied his right hand for a moment, then lifted his left and took the plastic fork in his fingers as best he could. The fork felt strange and unwieldy, threatening to go places and do things he didn’t want. Carefully he brought the fork down, picked up a little of the mashed potatoes, touched the bottom edge into the gravy, and then brought the food to his mouth.

The taste was worse than he expected, but it was food, and he needed food. That was if he wanted to avoid that nasty looking needle the nurse called the feeding tube. The red bruise on his unfeeling right arm and the round patch of crusted blood verified where the needle had been.

The thought of Rebecca returned and with it the urgency of seeing her. Surely, he thought, she would not leave him without first talking. Yet he did not know what she would do, and in that uncertainty, lay his dread. He faintly remembered his anger the last time he had seen her, his fear that her heart was being drawn to the shadowy Mennonite boy from her childhood. And with the memory, came his first feelings of shame.

Taking another bite of the food, the fork in his left hand shook. Laying the fork on the tray, he rested, shaking his head in an attempt to clear it.
What had actually happened and what had not? Had we not planned on talking on Sunday night? What Sunday night was that, and when had it passed? Have I acted unreasonably?

Searching his mind, he became certain that he had. Yet what was he supposed to do about it? He thought of what his mother had said earlier and felt ashamed again. He didn’t deserve his family or Rebecca. The thought troubled him.

Picking up the fork again, he brought more food to his mouth and swallowed it slowly and carefully. So focused was he on trying to eat, he didn’t hear the door open again.

This time it was not the nurse.

He looked up just as he heard her say, “You’re awake.”

She was more beautiful than he had remembered, her face soft with concern as she moved across the room toward him.

“You’re awake,” she repeated.

Her words stirred emotions from the past, memories from a day when the sun had been shining and he could walk on his own two feet, reach with both his hands toward her, touch her from his own strength, from the love he felt for this girl. “You’ve come,” he managed to say, not quite keeping the surprise out of his voice, struggling to lift his left hand weakly in her direction. “I was just thinking about you, and…”

She smiled and reached out for his hand, but he could only lift his left hand to hers.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. It was all he could think to say.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. She moved closer to the rail of his bed, her grip tightening on his left hand. “How are you? It’s so wonderful that you’re finally back. It was so long.”

He had to grin in spite of himself. “The food is terrible. Doesn’t even taste like food.”

“Poor fellow,” she said teasingly, drawing closer to him.

He knew what she was going to do and was in the process of turning his head away…when he stopped. Maybe it wasn’t right, but he wanted this to happen. His right hand awkwardly moved toward the other, rising to reach out for hers, as she gently kissed him.

“You’re wonderful,” he whispered. “How can you still love me after the way I suspected you?”

“Let’s not talk about it now.”

“My mind is foggy.” He let go of her hand, rubbing his forehead. “But something tells me I was—well, angry with you…that night at your house.”

“Yes,” she allowed, “but you had some reason for it.”

“No.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry it ever came up.”

“It’s okay,” she said, taking his hand again.

“I’ll never be worthy of you. And no more kissing. That has to wait.”

“Once won’t hurt,” she told him, a twinkle in her eye. “Special occasion. You are getting better now and will soon be home.”

“My right arm just moved,” he said, the realization of what he had done earlier dawning. “It must have been you.”

“I’m glad I’m of some good,” she said quietly. “Does your arm hurt?”

“A little,” he said. “The other didn’t hurt at all. No feeling. That was the problem.”

“Does the doctor know what will happen?”

He shook his head slightly. “They never say for certain. I think I will be better though. You are here now.”

“That can’t be everything,” she said with a smile.

“Most everything. You are beautiful.”

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” she told him.

“And you shouldn’t kiss me.”

“Do you want me to tell you about Atlee?” she asked abruptly.

“You don’t have to,” he said.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he insisted. “I don’t need to know.”

“We shouldn’t have secrets,” she replied, making a face. “It was like this. When I was a young girl in Milroy, I liked a boy named Atlee,” she said, glancing at him. “But his parents went Mennonite, and we, of course, were then in two different worlds. Before his family moved away, though, he asked me to promise something. We promised we would meet again when I was twenty-one. At the bridge. That we would wait for each other till then.”

“But you didn’t?” he asked.

“No, I met you.”

“Did he wait for you?”

“No.” She smiled gently.

“Do you wish he had?” he asked.

“No,” she said, bending over the bedrail, kissing him on the cheek this time. “I love you now, and the past is the past. I’m no longer a schoolgirl. My heart is larger, and you have filled it.”

“Even if I’m a cripple forever?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, a tear in her eye, “even then.”

“But I’m not going to be one,” he said confidently. “I’ll get better. You’ll see.”

“I know you will, John,” she told him. “And, yes, I did go back to the bridge when I was in Milroy. I had to see. To settle the matter.”

His eyes found hers. “He didn’t come back? Did he?”

She shook her head.

“Would you have gone with him if he had?”

“No,” she mouthed the words.

Tears stung his eyes as he whispered, “You really are too wonderful. I don’t deserve you. But I
am
going to get better. And I really was wrong. Very wrong to act like I did.”

“I should have told you sooner,” she said, as the door opened behind them and let in the nurse.

“Am I interrupting?” she asked.

“No, we’re finished,” Rebecca said, to which John nodded.

C
HAPTER
F
ORTY-SIX

R
ebecca left some twenty minutes later, wanting to get home before too late. Dr. Wine stopped by soon afterward for a final check on John, finding him still awake and quite cheerful.

“Well, I see you’re looking better,” he said not sounding surprised. “The visit with the young lady do you good?”

“That was my girlfriend,” John said, a silly grin on his face.

“The nurse mentioned it.” Dr. Wine was checking John’s chart and scribbling notes. “How are you feeling?”

John got an even bigger grin. “Both hands work now. At least better than before!”

Dr. Wine came over and ran his hand down John’s side, squeezing and seeming pleased when John winced. “Good progress already, I would say. You’re not quite where you need to be, but you’re well on your way. You might need some more visits from that young woman.”

To which John only smiled.

“Get some sleep then. Tomorrow you’re going home. Is that good news?”

“Very good news. Twice good now. All in one day,” John said.

“You’ve been through a lot,” Dr. Wine said. “I guess it’s time for things to turn around for you. You settle in now. Sleep can only do you good.”

After Dr. Wine left, John had no trouble falling asleep, and his first thought, when he awoke the next morning, was that of going home. Even breakfast was bearable with that on his mind. The egg, toast, and small bowl of oatmeal sat before him only momentarily before he started eating.

With breakfast done, John noticed his right leg alternating between stings of pain and a tingling sensation. When the nurse came in for the breakfast tray, he told her of the strange sensations in his leg, and she told him this could only be good news. That any feeling in the leg was good news.

Miriam came for him around eleven, having found a driver with a handicap accessible van from across the river in Maysville. John felt a little embarrassed, rolling out of the hospital in the wheelchair, but was happy to be going home.

Isaac walked in from the harness shop when he saw the van approaching, meeting them in the driveway. When Isaac rolled open the van door, John saw tears in his father’s eyes.

“You are home, son,” Isaac said, taking both of John’s hands in his. “It has been
Da Hah
’s will that we should see you this well again.”

“I’ll be better soon. All the way,” John said.

“You must accept what will be,” Isaac told him quickly, taking the handle of the wheelchair and gently rolling John down the ramp.

John nodded.

After making their way across the rough, graveled drive, Isaac wheeled John into the house, where John saw that the bed from his room had been moved downstairs to the sewing room.

“But your sewing things,” John said to his mother, alarm in his voice. “I don’t have to sleep down here.”

“You’ll be much more comfortable down here, where I can take care of you,” Miriam told him.

“And I sure wasn’t going to pull this chair up the stairs,” Isaac added.

“I’m getting better fast,” John said. “You shouldn’t have bothered.”

“Well, until you
are
better, you’re staying down here,” Isaac said firmly.

When Miriam served lunch, Isaac pushed John’s wheelchair up to the kitchen table. The sight of his mother’s sandwiches made him even more certain the restoration of his body would come quickly.

“Nothing like your cooking,” John told his mother, after they had paused for prayer. “The food at the hospital was awful.”

“I’m sure Rebecca’s food will be just as good,” Miriam said. “Did I tell you? She held up real well during this time.”

“She’s a very wonderful girl,” John said, meaning more than his parents would ever know.

“It’s good things turned out well,” Isaac said, satisfaction in his voice. “We learn and then we go on living. And always we must give thanks.”

“She would have stayed with me even as a cripple,” John said. “I don’t deserve that.”

“No man deserves a good wife,” Isaac told him. “It is
Da Hah
’s mercy on us men. That is all it is.”

“Well!” Miriam exclaimed. “It goes both ways. You are a good man, Isaac.”

“Sometimes,” Isaac allowed. “That also is mercy.”

His sandwich done, the excitement of the homecoming fading fast, tiredness creeping through his entire body, John said, “I think I’d better lie down.”

“Oh my!” Miriam said. “Here we are talking, and you’re still a recovering boy. Let’s get you settled in.”

“I won’t be recovering for long,” John muttered under his breath.