Seasons of Tomorrow (32 page)

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Authors: Cindy Woodsmall

BOOK: Seasons of Tomorrow
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Emotions piled on top of him, as numerous as dust particles and as heavy as gold. Was he wrong to leave when so much rested on Samuel’s and Rhoda’s shoulders? Was he letting his family down?

He had to talk to someone, and he knew exactly who that someone was.

But would Esther even speak to him after the way he left?

TWENTY-SIX

Rhoda leisurely paced the hospital room, Bible in hand, reading Phoebe’s favorite passages of Scripture—the book of Ephesians. She paused and watched Phoebe. What was the saying, “So close and yet so far”? That’s how it felt with Phoebe. Rhoda moved to the chair and took her by the hand.

“You have to keep fighting. We’re praying, just like I’ve been praying out loud since I arrived hours ago. I … I wish you were going to be at the wedding. You’ll be moved Monday to a hospital close to our parents, and everyone will leave the farm together. Samuel and I will marry on Thursday and return to the farm Friday. It’s all happening so fast.”

Was it right to get married while Phoebe’s life hung in the balance? All of life seemed upside down. Everything except her and Samuel.

“I’ve been seeing visions of you, and I heard you call to me.” Just like Rhoda had heard Emma’s voice after she’d died. “But Samuel helped me understand what was happening and why.” Rhoda ran her thumb over the back of Phoebe’s hand. “I should start calling him Stonewall Samuel.” She laughed. “When I try to run from all that frightens me, he won’t let me. He insists I dump all my fears and visions and pieces of intuition onto him. We talk until I have peace. I think I understand myself and my gift better now. It wasn’t really your voice or Emma’s. It was my own recollections mixing with trauma that taunted me.”

Even now warm peace surrounded her, but one thing troubled her. Phoebe had spent years looking forward to the day Rhoda would marry. She’d prayed for the right man long before Rhoda even admitted to herself that she might want to marry one day.

“You’d be proud of Steven. He’s making hard decisions, good ones, I think. No one knows for sure, not even the best doctors.” The men were in the orchard spraying the trees. Rhoda’s and Phoebe’s Mamms were cooking while Leah and Iva watched the children, did laundry, and delivered drinks and food to the men. “And I’m here with you because Steven wanted
someone with you, and I won’t get much time with you after today.” Rhoda squeezed her hand. “The idea of marriage is terrifying. What if I can’t keep his love? Do men think of such things?”

Rhoda longed for Phoebe to open her eyes, to talk with her. Without Phoebe who would she ask such things? Rhoda took a sip of water and cleared her throat. “I know you want the baby to live, and you know everyone who loves you will do their best to help raise him right, but he needs his Mamm.”

I need you
.

“Steven won’t be the same great dad without you. Did he tell you that you’re having a boy?”

The sheet over Phoebe’s belly moved. Rhoda’s pulse quickened, and she lifted the sheet out of the way, revealing Phoebe’s rounded stomach. Sensors on her taut skin were connected to a monitor that showed the baby’s heart rate. Phoebe had on a hospital gown, but her stomach was bare, probably to make the wires attached to it more easily accessible. Phoebe’s stomach seemed to wad on one side, and then her skin quivered in that very spot.

“The baby’s moving.” Rhoda glanced at Phoebe’s face. “Can you feel him?” She placed her hand on Phoebe’s belly. “Little one.” Chill bumps ran from Rhoda’s head to her feet as she realized he missed hearing his mother’s voice. Rhoda had to tell her brother to keep talking to the baby, to read aloud and make sure his son knew his Daed was still here. “We’re here for you, little one. You stay strong and fight. Do you hear your aunt? You fight.”

This planet needs you
.

It felt as if God was speaking the words inside her. Rhoda took Phoebe’s hand in one hand, rested her other hand over the baby, and prayed as she’d never done before. As real as the living, moving baby inside Phoebe, Rhoda felt faith and hope move inside her.

A thought of Jojo and her daughter washed over her, and she went to the phone and dialed 411. In less than a minute, Rhoda had the store number and was dialing. She hoped Jojo was at work. A voice came on the line, and despite a slight tug of anxiety, Rhoda asked for Joella and waited as they connected her.

“This is Joella. How may I help you?”

“Jojo, it’s Rhoda Byler, and I had an encouraging thought about you and your daughter. I’m hoping you’ll let me share it.”

Jojo clicked her tongue. “Am I supposed to say no after some premonition led you to Camilla?”

“Do you believe in the forces of good and evil?”

“I’d be an idiot not to, but what controls those forces is anybody’s guess.”

That was enough to build on. “Darkness tried to extinguish the light in you. But you held on to all of it you could, and now you’re doing all you can to protect the light in Sophia. I think that’s remarkable. And as a believer in God, I think He’s very pleased with you.”

“I can’t say I return the favor to God.”

“No. How could you? You prayed for help as a child, and none came.”

“How … do you know that?”

Rhoda hadn’t meant to let that slip. “Probably the same way you look at Sophia and know things. Maybe it was your body language when you tried to hold back your years of anger while telling Camilla how you felt about her keeping Zachary in an abusive home. I really don’t know. Sometimes love just knows.”

She scoffed, and Rhoda knew she didn’t believe anyone cared except the married guy. “Anyway, I’ll let you get back to work. I just needed to let you know that I believe you’ve done a great job protecting Sophia so far.”

“I know I haven’t done great. I … I try, though.”

“It’s remarkable that you have it in you to try as hard as you do. We don’t all start at the same place. With a home like you grew up in, you began life in the negative numbers. But you’re not there anymore.”

“But you think that I’ll get there again and that I’ll drag Sophia with me. Isn’t that what this call is about?”

Rhoda hadn’t realized how difficult it would be to encourage someone who was jaded. “I think you’re being tempted to make an unhealthy choice and God is giving you an out.”

“And that
out
is Camilla?”

Rhoda hoped Samuel would agree with what she was going to say. “It
can be me if you like. We’ll make room for you and Sophia on the farm. It’s not ideal, but it’s a start.”

Stony silence. Had she hung up? “Jojo?”

“I’m here.” But she said nothing else for more than a minute. “I didn’t want any parents in our lives, and Zachary, Sophia’s dad, disagreed with me. When I was pregnant, he’d say, ‘We should tell them about the baby. Sometimes he’d cup his hands around my fat belly and speak as if he were Sophia and say, ‘Tell them, Mommy. Tell them.’ So, yeah, I believe there’s a higher power involved here.” Jojo grew quiet. “Why would God let me be beaten and then fight so hard for Sophia?”

“I can only guess at what happened. Parents are meant to be our first protection, and yours were tempted to be horrible people, and they gave into it. Maybe because of their own childhood. I don’t know. But you’re fighting for good in Sophia’s life, and God has joined you in that fight.”

“Why me?”

“It’s not just you. God is light, and light slips through every cranny and crevice it can.”

“If He’s God, He doesn’t have to wait for a crevice to open.”

“Jojo, we barely understand ourselves.” Rhoda had made her life, and the lives of the people she cared about, so much harder because she didn’t know half of what went on inside her, much less the hows and whys of God’s actions. “We see our world every day, and we’re still stumped by our actions and reactions. How can we possibly grasp God?”

“Yeah. I can see that. I … I need to go.”

Rhoda hung up. As unexpected as it was, she felt as if she’d made some progress, but a few questions pressed in. Should she call Camilla and tell her, or would that just get her hopes up?

She decided against telling Camilla, but she had something she and Camilla could do—study the affects of childhood abuse on adults. If Rhoda understood more, she’d have a better chance of saying the right thing the next time they talked … if there was a next time.

And on the off chance that Jojo accepted her invitation to move in with them, how would Samuel feel about that?

TWENTY-SEVEN

A woman in her midthirties, wearing a white lab coat, stood beside Phoebe, mashing buttons on a machine that dispensed liquid medicine into one of the tubes. Leah could barely keep her eyes open. Everyone in the family had been scurrying in all directions since Phoebe had collapsed more than a week ago.

Steven had everyone pack and leave the farm that morning, including Iva. Since she wasn’t family, she didn’t need to be here for Phoebe or Samuel and Rhoda’s wedding. But Iva was reluctant to stay there by herself, and Steven saw no reason for it. He’d said that by herself she couldn’t get much done except office work—mostly bookkeeping—and she could bring that with her. Besides, she didn’t want to be the only one there when Samuel and Rhoda returned after the wedding to spend a few days alone. So Crist was taking care of the farm and feeding the horses and dogs.

Leah found it hard to believe she was sitting in a different hospital. Everything was similar—super-bright hallways and dimly lit patient rooms; a stale, morning-breath smell lingering in the air; and the same constant interruptions that left everyone feeling exposed and uncomfortable. And the same gnawing anxiety in the pit of her stomach.

“Did you have any other questions or concerns about her medications?” The woman’s tone was almost robotic as she glanced at Steven. He didn’t take his eyes off his wife but watched her every breath. Is that what he’d done the whole way while riding in the medical transport vehicle?

During Leah’s forty minutes in this room with Phoebe, she’d seen four hospital staff members barge in after a warning knock on the door.

“Do you think the move here from Maine set her back any?” Steven had asked this same question to each one who’d entered the room.

“I’m sorry, but only her doctor can make that assessment.” The woman didn’t
sound
sorry.

Steven shifted. “But didn’t you introduce yourself as Dr. Meeks?”

“Yes, I’m a hospital pharmacist.”

“And the man who was in here earlier, who gave the same basic answer as you, didn’t he introduce himself as a doctor?”

“He did. He’s the pulmonary specialist. When he gets the test results back, he’ll have more answers for you. Your primary doctor will be able to answer your questions, probably first thing tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“We each have a job, Mr. Byler. And your wife just arrived here today.” She took notes on a computer that sat on a contraption they’d rolled in. “Any other questions I can answer about her current drug regimen?”

“None. Thank you.” Steven’s shoulders slumped a bit more.

Leah remained silent. Time seemed to pass all too slowly here. Other family members were in a nearby waiting room, because only two visitors were allowed at a time.

Phoebe’s Mamm came to the doorway. “Steven, I think the children need to see you. I’ll stay for a while.” Steven shook his head, but she went to his side. “Geh. You need to eat and rest.”

He clutched Phoebe’s hand, pausing for several long moments before he slowly stood. He motioned for Leah to go with him. She trailed behind him.
What must it be like for Steven to go through this day after day?

He slowed his steps. “I’m sure other people want to visit her too.”

Leah nodded. After a few twists and turns of the hallways, she was almost certain they had gone in a loop because the hallway looked exactly like the one they had just left.

A woman in scrubs spoke from behind a nurse’s station. “Down this hall and to your left.”

Leah looked at her. “The waiting room?”

She nodded, smiling. How many times had Leah and Steven passed this same nurses’ station? Following her instructions, they found the waiting room full of Amish. A quick nod from Steven was all Phoebe’s Daed required to brush past them and head for Phoebe.

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