The Saddle Maker's Son (13 page)

The doctors weren't saying much. Tobias fought the urge to pound his fist against the waiting room wall. An hour they'd been waiting and still nothing. He rubbed his fingers over his fisted hand and forced himself to relax it. The kinner were watching. They would take his lead. They'd lost so much already. They needed Daed. He needed Daed. He swallowed the pain in his throat and forced a breath. Whatever came, Martha, Micah, Rueben, David, Milo, Nyla, Ida, and Liam would look to him for how to handle it. His job was to rely on Gott in all things.

Mordecai strode into the room, his face etched with concern. He eased into the chair next to Tobias. “Any word from the doctors?”

“Nee.”

“Waiting is hard.”

“It is.”

“I understand, having lived through something similar.”

“I've heard bits and pieces of it.”

Mordecai shoved his hat back and leaned his head against the wall behind them. “The van accident that took my fraa's life and
left Phineas hanging by a thread. The younger kinner had scrapes and little wounds, but nothing so bad I couldn't take them home at the end of the day. We weren't in this hospital. We were down in Corpus, but they're all the same. They smell the same. They sound the same.”

Tobias knew those sounds, the ticking of the clock, the wheels of the gurneys clacking down tiled hallways, the beep of monitors. He knew the smells. The acrid smell of cleansers. The smell of sickness. The smell of despair. They were branded on his memory. He needed only to close his eyes to be reminded of the sights. Daed leaning over Mudder's still form, his hand on her limp body. His eyes red with tears. “When Mudder died we spent a few hours in the hospital up north, but she was gone so sudden it wasn't much.”

“I waited hours while they worked on Phineas, trying to keep him alive.” Mordecai's voice roughened. His Adam's apple bobbed. “I know how it feels.”

“Daed is fine. He'll be fine.”

“Gott's will be done.”

The heat of a painful flush scurried across Tobias's face and neck. He hadn't thought to pray in the moments between the horse's reaction to the saddle and the arrival of the ambulance, paramedics putting a brace around Daed's neck and strapping him to a board, the long trip into town while they poked and prodded his daed, hooking him up to IVs, checking his vital signs, assessing his injuries in words Tobias couldn't begin to understand. All he knew for sure was that Daed never opened his eyes. He never moved a limb of his own accord. Tobias bowed his head and tried to summon the words.
Help. Don't take him. I need him.
The words were sparse and selfish, but they were the
only words that came
. Forgive me. I was right there, yet I couldn't protect him. The kinner need him. I can't take care of them without him. Please.

“I'm so sorry.”

He opened his eyes and raised his head. Bobbie stood before them. Her face was tearstained and her hands and knees were dirty. He shook his head. “It's not your fault.”

He'd been right there and yet couldn't save his own father. If it was anyone's fault, it was his.

“I feel responsible. He's my horse.”

“My father trains horses for a living. He's broken hundreds of them. He knows the risk and accepts it.” Words he should be saying to himself. “It's no one's fault.”

“I can't understand why Cracker Jack reacted that way. He's a good horse.”

“Like you said, something in his past. Something his old owner did. Who knows? But it's not your fault. My dad wouldn't want you stewing about it.”

“You're nice to say that.” She plopped down in the chair next to Tobias and squeezed his hand. Tobias could feel Mordecai's tension next to him. The older man's entire body stiffened. “If you need anything at all, you let me know. My father can get the best doctors, the best surgeons. He'll pay. Don't you worry. This is workers' comp. It was an on-the-job injury.”

Plain folks didn't have insurance, but they took care of their own. “That's nice of you, but not necessary.”

Bobbie tucked a piece of pink paper in his hand and folded his fingers around it. Her fingers were warm and damp. “My phone number if you need me.”

Mordecai cleared his throat, his expression stern.

A flurry of activity at the door cut him off, to Tobias's relief. Susan, Rebekah, and Martha trotted into the room in quick succession, their faces etched with worry. Jeremiah followed, along with Will and Simon. Word spread quickly in the small community. Everyone would gather. Prayers would be offered. Rebekah put an arm around Martha and whispered something in her ear. Susan picked up Liam and marched toward them, her face red with heat and exertion. Rebekah followed, her arm still around Martha.

He had no one who could offer him that comfort. He closed his eyes and opened them. The women stood in front of him. “How is he? Where is he?” Susan beat Martha to the questions by a hairsbreadth from the look on his schweschder's face. “What do the doctors say?”

“We don't know much.” Tobias searched for words. They seemed mired in emotion he didn't want to reveal. “The doctor is looking at him now.”

Rebekah moved forward. She opened her mouth, then glanced at Bobbie.

Tobias stood. “This is Bobbie McGregor. She's a customer.”

“Levi was breaking my horse when he got hurt.” Bobbie's voice quavered. She pulled herself up from the chair. “I'll let y'all talk. I know this is a family thing. Especially with y'all.”

Her head bent, she brushed past Rebekah, who swiveled and watched her disappear through the door before turning back to Tobias. “Is she all right?”

“Feeling bad about what happened, I reckon that's all.”

“You sound . . . parched. Can I get you some water?”

“I'm fine.”

“Y'all best have a seat.” Mordecai's voice held a warning tone
that seemed to be directed at Susan. “It'll be a while, I reckon. Spend the time in prayer.”

Susan's face flushed a darker red. She turned away with Liam still in her arms. “I'll take care of the little ones.”

“I'll help her.” Martha, her face a startling white in comparison, followed Susan. She looked as if she were sleepwalking. “I'll pray.”

She needed comfort. He should be the one to give it. He started after her, but his legs felt heavy. His boots stumbled on the thick carpet.

“No sense in getting worked up. Gott will hear our prayers.”

Mordecai's voice pulled him back into his chair. Prayer. That was the most important thing right now.

Mordecai closed his eyes, pulled his hat down over his face, and leaned his head against the wall, the picture of a man who left everything in God's hands.

Rebekah plopped into the chair next to Tobias, her fresh, clean scent welcome after the stench of hospital. “We prayed all the way over here. Gott is good. You don't need to worry about a thing. We'll help. School's out now and Susan wants to do the cooking. I can help the girls with the garden. Caleb will help. All of us.”

“We appreciate that. My daed will rest easy knowing everyone is pitching in.”

“Gott provides.”

“He does.” The words stuck in his throat. Why did Gott let this happen? It was the same question he'd asked when Mudder passed in the midst of the life-affirming act of giving birth. It made no sense to him. What if Gott's will was to take his father and leave him in charge of eight kinner? What kind of Gott did that? “I'm just . . .” His throat tightened. “Maybe I do need that water.”

She popped up. “I'll get it.”

His head filled with the sickening sound of hoof crunching bone. Rebekah's hand touched his sleeve. “Maybe you should walk with me. You look like you need air.”

He glanced at Mordecai. The older man nodded. “It'll do you good to stretch your legs.” His gaze went to Rebekah. “Fresh air does a body good as well.”

Tobias stood. His legs felt weak. He lurched. Rebekah's hand came out again. “You have blood on your sleeve. We'll have to wash that soon.”

We.
The image of Rebekah sorting laundry and tossing shirts into the wringer wash machine filled his mind's eye. The thought, as far-fetched as it might be at this moment, comforted him. “Jah. Martha will fix it.”

“Come on. I saw the water fountain as I came in.” She cocked her head toward the hallway. “We'll come right back.”

He might not want to come back to bad news. He could stay away. He wouldn't be alone. He'd be with Rebekah Lantz.

A person might think
he'd
been conked in the head by a horse, not Daed.

Susan forced herself to settle into the last chair. The one farthest from Mordecai. Her brother read too much in her face. He always had. He didn't need to know how she felt about Levi. She didn't even know how she felt. Only that the idea that he was badly hurt brought a strange terror that caused her heart to pummel her rib cage and her eyesight to dim. Both were terrifying symptoms of something she couldn't begin to explain.

“You look like you're feeling poorly.”

Martha squeezed into the chair next to her and pulled Liam into her lap. The boy curled around her and leaned his head on her shoulder as if he'd been there a million times before and knew exactly where his small head would find the most comfortable spot. Martha was the closest he'd ever had to a mother. It hurt Susan's heart to think that, but yet, Gott had provided. He'd provided Liam with the closest substitute for a mother. The boy had a loving older sister who thought nothing of giving up her own happiness for that of a little brother.

“I'm fine. You will make a good fraa and mudder one day.” Levi would want her to finish this conversation. No matter how this day turned out. He'd entrusted Susan with this one task. “You have a knack for it.”

“My bruders and schweschders need me.” Martha's tone said now more than ever. Her voice cracked. “No matter what happens, they'll need me. One way or another.”

“The day will come when they won't. They'll have their own lives.”

“That seems a selfish way of looking at it.” Martha smoothed Liam's ruffled blond hair. He burrowed closer and closed his eyes. “Until that time comes, it's my job to take care of them.”

“I just know it to be true. My mudder went first too.” Susan let her gaze travel to Mordecai. He leaned his head against the wall, his eyes closed. Whether he dozed or prayed, she couldn't say. He had their mother's dark curls and their father's blue eyes. “She had cancer. Since I was the oldest girl, I took over the cooking, cleaning, canning, sewing, and gardening. There were only four of us kinner. Eventually my sister, Lilly, married and moved back to Tennessee. Our brother Thomas is up north in Missouri.
A few years after he moved, Daed died of a heart attack. Only Mordecai was left. He married and started his own family. I thought I would do the same.”

“But you didn't.”

“Nee. I had a special friend. For a time.”

“What happened?”

“I kept putting him off because I was busy taking care of my family. I figured he'd wait.”

“But he didn't?”

“Nee. He married a woman named Sadie. They live in Missouri now.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Gott's will. Gott's plan. Besides, it was a long time ago.” She paused, remembering those days when she'd still had certainty and the nights when she'd admitted her fear and dwindling hope in long-winded prayers. “And then Mordecai's first fraa was killed in an accident and Phineas hurt so badly. They needed me. Again. Between teaching and taking care of my bruder's family, my life was full. More than full.”

“But not anymore, now that he has married again.”

“Exactly. I love teaching, though. It isn't a consolation prize. It's a calling. Teachers help prepare young folks to live Plain lives.” She didn't mean to be bigheaded. Parents did the same. Everyone in the Plain community worked toward that same aim. “I remind myself of that every morning. I pray about it every night.”

“But it's not like having your own kinner.”

“Nee.” A familiar tightening in her chest forced Susan to fumble in her canvas bag for a tissue. “I never will regret the years I've spent teaching. We should pray now for your daed.”

Martha nodded, her eyes wide and wet with tears, her face white. “Jah, we should.”

Susan closed her eyes. The same strange sensation that haunted her sleep at night, like the sensation of a baby's soft skin brushing against her cheek, caused her to catch her breath. The longing could be kept at bay most of the time. Occasionally, though, it caught her unaware and her entire body ached, filled with the enormous absence of her own flesh and blood held in arms meant to rock a child, hands meant to soothe a feverish forehead, lips meant to kiss a boo-boo on a tiny finger. “A woman has to embrace the blessing of whatever life Gott chooses for her,” she whispered without opening her eyes. “We can never know better than Gott what is best for us.”