Читать книгу Lancaster County Reckoning - Kit Wilkinson - Страница 13

FOUR

A coma? Thomas was thankful Jesse had lived. But for Darcy’s sake, and for the sake of Jesse’s continued safety, he sure wished he could ask his old neighbor a few questions. From the look of disappointment on Darcy’s face, Thomas guessed she was thinking the same thing. How were they going to get to the bottom of this without Jesse’s help?

“A coma?” Darcy repeated. “How long will that last?”

“I can’t say,” Blake answered. “But this can happen when recovering from such trauma to the brain. In many cases, the patient is able to eventually make a full recovery.”

“So he will wake up?”

“I can’t make any promises, but we certainly hope so. There’s a very good chance, and many of his indicators look positive. Still, he won’t be out of the woods completely even after waking up. There was a lot of hemorrhaging and we won’t be able to gauge the full extent of the damage until we can communicate with him.” Blake looked at Thomas.

“So...what? What does that mean?” Darcy dropped her arms by her sides, demanding the rest of the news.

“There is always some potential for brain damage. He may end up losing some or all of his cognitive and motor skills, and it’s very possible his memory will be affected.”

“So he won’t remember who he is? He won’t remember me? Or Thomas?”

“Every case is different,” Blake said, trying to console her. But Thomas knew what Blake was really saying was that he had no idea what was going to happen to Jesse. And Thomas could see Darcy’s tiny light of hope extinguishing. He couldn’t imagine how she felt, reconnecting with her father after all of these years only to run the risk of losing him again so soon.

“Doctors have to tell you all of the possibilities,” Thomas said, trying to sound casual. “It doesn’t mean that’s what will happen. God will decide what will happen to Jesse.”

“So you’ve said.” Darcy’s expression soured. “But isn’t there anything you can do medically to help him heal faster or better? To wake him from the coma?”

“Unfortunately no,” Blake said. “His body is already doing what it needs. It’s trying to heal, to live. He’s breathing on his own. We just have to wait now.”

“So he stays here? In this hospital? Can I move him to a hospital in the city? Closer to me?”

“Moving him right now...” Blake shook his head. “Well, that could set on a temporary decline in body function and when he’s already functioning at the lowest level, that would be taking a very unnecessary risk. We should avoid anything that would stress or strain his system more.”

“Can I see him?”

“Of course you can,” he said. “Anytime you like.”

Darcy nodded. “How about now?”

“He’s in the ICU,” Blake said. “Room 11.”

“Thank you, Doctor.” She started toward the door, but turned back to them. “Thomas, may I join you and your friends at Jesse’s later today? I’d like to help clean up.”

“You would be most welcome,” Thomas answered with a nod.

Blake and Thomas watched her move away toward the elevators.

“Why don’t you go home and get some rest?” Blake put a hand on Thomas’s shoulder.

“I was going to say the same to you.” Thomas tried to muster a smile but the heaviness on his heart wouldn’t allow it. “You are working yourself too hard, Blake, but thank you. Thank you for fighting so hard for my friend. I know you are doing all you can to help Jesse.”

“He’s a tough old bird,” Blake said. “But he was beaten up like I’ve rarely seen. And I’ve seen more than a fair share of beatings working in the ER.”

Thomas shut his eyes as he thought of the state they had found the old man in. The pain he must have been in. At least now Jesse could not feel the pain. He could be thankful to God for that.

“It’s good you found him when you did,” Blake continued. “Without blood and other fluids, I don’t think he would have lasted much longer...”

“Then he must live,” said Thomas. “And I pray that he does. Even apart from his value to the community and to me, it would be so sad for his daughter to lose him now, when she only just found him again.”

Blake’s eyes looked intrigued under the shadow of exhaustion. “What do you think of Miss Simmons?”

Darcy Simmons? Heat rose to Thomas’s cheeks as he remembered the feel of her soft hand and the way her long brown waves framed her sweet face. “I—I think she is scared and confused. And...I think she is in a lot of danger.”

* * *

Darcy stayed with Jesse for most of the morning. He looked so small and weak and old, lying there lifeless in the hospital bed, with tubes running in and out of him. The nurses said he was blessed to be alive. But he hardly looked it.

She wished he would wake up. She had so many questions. She no longer believed anything her grandparents had told her as a child about her parents. Was her mother really killed in a car crash? Why had Jesse started a life with the Amish? It was clear from all the photos of the past that Jesse had not been born Amish. Why hadn’t he stayed in the non-Amish world and raised her? Or at least taken her with him?

There had to be reasons for his choices. There had to be something that caused him to choose this path—a path that had not included her in his life. She tried not to let her questions and confusion cause anger toward her grandparents. But it was hard not to feel betrayed by them and all the lies. She’d probably be upset with Jesse, too, except that he looked so helpless lying there all but lifeless in the hospital bed.

Please wake up, Jesse. Please tell me what happened. Tell me who did this to you and what they want.

Darcy hated to leave Jesse but she was determined to get to the cottage and help clean up. Maybe, just maybe, there would be something there that would tell her more about her father—or at least give her a clue as to who was after him. And now her.

Darcy called a close friend and colleague who was kind enough to use a spare key to her town house and deliver a change of clothes and her makeup bag to the hospital. After breakfast, Darcy felt revived with a clean suit, fresh makeup and some food in her belly. She headed out to Willow Trace, driving through the beautiful back roads of Lancaster County. Her friend had asked her lots of questions when dropping off the clothes, which Darcy had answered merely by saying that a close family member was in a coma and she’d be away from work until further notice. Hopefully, that wouldn’t be long. Funny, though, she thought as she passed an Amish man driving a horse-drawn buggy that was moving at a snail’s pace compared to her, how time seemed to move slower here. Even with all that had happened in the past twenty-four hours.

When Darcy drove up in front of the cottage, there were already several Amish buggies parked in front. And there was Thomas. He was seated on the front porch, head down, a large book in his hand.

“Good morning,” she said.

He looked up at her. “Good day, Miss Simmons. You look all cleaned up and fancy.”

Heat rose to Darcy’s cheeks. She looked down at her designer suit. “I guess it’s a little dressy for cleaning.”

“We are just finishing up,” Thomas said. “It is time for lunch.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry. I should have come earlier.” Darcy was truly disappointed. She had really wanted to help. She had wanted to be a part of this. She had wanted to see Jesse’s home and feel closer to him and his friends. The wave of emotions made Darcy shift her weight over her heels. Life had taught her that depending on anyone made her vulnerable to getting hurt. She couldn’t allow herself to get attached to Thomas or the others in this community just because they were being kind. Maybe she should have just stayed at the hospital.

Thomas stood, folding the book closed. A Bible, from the looks of it, which he tucked under his elbow. “Come. There are people who would like to meet you.”

She followed him into the small living space, which was all tidied up. There were two women inside, along with Elijah, Thomas’s friend whom she had met at the hospital, and one other elderly man. All of them were Amish.

The two women were dressed similarly in homespun dresses, dark aprons and thin white caps set over their hair, which was parted straight down the middle, then tucked up and hidden away in a tight nest on the back of the neck. Darcy felt awkward in her stylish pantsuit and heels. But the ladies didn’t seem to pay her or her clothes any mind. They were all smiles, happily humming as they finished their work.

“Miss Simmons, how is Jesse?” Elijah asked as he approached her. “Any change?”

“No,” Darcy said, shaking her head. “Though that’s not necessarily a sign of trouble. Dr. Jamison said he didn’t expect there would be any change today. And he is stable. So that is good.”

“We will hold a prayer gathering for him,” the older of the women said as she turned to her. She was completely gray headed but had the same warm golden-brown eyes as Thomas. “I am Nana Ruth, Thomas’s grandmother. You must be Miss Darcy. I think it is wunderlich that Jesse has a daughter. I just—”

“Nana...” Thomas glared at the old woman.

“Ach, Thomas.” Nana held her nose up defiantly to her grandson, who towered over her by more than a foot.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Nolt.” Darcy offered her hand to Thomas’s grandmother.

“Just call me Nana. Everyone does. And this is Hannah, Elijah’s wife.”

“Nice to meet you,” Darcy said to the other woman, who was close to herself in age. Elijah’s wife had flawless skin, shimmering green eyes and a look of genuine sympathy in her expression.

“They were teenage sweethearts,” Nana explained. “Reunited by—”

“Nana,” Thomas interrupted again, this time whispering something to her in their Germanic language.

Again the old woman dismissed Thomas’s unsolicited guidance with a wave of her hand. “I was just going to invite her to the prayer gathering.”

A change in subject was definitely in order. “Wow. This place looks great,” Darcy interjected. She didn’t want to be rude to the woman who had worked so hard to clean Jesse’s home and who had been so kind to her already, but Darcy did not want to go to a prayer gathering. She didn’t even know how to pray or if she even could. Faith had never been a part of her life. In any case, even if changing the subject had been her goal, the compliment was sincere. The transformation of the cottage was stunning. The home had been completely cleaned and organized. “It’s so warm and homey.”

“Just like the man who lives here.” Nana glared back at her grandson. Darcy had to hold back the urge to laugh at the comical exchange between Thomas and his grandmother.

Darcy looked to the older man who sat nearby. He’d seemed uninterested in the conversation, but now rose and moved toward her.

“This is Bishop Miller. He’s one of the Elders, or leaders, of our Ordnung,” Nana explained. “He’s also Elijah’s father.”

Darcy nodded at the man who was slow to make eye contact with his piercing blue eyes. There were no smiles from this person. No handshake. Yet he did not seem harsh, simply solemn. He looked like a man who carried a lot of weight on his shoulders. He stopped just a few feet from her and stood silent.

“It’s very nice of you all to do this for Jesse,” she said. “So very kind. I’m sorry I wasn’t here to help.”

“You had a long night. You must be exhausted,” said Nana.

“Which is why we’d like for you to join us at lunch at Nolt cottage,” said Hannah.

They didn’t wait for her answer, but swept through the front door as quick as a second. Only Thomas and the bishop stayed. Thomas still held the Bible in his hands. She wondered if he took it everywhere with him. And why did its presence in his hands make her so uncomfortable? She’d seen plenty of Bibles in her life.

“Bishop Miller would like to speak with you, if that’s okay,” Thomas said.

Darcy nodded to him as a wave of dread washed over her.

“Then just follow the bishop to our place,” Thomas said. “It’s not far. About a mile or so.”

She nodded again and tried to swallow down the dry lump that had formed in her throat.

The bishop remained behind as Thomas exited. It was obvious he had something to tell her. Had something changed in Jesse’s condition since she left the hospital? She knew it was unlikely—the hospital had her contact information—but she was too worried to be rational. Her pulse spiked as she feared the worst of news.

“You know something about Jesse?” Darcy asked, trying to be brave.

“About his past, yes,” the old man said. “Just a little. But I will share what I have been told as my son thinks it is important for you and the police to know.”

“The police?” Darcy could feel her heart pounding against her ribs. So this past might have something to do with Jesse’s beating and her phone call? Did he also know why Jesse had abandoned her? Did she even want to know?

Bishop Miller cleared his throat. “When Jesse came here he was a broken man. A man running from many things. He was very scared. But he was also searching—for God and for the forgiveness that can only come from the Lord. And he opened his heart and found peace.”

“Until yesterday?” Darcy asked.

He nodded.

“What was he running from? From the people who beat him? From the law? From...me?”

Darcy tried to swallow again, but her tongue felt glued to the roof of her mouth.

“He was not running from you, child, but from himself. He made many mistakes, Miss Simmons. Although it is not for me to judge.” The bishop remained solemn but his tone was kind. “And please know that Jesse has had to pay dearly for his past decisions through great loss and sacrifice.”

“What sacrifice? Looks to me like he came here and lived a pretty great life...”

“His sacrifice was you. And your mother.”

“My mother? What do you know about my mother?” Darcy fell back into one of the upholstered chairs. None of this made her feel any better. Only more confused and sick inside.

Bishop Miller locked his sea-blue eyes on hers. “From what I was told, it all began when your father helped put a man in prison many years ago—a very bad man. Now that man has been released.”

The phone call. The voice. The man who was coming after her. The man who’d already viciously beaten Jesse. Darcy’s head was spinning. It felt as if all the blood had drained from her body. She tried to breathe and calm herself down, but it was like some invisible force had gripped her chest. “What did this man do? What has this got to do with my mother?”

“This man... He killed your mother.”