Читать книгу The Amish Widow's New Love - Liz Tolsma - Страница 15

Chapter Two

Naomi stroked her son’s hot, damp cheek with one hand and clung to the edge of the truck’s back seat with the other as they raced toward the clinic. Joseph cried weak, pitiful mews, stopping only to catch his breath, which he did far too often. Her throat burned. “Can’t you go faster, Elam?”

“I’m speeding as it is. We’re in town. Not far now.”

The trip had taken much too long. Why did the clinic have to be so far? The dim glow of the streetlights illuminated Joseph’s red face.

Mamm reached over the car seat and patted Naomi’s hand. “Don’t worry so. We’ll be there soon. You just drive careful now, Elam.”

He clung to the steering wheel and peered out the windshield. At least he heeded Mamm’s instructions.

After another eternity, they pulled into the parking lot. Elam rolled to a stop as she grabbed Joseph’s car seat and hopped out, Mamm sliding out the other side.

“I’ll park and be right—”

Naomi slammed the door.

By the time she carried her wailing child inside and registered him at the desk, Elam had joined them. Why had he come? Better for him to stay in that truck. Mamm was here.

The waiting room buzzed with activity. Sick children. Some virus or bug must be going around. Maybe Joseph had picked up his illness from one of the children at the church service two weeks ago. Mamm calmly sat on one of the chairs on the far side of the room. Probably praying.

Elam sat across from her, clasping his straw hat with his big, work-roughened hands. She paced the room and jiggled Joseph on her hip. Elam patted the chair on his left. “Come sit, Naomi. You’re going to wear yourself out.”

“I can’t. What’s taking them so long?”

“Fretting about it won’t make them call you sooner. Now sit. I can hold Joseph if you want a break.”

“Nein, denki.” The harsh words flew from her lips, but she would not give her son to him. Never. “I’m sorry, Elam. I shouldn’t have been short just now. I am thankful for your help tonight.”

She moved the car seat from the chair beside Mamm and sat. Joseph’s little body melded into hers. She kissed his burning cheek.

Elam peered at Joseph. “Does he often get sick?”

“The doctor said if he got a respiratory infection, it could be very bad. He has a hole in his heart, and that is not good for his lungs. I don’t fully understand, and it’s hard to explain. It’s dangerous for him to be sick.” Like always, he managed to get her to open up. To share her heart. She couldn’t allow that. He’d broken it once before. She wouldn’t give him a chance to do it again. She pursed her lips together.

A nurse dressed in bright blue scrubs emerged from the doorway to the side of the desk. “Joseph Miller?”

Naomi gathered Joseph’s diaper bag and stood. She and Mamm followed the nurse into one of the small rooms and sat in the chairs beside the little desk.

Naomi leaned over, willing her hands to stop shaking.

Julie, as the nurse had introduced herself, took Joseph’s history, his blood pressure, his temperature and his pulse, and typed everything into the computer. “So he hasn’t been sick that long?”

“A sniffle or two this morning, but I didn’t think anything of it. I put him in bed before I went out. My mamm was watching him, and she sent for me not too long afterward to tell me he was crying and wouldn’t eat.” She shouldn’t have left him. It was her fault he got so sick. Mamm pulled her into a side hug.

“Any tugging on the ears?”

“Not that I’ve noticed.” Naomi forced the words around the lump in her throat.

Mamm patted her hand.

“Cough?”

“Yes, deep and tight.”

The questions went on. Mamm sat beside her until Julie finished. “The doctor will be in soon. If you need anything, just holler. I’ll be right down the hall.”

As the nurse closed the door, Naomi worried the hem of her sleeve. Mamm rubbed her shoulder. “He’ll be fine. He’s made of sturdy stuff.”

“I’m scared.” Her insides quivered.

“I know. But God is watching out for him.”

“I could lose him.” More tears streamed down her face.

“I know, my daughter, I know. But the doctors will take gut care of him. He will be fine. You’ll see.”

Mamm’s words washed over her, but her stomach still tightened. “Even with Aaron’s accident and Daniel’s fall, I never felt like this. So helpless. So frightened of being alone.” She nestled Joseph against her, the one good thing in her life.

Dear God, don’t take him from me. I can’t stand to lose him.

* * *

Naomi kissed her sleeping son on his cool cheek and pulled up the blanket to his chin, careful not to rock the cradle and wake him. Now, with several doses of antibiotics in him, his breathing was once again normal. Such a scare he’d given her the other day. Denki, Lord, that he’s well.

As well as he could be for a child with a hole in his heart.

He puckered his blue lips and puckered his mouth in his sleep. With one more kiss, Naomi slipped out the bedroom door.

Mamm, a basket of laundry in her hands, met her at the bottom of the steps. “Ready for your first day back at the bakery?”

Naomi’s stomach churned. Other than the singing on Sunday, she hadn’t been away from Joseph since his birth. And look how that had turned out. “I don’t want to leave him. What if he needs me? He did when I went to the singing.”

“Laura and I will be here all day. You’ll be across the street. His getting sick had nothing to do with you leaving him. It’s gut for you to get out of the house, even if only for a few hours of the day. If you don’t, you’ll go stir-crazy in no time. And a happy mamm makes for a happy bobbeli.”

“Still...”

“Off with you. Take your mind from your worries for a while. Go, before I make you iron all of this.”

Naomi tried to smile at Mamm’s joke. Ironing was the worst form of torture. “I’m going, I’m going. Anything to avoid that.” She gave a slight chuckle. “But you get me if Joseph needs me for anything at all. Anything.”

“I will.” Mamm kissed her on the cheek in much the same way she had kissed Joseph. Her tight muscles relaxed a little bit.

Before she knew it, Naomi stood on the threshold of the walkout basement’s back door leading to the downstairs bakery. After drawing in a deep breath, she stepped inside, warmth enveloping her, the yeasty aroma of bread, doughnuts and cinnamon rolls welcoming her.

She hadn’t been here as an employee since Joseph’s birth. The people, the routine, the work had brought her a measure of comfort after Daniel’s death. Perhaps Mamm was right. Maybe being here would keep her from worrying about her son, even if only for a few hours.

Rachel Miller, her sister-in-law and best friend, scurried into the hall. “Naomi, welcome back. How gut it is to see you.” She wrapped her in a hug. “How is Joseph doing?”

“Fine now. But that illness was one of the scariest things that I’ve ever had to experience.” Joseph was her precious only child. His sickness could have been serious, even life-threatening.

“The Lord is gracious. And it is gut to have you beside me again, even if it’s only a few days a week.”

They entered the kitchen, and Naomi stared at the stoves lining the walls, the big sink in the back and the large metal table in the middle where the women did most of their work. Rachel squeezed her shoulder. “Are you okay? You sure you’re up for this?”

She had to be. “Ja, except it’s almost like I’m dreaming. But Mamm says it’s gut for me to get out of the house for a while, and the money will help with the repairs to the dawdi haus so I can move in there. Have a measure of independence.”

“Whatever the reason you came back to work, I’m glad you’re here.”

They set to their tasks, Rachel kneading dough that would become pretzels, and Naomi kneading seven-grain bread. Before long, the rhythm of the work settled her.

“You crazy old man, what are you doing?” A voice carried from the back room.

Naomi turned to Rachel. “Is that Sylvia Herschberger?”

“Sounds like it.”

“Just getting this flour you wanted.”

Naomi chuckled. “Ja, that’s Simon answering her.”

“Let me help you with that.”

Elam? Was that his voice? Her stomach fluttered in her midsection. Which was ridiculous. He had helped them when Joseph got sick, but that was all.

“Watch out.”

Boom. Crash. Bang.

“Simon!” Sylvia screeched.

Naomi wiped her hands on her apron and scurried to the back room. “Ach, Simon, oh no.”

The older man lay on the floor, his right leg jutting out at an odd angle. Elam pulled a ladder off him. Sylvia stood over her husband, wringing her hands. Flour covered all three of them and the floor. Dust floated on the sunlit air.

Naomi hurried to his side. “What can I do? Tell me how to help.”

Elam’s green eyes widened when he saw her. “We’ll need an ambulance.”

Rachel reached Naomi. “I’ll run down the street to call for one.”

Naomi knelt beside the gray-haired man, his hat crushed underneath him. “Simon?”

“Oh, my leg.” He spoke the words through gritted teeth.

“I told you not to climb up there for the flour.” His wife paced the room stacked with large quantities of baking supplies, her black shoes leaving prints on the dusty floor. “Why didn’t you wait for Elam to get here to do it?”

Elam motioned for Sylvia to stop. “That doesn’t matter. Right now, let’s get him comfortable while we wait for the ambulance.”

Sylvia wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “There are pillows and a blanket on our bed upstairs.” She wobbled on her feet.

“I’ll get them. And you look like you need a chair.” Naomi held her by the arm. “Lean against the wall. Will you be okay while I grab a seat for you?”

Sylvia nodded.

Elam placed the ladder against the shelves. “I’ll help you carry everything.”

Naomi opened her mouth to object, but shut it right away. Instead, she followed him up the stairs. “Why are you here?”

“I could ask you the same question.” He opened the door to the family’s living quarters.

“I’m trying to scrape together some money to repair the dawdi haus for myself and my son.”

“And Simon asked me to make a few new picnic tables for the Englisch to sit on when the weather’s nice. The ones they have now are unsteady and falling apart. They’re giving me a chance to prove myself and show people I’m serious about returning. I’m hoping it will lead to a new business venture. How is Joseph, by the way?”

She popped into the Herschbergers’ bedroom and pulled a couple of pillows and a red-and-blue wedding-ring quilt from the bed before returning to the kitchen, where Elam grabbed a chair. “Fine. And once more, denki for what you did for us when he got sick.”

“I’m happy I was at the singing to give you a ride.” His smile was tight, like he forced it.

They descended the stairs and returned to the Herschbergers. Naomi knelt beside Simon. “Here you are.” She lifted him enough to slide two pillows under his head, and then covered him with the quilt. Elam helped Sylvia into the chair.

Simon grasped the coverlet, his knuckles turning white. “Guess I’m going to have to go to the hospital.”

Naomi took care not to hurt him when she straightened the quilt over his twisted knee. “You’ve broken your leg. And done a good job of it. Let’s hope that’s all.”

“How long do you think I will be out of commission?” Simon groaned.

“Only a doctor can answer that.” What was taking that ambulance so long?

A furrow appeared on Simon’s brow. “But the auction is coming up.”

All the air rushed from Naomi’s lungs. That auction was to raise money for medical needs in the district. Like for Joseph’s surgery. And Aaron’s ongoing expenses. Simon did most of the organizing. How would they pay for anything without the funds the event raised?

Elam peered out the door. “I hear the siren. The ambulance must be just down the road. You hang on.”

Simon winced as he nodded. “And you and Naomi will take over coordinating the auction.”

“You want us to do it?” Elam spun around to face inside.

“You’ll do a fine job. I won’t have to worry with the two of you in charge.”

Elam hawed for a moment. “I’m not sure.”

“Make an old man happy. Let me rest well.”

Simon couldn’t be serious. “Nein, we can’t.” They couldn’t.

“She’s right. It would be too—”

“Nonsense. You can make it work.”

Elam shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Fine, we’ll do it.”

A bolt of lightning couldn’t have shocked her more. “We will?”