Chapter Eight
Micah accepted his plate from Susie with as polite a danke as he could manage. He’d been looking forward to sharing a meal with Hope. Now they’d be forced to make awkward conversation with Sylvia and Susie.
And how would he get rid of them after the meal when Sylvia had made her intention obvious? Susie was a nice-enough girl, he was sure, despite being so shy, but Micah had no interest in dating. At least he hadn’t until he met Hope. But Sylvia would probably try to stay until Hope left.
He wished he hadn’t asked her to help in the kitchen tomorrow. He could imagine the comments Sylvia would make. The only good thing was he’d be heading back to New York in a few days, so he could escape.
He’d be glad to put this all behind him—the viewing, the funeral, the designing mother—but it also meant leaving Hope for good.
He glanced up to find everyone had been served, and they were all staring at him. “I’m sorry. I—”
“We understand,” Sylvia said with kindness. “You have a lot on your mind.”
Micah bowed his head for the silent prayer, and they all followed his lead. All except Jabin, who’d retreated into his turtle shell again with closed eyes. Micah sighed inside. He’d also been hoping to keep his nephew awake and talking. But he thanked God for supportive church members, a hot meal, and Hope’s kindness.
The conversation turned out to be as uncomfortable as he’d expected, with Susie ducking her head and remaining mute while her mother rattled on about her daughter’s skills and good points, all of which guaranteed she’d make a fine wife. For someone else.
He might have been impressed by this catalog of virtues if he hadn’t met Hope, who was staring at Susie with an odd expression, one he couldn’t interpret. Several times, Hope tried redirecting the conversation, but Sylvia always jumped in to bring the subject back to Susie.
The dinner cart rattled in the hallway. Everyone had finished supper except Jabin, and Micah used that as an excuse to clear the room.
“Danke fur koomen. The meal was delicious, Susie. Much better than eating fast food.”
Susie’s neck, face, and ears blazed bright red. She mumbled, “You’re welcome.”
“The hospital staff will want to feed Jabin, so—”
Hope jumped to her feet. “We should all go. Danke for the meal.”
Sylvia gathered her things with reluctance, seeming as if she were waiting for Hope to leave. Chloe skipped across the room and slid her hand into Hope’s.
Micah pulled Sylvia’s cell phone from his pocket and held it out. “Will you need this tonight?”
“No, no. My husband insists you keep it for the next few days.”
“I’m grateful to him and you.” When Sylvia’s head tilted slightly to indicate her daughter, Micah added, “And to Susie too.” He also wanted to thank Hope, but he sensed that might make for hard feelings. He’d wait to thank her privately.
As all the women started out the door, Micah called to Chloe, “I want to speak to you a minute.”
She let go of Hope’s hand and dragged her feet crossing the room. With no excuse to stay, Sylvia and Susie left, much to Micah’s relief.
Are they gone? he mouthed to Hope, who was standing in the doorway, waiting for Chloe.
She peeked down the hall. “Almost to the elevator.”
“Whew,” he said. Then he directed his attention to Chloe. “Remember, be a good listener.”
“I know.” Chloe swept her good arm around in the air as if to wave off his concerns.
He turned to Hope. “I really appreciate you taking Chloe. I don’t want to leave Jabin alone all night.” He swallowed hard. “I know how lonely and scary hospital rooms can be at night when you’re his age.”
“Jah, I’d never want to think of him being by himself after all he’s been through. But what about you?”
“I’ll stretch out in the chair and prop up my feet.” He wasn’t sure if he’d be sleeping much tonight. He didn’t like the thought of Jabin waking and thinking he was alone, but his nephew might be in the hospital for a week. He couldn’t go without sleep for that long.
“Are you sure?” A cute little crease formed on Hope’s forehead as she examined him. “You need sleep too. I could stay in the room overnight so you could get a full night’s rest.”
What a generous offer! He could never accept it, though. “I’ll be all right.” He pointed to the wicker carrier. “Danke for making a meal. I’m sorry we didn’t get to eat it. It was kind of you to let Sylvia serve the meal she’d brought.”
“I didn’t want to hurt her feelings,” Hope said.
Her thoughtfulness for others came out in everything she did. “I wish we hadn’t hurt yours.”
* * *
At the gentleness and caring in his tone, Hope’s pulse fluttered. She glanced at Chloe to avoid letting Micah see her reaction. Chloe had her cast propped on the bed rail and was whispering to Jabin.
Luckily, a light tap sounded on the door, and a nurse entered, carrying a tray for Jabin. “Good to see he’s awake.” She pushed the rolling table over to the bed and set down the tray. “And how are you doing, young lady?” she asked Chloe.
Jabin squeezed his eyes shut and pinched his lips together as the nurse adjusted the bed.
“Does that hurt?” Chloe asked him.
He squinted one eye. “Jah.”
“My arm hurts too,” she informed him.
“But you got a cast.” He sounded jealous.
“It’s not as fun as it looks.”
Hope smiled at the two of them, but then Micah sat beside Jabin to pray with him and help him eat. His tenderness and gentleness touched her. What a wonderful father he’d be. The more she was around Micah, the more she found herself drawn to him. No matter how much she tried, she couldn’t stop the feelings that flooded through her as he supported Jabin’s left arm to help him lift the plastic fork to his lips.
“I know it’s not easy to use this hand, but you’re getting better every time,” Micah assured the little boy.
Jabin missed his first stab at his mouth.
“It’s all right. Let’s try again.” Micah moved up his hand to support Jabin’s wrist. The bite went in, and Jabin chewed.
“At least my broken arm is on the left side,” Chloe said.
Micah nodded in her direction. “You should thank God for that blessing.”
Watching Jabin eat was distressing. But the little boy’s sighs and disappointed looks when he spilled food or missed his mouth were offset by his onkel’s patience and encouragement. Because Micah was so engrossed in his task, Hope could stare at him without being noticed. Chloe hung over the bed rail, offering mostly unhelpful comments.
Perhaps for her own benefit, Hope should leave, but she waited until Jabin had finished his meal, then she stood. “Daed will be wondering where I am, so I’d better head off now.”
“You’re taking me?” Chloe screeched and raced over to join her.
“Of course I am.” Hope bent to pick up the wicker carrier and set a hand on Chloe’s shoulder, a difficult task when the little girl was bouncing up and down on her toes.
“Chloe,” Micah said, “calm down or Hope might change her mind.”
Her eyes wide, Chloe looked up at Hope. “You wouldn’t, would you?”
“No,” she assured her. Then she turned her attention to Micah. “I’d be happy to keep Chloe overnight for the next few days. And I can bring her to the hospital for visits.” And to the funeral. Hope didn’t want to remind any of them of that, so she didn’t say it aloud.
“You really wouldn’t mind?” Micah stopped assisting Jabin and studied her face.
This time, she made the mistake of meeting his gaze. Something more than gratitude flickered in his eyes for a second. That flare of interest spelled danger. Hope forced herself to look away. She wanted—no, needed—to keep this businesslike.
Micah must have sensed her attitude because he offered, “I’d be willing to pay you for your help.”
Hope had only volunteered to be neighborly. And because she cared what happened to these motherless children. All right, so maybe it was also because the children’s onkel intrigued her. She quickly squashed that thought. “I couldn’t accept anything for taking care of Chloe.”
“I insist.” The firmness in Micah’s voice made it clear he wouldn’t accept her protests.
She’d save those for when he actually tried to hand her money. As much as extra income would be welcome right now, she’d never take it for helping someone in need.
* * *
Micah was surprised when she didn’t argue. Paying her would ease some of his guilt for all the time she’d spent with him and the children. And it would help to keep her out of his mind in more personal ways.
“I’ll bring Chloe back tomorrow,” Hope said. “And just so you know, the house is spotless. I’m sure some of Anna’s relatives will still come to clean, but—” She broke off at the panicked look in his eyes. “What?”
“Anna’s relatives,” he echoed faintly. “I forgot about inviting them. I don’t know who to call.” His brain seemed to be engulfed in a cloud, and all logical thought had disappeared. He couldn’t even concentrate on normal tasks.
“Why don’t you ask the woman who stopped by earlier—Sylvia? —to put you in touch with Anna’s relatives?”
Micah held up the cell. “Because I have her phone.”
Hope’s cheeks turned a deep, rosy pink, making her even more attractive. “Ach, you must think I’m foolish.”
He laughed, although the sound had a hollow echo that hurt his chest and his heart. “We’re both suffering from lack of sleep. At least I know I’m not thinking straight.”
“That’s understandable.” Hope’s words and sympathetic look soothed like a caress.
Micah jerked his thoughts back from wandering in that direction. He needed to concentrate on funeral plans. “I know Anna’s family. Most of them, that is.”
He’d met them at the wedding, and some of them had dropped by when he’d visited. Right now, though, he could only conjure up vague glimpses of their faces. The names escaped him.
“Why not call one of them? Perhaps Anna’s mamm?”
Carolyn. He remembered her name. That was a blessing. Did shock combined with lack of sleep make you so logy-headed?
“I should have done that immediately after you called last night.” He’d been so focused on Ben and getting to the hospital to care for the twins, Anna’s family had slipped his mind.
“You had a lot to do.”
“That’s no excuse.” Brain fog should not have blocked out his duty to notify Anna’s relatives. The only thing he could do now was to rectify his mistake.
“Are they local?” Hope kept bringing him back to the issue at hand.
Grateful for her prodding, Micah racked his memory. When he’d been here a few weeks ago, Anna had been missing her widowed mamm and two younger sisters, who’d moved to Smicksburg to live with her oldest brother.
“No, they live in Indiana County, a bit north of Pittsburgh.” They’d need to get someone to care for the farm, gardens, and animals. They’d also have a four-hour trip by car. The sooner he called, the better. “I think all Anna’s brothers live around Smicksburg too.”
Hope helped him locate a phone number for Anna’s brother, who owned a meat market. He advertised online and had a phone number on his website. Taking a deep breath, Micah dialed and asked for Levi.
His voice wavered as he conveyed the news, and once again, Hope reached out and squeezed his hand. She let go after he hung up, disappointing him. If he’d been brave enough, he might have flipped over his hand to entwine his fingers with hers.
When he turned in her direction, she lowered her eyes and blushed.
“Danke,” he said softly. “I can’t tell you what that meant to me.” Maybe he shouldn’t have confessed. But her fleeting half smile before she ducked her head made him happy he had.
* * *
Hope had fought an inner battle between consoling Micah and protecting herself, but comforting him won out. His gratitude showed she’d made the right decision. At the time. Unfortunately, now she wished she could keep holding his hand.
“I–I’d better go. I’m sure Chloe’s tired.” And so was Hope. No doubt Micah was too.
“I’m not tired,” Chloe protested, despite her yawns and sleepy eyes.
She let Hope guide her out the door. Before it closed behind them, Hope said, “Why don’t I bring lunch tomorrow? Then you can decide when you want Chloe for—” She glanced at the little girl and couldn’t bring herself to say viewing. How did a child this young deal with that?
Micah’s face turned grim. “I’ve been trying to put that out of my mind, but I haven’t succeeded. We can decide what to do.”
“I’ll stay with Jabin while you’re gone tomorrow night.”
“You’ve done so much already.” Micah appeared overwhelmed, but a shutter descended over his features. “We can work out the payment at the end, unless you prefer that I pay you each day.” He reached for his wallet, but Hope waved it away.
If it allowed him to accept the help he needed, she’d play along. Then, when it was time for him to settle his bill, she’d disappear. Why did the thought of never seeing him again make her so sad?