18

Marie

The young Mennonite man stood next to us on the bus, tapping my shoulder, holding up his cell phone. “It’s for you.”

As I thanked him, I took it and handed it to Aenti Suz.

I listened closely as Aenti Suz held the phone to her ear, trying to figure out who was on the other end of the call. It was Gordon. My heart raced. While I was dragging my feet returning home, he was most likely at the hospital, supporting Silas.

My thoughts went to Sophia and her tragic death. Annie had lost her sister, unable to do anything to save her. My palms grew sweaty and my heart began to race.

“I see,” Aenti Suz said, her face pale.

There was more talking on the other end of the call. Then Aenti Suz said, “Thank you so much for letting us know.”

I expected her to hang up, but Gordon said something more. Aenti Suz responded with, “We have our coats on our laps—and our boots on our feet. We’ll take a taxi to the hospital as soon as we arrive.”

I guessed the weather was even worse than when we left.

Aenti Suz handed the phone back to the young man. “Thank you. You’ve helped us rest easier.”

I exhaled. The news couldn’t be all bad.

As the man walked away, Aenti Suz told me, “Jessica’s out of surgery. She needed several transfusions. Of course, the fallopian tube was already damaged beyond repair and there’s a lot of scarring.”

My eyes widened at the thought of Gordon relaying that news to Aenti Suz. “He told you all of that?”

She raised her eyebrows. “You know, the issue here is Jessica’s well-being—her very life. Not what offends you.” She shuddered a little. “Do you ever think of others before yourself?”

Before I could stammer out an answer, she leaned her head against the seat, closed her eyes, and pulled her coat up to her chin.

I stared straight ahead, dumbfounded. She’d never been cross with me before. Well, she had been firm, just that morning.

Did I ever think of others before myself? I told myself that writing Jessica the letter when she left the Amish was for her own good, but honestly I did it because it was required of me to keep in the good favor of Bishop Jacobs. And when Leisel left, because she hadn’t joined the church, I didn’t write her at all. Not even to tell her that I loved her and missed her, even though I did.

I did care about Elijah, didn’t I? I took out my embroidery. I was sure I could be a good wife to him, whether he ended up enjoying being a farmer or not. I knew I’d think of him before myself—hadn’t I in Pinecraft? He didn’t like music so I’d spent time playing volleyball and watching him play basketball when I could have been singing instead.

I wouldn’t resent him for that because I believed he’d grow into a good man like his father. Strong. Wise. A leader. I knew Elijah could be all of those things too.

My palms still felt clammy. Was I coming down with the flu? I took a sip from my water bottle, wiped my hands on my apron, and then resumed my embroidery. Why did I feel so unsettled?

Deciding whom to marry was a big decision that would determine the course of my entire life.

My thoughts fell to Annie and Samuel. Annie had unselfishly helped others. I couldn’t imagine ever doing such a thing. Traipsing off to care for wounded soldiers at the scene of such a horrible battle.

Leisel had nursed our Dat when he was dying, caring for him day after day. Sleeping on the floor by his bed. Giving him his medicine, feeding him what she could get him to swallow, making sure he was comfortable. Honestly, I couldn’t have done that either.

Jessica was always quick to serve others too. She’d been like a daughter to Mildred Stoltz, caring for her as she fought cancer. And she was tender with animals too, and with the land.

Caring didn’t come naturally to me, but my own selfish desires did. I cringed again at my gut reaction that morning. It was all about what I was going to miss, not about Jessica or that she’d lost a baby or that her life was literally in danger. Tears filled my eyes, and I put my embroidery away. Was it too late for me to change?

I looked beyond Aenti Suz and out the window into the pitch dark. I put on my coat, zipped it, wrapped my scarf around my neck, and pulled my hood over my Kapp, ready to reach Lancaster in a few hours. Then I put my head back against the seat, determined to get what sleep I could.

I awoke to a scream from a woman a few seats ahead of us. Then the awareness that the bus seemed to be sliding. The snowy world outside the window began to tilt, and a bank of snow came straight toward the window.

Aenti Suz had just opened her eyes, and I grabbed her around the shoulders and pulled her toward me, covering her body with mine, yanking her down into my lap, my head facing the window. Time slowed as the bus spun around.

The screech of metal and the shatter of glass jarred me, but I held on tight to my aunt, even as cold air rushed through the broken window and my body was flung forward, pulling Aenti Suz with me. But as the bus collided with the snow bank, the force yanked Aenti Suz out of my arms. Time sped back up as I scrambled to reclaim her. But the bus came to a crashing stop, and her head slammed against the jagged frame of the window.

“Aenti!” I yelled, grabbing at her, pulling her body back toward me. There were more screams, and then someone calling out, “Are you all right?”

Someone else shouted, “Call 9-1-1!”

Then the bus lurched again and then righted, with a bounce. The snow bank had kept it from rolling.

I wrapped my arm around Aenti Suz again, feeling the sticky blood immediately. “You’re bleeding.”

She reached up to the side of her head and turned toward the broken glass and twisted metal. I unbuckled and unwrapped my scarf from my neck. Kneeling on the seat, I pressed my scarf against the side of her head where the blood was soaking through her Kapp.

“You know head wounds,” she said. “They bleed like crazy. It’s probably nothing.”

I knew it wasn’t “nothing.” I just hoped it wasn’t as bad as it seemed.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

“Jah,” I answered. “I’m fine.”

She pointed to the blood on my hands.

I was bleeding too, cut by the glass when I still had hold of Aenti Suz, but they were just nicks.

The bus driver, clearly shaken, walked down the aisle and checked on all of us. I told him Aenti Suz was injured, and we needed an ambulance.

“Oh, I don’t think I—” Aenti started to say.

“Jah, she does,” I said, firmly. “She’s bleeding.”

He nodded. “It’s better to be safe than sorry.”

Several people were bruised. A couple of passengers had fallen to the floor, but most had been wearing their seatbelts. Both Aenti Suz and I felt tender where our belts crossed our laps, and I imagined others were too.

A few people on our side of the bus who were sitting nearest the windows were also bleeding. And an elderly man seemed badly injured. It appeared he’d hit his head rather hard and was confused and dizzy, possibly suffering a brain injury. Aenti Suz squeezed my hand. I was sure she was praying for him. I joined in, and then prayed for her too. A Good Samaritan stopped and brought a blanket onto the bus. A man quickly took it and put it over the elderly man. The bus was freezing now from the broken windows and the lack of heat, and I zipped Aenti Suz’s coat up to her chin.

Soon a police officer arrived. I continued to apply pressure to Aenti Suz’s head, but the blood had soaked through my scarf. I repositioned it with my bloody hand. A person across the aisle asked if anyone had a towel. From the back of the bus, obviously from a family with children, came a baby towel. I hated to ruin it, but the terrycloth did absorb the blood better.

It seemed to take forever, but finally the ambulances arrived—four of them—as the gray light of dawn filled the bus. All of the passengers who were able to disembark did, but I was told to stay on, of course, and continue to apply pressure to Aenti Suz’s wound. The EMTs came on and took the man with the possible head injury off first. Next they checked on Aenti Suz. She convinced them she could walk off, holding the towel against her head. I wiped my hands as best I could on the part of my scarf that wasn’t already covered with blood, and then followed with our purses.

The bus driver assured me that our suitcases would be transported to their office in Lancaster. Then he gave me a card with their phone number. The EMTs helped Aenti Suz into the ambulance, and I climbed in after her. We were headed to Lancaster General—where Jessica was.

Once we reached the emergency department, after I washed my hands, I dialed Gordon’s cell phone from the nurse’s station. He didn’t pick up, so I left a message, telling him what happened and that I’d try to get up to see Jessica once I knew Aenti Suz was all right. The nurse put a compress bandage on Aenti Suz, and then the doctor did a neurological check. The two discussed whether they needed to do a CT scan, with Aenti Suz saying that wasn’t necessary. The doctor said that because it had been over an hour since the accident and because she wasn’t exhibiting any signs of a concussion or brain injury, that she didn’t need one. She did need stitches, however, which we both already knew.

The doctor said he’d be back in a few minutes, just as a nurse poked her head around the curtain and told me there was a young man out in the hall, hoping to see me.

It had to be Gordon or Silas.

I told Aenti Suz I’d be right back and followed the nurse.

Gordon stood with his winter coat on, holding his hat.

“How is Jessica?” I asked before either could speak.

“A little better,” Gordon said. “She’s out of recovery and in a room.” Gordon’s face was pale and his eyes grew huge. “I got your message, but what exactly happened?”

I explained again about the bus wreck. “Aenti Suz has a gash on the side of her head and needs stitches.”

“What about you?” Gordon’s expression was full of concern, and he pointed toward me.

I looked down at my open coat. Blood covered my apron. I quickly zipped my coat. “It’s from Aenti Suz.”

“What about your hands?”

I glanced at them. I thought they’d stopped bleeding by the time I washed up, but there was fresh blood coming from the cuts. “I just need some bandages,” I said. “It’s nothing.”

I nodded back toward the emergency department. “I’ll go sit with Aenti Suz until she gets her stitches. I’ll need to get her home, but maybe we can stop and see Jessica—and Silas—first.”

His eyes were full of concern. “Silas has the flu—respiratory with a fever, aches and pains, cough, and sore throat. He can’t be around Jessica.”

My stomach fell.

Gordon continued. “I’ll take Suzanne home as soon as she’s ready to go.”

“Denki,” I said.

“And you too.”

“What about Jessica? Is Mamm with her?”

Gordon shook his head.

“Maybe you could take Aenti Suz home and Mamm can tend to her while I stay here with Jessica.” I glanced down at my coat, imagining my bloody apron. I could take it off, but the blood had probably soaked through to my dress.

“Do you have your suitcase?”

I shook my head. “The bus was going to be towed to the company warehouse.” I pulled the card from my pocket.

“I’ll go get it,” he said. “Why don’t you write a note giving me permission? I’ll get both yours and Suzanne’s.”

I pulled a pen from my purse and wrote on the back of the card. “They have identification tags on them, so they should be easy for you to find.”

He nodded. “I’ll come straight back here.” Then he gave me Jessica’s room number and told me to call her and let her know what had happened.

I called from the nurse’s desk so Aenti Suz didn’t have to listen to me describe what happened again. When Jessica answered, her voice was so weak I could hardly hear her.

“It’s me,” I said.

“Marie?”

I began to shake as I spoke and then, to my embarrassment, I began to cry. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” she said. “Sad but fine. Where are you?”

Ashamed that I was crying when she was the one who just lost a baby, I told her about the bus wreck. “I tried to protect Aenti Suz, but she still got a gash on her head. A bad one.”

“No wonder you’re so upset,” Jessica said. “Thank the Lord that Aenti Suz isn’t any worse and that you’re okay.”

I told her I’d be up as soon as I could.

“You should go home with Aenti Suz,” she said.

“No,” I answered. “Gordon will take her home to Mamm. I’ll stay with you.”

Jessica didn’t protest again. Instead she said, “It will be good to see you.”

I returned to my aunt’s room, asking the nurse if I could clean up my hands. After I washed them, she put bandages on the cuts. Then I held Aenti Suz’s hand while the nurse shaved the side of her head.

As the doctor started to stitch, even though I was on the other side and couldn’t see, I began to feel queasy. Partly from the movement of the doctor. Partly from the smell of the disinfectant.

As if sensing my discomfort, Aenti Suz said, “You don’t have to stay.”

“I’m fine.” Silently I recited the Lord’s Prayer, determined to stay strong. I thought of Annie and wished I were as brave as she had been. Finally, I asked Aenti Suz what her favorite thing about Pinecraft had been. “The community,” she answered. “Wasn’t it wonderful to get to know so many people from so many different Amish and Mennonite groups?”

I agreed.

“What about you?” she asked.

“How relaxed I felt,” I answered. But I wasn’t being entirely truthful. Along with hearing Annie’s story, in retrospect, my favorite thing had been singing with Paula and Gordon in the park. Well, it wasn’t even that, exactly. It was what I’d experienced during it—that I’d truly worshipped God. Then, as a result, I felt compelled to volunteer at the homeless shelter.

As I held my aunt’s hand, I wondered if worshipping God could give me strength to do other things too.