In the few minutes that I’d been in Daniel and Ethel’s house, the snow had started to come down with gusto. It was a good thing I was headed back to Mammi’s. It appeared the storm might turn into a full-fledged blizzard before long.
When Ryan and I became engaged, I had this idea that we would be the perfect couple, have perfect kids, and be perfect parents. I knew my parents loved me beyond reason, but they were young when I was born.
Now I knew there would have been nothing “perfect” about Ryan and me as a couple or as parents. When I’d told Deputy Rogers there was no such thing as a fully functional family, I meant it.
Tommy’s family seemed close-knit, but I could see all sorts of fissures in it too. As good as a mother as Wanda was, I’m sure Tommy, like most Amish kids, was never encouraged to show his emotions. And then the family went through financial difficulties, enough so that they lost their farm before their father died. Perhaps Tommy left because he didn’t feel as if there was a place for him to stay.
In the end, I guessed the most parents could do was hope their best would be adequate—and then somehow make up for what they didn’t know by admitting it as soon as they realized it, even if their children were grown. Surely it was never too late to learn and grow and become more functional.
But what did I know? I wasn’t a parent. And I wouldn’t be, at least not anytime soon.
I merged onto the interstate. The snow was blowing straight at my windshield now, in a mesmerizing, hypnotic pattern. I blinked my bleary eyes, deciding I’d stop and get another coffee.
When Mom died, Dad wouldn’t—or couldn’t—say how he felt. I could see that he was hurting, but he wouldn’t talk about it. So I didn’t feel I could talk about how I felt either. I didn’t want to make it worse for him than it already was. After I shut down Mom’s business, I didn’t have a job and had no real marketable skills, so I took a job in town at a café, first as a dishwasher and then as a waitress. Several of the other girls worked at the café during the summer but went to college the rest of the year, one at UCLA. Another two, who worked all year round at the café, took classes at the local community college. One was studying business. Another nursing. I began asking questions about things that hadn’t been included in my home-school education. What did I need to do to apply to college? What should I consider as far as deciding on a major? What scholarships were available?
By then, it was pretty clear that Dad and Joy would soon marry, and I wanted to have an escape plan. I signed up for classes at the local community college and met with an academic counselor. After one year of classes, I transferred to UCLA and settled on a health administration major. And I never returned home for more than a night or two at a time, now and then.
I was so sure I was doing the right thing. And at the time, I probably was. But leaving so abruptly left a hole in my heart.
Miriam might think she could escape her new family and make her own way, but she still needed her remaining parent. She still needed her mother’s wisdom and care.
The lights of a semi in my rearview mirror grew brighter. I tapped on my brakes a couple of times. Did he see me? I sped up a little, but visibility was bad, and I didn’t feel comfortable going any faster than fifty.
The truck slowed, and the distance between us increased.
But a minute later, the truck was too close again. And growing even closer. Another semi was beside me on the left, so I couldn’t change lanes. I was as close as I felt comfortable to the car in front of me, a large sedan that was going forty-five. As the semi came even closer, I put my hazard lights on, trying to get the truck driver’s attention. I glanced in my rearview mirror one last time—just as the semi plowed into the back of my SUV.
THE NEXT HOURS were a blur. A kind soul held my hand through the broken window until the firefighters arrived and pulled me from the wreckage. No one had to tell me the SUV had saved my life.
I had bloody cuts on my forehead and hands. Something was wrong with my left ankle. My chest, arms, and knees all ached from the deployed airbags. But as the ambulance took off for the hospital, I knew how fortunate I’d been. It could have been so much worse.
They took me to the Porter Regional Hospital emergency room. At some point, a nurse asked me about my insurance, and I asked her to get the card out of my purse. The next time she came by, she said she’d contacted my emergency number but wanted to know if I needed to contact anyone else.
“My uncle,” I said. “His number is in my phone.” Which, thankfully, had survived the crash. I left a message for Uncle Seth, giving him the short version of what had happened, and asked him to go talk with Mammi.
“What did my dad say?” I asked the nurse when I finished the call.
“Your dad?”
“My emergency contact.”
“Hmm.” She glanced at the computer screen. “Is Ryan Woodward your father?”
I groaned. “That’s my ex. I forgot he was listed as my emergency contact.” I grabbed my phone again and quickly sent him a text. The hospital calling you was a mistake. Ignore it. I’m fine. He didn’t reply right away, but maybe he was busy.
Then I decided to let the nurse call Dad, since I was afraid I might start crying and alarm him. I didn’t want that. She went to the nursing station to make the call, while I put my phone in my purse and tried to psyche myself up for stitches, X-rays, and a CT scan, because I had a huge goose egg on my head from the airbag and steering wheel, plus the symptoms of a concussion. They wanted to make sure I didn’t have any other head injuries.
They stitched up a gash on my hairline and one on my wrist and hand from the broken glass. My coat had done a good job protecting the rest of my body. After that, they rolled me off to radiology, taking X-rays of my ribs and ankle. From there, they moved me to a room. When I checked my phone, it was blowing up with calls from Dad and texts from Joy. Both asked me to call them back ASAP. I wished Dad would come, but I couldn’t expect that. He’d never flown in his life, and he hadn’t been back to Indiana in the thirty years since he’d left. I couldn’t expect him to come back for me.
A text from Ryan popped up before I could stash my phone again. I’m on my way. I groaned again. That was the last thing I needed. I texted him back immediately but didn’t get a reply. Surely he hadn’t purchased a ticket without speaking with me. Surely he wasn’t literally “on his way.”
I retrieved the card the police officer had slipped into my purse and called to get details about the driver of the semi, so I could let the rental company know. After a couple of rounds of phone tag, the officer called me back.
He had the information that I needed and also added that the truck driver had a few minor injuries, as did the driver in the sedan in front of me, which I’d plowed into, but both were going to be okay. He said I’d need to fill out an accident report as soon as possible and, of course, report it to the rental car company too. I was thankful to have had the foresight to buy the additional insurance.
A doctor came in and told me I had two cracked ribs and a fractured fibula. “It’ll take about six weeks for it to heal,” she said. “We’ll splint it in the morning and then you’ll need to get fitted for a boot.”
“What about the CT scan?”
“It hasn’t been read yet.” She lifted her eyes from my chart and met my gaze. “We’ll know by the morning. In the meantime, stay off your phone and no TV.”
After she left, I finally gave in to the pain meds and the low lights and fell asleep.
The next morning, after a restless drug-induced and dream-filled sleep, I literally felt as if I’d been hit by a truck. The nurse gave me more pain meds around six in the morning, and I dozed again, waking on and off. Ryan hadn’t shown up, and I didn’t have a text from him. I figured he probably wasn’t coming after all.
But then, just after the nurse brought in my lunch tray, he appeared, sporting dark bags under his gray eyes. He had a backpack slung over one shoulder, and he wore his Patagonia jacket. He took off the hood, revealing his dark hair, which was the messiest I’d ever seen it.
“Hi.” He stepped to the edge of my bed.
“You didn’t need to come.”
“I wanted to,” he said. “Sorry it took so long. I got stuck in Denver—fog and then mechanical problems.”
“You must be exhausted.”
He nodded, not quite looking at me. “How are you?”
“All right. But I’m sorry you came all this way. You really didn’t need to. I forgot to update my emergency contact person after . . . well . . .” I swallowed hard. “I didn’t give it a thought until the nurse said she’d called you.”
“I was really glad she did. I’m so sorry you were in an accident.”
It felt both so normal and so awkward to have him show up. “I’m going to be fine, though. I’m afraid you wasted the trip.” Not to mention the money that could go toward the wedding bills.
“I had some frequent flier miles.” He lowered his backpack to the floor and pulled up a chair. Then he finally met my eyes. “And I needed to apologize to you. What I did was absolutely horrid. I . . . I lost my mind for a few days.”
Tears stung my eyes.
“I’ve felt so out of sorts. Clearly I have some stuff I need to figure out.”
“With you and Amber?”
He looked as if he was going to cry as he shook his head. “Amber hung around for a week, but then it hit me what I did to you, what a fool I was.” His voice grew quieter. “Then I got the call about the accident and your text telling me not to come, that it was a mistake. I ignored it because I wanted to apologize in person and realized I might not have another chance if you . . . if you don’t come back to California.”
I stared at the blank TV in the corner and concentrated on not bawling.
“I didn’t come to win you back. Obviously, I had second thoughts about getting married, ones I should have talked with you about months ago. I just . . . I hope you can forgive me.”
I gave a small nod, not trusting myself to form any words.
“And I wanted to let you know that I got the credit card disaster figured out. While I was stuck in Denver, I called all of the vendors and had them credit your card and charge my new one. It should be all straightened out. If not, let me know.”
“Thanks,” I whispered.
He exhaled. This was a hard conversation for him to initiate, but I really appreciated his honesty. “Do you have a ride back to Nappanee?”
“Yes.” I wasn’t sure who it would be, but I’d find a ride. It was good of Ryan to come, for us to clear the air, but I didn’t want him here.
“I don’t expect you to ever trust me again,” he said. “But I want to thank you for your friendship, for the time we had together.”
I swallowed hard and nodded again.
“I won’t stick around. I have a friend from college who lives in Chicago, who I’m going to hang out with for the week. Then I’ll head home and try to figure out just how messed up I am.” He stood. “It’s good to see that you’re okay, though, to know you’re going to be all right.”
“Thank you.” Traveling all this way to apologize was decent of him. There was still good in Ryan Woodward, after all.
I whispered, “Good-bye,” and he left the room with a last glance over his shoulder.
After he was gone, I realized, even though I was stuck in a hospital bed, that I felt a freedom I hadn’t for months. Coming back to Indiana and spending time with Mammi, even helping Arleta birth her baby, had reminded me of who I’d been, of that girl who had wanted to be a midwife, of that girl who had loved farm life and her family.
I’d lost myself trying to mold into who I thought Ryan wanted, trying to hide my insecurities and forget my past pain. As much as it hurt—and as untimely as it was—Ryan had done me a favor by calling off the wedding. On Christmas Eve, he’d said breaking up was best for both of us. He’d been right.
Now, hopefully, I could find a new path where I could be true to myself and to who God had created me to be.
Just as I’d nestled into the pillows to try to take a nap, I heard a man’s voice outside of my door and feared Ryan had returned. I was too emotionally spent to see him again. But to my surprise, it was Uncle Seth, with Mammi and Jane flanking either side of him.
“Look who I brought to see you,” he boomed.
Jane stood back while Uncle Seth and Mammi rushed toward me. Both gave me hugs, and Mammi kept patting the top of my head as she stared at the stitches along my hairline. “Oh, Savannah,” she said over and over.
“Mammi, I’m fine. Really.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “And to think I worried about you flying.”
Uncle Seth laughed. “I’ve told you the statistics on that a hundred times, Dorothy.”
“Take off your coats,” I said. “Stay a while. I’m still waiting for a doctor to come in and give me the results of my CT scan.”
As Mammi and Jane took off their coats and bonnets, Uncle Seth said he was going to go find a cup of coffee. “That drive almost put me to sleep.”
I winced, thinking of three people I cared dearly about traveling together in that old pickup on icy roads. They shouldn’t have.
Mammi held up a bag. She’d brought me clothes and one of her warm coats—her nicest one, I was sure.
“Jane, who’s watching the shop?” I asked.
“No one,” she said. “I put a sign in the window that it’s closed for the day. Coming here was much more important.”
“Denki,” I whispered.
Mammi and Jane pulled up chairs, and then after I’d given all the details about the accident, I finally said, “Enough about me.” I smiled at Jane. “How about more about Emma? I’ve been wanting to hear the rest of her story.”
“Oh, I don’t know if this is the right place,” she said.
“What could be a better place? It’s winter and snowy here, and I’m unwell. When you stopped last time, it was wintery and snowy there, and Emma was ill. And Mathilde was missing.”
Just as Miriam still was.
Jane gave Mammi a questioning look, and she nodded.
“All right,” Jane said. “Jah, Mathilde was missing. . . .”