Cara stood at the kitchen counter as Joe Garrett wrote out a check. With his hand blocking her view, she couldn’t see the amount. She heard Lori in the next room, talking with the Garretts’ little girl.
Mr. Garrett paused, holding the payment in his hand. “You did an amazing job. Not a scratch on any of the floors or furniture, closets not only painted but organized. Every room painted beautifully. And no spatters of paint anywhere to be seen. I never expected all this. And in a week? You must’ve been logging some major overtime.”
“I’m glad you’re pleased.”
He passed her the check. “I think that should say how impressed we are.”
She glanced at the amount and nearly choked. Five hundred more dollars than they’d agreed on. All she’d hoped to do was ensure the Garretts were happy to pay her fee.
Heather Garrett motioned around the room. “I love it. Absolutely love it.” She took the checkbook from her husband. “I’ve been threatening to clean and organize forever.”
Cara’s heart pounded like crazy. She had money, real start-up money. She was so excited she wanted to dance. Instead she folded the paper and slid it into her pocket. “There’s a box of stuff in the garage, things that seemed obsolete when I cleaned out the closets.”
“I’ll go through it later this week.”
Cara went upstairs to help Mahlon and Grey finish. They were busy moving pieces of furniture back into place. In spite of her being a stranger and an Englischer to boot, they’d let her manage the day without complaint. She liked both of her co-workers, which surprised her. They weren’t at all what she’d thought they’d be—stuffy, judgmental, and difficult.
With a check in her pocket, her portion of it worth more than a month’s pay, she felt hope buoy her again. “I really appreciate all you’ve done today.” She peeled a strip of painter’s tape off the baseboard.
Grey straightened his shoulders, working the kinks out of his neck. “Glad to help. The brushes, rollers, and most of the drop cloths are clean and loaded in the wagon.”
Cara tossed a wad of tape into the trash. “We need to gather up the remaining supplies from the basement and walk through every room together to make sure we covered each item on the checklist, and then we’re ready to go.”
Mahlon pulled tape from a different section of the room. “Maybe you could help Deborah paint after I find us a place.”
“I thought I was taboo.”
Looking a bit uncomfortable, Grey set a lamp on the dresser. “I’ll tell you plain out. You’ve made some huge blunders. Surely many Englischers would see it that way too, no?”
As much as she hated to admit it, he was right.
“See, among the Amish certain lines are not crossed. Ever. But if you move out of Ephraim’s place and show yourself trustworthy, folks will come around eventually—if you’re interested in that.”
She peeled off the last bit of tape and reeled it in. There it was, staring her in the face again—the need to move out of Ephraim’s place. “Except for Ephraim, I don’t care what the rest think.”
Grey set another lamp on the nightstand and plugged it in. “Right or wrong, he hid things from the church and community where you’re concerned. He joined the faith years ago, and it’s against our ways for him to open up his life to a woman who’s not Amish, so you’ll never be allowed much leeway with Ephraim.”
She appreciated Grey’s honesty. It stung a bit, but his tone and facial expressions said he wanted to help her understand. She longed to look in the faces of her relatives just once to see what they were like. The desire grew, and thoughts of going to the Riehl place tugged at her.
Mahlon threw a wad of tape into the trash. “Ephraim can do as he pleases if he’s willing to turn his back on everyone and live shunned the rest of his life.”
What? Feeling the room grow smaller, she leaned against the dresser. That’s what had happened to her mother, wasn’t it? And not only had her mother paid a price, she’d suffered too. And now Lori was paying a price as well. “Being friends with me will cause continued division? I don’t want that.” Should she walk away and never look back? “Isn’t there some middle ground here?”
Grey slid the curtains back onto the rods. “Maybe. If you dress modest, watch your mouth, and behave in reserved ways so it’s clear you’re honoring our lines of morality.”
“That’s a tall order.”
“For us too.” He snapped the curtain rod in place. “But God gives us strength. And the church leaders set good examples and hold us accountable. Our ways cause bumps, bruises, and misunderstandings that get pretty heated sometimes. But after everything settles back down, we all learn from the mistake.”
She couldn’t imagine the type of management it took to keep an entire Amish community together for hundreds of years. The understanding Grey had just opened to her eased the pain of the people’s stance against her. But like Ephraim said—the things that bound them would never loosen, but the things that separated them would always stand firm. Suddenly, for Ephraim’s sake, she wanted to get out of his life so he could begin repairing the damage she’d caused. And she needed to get out as soon as possible.
But first she wanted to look in Emma Riehl’s eyes and ask what happened.
Ephraim sat next to the hospital bed. His Daed had slept most of the day. His breathing was fast and shallow, his legs, ankles, and feet were swollen, and his fingernails had a bluish tint. The progression of the cardiomyopathy seemed rapid of late, and in spite of what Scripture said about trusting God, Ephraim worried.
The midafternoon sun reflected off the walls. An emergency had interrupted the doctor’s rounds this morning, so he hadn’t been by yet. Just as well, Ephraim supposed, because when his Daed was awake, he expressed reluctance to let him talk to the doctor. He kept saying he didn’t need his son to treat him like he was a kid. But there was more to his objections than that; Ephraim was sure of it. With Becca finally gone to the cafeteria for lunch, he intended to find out what.
“Daed.” He touched his arm, waking him. “We need to talk.” He gave him a minute to wake before he passed him a glass of ice chips.
“I’m thirsty, and all they allow are ice chips? This is a lousy hotel.”
He hoped his father’s bit of humor was a good sign.
“Daed, I need to be here when the doctor comes to talk to you. I want to hear what he has to say.”
“We discussed this already. I’m fine. There’s nothing to know.”
“Then let the doctor explain that to me.”
“Did you come to visit or to wear me out?”
“I came to see if there’s anything that can be done about these episodes. Your heart condition is worsening, landing you in the hospital time and again. What aren’t you telling me? I think you owe me the truth.”
“Owe you?” His father stared at him.
“Yes.”
“You’re the one who owes me. Letting that girl sleep at your place. I’m being dishonored in front of the whole world.”
The turmoil inside him eroded every semblance of peace he’d found among his people over the years. If his father had an inkling how Ephraim felt, he might need to be moved to ICU. “I’m sorry for the stress the situation has caused you. But right now I want to discuss your health. Nothing else.”
His father set the glass on the tray table. “I don’t like being treated like a child.”
“Me either. But you’re treating me like one. Shouldn’t we act more like business partners? We don’t have to always agree, but we can love and respect each other as equals.”
His father picked at the tape where the IV was stuck into his arm. “The meds that improve my heart’s ability to pump aren’t working like they used to. We’ve tried a lot of different things, but the symptoms are just getting worse. There’s nothing to be done.”
“I talked to a nurse a couple of weeks ago, and she said there’s this thing called an AICD.”
Daed’s eyes misted. “Not acceptable. It requires a blood transfusion. And I refuse to mingle my blood with that of a sinner. I’d rather die.”
Weary of rules and constraints and family needs, Ephraim’s frustration peaked. “We need to consider all the medical options.”
“You’re asking me to ignore my convictions. All those years of working by my side, and you still don’t understand me? Where is the respect for everything I’ve done for you? I built that business up and practically gave it to you.”
“When you asked me to come home because of your illness, I came and took over supporting the family. So don’t even start about giving me the shop. I work twice as hard as I should so I can give you and your family more than half of all the profits. Now, I want to discuss your medical options, and we’ll decide together.”
“I won’t be put to sleep and have my chest ripped open. Those doctors aren’t God. My life is in His hands.”
Grinding his teeth, he tried to temper his answer. “He’s not the one you’ve been relying on to support you. I’ve been carrying that burden. So if there are ways to ease the symptoms, we need to consider them. Don’t let your illness be worse than it has to be.”
His father gazed out the window, and Ephraim watched the minute hand above his bed circle the clock twice. “You didn’t need to be draus in da Welt. If God wanted to use my health to get you home, I’m not arguing.”
“Whoa.” Ephraim jumped to his feet, a dozen arguments against that nonsense running through his mind. “You were bad off, and I had to come home. But you can’t hold my life ransom unless you have no other choice. I won’t stand for it—not anymore.”
“Not anymore?”
Ephraim looked out the window, seeing miles and miles of a world he didn’t belong to. “I gave you my life, Daed. Too freely. Too easily. I’m not sure why, except I loved you and I respected what you wanted more than what I wanted. At the time it made sense to become who you needed me to be. But you’ve taken it too far. And I’ve let you.”
His father held his gaze, seemingly stunned at the turn of the conversation. “You want your freedom to chase after that woman, don’t you?”
Bright sunshine illuminated the earth, but Ephraim’s thoughts and feelings suspended inside him like thick fog. “I want you to stop controlling my life. You’ve made choices, and I carry the weight of them. You chose a wife more than ten years younger than you. You chose to continue sleeping with her even after you were too sick to support the children you already had. She brought two children into the marriage, and you had three more after you became sick. I should have realized this long before now, but doesn’t it seem wrong that I have to pay for your choices?”
The muscles in his father’s throat constricted. Minutes droned on, and his father’s eyes misted. “Are you saying you’re leaving the faith?”
“No. I’m saying if there’s a possibility of you getting well by trying certain things, then you should try them.”
“If I allow a surgery, I’ll have to sign papers to accept a blood transfusion if the need arises.” Tears moistened his eyes. “Besides, part of me wants to see your mother so badly.”
As the layers of Daed’s thoughts unfolded, Ephraim saw there wasn’t just one issue stopping him from pursuing his medical options. He had a tangled mess of reasons. “Daed, it was more awful to lose Mamm than we could bear for a long time.”
“I still miss her.”
“Me too. One of the first things I remember after you married Becca is her standing at the kitchen sink, washing dishes. Because she wore her hair the same way and had on the Amish garb, she looked a lot like Mamm. She put good meals on the table for us, just like Mamm had. She packed my lunch like Mamm. She even sat on the couch reading to the little ones, kissed them tenderly, and tucked them in like Mamm. There wasn’t one physical act Mamm did that Becca couldn’t do. But she wasn’t Mamm. And our hearts knew it.”
“I’m sure Becca would understand. She ached over losing her husband too.”
“I know.” He sat next to his father and placed his hand on his arm. “You fill a place in our family that I can’t fill. If I have to, I can make the necessary decisions and earn the money to pay the bills. But we all want and need you. You’ve got to fight. If not for yourself, for your youngest children who won’t even remember you if you give up now. For Deborah, who adores you more than you know. And for me. I’m tired of trying to be you but more than ready to be your son again.”
Someone tapped on the door while opening it. “How are you feeling today, Abner?” He nodded at Ephraim. “I’m Dr. Kent.”
Ephraim stood and introduced himself. “I’ve been talking with my Daed, and I’d like you to explain his options to both of us.”
The man looked to Daed. When he nodded, the doctor took a seat. “Sure. I’ll cover a few basics, and we’ll go from there. To begin with, your father doesn’t have heart disease. Years ago a virus moved into the organ and caused physical damage. He’s been on medicines for a long time, and that worked for a while. But this past year their effectiveness has been waning, and he’s having more episodes. His thyroid has suffered a lot of damage, which is stealing his energy. Monitoring his diet is no longer enough. His heart rate is becoming more difficult to control, as is the fluid retention in his body. He’s not bad enough to be eligible for a heart transplant. And I hope he doesn’t get to that point, because the waiting list is longer than most can survive. But we’ve had good success with AICDs. It will be able to decrease his heart rate when needed, and I believe implanting one is the best treatment plan for Abner, though it’s not without problems.”
“Will he need a transfusion for that?”
“Unlikely. But I won’t operate without blood from the bank already in the OR. His blood doesn’t clot well, so I’m particularly cautious.” He glanced from Daed to Ephraim and back again. “Is that a problem?”
Ephraim nodded. “It’s a pretty big obstacle for my Daed.”
“Why?”
Ephraim waited on his Daed to speak up, but he didn’t. “He’s uncomfortable with the thought of having a stranger’s blood going into his body.”
“Abner, I had no idea that was part of the holdup. As long as the blood type matches or is compatible, you can have friends and relatives donate blood for you.”
His father didn’t move for several moments. Then he looked at Ephraim. “I didn’t know that.”
Irritation pounded inside him. Ephraim had suffered years of unfairness, and it threatened to turn into deep-seated anger. His father should have been slower to stand against the unknown and quicker to ask every possible question.
“Ephraim, are you convinced I should do this?”
Ephraim couldn’t be sure his father would fare better after the procedure or even that he’d survive any possible complications. “I won’t take on the responsibility of deciding for you.”
His father shook his head. “I’ve been wrong. I can’t begin to make it up to you unless I try to gain my strength back.” He looked to the doctor. “I’ll do it.”
