CHAPTER SIX

 

Two Weeks Later…

 

“You know that you’re going to die, right?” The Doctor sat across from Charlotte, his words hesitant, his mood sad, and her mouth drew a downward curve too, her color quickly fading out of her once peach-colored face. 

“The owner of the hair tonic, in which you accidentally shot, had been donating quite a sum of money towards the research to find a cure for your strange illness. His wife inherited all of his assets, and I doubt that she will continue to do so.”  He forced a tight smile and lowered his brow, “She’s going through a lot losing her husband and all.  I hope that you understand.” 

Charlotte shivered and her stomach clenched tight, and she was now a greyish pale, a color that the doctor was used to seeing in folks when he’d hand down a death sentence.  This was the only thing that he hated about his job, and he kneeled before the Lord every night to pray for the strength to deal with such tragedy. 

She swallowed a cold lump in her throat and slowly asked, “There are no treatments at all?”

The Doctor smiled and then reluctantly responded, “There is another possible treatment, but it’s not guaranteed, and it has quite a hefty price tag: a thousand dollars per injection, and you need one every week for the first month, and then one every quarter.  He knew that she hadn’t that kind of money, and he felt sorry for her.

He could feel his nervous throat calling to be numbed by a shot or two of whiskey.  He hadn’t drunk since his wife had passed away, but he knew he’d have to have a couple over chatty conversation at the local saloon, and he thought that the bar regulars would get his mind of Charlotte Miller’s plight. 

Truth be told, his mind had been on Charlotte a lot lately, and he tried to ignore his daydreaming idea that he could fix her up with a good, wealthy man.  He’d had his heart broken by several beautiful women, but none were as beautiful as her, and her humbleness and non-arrogance intrigued him. 

He wasn’t Amish, didn’t want to be, nor was he interested in persuading a dazzling young lady to don pearls and fancy New York fashions; she already had her hands on glamorous stage gowns with matching hand-sewn umbrellas and gloves, and that was depressing enough.  The cape dresses, black aprons, and white heart-shaped kapps reflected a community of faith, dedication, and a love that was stronger than any that he’d even seen, so why would she want to give up something so special, so genuine, just to fit in? Why is she wearing these gowns?  Is it to get noticed by the wealthy men?  He glanced down and seen how the top lace curved and lined her chest.  There would be no way an Amish woman would wear such dress. 

“I’ll raise the money,” She said as a little color resurfaced in her face, her eyes watery but sparkling.

“How are you going to raise the money?”  He sighed, crossed his arms, and leaned back into the chair.  Should he tell her, just this one time that she could go down to Harrison’s Feed Store to mingle with the group of wealthy businessmen who had considered building an explosives operation here? 

Several of the businessmen were single, and after many a beautiful girlfriend, they were still single.  They could save her life, but they couldn’t save her soul: only Jesus Christ could, and these men didn’t know or want to know Jesus Christ.  How many years could she gain?  He thought maybe thirty, or even fifty years if she took good care of herself.  She’d be able to have children, travel the world, as long as she had her umbrella for weather protection, and enjoy the world’s finest food and drink. 

“I’m going to knit!” Her response was quick and to the point, and it showed her hope in herself that she could pull herself up by her own boot strings and save her life.  He shook his head and doubted her.

“Honey, what are you going to knit?  You need your rest. Listen here, you’re the most beautiful lady in Bloomington, and I can help you out.”  He stopped his words as guilt entered his mind, for he was falling for his manly desires because of her beauty, and that was not what she needed, and although he knew it, he so strongly wanted her to live; he was caught up in her story and wanted to be the prince.”

She laughed.  “You like me Doctor?  I’m quite fragile and shy compared to the other ladies that I’ve seen in town.  They know they are lovely, and that kind of turns me away from ever wanting to invite them over to my house to chat.  I could teach them to knit, and I can even teach them how to uses spices and dried peaches and apples from my orchard to fix some good tasting friend pies.

She giggled, and then cupped her mouth with her right hand.  “They are so sophisticated; I mean they pay someone else to bring them the vegetables.  They would never get dirty in a vegetable patch, or even butcher a chicken.”

He smiled and extended his hand, “I’ve known you since you were young, and I’ve never properly introduced myself to you.  I am Charles Bronson, and I have been a doctor in several communities, even Walnut Creek, where I learned how to heal with herbs.  I have always admired your culture, especially your people’s strong faith.

She shyly extended her hand and shook his, but he didn’t let go of the grip. His hand was warm and much larger than hers, as he was twenty-years older than her.  He reached over, gripped her hand tightly.   

Her brow arched and her mouth flew open.  She could feel that this was more than a friendship or business grip; he was attracted to her. What was he thinking?  He was the town doctor, not a potential love interest, and besides, she couldn’t be anyone’s fraa because she just wasn’t that type.  For one, she wasn’t as pretty as the other girls, and her siblings had told her that, that she’s be at home for life.  Secondly, no one would want someone with a disability, one that could kill them in a second, so why was he interested in her? 

He forced back tears as sharp, darting pains stabbed his stomach.  What he had just done was wrong, and he knew it, but he felt somewhat okay because his instincts had kicked in, and he didn’t kiss her, even though he so badly wanted to feel her lips against his lips.  He looked down at the locked hands and let go of her hand.  “I’m too old for you.” He smiled, and she smiled back and then giggled. 

“That’s okay doctor.  You did the right thing.  I’m impressed by your politeness and your honesty.”  She looked at him and studied his face.  A doctor like him should not be lonely.  Why hadn’t he gotten remarried? He was handsome, genuine, and an all-around great man. 

“There’s a big age difference, and I can’t act on my desire to date you because you’re the prettiest woman in Bloomington; it’s just not right.  Roy Bender is you’re a year older than you, and he’s developed quite a business empire through peddling his Amish community’s wares.”

“That’s interesting.  Is he in Walnut Creek?”

“Yes, he is the candy man that brings the licorice from England and the nice, good quality homemade candy convections that his Amish community makes to sell.”

Her mouth flew wide open, and her mouth popped an upward curve.  This is too good to be true! That’s the man that is so rude that he’s downright cute!”

“You like him?”  The Doctor asked as he glanced down, scribbled on a piece of paper, and looked up and handed it to her.  “There’s the New York doctor that can save your life.  He’s the only one that can save you now.”

“What if I sell the knitted mittens and scarves and give all the money to the Louisville School for the Blind?” She sternly looked at the doctor, passionate about what she’d just asked him, and he grew a puzzled look.

“Give it away?”  He clarified, and she nodded and eyed his confused eyes.

“Then you will surely die.”  He uttered, still confused.

“Good.  I want to prove a point. And it’s not like this idea has suddenly developed, for I’ve wanted to test the God that my parents tested and prayed to when I was sitting in my upstairs bedroom.  I watched everything out of my window, my pathway to the outside world.  It’s all that I have ever known, so when you speak of the fancy New York doctor being the only one that can save my life, you rule out the God that my parents cherished, had faith in, and prayed to for the sixteen years that I dwelled with them in the little house, the house that I now run.”

“Honey, God is good, and He can do many things, but some things need real medicine.  He blesses men like me with the training to heal his people.”

“I’m sure that he does, but I am going with my gut-feeling, and something deep inside me says that He will heal me.”  She grimaced and her body shook, for this new faith in believing in the God that she personally didn’t know was new to her, and although her parents had been blessed by His blessings, they knew Him; she did not know Him yet.

However, she wanted to, and partly because she’d seen how much he had cared for her family: during the great crop disease, he had provided food and cash donations from a total stranger, and during the fever outbreak, when her family was too sick to tend to the farms, He had sent some strangers from the next town over to tend the farms; the volunteers camped out in the barn, never got sick, and the crops blossomed. 

“I’ve seen a lot from my upstairs bedroom window.  This will be fun for me to get to know this God that protected my family during hard times.  It will be fun to read the large family Bible that my mamm’s Schweschder Esther gave to her for her new home.”

“That’s quite a challenge, but you will die,” He frowned and extended his hand, and she hesitated but then offered hers and briskly shook his hand. 

“I’ll take that chance on God today.”  Her soft peach-toned cheeks lit up her white face, her eyes glistening like a fresh white snow.  She truly was heartfelt about getting healing from a Higher Power, and although he didn’t agree with her decision, he stood up and patted her on the back to wish her well. 

The door closed and her black boots slushed through the small water puddles that the sudden downpour of rain had created moments earlier.  A cool, crisp snap of wind, just want she needed to cool down, came zipping across her whole body, swaying her blonde hair like golden bubbles.

She was glad that she had brought the navy umbrella.  She popped it open and wondered about the sun.  Previously, she’d twirled the baby blue umbrella in the storm’s fury on the night that her mother had died, for she didn’t think that she could make it on her own.   Here she was leaving another devastating meeting with Doctor Bronson, one where she’d been given a sure death sentence without the expensive medicine, and she was more upbeat than ever.  She couldn’t pinpoint it, but she knew God was there, and she knew everything would be okay.  Sure, she was nervous, her stomach in knots, but that was to be expected since she was venturing into an unknown realm- believing in and developing a relationship with God. 

“Young lady, where is your kapp?” She knew that it was him- the annoying candy man, and she chuckled, wanting to hear his rude voice again.  She knew that there had to be a lovable person underneath the stern businessman.

She walked over and got into his buggy, leaning under his umbrella. “Hello.  How are you?  I just had counseling with the doctor, and to answer your question, my friend is sewing me some because mine were ruined in the muddy creek.’

“Be more responsible.”  He sighed and gave a warm, caring smile, and that shocked her.

“You’re being nicer today.  I see a wonderful smile.  I knew you had some positive qualities under that harsh cowboy-type skin of yours; you’re like leather, you know?  It makes a young lady like I work harder to get to know you.  I’m willing to do that.”

He was quiet for a moment as she leaned against his chest.  He raised the umbrella higher and slightly tilted it to shield her blonde curls from the rain.  For once in his seventeen and a half years, he was able to open up and share his heart.  Since the death of his baby brother and father, he’d been a traveler, restless, moving from city to city to keep busy.  He now wondered if God had other plans for him.  He glanced down at her wet umbrella and hoped that she’d forget it often so that he could share his umbrella.  All the ladies have them.  He hoped that trend would change. 

*****

 

Rule Number One: Business is Business.  He recalled his sales training at a fancy seminar in New York City, one that he shouldn’t have went to, for he was Amish, and he knew it.  The client had paid for it and two nights lodging before he’d inherited the spacious New York City apartment. Don’t ever give your stuff away; make them pay for it. He’d broken this one business rule and now he had a young lady attracted to him because of the sweet red-swirled peppermint stick.

The oil lamp flickered and glowed across the small bed and bedside table.  He flopped down, sighed, and stretched his aching back across the bed.  It had been aching all day, and he knew that his body was being pushed beyond its limits.  Going back to regular farming was hard work, too, but it was relaxing, somewhat of a free reward for doing something that he was so passionate about, and just the thought of it excited him. 

He leaned up and yawned before reaching down to take off his boots, one sore foot at a time.  The bottom of his feet had calluses, and a slight arthritis had set up in his back making him less attractive than the other men of Walnut Creek, so he had thought. When she arrived in Walnut Creek, would one of the regular-looking men get her attention?  She was a fine young lady, but independent she was not, and he actually had to admit that that was to his advantage. 

The day had already started out badly when he’d found out that John C. Brow’s half-sister was dating Josh Miller, Charlotte’s brother, and the two of their acquaintances were just gunned down by US Marshalls on the south end of Indianapolis. 

He rubbed his hand against his pounding head.  He should have told her, but he hadn’t the heart to do so and how could he?  She’s just been given a death sentence.  Not that he was worried about the death sentence, for he had faith in God healing her, but she might not have as much experience with being down on her knees as he had had, so he didn’t know if she was panicking inside or whether she was calm and faithful, letting God lead.  He hoped that she was letting Him lead her. 

A sudden knock on the door startled him.  Approaching his front door, he heard a female sobbing.  Swinging the door open, a dripping wet woman with long black hair stood weeping with a letter in her hand.  She was the lady that sorted the mail.

“What’s wrong?  Come on in, young lady.”

“No! No! This can’t be happening!”  Water spun from her long black strands as she leaned over the letter.  “Oh God, please don’t let this be true!” The girl fell onto her knees, reached her arms up to heaven, and screamed, “She’s going to die, and we need a miracle, God.  We need a wealthy man now, one that will love her enough to spend the thousands of dollars to save her life!”

He frowned and blurted, “She’s going to die.  Just face it.  She’s been like that ever since her husband died, and she’s always telling me that my candy sticks aren’t big enough for the high price that I charge.  How can I help a woman who hates me?  I’m sorry as coming off rude, but she guzzles strong drink since her husband’s death?  Who’s to say that she won’t use the money for alcohol instead of the much-needed treatments?  I am a Christian, I will help, but I am sending the money to the doctor and not to her.  I hope that you understand.  Let me get my check book.”

He’d been friends with Lizzie Hamilton’s husband Ben right up to the day that he took his last breath, and he had promised him that if anything would ever happen to her, that he’d pay for her medicine and treatment.  In the back of Ben’s mind, he may have known that Lizzie had not been feeling well for a while, as he had arranged to have the talk with him about helping her a year before he found out that he had terminal heart disease.

“Thank you! Thank you!  I give thanks to our Almighty Lord and Savior! I knew God would provide a miracle!” The girl laced her fingers together in beneath her bowing head and gave a heartfelt gratitude to God for saving this young lady’s life.

“Okay.  What’s the doctor’s name?”  Come into my office, but be careful, for you might trip over something.  I haven’t had time to organize the client files or invoices.  I am more organized in my other office.”  He carried the oil lamp into the office and sat it on his work desk.  He sighed as his leaned his tall back against the desk chair.  It had already been a long day, and now the day had gotten longer.  The checkbook flipped open and he dipped the pen into the thick ink.

“Thank you, Sir. His name is Doctor Drummond, and he needs an $8,000 retainer, for he has to buy the solution for the injection in bulk.  She will work for you in return; she’s a good hand.”

“She’s a good hand by guzzling alcohol?”  He shook his head.  “Okay, but tell to her make sure she’s sober, and I wanted her in front of the Lumber Mill at seven o’clock sharp because that’s when the men folk come to town to get lumbar, and the school kids walk past there. I need to increase my client base, and starting with children is a good way to do it.”

“We were switched at birth,” He looked at her, knowing that the drunkard lady was twice her age.  Had this young lady gotten a bad letter and decided to numb the feelings by taking up drinking.  It seemed like a lot of the folks in Bloomington had done that, and once they had started, they never stopped.  He shook his head again and wished that alcohol would be banned. He sent a silent prayer up requesting such from the Lord. 

“Anyway, that’s private information.  You see, I just read it here in a letter from the doctor who used to be in Walnut Creek.  He felt so guilty for allowing the swap that he followed the baby here to look after her.  She was my twin sister.”  Her thick, dark hair hung over the left side of her shoulder as she talked; the lamp light glowed about her face, her compassion displayed through her eyes.

“We’re talking about someone else?  I misunderstood you.  How old are you, and does this person live here, your twin that was swapped at birth?  Where is the other child?”

“Yes, they reside her, and I’m not eighteen yet, but I think that I act like I am.”

“That still didn’t give me an age.” He looked at her.

“The person asked for you to not know that she has gotten the money.”  She bit her bottom lip and looked at him for an answer.

“Well, she’ll get the check when she starts working for me in the morning.  Whoever she is, tell her to dress professionally, and to wear her Sunday best.”

“But tomorrow is Saturday.” Her brow wiggled and her face looked confused, and he shrugged.

“It’s a sales job.  You have to look your best!”

“Okay.  Thank you!”  The girl swung ice-cold water onto the desk as she quickly turned around to exit the room.