11
Zane stood beside Tim and held a lantern high as the veterinarian examined Billie’s foreleg. “The swelling has gone down. I’d say he’s going to make it.”
“But will he be able to pull a buggy?” Tim asked. “Or will he be prone to reinjure it?”
“Another injury will be a little more likely, sure,” the vet said, “but I think he’ll do all right. He should have several more good years.”
Tim wouldn’t want Zane to keep the horse if it couldn’t pull a buggy. As gentle as he was with his cows, Tim was still practical when it came to animals. He wouldn’t condone keeping one around just to feed.
“All right,” Tim finally said. “We’ll give it another week or so and see how he’s doing.”
Lila would be heartbroken if Tim thought Billie should be put down. So would Zane and his budget. He already had to buy a new buggy—and perhaps with no insurance money to help.
Zane continued to hold the lantern up as they all left the barn. “Thank you,” Zane said as they reached the door. “How much do I owe you?”
“Ach,” Tim said. “I’ll cover it.” He turned toward the vet. “Put it on my bill.”
“I will,” the vet said. He’d checked on one of the dairy cows too.
Tim turned toward Zane. “Thank you for helping with the milking.”
“Sure.” Zane had gotten off work early and knew Rose could use a break.
“Could you listen to a message on the machine before you go?” Tim asked. “It’s about the accident.”
“Oh?” Zane thought he’d given everyone his parents’ phone number, hoping they’d call there.
“From the insurance company, I think,” Tim said. “Go listen to it.”
Zane stepped into Tim’s office, wishing he’d told him earlier about the call. The agent had most likely left by now. Zane clicked the button on the machine. A man’s voice came on, identifying himself and the insurance company he worked with. Zane grabbed a pen. The man said, “After gathering more information from Mr. Addison, the driver of the SUV, and reading the police report filed by a Deputy Howell, I wanted to give you an update. Please call me back at your convenience.” He rattled off his phone number twice and then said good-bye.
Zane scribbled down the number and quickly called the insurance agent back. He let it ring several times, expecting a voice message after each ring. He wanted to at least leave a message. He didn’t want to have to call back the next day.
Just as he wondered if he should hang up, the insurance agent picked up and said hello.
“Zane Beck, here. Calling back on behalf of Lila Lehman.”
“Thank you,” the man said. “May I speak to Ms. Lehman?”
“No,” Zane said. “I’m in her father’s barn, using the phone in his office. She’s in a house without a phone.”
“I see,” the man said. “And you are?”
“Her fiancé.”
“I see,” he said again. “You’ll still need to have her call me back. I can’t divulge any private information to you.”
Zane exhaled sharply. None of this was easy. “How long will you be in your office?”
“I’m on my cell. Call me any time.”
“I should be able to get a phone to her within a half hour, at least.”
“Perfect,” the man answered.
Zane hustled out of the barn and jogged across the field. When he reached the little house, Rose and Reuben stood on the porch. At first, Zane felt relieved to see them together. He’d been worried by the way Trevor was looking at Rose the evening Simon and Casey showed up. After he called out a hello, he realized they were deep in conversation. It looked pretty serious. Reuben had his hat in his hands and Rose had her arms crossed.
Reuben said a quick hello, but Rose didn’t say anything.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Zane said as he approached. “Is my mom around?”
Rose shook her head. “She went home about twenty minutes ago. She was going to heat up supper and bring some over.”
“Denki.” Not wanting to intrude, Zane started toward his parents’ place. “Tell Lila I’ll be over in just a minute,” he called over his shoulder.
Rose sighed. “All right. And then I’m going home to get supper on the table for Dat and Trudy.”
Zane waved to let her know he’d heard her, tipped his hat to Reuben, who nodded in reply, and then hurried over to his parents’ house. He opened the door, stepped inside, and found Trevor sprawled the length of the sofa, asleep, and Adam sitting in a chair, reading a book.
“Mom,” Zane called out, veering off toward the kitchen. She stood at the stove stirring a pot of something. “I need to borrow your cell phone.”
“What for?” Mom let go of the spoon and reached into her apron pocket.
“So Lila can talk to the insurance agent.”
She handed the phone to Zane. “Tell Rose I’ll bring supper over soon.”
Zane nodded toward the living room. “What’s Trevor doing?”
“Sleeping,” Mom answered. “And soundly. I dropped a cookie sheet and he didn’t even stir.”
“But why is he here? Why didn’t he go over to Eve and Charlie’s?”
Mom shrugged. “Ask him when he wakes up, but he probably feels more comfortable here, rather than hanging out with Eve until Charlie gets home.”
That made sense. It also reminded Zane he needed to call Charlie and tell him he needed more time off from volunteering at the station. He wasn’t sure when he’d go back—it might be a long time. “Thanks,” he said, holding up the phone as he headed for the front door.
He had to wake Lila up, which wasn’t easy. “How many pills did you have?” Zane asked as Lila rubbed her eyes.
She shrugged. “Just one. The usual.”
Zane held up the bottle. There were only a few left. He’d talk to his mom about renewing the prescription.
“Babe,” Zane said, his frustration growing. “I need you to talk to the insurance agent. I’ll put the phone on speaker and take notes so we don’t miss anything.”
“All right,” she said. “Help me with the backrest.”
He adjusted it so she was reclining at an angle, the fixator jutting out in front of her.
Zane pulled the slip of paper with the phone number on it from his pocket, dialed, and then put the phone on speaker. It rang twice and then the agent picked it up. Zane told him hello and then nodded at Lila.
“Hello,” she said.
“How are you doing?” the man asked.
“Fine,” she answered.
“Oh, good,” the man said.
Zane winced. He’d believed her. “Actually, she’s not fine,” Zane said. “She has a crushed pelvis with a fixator bolted to her hip bones. Have you seen one of those before? It’s like a Frankenstein contraption. She can’t sit up straight. She can’t walk more than a few feet. No one would even use it as a torture device.” Zane’s frustration turned on the man. “Plus, she’s recovering from a ruptured spleen, a bruised bladder, a bruised liver, and a concussion.”
“Oh, well,” the agent said. “I’m so sorry to hear that.” He paused for a moment and then said, “I wanted to give you our update after interviewing Mr. Addison and examining his vehicle. And reading the deputy’s report.”
Lila didn’t respond.
“Are you there, Ms. Lehman?”
“Jah,” she answered. “I’m just a little sleepy.”
“Is this an all right time to talk?”
“I think so,” she said.
“Yes or no?”
“Jah,” she answered. Zane wished she’d stop saying jah. It sounded so lackadaisical. Yes sounded much more precise.
“Okay, then listen carefully,” he said. “We’ve come to the conclusion that your buggy veered out in front of Mr. Addison’s SUV, causing him to hit the back of your buggy. There was no way for him to avoid the collision.”
“Pardon?”
“You heard me.”
Zane bristled again, his frustration turning to anger.
“No,” Lila said. “I don’t think that’s what happened.”
“Mr. Addison hasn’t changed his story, beginning with the 9-1-1 call. We have it as evidence.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s not what happened,” Lila said, her voice soft and calm.
“Pretty sure or sure? The police report indicated you were uncertain,” the man said. “And the report indicated”—there was the rustling of paper—“that you had a head injury from the accident, perhaps contributing to a cognitive issue.”
“It was a mild concussion,” Zane corrected.
“But can Ms. Lehman be certain she can remember the moments right before the accident? To know the horse didn’t cut in front of the vehicle.”
“I remember being over as far as I could be on the road and then being hit from behind, and I remember going through the windshield, over the top—”
“The police report corroborates Mr. Addison’s story.”
“No,” Zane said. “It doesn’t.”
“Pardon?” the man said.
“The deputy believed the driver over Lila. That’s all.” Zane stood but leaned toward the phone on the table. “I think your client is trying to take advantage of Lila being Amish. And I’m guessing you are too.”
“No, no, no, that couldn’t be further from the truth,” the man said. “And we could counter you’re trying to take advantage of a driver who happens to have accident insurance as opposed to the driver of the buggy who obviously does not.” Zane bristled. Was that how insurance companies worked? “We’ll be sending Ms. Lehman the cost of the repairs to Mr. Addison’s vehicle.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Zane said.
“No, that’s the law.”
“We’ll be contacting an attorney,” Zane said.
The voice grew deeper. “I thought you just said Ms. Lehman is Amish.”
“And that’s why you thought you could bully her?”
“Of course not,” the man said. “But we won’t be paying for her medical bills or for the buggy. Like I said, she’ll need to pay for the repairs to Mr. Addison’s vehicle.”
“Good-bye,” Zane said, hitting the End button and picking up the phone. “They’re bluffing,” he said, before Lila could respond. She appeared shell-shocked.
“I can’t call an attorney,” she said. “That’s not what we do.”
“I’ll talk to one and get some ideas.” Zane wondered where he’d come up with the money.
Tears filled Lila’s eyes.
“Don’t think about it,” Zane said. “I’ll figure it out.”
“I don’t want the mutual fund to have to pay for it,” Lila said. “Not when I’m the one who was hit.”
“I know.” Zane didn’t really understand the fund, except that everyone contributed to it to pay for medical expenses of people in the district. Lila’s accident certainly qualified, but the man’s insurance should have to pay for her medical care. And the buggy.
Zane stumbled to his feet.
“Are you mad?” Lila asked.
“Of course not.” Zane stopped beside the bed even though he felt like running. He exhaled. It wasn’t her fault.
“I’m sure I was over as far as I could be, that Billie didn’t pull to the left. There’s no way he could have. But the way the agent was talking, it makes me question myself.”
“You’re a good driver,” Zane said. “I believe you. Keep believing yourself.”
“Denki,” she said.
“Dad has a lawyer acquaintance. He’s across the street from the Veterans Center—he’s a vet and helps other vets. I’ll see about talking to him.” He patted her arm and then put the phone on the table. “Don’t worry. Try to rest some more, until Mom comes over with supper.”
She nodded.
“I’m going to go work on the bathroom until then.”
Lila already had her eyes closed as he walked away.
As he sanded by hand, his frustration grew. He’d felt such harmony a year ago when he joined the church, standing in front of the congregation as he proclaimed, “I am a seeker desiring to be part of this church of God.” He knew seeking after God and Christian community were both lifelong endeavors. He knew life had its ups and downs. He just expected the downs to come a little later.
He embraced the Amish, he really did, and he’d never felt such peace as the day he joined, such confidence that it was what God wanted him to do. But maybe the whole lifestyle thing wasn’t as doable as he thought.
Lila’s injuries were worse than his had been when he’d been shot in Afghanistan, and her recovery would take much longer. He remembered the pain he’d been in and the meds he’d taken to get through it. He knew she had to be in horrible agony, probably far worse than she let on. Her body had been tossed from the buggy, then flung through the air, and landed in the creek with the horse on top of her. He shuddered. He hated to even think of it, to replay it in his head.
If Lila had been in a car or pickup she wouldn’t have been hurt so badly. And if the Amish sued, the insurance agent wouldn’t be trying to bully Lila.
He threw the sandpaper on the floor. And if he could use an electric sander, he wouldn’t be rubbing off his fingertips.
“Zane?” It was Mom, standing in the middle of the kitchen, staring at him, her coat still on and holding a pot with oven mitts.
Mom’s eyes were full of concern. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I’m fine.”
“What’s going on?”
“Lots.” Where would he start? He’d tell her about the conversation with the insurance agent later. He jerked his head toward the living room. “What’s with Lila? Is she taking too many pain meds?”
“No,” Mom said. “We’ve been regulating them carefully.”
“She’s all wiped out—like she can’t stay awake.”
“Her pain is still really bad. Plus she needs to sleep to heal.”
“Is there another bottle of pain meds? Because she’s almost out.”
“There’s one in the cupboard in the kitchen. She usually only takes half the prescribed dose—the whole dose is sometimes too much.”
“Okay,” Zane said. At least she wasn’t taking as much as he feared.
Mom said the soup was from one of the Amish ladies and then put the pot on the stove. Zane picked up the sandpaper and started sanding the molding along the door, thinking about what he wouldn’t give for a Shop-Vac to clean everything up.
Lila slept for the rest of the evening and only woke enough to eat some soup. Finally, around eight, Zane headed back over to his parents’ house to eat there, leaving Mom with Lila.
Trevor was still asleep on the sofa when he arrived. Dad was sitting with Adam at the kitchen table, helping him with his homework. Without saying hello, he nodded toward Trevor and then asked his dad what was going on.
“I don’t know,” Dad said. “I’m guessing he’s tired.”
Adam closed his math book.
“Sorry, Bub,” Zane said. “Were you done?”
“Yep. I just have my reading. I’ll do that upstairs.”
Once Adam left the room, Zane sat down and told Dad about the conversation with the insurance agent.
“Is Lila sure she didn’t pull to the left?”
“Yes,” Zane answered. “And I believe her. She’s cautious and methodical when she drives. But she’s doubted herself some, because of what the other driver said.” Zane shook his head. “She’s really not herself.”
“Give her time,” Dad said. “And space. That’s what I needed after my injury. It’s what you needed too.”
Zane exhaled. His dad was right. Lila had encouraged him through that time. He needed to do his best to encourage her now.
Dad grabbed his cane from where it hung on the table edge and stood. “But it sounds as if the insurance company might be trying to take advantage of her, maybe even manipulate her memory.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Zane answered. “I thought maybe I could talk with that lawyer who does pro bono work sometimes.”
“Brad Garrett?”
Zane nodded, remembering when he’d met the man a couple of years ago. He’d been impressed with him then.
Dad smiled a little as he leaned on the cane and pushed himself up out of the chair. “Yeah, I’m sure he’d be happy to give you some advice. Do you think Tim would be all right with that?”
Zane shrugged.
“Don’t go behind Tim’s back,” Dad said.
Dad cocked his head. “That’s not really the Amish way though, is it? They’d probably rather pay her expenses out of the mutual aid fund than get involved in any lawsuit.”
Zane shrugged again. When he’d wrangled with whether he could live as a pacifist or not, he’d thought through the fighting part of it. He hadn’t thought through a case like this, through the legal side of it.
“I know you’ve always held yourself and others to a high standard as far as doing the right thing, but you’re living under different rules now.” Dad took a step toward the kitchen doorway. “You should probably talk with Gideon or someone else in the church before you talk with Brad.”
Zane didn’t respond to his father. Instead he stared at his chapped and scraped hands for a long moment. Construction work was taking its toll. He should wear his gloves more often. Finally he stood and dished up some soup—beef barley—from the pot Mom had left on her stove and sat back down at the table. As he shoveled the food into his mouth, Trevor wandered into the kitchen, bleary eyed.
“What’s for supper?” he asked.
Zane tilted his nearly empty bowl so Trevor could see. “Soup. It’s on the stove.”
Trevor retrieved a bowl from the cupboard, filled it, and sat across from Zane. “Who’s hanging out with Lila tonight?”
“Mom.”
“Is Rose there?”
Zane wrinkled his nose. “Why do you ask?”
“Just wondered.”
After Lila mentioned her concern about Trevor and Rose on Sunday, Zane had brought up the topic with Trevor on the way to work on Monday. Trevor had assured Zane he had no interest in her.
One of the reasons Mom thought Trevor should stay at Eve and Charlie’s was so he’d be away from Rose, saying Tim wouldn’t feel comfortable having a stranger staying so close. Zane thought she was being paranoid, but he had to admit now she’d probably been wise in her judgment. And maybe he’d been too quick to believe Trevor on Monday morning.
Zane put his spoon in the bowl and pushed back a little from the table. “What’s going on with you?”
Trevor blushed, which he didn’t do very often.
Zane exhaled. “Don’t tell me you’re falling for Rose.” What a nightmare that would be. “You said you wouldn’t.”
Trevor shook his head. “Of course not. She’s beautiful though. And her innocence is appealing.”
Zane crossed his arms, alarmed, and cleared his throat.
“Don’t worry—I didn’t mean it that way. I meant she’s spunky and fun. Not the way I imagined an Amish girl to be—not at all.” He blushed again. “No offense.”
“None taken.”
“I always thought you were crazy to fall for an Amish girl, but now I get it.”
Zane shook his head. “No, you don’t get it. Leave Rose alone. She and Reuben are courting.” He wouldn’t mention that they seemed to be stressed. “Hopefully they’ll marry soon. You’d only hurt her.”
“I won’t. I promise.” Trevor took a bite of the soup and then said, “Maybe I’ll head back home sooner than I thought.”
“You said you planned to stay.”
Trevor held his spoon in midair. “I appreciate Charlie and Eve’s hospitality, but it’s awkward staying there. I don’t know them, and their baby cries a lot.” He paused for a moment and then said, “Being here has made me feel more isolated—not less.”
“Isolated?” He was around people all the time.
“Yeah, I’m the outsider. I see what you have with Lila. I see your family. I see you with your dad, something I never really had—I mean, he was there . . . but not really. I see Rose’s family. The other Amish people who have brought meals over.” He shrugged. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“And it makes you feel isolated?”
He nodded. “And it’s not just that I’ll never have anything like this. It’s that you all dress the same. Drive the same buggy. Live in white houses with flowers planted all around. You really know how to make a guy feel like an outsider.” He took another spoonful of soup.
Zane thought about what Trevor said. He wasn’t sure how to explain it but he had to try. “We appear the same for the sake of modesty.”
“Yeah, I get that. The women hide behind those dresses.”
“No, that’s not it,” Zane said. “We all aim to practice modesty. It shows we identify with each other, that we’ve chosen to be part of a Plain community. That’s why our buggies look alike too—no one can flaunt their money by having something much nicer. Same with the houses. We don’t want to call attention to ourselves, to insinuate one person is better than another. We all have value in God’s eyes. We’re all equal to him.”
Trevor shook his head a little and then said, “Yeah, whatever. I’ll stick with my car—red and fast.” He smiled.
Zane shrugged. In all of his frustration lately, he was still grateful he’d chosen to identify with the Amish. He appreciated both the outward and inward commitment to God, family, and community, instead of to individualism. Sure, competition was normal between people, but there wasn’t the same sort of everyone-for-himself competition he’d experienced as an Englischer. He appreciated the way they took care of each other through life’s trials.
Trevor swallowed another spoonful of soup and said, “I’ll go back home in a month or so. Maybe I’ll find a job in construction. Sit around and drink on the weekends.”
Zane raised his eyebrows. “I thought you’d stopped drinking.”
“Yeah, well. I have. Mostly.”
“It’s not anything to mess with.”
Trevor shrugged. “What can I say? I’m pathetic.”
“Have you been drinking recently?”
Trevor pushed his chair back. “I was just joking—don’t get all righteous with me.” He leaned back in the chair. “I should probably get over my fear of commitment and try to work things out with Sierra. Maybe we can get back together, get married, start a family. Maybe she’ll back off and stop nagging me all the time. Maybe I can have a little bit of what you have. Except I won’t have everyone in the county helping me like you do. I’ll barely have my dad’s help.”
“What about going back to school? With the G.I. Bill.”
Trevor brought the chair back down. “I’ve never liked school.”
“You could use it for a vocational program. There are all sorts of possibilities. You can talk to one of the counselors at the Veterans Center.”
Trevor shrugged. “I guess I’m in a funk is all.” He held up his spoon. “I’ll finish this and get out of your way.”
“Take your time.” Zane stood and took his empty bowl to the sink. “I’m going to get to bed.” Maybe a good sleep would help him feel better.
Zane started to head up the stairs but realized he hadn’t asked Trevor what time he’d come by to pick him up in the morning. He backtracked, stepping back into the kitchen. Trevor’s back was to him, but he held a flask.
Zane exhaled. “You weren’t joking.”
Trevor turned around, putting the cap back on the flask as he did. “Looks like you caught me.”
“You promised not to drink here.”
He slipped the flask into his pocket. “I didn’t. Not until today.”
“How much have you had?” Zane asked.
“Not much.” He patted his pocket.
Zane wasn’t sure what to do.
“Look,” Trevor said. “I really am sorry. I’ll work for another couple of weeks and then give my notice. I’d leave sooner, but I’m going to need the reference.”
Zane nodded. “We need to talk with Dad about the drinking.”
Trevor frowned. “I’ll talk with Charlie tonight and ask him to hold me accountable. You and your dad have enough to deal with right now.”
Zane hesitated and then said, “Talk with Charlie.” He held out his hand. “But give me the flask.”
“Good idea,” Trevor said, handing it over.
For half a second Zane thought maybe he understood the appeal. He could use some numbing himself at the moment. Instead he poured the alcohol—whiskey—down the sink and dropped the flask into the garbage.
“I’m just going to go over and tell your mom thanks for supper,” Trevor said. “Then I’ll get going. I’ll pick you up at six thirty.”
“Thanks,” Zane said. “I appreciate it. But don’t bother going over to tell Mom thanks. She probably already has Lila down for the night. She might be getting ready for bed. Besides, one of the Amish ladies made it anyway.”
“All right,” Trevor answered. “See you tomorrow. And listen, I’m sorry. Really.”
Zane nodded, walked Trevor to the door, and then waited on the porch as his friend drove away. Trevor would go back to Delaware. Marry Sierra. And maybe he would be a father in a year or so, if he straightened up.
A father. As much as it would hurt Zane not to be a father, he knew not being a mother would hurt Lila even more, but he wasn’t going to give up on them being able to have children.
But maybe Lila had, from that one ambiguous conversation with the doctor. Maybe that was why it seemed she was so distant. That or the pain pills. Or maybe she was trying to numb herself from the uncertainty that the future held. Or perhaps his mom was right, and she needed the meds to get through her pain.
He felt as if he was failing her, day by day. He couldn’t take care of her. He couldn’t take her pain away. He didn’t understand what this new level of being Amish meant for him. This level of not fighting for justice. Of trusting God and the district to provide over a hundred fifty thousand dollars when the insurance company should be responsible for paying.
He’d use the rest of his savings to buy a new buggy. He wasn’t going to dwell on the injustice of that. It didn’t matter.
But he would talk to the lawyer. If the insurance company didn’t pay, he’d accept whatever help the mutual aid fund could offer. And then he’d contribute as much as he could to it every month for the rest of his life.