Chapter Eight

 

 

The next afternoon, Hal was delighted when she finally had a patient show up at the clinic. For some reason, when he walked in she felt she’d met the man before. Broad shouldered and medium built, he had kind blue eyes. His full head of sandy, bushy hair frayed out from under his straw hat, but he didn’t have a beard. That meant he wasn’t married.

Hal held out her hand to him. “Good afternoon. I’m Nurse Hal. What can I do for you?”

Hesitating, he stared at her before he shook her hand. Finally, he found his voice. “I am Samuel Nisley. This morning my arm I skinned. The sore keeps sticking to my sleeve.”

“Ouch! Sit down at the table. I’ll take a look at it.” As Samuel laid his arm on the table, Hal asked, “Have we met before?”

“We passed on the road once maybe,” Samuel said, his bright blue eyes twinkling with amusement.

Where she saw him came back to Hal. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “You were the one at the intersection that had such a good time watching John’s horse go in circles.”

“Yes.” Recollection of that moment made Samuel’s face crinkle into a smile. “I’m sorry I laughed at you. Looked like you could not guide the buggy very pretty good. It sort of went wvertzwaerrici in the road.” He noticed the questioning look on Hal’s face. “Sorry. Crosswise.”

“That was the horse’s idea, not mine,” Hal excused. She poured saline solution on the shirt sleeve to soften up the dried stained area stuck to the skin tear. In a minute, the shirt should come loose easier.

“Why did you not say whoa?” Samuel asked.

“That was John’s fault. He said let the horse do the driving for me. I thought Ben would know what he was supposed to do. Guess not, huh?” She grinned then went to work on his arm. Hal slowly and carefully rolled the light blue shirt sleeve up and pulled the material away from the skin tear. “That is a large tear. It’s a good thing you came. How did you do this?”

Samuel said sheepishly, “Tripped and fell into the barn door. Caught my arm on a hinge.”

“You really should have a tetanus shot to prevent lockjaw. You’ll have to go to a doctor for the shot,” Hal said, setting her supplies on the table. Though the large area of puckered skin had started to dry, she worked the skin gently back over the raw area with a Q tip. After she placed butterfly strips along the torn edge, she instructed, “I’m putting gauze loosely on the area so you don’t get it dirty. The gauze should be changed every day for a few days. At night, you can leave it off to let the area air. If you see redness around the wound, come back.”

Suddenly from behind her, Emma hissed, “Hallie, Hallie.”

Hal looked over her shoulder to see why the girl sounded like a tire with a slow leak.

Emma’s head was stuck in the clinic doorway. She whispered, “I wanted to warn you Stella Strutt is here.”

Outside, heavy footsteps pounded up the steps. Hal stiffened at the sound, but she kept working on the bandage. She glanced at her patient’s face. Samuel was watching her much too close to her liking. On top of facing a disagreeable, unlikeable old woman much too often to suit her, she now had the scrutiny of a patient. A blind man could have sensed she was uneasy about being anywhere near Stella. She could only hope this visit in front of Samuel went well. The door burst open. The heavy set, black, foreboding form, with what seemed to be a permanent scowl plastered on her face, filled the opening. At least, Hal couldn't remember ever seeing a pleasant expression on that woman's face.

Trying to shove the feeling of dread back that crossed her face, Hal cleared her throat and made her voice sound welcoming. “Please come in, Stella.”

“Ouch,” Samuel utter under his breath.

Hal turned her attention to her patient. “I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”

He grimaced. “You are getting the tape a little tight on the bandage. Could you loosen it up once?”

Hal felt bad when she looked at the paper tape wound in layers tightly around Samuel’s arm. The man’s hand had already turned pink. Quickly, Hal cut the tape, threw away the gauze and started over. This time she concentrated on what she was doing. “I’m so sorry, Samuel. Is this better?” She asked, checking the tape and the color of his hand.

Samuel clasped Hal’s hand in his strong, large, calloused one. He darted a glance at Stella’s back and whispered, “I understand. We all get the jitters at some time or other in our life.”

“Thank you,” Hal said softly as she looked over her shoulder in search of Emma. The clinic door was closed. Emma, like a rat leaving the danger of a sinking battleship, had disappeared.

Stella’s wide, heavy soled, black oxfords pounded the floor as she walked across the room. Ignoring Hal, she took a broad stance in front of the farmer. “Samuel Nisley, nice to see you.”

“Been awhile,” he said politely.

“Yes. Came to see what this clinic looked like. Is all the talk at church meetings.” She turned her back to Hal and scrutinized the room, her arms folded over her ample chest.

Stella’s swelled, dimpled feet spilled over her shoes. How did the woman walk on those painful feet? Trying to be sympathetic, Hal said, “Mrs. Strutt, you’re welcome to sit down and visit.”

From outside came the roar of a truck motor. Patches gave his company’s here bark. Hal heard the ominous sound made by screeching tires and the ping of flying gravel scattering about. That was followed by a long, loud, pain filled yelp.

If those scary sounds weren’t enough, Daniel’s piercing scream filled Hal with fear.

The scream was followed by Noah’s scared voice crying, “Mama Hal. Mama Hal.”

Hal yanked the door open. She ran out on the porch with Samuel and Stella right behind her. The milk truck was parked by the barn with the cab door open. The driver, a heavy set middle aged man, sat on the truck step holding his head in his hands. Had he hit one of the boys?

Noah and Daniel ran to her. She met them halfway in the driveway. “What’s wrong?” Hal called. She grabbed each of them by a shoulder, inspecting them. “Are you all right?”

Daniel launched himself at her as he wailed, “Mama Hal, the milkman ran over our dog.” He pointed to Patches. That’s when Hal saw him. Her stomach turned over at the sight. The dog’s motionless, crumpled body lay in a bloody pile just behind the milk truck’s front tire.

Her heart thumping, Hal walked with the boys to look at the dog. It was clear there wasn’t anything to be done for Patches. He was already gone. She glanced at the driver. The poor man looked so miserable. She whispered, “Noah and Daniel, this was an accident. Look at the driver. He feels as bad as you do.”

As if he realized their whispers were about him, the driver looked up and into their grieving eyes. “I’m really sorry about this, boys. Your dog came out of nowhere. I couldn’t stop quick enough,” he bemoaned. His eyes glimmered with moisture.

Noah took a deep breath. “We know you could not help it, Mr. Johnson.”

“For days now, Patches has been running at my car when I drive in. I’ve been afraid it would be me that hit him” said Hal, commiserating with the milkman. “We’re sorry it had to happen to you.”

As the milkman said he appreciated Hal and the boys understanding, Samuel and Emma walked up behind her. Her hand at her throat, Emma squatted down to look at Patches.

Samuel said solemnly, “I am leaving now.”

Hal wiped at the tears spilling down her cheeks. “Don’t forget you should go to the doctor for a tetanus shot. Oh, and be sure to let me or Emma check your arm if it looks red.”

Seeing how upset Hal and the children were, Samuel’s mind wasn’t on his arm. “Where is John today?” His voice was filled with concern.

Only half listening, Hal’s mind was on how to help the boys take in the loss of their dog. She said abstractly, “If he isn’t in the field, he’s doing chores at Roseanna Miller’s farm. He does her milking now that her husband has passed away.”

Hal knelt beside Patches. She felt the rocks poke through her blue jeans and dig into her knees. That pain didn’t begin to describe the way she felt inside when she looked at the dog’s lifeless body. Hal scooped him up in her arms and held him close. By the time she walked over to lay the dog gently down in the grassy shade by the barn, Samuel was leaving. Hal watched the Amish man turn his buggy around and head out of the driveway.

Stella Strutt’s wide soled shoes thudded as she stepped heavily, coming down the porch steps. The woman heaved herself into her buggy and waited her turn to leave.

Hal said to the children, “Let’s go sit on the porch for a moment and catch our breath. We need to talk about this.”

“Hallie, you have blood all over your clothes,” stated Emma, her eyes tearful.

Licking her dry lips, Hal looked down at her blouse. “I don’t mind.”

As they started toward the house, Stella Strutt pulled away. Hal was glad that woman left. It was a relief not to have to deal with the difficult woman at a time like this. She couldn’t handle the affect Patches death was having on her and the children and Stella Strutt at the same time. That would have been too much to bear.

The four of them lined up on the top porch step. Tears rolled down Noah and Daniel’s faces. Emma looked sad. They hugged their knees and eyed the black and white heap by the barn.

Hal had to do something to help them. “We have to have a funeral for Patches. Don’t you think?”

“Yes,” Daniel said, making a swipe under his nose with his sleeve.

Emma asked, “Where can we bury Patches?”

Noah said solemnly, “In the picnic grove.”

“Wonderful idea.” Hal studied her bloody hands. “First, I have to wash up a bit. We have a funeral to plan.”

In the kitchen, she rubbed her hands together in the wash pan, staining the water red. After she got rid of the bloody liquid out the back door, she dumped another dipper in the empty pan. This time she used a wash cloth to dab at her blouse. All the water did was smear the blood, making the wet spots bigger and brighter. Leaning against the counter for support, Hal dried her hands. She bit her lower lip, trying not to cry. It wouldn’t do the children any good to see her lose it. As the adult she had to be the strong one. She had peroxide in the clinic. Pouring some of that on the blouse would fade the blood away.

“Nurse Hal, come help us quick,” Daniel cried. His emotional voice came from a distance.

“No, do not take Patches,” Noah wailed.

“Now what?” She rushed out the door.

Emma hugged the porch post with a tight grip. She sagged at the knees as if she was too weak to stand up. Out in the driveway, Noah groaned loudly. Beside him, Daniel, hands over his face, sobbed hard again.

Hal ran to them. “What’s wrong?”

The boys pointed toward the barn. The Lapp buggy was parked where the milk truck had been. At first sight, Hal felt relief that John was home. Then he stepped from behind the horse and buggy. Her relief turned to anger.

John had picked up the dog. He held Patches upside down. The limp dog dangled from his hand by the back legs. As John moved away from the barn, blood ran from the dog’s nose and mouth, turning the grass red.

“Mama Hal, Dad is taking Patches away,” Daniel whimpered.

The little boy’s voice was enough to push Hal into action. She rushed across the driveway. Noah was on one side and Daniel on the other, trouping along with her. Emma closed the ranks behind as the four of them circled out around John’s buggy. The horse’s head came up. His ears twitched back as they rushed by him. The animal gave them a wild-eyed look and fidgeted in his traces.

“John, where are you going with our dog?” Hal demanded, making sure to keep her voice low. She had learned one lesson lately. She didn’t want to excite the horse any more than he already was.

As his family and Hal confronted him, John looked surprised and wary. “Going to get rid of him.”

“Get rid of him?” Hal repeated shrilly.

“Yes, throw him in the gully back of the pasture.”

Emma gasped. Her hands flew to her pale face.

“No,” Daniel whimpered, grabbing Hal’s hand.

“Stop him, Nurse Hal,” Noah said hoarsely.

John looked from one to the other, confused by their reaction. He said flatly, “Kids, the dog’s dead.”

“You just can’t throw our dog away,” Hal said, tears running down her face. She held her hands out to take the dog from him.“Give Patches to me.”

“You will get ----.” He stopped when his eyes focused on her blouse. He realized it was too late to warn her about getting blood on her clothes. Shaking his head in bewilderment, John gently laid Patches in her arms as he repeated softly, “He’s dead, Hal. You can not make him better.”

“We know that. The children and I are going to have a funeral for him. We want to bury him,” Hal explained. “You can’t just throw Patches in a ditch and leave him for the coyotes to eat. What are you doing home this time of day anyway?”

A painful look covered John’s face. “Samuel Nisley came to the Miller farm. He told me what happened. He said you and the children needed me. He’s milking Roseanna’s cows tonight.”

“Oh,” Hal said in a small voice. She’d been right about Samuel. He was a kind man. She had seen it in his eyes. Her tone stung John like rusted barbed wire, deeply biting into his soul. Rather than be glad of her ability to hurt him, she felt worse that she had spoken before she thought. The children needed their father right now. She needed him. But then she had needed him for days that he hadn’t been around. That didn’t give her the right to be spiteful to him. She shouldn't have taken out her sadness about Patches on him.

She looked somewhere over John’s shoulder and asked, “In that case, do you want to come to Patches’s funeral?”

John looked at each of the sad faces in front of him with a beleaguered expression in his eyes. “Yes, I am part of this family, too.”

“Please, get a shovel. We’re going to the picnic grove,” Hal ordered as she turned on her heels. “Emma, bring an old towel or sheet to use for a shroud. Noah, run ahead and pick us out a burial site.”

Supper was strained. No one was hungry. John’s words kept running over and over in Hal’s mind. I am part of this family, too. His feelings had been hurt by her surprised reaction to his coming home early from the Miller farm. Not that the children noticed. They were too upset over the death of their dog. Well, she knew how they felt. She was going to miss Patches as much as they did.

After kitchen cleanup, Hal had it in her mind to tell John she was leaving. She found he had fallen asleep in his rocker while reading his bible. She really didn’t want to wake him. Right now she wasn’t fit company. She felt guilty about snapping at him earlier. The main thing was he was home, and the children had their father tonight. They didn’t need her. She slipped quietly across the living room so she wouldn’t wake John.

Hal wondered how she’d gotten herself so far down in the dumps? What started out as a tiny seed of discontent about John spending too much time with Roseanna had bloomed into the ugliest of grasshopper eaten thistles. She hated this feeling of distrust that nagged her about John. She wanted to believe he didn’t deserve the way she was treating him.

Hal’s hand was on the cold, metal doorknob.

“Whoa! I want to talk to you,” John snapped.

The chilly feel of that metal matched John’s icy voice. By the time she turned around, John was removing his bible from his lap and one of Emma’s potholders. Hal glanced toward the kitchen door, but Emma was out of sight. As he crossed the room, John’s expression was unreadable. Hal, not talking, not moving, watched him come with an ominous feeling that she was in trouble.

“I want to talk to you alone before you leave. Come out on the porch with me.” He held the door open for her. Hal sat down on edge of the porch and John joined her. He steepled his fingers together and looked toward the barn. “You would have left without waking me.”

“Yes, I know how tired you are. Besides, I felt bad for having snapped at you this afternoon. I am sorry I did that,” Hal apologized.

“Your tone just made me sure that we need to discuss what is wrong between us. This will not be the last time I help my neighbors in times of need. I know that they would do the same for me. This is the way we live our lives. Between chores, farming and doing my part to help neighbors, my days are filled. You have to realize my way of life will not change because you are a part of it. You have to be the one to adjust. Work alongside me. Take up the slack in this family when I am not here and always trust me as I trust you. If you can not do that, a marriage between us will not work,” he said plainly. His gaze fastened on her face.

“I want to marry you,” Hal said sincerely.

“Good. I fear that being an Amish wife will not be easy for you. We believe Christ is the head of man, and man is the head of woman. Men assume the responsibility that God has placed on their shoulders as head of the family to make all decisions. Not to accept that responsibility is to lie down on my job, to fail God’s will. Do you understand me?” John asked firmly.

Hal’s eyes narrowed. “We have a problem! Are you telling me you are the boss about everything in the marriage. I am to obey your every wish and can’t think for myself?”

“That is our way,” John said with a grimace. “Men go through the doors first and are thought of first about everything before their wives and children.”

“I wasn’t brought up that way. I expect to be free to express my opinions. Your way sets women back a century. I don’t know if I can agree to this,” Hal said with uncertainty.

John’s ultimatum was clear. “If you agree to convert to Amish, you must accept all of our ways. You must decide to live our way before we marry. If you can not agree, we can not marry.”

“Can I have a few days to think about this?”

“Yes, think and be sure about what is right for you, Hal. I do not want another unhappy wife again,” he said. He stood and held his hand out to help her up. “I will walk you to your car.”

“Is that permitted?” Hal asked sarcastically.

John eyed her as he said flatly, “If it is what I choose to do.”

“Well, tonight I think I will go alone to my car. We’re not married yet. It is what I choose to do. Good night,” Hal said flippantly as she marched away from him.