“Wife, you’re the one who’s been pushing this hyperactive thing with him!”
“Ben, I know! I just thought that as bad as it was storming last night, it would continue. I wanted to give myself an evening away from having to make him do his homework. It’s stressful for him and me.”
“Well, he’s just going to have to accept the zero for not doing whatever he had to turn in. And you’d better not make any fuss about it.” Ben let go of his suspender long enough to shake his finger at Barbara.
Barbara growled at her husband and, leaving their bedroom, got the children up and started making breakfast.
“But Mam! My homework’s not done! I can’t go to school!” Michael was scared—their teacher was strict.
“Michael, I gave you a chance last night to show me that you could do the work without my sitting next to you. If you couldn’t do it, maybe accepting your teacher’s anger and getting a bad grade for today’s homework will teach you a gut lesson. Now, sit down. Breakfast is hot and the ride to school will be downright cold.”
Hurrying, Barbara spooned hot oatmeal into everyone’s bowls, then served bacon and scrambled eggs, along with hot chocolate. When everyone had finished, she rinsed the dishes and, hurrying everyone into their coats, took them outside to the barn. After hitching the horses to the buggy—a chore Ben normally did for her—she took the kinder to school.
“Will school be held all day long today?” Barbara asked the teacher.
“It should, but if you hear the bell earlier, come and pick them up.”
“Denki. Oh, Michael only did part of his homework. I had him working on it last night, but I thought that if school would be stormed out, he could work on it at home today.”
“I understand. He’ll do it in class today and take a lowered grade.”
“Denki. I understand.” Hurrying so she could get out of the cold, Barbara went straight home. As she worked around the house, she developed her plan to keep Emma weak. She hoped her plan would cause people to stop supporting her as well. Right now, everyone thinks Emma’s some kind of saint for working so hard to lose weight. She’s gotten more popular because of that—and she’s also getting an attitude. I don’t like that, so I’m going to bring her down a few pegs.
As she ironed clothing, Barbara decided that her idea of invoking Ben’s name in stopping Emma was a good one. Her only question was how to do it. She allowed her mind to roam and free-associate as she tried to develop a plot to bring Emma down.
She isn’t seeing anyone, although it looks like Jacob likes her. How? She’s fat! She has rolls everywhere...although those are disappearing. Everyone, just everyone, supports her! Barbara wouldn’t admit that her anger stemmed from jealousy. I just need to create the perfect situation so it looks like Emma tried to make Ben do something sinful with her. I’ll look like the hurt wife and everyone will— She started as she heard the back door slamming.
“Barbara! Barbara!”
“Gut heavens, Ben, what is it?”
“Didn’t you hear the schoolhouse bell twenty minutes ago? It’s snowing again! Hurry and we’ll go get the kinder together.” Ben stomped out of the house.
Barbara was stilled, realizing she had been so deep into her planning that she hadn’t heard the bell ringing. Grabbing her cape and scarf, she bundled up and hurried to the buggy. She clambered in without Ben’s help—he was closing and locking the barn door.
A few minutes later, they pulled into the schoolyard. Barbara jumped out of the buggy and hurried into the schoolroom.
“There you are! You were the one who asked me about early dismissal, and you’re the last one to show up, twenty minutes late! I only hope I can make it home without going off the road.” The teacher pulled her belongings together, put on her scarf and coat and opened the door with stiff, jerky moves.
Ooh, I goofed up in a huge way. Barbara sighed. “I am so sorry I missed the bell ringing. I was taking care of chores and just got caught up in them.”
“All right. You’re forgiven, but please make sure it doesn’t happen again!”
“Ja, I will. Kinder, hurry. It’s very cold and I am so grateful to your teacher for not making you walk home.” Looking around, Barbara realized the snowfall had gotten heavier. She could see their buggy, but it was hard.
“We’re following her home to make sure she doesn’t have an accident.” Ben signaled the teacher to drive on ahead.
Barbara sat quietly in the front seat, feeling just as small as she deserved to feel. She realized that Ben was driving very slowly, trying to stay in the ruts that other buggy wheels had already made. Her natural impatience wanted to take over. Instinctively, she realized she shouldn’t say anything or she would earn Ben’s wrath.
Peering through the thick snow, she found she was praying the teacher would get home safely. I’m just glad she’s on our way home. Finally, a long, cold thirty minutes later, they were at home. “Kinder, get straight into the house. Michael, you and I are going to work together on your homework for tomorrow. Annie, sit down and do your homework quietly. I’d like to have all your work done by the time I start working on supper.”
“Mam, are we going to school tomorrow? Teacher said that if it’s like it is today, we won’t.” Michael was quiet, not knowing how to respond to his mam.
“Do you have a note or anything?”
Fumbling through his books, Michael produced a rag-eared note handwritten by the teacher: If the weather is as bad tomorrow as it is today, we will not have school. Make sure you finish your homework so it is ready to hand in when we meet again.
Looking at the wall clock, Barbara estimated how much time she would have to supervise Michael. “Michael, I’m going to sit next to you. I want you to do your work independently. You know this, because you’ve learned it. Just pay attention to that and don’t worry about anything but your work.”
Fifteen minutes later—a record for Michael—he got bored. “Mam, can I do something else? I promise I’ll get this done later.”
“Nee. You don’t have very much left. Just two spelling words and three math problems. Get them done now.”
Thirty minutes later, Michael had finally finished his work. Barbara gave all the kinder a snack of cookies and milk, then started supper.
***
After the back-to-back storms had ended, Emma was able to go to her re-scheduled doctor’s appointment. “So, what kind of progress have I made?”
“I am very pleased. You’ve made tremendous progress. Your knee is stronger and the bone in your leg has knit sufficiently that we can switch you from the crutches to a cane. Kathy is going to begin teaching you about moving around on a limb that was recently injured.”
Emma was excited. “What about all the snow?”
“As much as you can, stay inside for now. I know that’s hard, given that Christmas is just around the corner. Practice walking inside and if the porch, at least, is snow-free, there too.”
With these instructions, Emma moved around carefully. When she and her parents got home, she readily accepted their support, moving from the front yard to the porch, then to the front door.
“It’s a gut thing you have an appointment with your therapist tomorrow because I have no idea how to help you get around on the cane.” John stepped back outside, eager to be away from the possibility that he could have caused his daughter to be hurt again.
“Don’t mind him. He’s always been tetchy when it comes to hurt and injury for you kinder.” Ann brought two cups of yogurt over to the table so they could enjoy a nutritious snack.
“I know. I’m not hurt. I am ready to make progress, though!” Dipping her spoon in the yogurt, she enjoyed the creamy peach taste.
“Do you know how much weight you’ve lost?”
“Nee. I haven’t been able to weigh myself because of the cast on my foot. I have lost weight, though. It’s easier to pin my dresses closed. Much easier!”
“Ja! You look thinner! Make sure you ask Kathy about that.”
“I will. Mam, you and Dat look thinner. So does Abby.”
The front door blew open and Barbara came rushing in. “Mam! I can visit for a few minutes before going to pick up the kinder. I just needed to let you know that the psychologist sent her report back. Michael officially has Attention Hyperactivity...nee, Attention”—she checked the evaluation report—“Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. I’m going to her office tomorrow so we can talk about therapy. Hi, Emma.” Barbara leaned over and kissed Emma on the cheek, and then she scooped her finger into the yogurt and licked it off. “Mmm, this is gut.”
Emma chuckled. “Get some. It’s in the refrigerator. I’m fine. How do you feel about the diagnosis?”
Barbara sat down with her yogurt and a spoon. Sighing, she thought. “Part of me is sad and part is relieved. I don’t want him to have anything wrong with him. Now, he has what can be called a mental illness—or a mental condition. It’s going to affect him all his life, depending on how well he learns to handle it. At least, now I know. His excessive activity levels do come from how his brain works.”
Emma felt bad for the family. “Barbara, I feel bad. I really do. At the same time, like you, I’m glad you have an explanation. Did the letter or evaluation say what kind of treatment he would get?”
Barbara leafed through the few pages of the report. “Er, she wants to talk about a combination of medication and talk therapy, whatever that is. Here, let me read: ‘I’d like to see him every three months and evaluate how he’s doing. For the first few years, I want to keep him on medication for nine months out of the year and give him a “medication vacation” during the summer break.’ Here’s the part about talk therapy: ‘This is just Michael discussing how he feels without medication and learning new skills to cope with his need to move and act without thinking. Over time, I expect that he would be able to learn how to use the coping skills enough that, eventually, we can wean him from medication.’
Emma thought. “Well, that sounds gut. Seriously. It’ll be such a relief for you to be able to visit or get work done without worry about something he might do.”
“You understand!” Barbara was stunned.
“Ja, why wouldn’t I? Barbara, I’m not a mam, but I know from watching our mam and helping her out that she had a lot of responsibility. You do, too. So does Abby and any other mam in our community. When a child has problems, it’s even harder. Any time you need my support, let me know. Even though I’m still limited in what I can do, I’ll do whatever I can—as long as it doesn’t involve chasing Michael around.”
Barbara understood exactly what Emma was saying. In the spirit of their rare closeness, she knew Emma didn’t mean anything bad by what she said. “Denki, sister. I may need to call on you.”
After Barbara had gone home, Emma chopped and peeled vegetables as she helped Ann make supper. As she did, she thought of the conversation she and Barbara had had. “Mam, what did you think of Michael’s diagnosis?”
Ann stirred the vegetables and checked the progress of the grilled chicken. “Well, I’m not happy to hear he has that problem. But I am happy to find that they know what it is and that there are solutions. I only pray they’ll take advantage of everything they can for him.”
Emma nodded and sighed. “Ja, me too. Barbara is so proud, even though she tries to hide it. She doesn’t want to admit to anyone that one of her kinder is less than perfect.”
Normally, Ann would have chided Emma for her harshness, but in this instance, she knew she was right. “Ja. She is. I only hope she won’t let her preferences get in the way of treatment for her son.”
***
The next morning, Jacob stopped by the house at the same time as Kathy. “Do you mind if I sit in on Emma’s therapy?”
“No problem! If you can help her with her new exercises, that would be great.”
Jacob smiled. “I’d be happy to.” He held the door open for the therapist.
“Good morning! You are making progress! I have your new cane here and we’re going to work on putting some weight on your injured leg.”
Emma was nervous. Standing with the crutches, she leaned against the side of the couch. “How do I do this?”
“Carefully...” Kathy took Emma through her new exercises, ensuring that her patient put only a small amount of her weight on her knee and leg.
By the end of the therapy session, Emma was perspiring and panting. Her leg virtually screamed with pain. Sitting down, she exhaled and inhaled. Placing her hand over her knee, she tried to massage the pain away.
“Oh, yes, you will have some pain. Do you have an ice pack?”
“Nee, I don’t.” Ann was flummoxed.
“If you have plastic sandwich bags and rubbing alcohol, I can make up a simple ice pack for you right now.”
Ann got the requested items.
“I’m going to mix plain water with a cup of alcohol and pour them into the first sandwich bag. I like to put a second sandwich bag over the first one so you get less leakage. Freeze it and put it on your knee. You’ll find that it’s flexible because of the alcohol in it. That’s what you want.” After ensuring that Emma was able to do her new exercises, she set up an appointment for two days away. “I’ll see you then.”
***
At home, Barbara was grateful that Ben would be away from the farm until suppertime. She spent all that day working on a gut plan to put Emma in her place.
Now, what can I do? I need to discredit her. After finishing the dishes and making the dessert for that night’s supper, Barbara had a brain flash. I can do that! Make it look as though Emma is making a move on my Ben! I just need to manipulate the situation so that she is alone with him at some social event. I need to think about this more, but it’s time to pick up the kinder from school first.