CHAPTER 8

“What? If I know, I’ll be able to defend myself.” Emma leaned forward.

“She’s afraid of your weighing less than she does. You’re very close to that, if you haven’t already fallen below her current weight. She doesn’t want you to weigh less than she does. I’m afraid she wants to turn this into a competition. That’s not healthy.”

“Mam, more and more, I feel like she is trying to prove to herself and everyone here that she is better than me.”

Ann nodded. “I want to think about this for a while. If I come to the same conclusion, we’ll go talk to the bishop again.”

Emma nodded, feeling as though they had begun to expose Barbara’s real motives—but as though something even worse lurked under that surface. “I’m going to bed. I have an early day at work tomorrow.”

“Good night. I’ll see you in the morning.”

In her room, Emma put her nightgown on. She wished she could rely on a full-length mirror to see her progress. But she knew that was forbidden. Instead, she took one of her old dresses, found the original places where she used to pin the straight pins. Wrapping the dress around her, she held the fabric out and visually measured how many inches she had lost.

She put herself into Barbara’s mind and began to understand what she was thinking of. She sees me becoming so much smaller. She’s always been competitive with me, even though she is such a pretty woman. Now, I weigh about what she weighs, and if I keep making this kind of progress, I’m going to weigh less than she does.

Emma sat on her bed, continuing to think. She wants to make this an unhealthy competition. And I’m not going to play along. Emma knew she was doing well, following her doctors’ orders. She wasn’t going to endanger her health any more than she had before she had her bariatric surgery.

Setting the old dress aside, she sighed and walked to the window. Looking out, she tried to regain her normal calm. Closing her eyes, she rested her head against the cold glass. Gott, please tell us if we are on the right track. I feel uneasy. I feel like my sister is planning something else to hurt me, but I don’t want to say anything else. Please, help me.

After brushing her teeth, Emma went to bed. It took a long time for sleep to come.

***

After taking Jeb to Abby’s house, Barbara returned home and got busy on the quilt. She had exaggerated the amount of work remaining to be done. All she needed to do was finish sewing on the binding. That was done in less than an hour. Once it was done, she folded the quilt and zipped it into the special bags she used when she sold her quilts to customers.

Making sure the doors were securely locked, she poured a cup of coffee and indulged herself in two cookies. I need to weigh myself. I’ll go to the doctor’s office tomorrow and see what I weigh, and then I’ll set a goal of three or five pounds a week. I will lose weight faster than Emma does.

Finishing the cookies, she closed her eyes and rejoiced in the virtuous feeling she got in self-denial. Since I can no longer sabotage her weight loss without hurting my parents, I’m going to have to go on ahead with my plan to make her reputation dirt around here. I am going to say that she abused one of my children. It should be Michael. He is always banging himself or getting a cut somehow. I can use that and accuse her of abusing him physically. She’ll be brought before the community again. This time, I am going to have a foolproof story that no one can poke a straight pin through!

Grabbing a pencil and notepad, she began to make quick notes, coming up with and discarding ideas or keeping them. Hearing the alarm chime, she stuck the notepad deep into her notions cart, knowing that nobody would find it in there. Then, hurrying to pick up the kinder at school and at Abby’s, she decided what would be for supper.

***

“Good morning, Emma, how are you?” The cheery nurse swept into the room where Emma waited. “Let’s get your latest weight. Now, I begin to caution patients at this point that their weight loss may slow down. You’ve been losing, on average, two to three pounds per week. You may continue on this trend or you may slow down to about one to two pounds per week. That’s normal and you shouldn’t let it alarm you, especially if you’re sticking to your prescribed diet. Do you have your food diary?”

Emma handed it over and the nurse went through each page and meal. “Good! I like seeing that you’re eating a good variety of foods and even allowing yourself an occasional ‘cheat.’ What have you noticed about high carbohydrate lately?”

Emma grimaced. “Bleh! They taste too heavy for me! And, after I’ve eaten something, my stomach feels... I don’t know, squirmy, like I want to be sick.”

“Have you gotten sick after eating one of those foods?”

“The last time was about a month or six weeks after I had my surgery. My...my sister has been resisting my weight loss goals and she gave me a roast beef sandwich with a thick bun. I told her what would happen and she thought I was just making an excuse. I was so sick! My mam and dat thought they would have to take me to the emergency room until I finally stopped vomiting.”

“Ah, so you know that if you eat something like that, your stomach will reject it. Is she more accepting of your weight loss now?”

“She seems to be...but I can’t help feeling like she is up to something new. She tried to find out just how much weight I lost. Something is telling me not to tell her that I’ve lost nearly one hundred pounds.”

“Follow your instincts. Just put it on us, if you need. We can take it. Now, let’s get your newest weight. Robe off!”

Emma slipped the robe off, standing on the scale in only her bra and underpants. She closed her eyes, waiting to see what she had lost.

“Well! Very good! You’ve lost one hundred and two pounds! You have about forty-eight to go, unless you want to lose more.”

Emma gasped and reared back. The nurse was ready for this and she grabbed Emma’s arms. “Oh, my! I tried on some of my old dresses the other night to estimate how many inches I’ve lost around my waist.”

“Let’s find out for sure.” After measuring Emma’s waist, bust, arms, hips, thighs and calves, she wrote down the new numbers. “Okay, on average, you’ve lost about one more inch in each area since your last visit. How do you feel?”

“Right now? Like I could float off the ground! This is the smallest I’ve been since I finished school!”

“How is your breathing?”

“I haven’t had to use my inhaler more than once a day now for...oh, maybe two months. I feel so much better, and I can walk longer distances now.”

“Do you have your blood sugar readings?”

Rummaging through her handbag, Emma brought out the small notebook, giving it to the nurse.

“Okay, this is looking good. Looking at your numbers for the past couple weeks, though, they do seem low. I’m going to show these to the doctor so he can verify that or rule it out. He should be in soon. Go ahead and put your robe back on.”

Ten minutes later, the surgeon knocked on the door and entered. “Emma, you are doing very well. Looking at your blood sugar readings, they are on the low side. Have you felt lightheaded or dizzy at any time?”

“Nee, not really. Well, maybe about a week ago. But I sat down and ate an apple.”

“Good. I’m going to adjust your medications...hmm. You’re taking the lowest doseon one medication already. I’m going to consult with your endocrinologist and see what she says. She may decide to take you off that medication. We’ll try you on just one medication for the next few weeks if she agrees to do so. I want you to keep track of your blood sugar readings and how you feel. It looks like your diabetes may have resolved itself with your diet change and weight loss—over one hundred pounds!” A knock sounded on the door and the endocrinologist came in.

“Emma, I am so proud of you! You are doing such a wonderful job! I was looking at your blood sugar numbers and your A1C. I think we need to discontinue one of your medications and continue the dosage of your second med. We’re taking you off the metformin. You’ll continue with Invokana for now, but I want to monitor how well you do with just that medication. You may be able to stop taking it before long. Have you felt any symptoms of hypoglycemia lately?”

Emma thought back. “Late last week, I was dizzy and grouchy, so I ate some fruit. I felt better shortly after, so...” She pursed her lips, letting out a slow breath of excitement. “So my surgery and weight loss are working, right?”

“Definitely!” The endocrinologist grinned at her.

At this point, Emma’s ENT specialist came in. He was reading the results of her breath test and nodding. Looking up, he gave her a thumbs up signal. “Emma, I like these numbers! Because your asthma was instigated by your weight, I’m taking you off the long-acting medication. You’ll continue using your rescue inhaler as needed, and I’ll keep monitoring your status. Remember, if you encounter an asthma attack that doesn’t improve after using your inhaler, get yourself to the E.R. immediately.”

Emma shivered slightly and nodded. “Ja, I will.”

On the way home, she couldn’t restrain a wide grin. Realizing she probably looked like a loon, she wiped the grin off her face and went straight to the bakery. Getting out of the buggy, she realized she had forgotten to grab her cane. “Well, too late. All I can do is get down and reach in to grab it.” This proved to be easier than she anticipated. As she tiptoed to reach in, she realized her knee didn’t give her any twinges.

During her lunch break, Emma broke the good news to Elizabeth and her co-workers. “I’ve lost enough weight that one doctor took me off of one of my diabetes medications, and my ENT took me off of one of my inhalers. I just need to be careful of asthma attacks that don’t clear up after using albuterol.”

“Which you have with you, ja?” Elizabeth was watchful of all of her employees.

“Ja, right here.” Emma patted her apron, feeling the inhaler’s outline through the pocket.

***

That night at home, Emma was breaking the good news to her family when Barbara and her family came walking in. Seeing them, Emma decided she had to break this news to Barbara.

As Barbara heard about Emma’s improving physical condition, she seemed to rejoice wholeheartedly. “Oh, that is such wunderbaar news! Will you be off the medications in the future?”

“That’s my goal...” As Emma responded, her instincts were ringing loud bells at her. “Excuse me...” She walked into the pantry and grabbed the prepared vinegar-and-oil dressing she’d made earlier. She looked for a new box of crackers for the salad as well. She is angered. Ja, something is up. I’m telling her nothing else.

As the Lapps ate their supper, Barbara kept up a steady stream of bright chatter. “You all encouraged us to start diets as well. I don’t know how much I’ve lost, but I’m pinning my dresses in closer already. Emma, I’m sure that’s happened to you!”

“Ja, it has—to Mam and Abby as well. Have you noticed that Dat has also lost weight?” Emma tried desperately to take Barbara’s focus off of her. “They are also working hard to lose the weight and get healthy. How about the kinder?”

Barbara didn’t want to take the hint. She would momentarily answer everyone’s questions, then immediately begin peppering Emma with questions about her progress.

Finally, Emma had enough. “Barbara, I am so tired of talking just about myself. Ja, I’m making progress, but so are Dat and Mam! And I believe that will extend their lives.”

Finally, Barbara took the hint. Shortly after Emma’s outburst, she, Ben and the kinder left.

***

On the way home, Ben waited until he knew the kinder were almost asleep. Then, he lowered his head to Barbara’s ear and spoke. “Emma was very uncomfortable tonight. What were you doing in there?”

Barbara widened her eyes, looking at Ben. “I am just interested in how well she’s doing, husband. She looks wunderbaar, ja?” Without allowing him to respond, she kept talking. “I’m actually grateful that she got all of us to start thinking about our health.”

“Well, then thank her by not pestering her about exactly what her doctors tell her. She has the right to privacy.”

Barbara pressed her lips together tightly, not willing to say what she was thinking. Instead, she stayed quiet the rest of the way home.

“Okay, kinder. Your homework is done, so get ready for bed. School tomorrow!” After everyone was in bed, she went to her quilting room and began straightening it out. She didn’t trust herself not to talk to Ben this evening, so she decided it was best to isolate herself. As she did, her mind absently made more plans for how she would discredit Emma.

Closing the door, she noisily laid down some fabric bolts and wheeled around to the drawer that held her notebook. Making sure the door was locked, she quickly wrote the new ideas down. Hiding the notebook again, she rearranged the bolts. Sighing, she surveyed the now-neat quilting room and nodded once. Unlocking and opening the door, she walked to the large window and gazed outside.

Snow is finally melting. Gut! I want to plant the vegetable and flower seeds before long. She enjoyed thinking about her garden, and while her stomach felt empty, and she wanted to sneak some cookies, she also felt lighter having lost some weight. And Michael was doing so much better now. Maybe she was truly blessed. Maybe she didn't need to follow through on her plans.

But as soon as her thoughts drifted to Emma, they darkened. It was all Emma's fault, really. Before Emma was born, Barbara had been the best, the only daughter, the prettiest and the most loved. Now, in spite of having lived a righteous life, for the most part, she still came in second best. It wasn't fair. Her mind wandered to her plans for Emma. A slow, mean smile spread across her face, reflected in the dark window. She was unaware that, as Ben passed her workroom, he saw the reflection of her smile and was puzzled by it.

What is that look on her face all about? I’m going to have to remind her of what the bishop warned. She has to be stopped, whatever she has in mind.

Upstairs, Barbara removed her head covering and was removing her dress as Ben walked in.

“What?” She realized that Ben was standing in front of her, just looking at her.

“What are you thinking, wife? I saw that smile on your face a few minutes ago.”