A few months later, Wayne is still undergoing physical therapy several times a week as he struggles to regain full use of his hand and arm. He has been able to stick to his vow to step back as Lizzie works at the shop. But it hasn’t been easy for him—he has had several struggles to accept her words at face value.
Every so often, Wayne got flashbacks and memories of his mamm, who had worked as a baker in their Old Order Amish community before leaving his daed. The day she left was etched as clear as crystal in his memory. He had been no more than twelve years old. Running into the house from school, he stopped cold. The kitchen was dark, the stove cold. Spinning around, he ran around all the rooms upstairs and downstairs, looking for her. “Mamm? Mamm? Mamm! Where are you?” It was only when he ran to the barn to ask his daed where mamm was that he found out. “Wayne, your mamm cleaned out our bank account and left. She is gone. And she is not coming back!” Wayne remembered that his daed’s voice had been sharp with anger and even some fear. He had backed up from his daed, fearful of his anger—even at that young age, he had witnessed heart-searing scenes that no child should ever have to experience. His daed, smacking his mamm on the face. Pushing her against the kitchen sink and cabinets, yelling in her face. Seeing his mamm, tears shiny on her face as she sported yet another black eye or split lip.
Wayne also remembered the times he and his siblings cowered upstairs in their rooms after bedtime, trying not to listen to their daed’s shouts at their mamm. Hearing her scream, beg and cry out as her husband hit and pushed her. All of this had damaging effects on Wayne and all of his siblings. All of his sisters had married abusive men who refused to allow them to have any say in whether they worked outside the home or not. Wayne saw them come to family gatherings, huge with pregnancy, sporting mysterious injuries that they tried to pass off as accidents or clumsiness.
Coming back to the present day, Wayne drew in a shaky breath and opened his eyes. Gott, please help me to stop abusing her! For now, he was sincere in his desire to become a better, more loving husband.
Even though Wayne bore a dim knowledge that what his daed had done to his mamm was abuse, he was unable to explicitly admit it to himself. All the years that he continued to live under his daed’s roof, he silently accepted his daed’s condemnation of his mamm, nodding when his daed denounced her as a bad woman. Wayne and his siblings had never heard from or seen her again. They didn’t know if she was still alive, where she was if she still lived or what she was doing.
Most mornings or afternoons, seeing Lizzie and Leora leaving for The Quilt Place, Wayne was grateful for the added money their work brought into their home. If he heard old, fear-inducing voices, he did all he could to shake them out of his mind, staying as focused as he could on the benefits of Lizzie’s and Leora’s employment. Nee! Get behind me, Satan! They are only doing good for our family. Our bills are paid. We have managed to pay off the bank note for my newest carpentry equipment. On these days, Wayne would take out the savings account book and remind himself that almost everything Lizzie and Leora earned was going into their accounts. Leora was managing to save a tidy sum for herself as well. Looking at the growing numbers helped Wayne to reorient himself in reality.
On his way home from one of his three-times-weekly physical therapy sessions, sitting in the hired driver’s car, Wayne grimaced at the pain he felt from the session just past.
“So, how’s your arm? Are you doing your exercises every day?”
“Ja, Kevin, I am. But it hurts!”
“Yeah, I understand. I wrenched my back a few years before I retired. My doc ordered physical therapy for me and it was mandatory for me before I was allowed to report back as a paramedic. I had to keep in mind that, as long as I did my exercises exactly as my therapist showed me, that pain was good. I was strengthening my muscles. What kinds of exercises do you have?”
“Strengthening and stretching. I have to squeeze a little tennis ball. Using my hand and arm. . . Kevin, that hurts!”
“I get you there. Yeah, I sure do. But just let your therapist know if any pain doesn’t feel right. Do you use heat or ice after your sessions? Take anything for it?”
“Ja, for the heat and ice. I’m allowed to take ibuprofen or acetaminophen, but that’s all. My doctor only wanted me to take the real powerful painkillers for two or three weeks.”
“Those are pretty strong and you can get in trouble with those. Just keep doing what you’re doing. I can see that you’re getting more movement back in your arm and hand.”
“Denki. I will. Here’s what I owe you for today. Will you be able to pick me up on Friday?”
“Unfortunately, no. I told my buddy about you. His name’s Andy. He drives a Ford F-150, dark blue. He’ll pick you up at eight-thirty on Friday and bring you home. But I’ll be back as usual on Monday.”
“Ah, okay. Denki! I will look for him then.” Getting out of the car, Wayne shut the door and went into his house, unaware that on Friday, his whole outlook would change.