Chapter Ten
Emily had made it known that for Amish patients without phones, official clinic appointments weren’t necessary. Some stopped by in person to schedule routine exams, and except for the occasional emergency, very few showed up before nine.
Willa made a point of arriving by eight o’clock. That extra hour gave her time to pay bills, order supplies, and add information to the computer files. Most days, Frannie seemed content to play quietly with the wooden trains and stuffed dolls in her playpen.
This was not one of those days.
She’d fidgeted and fussed half the night, thanks to new molars that were trying to break through. Willa tried everything from rubbing dampened gauze pads on the baby’s gums to letting her chomp on a raw carrot to filling her bottle with chamomile tea. The only thing that worked was bundling her into a thick quilt and rocking her in the big chair near the window.
Peripheral vision told her that, right now, Frannie was gnawing on the protective plastic that covered the playpen’s railing. She took care not to make eye contact, because that was sure to start the crying up, all over again.
She heard a soft thump, and knew that Frannie had decided to sit and look for something new to chew. After a few minutes of blessed silence, Willa risked a peek over her shoulder, and could barely contain her laughter.
“Now you sleep,” she whispered around a yawn. Enjoy it while it lasts . . . Letting Frannie doze for too long now meant forsaking an afternoon nap, and it could very well cause another restless night.
The mission-style wall clock said 8:15. She couldn’t allow herself to watch the steady to-and-fro motion of the pendulum for fear it would have the same effect as a hypnotist’s pocket watch. She could almost hear a bespectacled gent chanting past his thick mustache: You’re getting sleepy. You’re feeling very, very—
The door opened with a whoosh, and Willa tensed, hoping Frannie hadn’t heard the bell above it.
“Did I startle you?” Max said.
“No.” She nodded toward Frannie, snoozing contentedly in the playpen. “She was up half the night. I wish I could spare her the whole teething ordeal.”
“She will forget all about it once she sinks her teeth into a good cut of beef.”
Willa grinned, gestured toward the exam room. “I’m anxious to see how things are healing. Frannie was quite concerned,” she said as he settled onto the exam table. “If she said ‘Max boo-boo?’ once, she said it twenty times.”
He glanced toward the room across the hall, where Frannie and Rafe spent their at-the-clinic hours. “I am flattered. You told her not to worry . . .”
Willa donned a pair of surgical gloves. “I told her you were fine. Every. Single. Time.”
Max smiled, watching as she unwrapped the bandage. Once the stitched-up cut was exposed, he gave a satisfied nod. “Now you can say it for the last time.”
“It does look good, doesn’t it?”
“You sound surprised. That surprises me. You must know that you have natural skills.”
“I still have a lot to learn.”
“Emily said you’re studying online . . . how does that work?”
“Let me wrap this up again, and I’ll show you.” As she had two evenings ago, Willa used a cotton swab to spread antibiotic ointment over the sutures, covered them with a large gauze pad, and secured it with white adhesive tape. “Day after tomorrow, I think it’ll be safe to take off the dressing, let the wound get some air. And the day after that, come back and I’ll remove the stitches.” Just for fun, she sketched a tiny portrait of him on the tape.
“Say, that is a pretty good likeness,” he said, reaching for his billfold.
Willa held up a hand to stop him. “You paid the other night, remember?”
“But this is a new service . . .”
“No, not new. It’s part of the package. Sort of the way contractors work. When the job’s done, a customer might find a little something that needs attention. You wouldn’t add to the bill for that, right?”
Quiet laughter rumbled from his chest. “No, touch-ups are part of the package.”
He put the wallet away and she tossed her gloves into the biohazard bin, then led the way to the counter. It took just a few keystrokes to bring up the college website, followed by two clicks to reach her student page.
Waving him closer, Willa clicked a tab that said ASSIGNMENTS. “I read them, do what I’m told, and send the completed work back to the teacher, here . . .” She moved the mouse, until the little white arrow hovered over SEND. “If they have questions, or see that I didn’t quite understand something, they’ll leave me a note, right there.” Pointing, she indicated the NOTES label.
When she turned to face him, Willa realized that he stood nearly shoulder to shoulder with her. Leaning over the keyboard, eyes riveted to the screen, he watched every move she made.
“Fascinating.”
“You aren’t using a computer at work?”
“Dan thought it a waste of time and money.”
She signed out of the school’s page and clicked a key that brought back the clinic’s screen saver. “He’s right ... and wrong. It can cost anywhere from a few hundred to a few thousand dollars to buy one of these babies. And getting started can be time-consuming. But once you invested in the machine and the setup, you’d save time and money.”
He looked interested but confused.
“Record-keeping is tedious work. Work that requires man-hours.” She pulled her key ring out of her pocket, showed him a small thumb drive. “Everything that’s in here,” Willa said, patting the monitor, “is on here. Emily has one just like it. Meaning, we both have access to all the files, no matter where we are.”
Max nodded, but she could tell that he still had questions. Willa slid the drive into a slot on the side of the computer, and explained, step-by-step, how the accounts could be accessed from anywhere, at any time. When the list of clinic expenses popped up, he said, “Ah-ha. And you have similar files for patients?”
“Exactly.”
“So if—God forbid—there was a fire, your records are safe.”
“Yup. It requires saving what’s in the computer to the drive, but even if we forgot for a couple of days . . .”
“I can see how this would help a business. Any business.” Leaning an elbow on the counter, he said, “But I would not know where to begin.”
“I’m happy to help you. We can go into town, explain how you’ll use the computer, and the store will install the programs you’ll need. I can show you how to type in your regular customers’ names and contact information, companies you regularly buy materials and supplies from, then use spreadsheets to—”
Laughing, Max held up a hand, stopping her. “I think my brain is going to explode.”
“Sorry. I shouldn’t have hit you with all that stuff, all at one time.” She removed the thumb drive and dropped the keys back into the pocket of her lab coat. “It sounds crazy. Convoluted. Nearly impossible. But only at first. Think of it this way ... When you accept a new job, you do the work in steps: Meet with the customer. Find out what they want and need. Provide drawings and a cost estimate, and if they like what they see, you provide a contract that spells it all out. Right?”
“Right . . .”
“And then you ask for a deposit, so you can order wood. Nails. Windows and doors. Roofing materials. Probably from a bunch of different sources, right?”
“Right . . .”
“And then you have to figure out which of your employees are best suited to do the work, right?”
“I see where you’re going with this. But I doubt I could ever figure out how to get all of that into there.” He pointed at the computer.
“I said I’d help you, and I will. I love this kind of work.”
Max blanketed her hand with his own. “Willa, you already have too much to do.” He listed all the things that drained her time and energy. “I could never ask you to—”
She looked at their hands, flat on the countertop. It was a small, seemingly insignificant gesture, but to Willa, it was proof that Max felt comfortable with her. “You aren’t asking. I’m offering.” She placed her free hand atop his. “I’m serious. I love this kind of work!”
“Still . . .”
“We’ve already established that neither of us need a lot of sleep. So we’ll get you a laptop, instead of a PC. They’re one-hundred-percent portable, but hold just as much information. That way, you can bring it to Dan’s house, and we can get you set up after everyone has gone to bed.” She was rambling and knew it, but didn’t know how to stop the rapid flow of words. “I’ll be nearby if Frannie or Anki should need me, and it’s quiet work. It won’t take long. I promise. And I’ll be right beside you, every step of the way.”
Willa sent a silent prayer heavenward: Let him say yes, Lord. Let him say yes. Because then maybe, just maybe, if she unconsciously threw herself into his arms again, he wouldn’t think she was trying to repay his kindnesses with—
“How soon can you go into town with me?”
Thank You, Lord, Willa thought, and brought the computer to life again. She looked over the day’s schedule and said, “There’s nothing on the calendar after lunch . . .”
“Emily won’t need you after that?”
“After what?” Emily said, entering the clinic.
Willa quickly brought her up-to-date, and as she placed Rafe into his playpen, Emily said, “There’s only one appointment this morning, just a follow-up on Jacob’s sprained wrist. It’s okay with me if you go right now.”
Max met Willa’s eyes. “Is that okay with you?”
“I . . . well . . .” She glanced at Frannie, who’d roused from her nap when Rafe started babbling the instant his mother removed his coat and hat.
“Bring her. I can drive Li’l Red, so she will be safe.”
“She’s teething, and might be a little fussy . . .”
He chuckled. “I have worked with Dan for years, so I can handle a little fussing.”
Willa looked at Emily. “You’re sure it’s okay?”
“I’m sure.” She handed Rafe a pacifier. “Don’t tell Phillip. He thinks it’s time to wean him off the thing.” Grinning, she added, “And don’t worry. You’ll be on the clock. Stop at a burger joint and bring lunch, and we’ll consider it a wash.”
Willa rushed over to hug her. “I couldn’t ask for a better friend.” She squeezed a bit tighter. “Or a better boss.”
Frannie, sensing that something good was about to happen, squealed happily.
“Let me have a look at that cut,” Willa said, walking into the exam room. “If it looks as good as it did day before yesterday, I’ll remove the stitches.”
He followed without question, and afterward, asked how he could help her get Frannie ready for the outing.
“Already done,” Emily said, holding out the diaper bag. “I changed her, put a few snacks in here, and filled a bottle with apple juice. Put on her coat and hat, and she’s good to go.”
“Bye-bye?” Frannie said, reaching for Willa.
“Yes, sweet girl, you’re going bye-bye. With Max!”
The baby’s excitement was palpable. “Max!”
He held out his hand. “Give me the keys, and I will warm up the truck.”
She dropped them into his upturned palm. “Aren’t you a trusting soul, giving me the only copy!”
“Oh, I have a spare. At home. In the shop.”
And with that, he left them.
“You’re a trusting soul,” Emily said.
“What?” She tucked the baby’s arms into her jacket. “Why?”
“You’re setting yourself up to spend hours and hours alone with the guy. . . .”
Buttoning the coat, Willa said, “You told me he’s crazy about me. That it was written all over his face.”
“It’s rare, I know,” Emily said, “but I might have been wrong. Maybe he suffers from heartburn. Or migraines. An ingrown toenail.”
“Gee, that’s a real confidence booster.” Fastening the hat ties under Frannie’s chin, she added, “All of those things make people look like they’re in pain!”
Emily shrugged. “You know what they say. Love hurts.”
She lifted Frannie from the playpen. “Well, it shouldn’t.”
“I’m kidding. It doesn’t. In my opinion, anyway.”
Rafe watched, wide-eyed, as Willa carried Frannie to the door. “Don’t worry, little guy. I’ll bring your playmate back soon.” Meeting Emily’s eyes, she said, “Whatever tools you use, just set them aside. I’ll run them through the autoclave this afternoon.”
“Deal. Now go. And have fun!”
“I can make up the hours tomorrow . . .”
“I know love is blind, but is it deaf, too? You didn’t hear me when I said bring me lunch and we’re square?”
“I did. Thanks. You really are the best.”
“Besides, you can’t come in tomorrow.”
“Why?”
“Because tomorrow you’re going to visit Bishop Fisher.”
She’d forgotten about sharing those plans with Emily. “But that can wait.”
“No. It can’t. You saw the schedule. Not one single appointment. Why should we both be stuck here, doing nothing?”
Willa thought of all the things she could do, like making sure the paper files were properly alphabetized. Re-scrubbing the exam rooms. The bathroom, too. And the kids’ playpens. The apartment-size fridge and stove in the kitchenette.
Emily flicked her fingers in the universal shoo gesture. “It isn’t polite to keep a man waiting.”
She looked outside, where Max stood, arms and ankles crossed, leaning his backside against Li’l Red’s driver’s door. The instant his eyes met hers, his entire demeanor changed, from distracted to delighted. I feel the same way, she thought, shoving the door open. But the closer she got, the less Willa believed that she’d inspired his happy transformation ...
. . . because Frannie, hands flapping, said, “Max!” and he was just as enthusiastic when he replied, “Frannie!”
While strapping the baby into the car seat he’d found and installed in the extended cab he’d added to the truck, Willa thought of the prayers that had lulled her to sleep ever since she’d found out that Frannie was on the way: Protect and provide for her, always, Lord.
Was it possible that Max was part of the answer to those prayers?
* * *
He’d seen her up to her elbows in dishwater. Battling wind to get clean laundry hung on the clothesline. Pink-cheeked and perspiring after carrying armloads of wood inside and stoking the fire. First thing in the morning, when he’d stopped by to drive Dan to a jobsite and Willa was busy cleaning up breakfast and packing Dan’s lunch bucket. In every case, Max made note of her good looks. But right now, with the laptop’s screen lighting her face, he thought she looked out-and-out angelic. He couldn’t say which distracted him more ... that she’d so cheerfully given him the scant free time left at the end of her days, or the fact that she was just plain gorgeous.
Both, he decided as her fingers click-clacked over the keys.
Tonight, like last night, she’d cooked a satisfying meal, cleaned it up, got Frannie ready for bed and tucked her in, then sat down beside him to explain—in detail—how to create a spreadsheet to track his inventory. If Willa felt tired or put-upon, she hid it well.
Max glanced around the tidy kitchen, at white stoneware stacked neatly on the shelves above the counter. At jars of seasonings and spices, arranged in alphabetical order, in the hanging rack Dan had made from scraps of oak.
“. . . so you just hover the mouse over the square that will hold your data, like this . . .” she said, bringing him back to the here and now. He forced himself to look at her fingers, curved over the keyboard, and noticed the rough redness that showed how hard she worked.
Impulsively, he grabbed her left hand, gently stroked its knuckles with the pad of his thumb. “I feel guilty saying this, since I am adding to your workload, but you should take better care of yourself.”
“You’re a fine one to talk.” She turned his hand over and inspected the thick calluses beneath each finger joint.
“You got me.”
Laughing quietly, she got up. “Let’s swap seats. I’ve got you all set up, but you need to learn to fill in the cells.” She dropped a hand onto his shoulder. “I won’t always sit beside you while you’re working.”
“But I wish you could!” The confession surprised him, and if her sweet, crooked little smile was any indicator, surprised her even more.
Willa aimed her pointer finger at the empty chair, and he wasted no time filling it.
Blanketing his hand again, she draped it over the wireless mouse. “See, if you click the right button, you can highlight, then move things. Or delete them. And if you click the left button, you can enter information to a new cell.”
He shook his head. “I wonder if this will ever make sense.”
“Sure it will. No one gets it on their first try. It’s like anything else. Practice makes perfect.”
Again, he shook his head.
“The very first time you hit a nail with a hammer, what happened?”
“I missed.”
“And the next time?”
“The nail bent.”
“And the time after that?”
“I hit the head, but it took a few whacks to sink it.”
“See what I mean? You had to do it a few times before you figured out how to properly use the tool. That’s all the computer is. A tool.” She patted his hand. “If you can build a house where nothing stood before, you can do this!”
Willa moved a file closer to him and quietly gave step-by-step instructions for typing into the spreadsheet. And just as she’d predicted, he was catching on.
When the numbers from that folder had been transferred to the spreadsheet, she opened a new one, and he completed it in half the time. Max was feeling pretty good about himself when she explained how to save the file.
Something went wrong, and the screen went blank. All that work, gone in an eye blink. He ran a hand through his hair, sat back, and said, “Dunner uns Gewidder!”
“Um . . . what?”
“I am sorry. Should not have let frustration get the better of me.”
“No need to apologize. I expect I’ve heard Dan say far worse things.”
She was tireless, uncomplaining, with the temperament of a saint. If she had a flaw, Max hadn’t seen it yet. As his father used to say, If something looks too good to be true, it is!
The baby monitor’s receiver hissed, telling them that Frannie had turned over in her crib. Frannie—living, breathing confirmation that her mother had been with a man who wasn’t her husband. To her credit, pretense and piousness didn’t seem part of Willa’s character. She hadn’t tried to hide the life she’d lived. Max remembered well the way she’d blurted it out on the day they met. Announced that she’d been a drug-addicted alcoholic, too. And yet the reality of it hit him like a slap, leaving him more confused than anything related to the laptop. That, he thought, was just plain absurd, considering how much time he’d spent with her.
Willa got up and grabbed his mug. “Your tea is cold. Let me warm—”
She stopped, stared into his eyes. All his life, people had been telling him that every thought in his head was visible on his face. For the first time, Max wished he’d put a little effort into masking his feelings.
Sitting again, she said, “Max. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” He glanced at the clock, hoping that by looking away, he could hide the fib he was about to tell. “I just noticed the time. We both have to get up early tomorrow.” Rising, he stacked the file folders she’d asked him to bring.
“Okay, but first, let me show you how to retrieve your work. It looks lost, I know, but looks are deceiving.”
Leaning over the laptop, she pecked a few keys and the spreadsheet reappeared in its entirety. Straightening, she placed his hand atop the mouse again, guided it until the arrow moved to the FILE, put pressure on his index finger. “Choose ‘Save As’ from the drop-down menu,” she instructed.
She said more, but Max’s mind was elsewhere . . . On Willa, blindly obeying the orders of a mangy drug dealer; Willa, in the criminal’s arms ...
“There. See? All’s well,” she was saying.
She was smiling, too, and Max pasted a fake grin on his face to match it.
It didn’t work, unfortunately. He could tell by the way she leaned in, eyes narrowed and brows furrowed.
“Talk to me, Max. All this . . .” Her hand drew a circle around his face. “This isn’t because you thought the file was lost. And it isn’t because the computer overwhelmed you a little, or because you’re tired.”
Did she really expect him to admit, straight-out, that her past had reared up like a wild bear, making him fear his feelings?
“You two are working late,” Anki said, shuffling into the room in a thick blue robe. The white cuffs of her nightgown peeked out from its long sleeves, and she tugged at one, then the other.
“We are finished,” Max said, closing the laptop. He unplugged its electric cord and began winding it up. “Sorry if we woke you.”
“You did not wake me. In fact, I only heard you when I entered the kitchen.”
Willa went to the fridge. “Thirsty?” She removed the pitcher of milk and filled a mug.
“No.” But Anki accepted the mug and slumped onto a kitchen chair.
“Hungry? There’s cobbler left from supper.”
Long blond hair spilled over one shoulder as Anki shook her head. Max had seen her without a cap, but this was the first time she’d untied the tight bun that had always sat on the crown of her head.
Willa dished up a bowl anyway, placed it in front of Anki, and plucked a spoon from the drawer beside the sink. “The wind, then . . .”
“No,” she said again.
“If noise didn’t wake you, and you aren’t hungry or thirsty, why are you up at this hour?”
Anki looked at the clock. A faint smile curved her mouth as she said, “It is five minutes after ten, Willa dear. Hardly the middle of the night.”
Willa’s gaze met his, and he read her pleading message: What is going on around here tonight!
Anything he said would only add to her worries. Max put on his coat and stuffed the laptop into the canvas briefcase she’d talked the salesman into throwing in for free. Sliding its strap over his left shoulder, he held out his right hand.
“Thank you, Willa,” he said, grasping her hand, “for everything you did for me today.”
Her grip was warm, and despite the reminders of hard work, comforting. He wanted to kiss the lips that had so patiently taught him about the laptop . . . kiss them until all traces of fear and uncertainty disappeared from her eyes. And from his mind.
Get your mind straight! he thought, releasing her hand.
“After all you’ve done for me,” she said, “no thanks necessary.”
She was referring to the truck again, and the changes he’d made to it for Frannie’s benefit. Would he ever convince her that she didn’t owe him anything for that?
“In case I forgot to tell you, supper was good.”
“You thanked me three or four times.”
“It was that good!” Did he sound as foolish and clumsy to her as he sounded to himself?
“Will you and Dan start the housing development tomorrow?”
“No, that will not get under way until spring.” This wasn’t the time to announce that because of Anki, Dan had agreed to oversee local jobs while Max managed contracts away from Pleasant Valley. “Between now and then, though, I need to file for permits, measure each lot, order materials. Which means I will spend a good deal of time in Frostburg in the next few months.”
Had he shared all this with Dan? Why else would it sound like he was repeating himself? Max shifted his weight from right foot to left. “What about you? Working here, or at the clinic?”
Now her eyes widened, the way they had when the cat startled her in the driveway.
“Tomorrow is the day she will meet with Bishop Fisher,” Anki said.
He looked from Anki to Willa. “A meeting ... with the bishop?”
Anki started to tell him why, but Willa stopped her with, “I hope weather forecasters are wrong about the upcoming winter. It’ll be dangerous for you, driving back and forth on those zigzagging mountain highways in the snow.” She walked to the door and, resting a hand on the knob, said, “I know you’re a careful driver, but unfortunately, you won’t be alone on the road.”
It had been a long time since anyone cared about his safety. It felt good, but he couldn’t let it distract him. He had lots to think about before moving forward with her. Unexpectedly, a disturbing thought came to mind: What if he’d misinterpreted everything, and she wasn’t interested in deepening their relationship? What if she’d been working two jobs, saving every penny, broadening her education in order to ensure she could provide well for herself and Frannie, anywhere? The questions upset him more than he cared to admit.
“Can I stoke the fire before I go?”
“Thanks, but I can handle it.”
“I have no doubt that you can.” And he meant it.
She opened the door, and as he stepped onto the porch, Anki’s voice stopped him.
“I will tell Dan how early you left. He was sure you two would work into the wee hours and wake up late.”
Willa grunted. “I have never, ever slept late. Or slacked off in any other way, for that matter.” Grinning, she shook a fist in the air. “I have a good mind to burn his bacon tomorrow. That’ll show him!”
Max didn’t know how he’d feel about her—and her past—after a night of contemplation, but he knew this:
If a future between them was in God’s plan, it would be anything but boring!