Wounded Heart (9781455505654) Read online

  “I know you’re doing it because I can see you, but it doesn’t hurt.”

  “Hmm.”

  “It’s not a pinched nerve?”

  “Hmm? No, no.” Prick, tickle, prick. “Nothing so simple.” That didn’t sound good. “I’m going to send you for some blood tests and then an MRI.”

  “What is that?”

  He took a breath to say something, then seemed to change his mind. “I forget who I’m dealing with here. It’s like a big camera. You lie on a big tray, and it takes pictures of your insides.”

  Amelia’s imagination failed her. What on earth?

  “It’s up to you, of course, but without it I don’t have a way to see exactly what’s going on. There’s nothing to worry about, Mrs. Beiler. It’s fairly standard procedure.”

  For him, maybe. She’d never heard of such a thing. “Is it expensive?”

  “A couple thousand dollars, I think. Unless you have health insurance.”

  “No.” She didn’t have a couple thousand dollars for such things either. How could a camera that took pictures of your insides be so expensive? She couldn’t hand over the little bit of money in her savings for something so outlandish—​especially when it might not be able to tell them anything. “Could there be another way?”

  He gazed at her while she tried not to look at his eyebrows. “I suppose you could wait until your symptoms get so bad that the conclusions become obvious. And then we put you on medication for pain and to try to slow the symptoms down. It would be better to know now, though. So we can do the right thing, right away.”

  It sounded like he already knew what was going on. But she didn’t want to be forward and ask impertinent questions when she knew nothing and he was the authority. “Do you…have an idea …?”

  “I have lots of ideas, Mrs. Beiler. Can you speak up?”

  Oh, dear. He was getting angry with her. “Of what it could be.”

  He shifted, straightening his back as though he were getting ready to argue with her. “Your symptoms are consistent with a number of maladies. But an MRI would pinpoint exactly which one.” He paused. “I understand the church has a fund for medical emergencies. I’ve had Amish patients before, and there’s never been any problem getting procedures paid for.”

  “Even an…MRI?” What did that stand for? Never mind. She didn’t have the courage to waste his time by asking.

  “Even one of those. I recommend you speak to your bishop and see if they can free up some money for you.”

  Daniel Lapp had the final say, but, as deacon, Moses Yoder had authority to make decisions on medical procedures, since he handled most of the financial transactions for the Gmee. She could just see herself explaining to him that she needed two thousand dollars for a giant camera to take pictures of her insides. Her insides weren’t the problem. Her hands were.

  “Mrs. Beiler?”

  “Ja. I mean, yes. I’ll try. But what if our deacon says no?”

  “Then we’ll go on our best assumptions. There are medications that can slow the symptoms and even put you into remission.”

  “Remission?” Why did he keep sounding like he already knew the answer? Why insist on the MRI, then, and put her through the trial of asking the church for money?

  “Let’s get some facts to work with first. I don’t want to alarm you unnecessarily.”

  “I’m alarmed now.” Her voice, though carefully quiet, carried an edge that she’d never heard in it before, even on her worst days. She plucked up her courage, even though it went against a lifetime of practice in submission. If she could get out of going inside his camera with a few little questions, then she would. Even if it meant taking up a few minutes of his time. “Could you tell me your idea?”

  But he shook his head. “We need the blood tests and the MRI, Mrs. Beiler. Otherwise it’s just educated guesswork.” He rose and helped her down from the padded counter shaped like a bed. “Go talk to your bishop…er, deacon, and then call my office to schedule the test, all right?”

  He was already walking her to the door, so she didn’t have much choice but to submit. There were a dozen patients in the waiting room who probably had serious things wrong with them, like cancer or epilepsy or broken bones. Not pins and needles and numbness and burning sensations that came and went like fireflies in the grass.

  Carrie stood when Amelia came out into the waiting area, clasping her hands over and over. She waited until they were outside before she said, “Well?”

  Amelia shrugged and patted the horse’s glossy neck before she climbed into the buggy. “Not much to tell. He wants me to take a test called an MRI. Do you know what that is?”

  Carrie backed the horse away from the hitching rail, and Amelia handed her the reins when she climbed in. “It’s when you lie in this big tube and it makes a bunch of noise taking pictures of you. One of my sisters had to go for one once, when she tripped over something on the stairs and fell down half the flight. She wrote and told me in great detail all about what the inside of her head looked like.”

  What did the inside of someone’s head look like? “Did she see the pictures?”

  “She must have. So it was a good thing. Are you going to have one?”

  “I don’t know.” Amelia sighed. “Why does it have to be so complicated? Why can’t I just go and get some medicine and have that be that?”

  “Some things are meant to be simple,” Carrie said, “but our bodies are complicated.” She made the turn from the main road through Strasburg to the long stretch across the valley to Whinburg. In the silence punctuated by the horse’s rapid clip-clop, Amelia heard the rest. And some women have families of twelve without trying, while some cannot conceive a child no matter how joyful its welcome would be. Bodies are complicated, and only God knows them.

  And only God knew what she should do. Because Amelia certainly did not.

  That evening, as she did the supper dishes, the answer came to her. Ask Daed if he will go to the deacon on your behalf.

  Relieved at a solution that had clearly come from God, Amelia scrubbed one-handed at the roasting pan with renewed energy. But if she thought she could get the boys into bed and slip away early, she had another think coming.

  Elam struggled to pull his hand away as she led him up the stairs to brush his teeth. “Nei! I don’t want to go to bed.”

  “Maybe not, but go to bed you will. Brush your teeth first, like your brother.”

  Around the toothbrush Matthew said, “He’s just a baby. Hey, Elam, maybe es Ungeheier will come and get you tonight ’cause you’re such a baby.”

  “Matthew! There’s no need to be cruel. What’s this about a monster?”

  The face of her eldest had sobered at the sharpness in her tone. “Nothing.”

  She knelt and took Elam into her arms. Tears swam in his eyes as he tried not to let them fall in front of his brother. “What is it, my little man? What has you so afraid? There’s no such thing as monsters—God did not create them. It says so in the Bible.”

  “Miss Hannah says there’s a leviathan in the Bible, and that’s a monster,” Matthew informed her from the sink with all the confidence of the scholar.

  “There are no leviathans in Whinburg,” she informed him right back. “To bed with you, young man, without another word.”

  Elam clutched at her. “Don’t go down, Mamm. Sing the golden song?”

  It was a delaying tactic, but she didn’t have the heart to refuse it. “Teeth, then prayers, then the golden song.”

  Maybe it was the comfort of the old and familiar. Maybe it was the fact that she sat with them, singing one of the modern songs she used to with the Youngie on Sunday nights. Whatever it was, she sent up a prayer of thanks when Elam’s eyes finally slid shut and his breathing lengthened.

  Monsters in the dark. Goodness. In daylight she would have a little talk with him and find out what was really behind his fears. If it was Matthew, making scary noises in the night, there would be Druwwel.

  She ti
ptoed downstairs, put on her coat, and set off down the lane in the cold twilight.

  When she stepped into her parents’ front hall—oh, blessing—she found Daed alone by the kitchen stove, reading.

  “What do you have there?” She closed the door behind her firmly with her hip, so no chilly breezes could get into the warm house. Sometimes the door stuck when it got cold.

  He held up the book. Modern Farming and Husbandry.

  “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

  “It’s not for me,” he said. “I got it for Mark. Thought he might be interested in some of these newfangled ideas. I’m planning to mail it off to him tomorrow.”

  Surely this was God’s will. “So you’ll be in town, then. Any plans to go by Moses Yoder’s place on the way back?”

  “I could. What’s on your mind, Amelia?”

  She peered into the living room, but it was dark. “Where’s Mamm?”

  With his chin he indicated the porch behind him. “In her room concocting something for Lizzie Stolzfus. Seems she has those warts you had when you were a girl, so she wrote to ask for a cure.”

  “So Mamm is preparing those drops and giving her a scrubbing brush?”

  Isaac nodded, and Amelia resisted the urge to say what she wanted to say, which was that the scrubbing brush would do just as much good with or without the drops. She considered telling Emma to tell Lizzie, her sister-in-law, but then decided against it. The drops would do no harm.

  “Do you want to see her?” He put his book on the arm of his chair and made to get up.

  “No, no. It’s you I want to see.”

  Settling back, he raised his eyebrows at her. That was one of the things she loved about her father. No fuss, no muss. Just settling down and preparing to listen.

  “I take it this has something to do with our deacon?”

  “Yes.” She paused a moment to pull a chair over. “I wonder if you would ask him on my behalf for some money.”

  Her father blinked. This was obviously not what he had expected her to say. “Why would you not come to your mother and me if you need money? We don’t have much, but—”

  She shook her head. “It’s a lot of money. A couple of thousand dollars.” And that was just to start. Who knew how much more it would be after that?

  “Are you adding on to the shop?”

  She saw now she had started at the wrong end of the conversation. Jumped in with both feet off the rope swing instead of wading in a step at a time. “No. I— It’s for medical purposes. Something called an MRI.” When he looked blank, she explained what that was as well as she could. “It’s because of my hands, Daed. It’s not a pinched nerve. I went to Dr. Shadle, and he said he couldn’t help me. So I went to a Dr. Hunter in Strasburg, because that’s where Emma took her dad. And he seems to think I need this MRI. But I don’t have the money to pay for it.”

  He nodded, slowly, taking it all in. “The church keeps a fund for medical purposes. I see now. He should be able to tell you, but he’ll likely ask all the elders for counsel. So this is what you’ll need? Two thousand dollars?”

  “More or less.”

  “Less is no problem. More? I’m not so sure.”

  “I don’t know yet. Dr. Hunter says he’ll be able to proceed once he sees the pictures. I have no idea what that will mean for money.”

  “We’ll take it one step at a time. Would you like to come with me to see my friend Moses? I’ll do the talking, but he may have questions.”

  “I’d rather not, Daed. I have the shop to run.” And tomorrow was Tuesday. With all these unsettling medical visits, she needed the strength of her quilting frolic in the afternoon. If Moses Yoder sent her a direct request in his role as deacon, then of course she would go. But until he did, she needed to be with Carrie and Emma.

  “All right, then. I’ll come by tomorrow evening and tell you what he says.”

  She got up and hugged him. “Denki, Daed. I can always count on you.”

  But he didn’t release her, even after he stood. “You’re all right, though, aren’t you?” Concern lurked in his deep-set eyes.

  “Of course.” She couldn’t move her fingers in his hand. Did he notice? Gently, she pulled out of his grip. “It’s probably nothing more than a circulation problem. I’m hoping he finds out what it is, gives me some pills, and I’m back to normal by Communion Sunday—or at the latest by the time Christmas baking starts.”

  “I hope so, too. I wouldn’t want to miss your pumpkin pie.” He smiled, but the worried look didn’t leave.

  Sometimes she loved her dad so much she couldn’t breathe. But he would be deeply embarrassed if she told him so. “You’ll have your pie.”

  “You won’t stay and have a cup of Kaffi with us? Your mother won’t be much longer.”

  “I don’t think so. I can’t leave the boys for long. Don’t say anything to her. I don’t want to worry her for nothing.”

  She slipped out before the door to the closed porch on the other side of the kitchen could open. If her mother found out she had to go for fancy, expensive tests, she would never hear the end of it. In her mind, if Dr. Shadle couldn’t fix something, it was obviously God’s will and a person should bow to it. How did Mamm not realize that people got cancer and pneumonia and all kinds of awful things? They didn’t just bow down to those—they went to doctors and got help.

  She wasn’t alone. Others had asked the church for help before this. There was no reason for them to refuse. And in the absence of a husband, she’d done right to ask Daed to appeal on her behalf.

  Her feet crunching on the gravel on the side of the road, Amelia looked up into the night sky, crisp and glittering with stars.

  She just needed to trust that God would see her through.

  Isaac did even better than he had promised. He went to see Moses first thing in the morning and then came by the shop on his way to the post office. By the time Amelia got home, packed up what she needed for the afternoon, and met Emma at Carrie’s, she was practically bursting with the need to share the good news.

  “Goodness, Amelia. Tell us quick.” Carrie hustled her over to the table, where Emma was unpacking her tote bag of fabric. “Look at this girl, Emma. She has good news, I know it.”

  Emma put down a pile of fabric squares. “Did you see the doctor? What did he say?”

  Amelia filled her in as she unwound her shawl and tossed it over a chair. Then she said, “And Daed went to see Moses Yoder first thing this morning. Wouldn’t you know, Bishop Daniel was there, because the two of them were getting ready to go look at a horse, so Daed didn’t have to go chasing all over the district to find them. And they said yes!”

  “To what?” Emma wanted to know. “I’m missing something.”

  “To giving me the money for the MRI. Mind you, I have to pay some of it. But the church will take the greatest burden. Isn’t it wonderful gut?”

  Emma drew a long breath, a smile dawning like the sun. “I would say so. But how could you doubt it? They would hardly say no when a sister is in need. The church is paying for Mamm’s oxygen and Pap’s medication, because goodness knows after the harvest we had, there isn’t much left over.”

  Amelia felt giddy with relief. “I know. I was foolish to doubt it. But I’ve been so worried and frightened—”

  “Frightened?” Carrie’s smooth brow wrinkled in a frown of concern. “About the money?”

  Amelia shook her head. “About my hands…the shop…how I was going to manage if I didn’t get better.”

  “Don’t borrow tomorrow’s trouble.” Emma dug her good shears out of her bag. “Today’s is enough. So when do you go in for this test?”

  “I’ll go see Dr. Hunter tomorrow and find out. I have to go to Lancaster for it, so Daed said he would come with me on the bus.”

  “Oh, I’m glad.” Carrie looked apologetic. “I’m glad we can’t drive in the city. It scares me to death. What would you do if your horse bolted into traffic? Much better to go by bus.”
/>   “We’ll leave the horse at my brother Saul’s place in Intercourse and take the bus from there. It will mean an early start, sure.”

  “But at least it will be done. You’ll find out what’s wrong and be able to do something about it.” Emma’s tone was bracing. She held up several pieces of blue and purple fabric. “This is where you are right now, in the dark before the dawn. But dawn will come. What do you think of these for our bottom row?”

  It was a relief to think about something other than herself. Amelia and Carrie bent over the colors, moving pieces around to find the best blend. “You know what? I think these would look better on green rather than the black,” Amelia said. “It just seems more hopeful. Like you said, the sun rising over the green and fertile earth, ja? ”

  Carrie studied the pieces scattered over the length of black fabric Amelia had brought. “It’s a shame not to use this, though.”

  “There’s enough to make a cape and an apron or two, but I already have enough. I suppose I could use it to make pants for the boys. Matthew is growing so fast I can hardly keep him dressed.”

  For a wedding quilt, the black would be awfully dark. She couldn’t say that in front of Emma, though. “What do you think, Emma?”

  Pursing her lips, Emma arranged the squares and triangles on the dark green. “I think you’re right. The green seems to make the other colors brighter. And the quilting stitches will show up better.”

  “I don’t know if we want mine showing up.” Amelia rubbed her hand. It was becoming a habit, as though she hoped she could rub the life back into it. “I’ve never been able to load ten stitches on a needle on the best of days, and now with these hands I might be down to only four or five.”

  Emma nudged her with one hip. “This is just for us. By the time we get to the last stitches, you’ll be back up to eight or nine, because the medicine will be working. We’ll see your journey back to health in this quilt—it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

  “We have a few weeks of piecing ahead of us anyway,” Carrie put in. “Who knows? By the time that’s done and we get ready for the quilting, you could be cured.”