A Heart Made New (34 page)

Annie went still for a few seconds. “Do you remember the stories Aenti Louise used to tell us?”

How could he forget? She was the best storyteller and every story came straight from her
Deitsch
Bible. She had a great love of those stories, and they had sat on the rug at her feet many cold winter nights, listening to her raspy voice. “Like Jonah in the belly of the whale?”

“And David and Goliath. I think of your cancer as Goliath. God will help you defeat it.” A glimmer of her normal bright humor shone through in those words. “Anyway, I was thinking of the story of Job just now as I waited. I never liked it that much when I was little. It seemed mean to take everything away from a man just to prove that he wouldn’t turn away.”

“But God was right. He knew Job wouldn’t turn away. And he didn’t. No matter what Satan did to him, he refused to deny God.”

“Even when his wife said he should.”

“We all should avoid poor counsel.”

“Emma will never turn away, no matter what she loses.” Tears slipped down her cheeks. Annie blotted them with the hankie. “I can only hope to be as faithful.”

“You are equally faithful.”

“Not really. I wonder each day what God’s plan is for me. Why I’m still alone. Why you don’t care enough for me—”

“Annie!”

She twisted her hands in her lap. “I don’t understand why I’m still alone.”

The awful truth tightened its grip around David’s heart. His decision to back away from Annie caused her to question her faith. He was responsible for her doubts. Another wrong he couldn’t right.

Some things he couldn’t change. Like an uncertain future. But now, in this moment, he owed her at the very least a little comfort. He reached for her hand and her gaze connected with his. Her expression was open, soft, almost as if she would comfort him. “I don’t have any answers.”

“I know.”

Her hand met his midway between them. It was so small and soft. His fingers tightened around hers and he pulled them toward his chest so they rested there. He hoped she couldn’t feel the erratic beat of his heart. It would give him away. Without speaking, she bowed her head and closed her eyes. He did the same.

They sat, holding onto each other, silent as Annie prayed harder
than she’d ever prayed in her life.
Let David truly live. Let David know it’s all right to live. Give him hope. Give him faith.

“David? What are you doing here?”

Annie opened her eyes. Thomas stood in the doorway. Grief etched his face, aging it ten years. “How did you find out so quickly?”

David let go of Annie’s hand. A sense of being cold and alone left her with a feeling so painful she had to remember to draw a breath. He stood. “I was here…it doesn’t matter. I am sorry for your loss.”

Thomas inclined his head. His Adam’s apple bobbed. “She wants you, Annie.”

Unable to rein in her own emotions, Annie nodded without speaking. She slipped from the room and down the hall. At the door to Emma’s room, she hesitated, one hand on the slick, painted metal. Her eyes closed, she sought words. None came.
God. God. God.

When she was sure her face would reflect none of her own pain, she entered. Emma lay on her side, her knees drawn up like a small child. Her eyes were closed and her hands clasped under her cheek. Annie drew close and studied her sister. The picture of innocence even at the old age of twenty-three. Not wanting to wake her, Annie eased into a chair. Emma’s eyes opened and immediately filled with tears. “The baby is gone.”

“I know.”

Emma’s hands fisted and she drew them down to her chest, clutching them tight against her body as if fearing some unseen blow. Her breathing came in tortured, hiccupping jerks that hurt Annie’s ears. “I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I.”

Another jerky breath. “Can you pray?”

“Yes.”

“Pray for me. I haven’t the heart. Tell God I’m sorry.”

“He knows. Sleep.”

Emma’s eyes closed again. After a while, her breathing came more easily. Annie leaned back in the chair, glad to rest a while. No more talking. No more feeling. Just being.

Mudder and Daed’s death had taught her only time could ease this kind of agony. With each day, each week, each month, the white-hot fire would be reduced to glowing coals, then embers, and eventually ashes that would scatter and disappear in the gentlest of breezes. The scars would be brutal, rough, and uneven to the touch. But they would no longer burn and ache. She prayed that Emma could survive until then.

That they all could.

D
avid rapped on Emma and Thomas’s door and waited. He smiled down at Kinsey, who looked a little nervous. Surprising for a girl who raced through the halls at the hospital stopping to talk to anyone who would listen. Used to race. Now she let staff run her around in a wheelchair without a fight. Willow hoped the drive, fresh air, and new scenery might give her a boost. She was wasting away in that hospital bed, a little weaker each day. Too weak to ride. Emma needed company and Kinsey would give the girls someone to play with, giving Emma a break.

Like most Plain people, Emma didn’t complain about her loss, but no one could deny she felt it deeply. Being at home with the children while Thomas worked long hours harvesting the wheat meant she had no adults to keep her company in her time of loss. Luke had allowed Annie to go back to work at the bakery to help with the hospital bills. Not being allowed to help with the harvest, David figured he could serve a purpose here. Emma might think it odd a man would do such a thing, but today it gave him a sense of purpose and they had been friends for many years.

“You’ll like Rebecca. She’s nice.” He’d been trying to strike up a conversation with Kinsey since they left the hospital. After talking with Rosie and inspecting the horse from one end to the other, she had
climbed into the buggy and proceeded to study the countryside. “The twins are rambunctious. They like company.”

“I’d rather visit Blackie.” At least she was talking. “I bet he misses me.”

“We’ll visit him on the way back to the hospital.”

“I don’t want to go back to the hospital.” A note of entreaty in her voice made David’s hands tighten on the reins. She looked up at him, her eyes huge in her thin face. “I know what I said before, but I don’t want to die there.”

“You’re not dying.” Not today. “The doctor says your numbers have improved a little. So stop being such a worrywart and enjoy the day. Like I said, Rebecca is nice.”

Kinsey tugged at the kerchief on her head. She’d chosen red for this trip. It made her face seem all the more pale. “Is she gonna freak that I don’t have hair?”

“No.”

The door opened. Emma stood there, looking as pale and thin as her young guest. “David. It’s good to see you. And this must be Kinsey. I like your red handkerchief. It is so bright and cheerful. Come in, come in.”

She tried so hard to be the welcoming, not-a-care-in-the-world hostess. David offered her his best smile in return. “Kinsey wanted to meet Rebecca and the twins. Are they here?”

“They’re in the kitchen with Miriam. I seem to have an awful lot of visitors these days.” Emma managed a halfhearted smile. “Which is very nice. I appreciate everyone’s kindness. But it’s not necessary. I’m fine. I’ve plenty of work to do.”

“I know you’re fine.” David knew about that kind of fine. It came from sheer force of will. She had no choice but to be fine. So she arose each morning and went about her business, telling herself she was fine. It was exactly what he did. “They won’t let me work on the farm, and business is slow at the bakery. You’re doing me a favor by letting me visit.”

“Rebecca is making a pie for supper, and the twins are helping. Miriam is supervising. She’s keeping them occupied while I get some
sewing done.” Emma led the way through a simple, neat living room that looked just like the one he had at home. It even smelled the same, with the sweet scent of baking pastry wafting around him. “Which means the twins are making a mess, and Rebecca is trying to stop them because she knows she’ll end up cleaning up most of it. Miriam is drinking the tea they keep serving her.”

In the kitchen Emma made the introductions. Rebecca wiped her hands on her apron and shook the hand Kinsey held out. Mary and Lillie followed suit, their matching faces solemn as they examined their visitor from head to foot. “You have cancer?” Mary asked.

“
Shhh
, you don’t ask questions like that!” Rebecca scolded. “It’s not nice.”

Miriam put a hand on Mary’s shoulder. “It’s all right. I’m sure Kinsey is used to lots of questions. Like people asking you about your kapp and your long dress.”

“Yep. People always want to know what happened to my hair,” Kinsey conceded in a matter-of-fact tone. “I have leukemia.”

“Are you going to die?” Lillie posed the question, her innocence reflected in the way she cocked her head. “My mudder and daed died. A truck ran into their buggy.”

“My mudder died of cancer.” Rebecca added. “I don’t remember her. I was a baby. Now I have Emma so I’m not sad.”

David leaned against the door frame watching, amazed at how children took in stride the tragedies life dealt them. They handled it so much better than adults. Maybe because they didn’t truly understand what they’d lost. In Rebecca’s case, she’d never known a different life. This was the one God gave her. Surely, He had His reasons. And now Emma loved and cared for her and the twins as if they were her own babies. And that gave her solace in her time of loss. God’s plan?

Bringing Kinsey into his life. How did that figure into the big plan?
I’d like to know that, God, if it pleases You.

“I’m probably going to die soon.” Kinsey climbed up on the bench and sat down. “Can I have the pie now? Just in case.”

Miriam met David’s gaze. She smiled, but her eyes were sad. “You
must use that excuse a lot.” Her tone light, she pushed a pie to the middle of the table. “This one is cooling. We’ll cut it so you can try it—see if Rebecca and the girls did a good job. We can make another for supper. Would you like to help?”

“Really?” Kinsey’s eyes shone. “The only thing I ever made with Grammy was Rice Krispie treats.”

“I love Rice Krispie treats!” Miriam grabbed an apron from a pile on the prep table. “Put this on. We’ll make a pie you can take home to your grammy.”

Emma leaned toward David, her smile tight. “I think she’s in good shape. Come into the living room. I have a mound of sewing to catch up on. With everything going on it seems I’m a little behind. Would you like some iced tea?”

David waited while she poured the tea, then took the glass she offered and followed her into the living room. She sat in a rocking chair and picked up her sewing basket. He settled into the one across from her. Her hands occupied with a sock that sported a hole in the heel, she glanced at him, then back at her darning. “Did Sadie and Annie send you over here to check on me?”

“No. To get rid of me.”

They both laughed.

“Aren’t we a pair?” Emma leaned over her sewing. The needle plunged in and out of the material without hesitation, but her voice shook. “I try so hard to accept what happened as God’s will for me, but I still don’t understand.”

“Neither do I.”

They sat a while in silence. Emma knotted and snipped the thread. She picked up another sock, then chuckled.

“What?” David saw nothing humorous in their situations.

“You remind me of Thomas.”

“How so?”

“You’re so chatty. Annie never mentioned how chatty you are.”

David drew lines in the condensation on his glass. “I’m surprised she mentions me at all.”

“Fishing for information, are you?”

Not really. He already knew how much Annie longed for more. So did he. But talking about their problem would take Emma’s mind off hers. “Is she all right?”

“She told me about that night at the hospital. The night I lost…” Her free hand smoothed the apron that covered her flat belly. “That night you saw her in the hospital.”

“I don’t want to be responsible for her losing faith. Nor do I want her to be alone when I’m gone.”

“Where’s
your
faith?”

“I’ve known you and Luke and Annie since we were all knee high to my daed’s britches.” David set his glass on the end table. “You’ve known me. You know I only want to do what is right.”

“And you get to decide what that is with no regard for someone else’s feelings?” Emma had a little more perk to her tone now that the conversation had turned to fixing someone else’s problems. “You have no idea what God’s plan for you is.”

“Never truer words were spoken.”

It must have been the sheer bewilderment in his tone that made her giggle. The infectious sound caught David unaware. It made him laugh. The more he laughed, the more Emma laughed. He had to hold his side, it hurt so much. Emma had tears running down her face. “We’re daft, aren’t we?”

“Completely around the bend.” He guffawed.

“What is going on in here?” Her face puzzled, Miriam swept into the room. “I thought someone was getting tickled to death or something. Are you two all right?”