Promise to Cherish (25 page)

“I can’t stay, Eli.” She blurted it out before she even considered her words.

“What?” His brow furrowed. “Christine, please—”

“I stick out like a sore thumb. No one is going to really accept me this way. In just a few weeks this dress won’t fit me. I’m not going to be able to hide my . . .” she paused, “my condition for very long.”

“You don’t need to
hide
here.” Eli was handsome when he smiled—very handsome. She was still getting used to seeing him in his Amish clothing. He looked different wearing a hat on his white-blond hair. The loose-fitting shirts and homemade pants with suspenders gave him a boyish look instead of the sharp, professional look of his attendant jacket.

She tilted her head at him in disbelief.

“Come on, Eli, open your eyes. I don’t fit in. No one will like me. I’m not perfect like everyone here.”

Eli started laughing.

“You think we’re perfect?”

“There you go, laughing at me again. Can you ever be serious?”

“I’m not laughing at
you
, I just don’t see how you think we’re perfect. That’s funny.” His voice grew more passionate than she was accustomed to.

“But you all are perfect. Your district, that is.” She eyed him sharply. “I’m a Christian and have gone to church my whole life and know a lot of highly regarded church members and most of them, maybe all of them, would never understand my—situation. They send their girls off and make them give their babies away. And your church is even stricter and has more rules than any church I’ve ever known. Of course no one is going to understand me and what I’m dealing with.”

“You know my sister-in-law Sylvia, right?”

“Yes. She seems very sweet.”

“Anyway, you probably should know that before Mark and Syl were together, she and I dated for a short time. Mark’s still sore over it even though they’re married.”

“You and Sylvia?” Christine reflected on that.

“I only dated her out of spite because I knew Mark wanted to date her.”

Christine shook her head. “Why are you telling me this? What does this have to do with my situation?”

“Sylvia and Mark were expecting the twins before they got married.”

“They weren’t kicked out?” Christine was shocked.

“We don’t just kick people out,” he said, lowering his chin. “The preachers and the bishop always give members several chances to make things right. Always. They get plenty of opportunity to decide if they want to make a confession and stay with the church—or not.”

“They had to confess their personal affairs in front of the church?”

“That’s not the point I’m trying to make. What I’m trying to say is that it happens here, too. None of us are perfect. We all make mistakes. I’ve made a load of them, and there’s no one better than any other here in our community. That’s part of what makes our church so unique. We don’t expect perfection. If we did why would we need a system for confession and forgiveness?”

“But they didn’t have a baby like this.” She pointed at her abdomen. The words scraped against her throat. “Did Sylvia yell at Mark? Did she tell him to stop or cry in pain when he wouldn’t? Did she despise herself knowing that it was still all her fault?”

Her heavy breaths were all that could be heard for several moments.

“None of that is your fault, Christine,” he said and took her shoulders in his hands. His face was tight with intensity.

She gently pulled out of his grasp and continued walking. “You don’t really know me. If you knew how I’d acted that
night.” She shook her head and looked away past the empty field into the line of trees along the horizon. “I’m as guilty as—”

Christine couldn’t say his name.

“Was it that Jack-fella that you had the New Year’s date with?”

Her head snapped over and they eyed each other for several long moments.

“Sorry, I heard you and your friend,” Eli admitted.

“So, as you can see, Mark and Sylvia’s situation was completely different from mine. I don’t even know why I’m talking with you about this.”

Eli raised his hand and hesitantly touched her cheek. His warmth was like protection and safety. In these moments she was afraid she had told him too much. He wasn’t, however, like anyone else she knew and especially not like Jack. Telling him reminded her of standing under a large awning in the midst of a thunderstorm. He was a comfort to her. The problem was she was afraid he loved her.

“I’m so sorry, Christine,” he whispered.

She looked up into his eyes and for a moment let herself get lost in his sky-blue eyes.

“Eli,” a deep voice called from behind.

Eli’s hand dropped and he turned around abruptly. It was his brother Mark. The brothers locked eyes. Heat circulated around them. Mark looked over at her and shook his head when their eyes met.

“Whatcha need?” Eli said in English, before sighing audibly.

“Dad’s having problems with the bull, we need your help. If it’s okay with your
friend
?”

“Don’t be rude,” Eli bit back. “Christine hasn’t done anything to you.”

Christine’s heart pounded loudly in the silence that hung between them.

“You’re right,
she
hasn’t done anything to me.” Mark stepped closer to Eli.

“You want to talk about it right now?” Eli closed the gap between them.

“I don’t think we can talk it out.”

Eli’s and Mark’s hands were clenched at their sides. Their faces were taut and their chests out toward each other. The hatefulness turned her stomach. She had to leave.

CHAPTER 20

C
hristine wasn’t sure the brothers noticed when she walked away. She accidentally slammed Aunt Annie’s door and leaned against it. Eli and Mark’s animosity toward each other brought visions of her brothers to mind. But they had been best friends. Her brother Peter, with his dark features, always drew in every girl from miles around. Nathaniel’s features were more like Christine’s, with caramel hair and brown eyes behind glasses. Peter wanted to be an engineer. Nathaniel wanted to be a teacher. Now they’d never be anything but dead. It made her sick the way Eli and Mark treated each other.

“Oh, you’re back.” Aunt Annie came out of her bedroom and spoke to her unconsciously. “I’m sorry to say that I couldn’t repair your pie. I added a few oats to the mixture and made it into a bit of a peach crisp. The dough doesn’t have to be smooth and put together for that. I think we could go down to the farm and see if they have any cream for us to—”

The older woman stopped and just looked at her. Her face sagged from its usual smile.

Aunt Annie walked toward Christine and said something in Pennsylvania Dutch that ended with
mei maedle
. It didn’t matter
that she couldn’t understand any of her words, Christine didn’t need a translation. Of course, the older woman was asking what was wrong.

Christine just shook her head and willed the surfacing tears not to fall. She swallowed and blinked them away.

“Nothing, I’m fine.” She stood straight.

“Fiddlesticks.
Schvetz
—talk,” Aunt Annie urged.

There were several moments of quiet between the two. Christine sniffed and decided against confiding in Aunt Annie this soon. The last thing she wanted to do was talk about Jack and the baby again. She swallowed down the remainder of her emotions and shook her head.

“Can you teach me how to keep the fire going in the woodstove so I can be more helpful to you?” Christine changed the subject.

Annie narrowed her gaze onto Christine. “Well, if you wish.” She waved her over to the woodstove.

Christine watched carefully as Aunt Annie showed her how to make kindling from the box of papers and small trash pieces behind the woodstove and how to layer it just right to build the fire. She showed her how to stack the wood and that just a small splash from the kerosene was all she needed. Christine laughed that the kerosene was in a squeeze container like you’d see ketchup in at a diner.

“Make sure you keep your hair back,” she said to Christine as she tossed the ties of her translucent bonnet over her shoulder. “Sometimes the flame bursts up a bit.”

Christine watched carefully and jumped when she threw in the match and the fire started just as the door flew open behind them. They both turned around to find Enos, the youngest Brenneman boy, standing there, red-faced, huffing and puffing.

He started talking in Pennsylvania Dutch. Annie gasped.

“What? What’s happened?”

“It’s Mark, he got struck by the bull’s horns, and he needs your help,” Annie translated for her.

“My help? What’s the matter with calling a doc?”

“You’re a nurse, right?” Annie grabbed her own coat off the small hook near the door and pushed Christine out the door.

“Sure, but I don’t have any equipment,” she said, splaying her hands.

“Are they calling the doctor, too?” Annie asked Enos.

He nodded yes and said a few Amish words.

“He said that they are going to call Dr. Sherman but the phone is down the street, so it might take a bit for him to get here.”

“Aunt Annie,” Christine resisted but Annie held on to her arm and wouldn’t stop pulling her. “I will need some cloths, and he might need stitches. If he’s bleeding really badly, he might faint or go into shock.”

“Christine,” Annie stopped walking and shook Christine’s forearms. The woman was easily eight or nine inches shorter than Christine but the strength in her hands shocked her. “Don’t worry, I’ll help you.”

“Do you know anything about nursing?”

The older woman pursed her lips. “I’ve been a midwife for decades. I know more about babies and birth than wounds, but I will be more help than any of the other women. They’re probably in shock already.”

“You’re probably right about that.”

Christine’s confidence rose as they ran through the field, heading for the barn. Before they got there she could hear Mark yelling. She couldn’t see anything with all the brothers standing in a circle around him. Eli’s mother was crying and trying to make the twin girls turn away. Sarah pointed to the swing set and said a few words in their language and the girls ran. Christine’s head began spinning until she heard Mark cry out again.
She took a deep breath and gathered her wits. She put a hand on one of the boys and he led her through the group. His eyes were as big as saucers.

The vision of Mark sitting with his back leaning against a post was graver than she’d imagined. Sylvia stood near Eli but looked as pale as her white covering.

“Eli, I’m here,” Christine said, squatting next to him.

“What do I do, Christine? What do I do?” Eli was breathing so quickly she was afraid he would hyperventilate. His hands shook and his sleeve was torn and he was pressing it against the wound. His knuckles were colorless. The cloth was soaked and blood dripped through his fingers and onto the dirt floor of the barn.

“Good gracious, I’ve never seen such a—” she stopped herself. She could feel eyes on her from every angle. The gash on Mark’s midcalf had opened all the way up to his knee. “Okay, Eli, just don’t panic. I need to examine the laceration.” She didn’t want to see it. Eli lifted the soaked sleeve, his breathing almost as ragged as Mark’s. She tried not to gasp when she saw parts of the bone of Mark’s kneecap. The bleeding was getting worse. She pushed Eli’s hand down on it again, pressing it hard. Mark yelled. “You’re doing exactly what you should be doing. We need to try and stop the bleeding.”

“Sylvia, I need more cloths! Thicker ones.”

Christine stood and saw that Sylvia was in near shock. The woman didn’t seem to know that Christine was standing in front of her. It was the first time Christine noticed how young she was, younger than herself, and pretty—dark hair and dark eyes. But her olive skin tone was growing grayer by the minute. Why had she bothered with her when Annie was right there?

“Annie,” she turned further around, “I need clean cloths. I saw diapers on the line earlier. Gather up several of those and bring them to me.”

Annie ran in the direction of the clothesline. Sylvia and Sarah were both useless and Christine really couldn’t blame them. If it weren’t for her training, she would be also. Christine took both of their arms and moved them back. Hovering over Mark wouldn’t help. Neither of the ladies seemed to notice.

She went back to Mark and squatted.

“When the rags come, I am going to pack the wound and continue direct pressure to stop the bleeding. But I need you to keep his vitals, Eli.” She stopped talking for a moment and looked at Mark. “Mark, stay with us. I want you to keep your eyes right on Eli.”

Mark nodded slightly and his eyes went from hers to his brother’s. His jaw was tight, showing Christine he had some strength left. Eli kept his brother’s wrist in his hand and she could tell he was counting. She couldn’t have been more thankful for his learning some of the basics at the hospital. Annie handed Christine several clean line-dried diapers.

She took away the bloodied cloth. Christine did it too quickly and Mark yelled. She apologized. Mark’s dark-blue pants were shredded and pieces of the fabric were stuck in and throughout the wound.

“I’m going to clean your wound a little, Mark. Just keep looking at Eli.”

Her hand was steady as she gently pulled the shredded pants away from the wound, taking pieces of skin along with them. She kept apologizing to him but worked carefully and quickly.

“How’s his pulse, Eli?”

“Stable but a bit weak.”

Mark’s face had lost even more color. His jaw slackened, his skin was damp with sweat down to his chest. The palms of her hands touched his face and neck.

“He’s freezing,” she said. “We need to warm him up.”

“David, go get a buggy blanket,” Eli yelled over his shoulder.

Christine took a diaper and packed the wound. She leaned into it, adding pressure. The bleeding began to slow but it was still urgent. He must get to a doctor immediately.

“Get me something to wrap around his leg,” she said to Annie. “Wide strips of cloth, like bandages would be best.”

“Would twine work?” Mark David asked. He had been a silent observer until then, with his hand on Mark’s shoulder. His shirt was covered with blood splatters.