Susanna's Dream: The Lost Sisters of Pleasant Valley, Book Two (18 page)

Susanna tiptoed out, closing the door softly. She started down, comforted despite her fatigue. Good things and bad things, all wrapped up together . . . that was life, wasn’t it?

The house was quiet around her, nearly as familiar as her own apartment now that she’d been here a week. Nate had refused all efforts to get him to go to bed when they got home from the hospital, but he was settled in the upholstered rocker in the living room, his foot on a padded stool. With any luck, he’d drop off to sleep eventually, given the pain medication the doctor had insisted he take.

Thank goodness for her sister on a day like this one had been. Chloe had been a rock, breaking the news to Dora, taking her to the hospital, bringing them home, dealing with all the phone calls that had to be made.

Donna had been waiting at the house when they got there, chicken soup already made on the stove, a loaf of her homemade bread ready to be sliced, and a casserole prepared for their supper. She had been full of questions about the accident, though, and Susanna had barely been able to answer them.

She still found herself shaking inside when she let her mind dwell on what had happened. She kept seeing Nate moving down the cellar stairs ahead of her, his tall, solid body blocking the glow of the lantern he carried. She’d sensed his irritation at this new problem, despite his efforts to hide it.

And then, so quickly, the tread he’d stepped on had shaken and cracked and collapsed, and Nate had fallen. Still on the landing she’d reached for him, frantic to catch him, but she couldn’t, and her heart had nearly stopped with fear at the thought of what she’d see when the debris settled.

She was shaking again, and she moved into the kitchen and stood for a moment, hands pressed against the counter. Enough of this nonsense. Nate would be fine. He had a broken bone in his ankle, but nothing so serious that it would cause problems as long as he obeyed the doctor’s orders. Getting him to behave might be the most difficult part of his recovery.

Dora had been so shaken at the hospital that the doctor had addressed himself to Susanna, apparently thinking she would be the person in charge. Maybe he’d assumed she was Nate’s wife. He hadn’t asked her name. The thought generated feelings she didn’t want to examine.

In any event, the doctor had entrusted her with the medication, the instructions, and the precautions. Now the main issue was to get Nate to do as the doctor said.

Susanna ladled chicken soup thick with noodles, carrots, and chunks of chicken into a bowl, inhaling the rich aroma. She was hungry, as well as worried—that was what was wrong with her. As soon as Nate was taken care of, she’d have something to eat.

Picking up a tray with the soup and thickly buttered slices of bread, she tiptoed toward the living room. If he’d fallen asleep it might be best to let him sleep.

“You don’t need to creep around.” Nate’s deep voice held an edge. “I’m not asleep. It’s bad enough just to be sitting here doing nothing in the middle of a workday. I’m not going to take a nap like a boppli.”

Susanna moved into the living room. Sunlight filtered between the plain white curtains on the windows and lay across the oval braided rug that covered the wide planks of the floor. She took the tray to the small table next to Nate’s chair and arranged it within easy reach of his right hand.

“You can take it back. I’ll come to the kitchen and eat like a grown-up.” He groped for the crutches they’d given him at the hospital.

Susanna got to them first and put them out of reach. “No, I will not. And you’ll sit here with your foot up as the doctor ordered.”

“I’m not a child.” He glared at her.

“Then stop acting like one,” she said briskly. “I know you’re used to being the boss, but this is one time when you’ll have to obey the doctor. And if you’re not quiet, you’ll wake your mother, and I’ll have to tell her you’re not behaving.”

Nate studied her face, as if judging how far he could push her. Then he leaned back in the rocker, a reluctant smile teasing at his lips above his short, fair beard.

“Didn’t you mean to say I am used to being bossy?” he asked.

“Just a little too set on getting your own way,” she said, handing him the soup bowl. “Eat something, and you’ll feel better. You haven’t had anything since breakfast.”

“Neither have you,” he pointed out. “Fix a tray for yourself and join me, and I’ll be quiet and eat, ja?”

She considered arguing, but she was hungry, and at least if she ate with him, she’d be sure he was eating.

When she came back into the room a couple of minutes later with her own food, he was already spooning chicken soup into his mouth.

“Ready for seconds yet?” she asked.

He shook his head and pointed with his spoon at a chair. “Remember our deal.”

She sat obediently. The first wonderfully aromatic spoonful of soup reminded her of how hungry she was. They ate in silence for several minutes.

Nate caught her gaze and grinned. “Feels sinful, doesn’t it, eating in the living room? Mamm never let us.”

“Neither did mine.” Would her birth mother have done the same? Most likely. Mothers were mothers, she supposed, no matter where or who. “If I was sick, I got a tray in bed. Otherwise, eating was done at the table.”

Nate dropped his spoon into the bowl and leaned back against the cushioned rocker, looking tired. The pills, maybe, she thought. Or the pain.

“It will be time for another pill in about an hour,” she said.

“I’m all right.” He turned his head toward her, face easing. “Speaking of being bossy, I heard you snapping out orders while I was lying on that cellar floor.”

“Not snapping, I hope,” she said. “Poor Billy looked nearly as stunned as you did.”

“You are very calm in a crisis, Susanna Bitler. I didn’t know that about you.”

“I didn’t feel very calm when I saw you fall.” She couldn’t keep looking at him, not when she had that sick, helpless feeling at the image in her head. “I should have stopped you from falling.”

She could feel him studying her, even without looking at him. “What do you imagine you could have done?” His deep voice was deceptively mild.

“If I weren’t lame—”

“That’s foolishness,” he snapped. “You couldn’t have kept me from falling, not if you’d had three arms and four legs. Besides, the whole business was my fault.”

That brought her gaze to his face. “How could it be your fault?”

“I’m the one who should have checked those stairs before anyone went down them. The person who fell might have been you.” His intensity was so strong that she felt it like heat on her skin.

“With everything else you’ve had to do, it’s no wonder you didn’t think about the steps. I certainly didn’t.” She took a breath, trying to calm herself. It would be so easy to let the pain and fear she’d felt at his accident make her betray her feelings. “Let’s just blame it on the flood, and not either of us. Ja?”

“I suppose.” He frowned at the cast on his foot. “I don’t remember all they told us at the emergency room. Did the doctor say how long I have to wear this thing?”

“He said if you’re careful to let the bone heal, they might be able to replace the cast with something lighter in a couple of weeks.”

“Weeks,” he repeated.

She could hear his frustration. “I’m sorry.” What else could she say? “I’ll be glad to work in the store. Maybe some of the others can put in extra hours. Anna Mae—”

“I fired Anna Mae this morning.”

Susanna stared at him. “I don’t understand. Why?”

Nate’s head moved restlessly against the padded cushion. “She’s been taking too much for granted. This morning, she said some things . . .” He seemed almost embarrassed. “Things she shouldn’t have,” he said, almost chopping off the words. “It’s for the best.”

Obviously he didn’t want to discuss the matter. Well, it wasn’t Susanna’s business. Maybe Anna Mae had let him see too clearly that she had a crush on him. That thought hit too close to home for comfort.

“I’ll work as many hours as I can. I have to do something to earn my keep.” Susanna smiled, trying to turn it into a joke that she’d been living in his house for a week.

“You must stay as long as you need to. Mamm likes having you here.”

And what about you, Nate? Do you like having me here?

But she couldn’t ask that, not even in the flirting way that Chloe or even a girl like Anna Mae might.

“The landlord says it will probably be at least another week before I can get back into my apartment,” she said instead. “He’s had to wait for an insurance person to come before he can start the cleanup and repair.”

Nate nodded. Amish didn’t rely on insurance, of course, but other things slowed down the work, like that notice about the mold.

“I thought maybe I could do some work at the shop this week. I know some of the volunteers would help. If we could get rid of the mold ourselves—”

“No.” Nate planted his hands on the arms of his chair. “All those rules and inspections—it’s too complicated.”

An argument hovered on her lips. Surely there was some work they could start. Nate seemed to think nothing would be done right unless he did it.

Still, it was his building, and that flash of ill humor was no doubt the result of his injury. He was in pain and frustrated as well, thinking of all his responsibilities.

She would just have to be patient, no matter how difficult it was. Hopefully soon they’d be able to get back to work on the shop. Eventually she would return to her own place, and everything would be as it had been.

She’d try to believe in her own words. But one thing, at least, would never go back to the way it had been before the flood. She could never go back to a time before Nate had kissed her.

C
HAPTER
S
IXTEEN

T
he
fields on either side of the country road seemed to blur into a green and gold haze. Chloe blinked, shaking her head. This long day had been trying, to say the least, but of course she’d been happy to help Susanna and Dora deal with the emergency.

Several times she’d heard the story of how Nate came to fall through the steps at the shop, and each time it made her shudder. It could so easily have been Susanna. Not, of course, that she wanted Nate or anyone else to be injured, but Susanna—she’d already been injured so badly.

Nate’s broken ankle might well change the situation in regard to the shop. She’d had no opportunity to talk to Susanna about it, but it seemed to her this might push Nate further in the direction of getting rid of the building. If so, what would become of Susanna?

Susanna had asked her to get a message to Lydia, so she’d know what had happened. Chloe could have called Seth and asked him to tell Lydia, but her last couple of conversations with him had been so strained that she hadn’t especially wanted to repeat the experience. If she went to see Lydia, she could deliver the news herself and find out how Jessie was doing after that . . . episode.

Chloe wasn’t sure what else to call it. Jessie’s outburst had been totally unexpected, and the look on Seth’s face when he’d shut Chloe out . . . well, she kept seeing it every time she closed her eyes.

She loved Seth. She didn’t have any doubts about her feelings, but she had plenty of doubts about his. And even if he felt the same, what good would it do?

Chloe’s cell phone chimed, cutting off that futile line of thought. She stole a quick glance. Her grandmother. She’d better take it. Luckily she had almost reached the lane to Lydia and Adam’s place. She pulled in, stopped the car, and grabbed the phone.

“Gran, how are you?” Her grandmother had been calling her more frequently in the past few days. A person might almost think Gran was interested in how her other granddaughters were faring.

“I nearly gave up on calling you. Why did it take you so long to answer?” Gran sounded almost plaintive. That was so opposed to her usual calm assumption of command that it startled Chloe.

“I’m in the car on my way to Lydia’s. I had to pull over first.”

“I see.” There was a momentary pause. “She and the children are well?”

“Just fine.” Chloe tried to keep any hint of triumph out of her voice. That was the first time Gran had taken the initiative in asking about them. “Susanna had a difficult experience today, though.”

“She’s not hurt?” The question came quickly.

“No, but her partner’s son was injured. He and Susanna were checking out the mold situation in the basement of the shop, and the stairs collapsed under him.”

“Susanna shouldn’t have been doing such a thing.” Gran clearly didn’t care what had happened to an unknown-to-her Amish man. “Not with her disability.”

“I suppose so, but the shop is her livelihood. Like a lot of people here, she’s fighting to save it.”

“It seems to me it might be advisable for Susanna simply to buy or rent another place and set up the shop on her own.”

“Probably so.” Chloe smiled as one of the buggy horses came to the fence next to her and put its head over inquiringly. “But Susanna doesn’t have the money to do anything of the kind. I suggested she apply for a business loan, but in the aftermath of the flooding, the banks will probably be overwhelmed with applications.”

Again there was a moment’s silence. Then her grandmother cleared her throat as if she were about to address a group. “I’ve been giving this some consideration. I’ll put up the money she needs for a new shop. You can let me know the specifics.”

Chloe couldn’t catch her breath. This was Gran, who’d spent the last thirty years denying the existence of her grandchildren.

“I’m not saying I want a relationship with either of them,” her grandmother continued. “But I can’t let Diane’s daughter lose everything. Now, that’s taken care of, and I don’t wish to discuss it further. Are you still working with the flood relief?”

Chloe bit back the words of thanks that her grandmother didn’t seem to want. “Yes, I am. Recovery is an enormous job. It’s going to take a long time to get people back to a normal life.”

“I’m gratified that you’re doing what you can to help the less fortunate.” The words were stilted, but her voice had warmed.

Chloe found she was smiling. For Gran, that was the equivalent of saying she was proud of Chloe.

“Thank you, Gran. I miss you.”

“I miss you, as well. I hope you’ll come home soon.” Her voice seemed to tremble slightly on the final words.

Chloe’s throat tightened. “As soon as I can.”

“Goodbye.” Gran ended the call abruptly, perhaps afraid she might show weakness.

Chloe sat motionless, gazing across the pasture to the orchard and beyond it to the Miller place. Seth’s car was parked by the small barn. Seth might not recognize it, but he wasn’t the only person torn by family needing him. Putting the car in gear, she drove on down the lane toward Lydia’s.

The two boys came running pell-mell from the chicken coop when they saw her, and she hoped they weren’t carrying any eggs.

“Daniel, David.” She hugged them, loving the way they wrapped their arms around her. “How was school today?”

“We learned about writing letters today,” Daniel said importantly. “Teacher said people really like to get letters.”

“They certainly do. I know I’d love to get a letter from you.”

Daniel grinned. “But we see you often, so I can tell you things.”

“I want to tell something.” David grabbed her hand, asserting his right to his aunt’s attention.

“Sure thing.” She swung their hands as they walked toward the kitchen door. “What?”

“I . . . um . . . I forget.” His small face fell.

“That’s okay. You can tell me when you remember, right?”

“Right.” His grin was restored.

Lydia, probably hearing the commotion, had come out onto the back porch. “It’s wonderful gut to see you. You’ll stay for supper. There’s plenty.”

“I thought there might be.” Chloe hugged her sister. She’d never yet arrived at an Amish home to discover that there wasn’t enough to feed a crowd.

Lydia pressed her cheek against Chloe’s and then drew back, studying her face. She turned to her sons.

“You two go and finish your chores now. You’ll have time to visit with Aunt Chloe later.”

Without the noisy protest some of her friends’ children would have put up, the two boys nodded and darted off toward the chicken coop again.

“Komm.” Lydia opened the door, her arm around Chloe’s waist. “Something is wrong, ain’t so?”

“Nothing too terrible.” The kitchen was filled with the scent of cinnamon, and several coffee cakes were lined up on the countertop. “Smells good in here. It looks as if you’re preparing for a party.”

“It’s just some cakes to send along to the shelter tomorrow.” Lydia dismissed them with a wave of her hand. “Tell me.”

“Susanna is fine. But she and Nate were going into the cellar at the shop to check on the mold, and the steps collapsed.”

Lydia paled. “Susanna—”

“No, no, she wasn’t hurt. But Nate fell and broke his ankle. She went to the hospital with him, and she called and asked me to share the news with Dora and drive her.”

“Poor Dora.” Lydia’s eyes mirrored empathy. “It’s bad to hear your child is hurt, even when he’s a grown man. And Nate . . . he’s not the kind to make a gut patient, I think.”

“No, that’s for sure. He won’t be able to do anything at the shop for weeks, maybe longer. I didn’t get a chance to talk to Susanna about it, but I’m sure she’s discouraged.”

“She must be. But we can bring folks from here to work on it. Everyone wants to help.”

Chloe had known that would be Lydia’s response. “Maybe it’s best to wait until we know more. Apparently there’s some issue about a mold inspection before they can do much else.”

Should she mention Gran’s offer? Maybe not before she’d talked to Susanna about it.

Lydia nodded. “Always regulations, I guess. Well, in the meantime, we’re planning a special auction to raise money for the families in Oyersburg, and vans will go every day taking anyone who is free to work.”

It struck Chloe again how selfless people were being when faced with a crisis. “People are so kind.” Her voice choked a little.

“That’s why we’re here, ja? To carry each other’s burdens.” Lydia glanced out the window, and amusement lit her face. “It didn’t take Seth very long to notice your car. He’s coming through the orchard now.”

Chloe’s heart gave a little thump. She had to see him—had to find out for herself what was going on with him.

“I’ll walk out and meet him.” Chloe made an effort to sound natural, which she suspected didn’t fool her sister in the least.

“Take your time,” Lydia said. “Supper won’t be ready for another half hour or so.”

Chloe made an effort to organize her jumbled thoughts as she walked toward the orchard. If she told Seth how she felt . . . but did she really want to do so? It might bring things between them to a head just when he was struggling with his sister’s illness and his own future.

A fallen apple crunched underfoot, releasing its scent. Despite all the apples that had already been picked, the trees still seemed laden with fruit. Even though she knew nothing about orchards, it looked like a bountiful crop. Nature seemed to give with a lavish hand and take away equally.

Seth waited for her by the seat in the center of the orchard, not bothering to pretend he was coming for any reason except to see her. Even in his well-worn jeans and his flannel work shirt, Seth still carried the indefinable air of an urban professional. Was he really prepared to trade everything he’d earned to return to being Plain?

“I didn’t expect to see you today,” he said.

She met his gaze. “Didn’t expect to or didn’t want to?”

“Chloe, you know that’s not true.” He took an impetuous step toward her and stopped short, as if he’d run into something. “It’s just that everything is so complicated right now.”

“How is Jessie?” She couldn’t pretend not to know what troubled him.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Better, I guess. Mamm thinks she’s regaining control more quickly now, but I don’t know. There’s no point in talking about it.” He started to turn away.

She grabbed his arm. “Come on, Seth. Aren’t we past the point of pretending?” She tugged him toward the seat. “Sit down and tell me what happened after Jessie had those hysterics at seeing us together.”

He sat, reluctantly, and she took a seat next to him. She studied his profile, stern and determined in the afternoon sun filtering through the apple trees.

“Come on,” she said again. “If I caused that—”

“You didn’t. I don’t know what did.” He drove his fingers through his hair. “That’s what’s so frustrating. I thought she was getting used to the idea of . . . well, of you and me together. That she liked it, even. And then she exploded with no rhyme or reason.”

“Does that happen often?” She’d known Seth’s sister had emotional problems, but knowing and seeing were two different things.

“Not recently.” Seth blew out a breath, as if trying to ease his tension. “That’s what makes it so frustrating. The doctors say she’s bipolar, but that doesn’t really explain these fits of losing control.”

Chloe groped her way, trying to find something she could hang on to. “I had a friend in college who was bipolar. When she was in the up phase nobody could stop her. She ripped through assignments, accomplishing more in a day than I did in a week. But then she’d be unable to sleep, and eventually she’d crash, sinking like a stone into depression.”

“That’s the pattern her doctor told us to watch for, and the medication does seem to be helping with it. But when she flies off the handle . . .” He lifted his hands in a gesture of helplessness. “Well, you saw. Nobody’s been able to explain that to us. They keep saying it takes time.”

Her heart ached for him. It must be maddening to be faced with something he couldn’t get a grip on. “I guess we start relying on the idea that there’s a pill or a treatment that will cure everything. It’s a shock to find out it doesn’t work that way.”

Seth nodded, but she had the feeling he was listening to her with only half his attention.

“You see how it is. I can’t leave my mother to deal with Jessie’s problems alone. If I have to quit my job . . .” His voice ran out, as if he didn’t really want to verbalize the possibility.

“Can’t you go on the way you are? Working from here, going on business trips when you’re needed?”

“The company wants more.” His smile had a touch of bitterness. “In this business, you’re either out ahead of the curve or you’re out of the race. I have to make a choice.”

“If you talked to your employer—”

“Don’t, Chloe.” He cut her off short, shooting to his feet. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to be rude. I know you’re trying to help, but I have to figure this out for myself.”

What about me, Seth? What about the feelings I have for you? What would you do if I came right out and said I love y
ou?

She couldn’t. Not now. It would be putting another burden on his back. Lydia’s words about carrying one another’s burdens came into her mind.

The trouble was that the other person had to be willing to let you share their burden. And Seth, it seemed, wasn’t.

* * *

Nate
pulled the crutches toward himself, careful not to make any noise. The slightest sound would bring either his mother or Susanna rushing to see what he wanted, and if they caught him, he’d never get over to the store today.

Good, he had the crutches without alarming anyone. He wasn’t sure which one was on duty at the moment, but between them, his mother and Susanna had kept him penned in this chair as if he were a babe in a cradle.

Foolishness. A broken ankle wasn’t a big deal. The doctor wouldn’t have given him crutches if he hadn’t been intended to use them. There was no reason on earth why he couldn’t get himself over to the store.

Just to make sure everything was running properly, mind. He wouldn’t actually try to do anything, not until he could move around a bit more easily. But Mamm didn’t see it that way. She hadn’t even let him count the money last night, snatching the cash box away and saying he’d give himself a headache. He’d had worse lumps on his head playing eck ball than this one.