The River (20 page)

M
elvin had only performed CPR on a dummy in the class he’d taken on the sly. It wasn’t something he’d ever thought he would have to do on his father. Even so, he was relieved to see Daed beginning to respond now as Melvin pumped in the steady rhythm he’d been trained to do.

Hurry, Tilly,
he thought, aware that if this was an arrhythmia problem like he thought, there was no time to waste. He was thankful, too, that the Almighty had directed him this very day to drop in early to help, after accomplishing some of his own chores at his farm.

He looked at his once brawny father lying on the floor. Daed had stumbled forward while they were forking hay together, saying he was awful dizzy. Melvin had eased him carefully to the ground, speaking firmly yet calmly to Daed . . . telling him everything he was going to do to help him.
Everything I learned at the class.

“Medical help’s on the way,” Melvin said, more to reassure himself than Daed, who had lost consciousness. He took his father’s pulse and then resumed pumping his chest again.
We
’ll get you out of the woods yet. . . .

Meanwhile, Mamm and Ruth had stepped back, and he heard a whispered prayer falling from his mother’s lips. Jah,
pray,
someone please pray!

“Ruthie, why don’t you go on out to the road and wave down the paramedics? Direct them in here, won’t ya?”

Immediately, his sister left the barn.

“Will he be all right?” Mamm asked, her voice sounding terribly weak. Weaker than when she’d had the flu two winters ago and lain in bed for days.

“He’s a Lantz, ain’t he?” Melvin answered, not wanting to add to her anxiety.

“He certainly is,” Mamm replied, catching Melvin’s spirit.

“Keep prayin’,” he added, waiting for the sound of the siren.
Hurry, hurry
!

Tilly pushed the speed limit all the way back down Eden Road. She tried not to assume the worst, even though the image of Daed sprawled out like that, unconscious, was impossible to push from her mind.

She had quickly called 9-1-1 at the phone shanty, so now it was just a waiting game. If the ambulance arrived soon enough, Daed had a better chance of surviving. Arrhythmia wasn’t the same as a heart attack, she knew, but it could be fatal if his heart didn’t get back into rhythm with CPR or an electrical shock. If the paramedics dallied, Daed might not make it.

She pulled into the drive and sat in her car, not knowing how to feel or what to think. She wasn’t Daed’s biological daughter, but it didn’t change the fact that he’d raised her as his own. Well, nearly. And even that made no difference now, not at such a critical time.

On top of Daed’s sudden episode, Tilly was still reeling from the repercussions of her mother’s shocking revelation. The fact remained: Her very existence was a thorn in Daed’s flesh.
The ugly duckling . . .

She pleaded for divine help, for God’s will to be accomplished. Daed certainly needed heaven’s intervention, living in the country, so far from town.
How far away is the ambulance service?
she wondered, anxious.

Then, incredibly, moments later, she could hear the sound of a siren and breathed a thank-you to the Lord. “They’re almost here,” she said, ever so relieved.

Tilly and Ruth encouraged Mamm to ride along in the ambulance, grateful Daed was now conscious, although very disoriented.

When the ambulance left with their parents inside, Tilly and Ruth hurried inside the house and choked down a few bites of the cold breakfast, then put away the leftovers. They would finish cleanup later.

Melvin, for his part, had declined eating, saying he and Caleb would take care of things outdoors, covering for Daed till other men—neighbors, mostly—came to take their place once Benny returned from getting word out next door.

Tilly had thanked Melvin profusely, suggesting that he had saved Daed’s life with his quick thinking and CPR.

My
half brother,
Tilly thought now. She couldn’t help looking at her siblings far differently, even dear Ruthie
.

“Why are you staring at me?” Ruth asked, frowning as they went to grab coats and purses.

“Just thinking.” Blood kin or the strong bonds of the heart—
what did it matter, really? She loved Ruth as if she were her full-blooded sister. Same with her brothers.

“You all right?” Ruth still seemed concerned. “You’ve asked
me
that more than once since we arrived here. No doubt you’re worried about Daed.”

“Well, it’s not a day I’ll forget anytime soon.”
Nor last night . . .

Ruthie nodded and walked with her out the door. “I wonder if we shouldn’t have taken Mamm in the car and just followed the ambulance. She must be thoroughly confused.”

“You’re right. Let’s get going,” Tilly replied, thankful they didn’t have to rely on horse and buggy. “Mamm can benefit from our experience in the English world.” She didn’t like the idea of Mamm not knowing what to do there amongst strangers, although medical professionals. She felt terribly protective of her as she remembered again the startling things she’d learned from her mother’s lips in the wee hours just this morning.

Dear, dear Mamm . . .

Tilly swerved out of the way of a white-haired man driving along the narrow streets of Strasburg as she headed north toward the Lincoln Highway. The older gentleman gripped the steering wheel with both hands, spectacles all the way down on the tip of his nose as he squinted through the windshield at the road.

“Isn’t he too old to be driving?” Ruth asked, her tone serious.

“We’ll all be like that someday.” Tilly glanced at her sister.

“To think I might not be driving anymore . . . and soon.”

“Are you sad about that, Ruthie?”

Her sister sighed. “It wouldn’t be the hardest thing to give up, I’m sure. My friends and my overall freedom would be much harder to leave behind. And I’m not sure I could leave our church, either. It’s so different from the Amish meetings, as you know.”

“Have you thought of discussing any of this with Will?” asked Tilly. “What about making a compromise? After all, if he really wants to be with you, he could meet you halfway.”

“I don’t know. He seems very set on joining church here.” Ruth folded her arms, and for several miles she was brooding and quiet.

When she spoke again, Tilly changed the subject. “Just think what we might have missed by not coming to our parents’ anniversary celebration.”

Ruthie agreed. “Amazing, isn’t it?”

“We wouldn’t have enjoyed visiting with Mammi Lantz again, or seeing our new nieces and nephews, either.”

“And Uncle Abner and Aunt Naomi, too, don’t forget,” Ruth said. “And Will Kauffman,” she added more quietly, confiding that Will wanted to take her out in his courting carriage that evening. “Of course I won’t go unless Daed is doing better . . . but if I do, I’ve thought of wearing one of my Amish dresses to surprise him. What do you think?”

“Well, nothing says you have to.” Tilly didn’t know whether to smile or frown, though she was certain Will would see it as a step in the right direction. “First, let’s find out how Daed’s doing.”

Ruth agreed.

“And sometime before we leave for Rockport, I might stop at the cemetery to see Anna’s headstone,” Tilly said.

Ruth nodded, saying she probably wouldn’t do that a second
time this visit. “But I’d like to go to the river . . . near the spot where Anna fell in.”

Tilly shivered and admitted she’d already gone on Sunday but would have to take Ruthie there before they left town. Hard as it would be.

“Melvin mentioned wanting to go, too,” Ruth said suddenly. “Do you mind?”

Tilly found this peculiar. “Why does he want to go?”

Ruthie shrugged and looked at the sky. “He didn’t really say. Just needs to sort out some things that have nagged him for years, is all.”

I understand.
Yet Tilly felt overwhelmed at the thought of returning to the scene of Anna’s accident. It was almost too much to take as she drove to the hospital as fast as the speed limit would allow.

Please, Lord, don’t let Daed die,
she prayed, struggling with tears for the man who was her father in name only.

A
t Lancaster General Hospital, Tilly and Ruth found their mother sitting in a chair next to Daed’s bed when they stepped into the semiprivate room. Mamm looked so pale, Tilly told her not to get up but to preserve her strength. “Daed needs you strong,” she whispered as she leaned down to kiss her cheek.

“Such a lot of papers to read and sign in the ER,” Mamm whispered, waving her hand before her face. “I hope I didn’t make any mistakes.”

“I’m sure everything will work out just fine,” Ruth told her, assuring her that the People’s benevolence fund would help with the medical costs, like always. No one in their Old Order community had health insurance.

“Well, it seems that your father may not be in longer than overnight. The nurse said his cardiologist has ordered more tests. Might even be that medicine alone will help him. We can hope and pray.”

Tilly glanced at Daed, who was resting. Now and then, he raised one eyelid and peered over at them. She saw the IV in his arm and the heart monitor charting his pulse. Unable to
bear it, she ambled to the window across the room, near the other bed, which was vacant.

“Tilly, you all right?” her sister asked softly.

She waved absently, without turning around, and stared out at the sky . . . still thinking of the Conestoga River and the fact that Melvin wanted to go back there. The whirling, churning river had carried Anna downstream, out of their reach. Life felt like that, too, sometimes. An unpredictable yet powerful flow of circumstances—some appalling, like Mamm’s experience in the woodlot, and now Daed’s brush with death—some good and even sweet, like her marriage to Kris and the birth of their twins.

She wondered if she shouldn’t get word to Daed’s siblings about how he was doing, or that he was even here. She walked back to the foot of the bed and suggested this to Mamm, who sat stiffly, pressing her fingers into the edge of the hospital bed. She looked like she might cry.

“
Gut
thinkin’.” Mamm wiped her eyes. “And Abner and Naomi planned to bring supper over tonight, too, don’t forget.”

Daed raised his head slightly. “Naomi’s cookin’?”

“Oh now, you . . .” Mamm sputtered a soft laugh. “We’ll save you some . . . if they even come at all.”

“Sure they will,” Ruth said. “They won’t want you to do any cooking. And anyway, they know we’ve packed up most of the kitchen for the move.”

A few moments later, the doctor appeared, looking both professional and serious in his long white coat and with a stethoscope dangling from around his thin neck. He politely informed them that only two people should be in the room at a time, so Tilly took this as her chance to exit. She waited in the hallway, wondering what was happening inside while the
doctor examined Daed, feeling yet again like she was on the outside looking in.
All my
life.
Truly, she’d been an outsider long before she left the valley.

Nurses bustled back and forth. A patient lying on a gurney, returning from surgery, was pushed past her. The hallway suddenly smelled of antiseptic, and it turned her stomach.
I’m too sensitive,
she thought.
I could
never be a nurse.

After what seemed like a long while, the doctor exited the room and caught her eye but didn’t stop to fill her in. A bit later, a tall, slender nurse, like a magazine model, approached her with a pleasant expression and suggested that she relax in the family waiting room.

Tilly thanked her and headed in the direction the nurse had pointed.

Another half hour passed, and eventually Mamm poked her head into the small waiting room. “If Naomi and Abner still want to come for supper, you should welcome them,” Mamm suggested. “All right with you?”

“If they’re fine with that. Or . . . if they’d rather, I can drive them here to be with you and Daed instead.”

Mamm smiled. “
Denki
, Tilly. It’s such a blessing to have ya here just now. But before ya go, dear, your father wants to see you. Alone.”

There it is again—“your father,”
thought Tilly as she accompanied her mother back to the room. Again, she waited while Mamm went inside to ask Ruth to come out to give Daed privacy with Tilly.
What’
s on his mind?
she wondered.

Ruthie’s eyes looked pink and puffy as she moved into the hallway with Mamm.

“We’ll wait right here, dear.” Mamm motioned for Tilly to go inside.

Tilly crept in and noticed again how vulnerable Daed looked in the hospital bed, elevated more now than it was earlier.

“
Kumme,
Tilly, to the other side.” He motioned for her to sit where Mamm had been before.

He must feel better
.

“Mamm wants your brothers and sisters to know you’re in the hospital,” she started the conversation, feeling jittery. “I’ll head back as soon as—”

“Tilly,” he stopped her. “Listen to me once.” He frowned at the needle in the crook of his elbow. Then, with an exasperated-sounding sigh, he turned to look at her. “While I’m able, I want to say this to ya.”

She listened, and if she wasn’t mistaken, his lower lip quivered.

“I shouldn’t have talked like I did the other night—in the carriage, ya know.” He drew a labored breath. “I’ve had some time to think about everything,” he said. “For one thing, what ya name your children is your business. And I don’t mind if ya want to keep Anna’s
Kapp
.”

Tilly was too shocked to speak.

He looked pained. “There’s something else, too. You might not know it by the way I acted, but I’m awful glad you and Ruthie came for the anniversary get-together.” Here, his eyes filled with tears. “I know it maybe wasn’t the easiest thing for you to do, daughter. But it means a lot to your Mamm and me.”

Daughter . . .

Still unable to say what was in her heart, she reached up and placed her hand on his.
“Denki
,”
she whispered. “Thank you, Daed, for telling me.”

Tilly waited for him to say more. But when she was certain he’d said all he wished to, she found her voice at last. “
Da
Herr sei mit du,
Daed—God be with you.” She tiptoed to the door and quietly left the room.

Respectfully, Tilly drove to each of Daed’s eight siblings’ homes after leaving the hospital. Thanks to the Amish grapevine, five had already heard, and the rest said they were grateful for her dropping by and were eager to call for a van driver to take them to Lancaster General Hospital as soon as possible.

“We’ll do everything we can so Lester’s not alone in this,” Uncle Hank was quick to say. He thanked her repeatedly for coming. “Mighty nice of ya.”

The
Amish way,
she thought.
Rallying around someone in need.

At last she headed to Uncle Abner’s, where she broke down and cried, despite acting so outwardly strong earlier.

“You just go ahead and let it all out real
gut
,” Uncle Abner said as he motioned for Aunt Naomi to come and embrace her—together, they formed a small circle of compassion. “Your father will be all right,” he said. “We’ve been prayin’ ever since Benny ran by and told us the news.”

“Word travels fast round here,” Aunt Naomi said.

Tilly dried her tears and headed for the door, indicating that Mamm had said they could still come over to the house with supper as planned.

Aunt Naomi seemed to like the idea. Then, moving to the icebox, she said. “You might need a bite to eat now, too, ain’t?”

Tilly thanked her but wanted to get back to the house. She needed to finish packing up the kitchen for Mamm, and the breakfast things needed cleaning up, too. “Not sure what I’d do without you two.
Denki.
”

“That’s why
Gott
gives us big families,
jah
?” said Uncle Abner. “We can be like the Lord Jesus to each other.”

Tilly had never heard it put quite like that.

“We’ll see you around six o’clock, then,” Aunt Naomi said. “After Abner’s all cleaned up from milkin’.”

“I’ll look forward to it.”

While driving down Eden Road, Tilly remembered Daed’s remarks to her at the hospital, and the almost gentle expression on his face, usually so stern when she was around.
Nearly always
, she recalled.

“To think he apologized,” she whispered, struck by the reality. Her Daed seemed to have given as much thought to their stormy time together as she had.

Was this a new beginning?