The Mending Page 4

  Malinda nodded and trudged off to perform her own bedtime preparations. Even Mamm thought her incapable of completing a task as simple as getting Aden ready for bed. Well, with Aden, maybe that task wasn’t always so simple. That bu could find more diversions to prolong bedtime than she could ever have imagined at his age. The very thought brought a smile to her lips.

  Malinda blew out a long, deep sigh. She hated to admit it, but Mamm had been right. Exhaustion threatened to claim her. Hopefully, after a full night’s sleep in her own bed she’d rise bright and chipper in the morning. Wearily she shrugged out of her clothes and pulled on her long, white nightgown. She removed her kapp and loosened her hair to fall to her waist. She quickly brushed it and wove it into one long braid. Ach, she was tired of being tired!

  Why did she have to have this horrible Crohn’s disease? She had felt perfectly fine up until a couple of years ago. She’d become so sick that Dr. Nelson sent her for all sorts of nasty tests to confirm the diagnosis. Various medicines, costing a lot of money, helped, but flare-ups could occur at any time. She knew there was no cure for the disease, but she prayed for a remission. Instead, each flare-up seemed worse than the previous one and probably caused more and more damage to her intestines.

  Malinda feared surgery would be required at some point, and she feared that even more than the flare-ups. Dr. Nelson had told her she might experience much pain relief and might be able to stop some of her medications if she had surgery, but that was a step she was not yet ready to take. She’d overheard Dr. McWilliams discuss the same thing with medical students at the Ohio hospital. They had all stared at her as if she was some exotic fish in a bowl of guppies. Besides, she did not want to create more of a financial burden. Since the Amish carried no health insurance, her family and community would have to foot the hefty surgery bill.

  She fell onto her knees, propped her elbows on her bed, and dropped her head into her hands. “Please, Gott, please take this horrible disease away. I don’t want to be a burden. I just want a normal, healthy life.” One tear and then another slid down her cheeks.

  My grace is sufficient.

  Malinda jerked her head up and looked around the lamp-lit room. Had Mamm slipped in and overheard her prayer? No one lurked in the shadows. Malinda was alone—or was she?

  Chapter Five

  Malinda tried to get back into the swing of life at home. She dragged herself out of bed in pre-dawn darkness to help her mamm get breakfast on the table for her daed and bruders, she cooked and cleaned, and she fought to hang heavy, wet bedsheets on the clothesline. She was well aware that Saloma watched her like a hawk and often urged her to rest, but Malinda did not want to be treated like an invalid. She would prove she was not a weakling even if that meant collapsing into bed each night feeling like she’d been plowed over by a team of horses. She had even let Mamm talk her into attending the singing with Sam and Atlee on Sunday evening. That had proven to be a mistake she did not intend to repeat.

  “I’m glad you came to the singing,” Phoebe Yoder said on Tuesday.

  “Jah. Did you have a gut time?” Mary Stoltzfus asked around the bite of oatmeal cookie she was chewing.

  Phoebe and Mary, though a year older, had been Malinda’s freinden for years. As promised, they were paying her a visit after morning chores had been completed, the noon meal eaten, and the kitchen cleared. The three girls sat in green metal lawn chairs in the shade of a big oak tree, sipping lemonade and munching cookies.

  “I-it was, uh, okay,” Malinda hedged.

  “Did you get a ride home?” Phoebe playfully poked Malinda’s arm. “I kind of left ahead of you.”

  “I know. I saw you slip out with Ben Miller. I rode home with Atlee. I drove to the singing with Sam but figured he’d want to slip away with Emma Swarey, so I persuaded Atlee to drive me home. He wasn’t exactly thrilled about it.”

  “Oh, I thought . . .” Phoebe began.

  “I’m sickly. What bu wants a sickly girl?”

  “You’re too hard on yourself.” Phoebe reached over to pat Malinda’s arm. “You aren’t ‘sickly.’ You have times when you feel poorly, but most times you’re just fine.”

  “I may seem just fine, but the disease is always there ready to rear its ugly head. And I have to be careful what I eat. And . . .”

  “A lot of people have to watch what they eat.” Phoebe swiped at a fine strand of strawberry blonde hair that sailed across her face in a sudden wisp of breeze. “Some people have diabetes and have to stick to a certain diet.”

  “Some just need to diet.” Mary giggled and patted her belly.

  “Not you,” Malinda said. “I don’t know where you put all those cookies.”

  “There is always room for cookies.” Mary helped herself to another cookie loaded with plump raisins. “And pie and cake and—”

  Phoebe wadded up her paper napkin and threw it at Mary. “You’re impossible!”

  “I am different, though,” Malinda insisted. “I never know when I’ll have a flare-up. I have to take medications that aren’t cheap. After a flare-up I feel weak, and during one, I’m worthless.”

  “As I said before, you are way too hard on yourself. The disease is not your fault, and it’s not in your control. You can’t blame yourself. I know all about blaming one’s self, and it’s not gut.”

  Malinda knew Phoebe had had great difficulty overcoming self-recrimination after her little schweschder was kidnapped. Thankfully, little Naomi had been found safe and sound, but Phoebe had suffered guilt and self-doubt for a long time. Malinda’s mamm had told her all about that. “I know, Phoebe. I’m trying not to blame myself. Maybe you didn’t notice how everyone at the singing looked at me in pity.”

  “I think they were all concerned. You probably saw caring, not pitying.” Mary popped the last of her cookie into her mouth.

  “No bu approached me—as usual.”

  “Did you give one a chance? You sort of hid in the shadows.” Mary licked cookie crumbs off her lips before reaching for her lemonade.

  “I noticed Timothy Brenneman’s eyes following you.” Phoebe winked at Malinda.

  “Pshaw! Tim is Sam’s freind. Sam was too preoccupied so probably asked Tim to keep an eye out that I didn’t collapse somewhere.”

  “It didn’t seem like he minded watching you.”

  “You’re narrisch, Phoebe!”

  “Not so crazy as you think, Malinda Stauffer.” Phoebe picked up the plate of cookies. “Here. You’d better grab another one before Mary eats them all. I see her eyeing the plate again.”

  The girls talked and laughed for another hour, then Phoebe and Mary had to head home to help with chores. “Can we expect a wedding this wedding season?” Malinda looked directly at Phoebe.

  Phoebe pressed her hands to her crimson cheeks. “I’m sure there will be several weddings.”

  “Will yours be one of them?” Malinda turned to look at Mary. “Or yours?”

  “Not me.” Mary shook her head. “I’m still looking. After things didn’t work out with Aden Zimmerman, I’m taking it slow. You’d better pin your hopes for a wedding on Phoebe.”

  Malinda smiled as she gathered up cups and the empty cookie plate. Her freinden had cheered her up, and the little respite from work revved up her energy. She set the tray on the step and decided to remove laundry from the line while she was already outside. Stepping into the sunlight after her time in the shade felt like stepping into the woodstove. The heat of the summer afternoon nearly stole her breath. The laundry would definitely be dry. Ohio had been a tad cooler, but she was ever so glad to be back home in Maryland.

  Malinda unpinned the big bedsheet, folded it, and tossed it into the laundry basket she’d left outside earlier. She continued unpinning, folding, and tossing as her thoughts rambled. She really was happy for Phoebe. After her devastating experience, Phoebe appeared to have found love with Ben Miller—not that anyone in the community out-and-out discussed such a thing. It was a blessing Ben came back to Maryland
when he did. Apparently those two were meant for each other.

  Was there a young man meant for her? The faces of the fellows at the singing flitted across Malinda’s mind. She couldn’t imagine a single one of them wanting to take her on with all of her medical issues. She dropped the last clothespin into the bag. Had Timothy really been watching her, as Phoebe had said? If so, why? Malinda tossed her head. No doubt Sam had asked Tim to keep an eye on her so he wouldn’t feel guilty about sneaking away with Emma. Sam knew Atlee would get too caught up with the other fellows to pay any attention to her. That had to be it.

  * * *

  “You need to try to eat more, Malinda. You’ve been working hard and need to keep up your strength.”

  Malinda followed her mamm’s gaze down to her still-full plate. “I know, Mamm. I’m trying.”

  “I don’t mean to nag, dear, but you have lost a good deal of weight.”

  Malinda nodded. She was well aware that her dresses hung like feed sacks on her despite pinning them tighter. She’d always been thin, but now her ribs and hip bones had become even more prominent.

  “If you get any skinnier, you’ll be able to slip through the door cracks. You need to eat like me.” Atlee speared a hunk of meat loaf and stuffed it into his mouth. Aden, Roman, and Ray burst out laughing.

  Malinda wrinkled her nose at her bruder. “Funny, Atlee.” She picked up her fork and stabbed a slice of pickled beets.

  “She’ll be like the wind just blowing through. Whoosh!” Roman picked up where Atlee left off.

  Adam and Ray laughed harder. Sam, who had seemed lost in his own world somewhere all throughout the meal, chuckled. Even Rufus hid a smile behind his napkin.

  “Now, buwe, don’t tease.” Saloma shook her finger at her sons. “Our Malinda looks fine, just a bit too thin.”

  “Ach! Before I forget,” Rufus interrupted. “A letter came for you today, Malinda. It’s with the stack of mail on the counter.”

  “For me?” Who would be writing to her?

  “The return address said it was from that hospital in Ohio. If it’s a bill, just leave it for me.”

  Malinda nodded. That’s probably exactly what it was. Or maybe it was one of those customer satisfaction surveys someone had mentioned when she’d been discharged. She picked at the food on her plate and managed to eat a few bites of meat loaf and boiled potatoes. Her stomach should be able to handle that. Of course, Mamm set a huge piece of peach pie in front of her when she passed out dessert to everyone else.

  “Mamm, this looks great, but I don’t think I can eat it all. I don’t want to waste your pie.”

  “You’re absolutely right, Malinda. We don’t want to waste Mamm’s pie.” Atlee reached to snatch Malinda’s plate.

  “Eat your own!” Saloma smacked Atlee’s hand.

  “I’m only trying to help her out, Mamm.”

  “You’re only trying to get a second piece of pie. I don’t know where you put the mountain of food you eat.” Saloma turned toward Malinda. “Just eat what you can. You always liked peach pie, and the early peaches are coming in now.”

  “I do like peach pie. Here, let me cut this piece in half. I’ll try to eat half, and someone else can have the rest.”

  “Such a generous schweschder.” Atlee’s voice came out muffled by the pie he was chewing. He reached again for Malinda’s plate.

  “I said someone, not necessarily Atlee.” Malinda scooted her plate out of reach. She had missed her bruders’ banter while she had been in Ohio with Aenti Mary.

  When the kitchen had been restored to order, Malinda picked up her letter from the pile of ads and assorted junk mail on the counter and stuffed it in her pocket. It didn’t look like the usual bill envelopes she’d seen before, so she assumed it was that survey. She’d complete it in her room after her evening prayers.

  * * *

  Malinda trudged up the stairs, weariness seeping into her bones. She hoped she hadn’t overdone it today, but she had wanted to prove—mainly to herself—that she was a fully functioning, capable member of the family and community. Her right hand, on its way to her head to remove her kapp, changed directions and plunged into her pocket to extract the envelope she’d stuffed in there earlier. She really didn’t feel up to answering any sort of survey questions with another busy day only a few hours away. She merely wanted to climb into her bed and sink into sleep. She’d better glance at the contents of the envelope, though, just to be sure a bill did not lurk inside.

  Malinda slid her finger beneath the flap of the envelope and tugged out a single sheet of paper. It must be a very short survey. At least it wasn’t a bill. She unfolded the paper and gasped as she read the handwritten words. Todd McWilliams. Dr. McWilliams. Why on earth would he write her such a letter—any letter? Malinda felt almost positive busy doctors did not take the time to handwrite letters to their patients, and even if they did, by some peculiar chance, they certainly didn’t write the kind of message this letter contained.

  She stumbled across the small bedroom and dropped onto the quilt-covered bed to reread the letter. It started out fine. The doctor inquired about her health and expressed his hope for a remission. Then it got weird. He said he missed seeing her every day. Malinda’s face flamed when she reread the words where he described her beauty.

  No one had ever called her beautiful. Sure, like anyone else, she hoped she was pleasing to look at, but the Amish did not dwell on looks. The women all dressed in the same style dresses, though color may vary slightly; they all parted their hair down the middle and twisted it into a bun; they all pinned a white kapp on top of their heads. Sameness. Conformity. It was their way.

  Malinda’s hands trembled as she continued reading. The doctor continued on by saying how much he wanted to see her again. He mentioned a conference he might attend in Baltimore in the fall and said he might be able to visit her then. Could he find his way all the way down here to St. Mary’s County?

  Of course he could! Englischers had all kinds of fancy contraptions in their cars, and even on their phones. She’d heard they could find out all sorts of information on their computers. She could only hope the doctor would be too busy to track her down, or better yet, he wouldn’t attend the conference at all. She planned to join the next baptismal class in late summer. By fall, she’d be getting ready to join the church.

  Ach ! What should she do with this letter? Should she answer to say she felt better and, by the way, please don’t try to find her? Had she done something or said something when she’d been in a groggy state that had given the doctor the wrong impression? She thought she’d tried to discourage him.

  What should she do? For one thing, she couldn’t let Daed see this letter. She hastily stuffed the sheet of paper back inside the envelope, scooted across the room to pull open a bureau drawer, and thrust the offending note beneath her undergarments. She finished preparing for bed but knew sleep would now be out of the question. Who would have thought a Plain girl could get into such a predicament?

  Chapter Six

  Malinda’s strength returned a little more each day. Her stomach calmed so she could eat a bit better, much to Saloma’s delight. She kept up with her chores but often caught Saloma’s watchful eyes on her. No matter how busy she stayed, she couldn’t keep the words of that letter from running across her brain over and over again.

  “I think you need to get out of the house for a bit, Dochder,” Saloma announced on a Friday afternoon.

  “Huh? What do you mean, Mamm? I’ve been outside plenty. I’ve hung out laundry and weeded the garden and picked vegetables and—”

  “Let me rephrase that. You need to get away from the house, and I have the perfect solution.”

  “I really am fine, Mamm. I don’t need to go anywhere.”

  “Well, I need some cheese for supper, so you can take a little outing to the cheese factory for me.”

  “Can’t Atlee bring home whatever you need if you tell him tonight?”

  Saloma shook her head. “Nee
, your daed has his heart set on my macaroni and cheese, and I don’t have enough cheese.”

  “Daed won’t mind waiting another day.”

  Saloma continued as though she hadn’t heard Malinda. “I also need you to pick up a couple of spools of thread from the quilt shop.” She paused to fish around in her pocket, and then held up little snips of fabric. “I need two spools of this medium blue color here and two of the light lavender color here.” She pointed out the colors on the fabric she held out to Malinda.

  Malinda sighed and tucked the clippings into her own pocket. “I’ll go hitch up.”

  “You can manage that okay?”

  “Sure.”

  “Wait a minute. Let me get you some money.”

  Malinda struggled to curb her tongue and not complain. If Mamm had told Atlee at breakfast yesterday, he could have brought the cheese home last night. As for the thread, she could probably rummage through her mamm’s thread box and find exactly the right shades already there. Mamm just wanted to get her out of the house, but Malinda felt more comfortable at home, away from pitying glances. And then, too, Isaac Hostetler worked at the cheese factory. She wanted to see Isaac. Her heart even leaped at the thought, but she didn’t want his look of pity.

  She talked to the big, sleek, brown horse as she hitched him to the buggy. “Are you ready for an outing on this hot summer day, Chestnut?” The horse snorted and stomped. Malinda’s fingers fumbled briefly when her mind wandered to that letter again. “Maybe we do both need an outing.” Malinda patted the horse. Maybe Isaac wouldn’t be working today.

  Malinda kept Chestnut trotting at a moderate pace. She was in no great hurry, and she didn’t want to overtax the horse in the afternoon heat. She stopped at the quilt shop first to pick up the thread she was almost one hundred percent sure her mamm did not need. She would make the cheese factory the last stop. Even though she’d brought a small cooler along, she didn’t want to arrive home with gooey, melted cheese.

  The ladies working on a quilt in the back of the shop had plied her with so many questions about her health and her trip to Ohio, the simple stop for thread stretched into a visit much longer than Malinda had intended. She knew the women really cared and weren’t simply being nosy. It’s just she didn’t relish all the attention to her health, or lack thereof. She clucked to Chestnut and set out for the cheese factory so Mamm could prepare Daed’s favorite macaroni and cheese dish. She couldn’t believe Daed would have minded waiting a day or two, but when Mamm took a notion to do something—or in this case, for someone else to do something—there was no talking her out of it. Malinda sighed. She’d zip in, buy the cheese, and zip back out, all relatively unnoticed, she hoped.