Lancaster County Reckoning. Kit Wilkinson
a Goliath of a man, one continuous string of muscle. If he had been around earlier, whenever the attack had taken place, she doubted anyone would have touched Jesse.
Poor Jesse. She knelt beside him and held his hand. Thomas sat opposite, his eyes closed. She guessed that he was praying as she saw his lips move in silent speech from time to time. She was thankful he asked her no more questions.
And he’d been right. It wasn’t long before help arrived. The EMS workers quickly strapped Jesse on a gurney and started him on fluids. She and Thomas followed the gurney to the ambulance, and watched as it was loaded inside.
On the one hand, she was thankful for Thomas’s presence and his ability to answer questions she couldn’t—about any medical conditions Jesse had and whether he was allergic to any medications. But on the other hand, she couldn’t help resenting him just a little for knowing her own father so much better than she did herself.
When the ambulance was ready to drive away, she and Thomas looked at each other.
“I’m going to follow. You want a ride with me?” she asked.
“Are you sure?” he said hesitantly.
Was he kidding? After that phone call, she wasn’t exactly keen on being alone. She nodded.
Soon, they were at the hospital. The hours blurred together as they waited for news on Jesse’s condition.
Small groups of Amish men and women came through the waiting area. They would talk quietly with Thomas, glance her way once or twice then leave. Thomas stayed on one side of the room. She chose to sit at the other side. She didn’t want to talk or meet more Amish people. She didn’t want to explain who she was or why she was there.
And certainly she didn’t want to talk about the phone call. She didn’t even want to think about it. That hard robotic voice and the person who, unaccountably, knew her. Knew who she was. And knew her connection to Jesse. Someone who, if they really were connected to the attack against Jesse as they’d implied, had almost killed her father. The thought of it sent a shiver down her spine.
She shook away the terrifying thoughts. Right now she just wanted some news about her father. Was he going to live? Was she going to find out why everyone had lied to her for so many years? Or was Jesse going to leave her almost as quickly as he had come back into her life?
“I’m going to get a coffee. Could I get you one?” Thomas stood over her. His long dark curls, freed from his black felt hat, which he twisted nervously in his hands, sprung around his tanned face.
“Sure.” Darcy reached in her bag for money.
“No. It’s on me,” he said. “But why don’t you come down to the cafeteria with me? It will be good to sit in a different seat for a few minutes.”
He hadn’t seemed interested in talking to her in the hours up to now. Why the change? Realization struck as she recalled watching him speak quietly to a doctor at the end of the hall a few minutes earlier.
“You’ve had news?” Darcy stood so quickly her head felt light.
Instead of answering, Thomas nodded toward the elevator bank. She followed him out of the waiting area, into the elevator, then down the hall to the cafeteria. She wanted news of Jesse. Even if it meant talking to this stranger.
“Thank you for the ride to the hospital,” he said, handing her a hot cup.
“Of course,” she said. “Thanks for the coffee.”
They sat opposite each other at one of the cafeteria tables. Darcy stared into the black liquid, watching steam swirl up from the cup. She took a drink. It was bitter and stale, and as it hit her stomach, she was reminded that she’d skipped breakfast and hadn’t had a chance to eat lunch.
“So, how is he?” she asked at last. She had a feeling that the news wasn’t going to be good or he would have already told her.
“They are operating on him.” Thomas’s voice was quiet and strained with emotion. “But...apparently there’s some internal bleeding and they are having a hard time stopping it.”
“So what does that mean?”
“They are going to try another procedure. If it works, it will stabilize his condition.”
“And if not?”
“If it doesn’t work...then they don’t expect him to live through the night.”
“What?” Darcy had not expected good news but she hadn’t expected anything as bad as this. “That can’t be. There must be something we can do. Maybe we need a second opinion?”
She pushed away from the table, fighting tears of rage and fear. Thomas grabbed her gently by the wrist. His hand felt strong and warm as he pulled her back to her seat.
“Dr. Jamison is one of the best ER doctors in the Northeast. He and his team are doing all they can. It’s in God’s hands.”
Seemed more like Jesse was in this doctor’s hands, not God’s. And she wondered why one of the best doctors would be working all the way out here. But she couldn’t muster the energy to ask.
Darcy slumped back into the chair. She felt so out of place and helpless. And confused. It wasn’t like her at all. “It’s just that... I don’t know how to deal with all of this. I just found out my father has actually been alive all this time and now he’s...well, beaten almost to death. I just wish there was something I could do to help. And yet, I don’t even know if it’s my place to help or if Jesse would even want me to.”
“It’s okay. It will all get sorted out. These things take time. The doctors are doing everything they can to save him. Plus, I know Jesse pretty well and I can tell you for sure and certain that he is a very strong man.”
“I just hate doing nothing. Just sitting here and waiting.”
“Well, there is something you can do. Something we all can do.”
“What’s that?” She lifted her head.
“We can pray.”
“Oh.” Pray? Really? Darcy looked away and tried to keep her facial expression neutral. It wasn’t that she thought praying was stupid. It just wasn’t for her. “Of course... I guess I was thinking of doing something more active and practical, maybe, like finding who did this to him.”
“Ja, well, one thing at a time. Plus, I’m sure the police have been notified about the beating. They will look for whoever is responsible. There is no need for us to go anywhere until Jesse’s condition is stable.” There was a lovely lilt to his voice. He had a faint accent that she hadn’t noticed before. “If Jesse were awake, he would be praying. That I am sure of. But you would know that, of course, since you’re his daughter, ja?”
Darcy swallowed hard. She put her elbows on the table and surrounded the warm cup of coffee with her hands. “I only met Jesse a few weeks ago. And we mostly talked about me.” She regretted that now.
“But you are his daughter?” He stared out at her from under a wisp of dark curls. He tilted his head, focusing hard on her face. “Truly Jesse Troyer’s daughter?”
Strange emotions flowed through her. “I’m afraid so. And I understand your surprise.”
He grinned, revealing a beautiful set of white teeth. “Ja, it is a surprise. But truly, if I hadn’t known Jesse for the past twenty years, I would not question ye so many times. You have his eyes, for certain.”
In spite of herself, Darcy smiled a little, remembering meeting Jesse for the first time and feeling that shock of recognition when faced with those unusual dark gray eyes she’d seen in the mirror every day of her life.
“But it is just that, well...he never mentioned you,” Thomas said.
“No one ever mentioned him to me, either.” Darcy rubbed her temples, thinking back to when she’d first met Jesse