An Amish Harvest. Patricia Davids
turned his head to the side as if listening for her. After a long minute, he muttered, “Fat chance I’ll ask her for help.”
She smiled. He wasn’t sure she had gone. He was testing to see if she was still about. He kept his head cocked with one ear toward the door. She silently slipped out, taking care to avoid the squeaking stair treads she had noted on the way up.
Rebecca was used to finding her way around strange kitchens. A quick check of the refrigerator and the pantry gave her the fixing for a hearty chicken and noodle casserole. That would be easy for Samuel to eat and filling for the rest of the family. After putting the chicken on to boil, she started the laundry in the propane-powered washer in the basement, swept the kitchen and washed the kitchen floor. While she worked, she kept an ear out for any sounds from Samuel’s room. She was prepared for his call, but not for the loud thud that shook the ceiling above her.
She dashed up the stairs and found him sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed. There was blood on the bandage covering his left hand. She rushed to his side. “Samuel Bowman, what have you done to yourself?”
* * *
Samuel gritted his teeth against the unbearable pain in his hands. He couldn’t breathe let alone answer her.
“Are you hurt anywhere else?” Her voice penetrated the fog in his brain.
“Why? Isn’t this bad enough? Maybe I can break a leg. Would that make you happy?”
“I’m sorry you’re hurting, but that’s not an excuse to be rude.”
The pain receded, but his humiliation grew by leaps and bounds. This was exactly what he had been afraid would happen. Hitting the floor hurt every bit as much as he knew it would.
This was her fault. “Why didn’t you come back? You said you only be gone for a little bit. I was stuck in that chair for ages.”
“I’m sorry about that. Forgive me. I thought you would call for me when you were ready to go back to bed. Let me help you up. Do you think you can stand, or should I fetch your father or one of your brothers?”
“I can do it. Get out of my way.”
“Very well.”
He heard her move aside. He gathered his legs under him and lurched to his feet. He would’ve fallen again if she hadn’t stepped in front of him and placed her hands on his chest.
“I’ve got you. Relax. Take a deep breath. Get your bearings.”
He tried, but it was hard to do with a woman holding him up. The flowery fragrance was from her hair. The top of her head came to his chin. Was her hair blond or pale brown? He couldn’t recall. He remembered her pale face streaked with tears at her husband’s funeral and the flash of gratitude in her eyes when she noticed the cedar panels in Walter’s coffin, but Samuel wasn’t sure if her eyes were blue or gray.
“Are you steady now?” She stepped back but kept a firm grip on his arms.
He was dizzy, but he wasn’t about to admit it to her. His hands still smarted. “I’m fine.”
“You could’ve fooled me.”
“This is funny to you, isn’t it?”
There was a slight pause, then she said, “Maybe just a little. The bed is four steps to your left.”
Determined not to give her anything else to laugh at, he shuffled in the direction of the bed until he felt the mattress against his leg. He sat down with a sigh. Gingerly lowering himself onto his side, he raised his feet. She was there helping lift them and slipping them under the covers.
“I hope you have learned your lesson,” she said sternly.
Was she really going to lecture him? “What lesson would that be?”
“It is less painful to ask for help.”
“It would’ve been less painful if I had stayed in bed in the first place.”
“I can see you are a glass half-empty kind of fellow. We will work on that.”
“I’m not sure I will survive any more of your lessons.”
“Why didn’t you call for me?”
“Why didn’t you return?”
“I didn’t realize how stubborn you are. I won’t make that mistake again.”
“Not with me you won’t. As soon as my father comes in, he will take you home.”
“Something you don’t realize is how stubborn I can be, too. I’m not going anywhere. Your mother needs help. Whether you believe that or not. I am here to help her by looking after you. We got off to a bad start, Samuel. Let’s try to get along.”
“A bad start? You poured water on my sheets.”
“Only because you wouldn’t do as I asked. In the future, we will both have a better understanding of our limits.”
“Don’t get comfortable here. You’ll be leaving.”
“Oh, ye of little faith. It’s time for your pain pill. According to your father, the doctor wants you taking them every four to six hours. I’m sure you must need one now.”
He did, but he hated to admit it so he kept silent. She returned a few moments later and said, “Open wide.”
He did need something for the pain. Reluctantly, he opened his mouth and swallowed the pill with a long drink of water from the straw she held for him. “Danki.”
“I’m going to mark on your bandage with an ink pen. I promise to be careful.”
“Why?”
“I need to make sure the bleeding has stopped.”
“I’m bleeding?”
“Only a small amount through the bandages on your left hand. If I mark the edge of the bloodstain, then I can check in a little while and make sure it isn’t getting bigger.”
He braced himself for the task, but she completed it without hurting him. She straightened the bed and turned his pillow. The fresh coolness against his neck helped ease his tension.
“I’m going downstairs now. If you need anything, you can call for me, or you can make a loud thump on the floor again, whichever you prefer.”
“Nice to know you enjoyed seeing me fall on my face.”
“Actually, I didn’t get to see it. Give me some warning next time so I don’t miss it again.”
“Are you deliberately trying to make me angry?”
“Are you deliberately trying to make me out to be a cruel shrew?”
“I didn’t say you were cruel.”
“Oh, just a shrew.”
“You’re twisting my words!”
He heard her approach the bed. “Samuel, you will be fine in a very short time. I know it doesn’t feel like it now, but you will. This road to recovery is painful and frustrating, but it has an end. Your mother needs help and I need the job. Let’s not fight. If we carry on like this in public people will think we’re married.”
“We wouldn’t want people to think that.”
“Exactly.”
He hadn’t considered that she needed work. She was a widow and dependent on others for her livelihood. His conscience smote him. The Lord compelled men of faith to care for widows and orphans. “I can be civil if you can.”
“Goot. We’ll get along fine, Sammy, as long as you do what I say.”
Just when he thought she was being sensible. “It’s Samuel. We’ll get along fine, Becky, if you listen to what I