One True Path Read online

  “Danki, I’ll do that.”

  She walked back inside and shut the door. Abram stood there for a moment wondering if he should have told her what he’d seen. He took a sip of coffee and found it had grown cold and bitter. Grimacing, he tossed the contents over the porch railing and went inside.

  His mother glanced up and smiled at him as she stood at the stove. “Ready for some breakfast?”

  He nodded and walked over to the percolator to pour himself another cup of coffee. “Why don’t you let me cook?”

  “I like to cook for you.”

  Abram leaned down and kissed her cheek. “And I don’t mind admitting I like you cooking for me. But you don’t look like you slept well. Why didn’t you stay in bed?”

  She made a tsking noise and shook her head at him. “If you’re wanting me to be lazy, you’ve got the wrong woman.”

  “Not wanting you to be lazy. Just don’t want you to overdo.”

  “The physical therapist said I’m doing so well I can cut down to one visit a week for the next few weeks.”

  “Well, that’s terrific. I guess pretty soon you’ll be turning somersaults.” He snatched a piece of bacon and with the ease of years of such behavior escaped a rap on the knuckles with her spatula.

  “Very funny. Sit down and get those big feet out of my way.”

  He did as she ordered and watched her flip a pancake onto a plate piled with them. She brought it to the table along with the plate of bacon, and while she probably thought his attention was on the food, he was noticing her limp had become barely noticeable.

  One of the worst moments of his life had been when he got the call she’d fallen and been taken to the hospital. His father had died the year before from a heart attack, so he’d been terrified he’d lose another parent. The doctor had come into the waiting room and told him she’d broken her leg in three places. A broken leg. He’d sighed in relief. He could handle a broken leg. The doctor operated, and his mother had emerged from the hospital with a leg she joked had more metal in it than one of those Englisch robots.

  The reality was the fall had cost her so much. Abram knew how independent she’d always been, but he’d convinced her to move into the dawdi haus here so he could make sure she was taken care of. She’d only agreed because it made it easier for him during the harvest.

  Abram constructed a pile of pancakes on his plate, layering four of them with several strips of bacon between. He spread a layer of butter on the pancakes, a puddle of syrup, then cut into the stack. The first bite tasted like heaven after hours of chores. He chewed and watched his mother put one pancake on her plate and pour just a trickle of syrup on it.

  His mother shook her head as she watched him eat. “You’ve been doing that since you were a boy.”

  “My best invention.” He took another bite.

  “I love you, but you’re in a rut,” she told him.

  “Am not.”

  “Are, too.”

  “Why change something that works?” he asked her as he swallowed another bite.

  “I’m worried about you.”

  He paused, his fork halfway to his mouth. “Worried about me? Why?”

  “I looked out the window before you came in. I saw you standing there watching Rachel Ann again. When are you going to say something to her?”

  “Gotta go,” he said, picking up his plate and carrying it to the sink. “See you later.”

  “We’ll talk later!”

  He grinned as he grabbed his hat and left the house.

  2

  Rachel Ann plucked the clothespins from the sheets hanging on the clothesline and dropped them into the pin basket. The brisk wind flapped the sheets at her face, and she breathed in the fresh scent of sun-warmed cotton. Laundry day was long and hard, but there was nothing better than sleeping in sheets dried outdoors. Sheets dried with a scented paper sheet of fabric softener she heard Englischers used just couldn’t be as good.

  Sam ran through piles of leaves, shrieking and scooping up handfuls of them and throwing them over his head. When he ran toward her she stepped in front of her laundry basket. “Stop right there! You’re not getting my clean laundry dirty.”

  He just laughed at her and grabbed at the little crib quilt she’d folded and laid on top of the basket. “Mine.”

  “That’s not to play with in the yard, Sam! Give it back!” He ran from her, leading her on a merry chase around the yard.

  “You come back, you little monster! I have to get supper started!” She wanted to make something special for dessert. Her daed always loved it when she baked.

  Giggling, he ran, his pudgy little legs pumping. She caught him near the fence by the road and swung him up in her arms. “You’re not supposed to be over on this side of the yard! Now give me that and go play over by the house.”

  She set him on his feet and tried to snatch the little quilt before he got away, but he was too fast for her. He ran in the direction of the family dog. Brownie jumped up and ran for the front porch. Poor dog, thought Rachel Ann.

  A car horn honked and she glanced over to see Michael pulling his car up in front of the house. He waved for her to walk over. She checked to see if Sam sat on the porch playing with Brownie.

  “How about a ride?” Michael asked, throwing his arm across the seat. “I put the top down just for you.”

  Rachel Ann bit her lip. “I can’t. I have to get the laundry in and supper started.”

  “Just a short drive,” he urged. “All work and no play makes Jill a dull girl.”

  “Who’s Jill?”

  “You, silly.”

  “I can’t right now,” she said, backing away from temptation. “Maybe later.”

  Michael frowned. “I might be busy later.” He gunned the engine. “See you.”

  He accelerated from the curb, taking off with such speed the rear end fishtailed—swaying from side to side. Rachel Ann watched the car spew up a trail of dust before it stopped, did a U-turn, and came roaring back up the road toward her.

  Behind her she heard Sam yelling, and then suddenly he was dashing into the street, right into the path of the car.

  “Sam! Nee!” Rachel Ann screamed and waved her hands and ran after him.

  Michael slammed on his brakes and swerved, but the bumper caught Sam and the impact tossed him into the air like a rag doll. He landed in a heap in the middle of the road and lay there, unmoving.

  Sobbing, Rachel Ann knelt on the road and tears dripped down onto Sam’s face as she bent over him. “Sam? Wake up, Sam. Please?”

  She slid her hands under his little body to lift him and felt a hand on her shoulder.

  “No! You can’t move him!” Abram said sharply. “You might hurt him worse.”

  A car door slammed and Michael appeared. “I didn’t mean to hit him! I couldn’t stop.”

  Abram looked up. “Call 911.”

  Michael backed away. “I have to go. I can’t—”

  “Stop right there!” Abram told him, and he stood up. “We Amish forgive, but your Englisch police would charge you with hit-and-run. Now call 911, and let’s get Sam the help he needs. Rachel Ann and I will both tell the police it was an accident.”

  Michael ran a shaking hand through his hair and nodded. He pulled out a cell phone and made the call. “We need an ambulance,” he shouted into the phone. “There’s been an accident.”

  Rachel Ann took the quilt Sam still clutched in one hand and gently eased it from his fingers. She covered him with it and smoothed his hair back from his forehead. “Wake up, Sam. Please wake up.”

  Abram’s mother rushed up with a blanket. “Here, cover him with this. Keep him warm.”

  “Danki.” Rachel Ann tucked the blanket around Sam.

  “I’ll pray for Sam and all of you,” Lovina said. She patted Rachel Ann on the shoulder.

  Rachel Ann glanced down the road as she heard a siren. “Sam, wake up. You love fire engines. Don’t you want to see the fire engine? And you get to ride in an ambula
nce and have the siren make lots of noise.”

  There was no holding back the sobs as he lay still, even as the vehicles came to a stop just a few feet away.

  She looked at Abram. “Oh, Abram, he’s not waking up.”

  “Here, we need to let them help Sam,” he said, pulling her to her feet and moving her out of the way of the paramedics hurrying toward them.

  “Are you the mother?”

  Rachel Ann stared at the paramedic in front of her. “What? Oh, no, he’s my brother. My mamm isn’t home. I was watching him.”

  Rachel Ann answered one paramedic’s questions, while she watched the others check Sam over, then carefully move him onto a gurney. He looked even smaller and more fragile. They loaded him into an ambulance and looked toward her.

  Abram pushed her toward the ambulance. “Go. I’ll find your parents and send them to the hospital.”

  One of the paramedics helped her climb into the back of the vehicle, and she sat down on the metal bench. Just before the doors were shut, she looked out and saw Abram standing there holding Sam’s little quilt in one hand, his mother’s blanket in the other.

  She looked down at the skirt of her dress marked with two little handprints from when Sam had clutched at it. Adorable, annoying little Sam. All she wanted was for him to be alright.

  * * *

  “I understand you were a witness?”

  Abram turned from staring after the ambulance to see a police officer looking at him expectantly.

  “Yes, I was. Sam—the little boy—ran out into the road and the driver couldn’t stop.”

  The officer wrote down what he said, and Abram stood there feeling frustrated when he wanted to go get Rachel Ann’s parents. But he’d promised Michael he would say Sam had been hit by accident.

  Michael stood to the side of the road looking white and shaken. Abram couldn’t help feeling a little sorry for him. As soon as the officer finished with his questions, he took the front steps two at a time and ran into the house. The door slammed behind him, sounding like a gunshot.

  He hit speed dial on his cell and called a driver and asked if he could come right away. He was in luck—the driver was in between runs and said he’d be there in twenty minutes.

  Abram disconnected the call and looked at his mother. “We’ll pick up Martha in town at the grocery store and Leroy at the furniture store.” He reached for his jacket and checked his pockets for money.

  “Here,” his mother said. She pulled some bills from her change purse and held them out to him.

  “Danki. I’ll pay you back.”

  “Don’t be silly. I hope Sam is allrecht.”

  “Me, too. Pray for him. I’ll see you later.”

  Alfred, a driver Abram used occasionally, arrived a few minutes later. They stopped off at the grocery store since it was closest.

  He found Martha, Rachel Ann’s mother, working as a cashier in the front of the store. Her smile quickly faded when she saw him stride toward her.

  “What’s wrong?”

  There was no easy way to say it. “Sam got hit by a car. He’s already on his way to the hospital. Go get your things and I’ll talk to your boss.”

  “Mein Gott!” She went pale, but she did as he said and hurried off toward the back of the store.

  Abram knew her boss wouldn’t be happy to lose an employee in the busiest time of the day, but he couldn’t refuse. He muttered his hope that Sam would be okay and to let him know if she needed the next day off.

  Then they were off to get Rachel Ann’s father at the furniture store. Martha brushed the tears from her cheeks and insisted she could tell her mann the bad news. She returned with him a few minutes later.

  “We appreciate your coming to get us,” Leroy said gruffly. “You could have just called.”

  “I thought this was the fastest way to get both of you to the hospital,” Abram said, shrugging off the thanks.

  “It was kind,” Martha said, shaking her head. “How bad is he, do you have any idea? Was he—” she broke off, struggling for composure. “Was he awake when they put him in the ambulance?”

  Again, the truth was hard—but unavoidable. “Nee,” he had to say. “But the paramedics were there so quickly. He couldn’t have gotten treatment faster.”

  They lapsed into silence as they rode to the hospital. Abram paid the driver while Martha and Leroy almost leaped out of the van the minute it pulled up in front of the hospital’s emergency entrance. When Abram joined them he found Rachel Ann sobbing in her mother’s arms.

  “I’m so sorry! It’s all my fault Sam got hurt!” she cried.

  “It was an accident,” Abram inserted. “He ran out so quickly the driver couldn’t stop.”

  “Are you the parents?” a nurse asked them. “The doctor wants to talk to you.”

  She led them away, leaving Abram standing there with Rachel Ann. He pulled out a handkerchief and gave it to her. “Why don’t we go take a walk while they talk? Maybe get some coffee. ”

  “Look at me,” she said, staring at her dress. It was smudged with dirt and bore bloodstains from poor Sam’s head. “I can’t go anywhere looking like this.”

  “Nobody’s going to care,” he said. “Everyone has their own problems in a hospital, Rachel Ann. Kumm, it’ll be good to get some coffee and sit down.”

  Rachel Ann glanced in the direction her parents had gone.

  Abram touched her elbow. “They’re here now. Let them see to Sam.”

  Finally, she nodded. They walked to the cafeteria and got coffee. Rachel Ann shook her head when he tried to get her to choose something to eat so he put a chicken salad sandwich for her and a roast beef sandwich for himself on his tray.

  They found a quiet corner away from other diners and sat down.

  “Eat,” he said as he placed her sandwich in front of her. She frowned at him.

  “You always were so bossy,” she complained. But she picked up half of the sandwich and began eating.

  “Thank you for getting my parents.”

  He shrugged. “It was the least I could do.”

  She met his gaze. “No, it was so wonderful you thought to do it. Not everyone would have.”

  Something passed between them. Abram felt like Rachel Ann was looking at him—really looking at him—for maybe the first time since they’d known each other. The noise of other diners, of the cafeteria staff, faded away. Time passed as they stared at each other.

  The screech of a chair being dragged across the floor jarred them back to reality.

  Abram glanced over and saw another couple taking up residence at the next table. Their quiet corner was no more.

  Rachel Ann pulled her gaze away and began eating again. Abram picked up his sandwich and bit into it and wondered what had just happened. Had Rachel Ann looked at him the way he’d thought?

  “I hope Michael didn’t get into trouble,” she said after a long moment.

  Abram shook his head. “I told the officer it was an accident.”

  He noticed she kept glancing at the nearby clock and was eating quickly. She was obviously eager to get back upstairs.

  “I’m going to go get some coffee to take to your parents.”

  They found her parents in the waiting room. Both of them looked pale, and her mother wept quietly into a handkerchief.

  “Sam has a concussion and a broken leg,” Leroy said. “They’ve taken him into surgery to fix the leg.”

  “Did he wake up before they took him up?” Rachel Ann asked.

  Martha shook her head. “They did a CAT scan before they took him to surgery and said he has a concussion. They don’t know when he’ll wake up.” She wiped her eyes with her handkerchief.

  Abram handed her and Leroy their coffee, and he and Rachel Ann sat on the sofa opposite them. No one spoke and Abram couldn’t think of anything else to do. A nurse poked her head in about two hours later and said the doctor would be out soon to talk to them.

  “How is Sam doing?” Rachel Ann spoke up, but t
he nurse was already gone.

  Another hour passed before the doctor came to talk to them.

  “Sam came through the surgery well. He’s going to have a cast and have to be on bed rest for a while, but children are still growing so they heal faster than adults. He’ll be out of recovery soon and you can see him. ”

  “When will he wake up?” Leroy asked.

  “I’m sorry, we just don’t know.”

  “Thank you, Doctor,” Martha said in a subdued tone.

  An hour later, Abram followed Leroy, Martha, and Rachel Ann up to the pediatric unit and waited outside while they sat with him. Rachel Ann emerged a few minutes later with reddened eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

  “Mamm and Daed said for me to go on home,” she told Abram in a dull voice. “They must hate me for what happened to Sam.”

  “They don’t hate you,” he said quickly. “Come on, let’s get you home. Here, sit down and I’ll call the driver.”

  “I don’t blame them,” he heard her saying as he pulled out his cell phone. “I should have watched Sam better.”

  He made the call and turned back to Rachel Ann. But she wouldn’t talk to him, wouldn’t look at him, all the way home.

  “I’ll take you to the hospital in the morning,” he said when they got out in front of their homes.

  She nodded, but he wasn’t sure she heard him. He watched her walk away, her shoulders slumped.

  * * *

  Rachel Ann walked into her home and shut and locked the door behind her. The sound of the lock echoed in the quiet.

  It didn’t feel like home for a minute. There were no delicious smells coming from the kitchen, no sounds of Sam running through the house. No Daed sitting in his favorite chair reading The Budget at this time of the evening.

  And it was all her fault.

  Her feet dragged as she climbed the stairs to her room, hung up her jacket, and set her purse on her dresser. It was tempting to throw herself on her bed and cry herself to sleep, but she felt she’d cried herself out.

  She was wrong. As she walked past Sam’s room, she made the mistake of glancing inside. The youth bed their father had made for him stood in a corner of the room. His teddy bear and favorite bedtime story book lay on the sheets. Rachel Ann felt tears burn against the backs of her eyelids again as she remembered how gleefully he’d run around the yard with his quilt this afternoon.