“When you come over to our house, you can see the flower garden, although it’s not in bloom yet.” He was changing the subject, perhaps for the best. “Of course, you’ll have to wait a few months to see the bounteous blooms. My dochders have started weeding it, but there’s much to be done. They want to keep it beautiful in their mamm’s honor.”
“I can imagine so.” Always, she would come first.
“In truth, our marriage got off to a rocky start. I don’t know what I was expecting. That somehow she’d read my mind and fulfill all my wishes.” He gazed across the length of the greenhouse. “Almost immediately we were awaiting our first child, and my wife was sick day and night. My mamm assured me morning sickness is common, but I grew to resent her and the baby, who was born with colic. And then another child arrived right on its heels.” His beard wagged as he shook his head.
“My wife and I were both shocked and saddened when someone nominated me for minister and I was chosen by lot. In the blink of an eye, I had two full-time jobs. That was in your parents’ district, but it was bursting, beyond capacity with more than two hundred people. We had to split. That was when you were so young you wouldn’t have remembered me anyway. And then, after the split, much to our disappointment and horror, the Lord chose me to replace the elderly bishop with heart problems. I know now we were being selfish, but my wife and I both cried that day.” One side of his mouth curved into a smile. “I remember the looks of relief on the other men’s faces. Their pats of condolence on my back.”
We were skirting the issue, but I didn’t dare come right out and ask him what his plans were. Was he set on remarrying in the near future? Marrying season was in the fall and winter, after the crops had been harvested. But I’d heard widowers could marry anytime.
Huffing and puffing, Beatrice bustled into the greenhouse. “Caro Dio. Bad news, Eva.” She held up my drooping kapp. “I turned the iron on too warm and scorched your kapp.” She inhaled another breath. “But worse than that, Jake called to say Amos fell.”
“How bad a fall?” Harvey asked.
“Did he lose consciousness?” I said, not knowing what her answer would mean.
“I didn’t think to ask questions like that, silly me,” Beatrice said. “But Ruth is frantic.”
“Did you actually speak to her or to Jake?” I had to wonder if this was a ruse to keep me from going to Harvey’s.
“Jake called me, but he passed his phone to Ruth, who said Amos had been determined to walk to the kitchen, where he lost his balance and fell against the counter.”
“Where are they now?” Harvey asked.
“In the Lancaster County Hospital emergency room. He’s getting x-rayed as soon as possible.” Beatrice held my ruined kapp as if it were a wounded bird.
“I’d better go and see for myself,” Harvey said. “Since I’ve been to see them once, I’m sure they expect to see me there. I’ve heard their own bishop is still housebound.”
“By buggy?” Beatrice asked. “It’s too far from here.”
“No, I’ll hire a driver. May I use a phone, Beatrice?”
“Sure, come with me to the house. I’d like to join you if you don’t mind. Ruth and I go way back.”
“Yah, I know you do.”
“I’ll come too.” In my inner ear I could hear Amos calling my name.
“No need.” Harvey’s expression grew complex, his eyes narrowing. “Beatrice and I can handle this.”
I set the African violet back down amongst the other potted plants. “But if Amos is dying, I want to say goodbye to him.”
“Eva has been the only one he wants to see,” Beatrice said. “I can testify to that.” She channeled her words to me. “But I have to wonder if you’re only going to see Jake.”
“I’m going there for me. I won’t be dissuaded by what others think. Just like you said, Beatrice.”
She readjusted her bun and reset a hairpin. “Stephen would probably drive us, but there’s only room for two passengers.”
“We can’t rely on him for everything.” I recalled the many times he’d helped me out. “If you don’t want me to go, I’ll find my own ride. There’s a Mennonite driver’s card in the café. I’ll call him.”
“I have his card in the house too, and I need to let the dogs out while we wait.”
“We could all use him,” Harvey said. “I’ll pay the fare. I’ll put my horse in the barn.”
I got the feeling he wanted to be in charge, so I agreed.
FORTY-SEVEN
An hour later, our van neared the hospital’s handsome facade and slowed to a halt. Harvey insisted on paying the driver, including a tip for his speedy arrival to the nursery.
I was surprised to see so many cars coming and going. Plain and Englisch people milled in the foyer as we entered. Groups clustered, and individuals waited at the reception desks.
I strode in as a couple was leaving a receptionist behind the counter and asked the woman if we could see Amos and Ruth Miller.
“Are you a relative?” She surveyed my kapp.
“No, but we were asked to come by relatives.”
Harvey stepped forward, and she immediately deferred to him. “Good to see you, Bishop Harvey.”
“How are you, Gladys?”
“It’s been a busy day. Whom are you here to see?”
“Amos Miller.”
She glanced at her computer screen. “He’s in the ER. The waiting room’s right through there.”
“Thanks. I know where it is.” Harvey led Beatrice and me down a corridor and then into a large waiting room. My guess was he’d been here often. Only a few chairs were empty. I saw several Amish people I didn’t recognize huddled like zombies—vacuous eyes and melancholy conversations.
“There’s Jake,” Beatrice said, pointing across the room. “Sitting in the chair near the fish tank.”
His back was
