Between Two Promises Page 14

  He turned his back to the cold darkness. Inside was clean, bright, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, yet his thoughts matched the darkness outside.

  Finally, after three hours of waiting, a doctor approached them.

  The family gathered around him. The doctor, amiable but grave, told them Leah was in stable condition and would pull through. A collective sigh of relief circled the family, like a set of tires released of air.

  “Right now, she’s on a small ventilator,” the doctor said. “We’ll probably be able to remove it in the morning. But she’ll have to start using a breathing machine regularly at night to prevent this from happening again. Most children with MLD eventually do.” He looked at Rachel and Samuel with tight lips. “The machine does require electricity. I know many in your community have utility lines hooked to their homes for medical purposes. It’s not a good idea to release her from the hospital until you can get a line set up by the utility company. Is your home wire ready?”

  Samuel shook his head. “My father built the farmhouse many years ago. We have no electrical outlets.” His gray eyes were wide, pleading almost. “But the ministers will permit us to install a small breaker box for her needs, I’m sure.”

  Rachel balled her hands under her chin. “But we probably won’t be able to get service until after Christmas, maybe after the New Year. She may have to stay in the hospital for a long time.”

  “Maybe we can get a service drop on an emergency basis,” Daniel said, placing his hand on his mother’s shoulder. “I’ll call the utility company first thing in the morning.”

  Samuel looked to his son. “That will be goot, Daniel, danke.”

  The family’s unity touched Aiden. But their togetherness also troubled him. He chastised himself for having those same bitter resentments when little Leah and the family suffered.

  “In the meantime,” the doctor went on, “family members can come back into the ICU to see her.” He eyed Aiden, the only one of the group wearing English clothes. He didn’t ask who he was or why he had come (perhaps he thought Aiden was their driver), but the look was clear. Family members only.

  Aiden sat staring at the white tiled floor, his forearms pressed against his thighs, and wanted to understand why Daniel hadn’t ushered him along with the family to Leah’s bedside, despite the doctor’s obstinate insinuation. Daniel’s mind must’ve been too full of Leah to think about him. Or even to glance back with a reassuring smile before he and the family disappeared down the hall.

  He peeked at their coats, tumbled in a heap on two chairs across from where he sat. His coat lay crumpled next to him.

  Two hours later, Daniel and Aiden were heading back to the bed and breakfast in a freezing drizzle after having dropped the family at home. Aiden struggled to keep a positive attitude. He mentioned how nice it was that Leah’s medical expenses would be paid for by community funds earned from flea markets and livestock auctions. Daniel’s silence meant he’d either agreed or had too much flooding his mind to reply. Neither mentioned their argument prior to Mark’s telephoning.

  Tension filled the truck. Tension about Leah, about how they failed to reach out to one other when they both needed comforting the most. For the first time since they’d been living together as a couple in Montana, Aiden feared touching Daniel. Aiden sank into his seat, his lips firm, and stared at the wet darkness speeding past.

  Without warning, the truck skidded to the right. Intuitively, Daniel veered the truck in the direction of the skid. Aiden held onto the dash. They came to a jarring stop against a road sign halfway buried under a snow bank.

  “The headlights don’t work,” Daniel said, toggling the switch. He got out and walked to the front of the truck.

  Climbing back in, he said, “Both headlights are busted, the bumper’s dislodged, and I think we’re leaking coolant. We won’t be able to drive back to the inn in this condition. We’ll have to get a tow.”

  Aiden leaned his head against the headrest. “Right when you think an already horrible night couldn’t get any worse,” he breathed.

  Chapter Fourteen

  NEXT morning, Aiden stayed at the inn while Daniel walked to the Amish-owned mechanics to check on the status of the Suburban. Last night, Aiden had been surprised when Daniel had told him the tow truck operator worked for a local Amish auto mechanic. According to Daniel, the Amish shop was one of the most renowned in the county, and people brought their vehicles there from as far as Champaign. An hour later, Daniel texted him that the truck wouldn’t be ready until after Christmas and one of the Amish mechanics would be giving him a buggy ride back to the farm, where he was going to help install the outlet for Leah’s ventilator.

  Rather than be cooped up in the room, Aiden preferred to get some air. Apparently, Daniel did not want him at the farm, since he had not suggested Aiden meet him there. He figured he’d visit with Kevin and ask if he wanted to grab brunch. Although it was Christmas Eve, he knew his former boss well enough that he would be at work.

  Sure enough, Kevin was at his office, but Aiden dared not enter. Through the frosty windowpane, he eyed Kevin and Carolyn, locked in a passionate embrace. His initial surprise mutated into envy. Aiden could not hug Daniel so brazenly anywhere in Henry. Not even in the privacy of their room at the inn. Only in the woods did Daniel allow Aiden to show him affection. The only critters to ever spy them expressing their love—handholding, hugging, kissing—were the woodland animals and the occasional wide-eyed hiker.

  Watching Kevin and Carolyn’s blurry figures pressed against each other, Aiden longed to get back to Montana. To be with Daniel in their cabin. Or in their tent in the backcountry. Away from Henry.

  Hungry, but not yet wanting to eat alone in public, he wandered down to the IGA, one of his old lunch haunts when he worked at the Blade, to buy something to eat and take back with him to the inn.

  He was hunting down the cereal aisle, hankering for granola bars, when he nearly bumped into a young Amish woman. They stared at each other, their mouths agape. Neither one seemed to know how to react. She smiled and offered her hand first.

  “You’re Aiden Cermak, ya?”

  “Yes, yes I am. And you’re… you’re Tara Hostetler?”

  Aiden had never seen Tara up close. She wasn’t what he had expected for a woman who had almost become Daniel Schrock’s second wife. Pretty enough, but far too frail looking for Daniel’s tastes.

  “I guess we know each other in passing only,” Tara said, eying him sideways. “We never did get a chance to officially meet.”

  Unsure how much she associated him with Daniel, he held back from saying too much. For Daniel’s sake. He glanced at the shopper’s basket in her pallid hands. “Shopping for a few staples?”

  “Ya, I’m leaving for Maryland after Christmas and will want a few snacks for the long train ride.”

  “Maryland? That’s where I’m from. What takes you there?”

  She blushed under her bonnet. “I’m courting a man who lives there. I’m going to spend a few weeks with him and his family.”

  Relief tingled Aiden, but he was unsure what for. “He isn’t from southern Maryland, is he? That’s where I grew up. There’s a small Amish settlement there.”

  Tara shook her head. “He’s from western Maryland, in Garrett County. You heard of it?”

  “Oh, yes.” Aiden chuckled. “I know all the Maryland counties; there’re only twenty-three. We have to study each one in school. Garret is way out west, in the Appalachian Mountains, far different from where I grew up.”

  “I can’t wait to see it. I never been where there are mountains.”

  “Not nearly as big as the ones in Montana, but beautiful in their own way.”

  “Montana?” Tara raised her eyebrows. “What makes you say Montana?”

  Aiden realized he had probably said too much. Would she build a connection with his comment and Daniel’s living in Montana? Should he care if she did? “I only mentioned Montana because it’s known for its tall mou
ntains,” he said. “The name Montana even means mountain.”

  “Ach, I’m sorry.” Tara blushed and looked at him through her pale eyelashes. “I didn’t mean to come across like a nosy dummkop. It’s just that you’re the second person to mention Montana in as many days.”

  “The second?” Now Aiden flashed an inquisitive look. He wondered who in the industrious farm belt of Illinois would even think about Montana, much less mention it in idle chitchat. “Who was the first?”

  She paused a moment. “Daniel,” she said.

  “Daniel?”

  “Ya, Daniel Schrock.” She nodded. “You’re here for his brother Mark’s wedding, aren’t you? Well, Daniel came to see me at the fabric shop where I work the other day, and he mentioned living in Montana.”

  Stunned, Aiden willed down the flush creeping into his cheeks. His neck burning, he said, “He… he came to see you?”

  “We had a nice visit.” Holding her shopper’s basket closer to her ribcage, Tara smiled softly and gazed at Aiden without the typical Amish reticence. Her indigo eyes glowed like deep orbs. “We had lunch at the Dairy Queen.”

  Aiden scratched his temple, feigned a smile. “You had lunch? That… that sounds nice.”

  “I was surprised to see him,” Tara said. “I know he must be keeping a busy social schedule while he’s here. I got five older brothers and sisters. I know how hectic things can get around weddings.”

  The bright lights of the IGA dimmed in his mind. The aisle appeared to stretch endlessly. If he were to take off in a run, he’d be forever treading down that same aisle, trapped between boxes of cereal and crackers. Why hadn’t Daniel told him he’d visited with Tara Hostetler? Wouldn’t lunching with his former fiancée be something he’d want to mention? Aiden endeavored to say more, but his lips formed a tight seal, as if they were glued together.

  “Are you staying with the Schrocks?” Tara asked him when he failed to respond to her last comment, her eyes full of scrutiny.

  “No,” Aiden blurted, worried again how much he should let her know. “I’m staying at the inn.”

  Tara chuckled. “Which inn? There’s a handful around here.”

  “The Harvest Sunrise Inn Bed and Breakfast.”

  “I hear that’s a nice place.”

  “Yes, it’s nice.”

  “Isn’t Daniel staying there too?”

  “Oh… yeah… yeah he is.”

  They were quiet a moment, like two hounds deciphering each other’s next move. Aiden certainly was at a loss as to whether Tara was playing games with him or simply making small talk.

  “Well,” Tara said, smiling under her bonnet. “I best get back to my shopping. I got chores at the farm yet before getting supper ready, and I still need to pack for my trip.”

  “Okay,” Aiden said, relieved she was the first to break off. “Nice meeting you. Have fun in Maryland.”

  Aiden left without buying anything to eat. He wanted only to get out. The hunger spasms kicking his stomach failed to bother him as he walked back to the inn. Life loomed not so good at the moment.

  HE THOUGHT it was the next morning, but when he glanced at the digital alarm clock on the night table and the bright red numerals “5:12” registered in his mind, he realized he had awakened to the same day. Complete darkness had seeped into the room since he’d fallen asleep. He shook his head to get blood flowing to his brain.

  As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he gazed about the room. Disappointed Daniel was still out, he checked his cell phone to see if he’d left any messages. Two. One recent. He texted back to avoid Daniel’s wrath. At inn, just woke from nap.

  Agitated and groggy, he switched on the light and fumbled out of bed. He decided to do some writing until Daniel returned. He had an assignment with Northwest Backpacker magazine due in February, and he hadn’t even written an outline. He dug through the front compartment of his laptop case, where he kept his digital camera and notepads, and froze when his hand hit an envelope. Mark’s invitation to the wedding.

  Aiden had kept the letter since the day Daniel had reluctantly let him read it, back in August. He had no true understanding of why he’d brought the letter to Illinois. Perhaps he wanted proof Mark had invited him, in case anyone questioned his being there. He’d brandish Mark’s letter before his accuser’s eyes and declare with evidence he was welcomed—with Samuel’s blessing. He took the letter out of the envelope and reread it.

  Mark’s reaching out to him was a nice gesture, but the sentiments were as fragile as the paper they were written on. He had probably embellished where he’d mentioned Samuel had rubber stamped inviting Aiden. Neither Mark’s nor Elisabeth’s kindness mattered when matched against the patriarch’s scorn.

  He jerked, hearing Daniel’s key in the door. Afraid Daniel would discover he had kept Mark’s letter, he stuffed it in the envelope and hid it back inside the laptop compartment. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he waited for Daniel to enter. And waited.

  He swore he’d heard keys jingle and the doorknob rattle. Was the innkeeper or a maid trying to get in? He waited again. No one entered. Maybe a band of ghosts had come to warn him not to be such a Scrooge. The spirits of Christmas past, present, and future. Or the ghost of the original owner, the one Grace had said still stalked the halls of the old inn. He chuckled audibly and shook his head.

  He wanted the laughter to fill him with levity, but the lonely sound only made him feel more gloomy.

  He was about to open the door and check to see if the maid needed anything from the hallway when something on the twill carpet caught his attention. A bi-folded piece of paper lay halfway under the door. Was it a notice from the inn’s management? An early bill?

  Perhaps Daniel had checked out early, like Grace had asked him to, and he hadn’t bothered to inform Aiden. Daniel had been concealing a lot from him lately.

  Scrunching his forehead, he picked up the paper and unfolded it. The note was written on the inn’s stationery. His arm began to shake as he read.

  Suddenly the door opened and Daniel stepped in. Aiden, flustered, thrust the note behind his back before Daniel caught him holding it. He edged backward while Daniel focused on flinging off his coat and gloves. Stealthily, Aiden slipped the note into the compartment of his laptop case.

  “Is anyone out there?” Aiden’s heart raced.

  Daniel, busy with kicking off his boots, snickered. “No, it’s about as dead as I seen yet. I think we’re about the only few guests left. Why?”

  “No… no reason.”

  Daniel placed his soggy boots in a corner by the door and went about plugging in his cell phone and setting it on the night table. The bustle of activity radiated off Daniel, leaving Aiden feeling emptier than he already had.

  “Leah is back from the hospital,” Daniel said, sitting on the edge of his bed while he unfastened his shirt. “Joe Karpin’s daughter picked up Mom and her from the hospital this morning. Several of us helped install her electrical outlet. A man from the utility company already set up the breaker box and gave us drop service. We couldn’t thank him enough for coming out so quick on Christmas Eve.”

  Aiden gawked at Daniel, wordless. The warmth of community and family and the Christmas spirit flowed over him as Daniel recounted his day. Yet listening to him was like watching television. He could only experience Daniel’s day passively. He had said “we.” We had meant Daniel, his friends, his family, the community. Even the workman from the utility company had been a part of their happy day. Aiden had not been included.

  “The Stoltzfuses gave us their old ventilator,” Daniel said. “They heard about Leah’s breathing problems and wanted to help. Their son died from a similar condition a few years ago. It’s called a BiPAP machine. You should see this contraption. It’s quite some work. It helps the lungs take in air.” He chuckled and shook his head. “I have to give credit to the Englishers who come up with these machines. They really take some imagination.”

  Blurry-eyed, Aiden watched Daniel slip off
his broadfall pants and underwear and drape his clothes over the ladder-back chair by the desk. Naked, he stepped into the bathroom. A minute later came the rush of water from the shower.

  Normally, he’d be compelled to join Daniel. Daniel always seemed to like when Aiden slinked into the shower next to him at the cabin. About the only time Aiden managed to get Daniel to stay in the shower longer than his record two minutes. At the inn, Daniel would push him away, like he had all week.

  With Daniel in the shower, Aiden took out the note he had stuffed in his laptop case. Holding the note as if it were a dead mouse, he reread it several times.

  Hearing the shower shut off, he quickly shoved the note back into the compartment but noticed Mark’s wedding invitation next to it. A jolt of grief coursed through him. Dismayed, he shoved the note deeper under his notepads and digital camera, away from Mark’s letter. He must never allow Daniel to see it.

  When Daniel emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later wrapped in a towel, Aiden was undressed and under the bedcovers. As Daniel dressed in his sleeping clothes, he asked Aiden, “Did you get a nice nap?”

  “Yeah,” Aiden said. His words sounded as if they were coming from someone else. Someone far away.

  “What did you do? Sleep the day away? Still feeling under the weather, huh?”

  Aiden, his mind grinding with painful worry, was in no mood for idle conversation. In a flash, he remembered his unforeseen encounter with Tara Hostetler at the IGA. He wanted Daniel to know they had bumped into each other.

  “I ran into Tara Hostetler in town when I went to get something to eat,” he muttered.

  “You did?”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you two had lunch?”

  “I musta forgot about it. Wasn’t important.”

  Aiden studied Daniel from the bed. Watching him dress, he hated being attracted to him even while he battled against his anxieties. He yearned for Daniel’s strength, for his protection. But could he even count on it anymore?