The Caregiver

CHAPTER 15





John Weaver knew he was too old to be doing what he was doing—mooning about two women.

“John?” Amos called out, his voice as sharp and biting as a tack. “Are you ever going to help carry the trays inside, or do I need to get someone younger to help?”

Just to give the old guy grief, John said, “Definitely someone younger. Got anyone else in mind?”

“Unfortunately, no,” he answered as John met him in the large kitchen at the back of the building.

“Guess I’ll have to help you out, then . . .”

“Guess so. Pick up the tray and be smart about it.”

Hiding a smile, John picked up the tray loaded with three dozen donuts and followed Amos into the front of the store, where the bakery cases were. Just as he prepared to slide the tray into the glass case, he noticed a pair of customers waiting by the front door. “We’ve got customers already.”

Amos grunted. “No, you have customers. My day is almost done.”

And with that, he disappeared back into the kitchen, leaving John to stride to the front and unlock the door. “Good morning, ladies,” he said.

“Good morning. You kept us waiting long enough,” the elder woman said.

As John turned away and walked back to the counter, he mentally rolled his eyes. Obviously, he was destined to be surrounded by grumpy old folks today! “What may I get you?” he asked as the door chimed, announcing the arrival of two more customers. Thank goodness he’d already brewed two pots of coffee; they were going to need it today.

The elderly lady gazed at the tray that John had just brought in. “This is it? All you have right now are glazed and chocolate-covered?”

“Cinnamon rolls are coming.” That was, if Amos decided to bring them forward.

“I’ll have two chocolate for now. And a cup of coffee.”

As he rung the first pair up, he glanced at the new arrivals, and felt his heart jump. Jayne Donovan was standing there. Smiling at him.

He smiled right back.

“Stop standing around and smiling at women, John,” Amos griped as he carried in a plate of ten cinnamon rolls. “You’ve got customers to attend to.”

John ignored the old guy and smiled at Jayne. “Good morning.”

“Hi, John,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “I see you’re pretty busy today.”

“Well, I’m busy getting yelled at.”

To his pleasure, she laughed. “I have to go right to work, so can I have one of those rolls to go?”

“Sure.”

“I’ll get it,” Amos interjected. “You help the next folks.”

With some surprise, John realized that while he’d been smiling at Jayne like a lovesick pup, even more people had come through the door. Including that woman. The Amish woman.

Unbidden, his mouth went dry. “Gut matin,” he murmured.

Her eyes widened and a beautiful sheen of roses lit her cheeks. “And gut matin to you, John. May I have a glazed donut?”

“Of course.” As he handed her one, he looked behind her. “Your son isn’t with you today?”

“Nee. He’s at school.” She paused, then handed him a dollar.

Their fingers touched as the money was exchanged. John was sure he was imagining things, but he could have sworn he felt a little spark between them.

Just as he was thinking about that, Jayne stepped into his line of vision. “John, I hope you have a good day. Bye!”

He lifted his hand and waved her off. “Come back soon,” he said.

Behind him, Amos grunted. “Oh, brother.”

John felt his cheeks heat. He didn’t blame the old guy one bit. “Sorry.”

“It’s all right,” Amos said, his eyes merry. “But there are still customers in line, Romeo.”

John scowled, and would have said something, but just then he noticed the Amish woman was walking away. And he still didn’t know her name!

Stepping out from around the counter, he walked quickly toward her. “Excuse me. Miss?”

She turned. “Yes?”

“What’s your name?”

Behind him, Amos coughed.

“Mary,” she murmured with a smile, before walking out the door.

Mary. Well, now. That suited her, he thought as he walked back to the counter. She really was lovely, and so peaceful looking.

Amos harrumphed. “John? You working?”

“Settle down,” John snapped, then turned to the next customer. “May I help you?”

And so it continued, while in the back of his mind he wondered what the good Lord was up to. For twenty years, he’d had little to no interest in any woman. Now, all the sudden, he seemed to be attracted to two. One English, one Amish.

It seemed the Lord definitely had a sense of humor.

Another week had passed—and with it, another chemotherapy treatment. In between had been a blur of doctors’ visits, blood tests, and nausea.

And, for Lucy, worry. She’d so wanted to help Mattie feel better, to help keep her spirits strong. But no matter what she did, her efforts paled in comparison to the sickness that had taken hold of her cousin’s body. Mattie’s skin was pallid and there were dark circles under her eyes.

But still she tried her best. “Things will get better, Mattie. I promise, they will.”

“I doubt it.”

“We can’t give up hope, dear. Come, let’s pray.”

“Not now,” she mumbled, just as her body was racked by fierce tremors. “Lucy, I don’t know if I can do this anymore.”

Lucy bit her bottom lip to keep her voice smooth and strong. And to hide her worry and anxiety. “You must.”

“But the doctor didn’t say it would be this bad.”

“Ach. We both know it isn’t the doctor who knows everything. It is the nurses, jah?”

Mattie shivered again. “What did the nurses say, then? I don’t remember.”

“They said this time the chemo might make you sick. They said, for a lot of patients, the second treatment is worse than the first.”

“Then they were right about that.”

Mattie wrapped her arms around herself as she curled up on the couch. “Lucy, I am sorry. I thought I would be a better patient for you.”

“That is not why I came here, and you know it. I came to tend to you, not to sit and twiddle my thumbs.”

A lone tear slipped down her sweet cousin’s cheek as she looked her way. “I know you don’t mind, but I hate the idea of you seeing me like this. All I seem to be able to do is shake and throw up. It’s all awful.”

It was awful, but not in the way Mattie thought. It was awful to see her dear cousin suffer so. “It’s no worse than what you’ve done for me,” she said quietly. “Remember when you came to help me cook?”

“Because your arm was in a cast?” Mattie nodded. “Of course.”

“During that visit, you helped me more than I can say.”

Mattie turned her way. “Ah, now I know you are feelin’ flustered. Otherwise you wouldn’t have spoken of that time.”

Mattie was right. Rarely did Lucy ever choose to speak of her married life. And especially not the days when she’d been at her lowest. When Paul had made her life so miserable she’d wondered what had ever made her hope for a life next to Paul’s side. “Though I may not talk of it, I haven’t forgotten how good you were to me.”

“How good was I?” Mattie mused weakly. “I never said a word to the rest of the family about just how bad he hurt you.” After a moment, she added, “If I had, maybe he would’ve stopped.”

Lucy knew full and well that Paul never would have stopped. “You didn’t tell anyone because I asked you not to. Besides, what could you have done?” There had been no hope for any way out of her rocky marriage.

“My daed would’ve tried to help . . .”

Her uncle would have been no match for Paul’s will—or for her marriage vows. Besides, no lecture from her relatives would’ve stopped what happened when she and Paul were alone. “Shhh, Mattie. Do not speak of it.”

“But—”

“Nee. It’s all over now. There’s no need to worry yourself.” She didn’t want to talk about the past. Didn’t want to have to say that she had been very aware that most people in their family and her friends had had an extremely good idea of what went on in her marriage.

After all, while Paul had done his worst in private, he’d been open about his lack of respect for her. It didn’t matter who was around to witness his jabs—it was a rare day when she had ever been good enough for him.

Beside her Mattie shifted again. “I feel like my body’s on fire.”

“What can I do? Do you want some ice? Some cold compresses?”

“Nee. I’m sick and tired of ice.”

“Water? Juice?” She thought hard. “I brought some sodas home from the store. Do you remember how last time the soda helped your stomach?”

“I don’t want anything to drink.”

“Okay, then.”

Minutes passed. Almost a half hour.

Then, just when Lucy wondered if Mattie had finally begun to sleep, Mattie spoke. “Lucy, would you mind going next door to get Graham?”

“Graham Weaver? Why do you need him?”

“Because he’s my best friend in the world.”

“And here I thought your best friend was me,” Lucy teased. “I came all the way here from Michigan, don’t you know.”

As Lucy had hoped, Mattie chuckled. “And I’ll never forget your journey, neither. But I’d still be grateful if you went and got Graham for me.”

Lucy was just going to warn Mattie that her request was foolish. That all Graham could do was everything Lucy could—but then Mattie spoke again, her voice wistful and sweet. “Graham will sit with me for hours.”

“I can sit with you, Mattie—”

“I know. It’s just, he’s a gut friend.” After a ragged breath, Mattie looked Lucy in the eye. “Even if you don’t understand why I want him, would you still go see if he can stop by?”

Lucy got to her feet. “Of course. I’ll go now.” Leaning closer, she whispered, “But be warned. I’m going to tell your mother that I’m leaving you alone.”

A weak smile lit Mattie’s face. “I am willing to even put up with an hour of constant questioning and chatter in order to see Graham. Oh, I hope he’ll be able to come over.”

“He will,” Lucy promised. After everything that Mattie had done for her, Lucy was willing to do whatever it took to bring Graham back over.

Even taking the chance of seeing his brother Calvin again.