Patricia Davids - An Amish Harvest

“Ah, the explosion addled your brain,” Rebecca said as if discovering something important.

“My brain is fine. It’s my eyes and my hands that were injured. I can’t catch myself if I start to fall.”

“Rebecca, Samuel needs constant care. He will be up when he’s ready.” He felt his mother smooth the covers over his feet and tuck them in.

“He won’t ever be ready if you coddle him, Anna.”

“She isn’t coddling me,” he snapped. He couldn’t see. He couldn’t use his hands. He needed help with everything. Couldn’t she see that for herself?

“Then you should move downstairs so your mother doesn’t have to run up here every time you call. You aren’t trying to make things more difficult for her, are you?”

“He’s not making things difficult for me,” his mother said quickly. “I don’t know why my husband thinks I need help. I’m managing fine.”

“Hello? Is anyone about? Anna, is the store open?” a woman’s voice called from downstairs.

“ Ja , we are open. Just a moment,” his mother answered.

“Go on, Anna. I can manage here. Samuel, do you need your mother to do anything for you before she leaves?” Rebecca’s voice was so sweet he could almost hear the honey dripping from her tongue.”

“ Nee , I don’t need anything at the moment,” he said through clenched teeth. If she was trying to be annoying, she was doing a fine job.

“Excellent. You see, Anna, Samuel and I will rub along well together. Don’t keep your customer waiting. I’ll sit with him until you come back. He and I need to get better acquainted, anyway.”

* * *

Rebecca hadn’t expected it to hit her so hard.

Stepping through Samuel’s doorway was like stepping back in time. All her previous patients had been elderly folks or new mothers. Not since her husband’s death had she taken care of a grown man in the prime of his life. Memories flooded her mind pulling her spirit low. Day after day, she had watched Walter grow weaker and less interested in what went on around him and more dependent on her. She willingly became his crutch, not realizing the damage she caused until it was too late.

Rebecca struggled to hide her dismay at the sight of Samuel. She had forgotten how much he resembled Walter. They were of the same height. They had the same broad shoulders and straight golden brown hair cut in the familiar Amish bowl hairstyle. Could she do this? Could she be a better nurse to Samuel than she had been to her dear Walter?

God had placed this challenge in her path. It was a test of her strength and her faith. She would not waver but stand firm and do her best. Even if the patient didn’t like what she had to do.

She made shooing motions with her hands to get Anna moving. She knew she was being hard on Samuel and his mother, but after listening to Isaac on the buggy ride here, she already understood some of the family’s problems. Samuel’s mother was smothering him with kindness.

While Rebecca felt sorry for Samuel, more sympathy wouldn’t do him any good. Isaac had expressed his concerns about Samuel’s state of mind. Samuel wasn’t getting up. He wasn’t trying to do things for himself. It was so unlike Samuel that no one knew what to do. Luke and Noah both felt guilty about the accident. They blamed themselves for not taking better care of the equipment. They were trying their best to make it up to Samuel. His mother had taken to treating him like a child instead of a grown man. The more she did for Samuel, the less he did for himself.

Rebecca’s husband had been a strong man suddenly struck down with a heart attack at the age of thirty-five. It left him weak, unable to work his land and feeling useless. It took a long time for her to understand what was wrong with him, why he wouldn’t try to get better. He had simply given up and eventually his damaged heart failed him.

That wasn’t going to happen to Samuel, no matter what outcome he faced. With God’s help, she was going to make a difference this time. Samuel needed to be shocked out of his complacency and self-pity. Thankfully, Isaac had had the good sense to hire her.

She was embarrassed to admit how fast she had jumped at his offer. Isaac hadn’t even had a chance to mention her salary before she told him she could start. He had agreed to her usual wage without comment, clearly relieved she was willing to take on the job.

The same could not be said for her mother.

Rebecca put that conversation out of her mind and sincerely hoped her mother and John were having a pleasant visit at her home. No doubt, she would be the primary topic of their conversation, but she was here in this house for a reason. Anna Bowman wasn’t going to release the reins of her son’s care easily. Rebecca braced herself for the coming battle.

“It’s a beautiful day outside. Why don’t you go sit on the front porch and enjoy it. This nice fall weather won’t last long.”

“I’m fine where I am.”

“You may be fine, but trust me when I tell you these sheets need to be laundered.”

“They’re fine. Go away.”

“I’m not going anywhere. Your father hired me to do a job.”

“What job? Annoying me?”

“If that’s what it takes to get you better, I will do it gladly. Come on, up you go.” She flipped the covers back. He wore blue-striped pajamas. He curled his bare toes and crossed his burned arms gingerly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“All right. I guess I shall have to wash these sheets with you in them.” She picked up the glass of water beside the bed and poured some on his feet.

* * *

“Are you crazy?” Samuel jerked his foot away from the cold liquid. Had she just poured water on his bedding? The woman was off in the head.

“Now the sheets are wet so you’ll have to get up.”

“I can’t believe you would do such a thing to a sick man. Where is my father? If he hired you, he can fire you.”

“You are injured—you aren’t sick. There’s nothing wrong with your feet and legs. I do understand that even simple tasks are now a challenge, but hiding in bed is not the answer. Swing your legs over the side and sit up for a few minutes. Don’t stand too quickly, and you won’t get dizzy.”

“What choice do I have?” He rubbed his foot on his pajama leg to dry it.

“Several. You can stay in your damp bed.”

He didn’t respond.

“Not to your liking? All right. You could yell for your brothers or father to come and escort me home. I’m sure your brothers won’t think less of you for letting a woman get the upper hand and having to rescue you from my clutches. Shall I go get one of them for you?”

He would never hear the end of it. “Leave them be. They have work to do.”

“ Goot. I’m glad to hear you say that. So do I. I’m going to move your legs to the side of the bed.”

“I can do it.” He didn’t wait for her help. He swung his feet off the bed and used his elbows to push himself into a sitting position. He kept his hands raised so he wouldn’t bump them.

She touched his shoulder. “Are you dizzy?”

“A little.” He hated to admit it.

“Take some deep breaths.”

He did and the wooziness passed.

“Now, I’m going to keep hold of your elbow while you stand.”

“What if I fall?”

“I’ll try not to trip over you while I’m making your bed.”

He wasn’t amused. “Very funny.”

“I thought so.”

“I’m serious. I could fall and hurt you.”

“You could, but you won’t. If you start feeling weak, I’ll have a chair right behind you.”

He heard her drag the ladder-back chair that sat at his desk closer. “Are you ready?”

“Will you pour water on my head if I say I’m not?”