Page 11 of A Hidden Hope

Annie was at her desk, going over some paperwork, when she heard the front door creak open. She looked up and saw Gus standing in the doorway, and her heart flip-flopped. It always did when she saw him. She stood up to greet him, then stopped. Something was wrong. “Gus, what’s happened?”

His face was pale as a ghost, and his usually steady hands trembled as he clutched the brim of his straw hat. He didn’t answer right away but cast a glance at the patients in the waiting room, whose eyes were on him. “Could we talk outside?”

Annie followed him out and closed the door behind her.

He took in a deep breath, his shoulders sagging as he let it out. “I just came from a run,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “It was ... it was a bad one.”

She waited for him to continue.

Gus swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing visibly.

“There was a car accident out by the old bridge. A mom and her little girl. The car went off the road, down into the ravine. We got there as fast as we could, but...” His voice trailed off, and he shook his head, the words too painful to voice.

Annie moved closer, gently placing a hand on his arm. “But?” she prompted softly, steeling herself for whatever he was about to reveal.

Gus took a shaky breath, his eyes clouded with the weight of the memory.

“The accident happened because the little girl ... she had crawled out of her car seat. The mom had turned around to get her when the car went off the road.” His voice cracked, and he closed his eyes, as if trying to block out the image.

“We tried everything, Annie. Whenever a child’s involved, we always keep trying, no matter what.

We kept trying and trying ... but it was too late.

The mom—she kept begging us to help, to save her baby. But there was nothing we could do.”

Annie felt her heart twist. She knew how deeply Gus cared about his work, how much he invested himself in every call he made. “I’m so sorry,” she said.

When he opened his eyes, the haunted look in them sent a shiver down Annie’s spine.

“I’ll never forget the sound that mother made when we had to stop. It was ... like a wounded animal, like a howl.”

Annie’s breath caught in her throat. All her EMT training had focused on the rescue, on the saving of lives. She hadn’t once considered how it would feel if a rescue wasn’t possible. Gus had been an EMT for over two years now, and today’s call had clearly shaken him to his core.

“I’ve been at the scene of plenty of accidents.

It’s always hard, but you find a way to keep going.

My partner once warned me there’d be a call one day that would buckle me at my knees.

The one that haunts your dreams, making you doubt yourself.

Did I do everything I could? Did I miss anything?

” He wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve. “I guess today was that call.”

He didn’t need to spell it out: Sometimes, no matter how strong or skilled an EMT was, there would be situations where they just couldn’t help—where the loss was inevitable, and the harm couldn’t be undone.

Gus tipped his head. “Speaking of my partner, I’d better get going.”

Looking past him, she saw the ambulance in the parking lot. “Our bishop David Stoltzfus, he would tell you that the little girl’s life was complete.”

Gus nodded, managing a faint smile. That was how the Amish made sense of the unimaginable: They leaned on humility and trusted in God’s plan.

They believed that, no matter how difficult life could get, there was a purpose.

That God was good, all the time, even in the midst of painful circumstances.

She squeezed his arm before he left, trying to reassure him—and maybe herself too.

Dok glanced at her watch. She had promised Matt she’d be home by seven tonight so they could make it to their church’s small group, but she needed to drop by Clara Zook’s and pick up Evie, drop her off at Windmill Farm, then stop by the office to see if some test results had come in.

She was already way behind schedule. She pressed on the gas to speed up.

Joining this small group had been Matt’s idea.

He wanted to get better connected at church, and he thought they needed more friends.

Matt was getting increasingly focused on relationship building as he neared retirement.

Dok felt she had plenty of people in her life, but he pointed out that she had many acquaintances, not deep friendships. “There’s a big difference, Ruth.”

Dok let out a sigh. Her social needs were much lower than her husband’s.

Matt supported her in so many ways; joining the church group was the least she could do for him.

It was only fair. And she enjoyed it too.

But mostly because Bee Bennett and Damon Harding had joined the group.

They were both full of questions about what a life of faith looked like, adding a nice element to the mix.

She had a hope that Bee might turn into that kind of deep friendship that Matt wanted for her.

Having a best friend sounded rather lovely.

Still, it had been a long day and she would really prefer to enjoy this summer evening by relaxing at home with a good book and a glass of wine. She sighed again. Not gonna happen.

As she veered onto the road that led to the Zook farm, she spotted Jacob Zook mowing hay in a distant field. He’d been at it all day, working hard to get that second cutting of hay done. He was a dedicated farmer, no doubt about that. But he left care of the house and children to Clara.

The Zook farm had always stood out in sharp contrast to the other homes in Stoney Ridge.

Most Amish farms were the picture of neatness, with tidy houses, blooming gardens, and freshly painted barns.

But the Zook place had an air of neglect.

The paint on the house was peeling, and the porch sagged as if it had long ago given up hope of ever being repaired.

Even the barn looked tired, its roof bowed and weary.

As Dok’s car rolled up to the house, her thoughts drifted to Clara.

Barely twenty-two, Clara was delicate in both body and spirit, and Dok worried about her.

The young woman had always looked a little overwhelmed, but now, with two babies to care for, that fragility had only deepened.

It seemed as if the babies sensed it. For such small infants, they had an impressive set of lungs and were not shy about using them.

Their constant crying filled the house with an uneasy energy, making it hard for anyone to find a moment’s peace.

Earlier today, after Dok had gently examined both babies and reassured Clara they were healthy, she could see that her words didn’t have much of an effect. There was a desperate look in Clara’s eyes, so Dok had made a quick decision. “Evie, would you mind staying with Clara for a few hours?”

She knew that Clara was in good hands and that Evie’s gentle presence would help ease the young mother’s mind. But as she rolled up the driveway, Evie burst out of the front door, as if she’d been watching for her by the window.

She plopped into the passenger seat, relieved. “My ears are ringing.”

Dok laughed. “From the babies’ cries?”

Evie nodded. “They have the lungs of opera singers. We’d get one settled down and the other would start up. All afternoon. One up, one down. The other up, the other down.”

As Dok turned from the driveway onto the road and stepped on the gas pedal, she noticed Evie grip the car’s handle, her knuckles white.

Matt was always telling her she drove too fast, but that was just him being the overly cautious cop that he was.

After all, she knew these roads well. The sooner she got to where she was going, the better.

But seeing Evie brace herself, she slowed down a bit.

“All in all, did Clara seem a little more confident by the end of your visit?”

“Hard to say.” Evie’s face scrunched up. “I get the impression that she hides her feelings.”

Good observation , Dok thought. “Did Jacob ever come to the house? Did you meet him?”

“Briefly. He came into the house for a glass of water and left again.”

“He didn’t help with the babies? Didn’t hold them?”

“I’m not sure if he gave more than a quick glance at them.” Evie shook her head. “He reminds me of my grandfather. A good man but stern. My grandfather’s favorite saying was”—she lowered her voice to a growl—“wer sei Kinner liebt, zichdicht sie.” Love a child , chastise it.

Dok shot a glance at her. Evie hadn’t even realized she had spoken Penn Dutch.

So she had a grasp of the dialect! There were moments when Dok felt as if Evie could read her mind, anticipating what she needed next for a patient.

She’d chalked it up to hospital experience, but now she realized Evie had understood the conversation.

She wondered why she kept that skill to herself, and why she didn’t speak the language.

Sometime, when she wasn’t in a hurry, she’d like to know more about Evie’s background.

She sighed. She should try to get to know Wren and Charlie too.

“Is that typical around here? In the Amish church, I mean. The men, acting all patriarchal?”

“Some,” Dok said, turning up the long driveway that led to Windmill Farm, “but most of the men are hands-on dads.”

“That’s good to hear. Jacob seems ... quite a bit older than Clara.”

Dok nodded. “Yes. Second marriage for Jacob. He and his first wife had four children, including a set of twins. They’re grown and gone.

I suppose he thinks Clara should be up for the task.

His first wife handled them easily,” she said with a shrug, “so, in his mind, why can’t Clara?

” She stopped at the top of the driveway to let Evie out.

Evie put a hand on the door handle. “Where is Clara’s mother? Or mother-in-law?”