Page 12 of A Hidden Hope

“Jacob’s mother is long gone. And Clara came from a much more conservative church to marry Jacob, so her family has shunned her.

” Dok sighed. “Compared to what I’ve heard of her church, Jacob might’ve seemed like a prize.

” She glanced at the clock on her dashboard.

“I’d better get going. But before I do, I’d like you to carry this with you. ” She handed her a pager.

Giving Evie a pager had been Matt’s idea.

Not only would it save time, but he liked the idea of Dok having someone with her for house calls during the night.

There hadn’t been many night calls lately, but they were part of her work and always seemed to come when she least expected them.

“It’s the newest model. It can deliver text messages—but with a limited character count, so I apologize in advance for abrupt-sounding messages.

So I’ll see you tomorrow, unless the pager goes off tonight. ”

That girl didn’t even flinch.

Evie was, Dok thought, sent straight from Heaven.

Evie tucked the pager from Dok into her pocket after setting it on vibration mode. Partly so it wouldn’t wake Wren in the night if it went off, but mostly to hide that Dok had entrusted her with a pager. Knowing would only irk Wren.

Everything Evie did seemed to irk Wren. She was an exceptionally persnickety roommate, to say the least. Wren had a laundry list of strict rules—no lights on after she went to bed, not even a tiny flashlight for reading.

And regardless of how hot and stuffy the room became, Wren insisted on keeping the windows tightly closed, claiming the air stunk with manure.

The funny thing was, Wren fell asleep almost instantly and slept like a log, complete with loud, rumbling snores.

Once that familiar heavy breathing filled the room, Evie would quietly tiptoe over to open the window, welcoming a much-needed breeze that swept away the stale air.

She’d then slip back into bed, switch on her concealed flashlight, and read to her heart’s content.

Early in the morning, before Wren stirred, she carefully closed the window. So far, Wren hadn’t caught on.

Wren had never really liked Evie, and Dok’s acceptance of Evie’s nursing skills only seemed to fuel that feeling. It was a bit of a tangled situation, but Evie couldn’t stand the thought of anyone disliking her—even if that someone had staked a claim on her darling Charlie.

Still, Evie was determined to keep being kind, hoping that eventually, she’d break through Wren’s wall and they’d become friends.

Someday, it would happen.

Opening the kitchen door of Windmill Farm, Evie sniffed the air. It was filled with the comforting smells of supper in the making. “I’ll run up and change my clothes,” she told Fern, who was scrubbing the dirt off carrots in the kitchen sink, “and come down to help.”

A few minutes later, as Evie returned to the kitchen, she said, “In your church do you see many new mothers who struggle with postpartum depression?”

Fern stopped chopping carrots to look at her in surprise. “Depression? No. None. Babies are a blessing.”

“Yes, they are. But a woman can love her baby and still feel overwhelmed by the demands of motherhood.”

Fern considered that, then shook her head and went back to chopping. “Not among our people.”

“But what if someone did? Would she feel the need to hide her depression?”

“Why would she hide it?”

“Maybe because ... she feels judged. Sounds like most of the Amish women don’t struggle with feelings of loneliness or depression.”

“Of course not. No one is lonely here.”

“But that’s exactly what I mean. What if someone doesn’t know how to ask for what she needs? Or wants?”

Fern set down her knife. “Well, I would say that person might need to swallow her pride and take the first step.”

Could Evie give that kind of advice to Clara Zook? She seemed so reluctant to accept help, even from Dok and Evie.

“Some folks just need a little more confidence in themselves,” Fern said, locking eyes with Evie. “They need to have a little backbone.”

Hold it. Did Fern think Evie was talking about herself? Me? She slapped a palm against her chest. “You think I’m lacking a backbone?”

“You washed Wren’s laundry.”

“Well, yes ... but I was doing mine anyway. Wren is studying for her boards. And I’m sure she appreciates it.” Evie hoped so. Wren never said.

Fern held a finger in the air. “She leaves her dishes in the sink each night for you to wash and dry.”

Evie flushed. How did Fern know that? A couple of times, Wren had come in late from studying for her boards in the buggy shop and made herself something to eat in the kitchen.

Fern went to bed early, so Evie would tiptoe downstairs, after Wren had fallen asleep, to wash dishes.

She didn’t want Fern to face a sinkful of dishes first thing in the morning.

Another finger in the air. “You’ve given her all the pegs in your room to hang her clothes. Yours are in your suitcase, under the bed. I happen to have noticed when I was dusting under the beds yesterday.”

What dust? There was no dust in this house!

Fern’s sparse eyebrows lifted. “You need a backbone. Self-confidence.”

Wait, what? This conversation had veered off course! Evie scrambled to steer it back on track. “I was just wondering what someone in your church would do if she were lonely.”

“The Amish aren’t lonely,” Fern said. With that, she turned and headed to the garden for a forgotten item, leaving Evie standing there, more puzzled than before. Well, that chat took a turn she didn’t see coming—like opening a door expecting a closet and finding a whole new room instead.

Dok stopped by the office after dropping Evie at Windmill Farm and promised herself she’d only stay fifteen minutes, twenty minutes, tops.

The waiting room was empty, Annie had gone home, Charlie was doing something that involved a lot of noise in the basement, Wren was studying for her boards in the buggy shop.

Savoring the time alone, Dok closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair.

Just resting her eyes, she told herself, before heading home in time for tonight’s small group meeting.

She’d hardly seen much of Matt this week.

They’d tried so hard to get a handle on balance, and they’d been making progress, and even started planning a big RV trip next summer to some of the national parks .

.. but it all unraveled after that feature TV news story came out on her. She never should have agreed to it.

Those thoughts flitted through her mind, circling slower and slower. She must have dozed off when a knocking sound jolted her awake. Her brother stood at the open door.

“David!”

“You were sound asleep.”

“I wasn’t!” She sighed. “Not sound asleep, anyway.” She rubbed her face. “It’s been a busy day.” A busy couple of months.

David came in and sat down across from her. “This won’t take long.”

Her eyebrows knit together. “Are you here as a brother or a bishop?”

“Bishop.”

Dok groaned.

David ignored her. “I spoke to Fern today and she gave me a not-so-gentle nudge about getting reimbursed for her three boarders.”

Dok took in a breath of air. “I meant to follow up on that.” She scribbled on a yellow Post-it note: FERN—follow up on $$$ .

“She said something about getting paid to drive them into your office each morning.”

Dok nodded. “Fair enough.” That whole transportation dilemma had taken her by surprise. She would’ve thought one of them would have a car.

“Ruth, since we’re talking about the boarders—”

Were they?

“—I can’t help but feel you could be doing more for those two young doctors.”

“I plan to.” Dok busied herself with straightening paperwork on her desk. “I just haven’t quite figured out how to do it. My day is so full with patients and emergencies ... and paperwork ... it’s difficult to find a way to fit them in.”

“You heard about what happened to Hank Lapp at the store today?”

“No.” She froze. “What?”

“Wren Baker told him that he suffered from hearing loss and that’s why he shouted all the time.”

Dok cringed. “How did Hank take that?”

“Better than you might think. He told her that his mother said he’d been blessed since birth with a voice that could wake the dead.”

Dok let out a deep huff. “David, I have been so caught off guard by Charlie and Wren. I’m thoroughly unprepared for them. They need so much supervision.” She leaned her elbows on the desk and rested her chin in her palms.

“They’re eager.” He made it sound like a selling point.

“Yes, eager. I’ll grant you that. Very eager. But also culturally insensitive to the Amish.” Wren, she meant. She leaned back in her chair. “And did I tell you they didn’t match on Match Day?” That was still hard for her to swallow.

“You did.” David folded his arms against his chest. “But the nurse is working out well for you?”

“Evie? She’s a big help. She’s had a lot of direct patient care experience, unlike Wren and Charlie.

And she’s very intuitive. She knows what I need before I ask for it.

I told you that her grandparents were Mennonites, right?

” She dropped her shoulders in a sigh. “It’s unfortunate that Evie’s only here for a couple of months. ”

“So, you say that the residents need supervision, and they need a little work with cultural sensitivity. Since Evie is familiar with Plain ways, maybe she could do some supervising of them when you’re called out of the office?”

Interesting. Dok tilted her head . “It’s not typical ... but I suppose Evie could provide guidance. Maybe on some basic patient concerns.” She gave him a thumbs-up. “Good thinking, David.”

“Why can’t you take one or both of them on house calls?”

“Most of my house calls are to the Amish. I guess I just ... feel protective of them. It took a very long time for them to accept me. Evie is one thing. I don’t have to worry about how she handles herself around the Amish. But the residents are a different matter.”

“But people do accept you, and if you were to explain to them about the resident doctors, and how they’re gaining experience under your supervision, then I think you might be surprised by the acceptance. Your word carries a lot of weight around here. You’ve earned people’s trust.”

“And I’ve worked very hard for that trust. Earning trust doesn’t seem to be on the residents’ radar. Honestly, they haven’t earned my trust either.”

His brow furrowed. “You’re going to have to let them interact with your patients. All of them. Englisch and Plain.”

“I’m working on it.”

David stroked his beard in a thoughtful way. “King Solomon once said, ‘Give instruction to a wise man, and he will be yet wiser; teach a just man, and he will increase in learning.’”

Dok frowned. “It sounds like King Solomon started with someone who was wise to begin with. I’m not sure about these two.”

“And then there’s Paul’s words in the book of Titus, encouraging older women to teach what is good—”

Dok slapped a hand on her chest, coughing a laugh. “Older women?”

“You’re missing the forest for the trees, Ruth. Sharing knowledge and experience with the younger generation is pleasing to the Lord.”

Dok swallowed a sigh. Once David started quoting Scripture, she knew she was beaten. How does one argue with the Word of God? “Fine. I read you loud and clear.”

His face softened, and he pulled at his beard. “Listen, I do understand. Training a store employee isn’t the same thing as training a doctor, but I can appreciate the time and investment it takes, especially at first.”

Dok grinned. “And you have a revolving door of store employees.”

He winced. “I know. As soon as they’re trained, they seem to find better-paying jobs. Still, I like to think I’ve been a building block in their life’s journey.”

Only her brother. Dok gazed at him, impressed by his ability to try to squeeze out the good to be found in any and all situations.

“Okay, okay. I get your message.” A yawn escaped.

“I’d better get home before Matt wonders if he still has a wife.

” As soon as she said it, she wished it back.

“Don’t! I already know what you’re going to say.

That’s why these candidates are here in the first place. ”

Amused, David rose to his feet. “Maybe you should start by calling them what they’ve trained to be—doctors.”

Overly enthusiastic, socially oblivious, thoroughly inexperienced, green-as-grass doctors.

Nope. Dok just wasn’t ready for them.