Page 14 of A Hidden Hope
Upstairs, Dok was waiting for her by Annie’s desk, medical bag in one hand. “Is any progress happening down there?”
“I think so. Definitely.” But Evie wasn’t talking about the basement.
David finally had a quiet moment at the end of the day. His two little boys were asleep, and he sank into his favorite chair, a book in hand, soaking in the peacefulness. But that peace was short-lived. His wife Birdy appeared from the kitchen with a look that instantly made him squirm.
Hands on her hips, she asked, “Did you really quote Scripture to Dok?”
David grimaced. Apparently, after what he thought was a meaningful talk with his sister about the importance of training others, she’d stopped by to complain to Birdy about him. “I was just trying to make a point.”
Birdy raised an eyebrow. “David, you’re her brother, not her bishop.”
“I just think she’s missing an opportunity to share her knowledge and get some help.” He explained his suggestion that Dok should start bringing the resident doctors along on her house calls, even to the Amish. “If people see that Dok trusts them, they’ll accept the new doctors.”
Birdy didn’t look sold.
“Go ahead,” he said, bracing himself. “Say it.”
“I’ve heard a few stories about those resident doctors...”
“If they’re from Sarah Blank or Hank Lapp, I’ll pass.”
“No, from Dok herself,” Birdy said, crossing her arms. “She’s wrestling with how to bring them into her practice, especially with her Amish patients.”
“But—”
“David, she’s spent years building relationships with the Amish. She listens to them, not just about their ailments, but their lives.”
“But—”
“And I know you hate hearing this, but a lot of women in our church don’t feel heard. Not by their husbands, definitely not by authority figures like you, the bishop, or the ministers. Sometimes even by older women with narrow views.”
He had a “but” loaded up, but it just sat there.
“Dok is very protective of her patients. All of them. She’s doing the best she can under the circumstances. Why, it was just a week ago that she first learned she was suddenly supervising not one but two residents! Give her time, David.”
David could see where this was going. One of the many things he loved about Birdy was how she made him see what he was missing. And, as always, it left him feeling grateful and humbled. Often, very humbled. “Birdy,” he said, “I hope you know that I think what you say is important. I’m listening.”
Her face softened into a smile.
He patted his lap. She sat down, resting her head against his neck. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he said.
“Happily,” she murmured, “you don’t have to.”
Early the next morning, Evie came from the bathroom into the bedroom she shared with Wren to find her holding up the pager Dok had given to her. She froze.
“I heard something vibrate and found this in your suitcase.” Wren held it up in the air. “Dr. Stoltzfus gave it to you, didn’t she?”
Slowly, Evie nodded.
“That really takes the cake.” Wren shook her head like she’d just bitten into a sour lemon, her lips tight with distaste. “Unbelievable.”
“Um, can I have the pager? I need to know what Dok said.”
“She’s coming to get you in five minutes.” Wren glanced at her watch. “Four.”
Evie grabbed the pager out of Wren’s hand and started scrambling to get dressed for the day, pulling clothes out of her suitcase. While brushing her hair with one hand and applying mascara with the other, she could feel Wren’s eyes on her. “Something on your mind?”
“I just don’t get why Dok has more faith in you than in me,” Wren said, clearly annoyed.
Honestly, Evie had no good response because, well, she kind of agreed. Wren radiated confidence and competence in everything she did. Even in pajamas, she appeared commanding, sophisticated, elegant.
Evie? Not so much. A thousand other words came to mind: average, ordinary, dependable. “Elegant” was definitely not one of them.
She hurried downstairs, bolted out the door, and made her way down the driveway to wait for Dok. Halfway down, she glanced back at the farmhouse and caught sight of Wren at the bedroom window, watching her. What could be going through her mind? Nah, on second thought, Evie didn’t want to know.
Every once in a while—especially in moments like this—Evie wondered if she’d made a big mistake coming to Stoney Ridge instead of going to Alaska with Darcy.
She was sharing a room with someone who clearly didn’t like her.
Charlie? Hardly saw him, other than Fern’s morning buggy rides to Dok’s office.
He was holed up in Dok’s basement most days, hammering away at something or other.
At least, Evie thought with a wistful sigh, he wasn’t spending time with Wren.
Wren spent all her spare time in the buggy shop, studying for her boards—just in case, she said, Dok ever let her treat a patient. A bit of an exaggeration, but not much.
On the other hand, Evie was definitely getting varied and unique experiences with patients. She loved the peace and quiet of Windmill Farm. But the best perk of all was Fern Lapp.
In so many ways, Fern reminded Evie of her grandmother.
A woman who brooked no nonsense, who did the work of two in the time of one, and somehow kept an eye on everyone.
Most mornings, sharing a love of rising early, Evie and Fern would chat over coffee as the sun rose.
At the end of the day, Evie fell into a pattern of helping Fern weed or water her big vegetable garden.
Those moments meant so much to Evie—she felt as if she was reliving happy memories, before her grandmother’s health started to fail. Time with Fern was special.
But that didn’t mean Evie had stopped hoping for an aha moment with Charlie, a romantic breakthrough where he’d suddenly stop, take a second look at her, and say, “Why, Evie, you and I are meant for each other!”
So far, that moment had yet to come.
David was at the register at the Bent N’ Dent when Hank Lapp’s booming voice filled the store.
“Clara Zook! LOOK at those BABIES!” Hank spoke with his usual enthusiasm, his voice echoing through the aisles.
Clara had just stepped in with her infant twins in a stroller and looked a bit worn around the edges.
As soon as Hank’s greeting rang out, both babies startled awake.
The first let out a sharp, piercing cry, and within seconds, the other followed suit, their combined wails reverberating off the shelves.
The noise seemed to paralyze the store. Shoppers paused mid-aisle, glancing around uncomfortably.
A woman who had been examining a jar of pickles set it down with a sigh and said, “I’ll just come back later.
” Eli Fisher, Annie’s dad, halfway through his shopping, put his items back on the shelf and made a quiet exit behind the pickle jar woman.
David watched the scene unfold, feeling a mix of concern and helplessness.
Clara, looking flustered, tried her best to soothe the babies, gently rocking the stroller and murmuring soft words.
But their cries only grew louder, drowning out the usual hum of the store.
He wasn’t sure how to help, as Sarah Blank had called in sick today and he was managing the store alone.
Two customers were in line, looking like they wanted to leave as fast as possible.
The jingles on the door rang again, and in marched Wren Baker. She cast a frown in Clara’s direction but didn’t break stride. Instead, she headed straight for the refrigerated cooler of drinks.
Hank Lapp had settled back into his rocking chair, oblivious to the commotion he’d created.
The babies’ cries ratcheted up a few notches.
David couldn’t even hear the ping as the cash register opened.
Clara, her face red with frustration and embarrassment, with both babies still screaming, turned and pushed the stroller out of the store, her head lowered to avoid the stares of the graybeards—covering their ears—in their rocking chairs.
The door swung shut behind her, muffling the cries that had dominated the store just moments before.
As the noise died down, Wren stood in line, waiting her turn.
When she reached the counter, she handed over a five-dollar bill for a bottle of iced tea.
“If I had to hear that racket every day, I think I’d lose it,” she said with a half smile, making a downward motion with her hand to emphasize her point.
She leaned in a bit closer. “Any chance you’ve got a discount for impoverished medical staff? ”
David handed back the five-dollar bill. “How about a ‘Welcome to Stoney Ridge’ discount instead?”
Wren gave him a playful wave, raised her iced tea in a mock toast. “Thanks,” she said, striding out the door.
As she left, a wave of unease settled over him.
He could practically hear Birdy’s voice in his head, asking: What made you think it was a good idea to give Dok advice on supervising her residents when you don’t even know them at all?
He really didn’t have an answer to give her. He winced. Humbled again.