Page 26 of A Hidden Hope

David sat at the kitchen table, hands wrapped around a mug of lukewarm coffee, staring out the window.

Birdy was busy at the stove, stirring a pot of stew, but her mind wasn’t on dinner.

He could tell by the way she’d glance over her shoulder every few minutes, lips pressed into a thin line, that she had something on her mind.

Finally, she turned to him, her voice gentle but firm. “David, don’t you think you should have a little talk with Jacob Zook?”

“Jacob Zook?” David raised an eyebrow. Jacob wasn’t exactly chatty—unless the topic was about the weather. He was a farmer through and through. “Why would I do that?”

Birdy sighed, as if wondering about her husband’s perceptiveness. “Clara’s twins are a handful. Our buggies passed each other yesterday, and we stopped to talk, but with those babies hollering, we barely exchanged hellos.”

Yes, David remembered the lung power of those two babies echoing through the store. “I’m still not seeing why I need to talk to Jacob.”

“It just seems Clara could use a little help with the babies.”

David set his mug down, getting a sense of where Birdy was headed with this.

Jacob Zook wasn’t just frugal; the man was tighter than the lid on a jar of pickles.

And Birdy? Well, she was about to suggest David “encourage” Jacob to hire a mother’s helper.

He could already imagine the conversation going nowhere fast. “Jacob’s not exactly fond of parting with his money,” he said, leaning back in his chair.

Birdy frowned. “If that’s the case, then he should help with those babies himself.”

“Maybe you could—”

Birdy cut him off with a raised hand. “I offered. Clara turned me down. She’s not easy to help.”

David stroked his graying beard, feeling a familiar sense of weariness. “And you think I should have a word with him?”

Birdy turned off the stove and faced him, her look determined. “I do. He’s a good man, David, but he’s stuck in his ways. Clara’s struggling, and he’s too focused on getting the hay in to notice.”

David sighed deeply, leaning forward. “Jacob’s not much for taking advice.”

“Tell him you had twins yourself,” Birdy said, her tone softer but firm. “Remind him how it’s double the work, and that Clara needs some help.”

David let out a dry chuckle. “You want me to say all that to Jacob? Birdy, he’s not going to listen. He’s had twins in his first marriage. He knows how much work they are. All that’s on his mind is timing the drying of his hay so he can cut it.”

Birdy came over and sat beside him, placing her hand gently on his arm. “You’re the bishop, David. That still counts for something—even with Jacob Zook. If anyone can get through to him, it’s you.”

David shook his head. “Being the bishop doesn’t always mean people listen. Sometimes it’s just a label.”

Birdy wasn’t giving up. “It’s a label that carries weight. You don’t need to come down hard. Just give him a nudge. Help him see things from Clara’s side. She’s doing the best she can, but ... she’s not...”

“She’s not like his first wife.”

“Exactly.”

“I’ll think about it,” David said, though the idea of tackling a conversation with Jacob was about as appealing as ... well, helping cut hay. He was no farmer.

Birdy gave his arm a squeeze. “You’ll say the right thing, David. You always do.”

Did he? He smiled faintly but wasn’t so sure himself.

The next day, Annie watched the bus approach with the same enthusiasm she had for getting a cavity filled at the dentist. Without novocaine.

Gus noticed. “It’s all about getting used to the movement,” he said, after he complimented her on the wisdom of choosing a bus to practice overcoming her motion sickness. “It’s the perfect way to simulate the motion of an ambulance or fire truck, minus the sirens.”

Annie wasn’t at all convinced; after days of increasingly queasy lunch breaks, her stomach was less “eager for the challenge” and more “already regretting it.” But the last time—the only time—she’d ridden in an ambulance, she hadn’t gotten sick. Gus had been there ... and he was here today.

Maybe this could work.

They made their way to the back of the bus—he insisted the back was more realistic to an ambulance—and sat down. As the bus pulled away from the stop, she felt her hands grow clammy and moist. She curled her hands into fists and wrapped them up in her apron.

He noticed.

He took her hands in his, their warmth and solid grip a stark contrast to her own sweaty, wet, pathetic ones. “Annie,” he said, looking at her in that intense way of his. “Just look at me.”

That wasn’t hard.

As close as they were, she couldn’t help but notice things she’d missed before.

Like the tiny scar just above his eyebrow—when had that happened?

There was a little bit of stubble on his neck, like he’d missed it when shaving.

And he smelled so good! Clean and crisp, like fresh laundry dried in sunshine.

Amber flecks in his eyes seemed to shimmer with a depth she hadn’t noticed until now.

What was it about eye contact that was so intimate? She didn’t know.

On the upside, every time they hit a bump, they ended up closer and closer together, until their shoulders and thighs were touching.

Downside: As captivating as it was to be in such close proximity to Mr. Wonderful, her stomach had other ideas.

Dizziness came first, a sudden chill followed by a hot flush washing over her, then a queasy, unsettled sensation—all warning signs from her body that something wasn’t quite right.

Not now! she thought, willing herself to overcome her wooziness.

Go away! she pleaded with her nausea. She squeezed her eyes closed, but that only made it worse.

The churning in her stomach had begun in earnest. Motion sickness was winning the battle.

She gripped her elbows, hugging herself to stifle what she knew was coming.

“Are you okay?” Gus asked.

“I’m not okay.”

“You don’t look well.” His eyes stayed on her face. “You look really pale.”

A swell of nausea rose up. “I need to get off this bus. Now.” She yanked on the cord and saw the driver glance in the rearview mirror, let out a dramatically long-suffering sigh, and pull the bus over.

She practically pushed Gus off the bench to get to the aisle and run down to the open door.

She jumped off the steps and rushed over to the side of the road, sat down, and put her head between her knees.

Please God , please God , please God , help me not throw up in front of Gus.

A moment later, Gus put a hand on her back.

“We’re going to breathe together, and you’re going to start to feel better.

” In a quiet voice, he counted five counts to breathe in, and then back out for four.

Then again, and then again. They breathed in together and out together, in sync, as she slowly started to recover.

He seemed to sense that she was too nauseated to speak because he didn’t say anything.

She tried to stand up, which was foolish because she was still woozy.

“Hold tight for a while longer,” he said, his hand lightly brushing over her prayer cap. “Your color’s just starting to pink up.”

Really? She felt like she’d gone from green to blushing furiously. “I’m sorry,” she said, closing her eyes.

He tenderly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Is it always this bad?”

She sucked in a tight breath and said, “Worse.”

“We barely made it down the road.”

Yes, she was aware of that.

He rubbed her back in gentle circles, and she felt the tight knot in her stomach gradually loosen as the nausea subsided. “Annie, when did you first know about this?”

With those horrible symptoms bearable now, she pushed her cap strings behind her shoulders and straightened her back to answer him.

“When I was just a little girl, our family took a bus ride to visit relatives in Ohio one summer, and I remember feeling sick all the way there and all the way back. My parents said never again.”

“What about cars?”

“Same thing, though I hadn’t been in a car in a very long time. Like, years. With a dairy farm, there’s never much of an opportunity to go anywhere.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was heartbreakingly soft.

“Mainly,” she said, “because I have a mortal fear of embarrassment.”

He gave that some consideration. “What if I told you something embarrassing about myself?”

“Doubtful you could top this,” she said with an eye roll.

“Ah, you have no idea. I’ve got a treasure trove of embarrassing stories.” He paused, feigning deep thought. “It’s just a matter of picking the right one.”

Despite herself, a smile tugged at her lips. “I don’t believe you.”

“Okay, got it,” he said then. “Have I told you about my first encounter with firefighters?”

“Yes. You were a volunteer firefighter.”

“No, that’s how I became involved with the firehouse. This predates that by a long shot.”

By now her breathing was steady and the dizziness had faded, leaving her with a sense of stability and relief. Lots of relief. “I’m listening.”

“Picture this. An adorable, adventurous five-year-old climbs a tree in his yard. He goes up and up and up, until he reaches the top. He forgets about the getting-down part. When he looks down, he panics. Freezes. Calls for help. Of course, no one can hear him. He’s up in the clouds.

Finally, around suppertime, his mom realizes that no one has seen him for a while.

The family goes outside and calls for him.

At last, someone hears his now weak cry for help.

His father calls the fire department. The siren can be heard in three counties.

The boy has climbed so high that they need to call in to a second fire station.

Another loud siren comes bellowing to the house.

And then a third. At this point, the entire town has arrived, curiously watching, as the boy held on to the tree for dear life.

Finally, a hook and ladder truck was dispatched to get the boy down out of the tree. ”

“And that was you?”

He grinned. “Some of those guys are still at the fire station. Not a week goes by that one or the other doesn’t remind me of the story.”

Annie heard a church bell in the distance. She needed to get back to the office soon.

Gus didn’t seem to be in much of a hurry. “Annie, how can you be an EMT when you suffer from such severe motion sickness?”

“I ... I’m not sure.”

Gus looked up into the sky at a hawk circling overhead. She wondered what was running through his mind. Was he thinking the same worry that had been keeping her up at night? That she wasn’t suited to be an EMT after all? And did that mean they weren’t suited for each other either?

He dropped his chin and turned to her. “You know what? We’re going to cure you.”