Page 38 of A Hidden Hope

However this rolled out, it was clear to her that Wren was not the partner she’d been hoping to find.

She had a bright future in medicine ahead of her, but not as a country doctor, not to the Amish.

She was far too cunning, too canny. Dok doubted Wren would even stick around once this lawsuit business was settled.

Dok leaned back in her chair and let out a long sigh.

Evie’s contract was almost up. Every time Dok had casually mentioned extending it for another three months, Evie had seemed open to the idea.

But when Dok brought it up again on Friday, just in passing, Evie dropped a bomb—she’d had a change of heart. Apparently, she needed an adventure.

Dok had blinked, baffled. Medicine was an adventure.

Meanwhile, Annie was gearing up for her final EMT exam and would probably be moving on soon—assuming they could figure out how to tackle her ongoing battle with motion sickness.

Dok leaned forward and gently knocked her forehead on the desk a few times. That left her with ... Charlie.

After work, Annie sat nervously in Dok’s office, flanked by Charlie and Wren. This morning, Charlie had administered a bunch of tests to Annie, supervised by Evie. Dok had asked if Annie minded her bringing in the residents to be part of this conversation. “Just to give them experience,” Dok said.

Annie said she didn’t mind, though she did. She minded Wren, mostly. Being around her made Annie feel as if she was witnessing a bullfight, minus the bull.

“All right, Annie,” Dok said, glancing at the patient chart on the computer. “The basic tests Charlie gave you all came back normal.”

Wren leaned forward, her brow knit in thought. “Perhaps we should consider more specialized testing? An MRI or CT scan could rule out any structural problems in the brain or inner ear.”

Annie’s hands fidgeted in her lap, and she felt her heart rate increase. “Is that necessary?” She couldn’t afford all those fancy tests.

Dok shot Annie a knowing look. “Wren is just making sure that nothing gets overlooked.” She glanced at Charlie, who’d been quiet. “What about you? Any theory that could point to a clear cause?”

Charlie looked up, seemingly surprised to be in the spotlight—not so much like he’d been caught daydreaming but as if he hadn’t expected to be asked for his opinion. “Well, I was thinking, maybe, could it be stress? Or anxiety?”

Annie’s mind started to race. “What could that mean?”

Wren’s voice broke into her thoughts. “It’s possible that your response could be psychosomatic.”

Annie’s anxiety ratcheted up a couple of notches.

“It’s possible,” Wren said, “deep down, there’s self-sabotage involved.”

“What?” Annie said. It came out like a squeak.

“Like, maybe you don’t believe you deserve to be happy. Maybe you’re looking for a reason to fail.” Wren folded her arms against her chest. “I could find you a therapist.”

Charlie gave Wren a look like Really?

Wren lifted her hands in the air. “What?”

Dok raised her eyebrows. “Wren, let’s stay focused on practical ways to help Annie with this problem.”

“That’s exactly what I’m trying to do,” Wren said.

Charlie rolled his eyes. Then he turned to Annie to offer reassurance. “I think Wren is trying to say that there’s help to be had, Annie. Whatever the cause of this might be.”

“Not necessarily,” Wren said. “There’s all kinds of documented cases of permanent motion sickness.”

“We’re not at that point quite yet,” Dok said, frowning at Wren.

“Annie, I’d like to send you to a friend of mine, Dr. Fitzgerald.

He’s an ENT—ear, nose, and throat—and owes me a favor.

He’ll be able to do more specific tests to find out exactly what’s causing the motion sickness.

Then we can figure out how to solve this problem. It’ll just take time.”

But Annie was running out of time.

And, if Wren was right, she might already be just like her mother.

Dok had saved the end-of-day appointment for Annie, to go over the results of her tests, and wanted Wren and Charlie to sit in on it.

That meant Evie could go home early, which was perfectly fine by her.

The more space she could keep between her and Charlie—without making it too obvious—the better.

Later that afternoon, just before supper, Evie joined Fern for a walk up to the orchard to check on the apples.

They strolled through rows of apple trees, the air rich with the scent of ripening fruit.

The summer sun glinted off the apples hanging firm and green on the branches, with just a blush of red starting to show.

“Needs a few more weeks,” Fern said casually, running her hand along the leaves before she darted away, leaving Evie to wander on her own.

Evie couldn’t help but smile as she watched Fern disappear down the row of trees.

That woman always seemed to know when to stay and when to go, leaving her with just the right amount of company and solitude.

And right now, Evie needed solitude. As much as she tried to push it away, David Stoltzfus’s words kept echoing in her mind: “Don’t be half a Christian! ”

She sighed and bent down to pick up a fallen apple, rolling it between her palms. Half a Christian.

Was that what she was? The thought gnawed at her.

She’d spent her whole life going through the motions, following the rules, doing what was expected.

Her parents had swept her up in their faith so fully, so completely, that she never really thought much about it.

It was just ... there. Like the air she breathed.

It wasn’t a choice; it was a given. Their faith had been so large, so overwhelming, that there wasn’t any room left for her to make her own decision about it.

Evie tossed the apple lightly in her hand before letting it drop back to the ground. She was starting to realize, with a bit of a sting, that maybe she had never truly decided anything for herself when it came to God.

She brushed her hands on her skirt and wandered farther into the orchard, feeling the quiet sturdiness of the trees around her.

David’s words had cut deep. The more she thought about them, the more she knew he had described her.

Half a Christian, caught in the middle between faith and rules.

She’d followed the “do unto others” bit to the letter, but when it came to experiencing the blessings of faith—the peace, the assurance that God truly cared about her—she’d come up short.

If she only believed halfway, she was missing out on everything that faith had to offer.

No peace. No confidence. No assurance that she mattered much to God.

But then she thought about Charlie’s words that she was born to be a nurse.

Maybe God had been guiding her, all along, even though she was oblivious to it.

A memorized Bible verse from years of Sunday school popped into her head: “If we are faithless, he remains faithful, for he cannot disown himself.”

God doesn’t give up on us.

Evie glanced down the row where Fern had disappeared.

She needed to talk to someone about this.

Maybe Fern. She squinted. Probably not. Fern wasn’t exactly the type who invited long heart-to-heart chats.

Maybe she just needed more time to think.

Either way, she knew one thing for sure: She couldn’t keep living as half a Christian.

If she was going to have faith, it had to be the real thing, or it wasn’t worth much at all.

Annie had just locked up for the day and was turning off the light in the exam room when frantic banging rattled the front door, followed by someone shouting for help.

She rushed over and opened the door to find Tina Smucker, barely holding up her husband Abe, who looked ghostly pale and drenched in sweat.

“Annie, help! It’s Abe!” Tina’s voice wobbled with fear.

“Come in!” Annie helped get Abe into a chair in the waiting room. Then she sprinted to the door leading downstairs, flung it open, and cupped her hands around her mouth. “Charlie!”

Charlie had been in the garden level, studying in the small office, and barreled up the stairs when he heard Annie’s shout, sandwich in his hand. His eyes went wide at the sight of Abe. He dropped the sandwich and rushed over, immediately taking Abe’s pulse. “Where’s Dok?”

“Dok and Wren left on a house call.”

“Evie?”

“She left for Windmill Farm over an hour ago.”

A look of panic flitted through Charlie’s eyes. “Should I call for an ambulance? This must be, uh ... a cardiac event, right? Should I get nitroglycerin? Or aspirin?”

Annie’s gaze swept over Abe, taking in his flushed face and the sweat rolling down his cheeks, the wisps of straw in his beard. “Tina, what’s he been doing all day?”

“He’s been out in the fields, cutting hay,” Tina said, her voice laced with concern.

Annie turned to Charlie. “I think it’s heat exhaustion.”

“Heat exhaustion?” Charlie echoed, half question, half statement, as though testing out the words.

“Abe needs cooling down. He needs water.” Annie went to the bathroom and grabbed some cloths, soaking them with cool water, then filled a glass and brought it to Abe. While he sipped the water, she pressed the cold cloths on Abe’s neck and wrists, her movements deliberately calm.

Charlie ran a hand over his chin, looking increasingly nervous. “Annie,” he said, “are you sure he’s just overheated?”

“Pretty sure. We’ll know soon.” A minute later, Annie smiled. “See? He’s already starting to look better.” Abe’s face had lost that bright red color.

“Shouldn’t we, uh, be doing ... more? Something preventative?” Charlie glanced at Abe, then at Annie, still holding his breath like he expected Abe to keel right over.

Tina let out a relieved sigh. She could see that Abe was improving. Annie could see it. Why didn’t Charlie? It was as if he wasn’t trusting his own eyes.

It wasn’t long before Abe felt well enough to go home. Charlie helped him out to the buggy. After Tina and Abe drove off, Charlie searched out Annie. She was putting the used wet cloths in a laundry bin to wash. “You did really well there, Annie. Calm, cool, collected.”

“Thanks.” She dipped her head, a little embarrassed by the praise.

“What tipped you off to heat exhaustion?”

It seemed so obvious. “The wisps of straw in his beard.”

Charlie looked at her in amazement. “For real? That’s all?”

She rattled off the other things she’d noticed: It had been a very hot day.

Abe wasn’t clutching his chest. His face was bright red, but his skin was cold and clammy.

He was sweating profusely, like his body was trying to cool down.

“EMT training teaches us to assess a situation before taking action.”

He shook his head, clearly impressed. “Is this all just second nature for you? Staying so calm?”

“Well, EMT training teaches us to stay calm, in every situation. Even as an EMT enters an emergency scene, we’re told to not run but to walk in, to keep our movements slow and deliberate.” She glanced at him. “Wasn’t that what you were taught to do in medical school?”

Charlie coughed a laugh. “Not at all. What was taught was to be the fastest draw in class.” He whipped out his hands and pointed them like guns.

“Sorry.” He dropped his hands. “Totally inappropriate thing to say to a pacifist. What I meant was, we were encouraged to make a fast, decisive diagnosis.”

“Even if it’s wrong?”

He laughed. “Thankfully, I could usually rely on someone else to keep me from shooting from the hip.” He smacked his forehead. “Sorry! I did it again.”

Annie had to smile at him. Charlie could be funny.

She enjoyed being around him, even if he did need a big dose of confidence if he was ever going to win over Dok.

She could tell Dok didn’t have a lot of faith in him.

Whenever she wanted a second opinion on a patient, she always asked Wren first. Charlie came second, kind of a polite ask. Like “oh, you’re here too.”

As Annie scootered home, she thought about what she’d told Charlie about EMT training. She wondered if she’d ever get to put her training into action, to walk in calmly on an emergency scene, to assess a situation before acting. Would she ever be an EMT? The very thought made her feel like weeping.