Page 40 of A Hidden Hope
David Stoltzfus eased Sally Fisher into one of the old rockers in front of the cold, still woodstove at the Bent N’ Dent.
It was early—barely seven—and the store wouldn’t open for another hour.
Over the past few days, he’d reached out to the direct descendants of Laura Zook and Carolyn Fisher, inviting them to Wren Baker’s talk about the pharmaceutical company and the trial medication.
But turnout was slim; most claimed to be too busy.
So far, Sally was here, along with her uncle Pete and his wife Elizabeth.
Carolyn Fisher’s elderly first cousins, Alice and Ada, had made it and flanked Sally on either side, as if she needed some shoring and bolstering.
Maybe she did. Or maybe they just needed to sit close enough to catch what Wren Baker had to say—their hearing was a bit hit or miss.
To David’s surprise, Clara Zook had arrived with her babies in a stroller. He hadn’t even thought to invite her. Clara wasn’t directly related to Laura Zook—her husband was, though the connection was extremely distant.
Two others showed up who weren’t related to anyone but always managed to find their way into these sorts of gatherings: Hank Lapp and Sarah Blank.
David considered asking them to leave but thought better of it.
He didn’t want Clara to misunderstand and think he meant her. She was sensitive like that.
Wren stood in front of the small group, holding the files.
She looked at each person before she introduced herself.
“Thank you for coming today. While clearing out the basement of Dr. Stoltzfus’s office, I found these three files.
They contain records from two generations ago, documenting a trial medication given to three Amish women suffering from postpartum depression.
The drug had severe side effects, and many of these women, including my grandmother, suffered greatly from it. ”
“WHO’S your grandmother?” That came from Hank.
“Mary Baker.”
The Zooks exchanged a look. “Baseball Joe’s Mary?” Pete said.
“My grandfather was named Joseph,” Wren said, “and he was a baseball player.”
“Why, I do remember them,” Elizabeth said.
Wren was delighted. “I’m so pleased that you remember my grandparents!”
“That’s because we’re AMISH,” Hank said. “Everybody finds out EVERYTHING.”
Sarah, leaning against the checkout counter, giggled.
Elizabeth lifted a hand. “But I believe Mary and Joe left the Amish.”
“That’s correct,” Wren said.
“Joe wanted to become a professional baseball player,” Pete Zook said. “Did he ever do it?”
“Well, no,” Wren said. “He was a used car salesman.”
“OOOOF,” Hank said. “Not even close.”
“If we could stay focused,” Wren said with a frown at Hank, “I wondered if you could think back. Were you aware of your relative taking this medicine? Did it give her any lingering side effects? For example, my grandmother Mary didn’t have any other children after twins.”
“MAYBE twins were ENOUGH for her. Our Clara might understand THAT!” Hank said. “CAN’T you, Clara? When those babies start hollering, my molars start RATTLING.”
Mortified, Clara Zook stood against the wall, pushing the twins’ stroller back and forth. She pressed her finger against her mouth to silence Hank, but he’d gone back to cracking open shells to pop peanuts in his mouth, oblivious. David shook his head.
“Oh, that is too bad,” Sally Fisher said. “Children are a blessing from the Lord. Though sometimes sons can be rather insensitive. Don’t expect much on Mother’s Day, I’ve learned.”
Oh boy, David thought.
Wren looked a little panicked. “So I wondered if your relatives might have had a similar result from taking the drug.”
“And WHAT drug was this?” Hank said.
Wren sighed. “It was called Serofem and it was taken for postpartum depression.”
Hank leaned forward in his rocking chair. “POSTPARTY depression?”
“Close enough,” Wren said with a minimal eye roll. “It often hits after a woman delivers a baby. Some experience a lot of difficulty in those first few weeks and months. It should be a happy time for a mother—”
“It is a happy time,” Elizabeth said.
“Happy until your children marry,” Sally said, “and forget all about you.”
Wren put her hands together, as if trying to reel everyone back in. “Let’s return to the matter at hand. Some women have hormonal fluctuations that make it quite difficult to care for their baby and for themselves.”
“Maybe for the Englisch,” Elizabeth said, “but not for us.”
Wren sighed. “Maybe not for most Amish women, but some do suffer from postpartum depression.” She lifted the files. “These three women suffered greatly and they suffered alone. That’s why they went to Dr. Finegold and why he gave them the drug.”
“Did it help?” Everyone turned to Clara Zook, pushing her stroller back and forth. Her eyes were on Wren. “Did the medicine fix them?”
“No,” Wren said. “It didn’t. It only caused more problems.”
Clara’s chin dropped. Just then, one of the babies began to stir, letting out a few squeaks, then a full cry, and soon enough, the other joined in, wailing in unison.
Clara quickly pushed the stroller out of the store.
David considered chasing her, thinking he might offer to take the stroller for a spin around the parking lot so she could stay in the meeting, but with both babies now crying at full volume, he knew she wouldn’t accept his help.
Besides, he recognized that his place was right here in this meeting.
He needed to stop putting it off and go have that talk with Jacob Zook. Soon.
When the door closed behind Clara, Wren—looking a bit relieved that the noisy babies were gone—picked up where she left off.
“It seems my grandmother’s depression only worsened after she’d taken Serofem.
Some reports suggest that infertility was one result.
Can any of you remember if there might have been side effects for your loved one? ”
“Now that you mention it,” Pete said, “my father was youngest of two children. My grandmother was Laura Zook. Does seem kind of rare to have such a small family, at least among the Plain people.”
“See?” Wren lit up. “That’s exactly the kind of information I’m looking for. It’s entirely possible that your grandmother was affected by the drug. What about Carolyn Fisher?”
Sally Fisher’s arm shot right up in the air. “My husband’s father was her only child.”
Wren turned to her. “So Carolyn had no other children?”
Sally shook her head.
“Don’t you see?” Wren said, her arms flying in the air. “These were such young women! It’s entirely possible that they were unable to have more children after they took this drug. It’s no wonder their depression deepened.”
Ada and Alice, whose hearing wasn’t stellar, had been quiet throughout the meeting. But now Ada lifted a finger in the air. “Cousin Carolyn was always a bit...”
“Down in the dumps,” Alice finished. “Even as a child.”
David could see Wren grow increasingly baffled. She wanted people to get excited, to feel indignant, but they remained calm. Other than Sally Fisher. She looked quite distressed.
“These young women,” Wren said, her voice earnest, “didn’t know the risks they were taking.
They weren’t told about the potential side effects.
Dr. Finegold didn’t tell them. That was wrong.
The drug company didn’t ensure that every trial participant had given consent.
That was wrong. The pharmaceutical company should be held accountable for what happened.
” She clapped her hands together. “We have powerful evidence to proceed.”
“PROCEED?” Hank said. “Proceed in WHAT?”
“In a lawsuit against Pharmogen.”
David watched as the mood in the room subtly shifted the moment Wren mentioned the lawsuit. Their expressions would be tough for anyone to read, especially for someone unfamiliar with the Plain way of masking emotions, but even Wren seemed to sense the sudden drop in temperature.
She ramped up her pitch, hands waving like she was trying to flag down a passing buggy. “It’s already underway! You won’t have to do a thing, just submit your relative’s file. I’ll represent you. You’ll never have to step foot in court. I’ve got it all covered.”
Still nothing. The families remained stone-faced. Wren’s gaze darted from one expressionless face to another, searching for a flicker of interest. Nothing. Not a spark. Not even from Sally Fisher.
Finally, Pete Zook rose to his feet, his voice gentle but firm.
“We thank you for caring about our relatives, and for wanting us to understand the ... uh ... situation they were in. We’re awfully sorry about Baseball Joe’s Mary.
That’s a real shame, not being able to have any more little ones.
But we think it’s best to let God be the judge here. ”
Quietly, he helped Elizabeth to her feet and they made their way to the door. Ada and Alice followed behind. Then Sally and Hank. Sarah made herself scarce and went to the storeroom to look for supplies.
As the store emptied, Wren, bewildered, sank into a rocker, lost in thought. After a long moment, she turned to David, her eyes wide with disbelief. “I don’t understand. How could they not want vindication?”
“The Amish believe that revenge is up to God. They trust in his justice and mercy, knowing that retribution isn’t their job.”
Wren shook her head, still trying to process it. “But they were wronged. Doesn’t it matter that their relatives were wronged?”
David nodded. “Of course it matters. But peace doesn’t come from trying to fix the wrong. It comes from trusting that God will handle it, in his time.”
It was clear Wren wasn’t convinced. “True peace can only come with justice.”
“I agree with you,” David said, “but true justice can only come from God. Only he knows what’s in a person’s heart.” He paused to let that sink in. “Two things can be true at the same time.”