Page 9 of A Hidden Hope

It was a shame, Annie thought, that Wren and Charlie couldn’t wait for Dok to ask their opinions before blurting them out.

It seemed that Dok already had doubts about them, and their competing diagnoses weren’t helping.

Just yesterday, an elderly man came in with an inflamed toe.

Wren took a look and suggested gout. Charlie countered with arthritis.

Meanwhile, the patient sat there, nodding politely, probably wondering if either of them had a clue.

Dok examined his toe, picked up tweezers, and, without a word, pulled out a deep splinter.

Afterwards, Dok reminded Annie to let them know, every single day, that they weren’t to interact with patients in any way, not even if Evie were present. Not without Dok’s permission and supervision.

As if Annie could tell such a thing to Wren and Charlie. She would never!

Instead, she thrust into their hands a pile of insurance forms to fill out.

Normally, Annie handled claims, but she had no problem relinquishing that tedious task.

Anything to keep the two of them busy and away from patients when Dok was out of the office.

Wren filled out her pile of paperwork in record time, then took Charlie’s pile.

Meanwhile, Charlie was completely preoccupied with the initial phases of the basement remodel. As in, cleaning it out.

To Annie’s amazement, Wren dove right in to supervise the cleanout.

Her enthusiasm was impressive, especially since Dok and Annie rarely ventured down to the basement.

Spiders, mice, boxes of musty old patient files from Dok’s predecessor, odds and ends—who knew what else lurked in that basement?

Annie would’ve thought Wren was too fancy for such a messy task, but no!

She masterminded the entire job. She even hired Hank Lapp and his donkey cart to haul everything off.

Annie would’ve thought Wren might steer clear of Hank after the spaghetti jar incident with her mother, but she was surprisingly tolerant of him.

She kept him on task, even when he got distracted by old curiosities like outdated medical equipment.

Wren didn’t seem bothered by Hank’s loud storytelling, which went on nonstop as she and Charlie emptied out the basement.

Hank’s voice carried like the wind—it went everywhere.

And so, during that first week, a routine emerged: Each morning, Fern would drop Charlie, Wren, and Evie off at Dok’s office in the buggy and leave three scooters for them to return home at the end of the day.

Charlie would head straight to the basement, Evie would go to the exam room to start preparing for the first patient, but Wren would stand next to Annie’s desk and ask to see the day’s patient list.

Dok typically arrived a bit later, often stopping by the hospital to see a patient or making a house call along the way.

So Annie would hem and haw and hand Wren some paperwork to do.

She’d do it immediately, thoroughly, return it to Annie, and ask again to see the patient list. If Annie knew Dok was due in to the office soon, she’d point to the window that overlooked the parking lot.

“Any minute now, you’ll see her car drive up. ”

Annie excelled at sidestepping conflict.

If Dok had been delayed, Wren would head down to the base ment to supervise the cleanout.

After barking out a few orders to Charlie and Hank, she’d swap her high heels for sneakers and scooter home to Windmill Farm.

“Might as well use the time to study for my board exams,” she told Annie as she left.

Annie didn’t blame Dok for holding off on bringing Wren and Charlie along for house calls.

She had spent years earning the trust of the Amish, and Wren and Charlie couldn’t just assume they had it too.

She explained as much to them: Practicing medicine here was as much about relationships as treatment.

Charlie didn’t seem to mind—he was perfectly content banging away in the basement. But Wren’s frustration was obvious. Annie could tell that she wasn’t really taking Dok’s advice to heart.

On the other hand, Dok seemed more than happy to give plenty of patient-care responsibilities to Evie the nurse, including taking her on house calls.

This was heading in the wrong direction.

Annie was weeks away from completing her EMT course.

She should’ve, could’ve finished after spring quarter, but her mother had a bout of something or other.

The true cause of the something or other—Annie’s older brothers had forgotten to remember Mom on Mother’s Day.

Not a card, not a call. Devastated, resentful, Mom took to her bed.

She conjured up an imagined disease, possibly terminal, to punish those errant sons.

As usual, Annie had dropped everything. She couldn’t leave her dad to manage the dairy cows alone.

She couldn’t leave Dok without help at the office on Saturday mornings.

Her mom had been covering for her so she could take the EMT course, but eventually, something had to give.

Annie ended up with an incomplete in the course.

Mom, who had never fully accepted the notion of her daughter as an EMT, was delighted.

The closer Annie had been getting to finishing the coursework, the more her mother ramped up attempts to dissuade her.

Yet, despite Annie’s disappointment at postponing the completion of the EMT course, she didn’t mind postponing the end of her tenure at Dok’s office.

She loved the work, loved being around Dok.

She’d been dreading the moment when she would need to leave the practice.

Dreaded the thought of actually telling Dok the time had come to find a replacement.

And that time was coming soon. Annie was going to finish what she started.

Last week, she had started an evening course again for the summer quarter.

Her eagerness to be an EMT hadn’t diminished one little bit, even with dropping out.

God had called her to this important work, very specifically and clearly, and opened the door to training to be an EMT, despite her mother’s doubts and objections.

Last evening, Gus was over helping Annie study—something he did rather a lot of. That, too, was one reason Annie didn’t object to postponing the end of her EMT course work. It meant more time with Gus. Mr. Wonderful.

They were sitting at the kitchen table, and her parents had just gone out to check on the dairy cows for the night.

A pencil had slipped out of Annie’s hands, and as she and Gus bent down at the same time to get it, their faces were only inches apart.

They stilled, and he whispered, “Annie, there’s something I want to ask you.

” He leaned a little closer, so close that she held her breath—and then the door opened, and in burst her mother.

“It’s getting dark out there!” Mom said. “No moon tonight. I need a flashlight so I don’t trip and fall. My cousin Gloria told me about her neighbor who tripped and fell and broke her hip and had to have surgery and then an infection set in and she died a grueling, horrible death.”

Gus straightened in his chair. “Sally, I know that neighbor. She was one hundred and two years old.” He happened to live next door to Sally’s cousin Gloria and knew of her delight in repeating tales of woe.

Often, those stories began with Gus! He liked to talk about events in his EMT work.

No names or identifying details, of course, but they weren’t needed. The stories were gruesome enough.

A bit later that evening, Gus lingered outside the front door, slow to say goodbye. “Annie, have you talked to Dok about resigning?”

“Not yet. First, I need to pass the final exam.”

“No problem there.”

She smiled. He was always rooting for her. “I can’t seem to find time to talk to her alone since the new ... um ... medical professionals have arrived.” She glanced up at him. “You said you had something to ask me?”

“I do,” Gus said, clearing his throat. “There’s going to be an opening at my station.” He leaned in slightly, his eyes shining with excitement. “What would you think about us working together?”

What would she think? It would be like living in a constant state of spring, where even the most routine tasks felt thrilling.

What would she think? Every day would be an adventure, and she’d be counting down the hours until she could start each morning with him.

But all she could manage to say was, “Ich kann vun wunners net saage.” I don’t know what to say .

“Say yes.” Gus took a step closer, his voice full of hope. “I can talk to the captain and see about setting up an interview for you.”

At this, Annie hesitated. “That’s kind of you, Gus, but I really would like to talk to Dok before I start interviewing. I wouldn’t want her to hear about it from someone else. I have been trying to talk to her—I just need to figure out the right time.”

Gus closed the gap between them, his gaze intense. “And then there’s ... us. We need to figure that out too.”

The door opened wide. “Gus!” Mom said. “Are you still here?”

“Just leaving now, Sally.” Under his breath, he whispered, “Your mother’s timing is impeccable.” He gave Annie a wink and headed to his buggy.

Even this morning, as she scootered to work, Annie couldn’t keep the grin off her face.

Not even when the waiting room filled with patients and there was still no sign of Dok.

Not even when the phone rang and she picked it up.

“Dok Stoltzfus’s office,” she said with a little bounce in her voice. She couldn’t help it!

“Annie, it’s Dok. I’m going to be a little delayed.”

Annie’s happiness burst like a balloon. “Delayed? Dok, how late will you be?”

Murmurs all around—not happy ones—as patients cued into Annie’s call and realized their wait just got longer.

“An hour. Two, tops.”