“Mm-hmm,” he muttered. Then, turning away from his patient, he produced a tiny book from the black bag and scribbled something down. He replaced the notebook in the bag and turned his attention back to Samuel. “On to the chest and belly.”
The old man poked and prodded, felt and observed every part of her fater. By the time he finished, Samuel’s eyes had begun to flutter.
“Good morning, Mr. Stoll. I am Fogarty Johnson, the town doctor of Montgomery, for all intents and purposes. You have a wonderful family.”
Samuel grunted and Rebekah saw him squeeze Fogarty’s fingers.
“May I ask you a few questions about your health?”
Samuel grunted again.
“I will take that as a yes.”
Fogarty was just as precise in his questioning, as he was in his assessment. And so respectful, as well.
“Have you had this before?”
Samuel managed a tiny nod. “Heart,” he breathed, “sea- sea- sea-”
“Seizure,” Rebekah whispered. “A heart seizure.”
“I see.” Fogarty narrowed his eyes. “Have you had any pain in your legs?”
Samuel managed another nod. “Left.”
“A shooting pain that calms to a dull ache?”
“Jah.”
Fogarty flipped back the blankets and examined her fater’s legs. First, the right, which appeared to be normal. Then the left, which gave him pause. On the back of his lower leg was a swollen, red area that looked quite out of place.
Fogarty replaced the blanket over Samuel’s legs and sat back on his heels. Taking off his glasses, he rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I think,” he began, “that your heart is just fine. But it’s your blood that is the problem. It is clotting where it should not.”
“What do you do for that?” Elnora had quietly joined them as they watched their fater’s assessment. Elnora’s voice brought a tiny smile to Samuel’s lips.
She saw it and sat down beside him, taking his hand in hers. “My husband is very strong, you see.”
Fogarty stood up and smiled at the family. “I can see that he is. And so very loved.”
“Is it treatable, Fogarty?” Joseph’s voice sounded concerned in the sense that if Fogarty told him that if he brought back milk from the moon, Samuel might have a chance, he would do it.
“There are three things to do for contrary blood that clots in the wrong places.” Fogarty replaced his hat and smoothed the hair around his ears. “Rest. Prayer. And leeches.”
Rebekah’s mouth fell open. Before she could speak, he continued.
“You, good people, will provide the first two. I shall return with the third in short order.”
Nobody, not even Joseph, had the words to respond to the strange Englischer and, instead, only watched as he walked across the room and out the door.
Chapter Three
Another storm rumbled in the distance as Rebekah and Joseph walked the worn path that connected their home to the Stoll homestead. And, from the blackness of the horizon, it looked as if it was going to be a bigger storm than the one that had just passed. Thomas had run on ahead, anxious to get out of the looming weather before it came without warning and forced him to take another makeshift bath in the mudroom.
“How did you find Fogarty?” Rebekah asked. She reached over and tweaked Dawson’s tiny nose as Joseph held him close.
“I found him to be knowledgeable. It certainly made sense, what he was saying as he explained everything.” Joseph looked thoughtful. “And he really seemed to know what he was doing as he examined your Pa.”
Rebekah nodded. “More leeches may be the answer, according to him.”
“Better to try that than try nothing, I suppose.”
Another roll of thunder preceded a cool swirl of wind as the storm crept closer.
Rebekah shivered. “Do you suppose we will make it home before the storm hits?”
Joseph smiled down at Dawson. “I certainly hope so. And even if we cannot, I know Thomas will. I do not think he could stand taking two baths in one day.”
Rebekah giggled softly. It was true. Of all the things in the world that Thomas loved, from sunny days to kittens to adventures in the woods and his schweister, a bath made the extreme end of that list.
She glanced at Joseph and her heart panged in her chest as she watched her mann with their sohn. “You have not taken your eyes off the bopplin all day.”
“He is really something, isn’t he?” Joseph’s eyes sparkled when they met hers. “Our sohn. He made me a fater.” Emotion broke his voice just as a crack of thunder warned them to hurry. Despite the ominous warning, Joseph reached and took Rebekah’s hand in his. “No man could be happier than I am right now. I have a divinely sent fraa and miracle sohn. Ich lieb you, Rebekah.”
Without warning, Joseph pulled her closer to him, effectively erasing the distance between them. “I have not done this nearly enough.” He released her hand only long enough to cup the side of her face. He stared intensely into her eyes before pressing his lips to hers.
Something deep within Rebekah warmed at his touch. There had been no time for kissing and cuddling, or schmunzla as it was generally called, much less anything more intimate since the bopplin was born. Joseph’s sudden, tender touch and gentle kiss were strangely foreign, but so very welcome. “Ich lieb you, too, Joseph.”
A sudden longing, something that bordered strangely on fear, coursed through her. Hold on to your mann, hold him tight! No one is promised tomorrow! What if it was him lying in a bed sick at death’s door?
