Together they trudged up the stairs where both Graber men lay sleeping, one the righteous sleep of babes and the other the most unnatural and unnerving sleep of a horse-kick coma.
***
Rebekah got Thomas and his pack of baby animals tucked up safely and soundly into his room. Part of Thomas’s agreeing to support his big schweister in her marrying Joseph Graber was that when she moved out of the Stoll family home and into her own, he would have a room of his own at her house, too. After all, she was his favorite person, and he made no qualms about hiding how much he loved and admired his schweister. And the feeling was mutual.
“Remember,” Rebekah warned as she pulled the door closed, “those little bopplins of yours might be sleeping now, but they are creatures of the night. So, consider yourself warned.”
“Sissy?”
“Yes?”
“Would you mind putting a little box with sand in here with me? I mean, in case they have to, you know…”
“I suppose it is never too early to start toilet training.” Rebekah giggled. “I will be right back.”
Rebekah pulled the door closed and stretched her back. Everything ached from her arms to her legs, but most especially, her back. Her upper back, her lower back, both places hurt with equal horror. She could almost hear her bed calling her name as she limped past the partially opened door.
Through the crack, she could see Joseph lying there, so helpless and sick. She chewed her bottom lip and made her way down the stairs. “God, I never dreamed I would find myself in a situation such as this. I want to remember Joseph in my prayers tonight, as well as my fater, Samuel.” Her heart twisted in her chest, and she climbed down the stairs. “I feel so guilty for not praying more for my sweet, sick fater. Forgive me, God, please.”
Finally, she reached the bottom. Her breath came quickly, and her head spun. “Just get a litter box, Rebekah,” she said out loud. “Then you can get to bed.”
She stumbled over to the couch.
Perhaps I can rest, just for a moment.
Rebekah sunk onto the couch, helpless to her exhaustion.
I have so many people upstairs who need me, but I am worthless if I am exhausted. I will close my eyes, just for a moment.
Rebekah awoke with a start and bolted upright. A chill, which had apparently been settling in her bones since she’d been on the couch, chattered her teeth and brought a shiver to her hands and feet. There was a noise, something so quiet yet so out of place, that it roused her from her inadvertent slumber.
She forced herself to her feet. The sound came again. Quiet. Terrifying. Upstairs. Her legs screamed as the blood rushed back to them as she hurried to the stairs in an odd, hobbling gait.
Without hesitation, she dashed up the stairs and into her bedroom. She gasped. There on the bed, Joseph, appeared to be having some sort of seizure. His helpless body jerked, and he had somehow gotten onto his side. A sickening gurgle came from his throat as his body thrashed again and again.
“Joseph!” The word, so sweet, tore from her throat in a jagged yell.
She was at his side in a moment. He had vomited again, but miraculously he had been on his side when he did so. There was no trace of vomit on the bed, only the floor.
The reality of the situation struck Rebekah like a steam engine. Had he vomited while unconscious and on his back, he would have suffocated.
Her mind flashed back to an old Amish midwife who served as the village physician whenever somebody was sick or injured. A young boy had fallen from the roof during a barn raising, landing on his neck and head. At first, everyone thought he was fine, since he jumped right up, albeit a bit embarrassed, and continued to help with the barn raising.
It was not until he was missed after lunch when he was found, behind his home, presumably having snuck off to take a nap. However, no one would ever know for sure, because he had vomited while on his back and had been dead for some time. The old midwife had muttered to herself, if only he had been on his side, he may have had a chance.
That had stuck with Rebekah through the years, in the recesses of her mind, and though she had not understood the severity at the time as she was just a young girl, she certainly understood it now.
The cold chill returned with a bone-shaking vengeance. Rebekah! How lucky are you that he was able to get himself onto his side! She shook her head. No, not lucky. Never lucky. Blessed. That was God’s own work.
Fogarty had apparently stocked her bedroom with a stack of fresh towels, a blessing she had not noticed before.
She grabbed one off the top and began to clean the vomit from the floor. She was shocked to find that Joseph’s eyes were wide and staring.
Rebekah, she mentally admonished herself. He woke up and you were not here!
“Joseph!” She moved across his field of gaze. His eyes tracked her movements.
Thank you, God!
“Joseph, can you speak?” Rebekah folded the towel and wiped her husband’s face with a clean bit of the towel.
Words, jumbled and unclear, spilled from his mouth.
Rebekah smiled. “Look how much better you are doing! Thank God you are awake.”
Still, something in his eyes did not look right, though Rebekah could not place what was off.
“Joseph, if you can understand me, please blink your eyes.”
Rebekah stared intently as Joseph peered back at her. After a moment, he blinked his eyes twice.
She found his hand and squeezed it. “Ach lieb you, Joseph. Thank you for braving that storm to keep Pepper safe. She is fine. So are Buttermilk and the chickens. Dawson is fine, Thomas is fine, and so am I. And now, I can rest well, knowing that you have woken up, too.”
He blinked deliberate blinks at her.
“You might notice that your legs are sore. You got hurt by a piece of a wagon wheel, but you are going to be just fine.”
He squeezed her hand.
