to get Matthew to hitch up the buggy," Jenny said quickly. "You stay right here and when I come back I'll help you get dressed."
"I can get dressed by myself," Phoebe grumbled.
But when Jenny returned, Phoebe hadn't moved.
"Back so soon?" she asked, looking a little bewildered.
"It's just that you're not feeling well," Jenny soothed, reaching for a dress. "Here, I'll help you."
She'd always thought that the name Phoebe suited her grandmother for she was a tiny, birdlike woman who flitted around with such energy and bright-eyed enthusiasm. Now Phoebe seemed even smaller and more frail. She'd never seemed old.
Until now.
Even though she was sick, Phoebe insisted on going through the laborious motions of brushing and binding up her waistlong hair and putting on her
kapp.
But the effort cost her. By the time she finished she was white and her breathing was raspy.
There was a knock on the door. "Phoebe, are you ready?" Matthew called out.
Jenny opened the door. "She's ready."
"I'm sorry for all the trouble," Phoebe said as she walked past him.
"It's no trouble at all," he told her, gallantly taking her arm and walking with her.
When she stopped and started coughing, a hacking cough that left her leaning against the doorframe, he scooped her up and carried her to the buggy.
"I can walk."
Matthew slanted a look at Jenny. "I've heard that before."
"I—haven't been—carried in years. I remember when—" she broke off and began coughing again.
"Sounds like it might be a good story," he said as he lifted her onto the backseat of the buggy. "But I think you better save your breath and tell me sometime later."
"I think we should take her straight to the emergency room," he whispered to Jenny as they rounded the buggy.
"She agreed to go to the doctor, so we're taking her there. If the doctor thinks she should go to the ER, we'll go there."
The news wasn't good.
"Phoebe has pneumonia," the doctor told them. "I'm recommending that she go to the hospital."
"No hospital," Phoebe said firmly. "Where do you think I got it?"
"Now, you don't know that."
Phoebe sniffed. "No one is sick around me but a hospital's a hotbed of germs. I bet I got it there when I went to the emergency room. I want to go home." She looked at Jenny, then Matthew. "I want to go home."
"I don't think that's a good idea," the doctor interjected.
"They'll take care of me at home," Phoebe insisted. "I don't have to go to the hospital just because I have pneumonia. Fannie Mae had it last year and she didn't go to the hospital."
"I'd prefer it, considering the heart condition."
When Phoebe just continued to stare at him, he sighed, reached into his desk drawer, pulled out a prescription pad, and started writing. "I'll have the nurse come in and talk to you."
"I can take care of you," Jenny said slowly, an idea forming. "But you'll have to move into the
dawdi haus."
She raised her hand when Phoebe started to object."Remember Hannah's condition. We can't risk her getting sick."
Phoebe looked at Matthew.
"She makes a good point, Phoebe. And you know we love you and will do anything we can for you."
Casting her eyes heavenward, Phoebe nodded. "You are one stubborn woman, Jenny Rebecca."
Jenny just smiled and held out her hand for the prescriptions. "Gee, wonder where I got that?" She stood. "Now, let's get you home."
6
T he dawdi haus hadn't been used since Chris had stayed there when he first came to Paradise.
But nothing sat around unkempt on an Amish farm, so it only needed "a lick and a promise." Joshua swept, Mary wiped down the kitchen and the inside of the refrigerator, and Annie helped Jenny put fresh linens on the bed. Matthew went off to get the prescriptions filled and Chris helped by taking over Joshua and Matthew's chores.
Hannah contributed by sending over a big pot of chicken soup.
As quickly as she could, Jenny got her grandmother dressed in a nightgown and tucked into bed. Matthew returned with the prescriptions. Phoebe
"I can get dressed by myself," Phoebe grumbled.
But when Jenny returned, Phoebe hadn't moved.
"Back so soon?" she asked, looking a little bewildered.
"It's just that you're not feeling well," Jenny soothed, reaching for a dress. "Here, I'll help you."
She'd always thought that the name Phoebe suited her grandmother for she was a tiny, birdlike woman who flitted around with such energy and bright-eyed enthusiasm. Now Phoebe seemed even smaller and more frail. She'd never seemed old.
Until now.
Even though she was sick, Phoebe insisted on going through the laborious motions of brushing and binding up her waistlong hair and putting on her
kapp.
But the effort cost her. By the time she finished she was white and her breathing was raspy.
There was a knock on the door. "Phoebe, are you ready?" Matthew called out.
Jenny opened the door. "She's ready."
"I'm sorry for all the trouble," Phoebe said as she walked past him.
"It's no trouble at all," he told her, gallantly taking her arm and walking with her.
When she stopped and started coughing, a hacking cough that left her leaning against the doorframe, he scooped her up and carried her to the buggy.
"I can walk."
Matthew slanted a look at Jenny. "I've heard that before."
"I—haven't been—carried in years. I remember when—" she broke off and began coughing again.
"Sounds like it might be a good story," he said as he lifted her onto the backseat of the buggy. "But I think you better save your breath and tell me sometime later."
"I think we should take her straight to the emergency room," he whispered to Jenny as they rounded the buggy.
"She agreed to go to the doctor, so we're taking her there. If the doctor thinks she should go to the ER, we'll go there."
The news wasn't good.
"Phoebe has pneumonia," the doctor told them. "I'm recommending that she go to the hospital."
"No hospital," Phoebe said firmly. "Where do you think I got it?"
"Now, you don't know that."
Phoebe sniffed. "No one is sick around me but a hospital's a hotbed of germs. I bet I got it there when I went to the emergency room. I want to go home." She looked at Jenny, then Matthew. "I want to go home."
"I don't think that's a good idea," the doctor interjected.
"They'll take care of me at home," Phoebe insisted. "I don't have to go to the hospital just because I have pneumonia. Fannie Mae had it last year and she didn't go to the hospital."
"I'd prefer it, considering the heart condition."
When Phoebe just continued to stare at him, he sighed, reached into his desk drawer, pulled out a prescription pad, and started writing. "I'll have the nurse come in and talk to you."
"I can take care of you," Jenny said slowly, an idea forming. "But you'll have to move into the
dawdi haus."
She raised her hand when Phoebe started to object."Remember Hannah's condition. We can't risk her getting sick."
Phoebe looked at Matthew.
"She makes a good point, Phoebe. And you know we love you and will do anything we can for you."
Casting her eyes heavenward, Phoebe nodded. "You are one stubborn woman, Jenny Rebecca."
Jenny just smiled and held out her hand for the prescriptions. "Gee, wonder where I got that?" She stood. "Now, let's get you home."
6
T he dawdi haus hadn't been used since Chris had stayed there when he first came to Paradise.
But nothing sat around unkempt on an Amish farm, so it only needed "a lick and a promise." Joshua swept, Mary wiped down the kitchen and the inside of the refrigerator, and Annie helped Jenny put fresh linens on the bed. Matthew went off to get the prescriptions filled and Chris helped by taking over Joshua and Matthew's chores.
Hannah contributed by sending over a big pot of chicken soup.
As quickly as she could, Jenny got her grandmother dressed in a nightgown and tucked into bed. Matthew returned with the prescriptions. Phoebe
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