Neighbors Of Lancaster County: Amish Weddings Part 24

"All right." Zane certainly didn't want to elaborate. He doubted Lila would say more than that to him.

"Is Rose around?"

"She's hanging the wash."

Tim glanced at the stove, and then went to the refrigerator and took out a plastic container full of roast beef and a jar of mustard.

"Want a sandwich?" Tim asked.

"Sure," Zane answered.

"Gut," Tim said. "I can have some company while I eat mine." When he finished making his, he motioned to Zane while he pulled a gallon of milk from the refrigerator and poured two gla.s.ses.

As they sat down at the table, Rose came in, carrying the empty basket and a stack of mail. "Sorry, Dat," she said, putting the envelopes on the table. "I got behind on my ch.o.r.es. I would have made your sandwich."

Tim shrugged. "Make one for yourself," he said. "And perhaps for Lila."

Zane shook his head, eyeing the mail. "She'll probably sleep for a while." The return address on the top envelope was from Lila's surgeon. More bills.

"And I'm not hungry," Rose said, heading for the bas.e.m.e.nt.

Tim shook his head. "I can't figure out these girls, not for the life of me. I'm hoping maybe Beth can." He smiled and then led the two of them in a silent prayer.

Zane bowed his head and prayed for Lila and for wisdom and that G.o.d would provide a way to pay her medical bills. And that he'd be able to contain his frustration.

After finis.h.i.+ng his sandwich, Zane headed back through the field. First, he stopped by his parents' and left a message for the lawyer, saying he'd be coming without Lila.

Next he went to the little house. It seemed so empty. He'd moved the single bed up to the Bobbli's room and pushed the recliner back to the far corner. Mom had returned Lila's wheelchair the day after the fixator had been removed. He'd need to look for a sofa soon, probably at a secondhand store. Buying the buggy had wiped out his savings.

He'd slept upstairs in their bedroom the night before, but he'd tossed and turned all night. He'd rather stay at his parents' house, but he understood Gideon's concern about relying too much on Englisch ways. And it made more sense for him to stay in the little house than go back to Gideon and Monika's Dawdi Haus.

He headed to the bathroom and picked up the tape measure off the toilet seat. The downstairs bathroom had been functional for almost two months now, but he needed more molding to finish the trim work. He hoped Trevor would take him to the lumberyard on their way home from Lancaster. He quickly measured the s.p.a.ces along the floorboards, committing the numbers to memory.

Then he returned to the living room and wandered up the stairs, running his hand up the smooth railing that he'd worked so hard to fas.h.i.+on, taking each step slowly. The sun must have been trying to poke through the storm clouds gathering on the horizon because a shaft of light streamed through the landing window. He started toward his room-his and Lila's-but then stopped and turned toward the closed door.

He opened it slowly. He'd found the pale yellow curtains at a secondhand store. And the crib and bureau. The single bed had come from his parents' house, but he'd bought the platform rocking chair new. The quilt hanging over the back was one that the women at Lila's grandmother's quilt shop had sent for him to give away in Afghanistan. This one had ended up in his trunk and was sent back home after he was injured. He liked the fact that his and Lila's Bobbli would have it someday.

He closed the door. At least Lila hadn't seen the room and didn't know he'd furnished it. He'd box up everything except the twin bed. Maybe after they were married, Trudy would want to spend the night sometimes. Or maybe Simon when he came home from Iraq.

He stopped on the landing, looking over to his parents' house as Trevor drove up Juneberry Lane. Zane headed back down the stairs, out the door, and around the barn. Trevor sat in his car, texting on his phone. As Zane approached he looked up, waved, and rolled down the window. "Ready?"

Zane nodded and climbed in on the pa.s.senger side. "How was work?"

"Short." Trevor smiled and slipped his phone into his jacket, backed his car around, and headed back up Juneberry Lane to the highway.

A half hour later Trevor pulled into the parking lot of the Veterans Center. Zane had been visiting the facility since he was a boy, after his dad started working there as a technology support specialist not long after he was discharged from the Army. When Zane was a soldier, he visited the place a few times, including when he was home on furlough from Afghanistan, but he hadn't stopped by since. Every once in a while Dad would tell him about a group that was being held that he thought might interest Zane. His only remaining connection to the Army was his dad and his relations.h.i.+p with Charlie-and Trevor, of course, but Zane expected he would be leaving soon. He didn't keep in touch with any of his fellow soldiers-except Casey, and that was through Simon. It had been a fluke that Trevor had written him and then shown up. They hadn't been in touch since Zane gave up his phone.

"Want to come in?" Zane asked. "You can wait in Dad's office after I head across the street to the attorney's."

Trevor shook his head. "I'll wait here."

Zane stepped into the building, said h.e.l.lo to the receptionist, and then headed back to his dad's office. Dad was on the phone but when he hung up he said, "Brad is expecting you."

"Thanks," Zane said. He'd met Brad Garrett one time before.

"What did Tim say about you talking with a lawyer?"

Zane's face grew warm.

Dad caught on pretty quickly. "You didn't say anything to him?"

"Not yet." Zane should have earlier that day, but it didn't seem to be the right time. "I will, depending on what Brad says."

Zane told his dad good-bye and made his way across the street and up the steps to the brick building, pus.h.i.+ng open the heavy door. Then he headed up the staircase, stopped at the first door, and knocked.

Finally, someone called out, "Come in."

Zane opened the door to the small office. Behind a desk stacked with files sat the lawyer, his reading gla.s.ses perched on the end of his nose. He took them off and stood as Zane entered.

"Ah," he said. "It's good to see you." He nodded toward Zane and then stared for a moment. "Your father told me you'd converted." The man's gray eyes twinkled. "For a girl, I heard."

Zane smiled. "Is that what Dad said?"

The man c.o.c.ked his head. "Well, maybe not in so many words."

"It's a little more complex than that," Zane said, although chances were he never would have joined if he didn't love Lila. He wasn't entirely sure though.

Zane continued, "But she's the girl I came to talk with you about. She was in a bad accident, almost two months ago."

Brad nodded. Dad had probably explained what had happened. Zane went ahead and told him the story from the beginning, just so he'd have all the details straight. The man took notes as Zane spoke. When Zane finished, Brad asked, "How much are the medical bills?"

"I don't have the exact number. They keep trickling in. But at last count they were over a hundred and fifty thousand dollars."

"And how about lasting damage? What's the long-term prognosis?"

He explained that Lila had just started doing PT. "We'll have a better idea as far as her mobility in time," he said. "Right now she's walking with crutches." Then he took a deep breath and said, "She saw a gynecologist today. Both ovaries have been compromised by scar tissue, one worse than the other. If she can get pregnant, she'll probably have to be on bed rest and then have a C-section."

"No children so far?"

Zane nodded. "We were planning to marry-" he exhaled-"last month. But we had to postpone it because of the accident."

"It sounds like a clear-cut case. Why is the insurance company denying payment?"

"Because the driver of the SUV says Lila swerved in front of him-and he said that in the 9-1-1 call."

"Did she?"

Zane shook his head. "At first she said she didn't. Now, I think because of the conflict around all of this, she's questioning what she remembers. She's afraid that she might not remember the last seconds before the accident correctly, but I think the insurance agent planted that idea." Zane leaned forward. "She's a good buggy driver. Cautious. Firm with the horse. Lots of experience. By the time she was twelve she was driving her younger siblings to school every day. But she expects the best of people, and I don't think she can fathom that someone would lie about this sort of thing."

Brad pushed back in his chair. "Why do you think this person would lie?"

Zane shrugged. "Because he doesn't want his insurance rates to go up? Because he doesn't think an Amish person would sue him?"

The man nodded as he spoke. "Or maybe he's about ready to lose his insurance. Have you Googled him? To see if he's been in other accidents."

Zane shook his head.

"What's his name?"

"Donald Addison," Zane said. "I'd say he was in his thirties."

"You've met him?"

"No, but I saw him at the accident site. The agent called him Mr. Addison, but I remember him being called Donald when I saw him. It's one of those things that stuck in my head." Actually, every detail of that day was stuck in his head.

Brad turned to his keyboard and began typing. "We'll see what we can do." He read the screen for a moment and then said, "Here's a Donald Addison. His address is listed as in Ephrata. He's thirty-seven . . . and he was in an accident last January where a child was injured." He looked up. "What was the date of Lila's accident?"

"September seventeenth."

"All right," the man said. "So that would be two bad accidents pretty close together." Brad kept his eyes on the screen. "Here's another one, just over three years ago." He turned toward Zane. "As far as his saying she'd pulled out in front of him in the 9-1-1 call, well, that just indicates he thinks on his feet. And the stakes were certainly high enough for him to come up with a quick lie." Brad steepled his fingers. "So why would Lila want to sue? When the Amish don't."

"They usually don't," Zane clarified. "Sometimes they do."

The man smiled, just a little. "Really?"

"I heard of a case in Indiana." Zane's face grew warm. It was actually the only case he'd ever heard of where an Amish person sued after a traffic accident. "I don't know that she would sue. In fact, she very well might not. But I don't think she understands how much the bills are going to add up to. Or that the driver could be lying about what happened to avoid responsibility."

"But it will be up to her to make a decision on this," Brad said. "Right?"

Zane nodded. He knew that.

"And you're Amish too."

Zane nodded again. "That's right."

"But you think suing would be the right thing to do?"

"Maybe," Zane said. "At this point I just want to explore our options." He cleared his throat. "I mean her options."

On the way home, once they were out of Lancaster, Zane asked Trevor if he would take him by the lumberyard. "I need some more molding to finish the bathroom."

"It won't fit in my car," Trevor responded.

Zane kept his eyes on a farmer harvesting silage. "I'll get Reuben to cut it."

Trevor nodded but didn't say any more. When they reached the lumberyard, he parked in the middle of the lot, even though there wasn't another car, truck, or buggy in sight. When he didn't turn off the motor, Zane climbed out and walked by himself toward the building.

Reuben stood at the counter doing paper work. It took him a long moment to look up and acknowledge Zane.

Finally he said, "Oh, h.e.l.lo there."

Zane teased. "Absorbed in your work?"

"Jah." Reuben smiled. "A bit, I guess. What can I do for you?"

"I need some molding cut."

Reuben closed his notebook and followed Zane to the molding section.

"I thought you were done with your house," Reuben said.

"Oh, you know how it goes. There's always that last bit that gets put off. I'd stopped noticing it-until this morning." Zane picked out the molding and followed Reuben back to the saw.

Reuben donned his protective eyewear, Zane gave him the measurements, and Reuben quickly made the cuts, sending up quick puffs of sawdust.

In another couple of minutes they were back in the front, where Reuben rang up the purchase. As Zane counted his money, Reuben looked out into the lot and asked, "Why didn't Trevor come in?"

Zane shrugged. He wanted to tell Reuben how odd everyone was acting. Rose. Lila. Trevor. But he didn't dare.

He could tell him about one thing though. "Do you have an extra minute?" he asked.

Reuben smiled warily. "It's not like I'm flooded with business right now."

Zane told him about the driver saying Lila pulled out in front of him, and that his insurance company was now claiming they weren't responsible for any of the medical bills.

"Didn't Lila end up in the ditch?" Reuben asked.

Zane nodded.

"Wouldn't she have ended up in the road if she'd pulled in front of him? The front of the buggy would have been pointed to the south, not the north."

"But she could have pulled in front of him and then corrected herself."

"Possibly," Reuben said. "Check to see if there are any skid marks at the scene of the accident. A copy of the police report would help-hopefully they took measurements where the bulk of the buggy ended up. And where Lila landed." He took his hat off and rubbed his hand through his hair. "The sheriff comes in here pretty often. I could ask him about it."

Zane nodded. "Denki, Reuben. I really appreciate it."

"Any time," he answered. "And would you do me a favor?"

"Sure. Anything."

"Tell Rose h.e.l.lo." Reuben put his hat back on. His voice sounded a little raw. "And that I miss her."

"Will do." Zane grabbed the molding from the counter. "See you soon," he said. As he hurried across the parking lot, the rain began to fall. It was cold enough that Zane was sure it would soon turn to snow.

When Zane approached the car, Trevor was texting on his phone again. "What's up?" Zane asked as he settled into the pa.s.senger seat.

"It's Sierra," Trevor said.