Chapter 22
Deborah had tossed and turned all night. She might as well have stayed at the hospital since she wasn't going to get any sleep anyway. Of course she hadn't known that beforehand, but she should have figured. After visiting Christian last night, she and Peter had informed her parents about the accident. Mamm was presently at the hospital waiting for Hannah to awaken.
She hadn't told her folks about Christian's state of mind or what he'd said about Hannah and Samuel. Deborah knew she should first talk to Hannah and find out what actually happened between her, Samuel, and Christian. If what Christian said was indeed true, she couldn't blame him for being upset.
Peter agreed to go and talk with the bishop today. They'd been too exhausted, both physically and emotionally, to visit him last night. Deborah also realized that Peter needed time to grieve his brother’s death. She couldn't imagine what it would be like losing one of her sisters, especially Hannah. Samuel and Peter had been pretty close in the past, so she knew he must be reeling inside although superficially he appeared strong.
As Deborah now entered Hannah's hospital room, she shared a sympathetic look with Mamm, who'd been sitting at Hannah's bedside. Mamm quietly motioned her out into the hallway.
“I'm worried about her, Deb. She's been awake for two hours now and hasn't said more than two words to me,” Miriam said anxiously.
“What has she heard about the accident? Does she know about Samuel?” Deborah asked cautiously, not wanting to give too much away.
“She knows she was in a buggy accident, but has no idea about Samuel. It wonders me if she fully understands what happened. The doctors have her on pain medication, so that might have her a bit ferhoodled.”
“Jah, perhaps. Mamm, would you mind if I have some time alone with Hannah?” Deborah asked.
“Nee. I've been dying to go downstairs to the cafeteria, but I didn't want to leave Hannah's side. The doctors said that she'd be able to go home at the end of the week. Other than a slight concussion, a broken arm, and a few stitches, I'd say Hannah escaped pretty well,” Miriam said.
“Gott must have been looking out for her,” Deborah agreed.
Miriam Stolzfus left Deborah and headed down the hallway. Deborah took a deep breath, said a quick prayer, and then entered Hannah's room. Hannah didn't bother to turn her head when she came in, but instead stared at the wall in front of her. She appeared sallow and disheartened. Deborah debated whether to share the news of Samuel or not.
“Han, how are you doing?” Deb reached out and touched her sister's arm.
Hannah glanced at Deborah, then a lone tear trickled down her cheek.
Deborah walked over to Hannah and gave her an awkward hug, trying not to jostle her broken arm. “Shh...it'll be all right, Hannah,” she said, attempting to comfort her sister.
“Samuel? Where...where is he, Deborah?”
Like it or not, she was going to have to be honest with Hannah. She gave her sister a sympathetic look and her own eyes filled with tears. “I'm sorry, Hannah. Samuel is gone. Der Herr took him home.”
“He…he is dot? No!” Hannah shook her head. “He can't do that to me, Deborah. Haven't I paid enough for my sin already? Why did He have to take Samuel too? He was all I had left,” Hannah cried. “I wish He'd taken me. Why won't He let me die too?”
“What do you mean? What sin are you paying for? I don't understand, Hannah. Help me understand,” Deb pleaded.
“I killed Samuel's baby, Deborah,” Hannah cried miserably.
Deborah figured the medication Hannah was taking must be confusing her thoughts. “What do you mean? Samuel didn't have any children.”
Hannah shook her head adamantly. “Nobody knew about it. When Samuel left for Ohio, I was expecting his boppli. That's why I was so sick. I was scared, Deborah. I thought Samuel didn't love me. I didn't know what to do, so I went to clinic and...” Her voice trailed off, giving way to sobs.
“You were in the family way at eighteen?” Deborah couldn't believe the words she was hearing. How could Hannah, perfect Hannah, have gotten pregnant? And with Samuel's baby nonetheless. “Samuel didn't know?”
Hannah found her voice. “At the time, no. He found out yesterday.”
“And what about Christian?”
“He found out too.” Hannah brushed away another tear. “The doctor said that's the reason I keep losing bopplin. He said my cervix had been damaged during the procedure and had been preventing me from carrying the babies to term. Deborah, I can't ever have a boppli now. My life is ruined. Christian doesn't love me anymore. Now Samuel is gone forever. And I know as soon as everyone else finds out, they will despise me too. Why do I have to live, Deborah? I don't understand. Why won't God kill me? I just want to die.”
Tears streamed from Deborah's eyes as she pulled her sister close and held her tight. She couldn't fathom the emotional pain and guilt Hannah must be experiencing. No wonder her sister had been so depressed all the time. To have carried this secret around all those years must've been excruciating. And then to blame herself for everything bad that's happened since then. Deborah realized that her sister needed more help than what she could offer, but she attempted to console her anyway.
“No, Hannah. Please don't say that. We don't want you to die. We love you. You were young and desperate and you made a mistake. We all make mistakes, Hannah. All these things that have happened are not your fault. And regardless of how you may feel, God still loves you.”
“I can't do it anymore, Deborah. I can't go on.” Hannah's hopelessness gripped Deborah's heart.
Deborah realized that she was not going to be able to penetrate the darkness that surrounded Hannah's soul. She desperately needed help, professional spiritual help from someone who could relate to her circumstances. But Deborah had never personally known of anyone that had gone through an abortion. It wasn't exactly something that people shouted from the rooftops. No, Deborah suspected that there were probably many more women in Hannah's shoes than she realized. How many people – did she cross on a daily basis – carried around the silent pain of a secret abortion?