Free Stranger's Gift by Anna Schmidt Page B

regulation sling to replace Hester’s temporary fix. “You want to keep it elevated,” the medic had instructed. Then he’d patted John on the shoulder and turned to address the next problem.
    â€œNow what?” John said aloud to himself as he looked around for some idea of how he might get back to his place.
    â€œHow are you feeling,
Herr
Steiner?”
    John turned to find Hester standing next to him. She shielded herself from the steady drizzle with an umbrella, so it was hard to see her features. Still, he could not help but take note of the fact that she was tall enough to meet him nearly eye-to-eye. Memory told him those eyes were blue, although he had no idea why that detail had registered with him. Certainly with everything else he’d had to deal with, the color of a plain woman’s eyes should be the least of his concerns. “I’ll be fine,” he muttered and turned his attention back to his surroundings as he tried to figure out his next move.
    â€œI thought you might want to call your aunt in Washington.” Hester lifted the umbrella higher to cover both of them and handed him a cell phone. “Or I could do it for you if you like. I mean, I appreciate that your people …”
    â€œLook, let’s get one thing straight. I am no longer Amish, okay?”
    â€œYou may have chosen to leave the community, Herr Steiner, but …”
    â€œI did not
choose
anything, starting with being born into an Amish community. That was my mother’s choice.”
    â€œAnd your father’s,” she said, clearly unruffled by his attitude. “I’ll leave you to make your call, then.” She crossed the street and slipped under the canopy that protected the tables where the other women were working.
    â€œHold on a minute.” John hated asking anyone for anything, especially a woman, especially
this
woman.
    She tilted the umbrella to one side and waited for him to catch up to her. But just before he reached her, he faltered and for one awful moment feared once again that he might pass out. “Let me get you something to drink,” she said, steadying him by placing her arm around his shoulders and shielding him with the umbrella. “When was the last time you ate an actual meal?”
    â€œYesterday sometime. Maybe the day before,” he admitted, trying to remember the meal. Supper, he thought. He recalled a plate of cheese and fruit. Last night. It seemed like forever ago.
    â€œCome with me,” Hester said and steered him across the shopping center’s parking lot. A few yards away she pointed to an empty rocking chair in a row of similar Amish-made bentwood rockers that lined the porch of a restaurant touting H OMEMADE P IE on the large sign that was now listing to one side. “Sit. I’ll be right back.”
    She handed him a bottle of water and went inside the restaurant. John guzzled and once it was gone wished he had more. His hand started to shake uncontrollably, and he felt suddenly light-headed.
    â€œHere.”
    She was back and handing him a paper plate stacked with bread, slices of sandwich meat, cheese, a banana, and chips. “Start with the banana,” she urged, even as John crammed chips into his mouth. She pulled a bottled sports drink from the ever-present cloth satchel. “Drink this. You need the potassium, and I expect your system needs some electrolytes as well.”
    â€œArlen mentioned that you’re a nurse. What kind?”
    â€œA trained one,” she snapped, then seemed to mentally count to ten, softened her voice, and added, “Although there are some things you just pick up along the way.” She handed him the sports drink, then sank down in the chair next to him. “As soon as you’ve eaten, if you could make that call…I need to return the phone.”
    â€œTo?”
    She nodded toward a man in a T-shirt and jeans and a battered Boston Red Sox baseball cap.