Dok leaned forward and gently knocked her forehead on the desk a few times. That left her with ... Charlie.
After work, Annie sat nervously in Dok’s office, flanked by Charlie and Wren. This morning, Charlie had administered a bunch of tests to Annie, supervised by Evie. Dok had asked if Annie minded her bringing in the residents to be part of this conversation. “Just to give them experience,” Dok said.
Annie said she didn’t mind, though she did. She minded Wren, mostly. Being around her made Annie feel as if she was witnessing a bullfight, minus the bull.
“All right, Annie,” Dok said, glancing at the patient chart on the computer. “The basic tests Charlie gave you all came back normal.”
Wren leaned forward, her brow knit in thought. “Perhaps we should consider more specialized testing? An MRI or CT scan could rule out any structural problems in the brain or inner ear.”
Annie’s hands fidgeted in her lap, and she felt her heart rate increase. “Is that necessary?” She couldn’t afford all those fancy tests.
Dok shot Annie a knowing look. “Wren is just making sure that nothing gets overlooked.” She glanced at Charlie, who’d been quiet. “What about you? Any theory that could point to a clear cause?”
Charlie looked up, seemingly surprised to be in the spotlight—not so much like he’d been caught daydreaming but as if he hadn’t expected to be asked for his opinion. “Well, I was thinking, maybe, could it be stress? Or anxiety?”
Annie’s mind started to race. “What could that mean?”
Wren’s voice broke into her thoughts. “It’s possible that your response could be psychosomatic.”
Annie’s anxiety ratcheted up a couple of notches.
“It’s possible,” Wren said, “deep down, there’s self-sabotage involved.”
“What?” Annie said. It came out like a squeak.
“Like, maybe you don’t believe you deserve to be happy. Maybe you’re looking for a reason to fail.” Wren folded her arms against her chest. “I could find you a therapist.”
Charlie gave Wren a look likeReally?
Wren lifted her hands in the air. “What?”
Dok raised her eyebrows. “Wren, let’s stay focused on practical ways to help Annie with this problem.”
“That’s exactly what I’m trying to do,” Wren said.
Charlie rolled his eyes. Then he turned to Annie to offer reassurance. “I think Wren is trying to say that there’s help to be had, Annie. Whatever the cause of this might be.”
“Not necessarily,” Wren said. “There’s all kinds of documented cases of permanent motion sickness.”
“We’re not at that point quite yet,” Dok said, frowning at Wren. “Annie, I’d like to send you to a friend of mine, Dr. Fitzgerald. He’s an ENT—ear, nose, and throat—and owes me a favor. He’ll be able to do more specific tests to find out exactly what’s causing the motion sickness. Then we can figure out how to solve this problem. It’ll just take time.”
But Annie was running out of time.
And, if Wren was right, she might already be just like her mother.
Dok had saved the end-of-day appointment for Annie, to go over the results of her tests, and wanted Wren and Charlie to sit in on it. That meant Evie could go home early, which was perfectly fine by her. The more space she could keep between her and Charlie—without making it too obvious—the better. Later that afternoon, just before supper, Evie joined Fern for a walk up to the orchard to check on the apples.
They strolled through rows of apple trees, the air rich with the scent of ripening fruit. The summer sun glinted off the apples hanging firm and green on the branches, with just a blush of red starting to show. “Needs a few more weeks,” Fern said casually, running her hand along the leaves before she darted away, leaving Evie to wander on her own.
Evie couldn’t help but smile as she watched Fern disappear down the row of trees. That woman always seemed to know when to stay and when to go, leaving her with just the right amount of company and solitude. And right now, Evie needed solitude. As much as she tried to push it away, David Stoltzfus’s words kept echoing in her mind:“Don’t be half a Christian!”
She sighed and bent down to pick up a fallen apple, rolling it between her palms. Half a Christian. Was that what she was? The thought gnawed at her. She’d spent her whole life going through the motions, following the rules, doing what was expected. Her parents had swept her up in their faith so fully, so completely, that she never really thought much about it. It was just ... there. Like the air she breathed. It wasn’t a choice; it was a given. Their faith had been so large, so overwhelming, that there wasn’t any room left for her to make her own decision about it.
Evie tossed the apple lightly in her hand before letting it drop back to the ground. She was starting to realize, with a bit of a sting, that maybe she had never truly decided anything for herself when it came to God.
She brushed her hands on her skirt and wandered farther into the orchard, feeling the quiet sturdiness of the trees around her.
David’s words had cut deep. The more she thought about them, the more she knew he had described her. Half a Christian, caught in the middle between faith and rules. She’d followed the “do unto others” bit to the letter, but when it cameto experiencing the blessings of faith—the peace, the assurance that God truly cared about her—she’d come up short. If she only believed halfway, she was missing out on everything that faith had to offer.
