No peace. No confidence. No assurance that she mattered much to God.
But then she thought about Charlie’s words that she was born to be a nurse. Maybe God had been guiding her, all along, even though she was oblivious to it. A memorized Bible verse from years of Sunday school popped into her head: “If we are faithless, he remains faithful, for he cannot disown himself.”
God doesn’t give up onus.
Evie glanced down the row where Fern had disappeared. She needed to talk to someone about this. Maybe Fern. She squinted. Probably not. Fern wasn’t exactly the type who invited long heart-to-heart chats. Maybe she just needed more time to think. Either way, she knew one thing for sure: She couldn’t keep living as half a Christian. If she was going to have faith, it had to be the real thing, or it wasn’t worth much at all.
Annie had just locked up for the day and was turning off the light in the exam room when frantic banging rattled the front door, followed by someone shouting for help.
She rushed over and opened the door to find Tina Smucker, barely holding up her husband Abe, who looked ghostly pale and drenched in sweat.
“Annie, help! It’s Abe!” Tina’s voice wobbled with fear.
“Come in!” Annie helped get Abe into a chair in the waiting room. Then she sprinted to the door leading downstairs, flung it open, and cupped her hands around her mouth. “Charlie!”
Charlie had been in the garden level, studying in the small office, and barreled up the stairs when he heard Annie’s shout, sandwich in his hand. His eyes went wide at the sight of Abe.He dropped the sandwich and rushed over, immediately taking Abe’s pulse. “Where’s Dok?”
“Dok and Wren left on a house call.”
“Evie?”
“She left for Windmill Farm over an hour ago.”
A look of panic flitted through Charlie’s eyes. “Should I call for an ambulance? This must be, uh ... a cardiac event, right? Should I get nitroglycerin? Or aspirin?”
Annie’s gaze swept over Abe, taking in his flushed face and the sweat rolling down his cheeks, the wisps of straw in his beard. “Tina, what’s he been doing all day?”
“He’s been out in the fields, cutting hay,” Tina said, her voice laced with concern.
Annie turned to Charlie. “I think it’s heat exhaustion.”
“Heat exhaustion?” Charlie echoed, half question, half statement, as though testing out the words.
“Abe needs cooling down. He needs water.” Annie went to the bathroom and grabbed some cloths, soaking them with cool water, then filled a glass and brought it to Abe. While he sipped the water, she pressed the cold cloths on Abe’s neck and wrists, her movements deliberately calm.
Charlie ran a hand over his chin, looking increasingly nervous. “Annie,” he said, “are you sure he’s just overheated?”
“Pretty sure. We’ll know soon.” A minute later, Annie smiled. “See? He’s already starting to look better.” Abe’s face had lost that bright red color.
“Shouldn’t we, uh, be doing ... more? Something preventative?” Charlie glanced at Abe, then at Annie, still holding his breath like he expected Abe to keel right over.
Tina let out a relieved sigh. She could see that Abe was improving. Annie could see it. Why didn’t Charlie? It was as if he wasn’t trusting his own eyes.
It wasn’t long before Abe felt well enough to go home. Charlie helped him out to the buggy. After Tina and Abe drove off,Charlie searched out Annie. She was putting the used wet cloths in a laundry bin to wash. “You did really well there, Annie. Calm, cool, collected.”
“Thanks.” She dipped her head, a little embarrassed by the praise.
“What tipped you off to heat exhaustion?”
It seemed so obvious. “The wisps of straw in his beard.”
Charlie looked at her in amazement. “For real? That’s all?”
She rattled off the other things she’d noticed: It had been a very hot day. Abe wasn’t clutching his chest. His face was bright red, but his skin was cold and clammy. He was sweating profusely, like his body was trying to cool down. “EMT training teaches us to assess a situation before taking action.”
He shook his head, clearly impressed. “Is this all just second nature for you? Staying so calm?”
“Well, EMT training teaches us to stay calm, in every situation. Even as an EMT enters an emergency scene, we’re told to not run but to walk in, to keep our movements slow and deliberate.” She glanced at him. “Wasn’t that what you were taught to do in medical school?”
Charlie coughed a laugh. “Not at all. What was taught was to be the fastest draw in class.” He whipped out his hands and pointed them like guns. “Sorry.” He dropped his hands. “Totally inappropriate thing to say to a pacifist. What I meant was, we were encouraged to make a fast, decisive diagnosis.”
“Even if it’s wrong?”
He laughed. “Thankfully, I could usually rely on someone else to keep me from shooting from the hip.” He smacked his forehead. “Sorry! I did it again.”
Annie had to smile at him. Charlie could be funny. She enjoyed being around him, even if he did need a big dose of confidence if he was ever going to win over Dok. She could tell Dok didn’t have a lot of faith in him. Whenever she wanted a second opinion on a patient, she always asked Wren first.Charlie came second, kind of a polite ask. Like “oh, you’re here too.”
As Annie scootered home, she thought about what she’d told Charlie about EMT training. She wondered if she’d ever get to put her training into action, to walk in calmly on an emergency scene, to assess a situation before acting. Would she ever be an EMT? The very thought made her feel like weeping.
