Wild Horses (Sadie's Montana #1)(39)

When they finally reached the bed, Sadie sank onto the edge of it. She felt as if she had run a marathon, which they assured her she had.

After a bath, clean sheets, and a clean gown, she was exhausted. Hungry, too, although she was too shy to ask about breakfast. Maybe they allowed only juice or ice water.

A rumbling in the hallway and a jolly voice calling out made Sadie listen eagerly. She hoped it was some sort of food. Even a package of saltines would take that dull ache away from her stomach. She wondered if this was how the poor, starving children in Africa felt. Innocent victims of civil war, suffering and dying, so hungry.

Sadie grimaced, then turned her head to watch eagerly as a small, stout woman bustled into the room. Her head was covered with an aqua-colored cap that closely resembled what Mommy Yoder wore to take a shower if she didn’t want to wash her hair. The woman balanced a dish covered with a plastic lid.

“Breakfast!” she called out gaily.

Sweeter words I have never heard, Sadie thought, smiling to herself.

The woman hurried to Sadie’s bedside, pulled up the tray on wheels, and plunked down the dish.

“There you go. Piping hot. Have a wonderful day!” She bustled back out, the aqua shower cap bobbing with each step.

Sadie lifted her right hand quickly, eager to lift the lid and peek underneath. Stopping, she looked at the bandage in dismay. But then she shrugged. Food could be conveyed to your mouth with your left hand if that was what needed to be done.

Removing the plastic lid was relatively easy, but unwrapping the utensils from the napkin was not.

The food looked all right—scrambled eggs, a few pieces of bacon, and an orange slice arranged on dark, curly lettuce—a bit wilted, but still inviting. Buttered wedges of whole wheat toast, juice, and milk completed the meal.

She lifted a slice of toast, eating half of it in one big bite.

Mmmm. Delicious.

She remembered to bow her head and thank God for the buttered toast in a silent prayer of gratitude. The fact that she was alive and able to eat brought tears of gratefulness—and completely renewed thanks.

The toast was a bit squishy and thin. Sort of flat. It was not the thick, heavy, whole wheat toast her mother made in the broiler in the gas oven at home Reuben told her once that the cheap, whole wheat bread they bought in the store in town wasn’t one bit whole wheat. It had artificial coloring so it looked like whole wheat. It was the same as white bread, but because it was the color of whole wheat, people felt they made a healthy choice.

He probably learned that around the same time he learned about the earth being tilted and spinning as fast as it could go, causing the tide to go in and out.

Sadie realized that she had not known these things before he told her, but she would never, ever tell him—that little know-it-all.

Quite suddenly, then, she was overcome with love for Reuben, for that sweet little troublemaker. Oh, she hoped he would be allowed into the hospital to see her.

She was filled with light, a joyous light of love for her family. She could hardly wait to see all of them! Mam, Dat, her dear sisters—everyone—even annoying Anna who always stuck up for Reuben.

Quite a bit of the scrambled eggs landed on the tray or in her lap, but she could eat enough to feel comfortable. The orange juice created a certain nausea—like a summer virus when you knew it was not going to be a good day for your stomach—so she pushed the tray away and lay back on the pillow, turning her head and closing her eyes.

Her head felt as if it was twice its normal size, but she supposed that was because of the bandage around it. I hope I’ll be normal again soon, she thought.

And then the room was filled with her family. All of them.

Dat was there, and Mam. They cried, hugged her carefully, held her hand, exclaimed quietly, talked in their Dutch dialect, and asked questions. Tears streamed down Sadie’s face as she nodded or shook her head. She smiled in between the tears and was grateful.

Reuben hung back, clearly not wanting to be there. Sadie called out his name. The rest of the family stood aside, Mam prodded his shoulder, and he came reluctantly to stand by her bed—self-conscious and obviously uncomfortable.

“Reuben!”

“Hey, Sadie.”

“What do you have in your hand?”

Instantly, a wrapped package was thrust into her lap.

“Here.”

“A package! Thank you, Reuben!”

She struggled with her left hand, trying to undo the Scotch tape, until he stepped forward saying, “I’ll do it.”

Sadie peered into the cardboard box, then gasped.

“Nevaeh! My… The horse! Reuben, where in the world did you get a picture of Nevaeh?”

“Jim.”

“Jim? He gave this to you?”

Reuben nodded.

“I made the frame.”

“It’s gorgeous, Reuben!”

Anna stepped up proudly.

“I sanded and varnished it. Three coats. Dat said to do it that way.”

Sadie looked questioningly at her father and was rewarded with a look of such tenderness, so much love, it took her breath away. Dat never expressed his feelings in such a way. He shuffled uncomfortably.

“You… I just thought you may as well bring the horse home if he’s yours.”

“Oh, Dat!”

That was all Sadie could say, but it was enough.

Rebekah cried, grabbed a few tissues, and hid her face in the white softness she held to her nose. Leah smiled a crooked smile, then gave in and cried with Rebekah.