Rebecca thrashed weakly. “Let me go. I want my daed.”

Just as Nora disappeared onto the landing, she spoke one brief sentence in German.

Tessa looked to Jonas. “What did she say?”

His eyes were dull. His shoulders slumped. “She told me to summon the elders.”

She’d never seen him look defeated. Fighting achy despair that knotted her stomach, she closed the front door and sagged against it. “Rebecca needs a doctor. She needs real medicine.”

“My sister will never allow it.” He shuffled to the base of the stairs and lifted his gaze to the darkness. “She won’t leave this house.”

“But she has to!” As tears stung the backs of her eyes, she slammed her shoulders against the door. “If only doctors still made house calls. If only…” Her breath caught in her chest. If only. She hung her head. The realization of what exactly she had to do soured her stomach until she thought she might be sick. If only… If only she had another choice. She wracked her brain but could think of none. The elders might be well-intentioned, but Rebecca needed modern medicine. If only… If only she wasn’t trapped.

She peeled herself off the door and drew up behind Jonas. She wanted so badly to wrap her arms around his waist and lay her cheek between his shoulders. But given what she was about to propose, she couldn’t. Not now. Now, only one option remained: the last thing she wanted to do and the only thing she could do.

“Jonas. Rebecca needs”—she inhaled deeply—“a doctor.” And with that final word, she made clear what she intended. Jonas tightened his hold on the banister until she thought it would splinter. Would he demand she leave, too?

He gave a long exhale and dropped his chin to his chest. “Call him.”

He couldn’t even look at her—might never do so again. “Where’s the community phone?”

****

“No, I need to talk to Dr. Bruce.” With every stinging breath, Tessa’s chest heaved. She gripped the handset and clamped her bottom lip. Running full out, she’d still taken fifteen minutes to reach the phone.

“Dr. Miller is the attending on call,” the page operator repeated in a clipped tone.

“I don’t want Dr. Miller!” She squeezed shut her eyes and saw flickering, white streaks like her own private aurora borealis. Snapping would get her nowhere. She rubbed a palm down her thigh and leveled her tone. “I don’t mean to be rude. I’m in the middle of an emergency.”

“Did you call 9-1-1?”

“I can’t call 9-1-1. Please—I don’t have time to explain, but I need Dr. Bruce. Please page him.”

The operator huffed a sigh. “I’ll try. What’s the callback number?”