your probation? Any noncompliance could result in the reinstatement of the full one-year jail sentence.”
She tried to sort things out, but her brain refused to cooperate. “Do you mean I don’t have to return to my cell?” She croaked like a frog.
“That is correct. Today’s proceedings will be transcribed and you will receive a copy outlining the terms of your probation in the mail. On the paper you’ll find the name and address of the Wayne County Probation Department. You must register by the date listed on the sheet to be assigned an officer to whom you’ll report.” He placed her file on the left-hand pile and was already reaching for another file on his right.
“Do you mean I can continue helping to deliver babies?”
The frosty expression he leveled over his wire-rimmed glasses did not coincide with the day’s mild weather. “Help to deliver, Mrs. Graber. ‘Help’ being the important word in that sentence. Under no circumstances are you to deliver a baby on your own. You are to wait until medical personnel arrive before entering a patient’s room. If no help is available, 9-1-1 is your sole option. And, of course, you are never to handle pharmaceuticals during any medical procedure again. Have I made myself perfectly clear about that?” He leaned forward in his chair, his eyes capable of boring holes through steel walls.
“Yes, Your Honor, I understand. I don’t intend to ever break the law again.” She had said that she understood, but when she turned around and gazed over the sea of friendly faces, she wasn’t so sure. Will I be allowed to walk out of the courtroom with Daniel? Do I have to wait until the court session concludes and everyone’s case is heard? Should I return to my cell to clean out my meager possessions and say goodbye to Rachelle?
Like a child afraid of the dark, Abby took a few steps as though walking in her sleep. Then her eyes met and held her ehemann’s. He was grinning so broadly, his face would probably be sore tomorrow.
“Come, Abby.” His beckoning wave broke her paralysis.
“You can join him, Mrs. Graber,” Mr. Blake said, prodding her with his shoulder. “A deputy will speak to you in the hallway about receiving your personal property.”
His nudge galvanized her to action. She crossed the short distance to Daniel’s waiting arms. He enveloped her and drew her tightly against his chest as though someone might try to pry her loose. Hands reached out to slap her back or squeeze her arm. One well-wisher patted her head as though she were a young child. Cradled against Daniel’s crisply pressed shirt, she heard welcoming greetings in both English and Deutsch.
“All right, folks, take your celebration out to the hallway. We have other cases still to hear. Bailiff, clear those people out of my courtroom.” Yet the judge’s voice had softened considerably when he delivered his final pronouncement in the case of Abigail Graber versus the State of Ohio.
The Grabers, their district members, and their English friends couldn’t comply fast enough. Abby was caught up in the tide that moved through the doorway, down the steps, and then spilled onto the street. All around her she heard words of encouragement and support. The Amish spoke in Deutsch so reporters couldn’t write down what they said. Daniel did his best to shelter her from some rather zealous newspaper people.
“What do you think about Judge O’Neil’s ruling?” one man asked.
“Are you ready to reveal who supplied the anti-hemorrhage drug, Abby?” A young woman in a short suit pushed a microphone toward her face.
“Are you anxious to get home, Mrs. Graber? What do you think you will do first?” This particular question from a petite redhead she chose to answer. She’d thought about nothing else since the meeting with her lawyer. “I believe I’ll close my eyes and thank God for His grace, and then I’ll rock in the porch swing with my children.”
Daniel hustled them through the crowd to a van idling across the street. When he rolled back the door, Abby saw her father and mother already inside. She climbed in, followed by her husband and several other neighbors. The van’s driver swung the door closed, blocking out more inane questions from the media. As he tried to shoo them away, Abby peered into her daed’s face. The ordeal seemed to have aged him a decade. “Welcome back to us, daughter. Your mamm and I have been worried about you.” He lifted his arms,