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on the bench until you can be quiet.”
    â€œIt was her!”
    â€œIt was Roy!”
    â€œIt was not. She started it!”
    With Lillian on her hip, Ruth grasped Roy firmly by his shoulder and steered him in the direction of the wooden bench by the back door. Barbara followed, shamefaced.
    As she went through the laundry room door, she could hear little Benjamin crying lustily from his playpen, and by the look of his tired, wet face, he had been crying steadily for some time.
    Setting Lillian on the couch, Ruth crunched a few saltine crackers beneath her feet as she made her way to Baby Benjy, as they’d come to call him. She had to kick a plastic bucket of toys aside before reaching to extract him from the confines of his playpen.
    What was most important here? She put Benjy in his baby swing and pressed the button to set it into motion as she mentally reviewed Lillian’s fall, wondering if she should be taken somewhere. The ER was the only service available if she had a serious injury at this time of the evening.
    Hadn’t she heard somewhere that if a child yells and cries, it’s not too serious? Or if a bump appears on the skull? Was that a myth? She could hear her mother saying that if the lump goes in but is not visible on the outside, it can be fatal.
    A stab of fear made her cringe, the reality of Lillian’s head injury looming ahead of her. She had fifty-seven dollars in her checking account. That was all. The ER would send a bill, and then there was the amount she would have to pay the driver she’d need to hire.
    She held Lillian and felt the lump, undecided. She looked up to find Roy and Barbara entering the kitchen, followed by Elmer and Esther, their eyes wide with concern.
    â€œIs she hurt seriously?”
    â€œIs she okay?”
    Ruth nodded, assuring them, but she was still unsure about whether Lillian should be seen by a doctor. The last thing she needed was another bill to pay, but her daughter’s health was her first priority, she knew.
    Oh, Ben.
    She held Lillian, and Esther reached for Benjamin, who was not settling down. Ruth maintained a calm appearance as she tried to think rationally while watching Lillian’s face, where the color slowly drained away until even her lips were alarmingly pale. What should she do?
    She decided to watch her for an hour, then take action. She put a cool washcloth on Lillian’s forehead and gave her a dropper filled with children’s grape flavored Tylenol. The generic brand at Walmart had been half the price, thank goodness. Lillian swallowed dutifully, sighed, whimpered, and lay very still against her mother’s breast.
    Don’t let them sleep. She could hear her old family doctor’s voice as clearly as if he was in the room. Lillian’s eyelids sank lower, and Ruth shifted her position to keep her awake.
    â€œLillian!”
    She began to cry.
    â€œElmer, go get Mamie. Please?”
    â€œAlright.”
    Instantly, he was out the door. Ruth was thankful for Elmer’s obedience and wanted to remember to tell him so.
    â€œEsther, would you please pick up toys? Roy, please get the broom and sweep up these crackers.”
    They both did her bidding quietly, with reverence for their injured sister worrying them into obedience. Barbara brought a light blanket, and Ruth smiled at her as she covered Lillian’s legs.
    When Lillian’s eyes began to close again, Ruth sat her up, saying, “Lillian!”
    She was immensely grateful to see her neighbor, Mamie Stoltzfus, wife of Ephraim, come through the front door with her youngest, Waynie, hanging haphazardly on her plump hip. His thin blond hair was matted, his nose running, his blue eyes alight with interest — a small replica of his mother.
    Mamie was what Ruth lovingly called “roly-poly.” She was a heavy woman, though tall, with thinning hair and bright blue eyes. She viewed the world through rosy lenses, an extension of her