“Does it still work?”
“Neh. I’ll stick it in a bowl of dry rice. That sometimes helps.”
“You can use the business phone if you need to make any personal calls.”
“Denki, Arden,” she said and when she placed her hand on his arm and held his gaze, he had the feeling she wasn’t just talking about the phone.
* * *
As she dabbed white paint on the trim of the coop, Rachel tried to sort out her feelings about everything that had happened so far that day. She wished she could talk to Meg, but she didn’t want to tie up the business phone. Besides, her roommate might tease her about the jumble of feelings she was experiencing concerning Arden, and Rachel didn’t want to joke about it, even in good fun.
She was surprised at herself for confiding in Arden about why she went Englisch. Most of the Amish people she’d discussed the subject with had a tendency to tell her why she wanted to leave—that was, because of hochmut or some other sin—but Arden had truly listened to her explanation, and he didn’t seem to judge her for it. He even said I was a gut nurse. Toby never would have said that—Toby would have criticized her for being confounded by what was triggering Oneita’s condition.
As much as she appreciated Arden’s kind words, what Rachel found most commendable was how he’d responded to Colin upbraiding him. Without rudeness or rancor, he’d firmly called out Colin’s hypocrisy. She was especially touched Arden had made a point to defend Rachel as well as himself against Colin’s unfair condemnation.
Colin had appeared so appalled Rachel might have pitied him, had he not threatened to tell Ivan on Arden, as if Arden were a child. How Arden managed to keep his temper Rachel didn’t know, but his response inspired her to be civil, too. How insulting of Colin to insinuate Arden was irresponsible for closing the shop, she thought. Rachel had witnessed firsthand how much Arden was doing for the business, and this morning she’d seen the burden he was carrying for his mother’s health, too. He’s got so much weight on his shoulders.
Thinking of Arden’s shoulders made her pulse skitter, and she set down her paintbrush.
“You dizzy?” Arden called. Had he been watching her?
“A little. I’m going to take my lunch break now, okay?”
“Jah. Me, too.”
After what they’d been through that morning, it seemed fitting to suggest they eat together, but Rachel resisted the impulse. Her emotions were running high; it was better to put a little distance between Arden and herself until she’d had a good night’s sleep. Besides, she intended to spend her break scrubbing the floors. Ivan’s coming home soon. If Colin tells him I’ve done nothing but made messes, a spotless haus will help prove him wrong.
* * *
Arden didn’t make it home until nine o’clock on Friday, and after checking with Grace to be sure his sleeping mother hadn’t had any more issues with her skin, he took a shower and went to bed. Lying there, he reflected on how Rachel reminded him of Ivan; not only was she finicky about the quality of her painting, but she was discreet like he was, too. She’d promised Arden she wouldn’t bring up their altercation with Colin when she visited Ivan that evening.
“We have nothing to hide,” she’d said. “But I’d prefer Ivan didn’t know about the tension between Colin and me.”
“Between Colin and me, too. I shouldn’t have responded to him in anger.”
“Are you narrish? You may have felt angry—and justifiably so—but your response wasn’t angry. It was truthful and direct. It was very well said, Arden. And you gave him every opportunity to reciprocate with grace.”
It was very well said. Arden had never received that compliment before, and he played it over and over in his mind before his thoughts turned to why Rachel had said she’d left the Amish. Despite the rumors, it didn’t seem her intention in leaving was to gain knowledge so she could promote herself; she’d left because the Englisch gave her an opportunity to serve others in a way she couldn’t serve them if she remained in Serenity Ridge. Her decision seemed neither rash nor rebellious—she’d waffled about it for years, primarily because she preferred the Amish lifestyle.
Yet ultimately she did choose to go Englisch, Arden reminded himself. And she is going back, so I’d better not get too accustomed to her company, as pleasant as it’s turning out to be.
* * *
Although Arden was putting in a full day’s work on Saturday, Rachel left the workshop at twelve to pick up Ivan from the hospital, since the staff had confirmed the previous evening he’d be discharged sometime in the afternoon. Arden suggested she take the business phone with her in the event an emergency arose.
“Don’t worry,” she razzed him. “I learned my lesson yesterday. I’m sticking to the main roads.”
“Even the main roads might be flooded. You’ll have Ivan with you, and...well, it seems wise to take the phone if case you need it.”
Rachel was puzzled by his suggestion, since the Amish relied on the Lord, not on technology, in times of emergency. I suppose he thinks since I’m not Amish, it’s not incongruent for me to carry a phone. It wasn’t, but somehow she didn’t want her status as an Englischer emphasized.
“Okay, but only because I’m expecting a call from my roommate.” Because the business phone didn’t have internet access, on Friday Rachel had used it to call Meg to ask her to periodically check her email account for a message from the university. Meg hadn’t answered so Rachel left a confidential message along with her email password.
When she arrived at the hospital, an aide was assisting Ivan with his clothing, so Rachel wandered outside and perched on a bench in the sunshine. As a balmy breeze played with the ends of her hair, Rachel watched doctors and nurses entering and exiting the building, their expressions mostly intense. She wondered if that’s how she appeared when she arrived for work. There were so many sick people in the world and so many loving family members and friends who worried about them. It often felt overwhelming, and today Rachel was grateful for the slower pace of caring for just one patient, her brother.
When she went back inside, she met one delay after the next in the processing of Ivan’s discharge paperwork, even though she’d arrived with his checkbook ready for him to pay the bill. Eventually everything was sorted out, and she brought the car around to pick Ivan up at the entrance. As she and an unfamiliar patient-care assistant helped him into the passenger seat, Ivan tottered, breathless from the brief exertion of standing.
“You sure you’re ready to leave? You can stay another night,” the assistant jested.
“Jah, I’m in gut hands. My schweschder is a nurse.”
Rachel might have been mistaken, but she thought she heard a trace of pride in his voice.
* * *
At four o’clock, the customer who ordered the coop came by with several buddies and a truck to transport it home. Afterward, Arden continued working on the shed that was due Monday. Although he’d made enough progress to be confident he’d finish it well before the scheduled pickup time, Arden puttered around the workshop, hoping to greet Ivan. If her brother was as weak as Rachel indicated, he might need help getting into the house.
By six o’clock when they hadn’t shown up, Arden began to worry. What if there is damage to Rachel’s car from yesterday and it’s acting up now? His stomach constricted with cramps, and he didn’t know if they were from nerves or hunger, but he was determined to stay until Rachel and Ivan arrived.
Unable to focus on work, he took a seat on the bench beneath the peach tree. It had bloomed early this year, and as he leaned against the trunk, inhaling its fragrance and listening to the bees buzzing within the pink blossoms overhead, he quietly prayed until calmness settled over him. Within minutes, Rachel’s car wound its way up the driveway. Another soaking rain on Friday afternoon had washed off most of the mud, and her car glinted in the late-day sun.
Arden lifted his hand. He
strode to them and opened the front passenger door as Rachel got out on the other side. He was surprised by how loosely Ivan’s clothes fit and how much paler he’d become since Arden had seen him last, but his humor was still robust. Grinning at him, Ivan asked, “You didn’t think I was coming back, did you?”
“I never doubted it for a second,” Arden said, a catch in his voice, because he had doubted it. He bent forward so Ivan could sling an arm around his shoulder for support as he rose into a standing position. Arden bolstered Ivan across the lawn at a snail’s pace. By the time they got to the porch, Ivan’s stamina was depleted.
“Let me rest here in the fresh air,” he requested, so Arden lowered him onto the porch swing and took a seat on the bench nearby.
“I made supp last night. You’ll stay for supper, won’t you, Arden?” Rachel asked.
“Supper? I thought Ivan and I would get back to work. There’s a shed we need to finish by Monday.”
“Oh, sure, now that my bruder is back you’re going to kick me out of the shop, aren’t you?”
“Of course not,” Arden objected. “After all, Ivan never brings me kaffi and sticky buns in the morning the way you do.”
“Jah, and I doubt he’d be as forbearing as I was if you ruined his paint job.”
“Neh, probably not, but he’s never propelled me into a mud puddle like you have.” Arden recognized they were teasing exaggeratedly for Ivan’s benefit, and Ivan seemed to enjoy the entertainment. It felt like a celebration to have him home. That his hospital bill was paid and Arden had nearly met all of their work deadlines added to the festivity.
“It sounds like you two have quite a few stories to tell me,” Ivan said. “I can’t say denki enough to both of you—” He coughed weakly.
“Then don’t try,” Rachel told him before disappearing into the house for a glass of water.
“She’s right. Or I’ll have to try to figure out a way to say denki for all the times you’ve helped me. And we both know how gut I am with words.” Usually Arden didn’t acknowledge his speaking difficulties, even in jest, but this evening he felt less self-conscious than ever before. Rachel reappeared with the water for Ivan and then went back into the house, telling them supper would be ready in a few minutes.
“How is your mamm?” Ivan questioned.
“She was struggling for a while. She experienced some new symptoms, which are already improving, thanks to your schweschder.”
“That’s gut.” Ivan closed his eyes and smiled as a breeze passed over the lawn, carrying the scent of peach blossoms and new grass.
They sat in comfortable silence until Rachel announced supper was ready. She stepped outside to steady the swing so Arden could assist her brother out of it. He used his shoulder to truss Ivan beneath one arm while Rachel did the same on the opposite side. The three of them were about to angle toward the door when Ivan said softly, “Well, look at that. I think my first visitor has arrived.”
* * *
Perplexed that someone could have come up the driveway without her hearing them and nervous it might have been Colin, Rachel followed the direction of Ivan’s eyes. In the gloaming she could just make out a form on the far periphery of the front lawn. A bear? An enormous deer?
“A moose!” Arden uttered in a hushed tone, and the great animal swung its head in their direction. For nearly a full minute, it kept utterly still before it turned and lumbered into the woods bordering the property.
“That was amazing. I’ve never seen a moose the whole time I’ve lived here,” Ivan said.
“Me, neither,” Rachel said. “I mean, when I lived here before. I wish my phone worked. I would have liked to take a photo to show to Meg. Maybe it’ll come back.”
“If he does, it’s schmaert to steer clear of him,” Arden said. “He might look docile, but moose are unpredictable. His antlers haven’t fully kumme in this year, but if he charged, he could kick or trample a person to death.”
After the trio squeezed through the door, Ivan said, “It must have been all the excitement, but I’m too bushed to eat. Arden, could you help me out? I’d like to go to bed, but I feel as unwieldy as that moose.”
While Arden was assisting her brother in the bedroom down the hall, Rachel filled two bowls with soup and placed a loaf of bread on the table and then poured the milk. When Arden reentered the room and seated himself opposite her, she felt strangely shy to be eating alone with him, even though they worked together side by side every day.
“I’ll say grace,” she offered, bowing her head. “Lord, denki for healing Ivan and bringing him home. And denki for bringing me home at this time, too.” Her voice quavered, so she paused a moment. “Please continue to heal Arden’s mamm and help her to get the care she needs. Soften my heart toward Colin and soften his heart to me and both of our hearts to You. Please strengthen us with this food, especially Arden, who needs endurance as he continues to labor so diligently in the workshop during Ivan’s recovery. Amen.” Rachel furtively dabbed a tear away before lifting her head.
Arden’s celestial-blue eyes searched hers. “Are you okay?” he asked. She was embarrassed he’d caught her tearing up until he added, “Your hand is bleeding.”
“Bleeding? Where?” She turned her hands palm up and then over again.
He leaned across the table and gently twisted her hand to indicate the space between her ring and middle fingers. “There.”
Rachel’s breath hitched. Instead of taking her hand from his to get a better look, she leaned forward to see the red stain. Although she instantly recognized what it was, she didn’t want to say. Not yet, not if saying it meant he withdrew his touch.
“See it?” Arden asked.
“It’s paint, from the coop,” she replied, embarrassed that she’d washed her hands countless times but clearly hadn’t done a good enough job. To her surprise, he allowed her fingers to linger in his.
“Oh. I guess it’s a gut thing I’m not the one taking care of Ivan, since I can’t even tell the difference between blood and paint,” Arden joked, giving her hand a little squeeze. Only then did he release it, sliding his arm back across the table and picking up his spoon.
* * *
The soup scalded Arden’s tongue and gave him something to distract him from the topsy-turvy way he was feeling. As he chugged down half a glass of milk, Rachel remarked how tired Ivan still seemed.
“Jah, he practically dozed off midsentence in his room.”
“I’ll have to wake him soon for his medication. And to check for a fever. They said to watch for that. A relapse of pneumonia can be even worse than the initial bout.”
“You’re going to need endurance, too.”
“What?”
“You prayed I’d have endurance. You’re going to need it, too,” Arden explained. “There were a lot of nurses in the hospital, but here you’re on your own.”
“Don’t you think I’m qualified to take care of him by myself?”
That wasn’t what he’d meant at all. Arden was surprised by the plea for reassurance in Rachel’s question; usually she seemed so confident. “I can’t think of anyone better qualified to take care of him. But he’s got a long road to recovery ahead, and you’re going to need help so you don’t wear yourself out.”
“I told Hadassah I’d wilkom her help, but I don’t think I can count on her. Joyce and Albert won’t return from Canada for a couple more weeks, according to Ivan.”
“In addition to Grace, there are others in the community who will be hallich to help.”
“I don’t know about that. I’m worried they’ll stay away because of my presence. Maybe Ivan would have been better off without me here. Maybe my coming here was a mistake.”
“Neh. It wasn’t a mistake.” Upon seeing the fragile vulnerability in Rachel’s eyes, Arden’s heart ballooned with compassion. “Trust me, the community will kumme to help.”
“In that case, I’d better keep dessert and tea on hand,” Rachel said, smiling once again.
“Does that mean we can’t have a slice of that pie over there?”
“Of course it doesn’t. And since Ivan has no appetite, you and I might as well have large pieces.”
Supping with Rachel after a hard day’s work, encouraging her and discussing Ivan’s care as if he were...not a child, but like a child, felt...well, it felt like how Arden always imagined it would feel if he had a family of his own. Which was probably why, half an hour later as he directed his horse toward home, Arden’s stomach was full, but he couldn’t shake the aching emptiness he felt inside.
* * *
Having checked on Ivan throughout the night, Rachel was wearier in the morning than she’d been when she went to bed. Since it was an off Sunday, she suggested she and Ivan hold their own worship services together. She was delighted when he told her he’d kept their father’s old Bible in a drawer upstairs. Rachel read aloud from it in German. Although she hadn’t practiced the language in years, the words returned to her as readily as the vistas of Serenity Ridge, so familiar and beautiful she wondered how she’d gone so long without them.
When she finished reading, she prepared a light lunch and then Ivan needed to sleep again, so Rachel helped him into the bedroom and then tiptoed away, leaving the door slightly ajar so she could hear if he summoned her. She was drying their dishes when a buggy approached; it was Arden’s.
“Grace wanted me to deliver these whoopie pies. She thinks they’ll whet Ivan’s appetite for home-cooked food again.” He handed her a square plastic container with a note taped on top of it, reading:
Rachel,
Mamm and I are expecting visitors this afternoon or I would have kumme to see you and Ivan myself. We are praying for you both.
The Amish Nurse's Suitor Page 10