Brush of Angel's Wings

by Ruth Reid

  “I’ve never been out of Hope Falls.” She was unable to imagine ever wanting to leave where she lived.

  “It doesn’t take long to get a Class A license, and most companies will reimburse your schooling,” he said with excitement in his voice.

  “You found that out using Kayla’s phone?”

  He navigated a turn before answering. “She has the Internet on it.”

  Kayla’s worldliness had certainly impressed him. “What does she think about you becoming a truck driver?” Rachel’s stomach rolled. Did she really want to know what Kayla thought?

  Jordan stood at the doorway of Micah’s hospital room, paralyzed by memories of his mother’s last days. Antiseptic penetrated the air, constricting his lungs. He leaned against the door frame, knees wobbling beneath his weight. He should’ve stayed outside with the horse. His reaction to seeing Micah like this was unexpected and unsettling.

  “It’s gut to see you, Jordan.” Micah winced and both Miriam and Rachel moved closer to the bedside.

  Miriam gestured to the IV tubing. “Push your pain button.”

  “I’m okay.” But his deep-furrowed brow indicated otherwise. “Denki for kumming back to work.” His neck muscles tensed as he blew out a slow breath.

  “Of course.”

  Rachel’s powdery-white complexion masked her normal radiance. Tears brimmed as she stared vacantly at her father’s leg suspended above the bed by some form of mechanical traction.

  “I want to speak with Jordan alone,” Micah said.

  Miriam reached for Rachel’s hand. “We’ll take a walk. Maybe go to the cafeteria for a cup of fancy kaffi.”

  Jordan wiped his sweaty hands on his pants. He waited for Rachel and Miriam to leave the room before he eased closer to the bedside.

  “Is something—” Jordan swallowed, his throat dry. Of course something was wrong. Micah wanted to speak with him alone.

  Micah frowned. “I’m sorry. I’m sure being in a hospital brings back painful memories of your mamm.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I wish Rachel hadn’t asked you to bring her.” Micah winced again.

  “She didn’t. I offered. Are you in pain?” Jordan took a few steps toward the door. “I can get the nurse for you.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  Jordan took the seat by his bedside. “Rachel didn’t ask me to bring her. The field’s too wet to work and we were both concerned about you.”

  Micah forced a smile he couldn’t hold.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to call a nurse?” The same useless feeling washed over Jordan. He couldn’t do anything for his mother either.

  Micah closed his eyes and finally pushed the button to deliver a dose of pain medication. “Will you do something for me?”

  “Anything.”

  “Have patience with Rachel. She’s going to balk at brotherly advice, but try to work in unity.”

  “We’ve been getting along.”

  “Gut. I worry about her. She’s unlike mei other daughters.”

  Rachel was unlike any woman Jordan had ever known. In some ways, he worried about her too, more so than he should.

  Within a few minutes, the pain medicine took effect and Micah closed his eyes. Jordan sat with him quietly until Rachel and Miriam returned, their faces shifting into expressions of deeper concern.

  “The pain medicine knocked him out,” Jordan said, standing and offering Miriam the chair. Her eyes were shadowed with exhaustion as she gratefully accepted it.

  “I’ll wait in the hall.” Jordan stepped out of the room. He didn’t want to rush Rachel if she wanted to stay longer, but the smell of disinfectant nauseated him.

  A few minutes later, Rachel came out of the room sniffling.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I guess.” She wiped her face with a wad of tissue. She didn’t look okay.

  They walked down the hall, the silence broken only by Rachel’s sniffling. Jordan wanted to comfort her during the short elevator ride to the lobby but kept his hands at his sides in the elevator as well as to the end of the parking lot where Jordan had tied Ginger to a lamppost. As he untied the horse, Rachel climbed inside the buggy.

  “Micah’s going to be okay,” Jordan said, climbing in beside her.

  Her eyes filled with tears. “It’s hard seeing him in pain.”

  “I know.” He released the brake, clicked his tongue, and snapped the reins.

  “Was your mother in the hospital a lot before she died?”

  “Yes.” He maneuvered Ginger onto the shoulder of the road. Thankfully, Rachel didn’t ask more questions. She sat with her hands folded on her lap and looked away from him. His heart felt linked with hers. He knew the pain of seeing a parent in the hospital with nothing you could do to help. He was grateful, however, that her father would be coming home.

  A few blocks later, Jordan turned the horse into the parking lot of the IGA grocery store, pulled up to the entrance, handed Rachel the reins, and jumped out. “I’ll be back in a minute. I just want to grab a few items.”

  Rachel expected Jordan to pull a pie out of the grocery bag he’d set on the counter inside her kitchen, but he brought out an eggplant. She crinkled her nose as he unloaded the remaining items: chicken, cheese, tomato sauce, and breadcrumbs.

  He turned on the tap water and rinsed the eggplant. “Want to help?”

  “Sure.”

  “You can slice this.” He handed her the wet eggplant. “I’ll get the chicken ready.”

  Rachel took a knife from the drawer, and while she cut the eggplant, she kept him in sight. He moved around the kitchen with ease. First he washed the chicken breasts, then dipped them in eggs and coated them in crumb mix.

  “Once you’ve cut the eggplant, layer it in the bottom of a cake pan.”

  “Okay.” Having him instruct her in cooking tasks felt awkward. Naomi would tease her for certain. As awkward as it was, she liked it.

  After frying the chicken in a greased skillet, he placed the pieces on top of the eggplant, poured the tomato sauce over the ingredients, and placed the pan in the oven.

  “While this bakes, we have time to feed the animals.” He headed to the door as though on a mission.

  She trailed him out to the barn. “What do you call that dish?”

  “Chicken and eggplant parmesan.” He held the barn door open for her. “Ever have it?”

  “Nay.”

  He gathered the water buckets and headed outside while she filled the feed buckets with grain.

  “What about milking?” she asked after they had fed all the animals.

  “Let’s eat first.”

  Stepping inside the house, the thick scent of oregano caused Rachel’s mouth to water. She tried peeking around his shoulder as he sprinkled cheese on top of the chicken, but he blocked her view. “Go sit,” he said, slipping the pan back into the oven.

  She opened the cupboard and reached for the plates, but Jordan took her hand and led her to her chair. “Sit. I have everything under control.” It amazed her to watch him. He moved about the kitchen with a sense of belonging and comfort. It was nice that she felt she could learn from him, and he wasn’t mocking her less-than-admirable cooking ability.

  A few minutes later, he placed two plates of food on the table and took his seat across from her. After prayer, he watched as she took the first bite, holding his breath until she finished chewing.

  “It’s delicious.” She took another bite.

  “I’m glad you like it.”

  She waved her empty fork. “Don’t fill your head with hohchmoot.”

  He tilted his head. “Hot air?”

  “Pride.”

  He cut a bite for himself. “I’m glad you like it that much.”

  “I suppose you’ll remind me of that too.”

  “For certain.” He winked.

  Rachel’s face heated. She expected him to call her Red, but he lowered his head and focused on eating.

  Their conversatio
n moved from topic to topic as they ate the delicious meal. They mostly told funny stories of things they did when they were small children. When they had eaten all they could, Rachel stood to collect the dirty dishes.

  A moment later the back door opened and Sadie and Timothy came in.

  “Ach, Rachel, something smells gut.” Sadie looked at the pan. “What did you make?”

  “It’s chicken and eggplant parmesan. Jordan made it.”

  Sadie’s brows raised and she glanced at Timothy.

  “Don’t get any fancy ideas,” Timothy said. “Anything I cooked wouldn’t be edible.” He turned to Jordan. “You need a hand with milking?”

  “Sure.”

  Once Jordan and Timothy were outside, Sadie spoke to Rachel. “You two seem to be getting along gut.”

  “Jah, I suppose so.” Rachel picked up the kettle. “Want a cup of kaffi?”

  “Nay, I have to give up caffeine.” Sadie sat and propped her legs up on the chair beside her. “Mei legs are swollen and mei heart is racing.”

  “Is that normal?”

  “I suppose. The midwife wants me to watch my weight. She says every pregnancy is different.”

  Rachel emptied the hot water from the kettle into the sink.

  “Do you want help?” Sadie lowered her legs from the chair.

  “Nay, I’m fine. You rest.” Rachel pulled a dishrag from the drawer. “Have you started making clothes for your boppli yet?”

  “Some. I’ve been given some too, mostly boys’ clothes.” She rubbed her belly. “But everyone tells me I need to be ready for twins.”

  “I’ll help you sew.”

  Sadie looked surprised. “What’s up? Something is if you’re offering to sew.” She shifted in her seat, trying to get more comfortable. “Tell me about Jordan. Is he talking about joining the church?”

  “He wants to be a truck driver.” Rachel continued washing the dishes. She didn’t want to chance Sadie recognizing disappointment in her expression.

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  Rachel used the back of her hand to wipe some stray hair from her cheek. “I don’t know why.”

  “Keep your distance. You don’t want to fall in love. Unless he’s committed to the church and—”

  Rachel held up her sudsy hand. “I know.” She wiped her hands on her apron and took the cookie jar off the counter to distract Sadie’s thoughts. “Want a cookie?”

  Just as Sadie reached her hand inside the jar, the back door opened and Jordan and Timothy entered. Timothy took one look at the cookie in Sadie’s hand and frowned. “The midwife said you’ve already gained more weight than you should for your entire pregnancy.”

  “Since when did your fraa’s weight bother you?” Rachel had never heard him mention anything about Sadie’s appearance.

  “Since her blood pressure has soared.” He winked at Sadie.

  “You know what the midwife said.”

  Sadie put the cookie into Timothy’s outstretched hand. “He’s right. I don’t want bed rest.”

  Rachel passed the jar to Timothy. “You’ll eat an extra one for Sadie, jah?”

  “I’d be happy to,” he said as he put his hand in the jar.

  Jordan reached for one next. “Timothy thinks we should burn the stumps instead of pull them out.”

  “It’ll be safer.”

  Rachel filled two glasses with milk. One she handed to Timothy and the other to Jordan.

  “Rachel and I can work on the stumps in the morning.” Jordan dunked his peanut butter cookie into the milk.

  “Bishop Lapp has gathered a crew to help with the planting tomorrow.”

  Rachel twisted her apron around her hands.

  “Is there a problem?” Timothy asked.

  “Nay . . . I just . . .” She looked at Sadie. “What will I make to feed them all?”

  “You could always make hinkel dumplings. Those are easy to prepare.”

  Rachel glanced at Jordan’s lopsided grin. No, hinkel wasn’t an option. “Any other ideas?”

  “You could make yummasetti. There should be a jar of canned hamburger in the cellar.”

  “Thank you.” Rachel was not pleased with her options, but the simplest way to drop the subject was to agree with her sister.

  Timothy drained his glass of milk and set it next to the cookie crumbs spilled on the table. “We should head home, my fraa.”

  He stood and helped Sadie up from the chair, his eyes filled with concern and care.

  I want a husband like that. It was like Rachel’s heart whispered the prayer to God. She felt herself blush, as though the others had heard her thoughts.

  “Don’t worry about tomorrow,” Sadie said. “There will be plenty of food.”

  Rachel forced a smile. Her sisters didn’t understand. They couldn’t. They were so different from her. Why had God made her that way?

  She waited until Sadie and Timothy were gone before turning to Jordan, hand on her hip, pretending to be annoyed. “I saw your expression.”

  He didn’t deny what she saw. “It doesn’t matter. I ate dumplings today and I’ll eat them tomorrow.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Try me.” He stepped toward the door, reaching for the handle. “You want to take a walk?”

  Rachel’s heart fluttered. “Sure,” she said, keeping her tone neutral.

  “I want to check out the stumps that need to be burned.”

  Together they stepped outside and down the stairs. They ambled silently to the east field. Rachel marveled at how she almost never felt uncomfortable with the silence that often accompanied them when they were together.

  At the first stump, Jordan walked around the perimeter, eyeing the gnarled deadwood. Rachel watched him, noticing everything about how he moved, squatted, inspected the problem before him. She liked how he took it all in, seeming to examine it carefully within before coming up with a solution. His decisions didn’t appear to be rash or impulsive.

  Jordan straightened and Rachel pretended to be interested in something off in the distance. “Let’s go find the other ones. On our way I’d like to check out the river.”

  Rachel froze.

  “I found some old newspapers in the little house and I read about the angel sighting and—” He stopped and turned. “You’re not coming?”

  Rachel held her aching heart. “I don’t go to the river anymore.”

  She drew in a hitched breath and pivoted so she wasn’t facing him. “And there hasn’t been an angel around here in two years.”

  Nathaniel sighed. “I’ve been here with you all along, child. I’ve been assigned to encamp around you and minister to your needs.” He lifted his focus upward. “Why do they need to see before they will believe?”

  “I’m sorry. I forgot about the river . . . and your brother.”

  She looked down at the dirt. “Who told you about James?”

  “Micah told me,” he said softly. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to stir up painful memories.”

  Unable to speak, she nodded.

  “Open your heart. God hears your cry,” Nathaniel whispered.

  Jordan took her shoulder and gently turned her toward the house. “Let’s go back and sit on the porch.”

  She walked with her head down, needing to say something she was ashamed of. “I didn’t like you at all when you first kumm to stay.”

  “So you say.” He gently nudged her. “You pointed out how my milk bucket wasn’t full.”

  A funny image came to mind—Jordan flexing his stiff hands after milking. She lifted her head, smiling. Then the smile faded as the image grew fuller. “I didn’t treat you well.” She scuffed her feet over the damp soil. “I’ve wanted to help my father since James died, and then you kumm to stay and—”

  “And you think I’ve tried to take James’s place?”

  “Haven’t you?” She didn’t want to sound accusing. She just wanted to know.

  “I needed a job. That’s all.”

 
; She didn’t like the twinge that pricked her heart at his words.

  He nudged her shoulder with his. “I still don’t get all the milk out of a cow.”

  She cracked a smile.

  They took a few steps in silence when Rachel just let the words come. “James planned to marry Katie Bender. They were going to live in the grossdaadi haus and he was supposed to shoe horses with Daed.” Her words ran together. “I didn’t want an outsider to replace James in mei daed’s heart.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Thick smoke from the burning stump engulfed Jordan when the wind shifted. All morning the dense, soot-filled air had trailed them each step they took.

  Rachel coughed but didn’t attempt to move. He reached for her elbow and guided them both out of the flow.

  “Go inside. I can handle this,” he said.

  “I want to help.” She rubbed her sooty hands over her eyes, leaving a ring of black smudges around them.

  “You look like a raccoon.”

  She wiped her eyes but made them darker.

  Jordan reached for her hand and brought it away from her face, turning it palm up so she could see the soot and dirt.

  She laughed. “I made it worse, didn’t I?”

  “Oh no. I kind of like it.” He moved in front of her, pretending to study her face. “You missed a few places.” He dragged his dirty thumbs over her cheekbones, then dotted her nose. “Now you’re irresistible.” The words slipped out before he could catch them.

  Rachel heard. He could see it in her eyes. But he couldn’t tell what she thought of them. He dropped his hands and moved to check the fire—the easiest way out of his mistake.

  “This stump is under control.”

  He picked up the water buckets. “Let’s go get the last one.”

  Rachel grabbed the shovel and a bucket. “Do you think that one is too close to the woods?”

  “It might be.” He studied the stump as he approached. Because it wasn’t centered in the field like the others, they could plant crops around it without much difficulty. On the other hand, the surrounding trees looked fine, and their green leaves were still—the breeze had died down.