Rain beating against the window, Rachel woke, stifling a cry into her damp pillow, the same way she did every morning, early in the darkest hours, before the sun began to rise. She swiped away the long strands, wetness lingering on her cheeks. He had been the one man made for her. But in only one day, within a few devastating moments, that dream had been shattered.
There were no words of reassurance, no pledges of his unending love. Only goodbye.
With each day, the chances of ever seeing him again grew slimmer. School wasn't for a few hours, so she slipped on her running shorts and headed outside and down her path.
Running had always cleared her mind, had always been a balm. She needed desperately for something, anything to soothe away the unending sadness suffocating her. Sweat gathered and clung to her skin with each mile. But the grueling attempt to drive him from her mind only heightened her memories with each step. His face was clearer, his voice in her head sharper. So she kept running, mile after mile, every single day, before school and after school. She pushed herself harder each day, clinging to the escape frantically, desperately.
The long, unforgiving days stretched into weeks, months. Could her friends, her classmates tell a part of her had been ripped out?
Going through the motions of school became a consolation, an outlet where she could be involved in something of significance, regardless of whether it mattered. But some days were worse than others, when pretending was too hard. And today was one of those days.
I can't do this.
She rushed down the hall, the bathroom seemed miles away. When she finally reached it, the sinks were lined with girls fixing their makeup. She slipped into a stall and held her chest, willing away the moans, reaching beyond the surface.
After they all left, Rachel inched her way toward the mirror and wiped the fresh tears running down her cheeks. She no longer recognized the person staring back at her.
In the cafeteria, everyone talked around her, but she couldn't concentrate on any one conversation. Her tray of food sat untouched. Finally, the bell rang and as she was leaving, a flier in the cafeteria caught her attention.
Softball tryouts—Friday
Softball. The thought drifted through Rachel’s mind and gave her a moment of relief, but the relief dissolved just as quickly.
Climbing into her car, the sound of cheerful voices and laughter echoed all around her. Everyone acted as if the world still went on just as it always had. She drove away angry. Hers would never be the same again.
Every day on her way home, she searched the faces of each person as Amish buggies passed by, only to be disappointed time and time again.
She drove toward Paul's house, like she did every day. And every day was the same. When nearing his house she clamped the steering wheel and shifted, unable to get comfortable. She imagined him waiting for her, seeing her car, and running out to meet her. She swallowed hard as she pulled past the trees that blocked the view of his family’s farm. If only she could stop and talk to Mary.
Rachel pulled over and pressed her fists against her eyes until she could breathe without sobbing. The sting of emptiness threatened to pull her under, and she gasped for air.
She turned the car around, driving blindly, still struggling for air. The car veered to the middle of the road. A horn blared, seizing her full attention. Her adrenaline spiked as she straightened and maneuvered the car back to her side in one solid motion. What had she been thinking driving in that condition? She should've waited. She knew better.
Her arms, her hands, her legs trembled during the short drive back to her house. She ran to her room and locked the door behind her. She lunged onto her bed and pushed her face into her pillow, muffling the sounds of her sobs.
Turning over, she stared at the ceiling. Images of Paul flashed vividly. Him hanging a shutter, walking across the yard, sitting next to her in the loft. No matter where she turned, no matter where she looked, he was there. The curves lifting his cheeks when he smiled. The earthy, clean, fresh wood smell that clung to him. She could almost hear the sound of his hammer beating on something downstairs.
After dinner, Mom wrung a washcloth over the kitchen sink and spread it across the side. Something Rachel usually didn't notice. But tonight Mom had been quieter than usual. And then Mom turned to face her. “I’m selling the house.”
Rachel had started walking away, but stopped in her tracks. “What? What're you talking about?”
“I need to get you away from here. We're moving to the city.”
Get me away from here. Rachel bit the inside of her lip, hard, the taste of blood trickling onto her tongue. Her thoughts raced. “Where?”
“I don’t know yet. But definitely in another state.”
“You want to leave Pennsylvania? But I’m graduating in a few months.”
“I’m not planning to do anything until after you graduate. I wouldn’t do that to you.” She grabbed her cup from the counter. “But you’ll be going off to college in the fall.”
“I’ll be coming home.” Rachel lifted her eyebrows, forcing a lighter expression onto her face. “A lot.”
Mom scrutinized her reaction. “You’ll be in Florida. You won’t be able to come home every weekend.”
Her gaze fell to the wood floor beneath her, admiring the dark stain he had polished himself. Another reminder of his presence. They were everywhere. “I’m not going to Pensacola State.”
Mom set her coffee on the table and settled into the chair. “What?”
Rachel cleared her throat. “I changed my mind.”
“But you’ve wanted to go there your whole life. You and Samantha. All your friends are in Florida.”
“You're the one who made me come here. Now you're going to force me to leave.” Her tone, her attitude was much sharper than she'd intended.
“I had no choice. It was the best thing for both of us,” her mom snapped back. “It's almost as if the accident has happened all over again. You do nothing but homework and run.”
“I'm getting ready for softball.” The lie was easy, but necessary. She couldn’t leave. What if he came back?
“Softball?” Mom's brow crinkled. “You haven't played since ...”
“I know. Tryouts are tomorrow.”
“You're trying out?”
“I have to. This will be my last chance to play.”
Mom broke the connection of their locked gaze, not giving away even a tiny hint of her looming response. “You still need to get away. Why don't we go home for a few days?”
Rachel should've been happy. That's what she'd wanted, until everything changed. Now, she couldn't imagine returning to Florida. “Home. When?”
“During spring break.”
“Okay, I'll let Sam know we're coming.” The animation in her tone surprised even her. Plastering on a smile, she hugged her mom.
“Honey, you're not the only person who has ever gone through something like this.”
“I know that.” But in reality it hadn't felt that way. It was impossible to think anyone else had ever suffered this way.
“I'm worried about you.” With a sad smile, Mom switched quickly to another line of attack. “He's not coming back, Rachel. It's time to move on.”
She inhaled, slowly, carefully. “I will. I am. I’ve got homework.” She took the steps two at a time only reaching her room and closing the door milliseconds before the harsh sobs erupted.
After a full hour of feeling sorry for herself, Rachel finished a math assignment and walked downstairs. Mom sat on the couch, reading a book, the news on television playing softly in the background.
Rachel couldn’t bear to stay in her room any longer, or to sit in the room across from her mom. Not right now. “I'm going to the loft for a few minutes.”
“Okay. But don’t stay out there too late. I want you in before I go to bed.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Rachel hadn’t been in the barn since he left. She took one slow step after another as she climbed t
he ladder. She lit the wick and the lantern illuminated the loft. She remembered his reason for leaving it on the small wooden table. If only he would stop by now, but that would never happen. He was gone.
Rachel pulled down the plaque he'd made and ran her hand over the beautiful carvings. Her finger caught in a groove on the back and she turned it over. An inscription stared back at her. She walked to the table and held it over the light.
Rachel–I will always love you. Paul.
She collapsed against the wall, her tears falling again endlessly, without relief.
I have to get out of here.
By the time the sun rose over the horizon, she knew she had to do something different, something meaningful. She couldn't keep doing this to herself.
She wouldn't.
Rachel leaned against the wall next to Kelli's locker. “Are you trying out for softball today?”
“Yeah, are you?”
“I think so.”
“Really? That’s great, Rachel.” Kelli’s eyes shimmered as she wrapped both arms around her. She pulled away still grasping to Rachel's arms. “We’ll have so much fun. I've missed you so much.”
“Yeah, me too. I’m excited.” Thoughts of her daddy and him molded into one, and she turned from Kelli’s gaze. “Meet you at the field.”
As the season started, and her team played back-to-back games, she stepped right back onto the field as if she'd never left. Things were looking better, each day she felt stronger. Even though her thoughts continued to revolve around him, the pain was ... bearable.
Weeks later, on a Friday afternoon, Jordan was standing by her car in the school parking lot. “Hey.”
“Hey, what're you doing here? His expression was filled with pity, like he was waiting for her to break at any moment, but then it changed, and he pulled her into a hug. Rachel stiffened but relaxed after a few seconds. Why had she ignored him? It didn't matter that he didn't agree with her relationship with ... him. Jordan had always been one of her truest friends. She needed him. But this wouldn't be easy. She'd gotten so used to tuning everything out, to being alone in her misery.
He looked at her carefully. “I figured this was the only way to see you.”
“I'm sorry, Jordan. I've been so busy. Softball practice, games, and so much homework.”
“Can we hang out for a while? I miss you.”
“I would love to. What do you want to do?”
His eyes brightened. “Well, I have an idea, but I thought we could grab some dinner first.”
“Okay.” The enthusiastic voice she tried to muster fell flat. She texted her mom trying to fill the void when she could think of nothing to say.
He took her to a restaurant, away from the Amish community, just as Paul had done so many times. She pushed the stabbing thought from her mind. “Thank you … for coming.”
“You don’t have to thank me.” He took her arm and led her to a booth in the corner.
The waitress took their orders and as soon as she left them alone, Rachel leaned forward. “When do I find out what we’re doing next?”
“Be patient.” He winked. “You never did have any.”
“Ha. You’re one to talk.”
He crossed his arms.
“I know I haven’t been the best friend lately.” He came with no questions, even though she had taken none of his calls and refused to see him the few times he'd stopped by.
“We’ve been friends since we were kids.” His tone deepened. “I’ll always be here for you.”
If only she could return to that time and stay there forever. Mom had been right. Losing Paul was almost like losing her dad all over again. Like the grief was only in hiding, waiting for the perfect moment to reappear, to throw her back into that lowly place of hopelessness.
“I’m taking you to the fair.”
A real smile filled her lips for the first time since he came. “Really? How did you even know they had one here? Isn't it an odd time of year for a fair?”
“It's not a real fair, but something similar. On the way into Paradise I saw a few signs.” He reached across the table and grabbed her hand. With a gentle squeeze, he released it. “We’ve never missed one, until last year. I miss those times.”
“Me too.”
When they reached the parking lot, the Farris wheel lights brightened the entire lot. Rachel wrapped her arms across her waist as Jordan guided her through the gate and forward onto the dirt path. She inhaled the combined aromas of popcorn, cotton candy, and funnel cake, bringing back many memories.
“Should I get wristbands so we can ride everything?”
“Absolutely. Let’s rock this carnival out.”
His grip on her waist tightened. “That’s my girl.”
She could do this, if she kept her focus on the distant past and off things that could never be.
Jordan pulled her forward. “Look, they have our favorite ride.”
Rachel stepped on her tiptoes. “The twirling thing that rocks back and forth as it spins? What's it called?” She closed her eyes, trying to remember. “The Tilt-A-Whirl.”
“You didn’t forget.”
She met his gaze. “How could I? We’ve ridden it a million times.”
Once seated on the familiar ride, she fastened her seatbelt. It started in slow motion, then sped up with each spin. Her smile widened until she was laughing out loud, until her jaws were hurting. But every single moment was an act. None of it felt real.
Dizziness swept over her and the lightheadedness overwhelmed her until she thought she would pass out.
Jordan took her hand. “Are you all right?”
She studied the way his eyes narrowed with concern. She pulled her hand away from his. It wasn't the calloused hand or large fingers she wanted to feel gripping hers. “I'm fine. Maybe we should've started with a ride that had little less spinning.” With a plastered-on smile, she strode forward. The last thing she wanted was to hurt him. But right now she needed distance. “Let's try the carousel.”
They spent the next few hours riding everything at least twice. She tried blocking out her pain, to pretend she was back in Florida, back before things got so bad.
Jordan bought them a candied apple, and then won her a bear in a basketball game.
The walk back through the gate and into the parking lot came way too fast. “Thank you for this. For everything.”
On the drive home Jordan took her hand. This time, the warm gentleness surprised her, it felt natural. He’d always been like a brother.
Rachel lost herself in memories on the ride back to Paradise. She was back in Florida, waiting for Jordan to come home from college. They always spent at least one day at the beach, always had dinner at Sonny's BBQ, and always watched one movie while he was in town. She allowed the memories to flow from one to the other until a horse and buggy drove by and her thoughts came crashing back to the present.
Above all else, she was determined to stay in Paradise. But was she making the right choice?
Thirty-Nine
Desperate for a diversion, Rachel drove down the narrow streets of Paradise and stopped at the Central Market. The scents of grilled sausage and onions nauseated her. She scanned the quilts and wooden plaques near the front door. Then her mistake slammed against her chest. Too many Amish moved through the building, her eyes searching each one. She moved closer to the front and her gaze landed on the one person she never expected to see.
Jason.
The lump in her throat thickened. She took a step back and turned in one solid motion eager to escape without being seen.
“Rachel?”
She stopped mid-stride. “Mary?” Rachel's hand flew to her chest as she tried to hide the panic coursing through her. “It's so good to see you.”
Mary came toward her and looped Rachel’s arm through hers. “Do you want to walk outside?”
More than happy to flee the open expanse of the market where Jason could spot her easily, Rachel followed Mary through the double doors
. “I’ve missed you.”
“Jah, me too. It's been so long.” A strange look crossed Mary's face as if she were fighting against her own reaction. “I'm sorry, Rachel.”
“How is your family?” She wouldn’t bring Paul up. Rachel couldn’t bear to hear he had moved on with his life. With Anna.
“Mamm and Daed are gut.” Mary led her toward the grassy meadow where the horses grazed. “I have an uncle that isn't doing well. They're not expecting him to make it through the weekend.”
“Oh, Mary, I'm so sorry.”
“He's suffered for months. He will be happy and healthy when he goes to be with our Father in heaven.”
Rachel had always believed that, but hearing Mary say it suddenly shaped a new meaning into the depths of her heart. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain ... Her daddy wasn't mourning or crying. He was no longer in pain. Just the thought of Daddy standing by Jesus, singing praises to Him in his baritone voice, brought a lighthearted smile to her lips.
Mary touched her shoulder. “How are you?”
How could she answer that truthfully? “I’m staying busy. My friend Jordan …” She thought of yesterday and shook her head. “He’s been a good friend.”
“Ach, I tried to tell Paul.” Mary rubbed the horse’s mane. “He wouldn’t listen.”
Hearing his name in her accent, so similar to his, created a burning sensation through her midsection. Her pulse thumped violently through her chest. Shivers swept through Rachel, and she leaned against the fencepost, pressing her arms against her stomach.
“Thomas and I married. We’re staying in the same house until the one we've wanted becomes available.”
“I'm so happy for you. How is Thomas?”
Chasing Paradise (A Paradise Novel Book 1) Page 21