One True Path

by Cameron, Barbara;

  Naomi rushed up. “Rachel Ann, could you do me a favor? I forgot to bring the cookies I made for the quilting class. Could you walk down to the bakery and get some for me? I’d go, but I’m helping a student who came in early.”

  “Schur.”

  It felt good to get out of the store and walk in the brisk fall air to the bakery. There was no need to put on the mask she felt she’d been wearing at the shop, no need to talk to anyone. She didn’t pass anyone she knew, and the few tourists she passed only gave her curious glances.

  Cinnamon, sugar, nutmeg, and other delicious scents hit her the moment she opened the door to the bakery. The aromas and the glass cases filled with dozens of different pastries didn’t tempt Rachel Ann’s appetite at all.

  “Rachel Ann! How is your bruder doing?” Linda asked as she looked up from behind the counter.

  “The same.”

  Linda’s eyes showed compassion. “I’ll keep praying. You look tired. Do you have time to sit and have a cup of tea?”

  “Nee. I came to get two dozen cookies for Naomi’s class.”

  A timer dinged. “I have some just coming out of the oven,” Linda said. “Give me a second.”

  She headed to the back of the bakery and returned with a pan of raisin cookies. “I’m a little behind. Lost my part-timer two weeks before Christmas—my busiest time of the year.” She jerked her head toward the Help Wanted sign tacked on the wall nearby as she took her place behind a glass case.

  “Now, what kind?”

  “Naomi said mix them up.”

  Into the box went Snickerdoodles, peanut butter, oatmeal raisin, chocolate chip, and butter cookies. “Want one on the house to eat now?”

  “Nee, danki, I’m not hungry.”

  Linda closed the box, set it on top of the counter, and took the money from Rachel Ann. “Things will get better. Just keep trusting God.”

  Rachel Ann opened her mouth to say it was hard and then she shut it. Linda needed a part-time baker, and she needed to bring some more money into the house while her parents stayed at the hospital with Sam.

  “Linda, you know I love to bake.”

  “Ya, and you’re a fine baker.” Linda lifted her brows.

  “Tell me about the part-time job. What are the hours?”

  A few minutes later, Rachel Ann walked out of the bakery, a box of cookies in her hands and a new job starting early the next morning. Linda had even said her driver could pick her up on the way.

  Linda had said to trust God. Who knew He’d provide what she needed so quickly.

  Now if He’d just heal Sam.

  4

  Abram woke when he heard a van pull into the driveway of Rachel Ann’s house. He got out of bed and looked out the window, wondering if her parents were coming home late from the hospital.

  The door to the van opened, and he recognized Linda from the bakery in the lit interior. Rachel Ann stepped inside, the door shut, and the van drove away.

  This had been going on for a week. How on earth was Rachel Ann going to manage working a nearly full-time as well as a part-time job?

  He went back to bed—he didn’t get up for another hour or so as a rule—but instead of sleeping found himself thinking about her.

  Leroy and Martha had come home last night while he’d been outside, and he’d talked with them for a few minutes. Rachel Ann had nodded to him but walked inside as he checked on Sam’s progress. She had looked pale and quiet.

  Whenever a member of his community ended up in the hospital and accumulated big medical bills everyone rallied to help pay them. Abram decided he’d go visit the bishop and see what was being done for the family to help with Sam’s expenses. Yes, Michael had said he and his father had talked to their insurance company about paying the hospital bills, but who knew if it could be depended upon. And it didn’t pay for the wages Martha and Leroy were missing as they sat with their son at the hospital.

  In the end he got up, his mind too abuzz with his thoughts. Might as well get started with the chores. He had Leroy’s horses to feed and care for as well as his own. Then he could hitch up the buggy and go on into town.

  He dressed and tried to be quiet as he went downstairs for coffee, but a few minutes later his mother padded into the kitchen bundled up in her warm robe.

  “You’re up early,” she said as she took a seat at the table.

  She nodded when he held up the percolator, and he poured her a cup and set it before her.

  “I heard the van picking up Rachel Ann.” He sat and added sugar to his coffee. “Why are Leroy and Martha allowing her to work herself to death?”

  “It’s not for us to judge,” she said quietly. “I know you care about her but so do her parents. There must be some reason she wants to do it. Maybe she’s trying to bring in some extra money since Leroy and Martha aren’t working right now.”

  He frowned into his cup. “But you know our community will be helping.” He rubbed his forehead. “So much changed so quickly. And is still changing. I can’t imagine what will happen if Sam doesn’t recover. It’s all so sad. So unnecessary. Why does a little boy have to be hurt and his family devastated like this?”

  “Are you questioning me—or God?”

  Abram looked up at her. “I find it hard to figure out why something like this happened—why it had to happen. How is this God’s plan? I know it’s His will. He made it happen. But how does this figure into His plan?”

  “It’s not our job to try to tell God what to do or how to do it. We have to trust, Abram. We have to take some things on faith. One thing I know: God isn’t punishing their family.”

  “I wish I felt as sure. I know Rachel Ann, and I know she’s probably punishing herself for Sam being hurt.”

  “You’ll be there for her as a friend.” She got to her feet. “Now why don’t you go take care of chores and I’ll start breakfast.”

  “You should go back to bed and get some more rest. I can see you’re in pain.”

  “I can do it later. How about dippy eggs and sausage and biscuits?”

  “Sounds good. I’ll be back in no time.”

  She laughed. “I thought you would.”

  * * *

  Rachel Ann had been cooking and baking since she was a little girl. But she’d never baked such huge amounts of cookies and pastries at one time.

  Linda had set up her bakery to look like the inside of an Amish kitchen since the tourists liked to buy “the real thing” as they called the authentic cookies, whoopie pies, and other goodies. There were no big stainless steel mixers, so Rachel Ann felt her arms were getting a real workout as she used a big wooden spoon to mix up a batch of pumpkin whoopie pie batter in an enormous red pottery bowl.

  “How are you doing back here?” Linda came back to ask. “Here, let’s get a little cool air in here. You’re looking a little warm.” She opened a window, and a welcome gust of cool fall air drifted in.

  It was warm wearing a big white apron over her dress, but Rachel Ann didn’t mind. She was enjoying filling the big baking sheets with scoops of cookie dough and putting them in the giant ovens roaring with heat. She slid the last sheet of the current batch into the oven, set the timer, and stretched her sore back muscles.

  Next, she was trying Linda’s recipe for red velvet whoopie pies, a tourist favorite. She glanced at the clock. Another hour and she had to switch gears and go to her other job.

  Linda came back with two steaming mugs of coffee. “Sit, you have time for a break before that batch comes out.”

  Rachel Ann perched nervously on a stool. Linda had a reputation for being a stern taskmaster—fair but expecting a lot out of her workers. So far Rachel Ann thought she’d done pretty well—she’d only burned one batch of cookies.

  “I’ve known you since you were born so I had no doubt you’d be a hard worker,” Linda told her.

  Relieved, Rachel Ann smiled. “Danki.”

  “I do think you’re pushing yourself just a bit, though,” she said. “You’re doin
g nearly twice as much as my last part-timer. I don’t want you to wear yourself into the ground.”

  She glanced over at the oven as the timer went off. “What have you got in there right now?”

  “Gingerbread cookies. I think I have time to do a batch of red velvet whoopie pies before I leave.”

  “Gut. People love those. Just watch your time. I don’t want to make you late to Leah’s.”

  Rachel Ann nodded and slid from her stool. She grabbed potholders, pulled out the cookie sheets, and laid them on a wooden table to cool. “I thought I’d take a gingerbread boy to the hospital for Sam.” She used a spatula to slide two of the cookies onto the table to decorate.

  “I didn’t realize he’d woken up. How wonderful!”

  Her face fell. “He hasn’t, but I’m hoping.”

  Linda patted her hand. “All in God’s timing, dear one.”

  Rachel Ann looked into Linda’s kind eyes and bit back the words she wanted to blurt out. Why did God have to be so slow? She wanted Sam awake and okay now.

  She decorated the gingerbread boys with raisin eyes, a cocky white icing grin, and a jacket of red icing and green gumdrop buttons. They went into a bakery box lined with several layers of scrunched up tissue to protect them.

  “See you tomorrow,” she told Linda when she walked into the front of the bakery.

  “Have a gut day and tell your parents I’m praying for Sam,” Linda said. “Oh, here’s your paycheck. There’s a little something extra in it for your efforts.”

  “Danki,” she managed, a little overwhelmed with Linda’s kindness.

  Earlier she’d wished God’s timing was faster, and it was no different when she did her shift at Stitches in Time. She just wanted the day to be over so she could visit Sam. It had been a week since the accident—a long week. Time for Sam to wake up.

  Leah smiled when Rachel Ann approached her at the front counter at the close of the business day and asked if there was anything else she needed to do.

  “Nee, kind, it’s time for all of us to be done with work and be with our families,” she said with a smile. She reached into the cash drawer and handed Rachel Ann her paycheck then glanced at the front window. “There’s your ride now.”

  Rachel Ann clutched her paycheck to her chest. It was going to feel so good to hand over not one but two paychecks to her parents tonight.

  “See you Sunday!” she called and hurried outside. The van door opened, and to her surprise Abram stepped out.

  She stopped in her tracks. “What are you doing here?” A horrible thought struck her. “Nothing’s wrong with Sam?”

  “Nee, I’m just catching the same ride as you,” he assured her quickly. “I had to be in town and, if you don’t mind, I’m going to stop by and see Sam with you.”

  “No, I don’t mind.” She climbed into the van, said hello to the driver and other passengers, and settled into her seat.

  Abram climbed inside and shut the door then took the seat next to her. It was a little disconcerting—she’d never sat quite so close to him. He glanced at the bakery box she held carefully on her lap.

  Rachel Ann caught his glance of curiosity and hid her smile. Abram had quite a sweet tooth. She just bet he was wondering what was inside the box. And she had no doubt he’d be trying to get a bite of one of the cookies if she let him.

  Her parents were just leaving to get some coffee in the cafeteria when they arrived. “Our driver will be here in forty-five minutes to take us home,” Leroy told them as they left.

  “Sam, Abram and I are here to see you,” Rachel Ann announced as they entered the room.

  “Hi, Sam,” Abram said before he took one of the chairs beside the bed.

  Rachel Ann moved quickly to the bed and set the bakery box on the end of it. She leaned down, gave him a quick kiss on his chubby little cheek, and then took a seat. Reaching into her tote, she pulled out a book and opened it.

  “Sam, the nurse told me people can hear when they’re unconscious so I’m going to talk to you about Christmas,” she told Sam. “It’s coming up soon, Sam, and you’re going to want to be out of here and home so you can hear Daed read the story about Jesus and get your presents.”

  She glanced at Abram who’d quietly taken a seat on the other side of the bed.

  “I brought your story about the gingerbread boy, Sam.” She read the story, turning the pages and glancing at him occasionally to see if there was any change in his expression.

  “And that’s the story of the gingerbread boy,” she said, sighing as she finished and closed the book. “I brought you a surprise, Sam. Maybe you’d like to wake up and see it.”

  She opened the bakery box and lifted a cookie out of it. “Ah, Sam, you should see Abram looking at your cookie. It’s a gingerbread boy I baked just for you.” She waved it under his nose. “Smell it? It’s all sugar and spice and raisin eyes and gumdrop buttons. Yummy, Sam.”

  When there was no reaction, Rachel Ann turned to Abram and held out the cookie. “What do you think, Abram? Doesn’t it look like a delicious cookie? Bet you’d like to eat it. But it’s Sam’s cookie.”

  Then she realized Abram’s attention was focused totally on her. “You smell so good,” he said. “All sugar and spice.”

  “It’s from working in the bakery,” she said, a little disconcerted. Abram had never looked at her quite like this.

  She drew in a deep breath to steady herself and caught the scent of wood on him. It was a familiar scent—her father worked as a furniture maker and often smelled the same.

  But as they continued to stare at each other, he didn’t remind her of her father at all.

  “I—uh, do you want a cookie? I have more in the box.” She drew back and gestured at it.

  “Would love one. Danki.”

  She gave him the one in her hand just as her mother walked into the room.

  “What’s going on?” she asked, her gaze moving from the two of them sitting close to the box on Sam’s bed.

  “I just made some cookies and was telling Sam about them.”

  Martha moved closer. “There’s sugar on his cheek. You didn’t try to feed him any, did you? He could choke.”

  “Nee, of course not! I just waved it under his nose. The nurse said people who are unconscious can hear so I talked to him about Christmas.”

  “Yes, well, I don’t know I agree with her theory,” Martha said with a frown. She brushed at his cheek and straightened. “It’s time to go home.”

  Feeling chastened, Rachel Ann closed the bakery box and stood. “Bye, Sam. I’ll see you after work tomorrow.” She leaned down and kissed him, and several grains of sugar stuck to her lips. As she walked out of the room, salty tears mixed with the sugar on her tongue.

  * * *

  The trip home was silent.

  Rachel Ann and her parents looked exhausted as they climbed into the van, so Abram didn’t attempt to carry on a conversation with them. Other passengers seemed just as tired and didn’t talk much.

  Halfway home Rachel Ann’s head slid down to rest on her mother’s shoulder, and it appeared she fell asleep. Martha pulled back a little and murmured something Abram couldn’t hear, but Rachel Ann straightened and put a little distance between herself and her mother on the seat and didn’t nod off again.

  Abram ached for Rachel Ann. His mother had said her parents weren’t unloving, just a little preoccupied and, like many Plain folk, didn’t often show affection in public, and Martha had always seemed a little stern since she was a former teacher. But most of the passengers in the van were Amish and wouldn’t have thought anything of Rachel Ann asleep on her mamm’s shoulder. He’d seen other people nap on the ride to and from work. Work days were often long and hard, and travel to and from work added to them.

  He’d been up since before dawn and put in a long work day making furniture, but strangely, he felt energized. Part of it was because he didn’t often go into town and he’d never worked in the furniture shop. He’d enjoyed doing something
different and the company of other men engaged in the same work.

  They arrived home, and Abram’s mother came out onto the porch and waved to them. “There’s a nice supper waiting for you. Enjoy!”

  “Danki, Lovina,” Martha called.

  “I better do chores first,” Leroy said.

  Abram clapped him on the back. “Nee, you won’t. You go on in and eat supper, and I’ll take care of them.”

  He went into the barn and began feeding and watering the horses. Betty leaned over her stall and greeted him. Abram stopped to stroke her side. He’d swear she batted her eyelashes at him before rubbing the side of her face against his arm.

  “You two flirting again?”

  Abram turned to grin at Rachel Ann.

  “Here, I figured you’d want to have a treat for your special girl.” She held out a small apple.

  He laughed as the horse nudged him to take the apple. “Is she like this with your daed?”

  “Nee, just you. She knows she can charm you.”

  He found himself wishing he could charm her as easily as her father’s horse. “You didn’t have to bring this out here. You should be inside eating your supper.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “Did you eat too many Christmas cookies at the bakery?”

  She shook her head. “You don’t tend to do that when you’re preparing food. Not only is it unhygienic, you just lose interest in eating it when you’re exposed all day.”

  “It was one good gingerbread man.”

  He watched her smile bloom. “I’m glad you liked it. Wish Sam would have woken up and taken a bite of it.”

  “Soon,” he said. “Soon.”

  Her lips trembled. “You can’t promise that.” She sighed. “Well, thank you for doing Daed’s chores so he can rest.”

  “I’m happy to help.”

  She smiled. “Gut Abram.”

  Then she turned and left him, moving with her quiet grace.

  He gave the apple to Betty, walked out of the barn, and came to a stop when he saw Rachel Ann standing at the foot of the driveway talking to someone in a car. Michael. It was that Michael guy who had hit Sam with his car. He said something to Rachel Ann, and she turned and walked back to her house, went in for a minute, then came out again and got into Michael’s car.