by Amy Clipston
“Danki.” Mike looked relieved. “John needs someone he can count on.” He glanced over his shoulder at the house as if checking to make sure they were still alone. “The situation with mei dat is scary, and John needs to know he can depend on you,” he said softly. “You’re one of the most important adults in his life.”
“He can always depend on me.” Rachel said the words slowly to emphasize her commitment to them.
“Gut.”
Mike’s expression grew more serious, and Rachel suddenly felt something in the air shift between them. Was he attracted to her? Was that what his father had alluded to in the family room? Alarm bells blared in her mind. She couldn’t risk her heart again. Besides, he was the guardian of one of her students; therefore, a relationship with him would be inappropriate. She took a step back as if putting more space between them would snuff out the attraction she felt electrifying the air around them.
“You seem to have an amazing effect on mei dat too,” Mike continued, seemingly oblivious to the attraction she felt growing between them. “It’s been months since I’ve heard him chat and joke like he did during lunch today. He really likes you.”
“I enjoy talking with him,” Rachel said, hefting her tote bag higher on her shoulder. His father’s words echoed in her mind, and she was thankful she could help his family.
The rumble of an engine drew Rachel’s attention to the end of the driveway as her driver approached.
“That’s my ride,” she said, even though it was obvious.
“Thanks again for coming over,” he said. “Maybe you can come again next Saturday?”
“Ya,” she replied, at the same time wondering why he wanted her to come again. Was it only for John? Or was it so she could spend time with Mike and Raymond too?
Mike set the basket on the back floor of the van and then said hello to Rachel’s driver. Rachel hopped into the front passenger seat and smiled at him. “Enjoy the rest of your weekend.”
“You do the same.” Mike waved as the van rumbled down the driveway.
Rachel sucked in a breath and then smiled. She finally felt as if she were becoming friends with Mike, and she was grateful.
But she definitely did not want their friendship to become anything more.
CHAPTER 12
MIKE STOOD IN THE DRIVEWAY AS THE VAN STEERED TOWARD the road. Rachel had the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen. In fact, she was the prettiest girl he’d ever met with her dark hair and chocolate eyes.
He groaned, covering his face with his hands. Was he falling for her?
No, no, no!
He couldn’t allow himself to think that way about her. After all, she was John’s teacher, and Mike’s life was already too complicated with all his obligations. Besides, why would Rachel want to have a relationship with someone who was responsible for his father and younger brother?
Not that Mike even wanted to get married. Why would he even consider marriage at this point in his life? He had to worry about his father, not try to figure out how to be a good husband.
Mike shook off the thoughts of Rachel and marriage as he made his way back into the house. He found his father and brother talking in the family room.
“And I read the whole chapter,” John was saying. “She said I did a wunderbaar job. In fact, she said I’m going to be the top student in the class.”
Dat patted John’s arm. “You’re such a gut bu.”
Tender tears sparkled in his tired blue eyes, and Mike’s chest seized.
“I’m going outside,” John announced as he started toward the door. “I’m going to feed the chickens and then play on the swing set.” He disappeared through the kitchen.
“Don’t forget your jacket, John! It’s still cool out there.” Mike leaned on the doorframe and looked at his father. “Do you need anything?”
“No, I’m fine.”
Dat smiled.
“You know, Michael, Rachel is a wunderbaar maedel.”
Mike nodded, and a vision of her beautiful eyes filled his mind. He tried to ignore the memory, but it continued to haunt him.
“You should find out if she has a boyfriend,” Dat prodded.
“Dat,” Mike began with exasperation, “you know I don’t have time to date.” John had already confirmed Rachel didn’t have a boyfriend, but that didn’t matter. Mike had enough obligations to juggle.
“You shouldn’t be alone.” Dat’s smile crumpled with a look of concern.
“I’m not alone. How can I be alone with you and John here?” Mike tried to joke, but Dat didn’t smile again. “I’m fine, Dat. We need to be concerned with your health, not my social life. May I get you a glass of water?”
Dat cleared his throat. “Ya, that would be gut.”
Mike left to get the water and then returned.
“Danki.” Dat took a long drink and then placed the glass on the end table beside him. “I’m going to nap.”
Mike felt sadness swell inside of him. He remembered the days when Dat worked late in the evenings at the store. Some days Onkel Tim would have to insist Dat go home for supper. Perhaps Mike had gotten his stubbornness and workaholic tendencies from his father.
Mike missed the days when Dat was active and stubborn. Instead, he napped in his chair all afternoon from the exhausting combination of his kidney disease and dialysis.
“I’m going to clean up the kitchen,” Mike finally said. “Call if you need anything.”
As he stepped away, Mike again thought of Rachel. He would be honored to date a feisty, smart, and beautiful maedel like her, but he knew he wasn’t worthy of someone as special as she was. He was better off alone. This was where he belonged, and he was thankful for his dat and bruder.
“NOW I WANT TO HEAR YOU READ THIS CHAPTER ALOUD ALL by yourself,” Rachel said, pointing to the books. “I know you can do it.”
Mike stood by the fence and rested a hammer on the slat beside him. He’d been determined to fix the fence today, but he couldn’t stop his eyes from moving to the porch where Rachel worked with his brother. When John had shared that Rachel was going to come over to help him with his math and reading today, Mike actually smiled. He found himself thinking about her all week and hoping she would come over again this Saturday.
Why was he torturing himself with thoughts of her? She was only here to help John, not to get to know him.
John read the chapter aloud, clearly saying each word and only looking at Rachel for guidance once or twice. Whenever his young brother glanced up at Rachel, she gave him an encouraging smile and told him to try to sound out the word.
Mike tore his glance away from Rachel and John and began repairing the fence. He forced himself to put any thoughts of Rachel out of his head as he hammered in the posts.
After a while, he wiped his brow with his hand and glanced up at the sky. Dark clouds had been gathering all day, and the faint scent of rain drifted through the air.
After Mike finished repairing the fence, he stowed his tools in the barn and walked toward the porch, where John was working on a math worksheet. His tongue stuck out of his mouth and his brow was crinkled with concentration. Rachel looked up at Mike and smiled. He returned the expression as he tried to ignore the warmth rushing over him. He couldn’t allow himself to like her, but the feeling was overwhelming.
“I think I got it.” John pointed the pencil at the paper. “Is that right?”
“Ya!” Rachel clapped and then hugged his shoulders. “You got it, John. You’re doing fantastic.” She glanced up at Mike. “I need to see what time it is. I asked my driver to pick me up at three today.”
“Cancel your ride,” Mike said without thinking it through. She raised an eyebrow with surprise. “Stay for supper.”
“Ya!” John jumped up from the rocking chair. “Mike and I will cook for you since you’ve cooked so much for us.”
Rachel looked back and forth between them as if debating her response.
“Please stay,” John asked, his eyes pleading w
ith her.
“All right,” she said. “I’ll stay. I’ll just need to cancel my ride and let my family know I’m going to eat here.” She started toward the phone in the barn, then spun to face Mike, her black sweater fluttering around her slim body. “What time should I ask my driver to come by?”
“I’ll take you home.” The words slipped from Mike’s mouth before his brain had engaged. What would he discuss with her while they were alone in his buggy? Not only was it several miles, but it had been years since he’d taken a maedel home alone, and he was actually nervous. He felt as if he were eighteen again.
Rachel studied him with a hesitant expression before she nodded slowly. “Okay.”
“What are we making for supper?” John asked after Rachel disappeared into the barn.
“Pot roast.” Mike touched John’s straw hat. “Do you want to help me cut up the vegetables?”
John shrugged. “Sure.”
Mike walked into the kitchen with John in tow. Mike washed his hands and then pulled out the ingredients for the pot roast. He was grateful Marie had picked up all the supplies he needed when she did the grocery shopping on Friday while Dat was at the dialysis center.
“You can start peeling the potatoes if you’d like,” Mike said, placing potatoes on the counter. He fetched the peeler from a nearby drawer.
John pushed a chair over to the counter and stood on it. After washing his hands, he began trying to peel the potatoes. The peeler slid across the potato, and he narrowly missed slicing his fingers.
“Hang on a minute, buddy,” Mike called from the other side of the kitchen. “I’m trying to find the big pot. Janie said she put it in the pantry.”
John dropped the peeler on the counter and groaned. “I can’t do it.” He stomped his foot on the chair.
“May I help?” Rachel appeared behind John. “What are you trying to do?”
“Peel these potatoes, and it’s not working,” John whined. “The peeler is broken.”
Rachel looked as if she were trying to suppress a smile. She was adorable. “I don’t think the peeler is broken. Would you let me try?”
“Ya.” John handed her the peeler.
“Let’s try it this way.” Rachel leaned in close to John while she demonstrated how to use the peeler. “See? Now you try.”
Mike located the pot and lifted it from the bottom of the pantry. He brought it over to the sink and consulted the recipe in his mother’s favorite cookbook.
“What are we making?” Rachel asked.
“It’s mei mamm’s favorite pot roast recipe.” Mike pointed to the cookbook.
“I love pot roast.” She looked down at John. “Do you like pot roast?”
John’s head bobbed up and down. “Ya. Mike does a gut job when he makes it. It’s almost as gut as Marie’s pot roast.”
Mike shook his head, and Rachel laughed. He enjoyed the sound of her laugh, and the way her face lit up with her mirth.
Then she clamped a hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. Feel free to laugh at my expense.” Mike chuckled.
“You should laugh more,” she said. “You have a great smile.”
“Danki.” He admired her pretty face before she turned back to the potatoes.
They worked side by side as they discussed their favorite meals and desserts. Mike sliced the carrots and celery while Rachel and John finished the potatoes. Then Rachel quartered a large onion. Once the roast was cooking, Rachel helped Mike clean the counters.
“Could we have the rest of your chocolate pie for dessert?” John asked, sweeping the floor.
“Of course we can.” Rachel said, wiping the counter clean. “If I had known you wanted me to stay, I would’ve brought something else to share.”
“We don’t expect you to feed us all the time,” Mike said. “We’re just thankful you came to visit again.”
A crash sounded outside the window, and they all jumped.
Mike looked out the window just as lightning flashed. “Looks like we’re going to get our first spring storm. If Dat’s still asleep, I hope it doesn’t wake him up.”
Rain pounded on the windowpane as another clap of thunder sounded.
“Let’s play a game,” John suggested. “Hey, should I get Scrabble from the closet in the schtupp? We have the one they make for kids, Rachel! I think my reading is good enough now for me to play it.”
Mike glanced at Rachel and she nodded.
“That sounds like fun, and you’ll be practicing your spelling,” Rachel said. “We haven’t gotten to your spelling yet today.”
Mike grinned. She truly was a great teacher. “John, you grab the game, and I’ll check on Dat. I want to make sure he’s okay.”
Mike left the kitchen. When he peeked into Dat’s bedroom, he found him snoring.
For the next hour, the three of them laughed and joked as they played Scrabble. Mike silently marveled at how Rachel went out of her way to talk to John and help him. She almost seemed like his guardian angel.
When John grew tired of Scrabble, they moved to card games and continued to play as the thunder rumbled, the lightning sparked, and the rain beat against the windows. When the room grew dark, Mike gathered two Coleman lanterns and set them on the table. The aroma of the pot roast filled the kitchen as the afternoon wore on. Mike slipped a tray of dinner rolls into the oven and then put a pot of carrots on a burner beside the roast. He set the timer and then returned to their card game.
When the timer rang signaling that the rolls were ready, Mike stood. “I’m going to make a salad. Johnny, you put the game and cards away.”
“I’ll set the table,” Rachel offered, pushing her chair back. She located the dishes and utensils and began her task.
Mike set the roast on a serving platter and then gathered the ingredients for a salad.
“Let me help,” Rachel said, coming up beside him. “I can make the salad if you need to go help your dat get ready for supper.”
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“Of course I am. I’m an expert salad maker.” She chuckled, and he enjoyed the sound of her sweet laughter.
“Danki.” Mike padded into his father’s room and found him sitting in a chair beside the bed. “When did you get up?”
“A few minutes ago. The pot roast smells heavenly. My stomach was actually growling.” Dat pointed toward the wheelchair. “I thought I’d try to walk out to the kitchen, but my legs wouldn’t agree to it. I’ve been sitting here thinking about how to get over to the wheelchair.”
“Why didn’t you call me?” Mike asked, pushing the wheelchair over to his father. He stopped the chair and locked the wheels.
“I wanted to do it myself.” Dat looked determined. “I need to try to walk, don’t I? The doctor said I should do things for myself sometimes so I don’t lose all my strength.”
“That’s true, but I don’t want you to fall.” Mike took his father’s arm and lifted him. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
As Mike pushed the wheelchair toward the kitchen, they could hear John’s and Rachel’s voices.
“John, would you please put glasses and the pitcher of water on the table?”
Dat grinned up at Mike. “Is Rachel still here?”
Mike nodded. “Ya, I asked her to stay for supper.”
“Did you ask her to be your girlfriend yet?” Dat’s voice was hopeful, and Mike felt a twinge of annoyance.
“Shh. No, I haven’t asked her, and I’m not going to,” Mike whispered with a frustrated sigh. “She’s only my freind, and she’s John’s teacher.”
“Your mamm and I started out as freinden, and Vera and I were also freinden first.” Dat’s grin was back, but at least he lowered his voice. “That’s the best way to get to know each other before you get married.”
“No one is getting married. Right now we’re having supper.” Mike steered the chair toward the doorway. “Please stop talking about it, all right? Let’s just enjoy our supper.�
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“Fine, but you’ll marry her someday,” Dat said. “You heard it from me first.”
Mike swallowed his annoyance. Dat wanted the best for him and John, but marriage had to be the furthest thing from Mike’s mind right now.
“Raymond!” Rachel exclaimed as Mike pushed the chair into the kitchen. She placed the large salad bowl on the center of the table.
“It’s good to see you still here, Rachel.” Dat smiled at Rachel and then craned his neck to look up at Mike. Mike suppressed the urge to frown. He hoped Rachel didn’t read more into his father’s greeting than just a friendly hello.
“How are you feeling after your nap?” Rachel asked as she approached his wheelchair.
“Well, I was hoping to walk into the kitchen, but my weary old legs had other plans.” Dat shook her outstretched hand. “I’m froh you stayed for supper.”
Mike held his breath, hoping Dat wouldn’t ask her when the wedding was.
“Thank you for having me.” She gestured toward the table. “John and I have everything ready. I can’t wait to try that pot roast.”
Rachel sat down beside John and across from Mike as Raymond took his spot at the head of the table. After a silent prayer, they began filling their plates. They ate in silence for several minutes, and Mike wondered what he could say to start a conversation with Rachel.
“What is the most popular item you make at the store?” Rachel asked as she buttered a roll.
“Wishing wells,” Mike said, relieved she had saved him. “I make at least three every week during the spring and summer months.”
“Would you butter a roll for me?” John asked Rachel.
“Here you go.” She handed him her roll, which she had already buttered. “You can eat that one.” She smiled at him, and Mike found genuine love in Rachel’s eyes when she looked at his brother. The realization sent affection flowing through him and stole his ability to speak.
“So wishing wells are the most popular item at your store?” Rachel swiped another roll from the basket in the center of the table.
“That’s right,” Mike said when he found his voice again. “The large planters that look like baskets are always popular.”