“You need to take this.”
She nodded, accepting the pill and water he offered. “Thanks. I can’t believe I’m suddenly so weak.”
“I’m taking you to your room.” She pushed up with her arms to stand and flinched at the pain. “Like this.” Suddenly he swept her into his arms.
She gave a small gasp but didn’t argue because she needed his help. She would be immensely enjoying this if she wasn’t so sick.
“Sweet Carly,” he whispered near her ear. “Always helping others. Never taking care of yourself.”
“That’s not true,” she smiled, savoring his closeness.
Feeling protective, Adam lowered Carly on top of a yellow quilt, turned on the light and looked around the room.
“You shouldn’t be in here.”
She’d read his mind. For he was thinking about stretching out next to her and cradling her. “Probably not. But you know you’re safe with me.”
“Am I?”
He sank onto the bed beside her and started untying her shoes. He placed them on the floor, and when he returned, she’d removed her covering. Using restraint, he pulled back the covers for her and helped her get settled.
“Cocoa,” she mumbled.
He lifted the distraught rabbit to the foot of her bed. It grunted and hopped up to check out Carly’s face. After licking her, it hopped back to the foot of the bed and began nesting. Knowing he’d never get this image out of his head and relieved she hadn’t loosened her hair, he quickly stood. “I’ll fetch you a glass of water.” When he returned, she stirred.
“Thanks.”
“I’m going to lock your door and take your key. I’ll give it to your aunt when I stop by to tell her you’re sick. So don’t be alarmed if she lets herself in during the night.”
“Late,” Carly sighed. “Better go.”
He hesitated. Then leaned down and kissed her brow. “Get better, sweetheart.”
Carly drifted in and out of sleep, trembling and unable to find warmth even beneath the pile of covers Auntie had piled atop her yellow quilt. Wild dreams of anything but sugarplums danced through her head, one reoccurring. There was a chasm, and Sweet Life was perched on a cliff on the other side. It was too far for her to leap across, and she knew the only way to reach the other side was to fly. A myriad of winged sinister beings and beautiful beings offered their assistance to fly her across the gorge. She knew she needed to choose wisely, and she struggled with this decision throughout the night chills and sweats. The residents needed her, and at times they cheered her on, but she knew she was failing them. Until one of the winged beings took on Adam’s image. She ran to him. “Are you sure we can fly?”
“Trust me.”
But always she awoke before flying across the gorge.
At last she awakened to the touch of a cold wet cloth on her brow. Slowly, she opened her eyes. “Auntie.”
“Here, drink this.”
The cool water felt good against her cracked lips. “You came.”
“Of course. When Adam told me how sick you were, I came right away. But you had a rough night of it.”
She pushed damp hair away from her face. “What time is it?”
“About nine o’clock.”
“I’m late for work.”
Auntie chuckled. “I called Sherie. Don’t think I’m letting you go to work. Not after all that mumbling about the Death Angel.”
Bits of her jumbled dreams came to mind. “Thanks. I kept having this weird dream.” She shared the bits she could remember.
“How dreadful. I’m thankful it was just a dream. You had me worried. Let’s look at your arms.”
As she stretched them out for Auntie’s examination, she was amazed how weak she felt.
“They don’t look good.”
Carly understood the reason for her frightening dream. “Did Adam tell you Dot was missing?”
“Jah. That she was just under her bed.”
“She told me she was hiding from the Death Angel. That his eyes were evil.”
“Of all things!” Auntie exclaimed.
“I don’t know how to help her.”
“You must remember that we all choose the paths for our lives. Dot’s had a lifetime to deal with her fears. Everything intensifies in old age. Now it has her in bondage. That’s why a person needs to grow in the Lord along the way.”
“But you can’t blame Dot. It’s her dementia.”
“I’m sure it plays a big part in Dot’s problems. I’m just saying you can’t fix everything.”
“She has always depended upon Crusher. Now she lives alone.”
“The Lord was good to allow Crusher to be there for her.”
Carly nodded and took the pill that Auntie offered.
“That rabbit’s been a mess. Thumping. Nudging and nipping me. Tell me what it needs.”
Carly laughed. “Cocoa’s worried about me, and he missed his hay last night. But he should be satisfied with pellets.”
“Well it isn’t, because I tried that.”
After explaining that the hay was in a box between her bike and the woodpile, she snuggled against a fresh pillowcase, feeling drowsy.
The next time she opened her eyes, she was alone. But she could hear the clattering of pots and pans, grateful Auntie was making herself at home. She slowly sat up and moved to the side of her bed. In the kitchen, Auntie was bent over the stove.
“That smells good.”
“You want to lay on the couch?”
Carly nodded, and Auntie rushed to get her a pillow and covers. “Your neighbor lady saw me outside this morning and wondered if you were all right. So I told her you were sick. We got to talking, and she ended up bringing me this chicken to make soup.”
“She keeps an eye out for me. Waters for me sometimes and tells me when I forget to put on my covering. That kind of stuff.”
Auntie gave her a horrified expression which quickly turned into a grin.
“Sorry if the cupboards are kinda bare. I only get what fits in my bike basket. But it’s enough for me.”
“Not that bare. I found the noodles!” Auntie smiled. “You’ve got it nice here. Except for that pesky rabbit.”
Later, after having some of the soothing chicken noodle soup, Carly told Auntie how Sherie wanted her to make cold calls using a script. Auntie slapped the counter with a dish towel and mumbled under her breath. Then she joined Carly at the table.
“Do you want to be involved with the volunteers?”
“Jah.”
“If you do as she asks, maybe she’ll give you the responsibility you want.”
“I suppose. I’ve tried to forgive, but it’s hard.”
“Always is. But I’ve never known you to hold a grudge before. It’s not like you.”
“I’ve never wanted anything so badly before.”
Auntie laughed. “You have. The difference is, you usually get your way.”
Shocked, Carly asked, “You think I’m spoiled?”
“Jah. We both are.”
“I’m selfish, too. Have you been working on your quilt patterns?”
“Of course. I’m not letting one measly editor quash my dream.”
“Then I’m not letting one measly director quash mine.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
On Sunday, Carly stayed home from church to recuperate, determined to return to work on Monday. Though she’d rather tend her garden, her weakness kept her inside. She dug out the cozy mystery novel Miranda had loaned her. She’d started it one evening when she couldn’t sleep but had put it aside because she wasn’t sure if solving a murder was appropriate reading for a nonresistant believer. But boredom had driven her to get it out again. Now she was into the story and had to find out who had killed Lady Elizabeth and stuffed her in the maid’s trunk.
Cocoa suddenly stilled, alert and listening. When the doorbell rang, he leapt off the couch and hopped under the table, one of his favorite hiding places. Setting aside the novel, Carly went to the doo
r.
“Adam!”
He wore an irresistible but sheepish grin. “You’re looking better.”
“Come in.” She felt suddenly self-conscience with the memory of him carrying her to her room and tucking her in bed. Kissing her forehead. Had she dreamed he’d called her sweetheart? She quickly turned so he couldn’t read her expression.
He went to the couch, and she took the chair. “I’m much better. Thanks for everything the other night.”
“I’ve been worried about you.”
She shrugged. “No need. Auntie filled me with pills and chicken soup.”
“Your arms?”
Her face heated. “Better.”
“I talked to your aunt in church.” He appeared restless.
“Did I miss anything good?”
“Just a sermon on forgiveness.”
Carly sighed. “I should’ve been there.”
“Jah. It was one I needed for sure.” He seemed introspective, then turned his dark gaze on her and spoke with tenderness. “Just wanted to see you, I guess.” Her breath caught as they looked into each other’s eyes and read the yearning. Then he shifted his gaze across the room. “You have a nice place here.”
“I’m lucky the owner let me fix it up.”
“My sisters try to fix up my old house. They take turns cleaning it.”
“I’m sure they spoil you. Must be nice.”
Grinning widely, he said, “It is. I like to be spoiled.”
She wondered how a wife would ever compete with that or if she would even want to, then she quickly cast the thought away. Cocoa had hopped over and now sniffed his shoes. Adam gently lifted him to the couch beside him.
“He doesn’t usually like people to lift him.”
“We made friends the other night.”
“You have any pets?”
“Nope. I like animals, I’m just not home enough to care for them.”
“Rabbits are easy. They have some sort of hierarchy. Cocoa thinks he’s higher than me. I’m his slave, and he gets impatient when I don’t respond quickly.”
“I noticed. You spoil the rabbit like you do the residents.”
“I suppose.” She’d probably spoil Adam, too. Her cheeks burned as she tried to shake off the thought.
He picked up the mystery novel with a sinister-looking baron on the cover and grinned accusingly. “What’s this?”
“Miranda loaned it to me. Said I had to read it because the hero was such a hottie.”
He chuckled. “That sounds like her.” He studied the cover. “So she likes them dark and handsome?”
A pang of jealousy sharpened her tone. “I guess.”
“And you?”
“Jah. And mysterious,” she added.
“Guess that leaves me out. You read me like a dog-eared prayer book.”
“Hardly.” But she could solve one mystery right away. “Miranda asked me if you were off limits.”
“So? Am I?”
“You weren’t when she asked,” she replied softly, embarrassed by the hope that strained her voice.
“You don’t need to worry about her. Anyway, right now I’m too busy to think about anything but work. That’s one reason I stopped by. Simon’s postponing the woodworking classes until after Christmas.”
Her heart sank to think she wouldn’t be seeing him around the center, but it sang joyfully to hear him downplay Miranda. “At least you have Sundays off. Don’t most tree farms stay open on weekends?”
“Jah, but we make up the sales by our good name.”
“Everybody knows Mennonites are hard workers.” Amusingly, she referred to an old Mennonite saying.
“Jah, but I meant the Lapp name. Our farm’s been around for several generations. Our customers know we don’t sell diseased trees that prematurely shed needles. Like some farmers.”
“What do you do with the bad ones?”
“We don’t tag them and later toss them on a burn pile.”
“You roast hotdogs and have a party?”
“No, but that sounds fun.” He studied her carefully. “Dad offered me a partnership in the business. Said after Christmas, he’s even changing the sign out front.”
“Adam! That’s wonderful.”
“I know. If only he wasn’t using it to control… some other things.”
“Oh,” she said with sympathy. “You’ll work it out.”
His expression softened. “So if you need anything, there’s still Sundays.”
“I’m stuck regarding Martha’s old boyfriend. Did you talk to your cousin?”
“Jah. But he didn’t come up with any leads for us.”
Carly voiced a concern that had been troubling her. “How can somebody forget a boyfriend’s last name? Especially when she only had two boyfriends. James and John.”
“That you know of. Maybe she intentionally blocked him out after she married John.”
“Maybe. I guess we’re at a dead end. Now Dot has me worried, too.” She didn’t want to tell him about her own feverish nightmare.
“Maybe the volunteer program will help.”
She nodded and grew reflective.
After a moment, Adam stood. “I should go.”
She followed him to the door where he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Just keep being you, and everything will work out fine.”
“Thanks.”
“Remember to call if you need me.” He teased, “I can always send one of my sisters.”
She stood at the door and waved as he backed out of the drive.
Afterward, she found it hard to get back into her novel. Instead she rehashed their conversation. When she came to the part about the volunteers, she realized God was making it clear by verifying His will three times. First Auntie encouraged her to get involved in the program, then the sermon was on forgiveness. Now Adam brought up the volunteer program. Frustrated, Carly knew what she had to do.
The black dog bared his teeth but, instead of picking up momentum, seemed to be falling back. A thunder clap rent the air just as Carly sent the stick flying. It leapt and caught it midair, but when it landed, its hind legs collapsed and it sank to the ground panting. Skidding her bike to a stop, Carly stared at the dog. It wasn’t attempting to rise. Another thunder clap cracked. But the dog didn’t move. Oh, no. She saw something new in its eyes. Fear? Pain? Lowering her kickstand, she ventured a few steps closer. “Nice dog. Good doggie.” She needed to get it back on its feet.
He lay growling, but more of a warning growl than a vicious one. “This exercise is getting too strenuous for an old pup like you.” She went back to her bike and got her sandwich. Then she slowly advanced. It gave another warning growl, then sniffed the air. She stopped and lay it on the ground, hurrying back to her bike. She rode several yards then stopped to watch. It dropped the stick, wobbled to its feet and inhaled the meat in one swallow. Then it retrieved its stick, gave her a triumphant look and limped slowly back to its porch.
“You did good,” she called, then muttered, “Poor thing. At least it’s back to its porch with the storm coming.” Gazing at the black sky, she peddled harder and wondered if in the future she should poke the stick through some meat before she tossed it. But this fragile relationship had started with her tossing him her lunch. She’d be foolish to get back in that routine. Poor old dog. Still, it looked well fed even if she’d never seen any interaction between the dog and its master.
As she reached the center, it began to rain, and she walked her bike under a covered sidewalk past the maintenance room, stopping to chat with Rocco.
He grinned. “I brought two rain jackets today. One for me and one for you. I see you came unprepared.”
He was right. Her wool coat wasn’t waterproof. “Thanks. You’re a godsend.”
He tossed an unopened bag containing the raincoat into her bike basket. “I know how to take care of my girls.”
“How’s your wife and your daughter?”
“Very good. My Trish, she loves school this
year. And Dana is happy with her housecleaning jobs. She cooks me a fine meal every night, and I’m happy.” Then his face turned stern. “Except not so much today. The laundry room’s leaking again. Something always leaks around here when it rains. I’ll be busy.”
“But not wet,” she joked. “That’s good to hear about your family. But this rain will probably affect the residents’ moods. I’d better go.”
“Make it a good day,” he called.
“You, too, Rocco.”
Placing her bike on the rack, she grabbed her lunch and rain jacket, punched the code in the double glass doors, and hurried inside.
Besides the usual “Hello! Hello!” a gravelly voice greeted her. “Wondered if you’d get caught in the rain.”
“Oh! You scared me. How’s Magnificent this morning?”
“She’s sad it’s raining. I came to cheer her.” Dot whispered, “She’s jealous since I got Birdie, so I visit her as much as I remember.” She looked contrite. “Sometimes I forget. What are you carrying?” Dot trailed after Carly as she took her supplies to the staff room. She placed her apple in the refrigerator and hung up her coat. “You missed it. We had gravy and biscuits this morning for breakfast.”
Knowing they hadn’t had breakfast yet, Carly smiled. “Bet that was yummy.”
Dot got a faraway look. “Yes, Crusher’s favorite. Where’d he go anyway? You seen him?” Holding up the packaged bag, Carly tried to divert her attention. “Rocco gave me this rain jacket. Wasn’t that thoughtful? Did you know I ride my bike to work? You’d like it. It’s pink with a wicker basket.”
Dot tried to assimilate all this new data. “I missed you.”
Carly loved the moments when Dot spoke with clarity. “I was sick.”
“I know. Martha and I prayed for you.”
Her eyes stung. “You did? I guess God answered, because here I am.”
Thunder shook the building, and Carly noticed the wary glances of those gathering for breakfast. Dot moved to the glass patio door and peered at the downpour. She started to sing in an eerie voice: “Water in the gutter. Water in the street. Water, water, water, wetting people’s feet.”
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