Rachel's Dream

by Lisa Jones Baker

  She grinned at the tone he used. It was kind of … goofy.

  “What else do you like about me, Rachel?”

  The unexpected question caught her off guard. She drew in a breath while she contemplated an answer. She was open with Jarred and had been from the moment she’d met him, but there were reasons for that. He had helped her beloved Cinnamon. He made her feel at ease. From their first meeting, she’d sensed that she could speak her mind, and no matter what was on it, he would respect her opinion and not pass judgment.

  She suddenly realized that he awaited an answer and lifted her shoulders with newfound confidence. “What else do I like about you?”

  Without responding, he held her gaze before returning his focus to the road.

  She held out her fingers, cleared her throat, and lifted her chin a notch. “Where do I start? Who knows? There might be too many to name!”

  They laughed.

  She ticked off a short list. “You’re down-to-earth. Caring. Kind to animals.” She lowered her voice. “And to children. When I watched you with kids today, I was thinking what a great daddy you’ll make.”

  His jaw dropped. A long, thoughtful silence passed. The only sound was the clomp clomping of hooves against the black top and the light creaking of the large buggy wheels.

  Finally, he broke the silence. He turned to look at her. “Were you really?”

  She crossed her arms over her lap and offered a firm nod. “Uh-huh.” She softened her voice. “But that must not come as a surprise. You’re a natural with kids. They relate to you. And vice versa.”

  He guided Cinnamon closer to the ditch to allow a car to go by them. The driver of the vehicle waved, and Jarred and Rachel returned the friendly gesture. After the Buick passed, they returned to the middle of the road.

  Rachel closed her eyes to better appreciate the steady rhythm of Cinnamon’s trot. The scent of horse that was on her clothes. The soft caress of the seat’s velvety material at the nape of her neck.

  When Jarred glanced at her, emotion touched his voice. “Kids bring out the dreamer in me, Rachel. Today, while I told them about animals and how to care for them, the animal shelter I’m planning became a stronger image in my mind. I always wanted it to happen, but seeing kids and their obvious love for pets makes me want my dream more than ever.”

  He drew in a slow, steady breath before releasing it. “It’s what Matt would have wanted me to do.”

  “Your hope will come true, Jarred. I know it will. Pray every night. And I’ll do the same.”

  “I was thinking …”

  As the front wheel hit a pothole, they bounced in their seats. Automatically, they laughed.

  “Things like today play an important role in shelters everywhere. Really, if people understand animals, they’ll be comfortable with them. Give them love. Treat them well. And when you think about it, Rachel, in the grand scheme of things, being educated greatly affects the number of shelters.”

  Pressing her lips in a straight line, she considered his philosophy. Several heartbeats later, she offered a firm nod. “Jah. I get it. What you’re saying is that the more people know about pets, the fewer the pets that will end up without homes.”

  “Exactly. People will offer them better care if they know how to. Unfortunately, though, that takes money.” He gave a quick shake of his head. “Folks have trouble covering their own medical bills, so it’s even more of a strain on their pocketbooks to provide their pets with medical necessities because that green stuff comes from their own wallets. Of course, there are different types of insurance …”

  He chuckled and eyed her. “But you wouldn’t know about that.”

  “Oh, yeah. I know all about insurance, even though we Amish don’t purchase it.”

  He veered Cinnamon to the right again as they encountered another horse and buggy. Rachel and Jarred waved to the Mast family before returning to the center of the blacktop.

  While the Kauffman home loomed in the distance, Rachel lowered her voice and looked at Jarred from beneath her eyelashes. “When you go to Ohio, you and Cinnamon will leave a huge void.”

  As she awaited a response, a wave of emotional agony flooded her until she thought it would overcome her. A fierce pounding in her temples prompted her to press the area above her eyes to ease the sudden pain.

  Surely Jarred would say something to make her feel better. Things would surely be okay. Look at the glass as half-full.

  His lack of response made her longing to be with him even stronger. Why had God put her with him knowing they couldn’t stay together?

  *

  Rachel’s dream was falling apart. As she hollered for Old Sam, she seriously considered her situation with Jarred. “Old Sam!”

  “I’m here, Rachel. Come see what I’ve finished.”

  Quick steps took her to his workbench, where he proudly displayed a new hope chest lid. As she took in the carving in oak, her jaw dropped with a combination of surprise and great admiration.

  “Sam, it’s your most beautiful work yet!”

  “Ah, young one. Just wait till you hear the story behind it.”

  Suddenly forgetting her dilemma, she claimed her seat opposite him and continued to take in the precise detail that was etched so beautifully into wood.

  “A couple in Indiana ordered a hope chest for their firstborn child. Apparently, they’d been told they couldn’t have children.”

  “Oh!”

  “So when Callie, the wife, learned she was pregnant, she and her husband considered their baby boy a miracle.”

  “What did they name the baby?”

  “Chance.”

  Rachel imagined being told that she couldn’t have children and drew her brows together into a frown. “Old Sam, it would be horrible to not have kids. I’d be devastated.”

  “Oh, but this couple had faith, Rachel. Despite the bad news, they continued to pray for offspring.”

  “Just like I prayed for Cinnamon to get well.”

  Sam nodded. “Rachel, there isn’t a situation in the world that God can’t handle.” He paused. “Unfortunately, when we get right down to it, we can’t control most of what happens in our lives.”

  She gave thought to his statement before finally offering a nod of agreement. “I guess you’re right, Sam.”

  “When you think about it, faith is all that can save us when we have so little say in what happens. What we do have control over, though, is how we react.”

  “Sam, I’m not sure what I’d do if I couldn’t have babies.”

  He gave a shake of his head before following it with a dismissive shrug. “You would pray for strength and believe in God’s purpose for you. And you would trust in Him to guide your life.”

  After considering Sam’s take on her destiny, she acknowledged that he was right. When it came down to it, producing children was all a part of God’s plan.

  He chose the size, the eye color, the gender, even the time of the little one’s arrival into the world, provided that the delivery was natural. The mother didn’t have a say about any of these things. All a mamma could do was pray for a healthy child and do her best to eat right.

  That statement prompted Rachel to straighten. “I’m so glad I talked with you, Sam. I’m ashamed to say that I lost faith for a while.”

  He looked at her to continue.

  She went on to talk about Jarred’s parents’ offer and Jarred asking Rachel to move out of state with him. They’d discussed it before, but now the situation was even closer to materializing.

  Then she crossed her arms and shook her head. “Sam, I’m ashamed that I didn’t trust God enough to take care of this for me.”

  His brows drew together with uncertainty. “Did you forget what the doctor did for Cinnamon?”

  “No, of course not. But I think I got so overwhelmed at trying to fix how to be with Jarred, I forgot to have faith in God.”

  Sam chuckled.

  “Rachel, I suggest you hand your entire situation over t
o God. He helped me get through the deaths of Esther and my sons. He’ll surely help you to be with the man you love.”

  “I’ll keep praying, because God creates miracles.”

  *

  Jarred waved to the real estate agent who was backing out of his drive. Before the patio door clicked shut, his stray cat came from nowhere and slipped into the house, quickly making his way to the corner of the kitchen as if that particular spot on the cushion had been his forever.

  To Jarred’s happiness, the cat had put on weight. Soon, when he became tamer, Jarred would vaccinate him and give him a shampoo.

  Jarred chuckled at the cat’s adaptability to the home. He spoke in a low, gentle tone so as not to frighten the animal. “We’ve been roommates nearly all summer, and you still don’t have a name.” As Jarred’s gaze locked with the set of beautiful, piercing green eyes, he pressed his pointer finger to his chin and considered what to call the golden creature.

  “I’ll name you for your eye color. How ’bout Jade?” A quick shake of his head followed. “Or is that a girl’s name?”

  Jarred looked more closely at the color and decided. “Jade can be either male or female. And looking at the shade of your eyes, there’s no other option. Settled.”

  As Jade got comfortable on his pillow, Jarred offered a nod of satisfaction. He cut up pieces of cold chicken and placed them in the metal bowl next to the cushion.

  “Don’t worry, I’m taking you to Ohio. You’ll never go hungry again. Cinnamon’s coming, too.” He hesitated. “Now all I’ve got to do is to convince Rachel to join us.”

  As soon as Jarred stepped away, the golden animal swished his tail and gobbled down the meat. Jarred considered the day’s appointments as he removed salmon from the refrigerator and pulled the plastic off before sliding the fillet into a skillet and adding olive oil.

  The day had been filled with routine checkups, vaccinations, and general questions. To his surprise, there hadn’t been an emergency. Still, some of his patients struggled. Jarred kept a prayer list of those needing God’s miraculous hand. He recalled his own horse’s blessing of survival.

  He contemplated the loving, generous gift from Rachel while he sprinkled lemon pepper onto the fish and reduced the heat to medium. She’d given him what was most precious to her. And in return, he was leaving the area with her beloved horse. How could he do that to her?

  He frowned, covered the skillet with a glass lid, and took a seat at his table to review the real estate agent’s paperwork. He stared at the black print in front of him, but all he could see was Rachel’s face.

  His heart warmed while he envisioned her kind, flawless smile. The warmth that emanated from her eyes. The optimism in her soft, gentle voice. Her decision to stay in Illinois had taken him by surprise. He’d talked himself into believing that she would go with him.

  At the same time she’d declined his offer, she’d confessed her love for him. But didn’t true love mean making sacrifices?

  He could ask the same of himself. It was just that he’d been without family for so many years. Now he finally had them back, except for Matt—but memories of Jarred’s brother came alive in their childhood home.

  The slogan in bold print at the top of the page caught his attention: WE HELP MAKE NEW MEMORIES.

  He leaned back and stretched his legs. Holding the paper in front of him, he focused on those five words: WE HELP MAKE NEW MEMORIES.

  As the oil popped in the skillet, Jarred laid the paper down on the table and stepped to the stove to lift the pan’s lid and turn the fish. After adding more lemon pepper, he covered the pan and sat back down.

  Memories. He’d never really given a lot of thought to the word, but right now, they seemed to dictate his life. Isn’t this why I’m moving? To be with memories of Matt and me?

  He pressed his lips together and continued to study the slogan that practically shouted at him. Rachel must have so many memories with her sisters and parents. He lifted the corners of his lips. The girl had been blessed.

  Jarred plated his dinner and sat down to eat. He said a quick prayer, but the simple statement about memories stuck in his mind. Jarred barely tasted the seasoned fillet as he continued to think about Rachel. Wasn’t her decision to remain in Illinois a true test of her love for him? On the other hand, didn’t it challenge his love for her?

  The real estate agency’s slogan was supposed to promote excitement and hope for the future. For some reason, it didn’t. Why not?

  Chapter Sixteen

  Rachel yawned as she ran a duster over the stairway. She’d nearly finished her day’s chores and looked forward to writing in her journal.

  As she made her way down the uncarpeted steps, brushing them with her feather wand, she contemplated what to write and how to accept being so far away from the man she loved.

  She was sure there was no magic solution. At the same time, there must be a way to cope with the situation.

  As she looked up, her gaze fixed on the large paper commemorating her parents’ wedding. The framed gift had come from one of Rachel’s aunts.

  Rachel regarded her father’s and mother’s neatly printed names, the six witnesses who’d attended, and the date and address of the Christian ceremony. She took in the bouquets of roses sketched in pencil around the borders. In the lower right corner was a small clock that ticked softly, barely audible.

  For long, thoughtful moments, she sat on the step opposite the large oak frame and wrapped her arms around her knees. While she watched the second hand make its way around the numbers, she moved her fingers to her chin and allowed her imagination to travel to the day when she’d glimpse her own wedding paper.

  Leaning forward, she brought her knees closer to her chest, her attention still on the beautiful gift. Will I be married like Mamma? Will hundreds of people be at my wedding? I’d love to spend the rest of my life with Jarred and raise a family with him. But if he moves to Ohio, how can that happen? I can’t give up. She focused on the three parts of her dream.

  She stood, let out a sigh, and sprayed Murphy’s wood soap on the banister. She closed her eyes a moment to relish the fresh, clean smell. A smile tugged the corners of her lips when she took in the pleasant scent. The cleaning polish competed with the enticing, mouthwatering aroma of Mamma’s yeast bread rising in the oversized porcelain mixing bowl on the kitchen countertop.

  Rachel’s thoughts were divided between the dust, the hot rolls, and her last conversation with Old Sam. What he’d said about most occurrences being out of her control made her press her mouth closed in doubt. If that were truly the case, she really didn’t have much control of her life.

  But you can control your reactions. And God rewards the faithful.

  The door opened, and Mamma stepped inside with her lint brush in hand. “The buggy seats needed a good cleanin’. With the produce and canning, I’ve gotten behind.”

  As soon as the door clicked shut, her mother’s cheerful voice continued. “Honey, there’s more peppers ready for pickin’. And tomatoes. Good thing your father planted some late plants.”

  Her voice began to fade, and Rachel heard the faucet in the hall. She knew her mother was washing her hands.

  When the water turned off, Rachel raised her voice so Mamma could hear. “Okay, Mamma. I’ll get to them next.”

  She didn’t encourage further conversation. How little control she had of things disturbed her to the point that she had to turn to Old Sam’s familiar advice: Look at the glass as half-full.

  Have faith. God is in charge of your life. As she stood and ran her duster up the banister, she turned to find herself face-to-face with Mamma. To Rachel’s astonishment, her mother’s brows drew together in skepticism, making a serious wrinkle above her nose.

  “Rachel, you feelin’ okay? You look a little washed out.” She stepped closer and pressed her palm against Rachel’s forehead. “You’re not comin’ down with a fever, are you?”

  She grabbed Rachel’s duster and laid it on the st
air. “This can wait. Let’s sit down. I’ll make a cup of hot tea.” Mamma put one hand on Rachel’s back. With her free arm, she motioned to the sofa.

  “I’m okay, Mamma. Really.”

  Her mother was too perceptive. Obediently, Rachel plopped down on the couch and stretched her legs. She rested her head against the soft, oversized cushion and got comfortable.

  While Rachel looked straight ahead at the fireplace and the battery-run clock above it, her mother slipped away. Barely noting the even ticking, Rachel contemplated her situation and let out an uncertain sigh.

  Moments later, the spicy aroma of hot tea joined the other pleasant smells. Her mother handed Rachel the cup. “Sip it slowly, honey. It’s hot.”

  Rachel didn’t argue. She sat up straighter, squared her shoulders, and forced a hopeful smile. The last thing she wanted was to worry Mamma. Her mother had enough on her plate already.

  Three of her young grandchildren were teething. While Hannah seemed to be doing fine, Rachel’s father had a sore throat. And Mamma was trying to keep up with new aprons for the little ones on her old Singer sewing machine.

  Rachel turned to meet her mom’s inquisitive gaze. Rachel was certain that the comforting hand she placed on Rachel’s wrist was intended to calm her, but she could feel her mother’s fingers shaking.

  An ache filled the pit of Rachel’s stomach. She loved her parents so much and wished with all of her heart that everything could be 100 percent perfect. But she knew it wasn’t possible, not even close.

  Sam’s theory about most things being out of our control floated through Rachel’s mind, prompting her to draw her brows together in skepticism.

  She looked down at the steam that rose from the cup and then quickly dissipated. If only the spiced beverage could cure every concern. Mamma believed it did.

  As far as dealing with obstacles, Rachel considered herself a rational human being. Even though Sam had coached her to always view the positive, she tried to keep things in perspective and to not expect too much.

  But she had a dream. She closed her eyes and focused on her longing. She believed that Jarred had been planted in her life to rescue Cinnamon. She was also sure that God had put him here to play a prominent role in her dream. She opened her eyes. Unfortunately, barricades blocked the way.