The Amish Nurse's Suitor (Amish 0f Serenity Ridge Book 2)

by Carrie Lighte

  It wasn’t until ten thirty when he caught a glimpse of Rachel dipping a piece of a sticky bun into her coffee that Arden realized he’d forgotten the lunch his sister packed for him. His mouth watered. Rachel glanced up, and he hastily averted his eyes. For the past couple days, he’d been careful not to even comment about the weather in her presence, lest she take it as an invitation to strike up a longer conversation. She must have noticed him looking at her now and interpreted that as a sign he wanted to chat, because she dipped the last piece of the bun into her cup, popped the dripping morsel into her mouth and then sauntered in his direction as she licked a dab of icing from her upper lip. Arden’s stomach growled. It was going to be a long day without any sustenance to tide him over.

  “You’re making gut progress,” she said about the coop.

  “Jah, but the customer wants to pick it up on Saturday, which means I need to finish building it by tomorrow morning or else the paint won’t dry,” he replied. He stammered when he added, “W-would you, uh, b-be willing to help?”

  “Me?” Rachel’s voice squeaked with disbelief. Arden knew he shouldn’t have asked; when she’d volunteered to paint the playhouse, it was probably a onetime offer only.

  “Nev-never mind. Y-you don’t have to. I thought because you s-s-said there wasn’t enough for you to do you wouldn’t mind. And you did such a g-gut job painting the playhouse,” he stuttered.

  “Oh—you want me to paint it!” The tiny scar on Rachel’s cheekbone leaped higher with her smile. “When you asked for my help, I thought you meant you wanted me to help you build the coop. I’m hallich to paint it—I’ll do any work around here that doesn’t involve swinging a hammer, using a saw or wielding a drill. What color does the customer want it painted?”

  Delighted by Rachel’s response, Arden grinned. “You’ll never guess.”

  “Please don’t say lavender.”

  “Neh. Guess again.” Despite being pressed for time, Arden was in no hurry to have their conversation end.

  She guessed turquoise, yellow and pink before giving up.

  “Eggshell white.” He kept a straight face as he waited for her reaction.

  “Oh. White’s no so bad—” she started to say before she got the joke. “Eggshell white for a chicken coop. Voll schpass!” When she tipped her head back in laughter, her hair spilled over her shoulders and down her back. Amish women sometimes wore their long hair loose at home in the evening, so Arden had seen locks of all different textures and colors, but never had he so closely beheld hair as lustrous as Rachel’s. As she moved, he caught a whiff of coconut mingled with...almond? Hunger clawed at his stomach.

  “Actually, the family wants red, like a barn. They wanted the inside painted, too. They claimed a dark color is more conducive for the hens to lay than natural wood, but that’s where I drew the line. I don’t have the time, and I’m concerned the chickens will end up pecking the paint off anyway. They were awfully disappointed when I said neh.”

  “Who, the family or the poultry?” Rachel was tipping her head coyly to one side, clearly teasing him.

  “Probably both.” Arden was so at ease he didn’t have to think about what to say or how to say it—his words and jokes were flowing readily.

  “Jah, everyone knows what high expectations those Englisch chickens can have. You’re just fortunate they didn’t ask you to wallpaper the inside of their coop,” she replied. When Arden stopped laughing, Rachel added, “I’m actually being serious. I know some Englischers who wallpapered the inside of their coops. They used vinyl wallpaper, like the kind people use to line their drawers, because they say it makes cleaning the coop a lot easier.”

  Arden shrugged. “That wouldn’t be my choice, but if it’s what they want to do, who am I to convince them otherwise?”

  He picked up his hammer and got back to work, but inwardly he was savoring their exchange. It occurred to him Rachel not only had a terrific sense of humor, but her work ethic was as diligent as any Amish woman’s he’d ever known. And most of those women would have chewed him out something fierce for ruining their paint job the way he’d ruined hers the other day, but she found it comical. Colin is too hard on her, Arden realized once again. Rachel might not be Amish anymore, but she’s a gut woman.

  * * *

  Who knew taciturn Arden could be so humorous? Rachel swallowed the rest of her lukewarm coffee and set the cup back on her desk. She was glad to have another painting project to complete, and now that Arden was warming up to her again, she hoped things around the workshop wouldn’t continue to be so dreadfully dull.

  After taking a quick peek at her phone to confirm she hadn’t received an email from the MSN program yet, Rachel spent the rest of the morning rechecking the figures in the ledger. One of the few comments Arden had made to her on Tuesday was that he was concerned there might not be enough funds in the business account to cover Ivan’s hospital bill. But after reviewing the ledger twice, Rachel was confident they could withdraw the amount in full and still have a few thousand dollars left over.

  She was about to break for lunch when a tall, redheaded Englischer entered the shop and introduced himself as Chris Jones, the hardware and tool supplier for the business. There was something familiar about him, but he didn’t show any sign of recognition when Rachel told him her name, so she concluded she must have seen him in passing at the grocery store or maybe in church on Sunday.

  “I was on my way to Unity, so I thought I’d deliver these since they were special order so we couldn’t pack them with the supplies they received last week. Seemed kind of silly for Ivan or Arden to hitch up the buggy and come all the way to the store for a single box of nails.”

  “That was thoughtful. If you give me a moment, I’ll pay you for the entire order. I just saw that invoice,” Rachel suggested. When she located the paperwork and finished writing out the check, she lifted her head to find Chris studying her intently.

  He immediately apologized. “I don’t mean to stare, but I feel like we’ve met before.”

  “So do I but I don’t know whe—wait, Chris Jones. You’re Paige Jones’s brother!” His surname hadn’t registered with her right away, because it was so common.

  “Ah, you’re one of Paige’s friends.” The crease across his forehead indicated Chris still couldn’t place Rachel.

  “Sort of. She tutored me ten years ago when I was studying to get my GED. We met at your house, and your parents often invited me to stay for supper. I think I only met you once or twice when you were home from college for the holidays,” Rachel explained.

  Chris palmed his forehead. “How could I forget? Paige talked about you all the time. She said you were a really quick learner and you caught on to everything right away.”

  Rachel briskly shook her head. “If that’s true, it’s because Paige was such an effective teacher. I lost touch with her years ago. What’s she doing now?”

  “Teaching, of course. On a reservation in New Mexico.”

  “I’m not surprised. She had a keen interest in connecting with people whose cultures are different from her own. So did your parents. They were intrigued by my Amish background.” Rachel stole a glance in Arden’s direction. His back was turned as he searched the shelves along the wall, but she felt self-conscious, worrying whether he was within earshot. She could understand why it might be considered disrespectful for her to stand in the presence of an Amish person and casually chat with an Englischer about her decision to leave the community. She didn’t want to offend Arden, but neither did Rachel want to cut her conversation with Chris short, considering his sister had been instrumental in helping her.

  “So, did you, er, decide to stay after all?”

  Rachel giggled softly; she could imagine how confusing it was for Chris to see her working in an Amish shop dressed as an Englischer, especially considering the last he knew, she was planning to leave the Amish. “No, after I
got my GED, I moved to Boston, went to college and became an RN. And right now, I’m waiting to hear if I’ve been accepted to an MSN program to become a nurse practitioner.” Then, to further clarify, she added, “Ivan’s my brother and he’s been in the hospital with pneumonia, so I’m only in Serenity Ridge temporarily to help out.”

  Chris congratulated her on her academic and career successes before saying, “I had no idea you were related to Ivan. That’s too bad he’s been so sick. Your family is fortunate to have you here.”

  I wish they felt that way. “Please give Paige my fond regards when you speak to her. And greet your parents for me, as well.”

  Once Chris was gone, Rachel sat down again and mindlessly filed away the invoice, but her thoughts harkened back to the evenings she’d spent conversing with Paige and her parents. They’d been nonjudgmental as they listened to Rachel ponder aloud the pros and cons of leaving her Amish family and community, neither encouraging her to go nor persuading her to stay, even when she was so conflicted she begged Mrs. Jones to tell her what she should do.

  “I think you should keep praying for wisdom,” Mrs. Jones had responded. Rachel had been hoping for a more definitive answer, but when she pushed for one, Mrs. Jones merely added, “It might help to remember whether you choose to leave or stay you can always change your mind later if you believe God is leading you in a different direction.”

  I can’t imagine ever living here permanently again, Rachel mused. Then she spied Arden’s broad shoulders as he stood in front of the supply shelf, and as she reflected on their playful morning banter, she smiled and thought, But I suppose visiting isn’t so bad after all.

  * * *

  Arden slid the box of hinges—they weren’t what he was looking for—back into its slot among the other boxes of nails, screws, nuts and bolts. He hadn’t been able to keep from overhearing Rachel and Chris talking, and their conversation had distracted him and dampened his sunny mood. While he was disconcerted to discover their trusty hardware supplier’s family had helped Rachel leave the Amish a decade ago, he was even more dismayed to learn about Rachel’s career plans. Why should I be surprised she has ambitions to become a nurse practitioner? he asked himself.

  No, Rachel wasn’t as haughty as she was rumored to be—nor was she even as snooty as Arden’s initial impression of her. In fact, when Chris complimented her for being a quick learner, Arden noticed Rachel had deflected his praise; she’d demonstrated demut, or humility, the opposite of hochmut. But as Rachel’s goals for the future demonstrated, she had an insatiable appetite for knowledge. She may be Ivan’s sister, she may be a hard worker and she may be schpass, but I’d do well to remember she’s still an Englischer. A very schmaert one at that.

  “I’m going to go eat now.” Rachel’s voice cut into Arden’s thoughts. Although they routinely took their lunch break at the same time, she went to the house to eat while he ate in the workshop or outside on the bench beneath a peach tree. “How about you? It’s nearly one thirty.”

  “I’m working through lunch today,” he answered, although the very word lunch made his stomach raw.

  “You can’t go without eating. You’ll get a koppweh,” she warned. “Trust me, I know these things. I’m a nurse.”

  As if I could forget. “A nurse, soon to be a nurse practitioner,” he muttered.

  “You heard me tell Chris that?” Rachel cocked her head.

  Intending to clarify that he hadn’t been eavesdropping, Arden said, “It would have been hard not to. This is an open space with high ceilings. If it was a secret, you should have lowered your voice.”

  “I have nothing to hide.” Rachel sounded insulted, and Arden realized he’d been too gruff. Maybe she was right; he was getting peckish.

  “Not even the 5/32-inch wood screws?” he ribbed, trying too late to make her smile. “I thought we had half a box left.”

  “They’re right in front of you.” She was already turning on her heel.

  “Where? I don’t see them.”

  She pivoted around again and pointed. “If the box gets any closer, it’s going to bite you in the nose—532WS. Read the product code.”

  Arden lifted his hand midway to the shelf, but he still didn’t see which box she meant. What was the code again? He and Ivan never paid attention to codes—they’d arranged the hardware according to what they used most often, and Arden had memorized where every last item was located on the shelves. He touched the box he thought the screws were in and Rachel tugged his sleeve to move his hand away.

  “Are you putting me on or do you seriously need glasses? Those ending in DWS are the drywall screws, not wood screws.” She reached in front of him to remove a box from the shelf near his opposite shoulder.

  “Aha, when you said nose level, you meant your nose level, not mine.” He tried to cover his mistake with humor, but it was lost on her as she hurried toward the door. His hand must have been shaky from hunger, because the box slipped from his fingers, spraying screws across the floor. He was squatting to pick them up when the door opened and in walked Grace. Arden’s heart raced, but before he could ask her, she assured him their mother was fine.

  “Anke Beiler came by to qwilde with her. Mamm’s not ready for that yet, but the white willow bark tea she drank must have helped a lot, because her fever is gone. Anyway, Anke said she’d stay there and visit so I could run a few errands, including bringing you your lunch.”

  “Denki. You didn’t have to do that, but I’m glad you did.” Arden realized sometimes he was so stressed out about what was happening at the workshop he didn’t thank his sister often enough for all she did to care for their mother and keep the household running smoothly.

  “It’s okay. It was on my way to the fabric shop.” Looking around, Grace casually inquired, “So, where’s Rachel today?”

  “She’s up at the haus eating lunch.”

  The words had barely left his mouth when Rachel burst through the door. “I forgot my phone,” she announced breathlessly as she swiped it off the desk. It must have taken a moment for her to register Grace’s presence, because Rachel came to an abrupt halt. Single-handedly gathering her hair and holding it against the nape of her neck, she stuttered, “H-hello.”

  “Hello. You must be Rachel. I’m Arden’s sister, Grace.”

  Rachel immediately dropped her hand, and her hair swung free as a smile illuminated her features, from forehead to chin. She squeezed Grace’s arm. “It’s so nice to meet you, Grace! Denki for the meal you brought the other day. It was appenditlich.”

  “I’m glad you enjoyed it. I’m actually delivering Arden a meal today, too.” Grace impishly put her hand to the opposite side of her mouth, pretending to whisper behind it, “He forgot his lunch, and he gets cranky when he doesn’t eat.”

  “Oh, that explains a lot,” Rachel joked. Or maybe she wasn’t joking—Arden couldn’t tell, but hearing how quickly Grace and Rachel teamed up to tease him made him uneasy.

  “Grace is on her way to the fabric shop,” he told Rachel, cupping his sister’s elbow. “I’ll walk you back to the buggy.”

  “I’m in no hurry.” Grace planted her feet where she stood. “How is Ivan, Rachel?”

  “He’s getting a little stronger every day. He’ll probably kumme home this weekend,” Rachel said. “But if you’d like to go visit him in the hos—”

  Arden cut her off. “Grace, you’re keeping Rachel from her lunch. She has to go now.”

  Grace raised an eyebrow at him before addressing Rachel, whose cheeks were flushed. “You’ll have to forgive my bruder for interrupting you. Not only does he become irritable when he’s hungerich, but he forgets his manners, too.”

  “It’s okay, I understand. That’s what happens when someone’s blood sugar drops too low. You really ought to eat now, Arden,” Rachel advised. She sounded so genuinely concerned Arden felt bad for having interrupted her like he did
—until she turned to Grace and said, “You know, I was planning to go to the fabric store, too. How about if we go together?”

  “Perfect! It will give us a chance to get better acquainted.”

  Now Arden was really desperate. “Y-y-you’re going to be gone that long, Rachel? What if a cu-customer calls?”

  “I’ll take the business phone with me,” Rachel told him. To Grace she added, “But he’s right, it might take more time than I can spare if we travel by buggy. Are you comfortable going in my car?”

  “Sure, as long as I don’t have to drive,” Grace said, giggling.

  Arden must have appeared as apprehensive as he felt, because when Rachel looked at him she said, “Are you sure you’re going to be okay? You look peaked.”

  “Jah, once I have lunch, I’ll be fine,” he resigned himself to saying, even though he was no longer the least bit hungry.

  Chapter Five

  “You sound a lot happier tonight,” Meg said a few minutes after Rachel called Thursday night on her speakerphone as she drove home from visiting Ivan. “Did you find out you got into the MSN program?”

  Rachel groaned. “I’m sorry I’ve been so moody lately, but you’re right, I do feel a lot happier tonight, and no, it’s not because I found out anything about my application. It’s because I had a gut afternoon at the fabric store with Arden’s schweschder, Grace.”

  Meg cracked up, and when Rachel asked what was so funny, she imitated, “A gut afternoon with Arden’s schweschder. You’re sounding more and more Amish every day.”

  Rachel laughed, too. “If you think I sound Amish, wait till you see how Amish I look in the dress I’m making.”