He hadn’t mixed up right and left for years—it only happened when he was stressed or tired. As a child, it had taken him much longer than the other students to learn the concept of right and left. He was finally able to memorize the two directions when the teacher told him, “Think of it this way. Right is on the same side as the hand I write with. The other hand is left.” Except Arden always completed the mnemonic as, “The other hand is wrong.”
“Neh!” he barked now. “Wrong! Go wrong!”
Rachel tapped the brake, and his upper torso swung toward the dashboard before the seat belt jerked his momentum to a stop. “Which way do you want me to go? Right or left?”
Arden pointed. “That way.”
“Okay.” She reached over and tapped his hand, repeating, “Okay. It’s going to be okay.”
For the rest of their trip, each time they came to a stop sign or the end of a street, he’d squint into the rain and point in the direction he wanted her to continue. The downpour pelted the rooftop so hard it made it difficult for them to hear each other, and twice they temporarily lost all visibility when passing vehicles shrouded them in water.
“Ivan told me about your Mamm’s lupus. Has she had a flare of symptoms recently?” Rachel asked as they approached another four-way stop.
“Jah, a fe-fever.” Arden pointed. “Up the hill. Then t-turn by the Grischtdaag tree farm.”
Rachel did as he said. “Anything else?”
Arden was confused; couldn’t she see the tree farm? “There’s a small b-barn.”
“No, I meant any other symptoms?”
“She’s tired. And her ha-hands are—” He rapidly tapped the dashboard. “Here, turn here. Down this road at the end is wh-where I live.”
* * *
“Hold on, I haven’t stopped the car yet,” Rachel said when she pulled up to the house, but Arden already had one leg out the door. How many times had she treated patients who’d wound up injured because they’d panicked while trying to help a family member during an emergency?
She turned off the ignition, nabbed her first aid kit from beneath the seat and hurried behind him into the house, through the kitchen and into the living room. There a thin, older woman whose head of dark hair didn’t contain a strand of gray was placidly resting in an armchair while Grace stood beside her holding a glass of water.
“Why, hello. You must be Rachel Blank. I’m Oneita Esh,” the woman greeted her as if she’d been expecting Rachel to stop by for a sister day.
Before Rachel could respond, Arden began firing off questions. “Are you okay, Mamm? Is it your hands? Grace, what happened?”
“Her nose changed color, just like her fingers. It was the oddest thing.”
Oneita looked at Rachel and raised her hands as she shrugged. “They’re better now, as you can see. I only wanted Grace to tell Arden we might need to schedule an appointment after all, but I guess they didn’t have a gut phone connection. I’m sorry you came all the way out here in the rain. Grace—please make Rachel a cup of tea. She’s dripping wet.”
“Mamm, as long as we’re here, you should let Rachel look at your hands. And your nose,” Arden suggested.
Oneita rolled her eyes. “My kinner fret so much you’d think they’re the eldre and I’m the kind.”
Rachel laughed. Then, sensing Arden and Grace’s frustration with their mother, as well as Oneita’s resistance, she suggested, “A cup of tea would be wunderbaar, Grace. Perhaps while you’re making it and I’m chatting with your mamm, Arden will go remove his shoes and get a towel for me. I’m afraid we’ve made a mess of your floor.”
Arden looked at her askance, but Grace sighed and nudged him out of the room, saying, “Okay, we’ll give you privacy to chat.”
“You’re going to want to look me over, aren’t you?” Oneita asked.
“It might help keep those two from breathing down your neck,” Rachel whispered, causing Oneita to chuckle.
She proceeded to take Oneita’s temperature and discuss her symptoms. Rachel was almost certain she could identify the phenomenon, as she’d read about it and seen several lupus patients treated for it in the clinic over the years. She didn’t think Oneita’s case was urgent, but since Rachel wasn’t qualified to offer a diagnosis, she encouraged her to see a doctor soon.
As Arden and Grace reentered the room, Oneita argued, “I understand that, but I’d still like to hear what you think it is and what I can do about it until I get in for an appointment.”
“Mamm, if she doesn’t know for sure—” Arden started to say.
“She does know. And she knows what I can do to treat it or prevent it.” Oneita pointed her finger at Rachel in a way that reminded her of her own mother. “Kumme now, you’ve studied and learned a lot about Englisch medicine. I understand some people might think that’s a matter of hochmut. But it’s false hochmut to act as if you don’t know something when you clearly do.”
Flustered, Rachel was at a momentary loss. Somehow Oneita’s words sounded less like a scolding and more like...like encouragement. She felt the same way now that she’d felt when Arden pointed out how she’d held her ground with Colin—it was as if Oneita and Arden appreciated the very attributes in Rachel that the people in her family condemned as character flaws.
“Okay,” she agreed. “I’ll tell you what I know, but first I have to admit there’s something that’s confusing me. If this is what I think it is, usually it’s triggered by cold temperatures, but the weather’s been so warm lately. It seems odd you’d be experiencing it now—especially after bathing.”
Grace clasped her hands together. “Mamm’s been taking tepid baths, not hot baths. It’s what she does for her fever.”
“But she didn’t have a bath this morning, did she?” Arden countered. “And even if she did, it’s not as if she put her nose under water.”
“Maybe today was an exception,” Oneita said.
“Did you do anything else with cold water today, Mamm?” Arden pressed. “Rinse vegetables? Make lemonade?”
“Neh. Grace has been doing all the food preparation. She thinks I’m so weak she barely allowed me to get my compress from the freezer before she was chasing me out again.”
“Mamm, that’s it! You opened the freezer, which is right at nose level, and you’ve been handling the compress. Could being exposed to the cold for such a short time trigger it, Rachel?”
“Jah. I think you’ve solved the mystery, Arden,” Rachel said, silently admonishing herself for making assumptions about Oneita taking hot baths and for not asking additional questions, as Arden had done. But now that she was more confident about the diagnosis, she told the Eshes everything she knew about the disease, including how to prevent it, what to do when it happened, what tests the doctor might want to run and what alternative medicine options she might consider. She concluded by again urging Oneita to schedule a doctor’s appointment.
“Arden will do that for me, but I doubt the dokder will tell me anything you haven’t already said.” Oneita brought her teacup to her lips. “Oh, this is cold. Would you put another kettle on for us, Grace?”
“Actually, Rachel and I ought to get back to the workshop now.” Arden was shifting from foot to foot, but Rachel noticed the color had returned to his cheeks and he wasn’t stuttering anymore. He was probably nervous about meeting his deadlines, and she didn’t want to add to his anxiety.
“Jah, we should go,” she agreed, hoping she didn’t appear rude for dashing off.
“Then you must kumme for tea another day, shouldn’t she, Grace?”
“Absolutely.” Grace smiled at her brother. “Arden and I have been talking about Rachel visiting since she got here, haven’t we, Arden?”
“Denki, I’d like that,” Rachel agreed, and in that moment she realized just how much she’d longed to be welcomed into an Amish family’s home again.
*
* *
On the return trip, Arden could hardly speak, except to indicate in which direction Rachel should turn. Now that he wasn’t so distraught over his mother’s condition, he had the wherewithal to verbalize left or right instead of just pointing, but beyond that, speech eluded him. He needed to process the gamut of emotions he’d just experienced, from his fear about his mother’s health to his admiration of how skillfully Rachel managed the situation, to his apprehension about her coming to their house socially. Fortunately, either Rachel understood his need for silence or she was deep in thought, too, because she was as quiet as he was.
Although the rain had let up and Rachel only used her intermittent wipers to clear a fine mist from the windshield, the unpaved back roads were soft with puddles. More than once she navigated onto the shoulder in order to bypass the standing water, but when they came to a particularly large pool that extended across the road’s width, she stopped the car and bit her lip.
“Uh-oh. That looks deep. I better not cross it. I don’t want the engine to seize.” She glanced into the rearview mirror and at both sides of the road. “It’s too narrow to turn here. I’m going to have to back up a little first, and then I can maneuver a three-point turn.”
Rachel put the car into Reverse and Arden could hear the engine revving, but they went nowhere. “Are we stuck?”
“I think so. I’ll look.” Rachel shifted into Park and reached for the door handle, but Arden pressed her shoulder to stop her from getting out.
“No need for both of us to get dirty,” he said. As soon as he placed his weight down, he sank far enough into the soggy ground that the muddy water nearly covered the top of his boots. The muck created noticeable suction as he trudged to the front of the car, where he confirmed the driver’s side wheel was stuck indeed. “Put it in Reverse,” he instructed Rachel, who was sticking her head out the window.
“It is,” she confirmed.
“I’m going to rock it a couple times first. On the count of three, apply the gas.” Arden bent to place his hands against the front bumper, shoulder width apart, thinking, This is never an issue with a horse and buggy. “One... Two...” He could feel the car begin to budge, and he heaved with all his might. “Three!”
Rachel must have pushed the pedal to the floor, because the driver’s side wheel gyrated in place, wildly throwing blobs of mud at him before both tires gripped the ground and the car shot backward with such force Arden lost his balance and thumped onto his bottom in the ooze. Fortunately, he was able to halt his backward momentum by bracing his torso with his arms, so he remained in an upright sitting position instead of lying flat in the sludge.
As he wiped dirt from his eyelid with a clear patch of his sleeve, he saw Rachel charging toward him on foot, waving something white in the air. “Arden, are you okay? I’m so sor—” One of her feet was submerged in mire, and as she extended the other leg forward, it lost traction and slid beneath her. Her knee hit the soft ground first, followed by her elbow on one side and then her palm on the other. By the time she stopped moving, she was lying flat on her belly with her chin in the mud.
Arden scrambled to his feet to help her up, too. “Are you okay?”
“Jah,” she said once she was upright. Blinking at the damp, dirty wad she still gripped in her fist, she added, “But I’m afraid these were my only napkins.”
The notion that a couple of flimsy paper napkins could have made a difference to them caused Arden to howl with laughter, and Rachel clutched her stomach and joined him. Noticing that the grime on her face made her bright teeth appear even brighter as she laughed, he couldn’t think of any woman he knew who would be as good-natured as Rachel was being right now. If her attitude in the face of being drenched with rain and gunk wasn’t a demonstration of demut, he didn’t know what was.
Chapter Six
Once she maneuvered the car into a turn, Rachel offered to take Arden home so he could change his clothes and wash up, but he insisted on continuing to the workshop.
“After the, uh, paint incident, I brought a change of clothing to work. Didn’t think I’d need to use them so soon, but...”
Rachel giggled. “But you’ve never been around me before. I seem to foster all kinds of messy mishaps.”
“Neh, the paint spill was definitely my fault. But here’s a little hint for the next time someone is pushing you out of the mud. You want to apply light pressure to the gas pedal.”
“How was I supposed to know? I’ve never been stalled in a swamp before,” Rachel countered genially. “Besides, what makes you the expert? You don’t drive.”
“Neh, not anymore. But my running-around period lasted three years, and let’s just say there’s a lot of snow in Indiana in the winter and flooding in the spring...”
Rachel’s mouth fell open. She couldn’t imagine staid Arden going through a three-year rumspringa. “Wow. My running-around period only lasted four weeks when I was sixteen. I tried out the Englisch lifestyle with my friends, but I honestly wasn’t drawn to it.”
“But you—” Arden didn’t complete his thought.
“I left two years later, jah. Despite what people think about me seeking attention or rebelling against my Amish upbringing, that’s not why I left. I left because I—” Rachel swallowed the rest of her sentence. She’d said too much.
“You left because...?” Arden twisted toward her in his seat, as if he was truly interested in hearing her answer.
“I left because when my mamm was sick, I wished I could do something besides rub her temples and feet with apple cider vinegar or bring her ginger tea.” Remembering, Rachel sighed before she clarified, “That doesn’t mean I don’t value natural remedies, because I do in many instances. But as a young maedel watching my mamm’s dokder and nurses, I developed a curiosity about Englisch medicine, and I secretly dreamed of becoming a nurse. But that would have meant leaving the Amish, and after rumspringa, I had no desire to go Englisch, so I put the idea out of my mind. Then when my daed became ill, my fascination with medicine returned and, well, as you know, I eventually became a nurse.”
To Rachel’s astonishment, instead of Arden pointing out how prideful it was to pursue an Englisch education instead of being satisfied with her Amish schooling, he said, “And you became a very gut one. Denki for helping my mamm today.”
* * *
If Arden didn’t know better, he might have suspected it was a tear instead of a trickle of mud dripping down Rachel’s cheek as they pulled into Ivan’s driveway. She pushed it aside with the back of her hand and flashed him a smile.
“I’m glad to help your mamm any time.”
Arden was about to say he hoped his mother wouldn’t need help again when he spied movement out of the corner of his eye. An Amish wagon was parked in front of the workshop in the area designated for loading sheds and unloading supplies. Unlike the buggies the Amish in Serenity Ridge used for travel, this type of wagon was pulled by a draft horse instead of a standardbred and had an open seat. Although Arden couldn’t see the face of the man who owned the wagon, the steel roof panels piled on the flatbed indicated it belonged to Colin.
“Uh-oh. Look who got caught in the cloudburst.”
“I suppose since he’s wearing a hat, he figured he didn’t need to bring an umbrella,” Rachel said, quoting Arden’s earlier remark as Colin turned toward them, glaring. On the surface her gibe might have seemed facetious, but beneath it Arden heard a note of fear.
“Hi, Colin. That was quite some del-deluge, eh? Sorry to keep you w-waiting. I see you brought the panels I ordered for the sh-shed roofs.” Arden hoped in vain his friendliness would allay Colin’s ire.
“I’ve been sitting here for over an hour. I’m sopping wet and so is my horse. You’d better have a gut reason for closing the shop in the middle of the day.” As Colin strode in their direction, droplets flew from the brim of his hat. When he removed it to shake it dry,
he must have gotten his first full gander at Arden and Rachel, because he abruptly halted and hollered, “Exactly what kind of nonsense have you two been up to this time?”
In the face of confrontation, Arden was usually tongue-tied, but today he struggled to hold his tongue. He stood tall with his fingers balled into fists at his sides. “I told you I’d pick up the panels from your shop myself. It was your choice to deliver them and your choice to set out in bad weather. You also chose to waste time sitting in the driveway when you could have piled the roofing by the door and left. But then you would have missed the opportunity to scrutinize the business. You can see we’re bedraggled and the car is filthy, yet your first inclination isn’t to ask about our welfare. It’s to cast judgment on me—and on Rachel.”
Colin faltered backward two steps before regaining his balance. “If you don’t want to tell me where you’ve been, maybe you’ll have to tell Ivan.”
Without acknowledging Colin’s threat, Arden walked around him to unlock the workshop door and then ambled back to the wagon and began pulling the steel panels from its bed. “Rachel, would you please write a check for Colin for this order?”
“Of course. How much do we owe you?” Rachel sweetly asked her brother.
While she and Colin went inside, Arden finished stacking the metal sheets against the side of the workshop wall. Passing Colin on the way in, he thanked him for the delivery, but Colin didn’t reply.
Once inside, Arden headed straight to the rag bin and toweled the grime from his face and hands. Rachel was quiet except to suggest Arden go to the house to change and clean up first, while she minded the shop, and then she took her turn. She came back with two mugs of piping-hot coffee, which Arden found surprisingly refreshing on such a warm day. By then he’d calmed down, but he didn’t want to discuss what had happened between Colin and him. He was relieved that once again, Rachel seemed to have an implicit understanding of his need to ruminate in silence. The only thing she told him before they began their separate tasks was that she must have dropped her phone at some point, because she’d discovered it submerged in a puddle on the way to the house.
The Amish Nurse's Suitor (Amish 0f Serenity Ridge Book 2) Page 9