A Little Bit of Charm (35 page)

SIXTEEN

Bright shining as the sun

Wednesday

S
it,” Sarah demanded when Rachel walked into the room. “You will eat a hearty breakfast before leaving this morning, and I'm not taking no for an answer. This is your first day back to work after being sick. You will need all your strength today.”

Rachel filled their mugs with hot coffee and slumped into a chair. “I'll give you no argument. My appetite has returned with a vengeance.”

Sarah carried over a pan of scrambled eggs, a platter of sausage patties, a plate of buttered toast, and a casserole dish of baked apples. “You must be on top of your game with what lies ahead.”

Rachel slanted her cousin a frown. “I suppose you're not referring to exercising fancy show horses in cold, wet weather.”

“Nope, because I don't have the slightest idea as to what that entails.” Sarah carried jars of strawberry preserves and blueberry jam to the table. “Because you've decided to break up with your boss, it makes no sense to drag your feet. Just swallow the bitter
pill and get it over with. Then you can make a fresh start—a new beginning.”

“Any additional clichés you wish to add to your sage advice,
fraa
?” asked Isaac, sauntering in from the laundry room. “Or have you run plumb out?” He hung his hat and chore coat on a peg before washing his hands at the sink.

“I didn't hear you come in,
ehemann
,” said Sarah with a slight hitch in her voice.

“That much is apparent. I sneaked in to see if you were abiding with my request to butt out.” He fought back a smile. “But I see you are not.” He shook his head, sighing.

Sarah poured him a cup of coffee and set it on the table. “Rachel arrived at the decision to stop courting the
Englischer
by herself. I had nothing to do with it. I'm merely bolstering her determination with a good meal.”

“She's right, Isaac. This is my choice. Please don't be cross with your wife.”

He sat across from them. “You
sure
you're fully recovered? You're not still suffering hallucinations or bouts of confusion?”

“Isaac Stoll! By the way you talk a person might think you have a low opinion of your devoted
fraa
.”

“Then that person would be wrong. You are the joy of my life—the very reason I get up every day and labor long hours in the chicken barns.” He winked while holding out his plate.

Lovely color bloomed across Sarah's cheeks. “That's more like it.” She delivered a large scoop of eggs and then spread a thick layer of preserves across his toast.

Rachel looked from one to the other. Would she ever meet the right match—a man who was as well suited to her as Isaac was to Sarah?

Not likely, if recent Amish social events were any indication. She forced herself to eat a scoop of eggs, a sausage patty, and one
slice of toast to appease her cousin. “
Danki
for breakfast, Sarah. I will tell the Bradys I won't work Thursdays anymore.”

“
Gut!
” Sarah reached for a second serving of apples.

“I want to help more around here.”

“
Gut
. Three days a week should be plenty with those
Englischers
.”

Rachel swallowed the cold dregs of her coffee. “It'll be enough because I want to avoid Jake.”

“Out of sight, out of mind. That's what I always say.”

Isaac set down his fork and knife with a clatter. “I'll harness your horse, Rachel, before Sarah rubs any more salt into your wounds.” He brushed a kiss across Sarah's
kapp
on his way to the door. “As you seem to need something productive to do,
fraa
, please keep my breakfast warm while I'm gone.”

Rachel shrugged into her bonnet and cape and stuck the lunch she'd packed last night into her tote bag. “What's for supper tonight—need I ask? Which feathered friend will meet her earthly demise?”

“None of my babies, Miss Smarty-Pants. We're having meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and carrots, so hurry home.” Sarah's expression turned poignantly sweet.

All the way to Twelve Elms, Rachel tried to rehearse what she would say. But each canned speech sounded lamer than the last. When she parked in her usual spot and turned her horse into the small paddock, blessedly no one came running from the house bearing armfuls of flowers or expensive baskets of sweet-smelling toiletries. She didn't know whether to cry or rejoice. However, her reprieve lasted only until she exited the ladies' room outside the office, dressed in her riding attire.

Jake waited in the doorway of the employee break room. In lieu of a bouquet or gifts, he offered an ear to ear grin. “I sure am glad to see you.” His bulk effectively blocked her path to the lockers. “If you hadn't showed up to work, I planned to drive out to the Stolls
whether Sarah chased me around with her broom or not. And this time I would bring the doctor instead of a bunch of roses.”

“I didn't think English doctors still made house calls.” They stood uncomfortably close. “Excuse me, Jake. I must put my Amish clothes in my locker.” She tried to squeeze past, but their hips and shoulders brushed, sending jolts of electricity…and annoyance…up her spine.

He moved over half a foot. “Sure thing, and no, doctors usually don't. But if I bribe him with free riding lessons for his offspring for life, you would be surprised what country docs will do.” He followed on her heels, looming above while she stowed her bag in the locker. “I couldn't stand working another day without seeing your pretty face at lunch or in the arena.”

Rachel stuffed her ponytail inside her Twelve Elms cap. “Bribing a medical professional would be a stupid thing to do. I'm glad you didn't try it.” She turned abruptly to face him. “Please let me pass, Jake. I'm already late for work.”

“You don't have to worry about getting fired.” He stepped back, but only a foot. “Promise you'll eat lunch with me. I packed salami sandwiches with dill pickles—the kind you like—ripe red pears from our trees, and I filled a thermos with sweet tea.”

“No, I can't.” Rachel marched toward the office door.

He caught her arm with a firm grip. “Okay, how about after work? You can exercise Calamity Jane while I ride Pretty Boy up to the pond. It's not supposed to rain this afternoon, and my horse needs some exercise.”

“I don't think so.” Pulling away, she bolted down the steps toward the barns.

“Rachel, what's wrong with you?” Jake jogged after her, catching up with little effort. “Are you sore I showed up at the Stolls'? Or sore because I only stopped by once?” He grabbed her jacket near the elbow.

Please, Lord, grant me patience and the correct words
. She turned and placed both hands on his chest. “While I was sick in bed I had time to think—”

“About what?” he interrupted, immediately agitated.

“About you and me…and where this relationship is headed.”

“Rachel, it's not been long enough to tell if—”

“Stop and let me talk!” She stomped her foot.
So much for the gift of patience
.

“Whew, sorry.” Jake halted on the path, his head rearing back.

Rachel stopped too and closed the distance between them. “It's been long enough—long enough to know we're kidding ourselves. You seem to possess the idea I'll eventually turn English. That you will tempt me with your sweet talk and expensive presents and fancy horse farm.” She flourished her hand at the elm trees that lined the drive—bare, yet still magnificent. “You might be able to bribe the local doctor, but not me.”

Every bit of blood drained from his face. “I wasn't trying to bribe you. I thought you liked me as much as I liked you. Apparently, I was mistaken.” If a draft horse had kicked Jake in the gut, he couldn't have appeared more dumbfounded.

It would be so easy to reassure him and salve his wounded feelings.
I do like you, Jake, every bit as much
. So easy, but so pointless. “We're not children anymore. Who I
like
has little importance. I'm Amish, Jake, and I intend to marry somebody Amish. That's what is expected of me, and that's what I plan to do. I'm wasting your time and you're wasting mine.” She hadn't intended to sound so abrupt, so heartless, but the situation had careened out of control.

Shutting his eyes, Jake dropped his chin and then scuffed his heel in the dirt once or twice. When he looked up, his mouth had thinned to a harsh line. “I get it, Rachel. You've probably been telling me this for a while, but I'm too thick-skulled to listen.” He exhaled through his teeth. “I won't pester you anymore. You're a
good employee, Miss King. Don't feel like you need to quit your job. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to check today's training schedule.”

He walked away before she had a chance to soften the blow. It felt very much to Rachel as though that balky horse just connected with its second victim.

Jake made it until noon before he had to get away from the stable. Every chore presented another reminder of her. Bess and Buster, with flowers in their braided manes, were munching apples from their newest exercise girl. When he looked for Pretty Boy to check his hooves, someone had moved the horse next to Calamity Jane's stall. While eating her hay, Calamity Jane watched him with one mocking brown eye.
If you were a different man, a better person, she never would have dropped you like a hot kettle lid
. Even Keeley couldn't resist inquiring where Rachel had gone, as though it was his responsibility to keep track of women who didn't love him. When he grabbed his lunch from the break room refrigerator, the sight of a meal large enough for two tipped him over the edge.

Jake tossed the paper sack into the trash and hurried from the room. He didn't need anybody asking questions that were none of their business, such as “How are things going with the Amish girl?” He spun his tires through driveway gravel as he left Twelve Elms. A cloud of dust followed in his wake until he reached the paved lane used by tourists. Once on the county road he drove fast, and then he drove even faster after he turned onto the state highway. With no place to go and plenty of time to get there, he decided to put some distance between himself and Charm.

What did men do on television when their lives were falling apart? They went out and got drunk. But that wasn't possible in
Casey County. His parents had chosen this part of Kentucky specifically because it was dry. No alcohol meant no temptations for impressionable teenagers, no blurry-eyed farmhands after tying one on the night before, and no wondering whether or not to serve wine at dinner parties or beer at cookouts for their imbibing friends.

But a dry county made life difficult when a man needed a drink for
medicinal
purposes, and Jake faced one of those times now. He drove mindlessly north, listening to the radio set on a country station. The music from Nashville about men down on their luck with low wages or no jobs and cheating wives salved his wounded soul. Only the low fuel signal broke through his self-absorbed trance. It was a sound he hated after once ignoring the chime for too long and then having to walk for miles. Gas stations were few and far between in rural areas. He spotted a sign which promised a town in four miles and was prepared to stop there.

A few minutes later, Jake pulled into the BP station on fumes and in a sour mood. The fill-up cost him seventy dollars, but a blinking neon beer sign indicated he'd reached the nearest “wet” county. Jake parked on the main street and entered the dim interior of a tavern that hadn't been updated since Nixon was president. The linoleum floor was an indistinguishable color, while the smell of old fryer grease and unwashed bodies hung in the air. He loved the place. Slipping onto a worn red stool, he swiveled around to read wall signs that advertised beers he'd never heard of.

“What'll it be, cowboy?” A voice spoke from behind—a voice hoarse from smoking, he thought.

Jake pulled off his ball cap, stuffed it into his back pocket, and smiled at the thirty-something blonde. “I'll have a beer.”

“Draught or bottle?” Her smile revealed unusually white teeth.