Brush of Angel's Wings (22 page)

“Rachel?” Jordan stuck his head inside the kitchen door.

She winced. Had he heard her prayer?

“Why don't I drive you to town so you can visit your father? The ground is too wet to work in the field. Come on. I have the buggy ready.”

“
Denki
. That would be very kind.” She looked at her clothes, then touched her prayer
kapp
and pushed the stray strands of hair back in place.

“You look nice,” he said. “I'll wait for you in the buggy.”

She wasn't sure what to make of his gesture of kindness. And it didn't make sense that he would point out her lack of skills to be a
gut fraa
and then tell her she looked nice. Rachel extinguished the oil lamp.
Ach
, it shouldn't matter what he thought. She was grateful for the ride to town. She snatched her shawl from her bedroom and wrapped it around her shoulders as she stepped outside.

He stood next to the buggy until she stepped inside and sat on the bench. He had put out a hand to help, but she had not accepted it. She could get into a buggy by herself.

Jordan seated himself inside the buggy without a word. He gathered the reins, then snapped them, the horse instantly obeying the command.

Rachel gave her attention to the wild bull thistle growing along the roadside. The purple thistle contrasted nicely against the green weeds in the ditch. She liked the colors of spring but actually enjoyed the different shades of green the leaves turned even more.

Jordan cleared his throat. “I'm sorry about what I said earlier.”

“About what?” She assumed he meant the comment he made about her dumplings, but watching him squirm gave her a little satisfaction.

“I didn't mean for it to sound like you aren't marriage worthy. You are . . . I'm sure you'll make a good wife . . . for an Amish man.”

Why she wasn't married wasn't a topic she wished to discuss with him. “You said you were looking into truck-driving school. Is that what you want to do, drive a truck?”

“As a truck driver you get paid to travel.”

“Where do you want to go?”

“Everywhere. It's hard to imagine the vastness of the ocean, the mountains, or the Grand Canyon. I want to see it all. Deserts and plains. Even the massive cities. From what I've read, and the pictures I've seen, I'd really like to experience San Francisco, Seattle, Boston—”

“I've never been out of Hope Falls.” She was unable to imagine ever wanting to leave where she lived.

“It doesn't take long to get a Class A license, and most companies will reimburse your schooling,” he said with excitement in his voice.

“You found that out using Kayla's phone?”

He navigated a turn before answering. “She has the Internet on it.”

Kayla's worldliness had certainly impressed him. “What does she think about you becoming a truck driver?” Rachel's stomach rolled. Did she really want to know what Kayla thought?

Jordan stood at the doorway of Micah's hospital room, paralyzed by memories of his mother's last days. Antiseptic penetrated the air, constricting his lungs. He leaned against the door frame, knees wobbling beneath his weight. He should've stayed outside with the horse. His reaction to seeing Micah like this was unexpected and unsettling.

“It's
gut
to see you, Jordan.” Micah winced and both Miriam and Rachel moved closer to the bedside.

Miriam gestured to the IV tubing. “Push your pain button.”

“I'm okay.” But his deep-furrowed brow indicated otherwise. “
Denki
for
kumming
back to work.” His neck muscles tensed as he blew out a slow breath.

“Of course.”

Rachel's powdery-white complexion masked her normal radiance. Tears brimmed as she stared vacantly at her father's leg suspended above the bed by some form of mechanical traction.

“I want to speak with Jordan alone,” Micah said.

Miriam reached for Rachel's hand. “We'll take a walk. Maybe go to the cafeteria for a cup of fancy
kaffi
.”

Jordan wiped his sweaty hands on his pants. He waited for Rachel and Miriam to leave the room before he eased closer to the bedside.

“Is something—” Jordan swallowed, his throat dry. Of course something was wrong. Micah wanted to speak with him alone.

Micah frowned. “I'm sorry. I'm sure being in a hospital brings back painful memories of your
mamm
.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I wish Rachel hadn't asked you to bring her.” Micah winced again.

“She didn't. I offered. Are you in pain?” Jordan took a few steps toward the door. “I can get the nurse for you.”

“I'll be fine.”

Jordan took the seat by his bedside. “Rachel didn't ask me to bring her. The field's too wet to work and we were both concerned about you.”

Micah forced a smile he couldn't hold.

“Are you sure you don't want me to call a nurse?” The same useless feeling washed over Jordan. He couldn't do anything for his mother either.

Micah closed his eyes and finally pushed the button to deliver a dose of pain medication. “Will you do something for me?”

“Anything.”

“Have patience with Rachel. She's going to balk at brotherly advice, but try to work in unity.”

“We've been getting along.”

“
Gut
. I worry about her. She's unlike
mei
other daughters.”

Rachel was unlike any woman Jordan had ever known. In some ways, he worried about her too, more so than he should.

Within a few minutes, the pain medicine took effect and Micah closed his eyes. Jordan sat with him quietly until Rachel and Miriam returned, their faces shifting into expressions of deeper concern.

“The pain medicine knocked him out,” Jordan said, standing and offering Miriam the chair. Her eyes were shadowed with exhaustion as she gratefully accepted it.

“I'll wait in the hall.” Jordan stepped out of the room. He didn't want to rush Rachel if she wanted to stay longer, but the smell of disinfectant nauseated him.

A few minutes later, Rachel came out of the room sniffling.

“Are you okay?”

“I guess.” She wiped her face with a wad of tissue. She didn't look okay.

They walked down the hall, the silence broken only by Rachel's sniffling. Jordan wanted to comfort her during the short elevator ride to the lobby but kept his hands at his sides in the elevator as well as to the end of the parking lot where Jordan had tied Ginger to a lamppost. As he untied the horse, Rachel climbed inside the buggy.

“Micah's going to be okay,” Jordan said, climbing in beside her.

Her eyes filled with tears. “It's hard seeing him in pain.”

“I know.” He released the brake, clicked his tongue, and snapped the reins.

“Was your mother in the hospital a lot before she died?”

“Yes.” He maneuvered Ginger onto the shoulder of the road. Thankfully, Rachel didn't ask more questions. She sat with her hands folded on her lap and looked away from him. His heart felt linked with hers. He knew the pain of seeing a parent in the hospital with nothing you could do to help. He was grateful, however, that her father would be coming home.

A few blocks later, Jordan turned the horse into the parking lot of the IGA grocery store, pulled up to the entrance, handed Rachel the reins, and jumped out. “I'll be back in a minute. I just want to grab a few items.”

Rachel expected Jordan to pull a pie out of the grocery bag he'd set on the counter inside her kitchen, but he brought out an eggplant. She crinkled her nose as he unloaded the remaining items: chicken, cheese, tomato sauce, and breadcrumbs.

He turned on the tap water and rinsed the eggplant. “Want to help?”

“Sure.”

“You can slice this.” He handed her the wet eggplant. “I'll get the chicken ready.”

Rachel took a knife from the drawer, and while she cut the eggplant, she kept him in sight. He moved around the kitchen with ease. First he washed the chicken breasts, then dipped them in eggs and coated them in crumb mix.

“Once you've cut the eggplant, layer it in the bottom of a cake pan.”

“Okay.” Having him instruct her in cooking tasks felt awkward. Naomi would tease her for certain. As awkward as it was, she liked it.

After frying the chicken in a greased skillet, he placed the pieces on top of the eggplant, poured the tomato sauce over the ingredients, and placed the pan in the oven.

“While this bakes, we have time to feed the animals.” He headed to the door as though on a mission.

She trailed him out to the barn. “What do you call that dish?”

“Chicken and eggplant parmesan.” He held the barn door open for her. “Ever have it?”

“Nay.”

He gathered the water buckets and headed outside while she filled the feed buckets with grain.

“What about milking?” she asked after they had fed all the animals.

“Let's eat first.”

Stepping inside the house, the thick scent of oregano caused Rachel's mouth to water. She tried peeking around his shoulder as he sprinkled cheese on top of the chicken, but he blocked her view. “Go sit,” he said, slipping the pan back into the oven.

She opened the cupboard and reached for the plates, but Jordan took her hand and led her to her chair. “Sit. I have everything under control.” It amazed her to watch him. He moved about the kitchen with a sense of belonging and comfort. It was nice that she felt she could learn from him, and he wasn't mocking her less-than-admirable cooking ability.

A few minutes later, he placed two plates of food on the table and took his seat across from her. After prayer, he watched as she took the first bite, holding his breath until she finished chewing.

“It's delicious.” She took another bite.

“I'm glad you like it.”

She waved her empty fork. “Don't fill your head with
hohchmoot
.”

He tilted his head. “Hot air?”

“Pride.”

He cut a bite for himself. “I'm glad you like it that much.”

“I suppose you'll remind me of that too.”

“For certain.” He winked.

Rachel's face heated. She expected him to call her Red, but he lowered his head and focused on eating.

Their conversation moved from topic to topic as they ate the delicious meal. They mostly told funny stories of things they did when they were small children. When they had eaten all they could, Rachel stood to collect the dirty dishes.

A moment later the back door opened and Sadie and Timothy came in.

“
Ach
, Rachel, something smells
gut
.” Sadie looked at the pan. “What did you make?”

“It's chicken and eggplant parmesan. Jordan made it.”

Sadie's brows raised and she glanced at Timothy.

“Don't get any fancy ideas,” Timothy said. “Anything I cooked wouldn't be edible.” He turned to Jordan. “You need a hand with milking?”

“Sure.”

Once Jordan and Timothy were outside, Sadie spoke to Rachel. “You two seem to be getting along
gut
.”

“
Jah
, I suppose so.” Rachel picked up the kettle. “Want a cup of
kaffi
?”

“
Nay
, I have to give up caffeine.” Sadie sat and propped her legs up on the chair beside her. “
Mei
legs are swollen and
mei
heart is racing.”

“Is that normal?”

“I suppose. The midwife wants me to watch my weight. She says every pregnancy is different.”

Rachel emptied the hot water from the kettle into the sink.

“Do you want help?” Sadie lowered her legs from the chair.

“
Nay
, I'm fine. You rest.” Rachel pulled a dishrag from the drawer. “Have you started making clothes for your
boppli
yet?”

“Some. I've been given some too, mostly boys' clothes.” She rubbed her belly. “But everyone tells me I need to be ready for twins.”