Authors: Marta Perry

Rachel's Garden (19 page)

BOOK: Rachel's Garden

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Rachel flushed, this time with pleasure. “I thought—well, never mind. I’m just glad you feel that way.”

Leah’s eyes were bright with unshed tears. “I’ve felt, lately, as if there was something between us. I didn’t like the feeling. Are we all right now?”

Rachel nodded, her own throat thick. There had been something between them, thanks to her own misunderstanding.

“Ser gut,” Rachel murmured.

Before she could say another word, a ruckus erupted outside. Men’s voices, shouting—something had happened.

She and Leah exchanged one quick, frightened look, and then she was rushing to the door, with Leah following more slowly.

She burst out onto the back porch and took the steps in a jump. Men were running toward the barn, Gideon in the lead. Rachel’s heart thudded against her ribs.

Something was wrong—something bad.

Please, Lord, please, Lord.
She didn’t know what to pray, only that prayer was needed.

Elizabeth raced to them and clutched Rachel’s apron with both hands, her face tearstained and frightened.

“Elizabeth, what is it? Tell me!” She grasped the child’s shoulders.

“Becky.” The word came out on a sob. “Becky climbed up into the barn rafters. She can’t get down. She’s going to fall.”

Becky... please, God, protect Becky.

“Go to your mamm,” she ordered, and she set off running toward the barn, fear clawing at her heart, breath coming in terrified gasps.

Please, Father. Please.

Gideon’s
leg throbbed as he reached the barn seconds ahead of the other men. He thrust the door wide and plunged in, blinking, trying to adjust his vision to the gloom after the bright sunshine outside.

He spotted the two boys standing in the middle of the barn floor, their heads tilted back, faces pale, shocked ovals as they stared upward. He followed the direction of their gazes, and his heart seemed to stop.

Becky. High in the rafters, thirty or forty feet up, Becky teetered on a beam, hands outstretched to clutch nothing but air.

For a second he couldn’t move—couldn’t do anything but utter a wordless prayer. Then the others rushed in, and his mind started working. Be calm, be rational, think only of what must be done, and not of what was at stake.

“Get a rope,” he ordered. “And a tarp, a canvas, anything you can use to stretch out in case—”

He didn’t finish. He didn’t need to. They understood. In case she fell.

Murmurs of agreement. He grasped the ladder that led up to the loft level. “I’m going up.”

“No, I will.”

He hadn’t seen William come in, but he was often around the farm. His round, beardless face was pale, and his voice had shaken on the words.

Gideon didn’t stop his scramble up the ladder, but he threw the words over his shoulder. “I’m more used to working at heights. Stay with Rachel.”

Not waiting to see if the lad agreed, he scaled the ladder to the loft and then paused to assess the situation. A rough ladder nailed to the wall led upward into the angled timbers that braced the roof. Becky must have gone that way, but how she’d gotten that far out on the crossbeam, he couldn’t imagine.

“Gid, here.” Aaron, who’d been helping with the windmill, tossed a coil of rope up to him.

Gideon caught it and slipped it over his head, then thrust his arm through the middle so that it crossed his body.

“What else?” Aaron said the words softly, as if afraid of disturbing Becky on her precarious perch.

Gideon measured the angle at which he’d have to bring the child down if he reached her.
When
he reached her. “Stay here on the loft. I might need to lower her down to you.”

He wouldn’t consider any other conclusion to this. He couldn’t.

Aaron nodded, seeming to understand all that he didn’t say. “Da Herr sei mit du,” he murmured.

The words seemed to follow Gideon as he started up the ladder.
The Lord be with you.

Gideon’s gaze was fixed on Becky. He could see her better now that he was higher. Her face was as white as her kapp, her arms stretched out in an effort to balance herself.

Below, he heard the rush of running feet. Rachel. It had to be. She’d look up; she’d see her child in danger. Pray God she didn’t cry out. The slightest thing could disturb Becky’s delicate balancing act.

Straining his ears, his body tense, he heard a faint gasp—that was all. Rachel would see, would understand. She’d be strong, no matter how afraid she was.

And he—he couldn’t look down, couldn’t let himself be distracted by the pain he knew she was suffering. All his attention had to be on Becky.

He reached the top of the ladder. Not close enough to reach her yet, but at least he could probably talk to her without causing her to move.

“I’m coming to get you, Becky.” He kept his tone low and easy. “Got yourself in a bit of a pickle, I’m afraid.”

She didn’t speak, but her head moved in the faintest of nods.

A diagonal beam crossed beneath her. That must be how she’d gotten up there, but he couldn’t imagine it. Still, if she had done it, then he could.

He eyed the beam she stood on. If he could loop the rope over it, that would help to stabilize him as he worked his way up the diagonal toward her. But he’d never do it from here. He’d have to edge his way up closer first.

Meanwhile, Becky was visibly tiring, and that increased the danger. He risked a glance down. If she fell from where she was now, she’d miss the loft edge where Aaron stood. The other men were already positioned below with a canvas stretched between them, their eyes and their prayers fixed on the child.

“Becky, can you sit down on the beam instead of standing, do you think?”

Frowning, she bent her knees slightly. Her arms waved, and someone below them gasped.

Then she caught her balance again, shaking her head slightly.

“That’s all right.” He edged upward along the beam. “You’re fine just where you are. That beam is nice and wide. I’d guess you could stand there all day if you had to.”

She seemed to straighten a little, as if she were trying to prove him right.

He edged a foot closer and grasped the beam with one hand while he lifted the rope free with the other. He would not let himself imagine the day Ezra had been above him in another barn. He would not think about Rachel, far below, watching in terror. He would only concentrate on the child.

“Becky, I’m going to throw my rope up around your beam. I don’t want you to move or reach for it, okay? I’m just going to use it to help me balance.”

Seeing that she understood, he loosened the loop, measuring the distance to the beam with his gaze. He knotted the end of the rope to give it a little more weight, swinging it several times to get the feel of it. Then he swung it upward.

It missed, falling back toward him. The momentum of his swing threw his body off balance. He lurched, stumbling on the beam, clawing at thin air, nothing beneath him but the canvas, which wouldn’t hold his weight. He was going to fall—

His left hand brushed the beam, caught, held, and his body slammed into it, his legs dangling.

Hug the beam, don’t look down, don’t think about the pain, he thought, as his bad leg took all the weight when he dragged himself back onto the beam ...

Gripping it, he looked up, shaking off the red haze that clouded his vision. Bless the child, she still held her position, though every muscle must be trembling with the effort it took.

“Missed, but I’ll get it this time.” He forced his voice to be calm. “Hold on, Becky. Only a few more minutes now.”

Slowly, painfully, he inched back up along the beam. It was harder this time, his strength waning. He readied the rope again. Breathed a prayer. Threw it. This time it swung around the beam, the knotted end dropping almost into his hands.

Gripping the ends, he wrapped them around his left arm, leaving his right free to grab Becky With the stability the rope gave him, he moved up the beam.

Then he was as close as he could get, and he still wasn’t quite close enough.

“Becky, I need you to help me, okay? I need you to bend just a little, so that you can reach for my hand.”

“I can’t.” Her lips barely moved. “I’ll fall.”

Be honest with her. “Maybe,” he conceded. “But if you do, I’ll catch you.”
Please, Lord. Please.
“It’s the only way to get you back down to your mammi. All right?”

She pressed her lips together firmly. Then she gave a slight nod.

“Wait until I give you the word.” He strained toward her, stretching until his muscles screamed. Sweat poured into his eyes, and he blinked it away. “Okay, Becky. Now.”

She wavered. Her small body bent slightly—her hand neared his, still a painful few inches away, but he couldn’t quite reach.
Please, God—

Then, as her body tumbled from the beam, he got a glimpse of her white, terrified face, heard a cry from below, grabbed, held, and pulled her tight against him.

He couldn’t move. He could only balance there, clinging to the rope, holding her close against him, feeling the frightened beating of her heart, so quick, so light, like a little bird in his arms.

Thank you, Lord.

He could breathe again, move again. He edged back down the beam, aware of the sounds below him, the others scrambling up the ladder to the loft.

Finally he reached the relative safety of the crossbeam. Becky’s arms were tight around his neck, her tears wet on his shirt.

“Almost there,” he said. “You have to be brave a little longer, all right?”

She nodded, and he felt the movement against his shoulder.

He edged his way to the rough ladder nailed to the barn wall, his strength nearly gone. Would his leg hold them both to get down the rest of the way?

But he didn’t have to find out. There was Aaron, already halfway up the ladder, reaching toward him.

“Becky, I’m going to hand you down to my brother Aaron. But you have to let go of my neck. Can you do that? Just hang on to my arm instead. We won’t let you fall.”

For an instant longer she clung to him, her cheek pressed against his. Then she let go. Grasping her firmly with his arm across her chest, he lowered her into Aaron’s waiting arms.

Aaron carried her quickly down. He could hear the murmurs of those below, the muffled sobs that must come from Rachel.

He should climb down, but he couldn’t seem to move. He could only lean against the rough, warm wood, his heart hurting as if the Lord had taken a chisel to it and wrenched it open.

By
the time supper was over, it seemed to Rachel that everyone in the community had heard about Becky’s mishap, and half of them had stopped by to marvel and praise God over her rescue. Much as she appreciated their prayers and concern, she’d begun to wish that they would leave the subject alone for a while, for Becky’s sake if not for hers.

Her parents had come, too, and stayed to eat supper, with Mamm taking over the kitchen the moment she walked in the door. Although Daad had yet to say anything to her about it, Rachel suspected that his somber expression meant he found this incident just one more reason why she and the children should move home.

“Ach, Becky, you don’t have to dry the dishes.” Mamm patted Becky’s cheek. “You deserve a reward for being such a brave girl.”

“Don’t say that.” The words spurted out of Rachel’s mouth before she could stop them. “Don’t give Becky the idea that she’s done something brave. She was naughty. She did something she knew was wrong, and she caused a lot of trouble.”

Becky’s eyes widened at her tone, and her lower lip trembled.

“Rachel, Rachel,” her mother chided. “You should be praising God that she is safe.”

Taking a deep breath helped, just a little. “I’m sorry, Mamm.” She pulled her daughter close against her. “I am praising God you are safe, Rebecca. We owe our thanks to the quick work of Gideon and the others who helped.” She tilted her daughter’s face up gently. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you did wrong, does it?”

“No, Mammi.” Becky’s lips quivered, and she pressed them together for a second. “I’m sorry”

“Ser gut. Now I think you will help finish up the dishes, won’t you?”

Becky nodded and turned back to her work.

Rachel glanced at her mother. Mamm’s lips were pressed together much as Becky’s had been. Obviously Rachel hadn’t heard the end of this, but at least maybe her mother would wait until the children were in bed to discuss it.

By then, she’d have to find some measure of calm to deal with her parents’ concerns, and she wasn’t sure where that was going to come from.

“I’m going out to check the animals before it gets any darker.” She dried her hands quickly on a dish towel. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

She escaped out the back door before her father could offer to do it for her.

BOOK: Rachel's Garden

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