Brush of Angel's Wings (12 page)

N
orthern Wisconsin is colder than Michigan.”
Mamm
read to Sadie. “Fanny says April there feels like March here.”

“The way I feel, I'd rather it be cold than hot,” Sadie said, patting her belly. Five months pregnant and Sadie looked debilitated sitting with her legs propped up on the kitchen chair beside her. Because of her size, nearly everyone believed she would have twins.

Mamm
continued reading highlights from the letter. “Their garden is small. They planted late so they aren't anticipating much yield.”

Rachel went to the kitchen window where she could watch Jordan and
Daed
talking near the barn. She'd read Fanny's and Iva's letters when they arrived yesterday. Then she heard them at dinner as
Mamm
read them aloud to her father.

Mamm's
reading droned on. The part in the letter where Fanny asked about her came next.

“ ‘So Rachel cut Jordan's hair? Should we be saving our money to
kumm
home for a wedding?' ”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “Please tell me you're
nett
going to read that letter at the sewing frolic later.” The thought of entertaining similar comments was dreadful.

Mamm
folded the letter and slipped it back into the envelope. “I'll skip the stuff about you and Jordan when I share the news.”

Gut
. Since last week, Jordan had been colder than a fish stored in the ice
haus
. Even if she wanted, she wouldn't be able to figure out Jordan Engles. Wearing the clothing, suspenders, hat, even the haircut, didn't make him Amish. Her sisters should know, not many outsiders became Amish as adults.

“Timothy says Jordan is a hard worker.” Sadie sipped her tea.

“
Jah
. Your
daed
is very pleased.”

“According to Timothy, Jordan could become a building framer if he wanted.”

The entire family sang Jordan's praises. Rachel frowned. Why couldn't they see he was nothing like Timothy, who was a role model of a
gut
husband for her? If she married, she would want the man to love her the same way Timothy loved Sadie. Rachel wanted someone grounded in faith, who read the Word daily . . . like her
daed
. She closed her eyes.
Grounded in faith
. Why would she require of him the thing she could not do herself? Her own faith was a constant struggle. Not that she had fallen away. She loved God, she just doubted whether she had a purpose. A God-given purpose. From an early age, Sadie knew she wanted to marry and have children. So did Fanny and Iva. Most Amish women shared the same desire. Rachel used to but now had lost hope for marriage and children.

God, please forgive me if I've messed up your purpose for me .
. .

“Sadie? Are you feeling okay? Your face is awfully red,”
Mamm
said.

“It's this heat.” Sadie fanned her face.

“Why don't you go lie down? There's still plenty of time before the women arrive.”

Sadie lowered her feet to the floor. “I think that's a
gut
idea.”

Rachel waited for Sadie to leave before whispering, “Is something wrong?”

“She's retaining a lot of fluid,”
Mamm
said. “But so did Ellen Fischer when she was pregnant with twins.”

Rachel nodded, but one thought led to another and soon she was thinking about her cows near their delivery dates. Since she wasn't working in the barn, she hadn't kept a close eye on them.

Mamm
opened the cookie jar and peered inside. “We can make a batch of peanut butter cookies for the frolic.” She closed the lid. “But first we'll get a load of laundry washed so it can dry on the line while we're quilting.”

“I'll fill the washtub.” Rachel headed to the door. The wash
haus
was near the barn. She could check on the cows while she was out there.

“Be sure to gather Jordan's clothes for washing. He's part of the family,”
Mamm
called out from the kitchen.

“Sure.” She pulled the door open.

Tangus smiled. Rachel's inner rebellion would play nicely into his hands. “Soon your mamm will call him son,” Tangus jeered. “He's part of the family . . . James is no more. Nearly forgotten.” He swooped closer to his prey. “But you can get rid of Jordan. The power is in your tongue. He doesn't want to be here anyway. You would do everyone a favor to convince him to go.”

Rachel kicked a rock, then winced when it didn't budge. Her thoughts were wrong—twisted with sin—but Lord help her, she didn't want to rebuke them.

She opened the door to the wash
haus
and got a bucket to fill with water. It took seven buckets to fill the tub depending on the size of the wash load. She usually sloshed more water on her dress than what made it into the tub.

Opening the door to the
grossdaadi haus
, she paused. The wooden floors shined as if Jordan had applied a fresh coat of mineral oil. As much as she polished the floors in the sitting room, she'd never had them shine like this. She wiped her finger along the fireplace mantel, then inspected it for dust but found no trace. There was no doubt Jordan was tidy. In the bedroom, his clothes were folded neatly too. Rachel plucked the garments he'd worn from the bed. She stopped midway across the wooden floor. Her wet footprints had created a trail from the door to the fireplace to the bedroom. Since the floor would likely dry before Jordan returned, she continued on her way.

A nest made of twigs and straw on the window ledge caught her eye. She rose to her tiptoes and leaned over the porch railing. She counted three bright blue eggs, another wonderful sign from God that it was spring. There were always many nests in the trees about their farm. But it was unusual to find one low enough for her to see into.

Inside the washhouse she dumped the pile of laundry into the water.

The door opened and
Mamm
stepped inside with a basket of dirty clothes. “Room enough for these in the tub?”

“Jah.”
Rachel added the clothes and pushed them under the water. On days like today, she wished they owned a gasoline-powered wringer washer like Naomi's family. But
Mamm
never wanted to ask
Daed
for a gasoline washer, not with a household of women who were able to hand wash. Perhaps now that her sisters were all married, her mother would change her mind about what she termed an expensive convenience.

Mamm
rolled her sleeves to her elbows and dipped the piece of clothing up and down. “Too much soap again.”
Mamm
glanced at Rachel's wet dress. “I see you overfilled the tub too,” she said playfully. She chucked her daughter under the chin. “A husband will expect his
fraa
to be neat and keep a clean
haus
.”

Rachel knew her mother was making light of the situation, but how many times would she hear what a husband expects? She wasn't like her sisters. She tried, failed, and accepted her shortcomings. She only wished her mother and father would.

Rachel cranked the handle as
Mamm
fed the clothes between the rollers. The flattened pants came out the other side and fell into the basket. In between each piece, Rachel changed arms to turn the crank. Some of the heavier work pants of her father's took both hands and all her strength to send through the wringer.

After the last article of clothing fell into the basket, Rachel paused to wipe the back of her neck. She was glad they had a washhouse. She and
Mamm
generated their own heat in the closed area so they didn't require a potbellied stove in the winter. It was tough in the warmer months.

Rachel took hold of the basket. “I'll hang them.” She took the clothes to the line and set the basket on the ground. Rachel reached for a pair of pants and gave them a stiff shake before she clipped them to the line. In the distance, Jordan and
Daed
worked the field. From where she stood, she couldn't see if Jordan's rows were straight. From the way his head was bowed, she decided they were not. He certainly wasn't much of a farmer—he still hadn't brought in a full milk bucket.

Rachel positioned her chair next to the quilting frame. Because of the overcast sky, the diffused light entering the sitting room made watching her mother's hands difficult.

“Make your stitches fine.”
Mamm
drew the needle up from the fabric. “Like so.”

Rachel followed her mother's lead. This wasn't her first sewing lesson—she'd had many—but she still hadn't been able to master stitching. She watched
Mamm
demonstrate how to feed the needle through the fabric and pull the thread taut.

“
Nau
load your sharpie with as many stitches as possible.”

Rachel's already tender fingers fumbled with the needle.

“Gut
,”
Mamm
said. “
Nau
keep your stitches evenly spaced and on a straight line.”

This wasn't an easy task. Rachel would rather keep Clyde plodding straight across the field than aim her needle along an imaginary line.

Judith Lapp rested her hoop over her pregnant belly. “It
kumms
natural after practice, Rachel.”

“
Jah
, for sure and for certain,” Sadie added. Her belly wasn't much smaller than Judith's, yet she had several more months before term and Judith was due any day.

Katie lurched forward to check Rachel's work. “Are you getting the feel for it?”

Rachel forced a smile. “I'm trying.”

“Judith, have you names picked out for the
boppli
?”
Mamm
asked.

Judith shared a smile with her mother-in-law, Mary, Bishop Lapp's
fraa
, before answering, “Andrew Zechariah if a boy, and Mary Elizabeth if a girl.”

“After you, Mary. How lovely.”
Mamm
winked at Sadie. “You'll have to think of names.”
Mamm
beamed. “Maybe twins, ain't so?”

Aenti
Leah turned to
Aenti
Esther. “Twins,” she said loudly.

“I'm
nett
deaf,”
Aenti
Esther replied.

“How is your
bruder
Samuel?” Sadie asked Judith.

Judith's face lit up. “Growing stronger every day. He helps Andrew after
schul nau
.”

Katie looked up from her sewing. “I heard there are plans to build another
schul
.”

“
Jah
, this fall,” Mary Lapp replied.

Rachel waited for someone to mention her as the possible teacher. Not that she hadn't considered asking the bishop for the position. If God intended for her to remain unmarried, teaching would provide an income.

A shadow spilled over Rachel's hoop, making the stitching difficult to see. She glanced out the window at the clouds. “It looks like we're going to get rain.”

“I hope
nett
,”
Mamm
said.

“Ouch.” Rachel pulled her hand out from under the hoop and examined the needle stick. It wasn't bleeding, but it was enough to make her put her work aside until there was more light. She stuck her needle in the fabric to mark her spot. “I'll make
kaffi
.”

“Give me a minute and I'll help.” Naomi quickly finished her block. She was working on a much larger log cabin block. Having mastered her technique years before, Naomi could stitch quickly while alternately lifting her head to carry on a conversation. Naomi had added incentive to finish the quilt for her hope chest now that William had shown interest in courting.

Naomi tied off her thread and pushed her work aside while the others continued looping their stitches. With all the years the womenfolk spent sewing, they could keep a straight line in any amount of light.

Once in the kitchen, Rachel opened the side of the woodstove and fed a few sticks of oak onto the bed of embers. Then she filled the kettle at the sink.

Naomi came up beside her. “I thought it was cute when Jordan called you Red.”

Rachel glanced at the kitchen entry, making sure they were still alone. “He did his best to embarrass me all
nacht
. In front of Peter too.”

“I caught Jordan gazing at you. He pretended not to be part of the group, but he was watching you closely.”

Rachel set the kettle on the stove, then leaned against the counter and crossed her arms. “He thinks he's in charge of me. Like he's
mei bruder
.”

“Your eyes are foggy if you can't see that he wants charge over you, but certainly
nett
like a
bruder
.”

Steam rose from the whistling kettle, expelling a blast that drifted toward the ceiling. Rachel lifted the kettle and placed it on the wire rack away from the direct heat. “Tell me about the size of the garden you put in.” They shared a knowing smile. When a girl started planning a wedding, the family automatically increased the size of the garden. Most information was kept between the couple, but Naomi and Rachel were too close to keep such secrets from each other.