Brush of Angel's Wings (23 page)

“I'll help you sew.”

Sadie looked surprised. “What's up? Something is if you're offering to sew.” She shifted in her seat, trying to get more comfortable. “Tell me about Jordan. Is he talking about joining the church?”

“He wants to be a truck driver.” Rachel continued washing the dishes. She didn't want to chance Sadie recognizing disappointment in her expression.

“I'm sorry to hear that.”

Rachel used the back of her hand to wipe some stray hair from her cheek. “I don't know why.”

“Keep your distance. You don't want to fall in love. Unless he's committed to the church and—”

Rachel held up her sudsy hand. “I know.” She wiped her hands on her apron and took the cookie jar off the counter to distract Sadie's thoughts. “Want a cookie?”

Just as Sadie reached her hand inside the jar, the back door opened and Jordan and Timothy entered. Timothy took one look at the cookie in Sadie's hand and frowned. “The midwife said you've already gained more weight than you should for your entire pregnancy.”

“Since when did your
fraa's
weight bother you?” Rachel had never heard him mention anything about Sadie's appearance.

“Since her blood pressure has soared.” He winked at Sadie.

“You know what the midwife said.”

Sadie put the cookie into Timothy's outstretched hand. “He's right. I don't want bed rest.”

Rachel passed the jar to Timothy. “You'll eat an extra one for Sadie,
jah
?”

“I'd be happy to,” he said as he put his hand in the jar.

Jordan reached for one next. “Timothy thinks we should burn the stumps instead of pull them out.”

“It'll be safer.”

Rachel filled two glasses with milk. One she handed to Timothy and the other to Jordan.

“Rachel and I can work on the stumps in the morning.” Jordan dunked his peanut butter cookie into the milk.

“Bishop Lapp has gathered a crew to help with the planting tomorrow.”

Rachel twisted her apron around her hands.

“Is there a problem?” Timothy asked.

“
Nay
. . . I just . . .” She looked at Sadie. “What will I make to feed them all?”

“You could always make
hinkel
dumplings. Those are easy to prepare.”

Rachel glanced at Jordan's lopsided grin. No,
hinkel
wasn't an option. “Any other ideas?”

“You could make
yummasetti
. There should be a jar of canned hamburger in the cellar.”

“Thank you.” Rachel was not pleased with her options, but the simplest way to drop the subject was to agree with her sister.

Timothy drained his glass of milk and set it next to the cookie crumbs spilled on the table. “We should head home, my
fraa
.”

He stood and helped Sadie up from the chair, his eyes filled with concern and care.

I want a husband like that
. It was like Rachel's heart whispered the prayer to God. She felt herself blush, as though the others had heard her thoughts.

“Don't worry about tomorrow,” Sadie said. “There will be plenty of food.”

Rachel forced a smile. Her sisters didn't understand. They couldn't. They were so different from her. Why had God made her that way?

She waited until Sadie and Timothy were gone before turning to Jordan, hand on her hip, pretending to be annoyed. “I saw your expression.”

He didn't deny what she saw. “It doesn't matter. I ate dumplings today and I'll eat them tomorrow.”

“I don't believe you.”

“Try me.” He stepped toward the door, reaching for the handle. “You want to take a walk?”

Rachel's heart fluttered. “Sure,” she said, keeping her tone neutral.

“I want to check out the stumps that need to be burned.”

Together they stepped outside and down the stairs. They ambled silently to the east field. Rachel marveled at how she almost never felt uncomfortable with the silence that often accompanied them when they were together.

At the first stump, Jordan walked around the perimeter, eyeing the gnarled deadwood. Rachel watched him, noticing everything about how he moved, squatted, inspected the problem before him. She liked how he took it all in, seeming to examine it carefully within before coming up with a solution. His decisions didn't appear to be rash or impulsive.

Jordan straightened and Rachel pretended to be interested in something off in the distance. “Let's go find the other ones. On our way I'd like to check out the river.”

Rachel froze.

“I found some old newspapers in the little house and I read about the angel sighting and—” He stopped and turned. “You're not coming?”

Rachel held her aching heart. “I don't go to the river anymore.”

She drew in a hitched breath and pivoted so she wasn't facing him. “And there hasn't been an angel around here in two years.”

Nathaniel sighed. “I've been here with you all along, child. I've been assigned to encamp around you and minister to your needs.” He lifted his focus upward. “Why do they need to see before they will believe?”

“I'm sorry. I forgot about the river . . . and your brother.”

She looked down at the dirt. “Who told you about James?”

“Micah told me,” he said softly. “I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to stir up painful memories.”

Unable to speak, she nodded.

“Open your heart. God hears your cry,” Nathaniel whispered.

Jordan took her shoulder and gently turned her toward the house. “Let's go back and sit on the porch.”

She walked with her head down, needing to say something she was ashamed of. “I didn't like you at all when you first
kumm
to stay.”

“So you say.” He gently nudged her. “You pointed out how my milk bucket wasn't full.”

A funny image came to mind—Jordan flexing his stiff hands after milking. She lifted her head, smiling. Then the smile faded as the image grew fuller. “I didn't treat you well.” She scuffed her feet over the damp soil. “I've wanted to help my father since James died, and then you
kumm
to stay and—”

“And you think I've tried to take James's place?”

“Haven't you?” She didn't want to sound accusing. She just wanted to know.

“I needed a job. That's all.”

She didn't like the twinge that pricked her heart at his words.

He nudged her shoulder with his. “I still don't get all the milk out of a cow.”

She cracked a smile.

They took a few steps in silence when Rachel just let the words come. “James planned to marry Katie Bender. They were going to live in the
grossdaadi haus
and he was supposed to shoe horses with
Daed
.” Her words ran together. “I didn't want an outsider to replace James in
mei daed's
heart.”

Chapter Sixteen

T
hick smoke from the burning stump engulfed Jordan when the wind shifted. All morning the dense, soot-filled air had trailed them each step they took.

Rachel coughed but didn't attempt to move. He reached for her elbow and guided them both out of the flow.

“Go inside. I can handle this,” he said.

“I want to help.” She rubbed her sooty hands over her eyes, leaving a ring of black smudges around them.

“You look like a raccoon.”

She wiped her eyes but made them darker.

Jordan reached for her hand and brought it away from her face, turning it palm up so she could see the soot and dirt.

She laughed. “I made it worse, didn't I?”

“Oh no. I kind of like it.” He moved in front of her, pretending to study her face. “You missed a few places.” He dragged his dirty thumbs over her cheekbones, then dotted her nose. “Now you're irresistible.” The words slipped out before he could catch them.

Rachel heard. He could see it in her eyes. But he couldn't tell what she thought of them. He dropped his hands and moved to check the fire—the easiest way out of his mistake.

“This stump is under control.”

He picked up the water buckets. “Let's go get the last one.”

Rachel grabbed the shovel and a bucket. “Do you think that one is too close to the woods?”

“It might be.” He studied the stump as he approached. Because it wasn't centered in the field like the others, they could plant crops around it without much difficulty. On the other hand, the surrounding trees looked fine, and their green leaves were still—the breeze had died down.

Jordan set the buckets on the ground and took the shovel from Rachel. Within a few minutes, he'd created a long trench separating the woods and the stump.

“That barricade should help keep the fire from spreading.” He swept his shirtsleeve over his sweaty brow, then doused the dead maple stump with the turpentine and set it on fire.

Black smoke curled from the burning stump to the sky. Beside it, Tangus exhaled, his sulfurous breath adding to the dense cloud. He sang, enticing other demonic spirits to join him in circling the flame. As they did, they thickened the blanket of smoke. The suspended soot particles began to choke the subjects.

Jordan covered his mouth and nose with his hand. He placed his other hand on Rachel's lower back, directing her to move with him to the opposite side of the wall of smoke.

Tangus sucked in the fumes and exhaled a hideous discharge from deep within his core. His companions joined in the folly of chasing the twosome's every move with their poisonous, powdery vapors.

With the embers stirred, sparks flickered toward the wooded area. The subjects were blinded with smoke and didn't see the brush ignite.

Nathaniel whirled in revolutions no human eye could follow. Disguised within a cyclone of sand, he moved over the wooded area and smothered the fire.

“God has not permitted you to destroy the land,” Nathaniel declared.

“I'm just amusing myself,” Tangus called out from behind his evil colleagues. With so many sets of eyes to mask, Tangus hated being anywhere near the light Nathaniel radiated from standing in God's presence. Walled off by his companions, he used them as a shield to brazenly approach the fire. After a quick stirring of the roasting embers, sparks skittered toward the subjects.

Rachel shielded her eyes from the flames' roaring intensity, trying to find her way out.

“Rachel!”

She opened her eyes to see Jordan drop to the ground, swatting his flaming shirtsleeve.

“Help him, God,” Rachel cried out loud as she snatched a water bucket and tossed the water over his arm. The flame extinguished. She dropped the bucket and collapsed to her knees next to him. “Please, God, don't let him be hurt too badly.”

“Thanks,” Jordan croaked. He lifted his unaffected hand to her face. “Don't cry. You prayed and God answered.” He winced and dropped his hand.

She stared at his arm. He needed more water. She reached for another full bucket.

Jordan rolled to his good side and boosted himself upright. “I'm not—”

She drenched his arm with the water.

“What was that for? The fire was out.” He wiped his wet face with the sleeve of his unaffected arm.

“Even a turkey keeps cooking after it's removed from the oven.” She eyed another bucket.

“No more. I'm—” he rasped. “I'm—”

“You're wheezing.”

He pushed off the ground and stood. “I'll be all right.” But as he spoke, his neck and chest muscles retracted with each laborious breath.

Rachel doused the smoldering stump with the remaining bucket of water. Steam hissed from the charred wood.

Jordan doubled over, coughing.

“Let's get you help.” Before he denied assistance, she put her arm around his waist. Although his breathing had eased by the time they reached the yard, she didn't want to take any chances. “I'll harness Ginger and take you to the clinic.”