Brush of Angel's Wings (25 page)

“
Ach
, I see who you're staring at,” Naomi said.

Rachel covered her smile behind her hand and nudged Naomi toward the steps. “I still have to prepare
mei yummasetti
.”

Inside, most of the women had gathered in the sitting room to stitch their quilt blocks. A few fussed over Judith Lapp's newborn daughter. Katie Bender asked for many details, no doubt collecting information to write about in the
Budget
. She chatted on, moving her questions to probe Sadie about her pregnancy.

Rachel was glad she had tasks in the kitchen so she could avoid listening to her. She and Naomi rearranged the dishes, salads, and desserts on the long kitchen table.

Naomi filled a pot with water and set it on the cookstove to boil while Rachel gathered egg noodles and other ingredients for the casserole.

Sadie entered the kitchen and plopped into a chair. “Can you believe Katie Bender's boldness?” Sadie rolled her eyes. “She told me I was large enough for triplets.
Nett
twins but triplets!”

“
Ach
, I didn't know you were having twins,” Naomi said, getting a saucepan ready for Rachel to fry the hamburger meat.

“I don't know for certain. My midwife had to leave town unexpectedly. Something about her mother down in Florida falling and breaking her hip.” Sadie fanned her face with her hand. “Is it hot in here?”

“Your face is the color of beets.” Rachel reached into the cabinet and removed a glass. “I'll get you a drink.” She turned on the tap water and filled the glass, then handed it to her sister. “You need to rest.”

Sadie took it gratefully.
“Denki.”

The hamburger began to sizzle and Rachel stirred it so it would brown evenly.

Aenti
Leah came into the kitchen, her empty cup in her hand. The oldest of all
Mamm's
sisters, she still had plenty of spunk even though she'd had her seventieth birthday last fall. Rachel braced for the critical words she knew would follow her
aenti's
appearance.

“Miriam would have brought the kettle into the sitting room if she were here,”
Aenti
said.

“I'm sorry, I've been busy trying to get the
yummasetti
in the oven.”

Aenti
Leah ignored her apology, distracted by Sadie's ankles. “I've never seen someone with your size ankles.”

Many expressions crossed her sister's face, but Rachel knew she would swallow the painful words and say nothing to her
aenti
. She didn't usually listen to responses anyway.

She peered into the pot of noodles, then glanced at Rachel. “Did you add oil so they don't stick?”

“Jah, Aenti.”
Her
aenti
never failed to offer cooking advice at every gathering.

“Salt?”

Naomi got the kettle of hot water. “Can I refill your cup?”

Aenti
smiled at Naomi. “Certainly, dear.”

“I noticed you brought your needlepoint. Maybe you could show me how to do the basket weave stitch.” Naomi put the kettle on the stove and guided
Aenti
Leah out of the kitchen.

Once alone with Sadie, Rachel said, “Why did
Aenti
say that about your ankles? I thought worrying about weight was vanity.” She leaned closer to Sadie. “Besides,
Aenti
Leah could shed a few pounds herself, ain't so?”

Water from the noodle pot bubbled over and sizzled on the stove. Rachel grabbed a pot holder and strained the noodles. Then she assembled the
yummasetti
and slid the dish into the oven. She peered out the window toward the field. “They're making
gut
progress.”

Sadie groaned.

Rachel spun toward her sister. “What's wrong?”

Sadie's face grimaced as she held the side of her belly with her palm.

“Sadie?”

Her sister puffed a few quick breaths through pursed lips.

“I'm going to help get you into bed so you can rest.” Rachel weaved her arm around her sister and supported her as she stood.

“Denki,”
Sadie said once they were in the bedroom.

Rachel turned down the quilt and helped ease Sadie onto the mattress. In the few steps it took to reach the bedroom, beads of sweat had laced Sadie's forehead.

“I'll bring you more water.” Rachel rushed back to the kitchen. She wished her mother were home—
Mamm
would know what to do.

Naomi slipped into the kitchen. “What's wrong with Sadie?”

“I'm not sure. Maybe it's just discomfort,” Rachel said, filling a glass with tap water. “It must be very difficult and exhausting to be so much bigger than normal.”

Naomi nudged her. “That might be us one day.”

“
You
, you mean. Just you.” Rachel nudged her back. “I'm going to be the teacher, remember?”

Naomi snorted. “
Nay
. You're going to be married too, Rachel. I know you will.”

“I'm glad someone has hope, because I sure don't.”

Naomi put her arm around Rachel's waist. “I do have hope. Besides, I will need your help when I am carrying my
boppli
. And I will help you with yours.”

Rachel said nothing, her mind in turmoil; thoughts of wanting so much to be married being squashed by reality. It was not good for hope to be for naught.
“Hope deferred makes the heart sick,”
Proverbs said. If she did not hope in such things as were unattainable, then she would not have her heart sick, ain't so? No matter how often she spoke to God about his will, he seemed silent. Maybe he was disappointed with her as well.

Her friend dropped her arm to look out the window. “Here they
kumm
.” Naomi touched her prayer
kapp
and flitted across the room like a hummingbird drawn to nectar.

Rachel surveyed the containers of food. Everything looked in order. “I'll run this water to Sadie and be right back.”

On her way out, Katie was on her way in. “Is there anything that I can help do?”

“You can set out the silverware, please,” Rachel said.

“Is this your apple pie, Katie?” Naomi peeled the tinfoil off a pie pan.

“
Jah
, it was James's favorite.”

Rachel froze. She knew her
bruder
loved apple pie, but she hadn't thought about it being the reason Katie always brought it to the get-togethers.

Silverware clanged as Katie unloaded the drawer. The back door opened and Jordan and Timothy entered.

“Hey, where are you going?” Jordan asked Rachel as he dusted his hands against his pants legs.

Rachel held up the glass of water. “I'll be back in a minute. I'm taking this to Sadie.”

“Is something wrong?” Timothy asked.

“She's
nett
feeling well. I convinced her to rest.”

“I'll take that to her.” Timothy took the glass of water and moved past her in the hall.

Moments later several other men spilled inside, entering through the front and back doors. Rachel smoothed her dress with the palms of her hands and took a deep breath. She reassured herself that there would be plenty of room for all. Jordan had placed extra chairs in the sitting room, and some of the younger people would take their plates out to the porch. After all, she reminded herself, this group was nowhere near the size of the church gatherings they'd held.

She clasped her hands together as she thought about what she needed to do next. She wished
Mamm
were here. She'd hoped Sadie would help. She'd never hosted a gathering of any kind and wasn't sure what to do.

Jordan came close behind her. “What did you make?”

She gasped. She'd forgotten her dish in the oven.
“Ach nay!”
She ran to the far end of the kitchen, grabbed two pot holders from the drawer, then opened the oven door. The heat blasting her face wasn't nearly as shocking as the stench of burnt cheesy noodles.

She pulled the dish from the oven and set it on a cooling rack. Her loud gasp and cry brought the one person to the kitchen she did not want to be there.
Aenti
Leah's frowning face halted her from checking Jordan's reaction, as she feared they mirrored one another.

Jordan took a plate and moved to the stove. “If you don't mind, I'll be first in line. Just to get the others moving, you know.” He winked.

“Jordan, there is other stuff to eat,” she whispered.

“This is what I want.” He scooped a large portion of the
yummasetti
onto his plate. “There isn't anything wrong with this food.” He took his plate to the table laden with food to add a pickle, two slices of bread, and a spoonful of coleslaw before exiting through the outside door. He stopped at the edge of the porch and leaned against the railing before taking a bite of the
yummasetti
. Rachel tried to pretend she was tidying up around the sink with a washrag, when really, she was watching him as he tasted her noodles. He didn't grimace. He didn't spit it out into the bushes. Instead, he reloaded his fork without hesitation.

Perhaps it wasn't so awful after all.

She took a dish and spooned a small sample onto her plate. When she tasted it, she did not want to reload her fork. She
did
grimace and she
did
want to spit it out. It tasted burnt. Nasty.

She looked out the window again at Jordan who was eating everything on his plate.

Either he had no sense of taste or . . . or what? Was he just being kind? Or was he trying to prove something? But what would he want to prove?

The other men, jovial and chatting about the work they'd done, passed through the line. Rachel stood in front of the
yummasetti,
blocking it from anyone who might mistakenly think it was an edible dish.

Naomi came up, holding her clean, empty plate. “How did yours turn out?”

“It burned. Don't bother.”

“Well, someone took a big chunk out of it.”

Rachel cast a glance at the kitchen window. Jordan was plainly visible, taking bites from his pickle, laughing as he spoke with his
onkel
Isaac.

Naomi patted Rachel's arm. “Maybe he won't find out it's yours.”

“He knows it's mine and I told him
nett
to eat it.”

“I'd say he likes you,” she whispered. Naomi tapped her plate. “The men have all gone through the line; let's make our plates and go out to the porch.”

Rachel agreed, but she refused to eat more
yummasetti
. Instead, she chose half of a peanut butter sandwich and a spoonful of potato salad.

As they stepped outside, Jordan tipped his empty plate in Rachel's direction while
Onkel
Isaac explained an idea he had for better irrigation.

Rachel followed Naomi to the far side of the porch. Katie stood on the other side, alone, starring at the
grossdaadi haus
.

Naomi pointed at Katie with her fork. “Don't you find it strange what Katie said about bringing James's favorite dish?”

Rachel thought about it. Was it strange? “They were engaged.”

“But James has been gone—I'm sorry.”

Two years.

Until today, Rachel hadn't given much thought to Katie's loss. Rachel lost her
bruder
, but Katie lost the love of her life.

And in some ways, her future.

The screen door opened and Jordan carried another heaping plate of food—the
yummasetti
. His
onkel
had stepped away to talk to the other men, so he strolled over to her side of the porch. He pretended he didn't see her and directed his attention to William and Peter. “You should have eaten some of this. This is the best dish by far.”

Peter looked at Jordan's plate. “I didn't see that.”

“Me either,” William said.

Jordan grinned. “Rachel made it.” He loaded his fork. “It's
gut
.”

Rachel caught his last word.
Gut
. He almost never used any of their words. She closed her eyes against the thought that wanted to surface. She shut it down quickly, because of course he'd use the word with his Amish friends. It was nothing more than that.

“I've had enough,” William said, patting his stomach. “I'm afraid nothing more would fit.”

“I think I'll try some.” Peter started for the door. “I'm never too full to try something good.”

“Too late. It's gone.” Jordan tipped his plate.

Had he eaten the entire casserole? Surely not. So who else had? She cringed, hoping no one else felt bad about upending it in the bushes.

But why would Jordan make a public fuss about her cooking?

She took the last bite of her sandwich and noticed Katie heading alone into the woods. She drew in a deep breath; even she hadn't gone back to the river since James's death. How often had Katie gone?

Jordan leaned toward Rachel, interrupting her thoughts.

“I would like to take a walk with you after everyone leaves,” he whispered. “Please. There's something I want to show you.”

Chapter Eighteen