Brush of Angel's Wings (26 page)

J
ordan crossed his arms and leaned against the porch banister watching the groups laughing and talking around him. Some of the men rocked back on their feet as they listened. Some gesticulated to emphasize their point. A few of the younger members paired off to eat together. Children raced around in and about the adults until they were shooed away to find a better place to play.

He wanted to step off the porch and become a part of one of the conversations. But the more he attempted to mingle among the large families, the more he realized how disconnected he was from these people.

He pushed off the railing. If he had to wait until everyone left to show Rachel his surprise, he might as well muck out the barn. As he lumbered toward the toolshed to get the wheelbarrow,
Onkel
Isaac trotted toward him.

“Off to start the afternoon chores early?”

“Jah.”
Jordan was falling more and more into using words he'd refused to use growing up as the other kids would make fun of him.

Onkel
Isaac wiped his forehead with his hankie and jammed it into his front pocket. “I didn't get the chance to tell you during the meal. You did
gut
out there. Grace would be proud.”

“Thank you.” His mother would probably be proud that he had stayed this long with her kin. “My rows are not the straightest.”

“The seed will still grow,” Isaac said. “If it's God's will to send the proper amount of rain and sunshine, it won't matter if it's growing in circles.”

“
Denki
,
Onkel
. That is more kindness than I deserve.”

Onkel
Isaac slapped him on the back. “God gives us all more kindness than we deserve. It's good to pass it along.”

Jordan heard so many people in the world say things that sounded good but never live them out. Yet everything said here was followed up by actions that proved it.

“I don't really understand—” At that moment Jordan caught sight of Smokey hunched in a pounce position, his concentration focused on the fledglings tucked in their nest on his porch, calling for their mama to bring them food. In a flash he rushed over and scooped the cat into his arms. The cat fought to get free, his claws digging into Jordan's arm. Jordan pinned the growling cat tight against his chest until the cat stopped his battle. The cat wasn't happy, the tip of his tail snapping back and forth. “I'll be right back,” he called to his
onkel
. He sneezed all the way into the little house, his eyes watering until they dripped.

With one hand he picked up the wicker basket filled with newspaper and upended it on the floor. With determination and quick movements he shoved the cat into the basket and slammed the lid on Smokey before he could escape. Another growl came from inside the basket. “Sorry, Smokey. I know Rachel loves you, but you need to find a new home for a while.”

Onkel
Isaac appeared at the door. “Need any help?”

“Sure. Will you hold the lid closed while I get some twine?” He sneezed.

Onkel
Isaac looked bemused. “I think I missed what happened.”

“Smokey was after some baby robins—” He sneezed several times in quick succession.

“Allergic,
jah
?”

“Jah.”
Jordan rubbed his nose quickly, trying to rid it of the tickle. “Can the cat go home with you until those birds are strong enough to fly?”

“Sure.”

“I'll get something to tie the basket closed.” Jordan jogged to the barn, found some twine, and hurried back. He worked to secure the lid, then placed the basket in his
onkel's
buggy. “I'll come get him as soon as that nest is empty.”

“Don't worry about the cat. He'll adapt to a new barn just fine,”
Onkel
Isaac said as he climbed into the buggy. After a quick wave, he flicked the reins and the horse trotted down the drive.

Jordan walked to the toolshed, brushing cat hair off his sleeves as he went, sneezing every couple of steps. Once he retrieved the wheelbarrow, he rolled it to the barn. He stopped at the calving pen to check on Wendy. He didn't really know what to look for, so the extent of his checking involved looking for a new calf in the pen. He knew Rachel looked in on her frequently, so he wasn't too worried. Certainly not as concerned as she was.

Jordan filled the wheelbarrow with animal waste, then dumped the contents outside on the compost pile, his thoughts focused on the words
Onkel
Isaac had said to him.

“You shouldn't be doing that.”

He looked up to see Rachel coming toward him. “If you get that burn infected—”

“It's healed.”

Her cute button nose scrunched. “You're just saying that.” She reached for his arm.

He moved it away. “No, really. I'm okay, Doc.” He grasped the wooden handles of the wheelbarrow and gave it a push over the mound of dirt and back into the barn where he leaned it against the rafter post.

“Prove it.”

He removed his gloves. “All right.” He pulled the hem of his shirt from his trousers and unfastened the eye hooks. “It's what I wanted to show you.” Stepping into the lamplight, he slipped his arm out of his sleeve.

Rachel lifted her hand to shield her eyes.

He stopped. “I think it's okay, Rachel. You saw me earlier without a shirt. I really don't want to make it difficult for you, so if it is, I won't show you.”

Rachel lowered her hand slowly, looking uncertain.

Jordan waited.

“Okay.”

He slipped his other arm out of the sleeve and peeled the bandage from the wound. “Look at this.”

Her eyes widened. She took a closer look.

“It's gone.”

“How can that be?” She gingerly touched his skin where the burn had been. “
Nett
even a discolored blemish.”

“God healed it,” he said. “It's like it never happened. Weird, huh?”

Rachel touched her prayer
kapp
. She touched the skin again, a light, feathery touch. Everything in him wanted her to continue. So he quickly slipped his arms back into the sleeves of the shirt and fastened the hooks, turning his back to her as he did so.

“Wundebaar.”
She touched his shoulder. “Jordan,
nau
you know that God hears your prayers. He loves you.”

“You aren't surprised?” His heart beat in a way that made him feel a little faint. He faced her.

She cocked her head, considering him. “Yes. And no.”

“Why not?”

Her eyes looked beyond him. “The angel.”

“The one I read about?”

“Yes.” Her voice was as soft as her feather-like touch. Yet she still did not look at him. “He healed little Samuel.”

He wanted to ask why the angel had not healed her brother. But that would be too cruel. And it didn't make sense. Why had God healed his arm as though the burn had never been there, yet her
daed
suffered greatly from his leg wound?

“I saw you tying up the basket. What was in it?”

Her abrupt change of subject took him a moment to track. Then he latched on. “Smokey.”

“What? I know you don't like the cat, but that doesn't—”

He put up his hand to stop her. “He was getting ready to pounce on the baby birds.”

Her flare of anger dissipated. “Did he get any of them?”

“I got to him first.”

She put her hand to her chest. “
Gut
. I'm glad.
Denki
. Did you give him to your
onkel
?”

“Yes, just until those birds can fly. Okay? Then I promise I'll go get him.”

“Okay.” She fingered the strings of her prayer
kapp
.

“I know how important he is to you.”

She looked up at him, her eyes filled with gratitude.

They stood there an awkward moment. Jordan cleared his throat. “I want to finish mucking out the barn before I . . . leave.”

Her forehead crinkled. “You're leaving?”

“The fields are all planted.”

“Will you be going back to work for Kayla Davy's father?”

“No. I might be an
Englischer
, but I'm not interested in her.”

She looked as though she didn't believe him. She watched herself smooth the folds of her dress as though she couldn't look at him as she spoke her next words. “You don't have to be an
Englischer
. Bishop Lapp can help you.”

“Rachel, I . . .”

She looked at him, her eyes speaking words he could not understand.

“Do you think I've changed my mind?” He tried to speak gently, but it seemed as though his words slapped her. “From the very beginning I told you I wouldn't be staying. That I'm not Amish and never planned to be.”

Confusion filled her expression. “I don't understand. You were so kind to eat the food I cooked even though it was terrible. I thought . . .”

Realization hit him of what he had he done. “Rachel, I'm sorry if I've given you the wrong idea.”

“Then why—”

“I ate your food so the unmarried men wouldn't find out it was burnt. I want them to see you in a different way. I want you to be chosen—” He couldn't say any more. The clenching in his stomach and the sickness in his heart stopped him.

She wrapped her arms around her waist. “Why do I need to be seen in a different way?”

“Well . . . Timothy said you haven't attracted a husband because—”

“Because I can't cook?”

“Partly. But that's not new information, is it?”

“Nay.”
Tears sprang to her eyes and she blinked several times. “What else did he say?”

He considered whether or not he should tell her more.

“Please tell me.”

“You're too competitive. It's hard for a man to feel he is weaker than a woman.”

She put her hand over her mouth, tears beginning to slip down her cheeks.

“I'm sorry. I didn't want to hurt you.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“You said
mei
cooking wasn't that bad.”

“I'm not Amish.” He kicked a clod of dirt, wishing he could kick himself. “And never will be.”

“So you said.”

“I told you, I want to go different places. See the country. Understand why my father left us.”

“And you have to drive a truck to do that?”

He couldn't miss the sarcasm in her voice.

“It's a good living. Nothing to tie you down.”

“Fine. Go. But I think you're confused.”

“Confused about what?”

Her eyes flashed. “Everything.”

Rachel stepped out of the house when she heard the car driving down their road. She shielded her eyes from the setting sun, wondering who among the
Englisch
would be coming down their drive. When she recognized the car, she gave a shriek of delight. “
Daed! Daed's
home!”

Jordan emerged from the barn, wiping his hands on a rag.

Rachel ran down the porch steps and threw open the rear passenger door. She leaned in to give her father a hug. “I'm so glad you're home. How's your leg? Are you still in pain?” She knew she sounded as though she were ten years younger, her words spilling out in bunches.

Daed
forced a smile. “The pain isn't bad. It's
gut
to be home.”

Rachel moved out of the way when she felt Jordan's tap on her shoulder. “Let me help you, Micah.” Jordan leaned over to put one arm around Micah's shoulders and offer the other for Micah to use as leverage.

Mamm
retrieved a bag from the trunk and set it on the ground. Rachel put her arm around her mother's waist. “I missed you,
Mamm
.” She released her hug and took a second bag from the trunk. “I'll get them both,
Mamm
. You go help
Daed
get settled.”

Mamm
gave her daughter's cheek one stroke with the back of her finger. Rachel closed her eyes to bring the gesture into her heart.

“Your father refused the crutches the hospital wanted to send home,”
Mamm
told her, looking at the two men;
Daed
limping toward the house, favoring his injured leg, and Jordan at his other side, lending support.

“If I have to depend on crutches,”
Daed
said, “I'd rather make
mei
own pair. Their price is ridiculous.” He gritted his teeth. “But I don't expect I'll need them.”

Mamm
threw up her hands. “There is no convincing this man of anything.” She moved ahead of them and up the steps to open the door.

“The fields are planted,” Rachel said.

Daed
smiled at Jordan.
“Gut, denki.”

“It wasn't just me.” Jordan shifted underneath the weight of her father. “The entire settlement came to help.”

“That's what a community is for,”
Daed
said. “But it is far easier to give than to receive.”