Brush of Angel's Wings (32 page)

A grin spread over his face. “I suppose we'll know that soon.”

Nathaniel positioned himself at the head of the bed and kept watch over the room. Except to continue ministering to Rachel, he hadn't received additional instructions. He wanted to offer some form of comfort to the man—even a small amount of peace in the midst of this trial. But a response to the man's requests for comfort from the Savior had not yet been given. Even Nathaniel didn't understand delays from the Almighty.

Chapter Twenty-Three

J
ordan stepped aside as flames shot up from the forge. The blistering heat created pellets of sweat that scattered across his forehead.

They needed rain.

Until Micah mentioned the uncertainty of a good harvest, Jordan hadn't thought much about the weather, other than wanting it to rain so the unbearable heat would subside. He shaded his eyes, searching the cloudless blue sky for any indication of rain. Not even a shred of a cloud.

“This shoe repair won't be difficult. I already trimmed and rasped the hoof.” Micah pumped the accordion-like bellows over the coal. Next he hammered the molten iron into shape, then submerged it into the water bucket.

In anticipation of which tool Micah would call for next, Jordan selected the driving hammer. He admired the handle's fine wood-grain finish, turning the beautiful tool over and over in his hand.

“That's the hammer
mei
father made,” Micah said.

“He was a fine craftsman.”

“And a fine man.” Micah picked up the mare's leg and positioned the hoof, then held out his hand. “I'm ready for the hammer
nau
.”

Jordan handed him the hammer. “The wood's almost soft.”

Micah tossed it in his hand. “It gave me plenty of calluses.” Micah positioned the square nail and pounded it into the hoof.

“Have I showed you how to make square nails?” He set the next nail.

“Not yet.” Jordan turned when a pickup entered the driveway.

Micah looked up and frowned. “That's Kayla Davy's truck.”

“Jah
,
”
Jordan replied.

“I don't like having too many people around a horse I'm shoeing. Would you see what she needs?”

“Sure.”

Jordan sauntered over to Kayla's truck as she stepped out. “What's up?”

She smiled and pulled her cell phone from her pocket. “Your father sent you another message.”

Rachel propped more pillows behind Sadie to help her sit up, then handed her a plate of scrambled eggs.

Sadie stared at the eggs, then looked up at Rachel. “I won't hold any of this down.”

“At least try. You've gone too long without eating. It isn't
gut
for the
boppli
.” Rachel set a glass of milk on the side table next to the bed. “You probably never thought you would take instruction from your younger sister, ain't so?”

Sadie reached over and squeezed Rachel's arm. “I'm glad you're here.” She took the fork and began to poke at the eggs, pushing them around the plate. “How is Timothy doing?”

“He certainly misses your cooking.” Rachel giggled. “The other
nacht
, I boiled
Mamm's
broth dry. By the time I added enough water, it no longer tasted like chicken.”

Sadie cracked a smile.

“I want to show you what I've been working on.” Rachel plucked her sewing off the dresser. She sat on the edge of the bed and unfolded the material. “It's a shirt.”

“
Jah
, it looks great, Rachel. You will be a fine seamstress yet.”

“It's for Jordan. I used one of Timothy's shirts as a pattern, only I made it a larger size.” She folded the royal blue material. “You can look at it later when you're feeling better.”

“I'm sure you did a—” Sadie grimaced.

“What's wrong?”

“I woke earlier with pains in
mei
side, and here they come again.”

“Pains? The
boppli
?” She pushed the shirt aside.

Sadie's forehead wrinkled and sweat sprouted on her forehead. “Take this food away, please.”

Rachel grabbed the plate. “I'll get you a cool rag.” She hurried out of the room and wet a washcloth with cold tap water. Sadie let out a sharp cry and Rachel rushed back.

Rolling to her side, Sadie clutched her belly. “I'm going to be sick.”

Rachel spotted a small tin trashcan next to the dresser and handed it to her sister. “Use this—”

Sadie tensed, hung her head into the can, and vomited. She lifted her head slowly, as though it weighed too much, her eyes droopy.

Rachel pulled the can from Sadie's arms as her sister fell back against the bed.

The stench inside the can was so strong, Rachel's stomach rolled. She peered at the greenish bile-looking stuff and fear shot through her. “I'm going to fetch Timothy.” Rachel moved to the door, taking the foul can with her. Without taking time to slip into her shoes, she dropped the waste bin outside and raced barefoot across the lawn to his workshop. She yanked the door open. “Something's wrong with Sadie.”

Timothy dropped his mallet and pushed past her.

Rachel followed but couldn't keep up with his long strides.

Sadie's cry carried down the hall. “The
boppli
! The
boppli
!”

As Rachel entered the bedroom, Timothy was bending over the bed, stroking his
fraa's
cheek. “Stay calm, Sadie.” He kept his voice even, but when he glanced at Rachel, panic filled his eyes. “I have to get help.”

“I'll hitch the buggy.”

“I'm faster.” He sped to the door.

Rachel followed. “I've never delivered a
boppli
.”

“I haven't either. Keep her calm. Maybe the
boppli
won't
kumm
.” Timothy glanced down the hall, then returned his focus to Rachel. “I'll stop at
Mamm's haus
, then go after the midwife.”

“Do you have the letter in case the midwife isn't back yet? You'll need the emergency number she sent.”

“Don't panic, Rachel,” he said, barely holding back his own. He pulled the crumpled letter from his pocket and stuffed it back in.

Rachel opened the door for Timothy. “Take Ginger, she's faster.”

Sadie screeched.

“Hurry, Timothy.” Something told her this wouldn't be anything like delivering a calf. She headed back to the bedroom. Ach
, Lord, let the
boppli
live .
. . “Please, God,” she whispered as she stepped into the bedroom.

Sadie was curled into a fetal position with her arms clutching her knees. “Something's
nett
right.”

Rachel placed her hand on Sadie's forehead and gasped. “You're boiling.” Beet-red patches had developed on Sadie's face. Rachel clutched the wet rag and spread it over her sister's forehead. “Timothy's gone for help.”

“I'm frightened. Promise me you'll be here to help with the
boppli
. If anything happens—”

“Help is
kumming
. Don't panic.”

Please don't panic
.

Jordan read the message again. “He's here, in Hope Falls?”

“I contacted him and said I would give you his message,” Kayla said.

“He's in town,” Jordan mumbled to himself.

Her brows arched. “Isn't this what you wanted?” Kayla touched his shoulder and he flinched. “Jordan?”

He looked over at Micah hammering, then turned his attention toward the kitchen window. Rachel wasn't home, he had to remind himself. He'd already caught himself trying to catch a glimpse of her standing in front of the window several times today.

“I shouldn't have contacted him for you. I'm sorry.” She tossed the phone onto the front seat.

“Don't be.” He stopped her before she climbed into her truck. “I'm surprised he responded. I never expected him to . . . care.” Jordan hadn't expected his stomach to knot either. This was his dream—wasn't it?

Kayla smiled. “Well, do you want a ride into town?”

“Can you come back in an hour or two? I have some errands to run first.”

She looked beyond him toward the shoeing area and smiled. “Okay, I'll see you in a couple of hours.” She climbed into the cab of the pickup and cranked the engine.

“Jordan?” she called from her window opening.

“Yes?”

She held up her phone. “Do you want me to call him to say you're coming?”

The glare reflecting off the phone's rhinestone case was too distracting; he looked away. “That would be nice, thanks.”

Sweat trickled from under his hat and rolled down the back of his neck. Saying good-bye wouldn't be easy, especially to Rachel.

“Everything okay?” Micah lowered the horse's hoof and stepped away from the animal. “You look dazed. Something troubling you,
sohn
?”

“My father's here. In Hope Falls.” The words sounded foreign.
My father . . .
His father wanted to see him.

Micah's eyes glazed. “You being here meant so much to me, so much to us.
Denki
.”

“I appreciate you giving me a job and a place to stay.” Jordan tilted his face upward, as though his eyes could reabsorb the tears.

Micah unlatched the horse and handed the lead to Jordan. “Would you put the horse back in the stall? I'll be back in a minute.” He lumbered toward the house.

Jordan's chest tightened. “This is the right decision,” he reminded himself.

Tangus hovered in the barn shadows. “Why are you even doubting? Haven't you longed for this day since you were a child? Weren't there times you prayed for it?”

Jordan led the horse into the stall and closed the gate. Not ready to leave, he wandered over to the calf pen. The calf walked around its mother. She was so steady and sure of herself. It was hard to believe she had needed a few thumps on the chest to get her to breathe.

Micah came up beside him and leaned against the pen. “She's putting on weight,
jah
?”

“She looks strong.”

Micah moved off the fence. He dug into his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash. “
Denki
again—”

Jordan backed away. “No, I won't take it.”

Micah extended his hand. “This is your money. You earned it.”

Jordan gently pushed his hand away. “You said the crops might not make it. You'll need the money to get through the winter.”

Micah smiled. “I also told you that God will provide. He will. He's never left us hungry.” Micah reached for Jordan's hand and forced the money into it. “You've given me more than help with the farm. I hadn't realized the deep void in
mei
life after losing James.” He pressed his lips together before speaking. “
Nau
I'm aware of
mei
need to surrender that to God.”

Jordan swallowed hard. For Rachel's sake, he hoped that she had regained her rightful place in Micah's heart. Jordan cleared his throat. “I need to see Rachel before I leave.” He watched as Micah stroked his beard. “Is that okay with you?”