Brush of Angel's Wings (37 page)

Nathaniel knelt beside Rachel. “He gives power to the weak, and to those who have no might He increases strength.” He hoped his prompting would bring to remembrance the scripture she had quoted in the hospital. “Your strength shall be renewed through the Lord.”

Rachel rubbed her eyes. “I am weak, Lord. I ask for your strength.” Even as she spoke the words, her voice fractured and she couldn't hold back the tears again. She drew in a hitched breath and concentrated. The meal needed to be prepared. Ella would wake and be hungry again soon. Rachel had plenty of chores to keep her mind and hands occupied.

“
Jah
, just keep busy,” she said aloud. She chose the three-bean casserole and a jar of pickles, then climbed the wooden stairs to the kitchen. She set the containers on the counter and looked out the window. Timothy's buggy was parked by his shop.

Rachel set the table. An hour passed and Timothy still hadn't come inside to eat. With Ella asleep in her crib, Rachel decided to walk out to the shop.

When she entered, Timothy pivoted away from her, but not before Rachel caught sight of his wet face.

“Lunch is ready,” she said softly.

“I'm
nett
hungry.”

“There's a lot of food left over from—”

“I said I'm
nett
hungry!”

She flinched at his harsh tone and backed out. She would give him the space he obviously needed.

She considered sending someone for the bishop. He could help Timothy through this time.

Rachel kept a plate warm, but Timothy never left his shop. Throughout the afternoon and while she drove home that night, she prayed, cried, and prayed some more. By the time she reached her house and tended to Ginger, she was exhausted.

Mamm
, her two sisters, and Katie Bender sat at the kitchen table, each working on separate quilt blocks.
Mamm
pushed her sewing aside and stood when Rachel entered the room. “Have you eaten?”

“Jah.”

“How're Timothy and the
boppli
?” Fanny asked, her eyes red and a bit puffy.

Rachel wondered how much she should say. “Ella slept most of the day and Timothy closed himself off in his workshop.”
And I fell apart on the cellar floor
.

“Poor Timothy.” Katie's needle went through the fabric in careful, even stitches—without the long pauses Rachel always had. “It's going to be difficult bringing up the
boppli
alone.”

“Rachel is there. She's doing a good job of helping him.”
Mamm
touched Rachel's cheek with tenderness. “The water in the kettle is hot if you want tea.”

“Denki, Mamm.”
Rachel opened the cupboard and removed a cup. She poured steaming water over the tea bag and took her cup to the table. Taking a seat beside Fanny, she asked, “How long can you stay?” She hoped for her mother's sake that it would be another week or two.

“Our bus leaves the day after next.” Fanny put another stitch into her quilt block before she looked up. “I wish we could stay longer, but with this being our first winter in Dalton, we have so much canning to do before it turns cold.” Fanny's words sounded light, but her face held a deep sadness. The sisters battled Sadie's death differently. One tried to live a normal life, the other was barely able to take one step in front of the other.

“Maybe we can afford to make a trip back in a couple of years,” Iva said, her voice laced with longing.

“That would be
wundebaar
.” Rachel tried to sound positive. She dunked her tea bag a few times, then placed it on the saucer. She would rather her tea be weak than steeped too long and keep her from sleeping. “What's it like in your new settlement?” Something felt wrong about speaking of such mundane things when a beloved person was missing from the table.

Daed
joined them, the
Budget
newspaper wadded in his hand. “Another buggy accident in Lancaster.” He shook his head. “Those tourists are
nett
mindful of the road. They're in too big of a hurry or they're trying to take pictures while they drive. Either way they aren't paying attention.”

Fanny picked up her cup and set it in the sink. “Remember how bad the traffic was after news spread that Judith Lapp saw an angel? I thought those people would never leave.”

Katie paused mid-stitch. She kept her focus on the thread, but Rachel knew what she was thinking. She, too, had played a part in the community being overrun with outsiders.

Iva sipped her tea. “Katie, did you hear? Fanny plans to write for our Dalton settlement.”

Katie smiled. “I'm sure you'll enjoy it.”

“The bishop gave his permission. We want more Amish folks to settle. As it is, we only have twelve families.”

“Once word gets out in the
Budget
, your community will grow.” Even in his grief, Rachel realized, her
daed
was so encouraging. “We started out a few families and
nau
we've grown to five church districts. Next month we'll be building another
schul haus
.”

Iva tapped Rachel's arm. “Wouldn't it be
wundebaar
if you got the teacher position?”

“I've been considering it.”

“
Ach
, maybe she found a
bu
since we moved,” Fanny said.

“Nay
,
”
Rachel said softly.

Daed
stood. “That reminds me.” He went over to the desk against the far wall and opened the drawer where
Mamm
kept the stamps. “This picture card
kumm
for you today.”

Rachel stared at the postcard. “For me?” She scanned the snowcapped mountain scene on the front before turning it over. Her breath caught when she read Jordan's words.

I miss you!

Chapter Twenty-Seven

A
m I
nett
your closest friend?” Naomi had her hands on her hips.

“Of course you are.” Rachel glanced around to see what church member was within earshot. Thankfully, no one. “Why do you ask?”

“You've gotten postcards from Jordan and never told me?” She stood with her arms crossed. Her fingers tapped her upper arms in agitation.

Rachel's face heated. “Who told you he sent a postcard?”

“Katie. She said you about tripped over the kitchen chair and then ran up to your room after you read it.”

Rachel glanced at the women putting food on the table and lowered her voice, relieved she could tell her friend. “He only sent me one.” She tried to hide her disappointment. “That was two weeks ago.”

“Well?” Naomi grinned and elbowed her. “What did he say?”

“He said he missed me.” Rachel smoothed her apron, hoping Naomi wouldn't see she missed him too. “We should help serve the meal.” Revealing the secret to her friend was one thing. But she didn't want to admit that she'd checked the mail every day for another card or letter—but none came.

On their way to the house, Naomi asked, “Why haven't you gone to the last two sewing frolics?”

“I've been busy with Ella.” She searched the crowd for the baby. Everyone wanted to love on her. “Today was the first day we've been able to bring her to church. She wasn't supposed to be around large crowds for a while.” She craned her head, still searching for Ella.

“We?” Naomi's brow arched.

“Timothy and me.” Rachel located Anna cradling Ella. “She is a joy to take care of.”

“Surely Timothy doesn't need you to watch her every day. You're missing your youth.”

“What am I missing? A few singings? I don't want to go, Naomi. My heart still aches for Sadie. Sometimes I can barely breathe. Being with Ella helps me move forward.”

“So are you just going to take care of Ella?”

“I'm thinking about asking for the teaching job when the new
schul
is built.”

“
Ach
, only unmarried
maydel
s have that job.”

“What do you think I am, Naomi?”

“It's only temporary.”

“It isn't like someone is interested in marrying me.”

Naomi gave her a wry smile. “Jordan sent you a postcard.”

“One. He's probably forgotten me by
nau
. Besides, he's not Amish and never wants to be.”

Ella's fussing carried over to Rachel. Anna passed the baby to
Mamm
, but Ella continued to cry.

“I should see if they need help,” she said and gave her friend a hug. “I'll speak with you later,
jah
?”

“Jah.”

“What's wrong with Ella?” she asked her mother.

“Colic.”
Mamm
shuffled the baby to her other arm. “Many babies get it.”

Rachel gently stroked Ella's cheek. “You're
bauch shmartzlich
, little one?”

The crying stopped.

Mamm
looked amused. “She sure recognizes your voice.”

Mamm
passed the baby to Rachel. “Let's go inside. You can rock her while I heat a bottle.”

Rachel found a quiet spot to rock Ella. She sat, cradling the little precious one, and hummed a hymn.

Mamm
brought the bottle and handed it to Rachel. “Sadie would be happy with how much you've helped Timothy. I think you're doing a
wundebaar
job too.”

“I'm
nett
sure I'm doing the right thing,” she said, slipping the nipple into Ella's mouth. “Timothy hasn't bonded with his daughter. I've only seen him hold her twice.”

“
Jah
, Anna is concerned about that too. She's concerned she won't be able to continue with the overnight help much longer. Her health is poor.”

Rachel held the baby to her shoulder and rocked from side to side. “I'll do what I can, but he has to take an interest in her. She's his daughter.”

“Chicken and dumplings is today's special,” the waitress said as she pointed to the chalkboard menu.

Jordan glanced at the board. He hadn't eaten chicken and dumplings since he'd choked on Rachel's concoction.

“I know what I want,” Clint said, closing his menu. “I'll take the special.”

She jotted the order on her notepad and looked over her wire reading glasses at Jordan. “And you?”

Jordan closed the menu. “Cheeseburger and fries.”

“After a month aren't you sick of cheeseburgers yet?” Clint teased.

He was, but getting a good home-cooked meal in a diner wasn't likely. A decent meal would remind him of the settlement's church meals, and he'd fought those memories since leaving Michigan.

The waitress brought the food to the table. His father's chicken and dumplings lacked the floating chunks of flour like Rachel's. Jordan smiled. As bad as her cooking was, he missed it. He missed her.

“We'll reach Phoenix tonight.” Clint peppered his dumplings.

“Then where?” He'd kept his eye on the map, hoping they would reach the Grand Canyon during daylight. His father followed a tight schedule, understandably so after he explained the docked pay for late deliveries.

“We have time if you want to see the Grand Canyon.”

Jordan dipped his French fry in ketchup. “That would be great, but are you sure you have time?”

“As long as we're in Vegas by Saturday.” He lifted his coffee cup to his mouth. “This has been a long run. After I get my refrigerated trailer back from the shop, we won't be zigzagging the states anymore.”

Since leaving Michigan, they hadn't stopped other than at the required weigh stations or to eat and refuel. “It's all right. If I'm going to be a truck driver, I'll need to handle long hours on the road.” The words were true, but his heart lacked his former enthusiasm.

“It won't take long to get your Class A.”

“It doesn't seem like it will be too difficult.” He and Clint had talked extensively about the requirements needed to get his license.

Clint jerked his thumb over his shoulder toward the rack of postcards. “I saw you studying those cards. Did you pick some out?”