Brush of Angel's Wings (8 page)

“Jordan's new. I think he would like the singings.”

“I don't know why he would.”

“He could become Amish. It's not impossible.”

“Please don't encourage him to stay.” She wanted to sound firm, not begging. She didn't know if she succeeded or not.

“Your
daed
needs help, and I'm swamped with work myself.”

Daed
didn't need help—he had her. Besides, Jordan wasn't a farmer. He proved that when he stopped milking because his hands were too weak to finish filling a bucket. And he plowed a row so crooked it looked like a snake had slithered through the field.

Timothy stepped toward the table of food. “Looks like the food is ready.”

“
Jah
, I need to get a salad from the buggy,” she said. “Excuse me.”

The men lined up around the tables, except for Jordan, who sat under a tree an unsociable distance away. His auburn hair rippled down the back of his neck and rested on his thick shoulders. If he were wise, he would get a haircut before tomorrow. Since this week's Sunday service was on their side of the district, the bishop would have something to say about the length.

She reached into the buggy and pulled out the salad. With Jordan under a tree, she could walk with her head up, her strides confident.

Sadie tapped her on the shoulder as she set her salad down. “Jordan might be shy. Why don't you make a plate of food and take it to him?”

Rachel didn't care if he was shy. She didn't care if he starved to death.

“He would probably like to sample your pie.”

Rachel grinned as she reached for a plate, her mood suddenly lightened.

“I'm sure he would.”

Jordan turned when someone cleared her throat behind him.

“Hungry?” In one hand Rachel held a plate, and in her other, a glass of tea that she thrust toward him.

Ravenous was more like it. The sandwich, mound of potato salad, and generous slice of pie made his mouth water. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome.” Rachel began to move away, her back toward the table laden with food.

“You didn't say what you made.”

She turned around and walked backward, not slowing her pace. “The rhubarb pie.”

“Then I'll eat that first so I know I'll have enough room for it.”

“
Gut
, you do that.” And then said under her breath, “And choke.”

And choke.
The girl had spirit. He filled his fork with pie. The moment he closed his mouth around it, his lips puckered and he found it difficult to swallow. He washed down the sourness with great gulps of tea. At least she hadn't withheld the sugar from the drink.

Rachel looked over her shoulder at him and he touched the brim of his hat. Although he admired someone with her spunk, he wasn't about to give her any satisfaction of besting him. He took another bite.

Rachel sat at the kitchen table and peeled potatoes while
Mamm
made a batch of biscuits.

“Sadie's place has a lot more room
nau
,” Rachel said.

Mamm
sprinkled the table with flour. “I told her we would go over next week and help her make curtains. That will give you some sewing practice.”

Rachel forced a smile. “Oh. Sure.” The thought of sewing frolics had never interested her. And she didn't want to talk any more about this one. So she changed the subject. “Has Jordan mentioned his
mamm
to you? He doesn't seem to say anything about her.”

An odd expression crossed
Mamm's
face. It was so quick, Rachel didn't know how to read it.
Mamm
split the dough in two sections. “It must be painful to talk about.”

The peels fell steadily from the potato. “Was she shunned like people have said? Did she marry an
Englisch
man?”

“Rachel.”
Mamm
wagged the rolling pin and spoke firmly. “I won't participate in gossip.” She lowered the pin on one section of dough and rolled out a thick layer.

Rachel sensed that her mother wasn't telling her everything. Her mother knew more than she let on.

Jordan and her
daed
entered the kitchen talking nonstop about farming as though she and her
mamm
weren't even there. They washed up and sat at the table for supper. When all heads had lifted from prayer, Rachel reached for the bowl of potatoes directly in front of her. “Jolly looks like she might deliver soon.”

“Is that so?”
Daed
tapped the table, his eyes on Jordan. “Have you birthed a calf?”

Jordan swallowed, a spoon of potatoes hovering over his plate. “No.” He let the potatoes fall from the spoon and dug some more from the bowl before passing it on. As he shifted, his wavy hair covered his eyes.

Ach
, why did she bring up the pregnant cow? She hoped they wouldn't leave her out of that too. Rachel reached for the vegetables. “Tomorrow's service is at the Yoders'
haus
.”

Mamm
exchanged the creamed corn for the potatoes. “Will Naomi be hosting a singing?”

“I suppose.” Rachel didn't really want to go to that topic either. She'd only wanted to change the conversation from farming, so
Daed
didn't have a chance to exclude her from helping to birth the calves.

She tilted her head as though noticing Jordan's unkempt hair for the first time. “You could use a haircut before service.”

“I'll shape it up after supper,”
Mamm
said.

Jordan shifted in his seat. He opened his mouth to say something, then lifted a spoonful of creamed corn to it instead.

“She cuts
mei daed's
.”
Not always even on the sides
, she almost added.

Daed
chuckled. “Don't worry. She's
gut nau
about not clipping the ear.”

Jordan cut a glance from one to the other.

Rachel stifled a snicker and stabbed a piece of meatloaf. When they finished supper, she cleared the table and washed the dishes while
Mamm
cut Jordan's hair on the porch. When Rachel had finished her tasks, she stepped outside.

Mamm
lowered the scissors. “What do you think? His hair is much thicker than your father's. It doesn't lay the same.”

Rachel cocked her head. “It isn't even.” She pointed to the left side.
Mamm
trimmed it more, and Rachel reevaluated. “Too much.
Nau
the right side needs shortening.”

She held her expression even, although her stomach wanted to twist with suppressed laughter.

“
Ach
, his hair is too thick.”
Mamm
extended the shears toward her. “Maybe you can do better. I'll go fetch him some clean towels for the
grossdaadi haus
.”

“Have you learned not to clip ears yet?” Jordan asked, sounding a bit worried.

“I haven't clipped any yet.” She didn't tell him she hadn't cut anyone's hair, so she hadn't had the chance to clip an ear.

He closed his eyes when she lifted the scissors.

The softness of his bangs took her by surprise. A tingle spread from her fingertips through her arms and deep into her core. For a moment she froze.

He peeked through the locks, his green eyes taking on a puppy dog appearance. She drew a deep breath and readied the scissors. “I've only sheared sheep,” she said, snipping off a hunk of hair.

“Then I don't know if I want you to cut—”

Chunks of hair fluttered to the ground. He lifted his hand and, guiding it over what remained of his bangs, let out a growl under his breath.

Rachel cringed. “Maybe I took off too much.”

“So you say.” He reached for her wrist and gingerly removed the scissors from her hand. “I'll finish.”

Rachel swiped the hair clippings off one of his shoulders. His muscles tensed, causing a ripple of heat to surface over her face. She jerked her hand away. “I'll fetch the broom and sweep up these shavings and put them in the garden because they'll keep the deer away.” Her words ran together like a little girl's. Embarrassed again, she put her hand on the door to go inside just as
Mamm
appeared on the other side holding a handful of towels.

Mamm
looked at Jordan and her eyes widened. She handed Rachel the towels. “You better carry these for him. Jordan's covered in hair clippings.”

Jordan set the scissors on the stool and grabbed his hat from the railing. He raked at his head with his fingers as though searching for his missing hair, then slammed his hat over his ears, grumbling something about looking like a Dutch boy.

They walked silently to the little house. He opened the door and stepped aside to let her in. “There's an oil lamp on the table if you need it,” he said.

“
Jah
,” she said softly, “this was my grandparents' place until they passed away.” Although it wasn't her missing grandparents that gave her an aching heart. Stepping into the small house reminded her of James and all the hope that had been a part of the house when he was to take it over. He and Katie talked about adding on another bedroom when they started their family.

Rachel set the towels down on the table next to the lamp. The pack of matches lying there felt damp. After the third match failed to light, Jordan came up beside her, produced a pack from his pocket, and lit the wick.

“I'll find you a bar of soap.” She scooted into the kitchen, grabbed the soap next to the sink, and returned. “You'll want to wash up so you're—” For a split second all words fled from her. Jordan had unfastened the top eye hook of his shirt. “—not itching. I mean scratching all
nacht
.”

“Thanks for your concern.” His fingers moved down to unhook the next one.

Rachel lifted her hand to shield her eyes and hurried to the door.
“Nacht.”
She grasped the knob, but her sweaty hands couldn't get a firm grip. As she stopped to wipe her hands on her apron, the sound of his boot steps came up behind her. She caught a glimpse of the small patch of chest hair centered over his breastbone, and her heart rate increased. She rubbed her hands against the folds of her apron once more.

Leaning close, he reached in front of her for the door handle. “Having problems?” With an effortless twist, the door sprang open.

A welcoming gust of night air immediately cooled her hot face. Unable to form a simple thank-you, she rushed outside. He should've known how improper it was to bare any skin in front of an unmarried woman. Was he trying to mar her reputation?

Chapter Six