Brush of Angel's Wings Page 13

  Sadie balanced the plates as she headed for the door. “I’ll leave the decision making to Timothy. Daed doesn’t need the burden.”

  Although Rachel pretended to agree, she silently vowed to finish the morning chores and be in the field before daylight.

  After learning that her father needed surgery and that her mother would stay a few days at the hospital, Rachel spent a fitful night with her stomach tied in knots. Although mentally drained by morning, she determined to complete the chores as needed. She dressed, snatched an apple from the wicker basket on the table, and headed to the barn. She hurried through the morning chores and even had Clyde harnessed and hitched to the post all before the rooster’s sunrise call.

  She left Clyde long enough to get the chains. When she didn’t find them hanging in their usual spot, she walked the length of the barn with a lantern and searched every wall stud. Not finding them in the barn, she hoped they were still in the field. Perhaps whoever tended to Clyde yesterday hadn’t thought to bring the equipment in.

  “You and I have a long day,” she told Clyde as she led him out to the field.

  Leaving Clyde at the stump, she paced the steps in the direction her daed was pulled. The pink sky lit the area enough to find the chains. Wet with dew, they slipped out of her hand. Rachel growled in frustration. “This is crazy. The chains will slip off the wood too.”

  “You must try,” Tangus encouraged from a distance. He could see the animal sensed his presence, but this wasn’t the time for Tangus to stir him.

  He wanted Rachel to succeed. Let her empowerment be driven by pride. Tangus snickered; pride led them all to a quick fall.

  Rachel wrapped the chain around the stump, then attached it to Clyde’s trace. She gripped his lead and called out, “Pull.”

  When Clyde pulled, the chain slid off the stump.

  Rachel backed him up and reconnected the chain. The second attempt failed, and so did the third. She would need to come up with a different plan. From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Timothy trekking over the furrows toward her.

  “What are you doing? Do you want to get hurt too?” Timothy took the chain from her hand and dropped it on the ground.

  “I have to do something.” Her voice cracked.

  “This is dangerous.” He crossed his arms. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

  She lowered her head. Staring at the black soil was easier than meeting his brotherly eyes.

  “Rachel,” he said, lifting her chin. His deep brown eyes bored into hers. “You’re nett thinking wisely. This is nett a job for you.”

  “The field can’t be cleared by itself. I have to do something.”

  “The chain’s wet. The wood’s wet. Another accident is going to happen, and Sadie would have mei hide if anything happened to you.” He smiled. “I don’t want to mess with a pregnant woman. Especially the one living in my haus.”

  Rachel cracked a smile.

  Timothy bent down and grabbed the chain. He draped it over Clyde’s back, then took hold of his lead. “Let’s take him back to the barn.”

  Rachel, left with no option, followed along. She squinted at the rising sun. Not a cloud in the sky. Maybe the stump would dry by the afternoon. Her mind reeled with other ways to secure the chain. Perhaps if she wrapped a piece of old cheesecloth around it . . .

  They reached the edge of the field when he asked, “What happened to Jordan? Sadie said he left.”

  “Jah, he did.” She motioned to the barn. “I’ll go open the gate.” She sprinted ahead. Maybe Timothy wouldn’t ask anything more about Jordan.

  Timothy stopped Clyde at the fence and unharnessed him. After releasing the horse to graze in the pasture, Timothy picked up the equipment. “You need full-time help. More than what I can do since I’ve accepted the extra work to pay for the room addition.”

  “I can do it,” she said.

  Timothy shook his head. “Nett alone. I’ll ask Jordan to kumm back. I’m sure once he finds out about Micah—”

  “Let me,” she said. “I’ll ask him.”

  When forced to eat humble pie, she found it easier to feed herself.

  As Jordan tossed a bale of hay off the back end of the pickup truck, then reached for the next one, a buggy flashed in his peripheral vision. He recognized Ginger immediately. He finished hoisting up the forty-pound bale and tossed it off the truck with the others.

  He pulled a bandanna from his back pocket and wiped his forehead. Rachel climbed out of the buggy. She stood for a moment and scanned the area before she headed for the barn. He grabbed another bale, trying not to react to her presence.

  “Jordan?” She entered the barn and stopped beside the pickup.

  “Jah.” He continued working, only at a faster rate. The moment she’d spoken, his heart skittered. He didn’t dare look her in the eyes.

  “I don’t know how to ask you . . .”

  “Spit it out, Rachel. I’m a little busy.” He wrapped his gloved hands around the twine of another bale and lifted it waist high.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt—” Her voice quivered and she spun around.

  “Hey. Wait.” He dropped the hay and jumped off the side of the truck. “Why did you come?”

  She kept her back to him. “It’s nett important. I can—”

  Jordan reached for her arm. “Jah, it is.” The mulish woman wouldn’t have come if it wasn’t important. He moved in front of her. The despondence in her eyes convinced him something was terribly wrong.

  “Jordan?” Kayla entered the barn and stopped. Her focus shifted from his hand on Rachel’s arm to Rachel and then to him. “I wanted to know if we’re still going riding.”

  He dropped his hand. “I’m not finished unloading the hay, Kayla.”

  “I need to go,” Rachel said flatly and walked away.

  Jordan followed. “Rachel, please tell me why you’re here.” He trailed her back to the buggy and held out his arm to block her from climbing inside.

  She closed her eyes. After a long pause, she said, “I thought I could beg you to kumm back and help in the fields, but—”

  “You’re filled with pride.” His breath caught when he looked into her teary glare. This was deeper than a pride issue. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  Kayla came over and shaded her eyes with her hand. “Well? Are you coming or not?”

  “Give me a minute, please, Kayla. Let me finish my conversation in private.”

  Kayla threw Rachel a curious glance. “I’ll get Pepper ready,” she called as she walked inside the barn.

  “Okay,” Jordan said to Rachel, infusing as much kindness into his voice as he could. “Tell me why you came.”

  Rachel stared at her dress as she ran her hand over the creases. “Mei daed was injured in the field.”

  “How? How bad? Will he be okay?”

  She squeezed her eyes closed, covered her mouth, and shrugged.

  “Don’t cry.” He cocked his head to get a view of her face. “You can tell me later.” He steadied her trembling shoulders. “Of course I’ll help. I have one more truckload after this one to unload, but I won’t be long.”

  She dropped her hand but kept her head down. “Denki.”

  Jordan waited until she and Ginger were on the road before trekking back to the barn. If he hurried, he could be there before the evening milking.

  Jordan climbed onto the bed of the truck.

  “What’s going on in Amish land?” Kayla leaned against the side of the truck.

  “Micah Hartzler was injured,” he said, moving to hoist the bales of hay more quickly.

  “What does she expect you to do? She does know you have another job, doesn’t she?”

  Jordan continued dropping hay bales off the truck. They landed with a soft thump and a poof of hay dust. He’d still have to stack the bales before he left. He hoped by ignoring her, she would take the hint and leave so he could finish the job. But she continued to lean against the side of the truck, only now she r
ested her chin on her crossed arms and watched him work.

  She stood there until he tossed the last bale off and jumped from the pickup bed. Needing to stack the bales against the wall, he grasped the binder twine at the same time Kayla gripped his arm. He released the bale and moved his arm away from her. “I’m in a hurry.”

  Her bottom lip puckered. “You don’t have to go, do you?” She moved in front of him, placed her hands on his shoulders, then stepped closer. “I was hoping you still wanted to go riding with me.” She tilted her head, parting her lips inches from his face.

  He pulled back. “Not today. The Hartzlers need help.”

  “And they’ll get it.” She rolled her eyes. “That’s what the Amish do. They congregate when there’s a crisis.”

  He skirted around her to the mound of hay. “Let me work so I can finish this before I leave.”

  “I thought you weren’t Amish!”

  He looked over his shoulder and caught sight of her scowl. “Maybe I have more Amish in me than I thought.”

  “My father wants to offer you a permanent position.” She shifted her weight to her other hip. “Are you staying or not?”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jordan entered the Hartzlers’ barn and followed the lamplight to the new calf pen. He sneezed as he came up to the railing of a stall where a large cow shifted about.

  Rachel spun around, her hand clutching her chest. “I didn’t hear you kumm in.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I stopped at the house, but no one answered the door.”

  Her shoulders relaxed. “Daed’s still in the hospital.” She ran her hand over the cow’s back and spoke softly. “Mamm won’t be home until after his surgery.”

  “Surgery?” He figured her father’s injury was serious enough considering how desperate she was to hunt him down, but something as serious as surgery had never crossed his mind. Jordan sneezed again and looked around the immediate area. Where is that cat? He scanned the rafters with no success. Jordan eased into the stall. “Why are you in here? Is something wrong with the cow?”

  “Wendy’s pregnant.”

  “Yes, I know. So don’t you think you should leave her alone?” The cow bellowed and Jordan backed into the gate. His eyes were trained on the cow as she moved to the other side of the pen. “They can be unpredictable.”

  Wendy craned her neck in his direction and mooed. He opened the gate. “Let’s go. The cow’s restless.”

  Rachel shot Jordan an aggravated look. “If she’s annoyed, it’s because you keep talking.”

  He couldn’t leave Rachel in there. The gate hinges creaked as he reentered. Wendy kicked at him but missed. He lunged toward Rachel and grabbed her arm. “Come with me.”

  Once he had her outside the stall, Jordan cornered her against the wall. “Don’t you know to leave a pregnant cow alone?”

  She hunched over to duck under his arm, but he shifted and stopped her.

  He tilted his head to look into her eyes. “Are we going to argue or get along?”

  She just looked at him.

  “You asked me to come back. Tell me if that’s what you still want.” He waited patiently, staring into her stubborn eyes. When she didn’t reply, he dropped his arms and went to the door. “I’ll ask Timothy and Onkel Isaac to round up some men.”

  “Nay, wait.” She took a step forward and grasped his arm.

  Her touch caused a spasm to travel over his muscles to the tips of his fingers. His chest swelled. For sure if she moved any closer, she would discover the effect she had over him.

  “I want you to stay. But . . .”

  Jordan’s smiled faded. “But . . . ?”

  She moved back to the birthing pen. “Wendy had problems with her last pregnancy. The calf was stillborn.” She looked him hard in the eye. “I want to help. This was mei bruder’s cow.”

  “And you know what to do?” He certainly didn’t. Another reason to ask his onkel for help.

  “Maybe. I felt the calf kick so I know it’s alive right now.”

  Jordan grinned. “I almost felt the mom’s kick. She missed me by a few inches.”

  Rachel held back a laugh.

  “You think that’s funny?” he teased.

  Her expression sobered. “I would’ve felt awful.”

  The lamplight’s glow softened her skin tone and rendered him speechless. He noticed the light flickering in her eyes. Why hadn’t one of the unmarried men spoken for her?

  “Denki for kumming back.” She drew a deep breath. “I’m sorry I treated you so badly that you left.”

  He swallowed. He wasn’t sure he could keep a safe distance from her with this sudden transformation. It’d be easier if he stirred up some friction between them. But with Micah injured, he couldn’t possibly provoke her intentionally. He tended to do enough of that unintentionally.

  “I had other reasons for leaving.”

  “Ach,” she whispered. “Kayla?”

  He didn’t want to answer. He didn’t want to talk about Kayla. Especially with Rachel. He yanked the barn door open, then placed his hand on her back between her shoulder blades to direct her outside. “What’s for supper?”

  “I made chili and cornbread earlier. It just needs warming.”

  “Oh, so you can cook more than just eggs?”

  She elbowed him. “Of course I can.”

  “Wait.” He stopped abruptly. “There’s something I want to show you before it gets dark.” He beckoned her to follow.

  Curiosity lit her face. “What is it?”

  He directed her to the corner of the grossdaadi haus. “Look.” He pointed to the nest on the windowsill. “They hatched. I saw them when I dropped off my stuff.”

  Cautiously she moved forward, climbed the steps of the stoop, and leaned toward the window. Turning back to him, she smiled. “Three. They all made it.”

  He came up beside her. “We shouldn’t bother them. The mama bird must be hunting worms close by.”

  “They don’t look like robins. Instead of being red, they’re spotted.”

  “I think the red coloring comes later.”

  He stepped off the porch and Rachel followed, still sporting a wide smile. A shudder spread along his nerves.

  “I, um . . . I should . . .” He pointed to the pile of firewood when he couldn’t stop stammering. “Firewood.”

  Her smile widened. “Jah?”

  He grinned. How did he buckle so easily under a simple smile? The setting sun didn’t help. The golden glow highlighted her freckles.

  “I’ll bring some wood and meet you in the house.” He hoped to regain some of the strength that her smile had drained from him.

  “Okay.” She walked away, and glancing back, she said, “Supper will be ready in a few minutes.”

  Something had sparked between him and Rachel. He faced the woodpile trying to focus on something else. Kindling. There wasn’t much cut that was small enough to fit inside the cookstove. Taking the ax in his clammy hands, he barely held a grip on it as he began to split the wood, chopping more than was needed. A good bit more.

  After loading his arms, he headed to the house. As though an unseen presence met him as he stepped through the door, his soul filled with warmth.

  “Jordan, you’re experiencing a portion of God’s peace. There is rest in His arms,” Nathaniel reassured in a whisper.

  A sulfuric vapor crept inside from under the threshold, and Tangus materialized from the floor planks. His laugh expelled a putrid vitriolic stench. Eight sets of rhombic-cut eyes roamed the room, recording any infractions. Later, in the midnight hour, he would broadcast the accusing images over Jordan’s subconscious. Creating a mind-set to cultivate self-condemnation was a powerful tool. If Jordan crumbled and Rachel continued to move toward her selfishness and pride, he would own both their souls.

  Tangus attached himself like a bush brier onto Jordan. He cupped his hands around Jordan’s ear. “You don’t want to stay here. There are so many new things to ex
perience, places to go. You’ve gone without all your life; follow me and I’ll equip you to soar. Go back to Kayla—her companionship will keep you warm and happy.”

  Nathaniel hummed, blocking the piercing frequency and interrupting the fallen angel’s hypnotic flow, but he couldn’t force Tangus to retreat. Only his charge could make such demands, and only in the name of Jesus were strongholds loosened and souls set free.

  Jordan set the larger pieces of wood in the firebox next to the stove in the sitting room. Noticing the filled ash tin, he walked it outside and emptied it in the garden. His mother always insisted the ashes helped lessen the acidity of her tomatoes.

  He glanced at the staked-out section of Rachel’s garden and recalled the long hours he spent with his mother. Most of their meals came out of the garden they planted. Some nights supper wasn’t much more than fried tomatoes or cucumber sandwiches.

  His mother used to say that people paid a lot of money in fancy restaurants for cucumber sandwiches and fried green tomatoes. But those fancy restaurants didn’t pay his mother much for the produce she sold them. At one time, his mouth watered for a juicy hamburger. Now he would give anything for another one of his mom’s sandwiches.

  Jordan glanced over the rows in Rachel’s garden. It looked as though she’d planted plenty of cucumbers if the seed packages on the stakes were any indication.

  He tapped the bottom of the ash pan before bringing it back into the house. Since most nights in May were historically cool, he made a fire to keep out the chill. Then he gathered the smaller pieces of wood and brought them into the kitchen.

  Rachel stood in front of the stove, trying to stir and dodge splattering chili at the same time.

  “How’s it coming?”

  “Oh. It’s fine.”

  She obviously didn’t know what the term simmer meant. Sauce had splattered on the counter, even the wall. He tossed the kindling into the metal tin box next to the stove and swept the loose oak bark off his shirtsleeves.