Brush of Angel's Wings Page 21

  “Having a garden, you’ve seen the fruit of one’s labor.” Micah grinned. “You have a farmer’s heart.”

  He might have been able to soften to the Plain lifestyle, but he wasn’t a farmer. He panicked when the cow needed assistance and had only recently filled the milk bucket without his hands stiffening.

  “You did a fine job delivering the calf.”

  “Rachel did that. I didn’t even know the cow was in labor.”

  Micah crossed his arms, looking amused.

  “I’m serious. Rachel told me what to do. You taught her well. She saved the calf and maybe the cow too.”

  “Perhaps.” Micah crouched to the ground, scooped up a handful of dirt, and inspected it. “I only wish she would give as much attention to cooking and sewing as she does to being a cow’s midwife.”

  Afraid an affirming comment would somehow betray Rachel, Jordan clamped his mouth tight. Her cooking wasn’t horrible. And despite what the unmarried men believed, a little bit of competition with a woman wasn’t sinful, unless the men were bitter when they lost. It only bruised their masculinity, and they wouldn’t admit it.

  Jordan cleared his throat. “I think I’ll go back to the little house.”

  Micah stood, the rich earth falling through his fingers. “Jah, it’s getting dark.”

  Nathaniel decamped from the field and plodded along with his charge. He entered the house behind Jordan and brought a swift breeze inside with him. Just as Nathaniel had hoped, Jordan noticed the fluttering Bible pages and picked up the Word of Truth.

  “Ask, Jordan, and it will be given to you.” Nathaniel’s voice penetrated the earthly realm. Yet his charge denied the calling. Jordan stood motionless, void of conviction.

  “Seek and you will find.” Nathaniel’s exhale carried another prompting. “Ask.”

  Rachel’s hands trembled as she attempted to thread the needle. She pulled the blue thread taut while gazing at Sadie’s closed bedroom door. Thankful to have a project to bide the time, she tied a knot on the long end of the thread. She’d finished sewing the first shirtsleeve while waiting for an update on her sister’s condition, but neither Timothy nor his mother, Anna, had come out to tell her anything.

  She joined the two sections of blue fabric and began her stitching. The way this evening was going, she might have the new shirt for Jordan completed before she heard anything.

  The bedroom door opened. Rachel shoved her sewing to the side and stood.

  “Her fever broke,” Timothy reported. “Mamm made her an herbal tea that she was able to hold down.”

  Rachel followed him into the kitchen. “And the boppli? Did Sadie say she feels kicking?”

  Timothy smiled. “Jah. I did too.” He took a glass from the cabinet and turned on the tap. “Would you look for a letter in the desk? The midwife sent information of who to call if we needed someone.” He sipped some water and tossed the rest in the sink. He placed his hands on either side of the sink and stared despondently out the window into the darkness.

  Rachel went to the sitting room, opened the roll-top desk, and found a stack of mail. She recognized Fanny’s and Iva’s handwriting on most of the letters before coming across the one the midwife had sent.

  Rachel tiptoed back down the hallway and peeked inside the bedroom. Anna King sat next to the bed, her head bowed and eyes closed. Rachel tiptoed closer. The floorboards creaked and Anna opened her eyes.

  Rachel neared the bed. “Is she sleeping?” she whispered.

  “Jah.” Anna’s warm smile couldn’t mask her fatigue. Rachel spotted the dark circles under her eyes immediately and wished Timothy would have gone after her mamm instead. Sadie had mentioned last week that her mother-in-law had been ill.

  “Can I get you anything, perhaps a cup of kaffi?”

  “Nay, denki.”

  Rachel watched her sister and smiled. Sadie’s moist, rosy complexion looked flattering compared to her normally pasty skin tone. She sat on the edge of the bed and couldn’t resist the urge to place her hand on Sadie’s belly. She frowned and changed hand positions when she didn’t feel movement. Then the unborn life made its presence known. Rachel caught her breath at the wonderment. Denki, God. The baby kicked again, harder this time.

  Anna leaned forward in her chair and touched Sadie’s forehead. Unable to read the woman’s expression, Rachel frowned. “Is she hot?”

  “Nay. I think she’s doing fine.” She let out a long sigh and leaned back in the chair.

  “I’ll be back in a minute. I have a letter to give to Timothy. I think he’s outside on the porch.” Rachel scooted out the door and down the hall.

  Timothy entered the house. “I had to get some air.” He motioned to the bedroom. “Any changes?”

  “Nay, but your mamm doesn’t look well. Her eyes are sunken and she’s tired.” She handed Timothy the letter.

  “Mamm’s still recovering from the flu.” He unfolded the letter and read silently. A smile crept over his face. “She should be back in town tomorrow.”

  “That’s gut.” Rachel breathed easier.

  He folded the letter and jammed it into his pocket. “I’m going to check on Sadie and mei mamm.”

  Rachel followed him. As Timothy crept closer to the bedside, Rachel went around to the other side.

  “Let me take you home,” Timothy said to his mother.

  “I can stay and look after Sadie.”

  “Nay, Mamm, you’re exhausted.”

  “I gave mei word to Sadie that I would help with the delivery if the midwife wasn’t back in town.” She looked at her son and her expression softened. “All right. Just be sure to fetch me if anything changes.”

  “The midwife will be back tomorrow. I think we’ll be fine until then.” He moved to the bedroom door. “I’ll harness the buggy for you, Mamm.”

  “Denki, sohn.” Once Timothy left the room, Anna turned to Rachel. “If she wakes up and can sip another cup of tea, I think it will help her upset stomach. She was complaining earlier about pains on her right side, but they eased up with the tea.”

  “Okay.” Rachel followed Anna to the sitting room, where she grabbed her sewing. When Timothy poked his head inside and said the buggy was ready, Anna left and Rachel went to sit beside her sister.

  Sadie hadn’t stirred while Timothy was driving his mother home. He stepped inside the bedroom. “How is she?”

  Rachel set her sewing aside. “She’s still sleeping.”

  Timothy crept closer and sat on the bed. He gently touched Sadie’s cheek. “You had me worried, lieb,” he said under his breath to his fraa.

  Timothy’s compassion for Sadie reminded Rachel of the way Daed looked at Mamm when he thought no one was paying attention. Rachel stood, wanting to give them some privacy. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  Timothy mumbled something inaudible as Rachel left the room. After loitering in the kitchen for several minutes, she meandered back to the bedroom.

  Timothy’s hand was on Sadie’s belly, a smile filling his face. “He’s as sturdy as a horse,” Timothy said, looking up at Rachel.

  “You’re talking about a boppli, nett a horse.” She gave him a playful smile. “And maybe it’s a maydel.”

  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

  Jordan 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 weath
er, 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?”