Brush of Angel's Wings Read online

  After a brief hesitation, Micah cleared his throat. “And what if mei daughter wants to follow after you?”

  Helplessness shrouded Rachel as she dabbed a cool cloth over Sadie’s forehead. In the short period since Timothy had gone for help, her sister’s face had become redder and her eyes bloodshot.

  Sadie spoke between gasps. “I can’t—breathe.”

  “I think you’ll breathe easier if I get another pillow.” Rachel hurried across the hall into the other bedroom, grabbed the two feather-stuffed pillows, and fluffed them before positioning them behind her sister’s back. “Better?”

  “Something’s wrong, Rachel. Something’s very wrong.”

  “The boppli wants to make an early arrival, is all.”

  Although her panting seemed to ease with the added pillows, her nostrils still flared with every breath. Rachel propped the window open a few inches. Then, gazing at Sadie sweating profusely, she decided the breeze might cause a chill. She closed the window as a buggy pulled into the driveway.

  Rachel met Anna at the front door.

  “How is Sadie?” Anna asked.

  “She’s beet-red and having a hard time breathing. Where’s Timothy?”

  “He went after the midwife. I sent word over to your mamm. She should be here shortly too.”

  “Denki.” Rachel led Anna into the bedroom.

  Anna sat on the edge of the bed and placed her hand over Sadie’s forehead. “Sadie?” She looked up at Rachel. “How long has she been like this?”

  “Hot?”

  “Nett responding.” She tapped Sadie’s shoulder. “Sadie?”

  A car drove past the window and Rachel shot out of the room. Before the midwife pulled her bag out of the car, Rachel had the door open, ready to usher her inside. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “I got back in town last night.” The woman rushed up the porch steps. “Mr. King said his wife is in labor.”

  “Jah, she’s boiling with fever too.” Rachel waited for her to enter, then closed the door.

  Already familiar with the house, the midwife headed to the bedroom.

  Rachel stepped inside the room as Anna King moved aside for the midwife. “Let’s give her some privacy,” she whispered to Rachel.

  Rachel swiped her sewing off the dresser. Once they were in the sitting room, she asked, “Do you think the midwife can stop the labor? Sadie’s nett at term.”

  “There’ve been plenty of premature bopplis who do just fine. God willing, this one will too.”

  “Jah.” God willing.

  Rachel finished attaching the last hooks and eyes to the shirt. Then, not having anything else to keep her occupied, she paced the length of the room. “I wish there was something for me to do.” She glanced at Anna. “Would you like kaffi? I could heat the kettle.”

  “Nay, I’m fine.” Anna folded her hands and bowed her head.

  Rachel prayed as she paced. God, I try nett to ask for much, but mei sister really wants this boppli. She’ll be a gut mamm. She and Timothy will train up the child as your Word instructs . . .

  Another buggy entered the driveway. It passed by the sitting room window so quickly that Rachel didn’t know if it was Timothy or Mamm who had arrived. Seconds later, the door flew open.

  Timothy looked back and forth between the two of them. “How’s Sadie? Did she have the boppli?”

  Anna rose from the chair. “The boppli hasn’t kumm, and the midwife is with her nau.”

  “I want to see her.” Timothy’s eyes watered. “She needs to know that I’m here.”

  Rachel’s throat tightened. “I’ll tend to Ginger.” She sucked in a deep breath and shot out the door. Her heart ached seeing Timothy fight back his tears.

  Ginger nickered as Rachel approached, then dropped her head and blew at the ground. Her neck foamed with sweat.

  “Gut girl, Ginger.” Rachel untied the reins from the porch banister and walked Ginger to the barn so she could remove the harness. She unfastened the top strap and moved to the other side of the horse. The gravel crunched and she looked up.

  Jordan sneezed. He sneezed again as he climbed out of his buggy.

  “Bless you.” Just then Smokey jetted out from the wicker basket inside Jordan’s buggy. “Smokey!” She swooped him up in her arms, glad to have his comfort. She buried her face in his soft fur and he began to purr.

  “I tried to catch you on the road.” Jordan went over to Ginger. “You were driving crazy.” Concern etched his face. “Do you want to kill yourself?”

  Rachel set Smokey on the ground. He wove contentedly around her ankles. “It wasn’t me. Timothy was fetching the midwife.”

  Jordan’s hardened expression melted as he looked at the car parked in the drive. “What’s going on?”

  She attempted to keep her words calm, though inside she was terrified. “Sadie’s probably going to have the boppli early.” She wanted to be inside, but with Anna and Timothy there with the midwife, she would just be in the way.

  “Will they be okay?”

  Rachel looked at him, wishing she knew the answer. “Only God knows. And he is gut.”

  Jordan began to say something, but Rachel stopped him. “Wait here.”

  “Where are you going?” Jordan called.

  “I won’t be more than a minute,” she replied, sprinting to the house. She snatched the shirt from the chair and darted back outside.

  “I made this for you.” She handed him the shirt.

  Jordan unfolded the fabric. “Wow, you made this, really?”

  “I worked on it all nacht.” His pleased reaction warmed Rachel’s heart.

  “And here I thought you couldn’t sew.” He looked at it again. “This is nice. Thanks.”

  She eyed his broad shoulders and chest. “Your shirts are thin.” Tight too.

  He grinned. “Jah, so you say.”

  She mentally compared his shoulder size to Timothy’s.

  Jordan’s shoulders were broader and his chest and neck thicker.

  Jordan grinned as he folded the shirt. “I’ll treasure it. Especially knowing how much you don’t like to sew.” Rachel followed him as he placed it on the bench of his buggy.

  He pulled the equipment off Ginger and carried it to the tack area of the barn.

  Rachel followed, feeling jittery. She wanted desperately to be inside with Sadie. It was difficult to plant herself here, in this moment, no matter how much she cared for Jordan. “Why are you here? Why is Smokey with you?” In light of what was happening inside the house, she felt her questions were silly and mundane.

  He hung the harness on the nail next to the others. “I told you I would bring the cat back.”

  “Jah, when the birds had left the nest.”

  “I was on my way to take Smokey to your house, but then I saw Ginger and I chased you, or who—”

  “Why were you taking him back home? The birds aren’t ready to fly and you’re allergic to cats.” She tilted her head, trying to figure him out. “I don’t want you to be sneezing.” She stopped. Her words froze as the possible reason for Smokey’s early homecoming became apparent. “Jordan—” She bit her bottom lip.

  Jordan moved closer. “I need to talk to you.” He reached for her hand, his eyes boring into hers. “I didn’t want you hearing it from anyone else.”

  “Hearing what?” A lump constricted her throat.

  He squeezed her hand. “I’m leaving. I’m going with my father.”

  Rachel blinked back tears. “I thought you’d started to like it here. I thought . . .”

  “Please don’t cry. I’m sorry.” He dropped her hand and rubbed the back of his neck. “I didn’t plan it this way.”

  She reached for his arm, her eyes searching his. “Then don’t go.”

  His muscles tightened under her grip. “I told you I wanted to learn to drive a truck, remember?”

  “I know,” she said softly—but she hadn’t really believed he would go.

  “I won’t forget you.” His vo
ice quivered and he paused. “You mean a lot to me.”

  “Then don’t go. Stay. You don’t have to—”

  “I already said yes.” He stepped closer. “This isn’t easy for me either.”

  She stared, unable to speak.

  “You’ll find someone and forget about me.” He lifted her chin to look into her eyes. “You will.”

  Did he really believe that?

  “You and I both know I won’t.” She blinked to clear her vision, but more tears burned her eyes.

  “Then I’ll come back for you.”

  “You’ll forget about me.” She tried to move her chin from his hand, but he wouldn’t release his grip.

  Jordan looked deeper into her eyes. “I won’t ever forget you.”

  “I won’t forget you either.” She also wouldn’t forget the emptiness in her heart.

  “I have to go,” he whispered, releasing her chin.

  He opened the door and the flash of sunlight blinded her. As her eyes adjusted, she could see Kayla’s truck pulling into the drive.

  Mamm climbed out of the cab, a look of alarm on her face. She thanked Kayla for the ride before she hurried up the porch steps.

  Kayla’s window lowered. She stuck her head out the window. “Jordan, you weren’t back yet and Miriam needed a ride. I thought I might find you here.”

  Jordan grabbed the shirt out of his buggy and turned to Rachel. “She’s giving me a ride into town.”

  “Of course.” Her voice felt distant, as if coming from someone else. Someone stronger than she was.

  “Micah said he would make sure my onkel gets Blaze and the buggy back.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the cash Micah had given him. “Give this to your daed.”

  “Why?”

  “Just promise me.” He climbed into the passenger side of Kayla’s truck. “Take care.” He rolled down the window and stuck his hand out until the truck was no longer in sight.

  Rachel shuffled into the barn. She cried while she tended to Ginger and lingered in the barn until her emotions were controlled. On her way back to the house, the door flew open and Timothy bolted outside. He grabbed both her arms, panic not only in his eyes but in every part of him. “Rachel, hitch the buggy for me.” He sprinted back to the house.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Rachel had the buggy rehitched by the time an ambulance pulled into the yard. Ginger spooked at the scream of the siren, prancing in place, her head high, eyes wide.

  “Whoa, girl.” She pulled the reins and set the brake. With the horse nervous, she couldn’t leave Ginger alone. She fixed her eyes on the door and waited for a signal from Timothy . . . from anyone. Rachel squeezed her eyes closed and whispered another prayer. “God, please watch over the boppli.”

  The screen door creaked and Rachel opened her eyes. Two paramedics wheeled Sadie out on a stretcher. The midwife kept stride, rattling off numbers that meant nothing to Rachel, except when the midwife reported Sadie’s extremely high blood pressure.

  The paramedics loaded her sister into the ambulance. Timothy placed one boot on the bumper, ready to board, but a crew member held up his hand and said something Rachel couldn’t hear. Timothy backed away from the closing door.

  He ran to the buggy. “Slide over.” He climbed inside and snapped the reins. “God willing, the Thons are home and one of them can drive me into town.”

  Rachel opened her mouth to ask why an ambulance was needed but then shut it. Timothy was lost in a pensive stare, praying with his lips moving and eyes open. Something she should be doing. Rachel bowed silently and quoted the Twenty-Third Psalm.

  “Denki, God, they’re home,” she said as Timothy pulled into their Englisch friends’ driveway. He stopped Ginger, tossed the reins to Rachel, then jumped out. After a quick rap on the door, it opened.

  “Mei fraa—my wife—was taken to the hospital. Can you please drive me there?”

  Simon reached into his pocket. Keys jingled in his hand as he started to his truck. “Let’s go.”

  Rachel called out, “I’ll bring your mamm and mine.” She doubted Timothy heard her comment as he slammed his door closed.

  Mary appeared in the doorway. “Is there an emergency?”

  “Jah!” she called. “Sadie was taken to the hospital by an ambulance.”

  “I’ll get my keys and drive your family into town.”

  Directed to the second-floor waiting room by a hospital staff member, Rachel, Mamm, and Anna King found Timothy alone in the room.

  He lifted his head when they entered. “Sadie’s in the operating room.”

  Mamm covered her mouth, and Anna placed her arm around Mamm’s shoulder. The two mothers leaned toward each other, pushed together by mutual fear.

  Nathaniel unfurled his wings and moved beside Rachel as she eased closer to Timothy.

  “What did the dokta say?” Rachel practically held her breath.

  “I didn’t understand the fancy words. Something about her blood pressure and toxemia. I didn’t even get to see her before they rushed her to surgery.” He stopped, attempting to get his emotions under control. “They had me filling out paperwork.”

  The wait drained all of them. If they spoke at all, it seemed to be more of a mumbling to themselves rather than something important to be heard. Timothy paced, his hand to his bearded chin, eyes cast to the ground, lips still moving in near-silent prayer.

  Finally, a white-coated man appeared in the waiting room doorway. “Mr. King?” The doctor stepped into the room and approached Timothy. Everyone froze.

  “This is what I’ve been waiting for.” Tangus sprang off the ceiling and landed next to the doctor.

  “Jah?”

  “You have a daughter,” he pronounced with a grim smile. “Five pounds eleven ounces.”

  Tangus spun gleefully. He edged closer to Rachel, but Nathaniel’s protective covering prevented him from sidling up next to her ear.

  Mamm and Anna brightened, chattering about the baby being a girl, her weight reasonable for a preemie. “Is she okay?”

  Mamm asked. “The boppli. Is she okay?”

  “Timothy, didn’t you hear? It’s a girl.” Rachel touched his arm, but he stiffened. She followed his pinned stare. Her breath caught in her chest. The doctor held her sister’s prayer kapp. Why would he have—

  Timothy cleared his throat. “And Sadie?”

  The doctor paused, pain and sadness in his eyes. “I’m sorry. She didn’t make it.”

  Mamm gasped, her hand flying to her chest.

  Timothy backed up until he nearly stumbled over a steel chair. He sat and dropped his head into his hands, his head wagging in disbelief.

  Rachel’s surroundings blurred. In a slow-motion delay, she moved from Mamm, smothered in Anna King’s embrace, over to Timothy—whitewashed and speechless—over to the doctor, still dangling Sadie’s prayer kapp as if he’d pulled it out of a lost-and-found box.

  “What happened?” Rachel’s voice cracked. “She kumm to have a boppli. A baby.”

  “You only prayed for the baby, remember? Not your sister. Now she’s dead. If you had prayed for her, things might have been different!” Tangus strutted toward Rachel. “Now what do you think of your God?” His chest inflated and he flexed his wings with pride and self-empowerment.

  “My job will be easier now,” he said to Nathaniel.

  Nathaniel steadied his hand on his sword and waited for word sent from God.

  The doctor stepped into the center of the room. “Mrs. King suffered from a syndrome called HELLP. The toxemia caused her liver to rupture; we couldn’t save her.” He paused, allowing Timothy to soak in the news.

  “Suffered. Did you hear him?” Tangus closed his eyes to block the glare radiating from Nathaniel’s iridescent form and weaseled through an opening to get closer to Rachel. “Sadie suffered,” Tangus repeated.

  Rachel gasped.

  The doctor extended Sadie’s kapp to Timothy.

  “Would you like to speak with a membe
r of the clergy staff?”

  “Nay.”

  Rachel opened her eyes as she heard Timothy’s choked reply. He stared at the prayer kapp, his eyes budding with tears.

  “If you have any questions, the nurse can page me.” He waited a moment. “I’m sorry about your loss, Mr. King. I did everything I could to save her.”

  Rachel swallowed hard. “What about the baby?”

  “The pediatrician is still examining her. The neonatal intensive care unit is located on the third floor.”

  Rachel’s numbed senses couldn’t distinguish between the hum of the Coke machine and Mamm’s muffled cry. She already struggled to live without James. How could she possibly live without her sister too? Rachel’s knees weakened. The room spun. Suddenly her legs went limp, and she wobbled before a firm hand caught her and supported her weight. For a brief moment she saw someone whom she conceived in her mind as Jordan.

  “Rachel, you better sit down.” Timothy guided her into the cold steel chair.

  Mamm slid into the seat beside Rachel. They clung together for what seemed like hours, sobbing.

  Jordan paused at the restaurant’s entrance. Since the eatery and the truck stop shared the same building, truck drivers made up the majority of patrons. Among the array of different ball caps, dingy T-shirts, and men with the common trademark of an oil rag tied to their belt loop, finding his father might prove difficult.

  He scanned the crowd. One person made eye contact with him, but Jordan ruled him out. The man’s polo shirt didn’t fit what he imagined a trucker would wear.

  “Take a seat wherever you can find one,” said the waitress pouring coffee at one of the nearby booths.

  “Thank you,” Jordan replied.

  The nicely dressed man slid out of his seat and approached.

  “Jordan?” He extended his hand.

  Jordan stared. They were the same height; the man’s eyes were the same shade of green as his. His hair, although strewn with gray, was wavy like he remembered.