Brush of Angel's Wings Read online

  Fanny and Iva dropped back with Rachel. Mamm, Daed, and Timothy remained at the casket. The three sisters leaned on each other for support and walked outside, weeping. A few minutes later, Mamm and Daed came out of the house and joined them in the yard.

  When Timothy finally came out, he stopped next to Rachel. “Will you take Ella?”

  Rachel held out her arms. She welcomed the distraction and nuzzled the boppli’s neck.

  “Denki,” he said hoarsely. He signaled a few of the men who had been waiting outside, and together they headed back inside the house.

  Rachel cradled the sleeping child and rocked her gently in her arms. She wanted to block out the vision of Timothy overseeing the sealing of the coffin.

  Iva leaned closer to Rachel and pulled back the small quilt to peek at Ella. “She’s a beautiful boppli, ain’t so?”

  Rachel nodded, unable to push the lump from her throat to speak. She glanced at the sun directly overhead, then covered Ella’s face.

  The door opened, and Timothy and the other men carried the casket over to the waiting wagon and eased it onto the bed.

  Nathaniel stood at the graveside. His duty was to oversee his charge by fending off the enemy and showering Rachel with peace.

  He rustled the oak branches, providing a gentle breeze. With his outstretched wings, he filtered the light that fell on Rachel as she held his newest charge. “Your sister is at rest.”

  He lifted his face to the sky and soaked in God’s love. Empowered by his Master, Nathaniel spoke into the breeze. “To everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under heaven. A time to be born and a time to die . . .”

  Rachel pressed the infant tighter against her chest and closed her eyes. Have mercy on this child. Have mercy, I beg of you, God, have mercy on Timothy. My parents too. They’ve lost two children, Lord, and they are heavy with sorrow. Give them strength in your Son’s name, I ask. Aemen.

  White Sweet Everlasting flowers covered the field and their balsam scent penetrated the breeze. How ironic.

  Bishop Lapp made the final words brief. He bowed his head, a signal for the men to use their ropes to lower the plain casket into the ground.

  The first shovelful of dirt landed on the coffin with a thud. Rachel shuddered.

  “Are you okay?” Fanny whispered.

  “I guess,” Rachel said, but nothing was okay. She focused her attention on the baby sleeping in her arms. The innocent newborn held no worries about tomorrow. Precisely the way God intended his children to rest in him.

  Birds chirped and the leaves overhead rustled, but that didn’t distract Rachel from hearing every shovelful of dirt thump. Thankfully, there were plenty of men shoveling and they filled the grave within minutes. Outside of a few faint murmurs, there was silence.

  Bishop Lapp lifted his hand for the men to stop. They eased the shovels onto the back of the wagon, but they still clanged. Another shudder crept up Rachel’s spine.

  As the others moved toward the buggies, Rachel kept watch on Timothy standing alone at the grave. He removed his hat. His head down, she could see his lips moving, but his eyes were open. Praying or saying good-bye to Sadie, she couldn’t tell.

  Her family walked together in heavy silence. Rachel fell back a few steps so she could take a moment at her brother’s grave. Katie Bender stood there, alone, head bowed and shoulders shaking. Rachel’s vision blurred. She kept walking.

  Daed climbed into the buggy. “Timothy said nett to wait for him. He doesn’t think he can eat anything.” Daed released the brake and clicked his tongue.

  As they drove away, Timothy returned to the grave, his hands clasped together in front of him, his head bowed.

  “He will work out his sorrow,” Daed said, as though reading everyone’s thoughts. “His faith will see him through this season.”

  Rachel wondered if Daed’s talk was more for Mamm’s benefit. After he made the statement, he reached for Mamm’s hand and held it, something Rachel had never seen him do in public.

  Back at Timothy’s house, the long table had been placed back in the kitchen and was loaded with food the women had prepared. Under any other circumstances the community would welcome a feast.

  Rachel doubted if she would partake. Her stomach rumbled, but the thought of eating wasn’t appealing.

  Naomi came up beside Rachel and wrapped her arm around Rachel’s waist. “I’m sorry about Sadie.”

  “Denki.”

  “The boppli is beautiful.” Naomi’s voice cracked.

  Rachel tucked the blanket around her niece. “She looks like Sadie, jah?”

  Naomi wiped her tear-streaked face. “Jah, she does.”

  Iva came over to them. “I’ll hold Ella while you get yourself some food.”

  Rachel held her bundle tightly, reluctant to give her to anyone. “I’m nett hungry.” She looked around the room. “Is Timothy here? You could make a plate for him.”

  “Gut idea,” Iva said and walked away searching the crowd.

  Naomi took her elbow and walked her to a place where they could speak more privately. “I heard Jordan left. How are you doing?”

  “I’ll be fine.” Rachel kept her eyes trained on Ella and rocked her arms slowly.

  “You don’t sound convincing to me.”

  Tears pooled, blurring Rachel’s vision. “Naomi . . .” Her voice squeaked. “I’m going to sneak off and change her diaper.” She faked a smile. “I’ll be okay. I know for certain, I will.” She glanced at the door. “Your parents are saying their good-byes. I’ll see you on Sunday. We can talk then.”

  “That would be good.”

  Rachel slipped down the hall to the bedroom to change the baby’s diaper. She hoped that if she took her time, the guests would leave and the house would be empty.

  She lowered the baby into the cradle long enough to light the lamp wick. As she struck a match, a shadow moved and she gasped.

  “It’s me.” Timothy stood from the chair in the far corner and moved closer to the light.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were in here. Ella needs a new diaper. I won’t be long. Unless you want me to take her—”

  “It’s okay,” he whispered.

  Ella fussed but stopped the moment Rachel scooped her into her arms. “She’s probably hungry. It’s been almost two hours since her last bottle.”

  “I’ll have one warmed.” Timothy headed out, and by the time Rachel had finished changing the diaper, he had a warm bottle ready.

  Rachel held his daughter out to him. “Do you want to feed her?”

  He cleared his throat. “I’ll take the next feeding.”

  She maneuvered the baby to her shoulder and attempted to test the temperature of the formula.

  “Maybe you should sit.” He put his hands on the back of the chair to steady it for her.

  “You think I’m clumsy?”

  He smiled slightly. “I’d rather you nett take any chances.” He helped her into the chair. “I admit, you appear more capable than me.” He sat on the edge of the bed. “How hot is the formula supposed to be?”

  “Warm is all.” She gestured for his arm. “Let’s see your wrist.” She sprinkled a few drops over his outstretched arm. Meanwhile, Ella rebelled. “Warm, jah?”

  “Jah.” His jaw twitched as he watched the wailing infant. “We’ve made her mad.”

  “She’s just telling us what she wants. It’s her only way.” Rachel brought the baby into the crook of her arm and gave her searching mouth the warm milk. “And what about you,” Rachel asked Timothy, “did you eat?”

  “I will later, after everyone’s gone.”

  “You need your strength.”

  He mumbled something under his breath and looked at the ceiling.

  A few minutes of silence passed before Rachel asked, “Would you please bring me a burp cloth?”

  He took a folded cloth from the stack on the dresser. “I was wondering,” he said, bringing the cloth to her. He sat on the bed. “I need help with
the boppli. Mei mamm’s planning to stay during the nacht, but I’ll need someone during the day.”

  Rachel smiled. “I’ll kumm tomorrow.”

  “Denki.” Timothy blew out a breath and rose from the bed. “She needs a woman’s nurturing.” He crossed the room and slipped out the door.

  A father’s care too . . .

  Rachel arrived at Timothy’s house shortly after sunrise. “How did Ella do last nacht?” she asked Anna.

  “Gut, but you have that little one spoiled already.” Anna closed the door after Rachel entered. “I had to coax her to take a bottle from me.”

  “She ate though, right?”

  “Ach, jah. Once she got used to mei voice.” She lifted her hand to cover a yawn. “Those feedings every two hours wore me out.”

  Rachel followed Anna into the kitchen. She couldn’t wait to hold the baby. “Is Ella sleeping?”

  “Jah, but she should wake soon.”

  “And Timothy? Is he resting too?” Rachel picked up the kettle, checked the water level, then set it on the stove.

  “He said he couldn’t sit idle so he went out to his shop.” She sighed. “I’m worried. He wouldn’t eat breakfast.”

  “I’ll see that he gets a warm lunch.” Rachel motioned to the kettle. “Would you like a cup of kaffi?”

  “Nay, I still have to make breakfast for mei husband,” she said. “Tell Timothy I’ll be back tonight.”

  Rachel waited for Anna to leave before she tiptoed to the bedroom to check on Ella. The baby fussed. “Shh, it’s okay.” She gathered the baby in her arms and checked the diaper. Wet.

  She softly hummed a High German tune as she changed Ella and the baby stopped fussing. Afterward, she cocooned the infant in the soft blanket and carried her out to the kitchen to prepare a bottle.

  Within a short time, Rachel had the baby fed, burped, and back to sleep in the crib. It was too early to make lunch, so she needed something to keep her busy. The floors needed scrubbing after all the foot traffic through the house for the funeral. She found the rag mop and pail on the back porch and looked under the sink for cleaning detergents.

  Before adding the soap, Jordan’s formula came to mind. She put the detergent back, found the jug of vinegar and the container of vegetable oil, and measured out equal parts. The combination of Jordan leaving and losing her sister left an unmendable void.

  As she moved the mop back and forth over the floor in slow rhythm, her emotions seemed to move with it. Guilt to loneliness to resentment to grief—astounding grief. And when the wood grains shined from Jordan’s concoction, an anger she couldn’t identify or understand burned through her veins.

  She heard the door open, and Timothy had walked halfway across the sitting room before she had a chance to tell him the floor was wet. He stopped, looked behind him at the tracks from the door, and mumbled, “Sorry.”

  Rachel sniffled, wiping her face with her dress sleeve. “It’s all right.” She rested the mop handle against the wall and tiptoed over the wet floor to the kitchen. “I’m sorry. I haven’t started cooking yet.”

  “Don’t trouble yourself. I’m heading into town for material.” He took a thin notebook from the kitchen drawer and did his best to follow the same muddy boot prints, apologizing as he did. He took his hat from the hook. “I shouldn’t be long.”

  Rachel resumed mopping, going back over the floor that had the footprints. When she finished the floors, she dusted the windowsills and filled all the lamps with kerosene. She kept busy with things that didn’t alleviate the sorrow that threatened to consume her.

  She stepped down into the cellar’s cool dampness to find something to prepare for their meal. She inventoried the covered dishes left over from the funeral supper. She looked at each one, not truly seeing them. Her chest tightened as reality poured in. Sadie was gone. The kindness of others surrounded her in the form of casseroles. Rachel collapsed to her knees, put her face in her hands, and sobbed.

  When the tears began to subside, she eased herself up. Brushing off her knees, she stood, determined to move forward. Yet even the simple task of choosing between the three-bean casserole and the macaroni and cheese overwhelmed her.

  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 a
re 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

  Am 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.