Brush of Angel's Wings Page 7

  He leaned back in the rocker and looked up at the ceiling. “What am I doing here?” he asked under his breath. “I’m not Amish.”

  “Knock, child, and the door will be opened. Seek and you will find.” Nathaniel drew closer. He longed to administer compassion and dry Jordan’s watery eyes, but some tears will cleanse the soul for those who recognize their spirit’s cry. When Jordan closed his eyes, Nathaniel pumped his wings, creating a gentle wind that lifted the pages of the book lying next to him.

  Tangus crept along the room’s crown molding. A filmy brume dispersed from his mouth. “Nathaniel, you keep revealing your perceived truth to someone who refuses to heed your call.” Tangus edged closer and flitted above Jordan. “He listens to me. Don’t you, Jordan?”

  Jordan shot off the chair and twisted around, sure someone had spoken. No one was there, but the room didn’t feel empty. The planked floor creaked as he walked over to the wooden-sash window. Sprigs of green buds on the maple tree filled the branches with life. A strange heaviness caused him to turn. Yet no one had entered the room. His gaze locked on the lamp’s flickering orange flame and how its shadows licked the wall.

  Jordan returned to the side table and picked up the Bible. Scanning the open page, his eyes caught on the verse, “Cast all your cares . . .” He stopped reading when he heard footsteps tapping down the wooden stairs. He had just set the Bible back on the table when Rachel appeared. His breath unexpectedly caught in his chest, causing him to cough. With her prayer kapp set back from her forehead, her wheat-colored hair looked vibrant against her plum-colored dress, and she looked even more beautiful. His hands moistened and he wiped them down his pants to dry them.

  Rachel darted into the kitchen. A moment later she reappeared holding a covered dish, her mother at her side.

  “Let me carry that for you,” he said and reached for the food container. Something inside the warm dish smelled good. He hoped it would be tasty too.

  The door opened and Micah stepped inside and wiped his feet on the rug. “I asked Jordan to bring you home early.”

  “Yes, sir.” Jordan reinforced his promise with a stiff nod.

  “Gut,” Rachel said sharply.

  Miriam placed her arm around her daughter’s slender waist. “Be gracious to your host.”

  “Jah, I’ll be sure to.” Rachel removed her cape from the wall peg and put on her bonnet, tying the strings in a bow under her chin.

  Miriam escorted them out to the porch. “Enjoy the fellowship.”

  “Yes, Mamm.” Rachel glanced at Jordan, her eyes mirroring his reservations.

  He waited until Rachel climbed into the buggy, then handed her the dish. This night might prove more challenging than he expected.

  If it wasn’t the first time Naomi was hosting, Rachel would have continued her avoidance of all singings. But how could she disappoint her closest friend? So with a mixture of excitement for Naomi and dread for herself, she settled into Jordan’s buggy.

  Rachel touched her neck. She hoped her dry throat, partly from the dread, and somewhat raw from the cool breeze, wouldn’t affect her singing. With Jordan attending, she didn’t want to sound froggy.

  Jordan climbed on the bench beside her and released the buggy brake. Once they were on the road, he tapped the container she held. “What’s in the dish?”

  “Babrag boi.”

  His brows crinkled.

  “Rhubarb crisp.”

  “With sugar?”

  She almost smiled but managed to hold it in check. “I didn’t make it. Mei mamm did.”

  “Then it’s safe to eat, I suppose.” He looked at her, his eyes full of laughter.

  For some reason this time she didn’t mind his teasing. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ve learned my cooking secrets from Mamm.”

  Jordan burst out laughing. Rachel liked the sound of it. It made her insides swell with a different kind of joy than she was used to.

  After that, they grew silent. Rachel had so many things to ask him, most of which would be prying. It was unlike her to be so curious about someone’s life. Perhaps because he came from a world she hadn’t much experience in.

  Thankfully, Naomi’s house was a short distance from hers and the rest of the awkward silence wasn’t too insufferable.

  Jordan pulled the buggy in front of the house to let her out before taking Blaze and the buggy by the others near the barn.

  Instead of taking her hand to assist her, he offered to hold the dish as she stepped down. At the door, he handed it to an eager Naomi, then excused himself.

  Naomi looped her arm around Rachel’s and giggled. “How was the ride here with Jordan?”

  Rachel rolled her eyes. “We both know it was arranged.”

  Naomi had heard it as clearly as she when Jordan hesitated to agree.

  “The others don’t need to know that. Besides, maybe—”

  “Don’t say it. Jordan and I don’t get along.” Rachel removed her cape and bonnet and hung them with the others on the hook.

  “Have you prayed about it?”

  If the truth were told, she hadn’t prayed about much since her brother’s death. She hadn’t moved away from her faith, but she struggled to speak with a God who didn’t always make sense.

  “Not yet,” she said. “I don’t know that I need to.”

  “You need to pray about everything, Rachel Hartzler.”

  Rachel pointed at her dish. “Where shall we put that?”

  Naomi sighed. “You do that a lot. You change the subject.”

  Rachel shrugged and followed Naomi into the kitchen.

  Naomi’s kitchen was small compared to the one in their farmhouse. The cookstove and firebox took up one portion of the room, while shelves of canned goods lined another wall. Since cabinets wrapped around the other walls, there wasn’t much space around the long wooden table, which seated ten.

  Rachel eased over to the window to see if she could find Jordan. He stood in the midst of the fellows but didn’t appear engaged in their conversation. He seemed intent to remain an outsider. It made no sense to her. Even if he was leaving, why would he not at least enjoy the time he had? The Amish treasured their close friendships. They bonded their tight community and fostered their strong belief not to be of the world. She had to remind herself that he wasn’t Amish.

  It wasn’t long before the men shuffled into the kitchen. They sat opposite the women at the table. All except Jordan, who stood near the entry, as though ready to make a quick escape. Rachel couldn’t get the image of him out of her mind. There had to be more of a reason for his refusal to participate than just the fact that he didn’t plan on staying in the community. He certainly wasn’t shy. Yet, propped against the wall, he looked despondent.

  Naomi paused at the entrance. “I’ll fetch another chair.”

  “I’d rather stand,” Jordan said.

  Naomi’s nose crinkled, then after a brief hesitation she said, “Let me know if you get tired.”

  The singing started with the familiar praise song “Loblied,” taken from the Ausbund. Rachel looked over at Jordan. With his arms crossed, his eyes traveled up the wooden molding of the door frame as though inspecting it. He wasn’t even humming along. He hadn’t been with the community long, but he attended services so he had at least heard most of the songs. Instead, his mouth tightened, as if guarding himself from joining in.

  Several songs later, the group took a break to enjoy refreshments. As they lined up in front of the food, Rachel ambled over to Jordan.

  “Why won’t you join everyone and sing? Don’t you wish to honor God?”

  His stare bored into her. “Who says you must sing to honor him?”

  She stared back. “Why did you agree to kumm if it wasn’t to participate?”

  “To keep an eye on you as your father requested.” Jordan pushed away from the wall and reached for her elbow. He moved her toward the dwindling food line. “Let’s eat.”

  Rachel stepped in line, following the others, aware
of Jordan close at her shoulder. She reached for the same spatula as Peter Wyse and pulled back her hand.

  Peter gestured for her to go first. “Are you enjoying the singing, Rachel?”

  “Jah, it’s a wundebaar gathering.” Her hand trembled as she scooped a serving of shoofly pie that was so large it teetered on the spatula. Peter brought his plate under her hand just as the slice slid out of control. “Perfect teamwork,” he said when it landed on his plate. “Thanks.”

  “Ach.” She handed Peter the server. “Please, you go first.”

  Peter selected a slice and reached for her plate to place it on.

  “Denki.”

  Peter continued to offer help with her food selections as they made their way along the counter. At the end, she looked at the heaping plateful and gulped. In her eagerness to accept all that Peter served, she hadn’t considered how foolish she looked with more food than she could possibly eat.

  Jordan peered at her plate and grinned. “You have a hearty appetite tonight.”

  Rachel looked at him, everything in her pleading with him not to tease her in front of everyone or point out her folly. Whether he understood her silent plea or not, he pivoted to shield her from the others. “Slide what you won’t eat onto my plate.”

  She eased a good-sized portion of her food to his dish, grateful for his willingness to rescue her from embarrassment. Perhaps he was thoughtful after all.

  “I guess I was somewhat distracted,” she admitted.

  “So it seems.”

  Judging by his amused expression, the cherries in the cobbler were not colored as brightly red as her face.

  He leaned closer. “Should we find a seat, Red?”

  Naomi took the chair opposite William, while Rachel sat across from Peter. Anne, a small-framed girl, eyed the chair opposite Jordan. It seemed the pairing up had begun. At the other end of the table, Dorothy and her sister Tamara chatted with Noah and James, who had come over from the adjoining district. Clearly, by the ongoing prattle, plans of who would ride home together were already in the making.

  Rachel’s stomach knotted. Even though the last singing she’d attended was so long ago, she remembered feeling like she wore two left shoes. Timothy had kindly volunteered to drive her, but she didn’t want to impose on Sadie and him. After that last time, even Daed didn’t say much when she dallied in the barn feeding the animals on Sunday evenings.

  “Do you have a favorite song?” Anne asked Jordan.

  He looked up from eating long enough to answer. “No.”

  Rachel touched Anne’s forearm. “He doesn’t sing.”

  Jordan glanced at Rachel, then looked at Anne. “I sing. I just don’t know any Deitsch songs.”

  “He’s a distant sort,” Naomi whispered to Rachel. “We’ll have to work on that.”

  Distant wasn’t necessarily the way Rachel would describe Jordan in a group. Impersonal, aloof, downright rude—she could name multiple descriptions of him. She could name more, and each one made her very aware that he was not one of them. Except for his attachment to her father, Jordan appeared content not interacting with anyone.

  Several people excused themselves to talk on the porch.

  Rachel picked at her food. She didn’t want to appear wasteful, but this was still too much. Without looking up, she could feel Jordan’s eyes piercing her.

  He slid his empty plate across the table. “You can trade with me.”

  Rachel considered him. “You sure?”

  “Yes, just pass it over.”

  She quickly glanced around the room to see if anyone was watching, then traded his empty dish for her barely touched food.

  Jordan ate in silence while she watched in gratitude. His kindness to her tonight was undeserved and unexpected. Had jealousy of his relationship with her father skewed her view of him?

  She took the empty dish to the sink and tapped Naomi on the shoulder. “If you get some water warming on the stove, I’ll wash the dishes.”

  “Ach, nay. I’ll do them after everyone is gone.”

  Peter brought his dish and came up beside them. “Rachel, would you like to get some fresh air out on the porch?”

  Rachel wiped her hands on the sides of her dress, but they weren’t wet. No one had ever requested to talk to her alone on the porch.

  Jordan squared his shoulders, glanced sideways at them, then continued eating.

  “Jah, Peter, I’d like that.” Rachel walked with him to the door, took her cape and bonnet from the hook, and strolled with him into the cool night air. Several couples hushed their conversations as Peter led the way to a vacant section on the wraparound porch. They stood next to the railing, both silent.

  Peter’s lanky frame shifted. “The sky is thick with stars tonight.”

  “Jah, the moon is full too.” She fiddled with the side seam of her cape and discovered a loose thread to twist around her finger.

  The fresh scent of apple blossoms filled the air. She loved it when the trees bloomed in April.

  Several minutes passed before Peter turned sideways and faced her. “I haven’t seen you at a singing before.” He stepped closer. “Would your parents object if I escorted you home?”

  “Jah.” Jordan’s abrupt reply startled Rachel, and Peter flinched at his appearance.

  Jordan folded his arms across his broad chest.

  Rachel bristled at his possessive stance. Jordan was out of bounds. She wasn’t under his authority. “I think Peter was asking me the question.”

  He cast a brief glance at Peter but steadied his eyes on Rachel. “It doesn’t matter.” He turned to Peter. “I brought her, and I intend to see that she gets home.”

  Peter raised his hands. “I didn’t mean to—”

  “You didn’t.” Jordan reached for Rachel’s elbow. “I promised your daed I’d have you home early.”

  “Perhaps I’ll meet you after you get the buggy,” Rachel said.

  “I’ll wait.” Jordan took two steps backward and waited next to the house. Even after her steely glare, he merely shifted his stance and displayed a lopsided grin.

  “Maybe another time, Peter?” She felt she should apologize but couldn’t with Jordan standing right there.

  Peter glanced sideways at Jordan, then turned back to her. “Sure.”

  “I’d like that.”

  Jordan moved closer to them. “Okay, now that you’ve made your plans, we should be going.” He stepped between her and Peter and reached for her elbow. “I don’t want your daed upset with me for not returning you early.”

  She twirled around to get away from him and shot off the porch in the direction of the buggy.

  With a few long strides, Jordan reached her. “If you had a bruder, you would understand.”

  She gasped. If James were alive, he wouldn’t have interfered. “You’re not my keeper.”

  “I am for the evening.” He opened the buggy door and reached for her elbow. “Do you need help getting in?”

  Rachel jerked her arm free. “I forgot. I have to get my dish and say good-bye to Naomi.” When she flitted to the house, he kept her pace.

  “Both Esther’s and Anne’s bruders were there and neither one hovered over their sister,” she said.

  “Jah, and both Jacob and Enos had interests other than their sisters. I’m only interested in you—keeping you safe.”

  “Nett necessary.”

  Once inside the house, she found her dish on the counter.

  “I wish you could stay longer.” Naomi squeezed Rachel’s hand. She leaned in, gave her brows a suggestive wiggle, and whispered, “I understand.”

  No, she didn’t understand. Still, Naomi’s statement caused Rachel to bite the inside of her cheek.

  “Thank you for inviting us.” Jordan turned to Rachel. “Are you ready to go, Red?”

  Rachel growled under her breath and turned to Naomi. “I’ll see you soon.”

  Naomi winked. “Jah, Red, soon.”

  Once they reached the buggy, she drew
a deep breath. “Because of you, everyone will tease me for my face turning red.”

  His eyes searched hers. “I happen to like the color red.”

  Rachel climbed into the buggy and plopped on the bench.

  He lit the lantern, looked at her, and grinned. “It’s a nice shade. Besides, your face isn’t as red now as when you were talking with Peter.”

  “Which you rudely interrupted.”

  He shrugged. “I was ready to leave.”

  “Peter offered to drive me home. That’s the purpose for the singing.”

  He raised his brow in amusement. “Didn’t you accuse me of not honoring God because I wasn’t singing? I’m sure you said that was the purpose for the singing.”

  Rachel turned to face the window opening.

  They drove back in silence. Once in the drive, Jordan pulled back on the reins and Blaze stopped. He set the brake and jumped off the seat. He followed her up the steps to her house.

  She reached for the door handle and paused. “Is this where I’m supposed to tell you I had a nice time?”

  “That’s not necessary.” He cocked his head and smirked. “It wasn’t a date.” He tapped the brim of his hat. “Good night.”

  “Ach!” She pushed the door open and stepped inside muttering, “It certainly wasn’t.”

  Lamplight glowed from the sitting room. Her father had waited up. When she reached him, he was closing the Bible. “How was the singing?”

  “Fine.”

  “You don’t sound like you had a fine time.” He placed the Bible on the table next to the rocker. “Everything go gut with Jordan?”

  “He thinks he’s my overseer.”

  Daed gave a slow, understanding nod, then cracked a smile.

  “I won’t allow him to take James’s place,” she blurted.

  Daed’s smile faded.

  She should’ve guarded her tongue. His eyes dulled.