by Ruth Reid
“No.” He guarded his breathing, taking in only shallow inhalations.
Micah clapped his shoulder. “I’ll teach you how but nett today.” He patted his stomach. “I’m hungry. You too?”
“Yes, sir.”
Rachel set the dishes on the table so hard they rattled. Her mother stood at the stove, oblivious to any attempts Rachel made to temper her anger. It wasn’t that she despised women’s work. She disliked her father’s cold dismissal. Several times in the past she’d helped unload horses that arrived for buggy training or shoeing.
Rachel set the utensils next to the plates and wandered over to the window ledge. The last time she looked out, the narrisch animal reared and both Daed and Jordan were trying to control him when he came down. Once the horse settled, she wasn’t sure who stood prouder, the spotted horse or the owner’s daughter.
The truck no longer in the driveway, she moved away from the window. Her mind reeled with thoughts of how Jordan had shown no shame eyeing the beautiful Kayla Davy. Rachel understood how the girl’s figure, made more obvious in those tight-fitting jeans, would attract his attention—but why should that bother her?
Mamm poured the gravy from the beef roast into a serving dish. “Put the bread and butter on the table. Everything should be ready when they kumm in to eat.” She placed the pot in the sink and ran some water into the empty pan to soak.
The back door opened. The men doffed their hats and placed them on wall hooks.
“I use bar steel and always leave a very small bit of expansion room.” Daed held up his fingers, indicating the minuscule space. “I’ll show you when we shoe next week.”
“Great,” Jordan said and pulled out the chair where he’d sat during breakfast.
Daed took his place, continuing the topic of shoeing.
Her father had bonded quickly with the hired hand. Too quickly. Rachel set the bowl of potatoes in the center of the table and pulled out the chair across from Jordan.
When she opened her eyes after offering an abbreviated quiet grace, she noticed Jordan’s eyes roaming from the food to her parents, then stopping on her, smiling.
Daed opened his eyes and picked up the knife to slice the roast.
“I tilled another row before putting Clyde up,” Jordan said, then added, “I’ll work on it tomorrow too.”
“Nett meiya. Timothy needs help with his addition.” He glanced at Rachel. “Maybe you and Mamm will bake a pie to bring?” Without waiting for Rachel’s reply, Daed spoke to Jordan. “You like pie, jah?”
Jordan looked at Rachel. “I like anything sweet.”
Like Kayla Davy. Rachel shot him a quick saccharine smile. “I think there’re some crab apples left over from last fall.”
Chapter Five
I wasn’t planning to make anything.” Rachel sawed the knife through the stalk of rhubarb and handed it to Naomi.
“Everyone knows I’m nett a gut cook.” She cut off another section. “That’s why Daed hired Jordan—so that I could prepare for being a fraa.”
“Does he want you to marry Jordan?” She leaned closer and, without giving Rachel a chance to answer, added, “Wouldn’t it be wundebaar for us both to have fall weddings?”
“Nay!”
Naomi pouted. “I thought you wanted to get married.”
“You and I both know that without being asked to be taken home after a singing, it’s nett likely that someone will marry me.” Rachel pushed aside the rhubarb’s leafy cluster to expose the stalks.
“Maybe Jordan is the right bu. He seems different than the rest.” Her friend’s brows lifted.
“He’s different because he’s nett Amish.”
“His mamm was Amish.”
“His daed wasn’t.”
Naomi wiped her hands on her apron. “Why else would he kumm to live here?”
“He doesn’t seem interested in our ways.”
“What you see on the outside isn’t always the same as the inside.”
“Did someone tell you why he’s here?”
“Nay. I have heard nothing.” Naomi tilted her head in thought. “I guess he’s here to marry you.” She chuckled, putting her hand over her mouth.
“That’s nett funny.” Her friend had meddled in trying to match Rachel with a bu more times than any of Rachel’s sisters. But teasing her about Jordan wasn’t something to laugh about.
“You’ll see. He’ll ask you home from the singing.”
Rachel had learned shortly after they both became of courting age not to encourage Naomi. Once Jordan made it clear he wasn’t interested, as all the others had, Rachel hoped Naomi would back off.
“This should be enough for a pie.” Rachel handed Naomi another stalk to add to the bundle. She swept the dirt from her dress. Rhubarb season usually started in another week or two. She hoped cutting some early meant it would be more tart.
“I’ll help you prepare it. I love cooking.” Naomi let out a long dreamy sigh. “I hope William likes what I made. It’s Mammi’s recipe for schnitzboi.”
Rachel smiled. “Of course he will.” William was outspoken about liking everything Naomi cooked. Rachel wondered how Jordan would react to her rhubarb pie if she accidentally forgot to add sugar.
“Rachel, if your pie is ready, we can start loading the buggies with the food.” Sadie plucked a pickle out of a jar and took a bite. “I can’t wait to see the boppli’s room.”
Rachel opened the oven and pulled out a golden-brown crusted pie.
“That one will win a certain someone’s attention,” Naomi whispered.
Rachel smirked, then quickly hid her expression with a dish towel. “I think it will,” she said after composing herself.
She picked up the pie using a set of pot holders and carried it to the buggy. Once all the food was loaded, they headed for her sister’s house.
Pulling into Sadie’s yard, Rachel’s heartbeat quickened when she caught a glimpse of Jordan on the ladder, hammering a nail into a two-by-six. She looked away before he caught her gawking like a schul girl.
Katie Bender’s buggy pulled in and parked a little ways away from them. Rachel couldn’t help the bitter feeling rising up within her. She had no right to be there. She spoke to Sadie. “Who—” Rachel bit her tongue.
“I invited her. She was practically family.” Sadie waved at Katie.
Until James died. Rachel took the hot pie and stepped gingerly down from the buggy. Naomi lifted the bowl of potato salad out of the back of the buggy, and both waited for Sadie to load her arms.
“I wonder if Katie brought her pen and paper,” Naomi whispered. “I heard the bishop has given Katie permission to write for the Budget News again.”
“Jah, I heard that too.” She didn’t understand why the bishop would allow it, especially after all the trouble her writing had caused. “I’m trying to keep mei mouth shut.” Admittedly, she hadn’t tried too hard in the past. But lately, an inward voice of conviction pushed her to attempt to reconcile. She wanted to continue ignoring it, but it was pressing down on her.
Rachel let her focus travel up the ladder and stop at Jordan.
He looked down and grinned.
Heat crawled up Rachel’s neck. Sure that her face looked as if she’d spent the day in the direct sun, Rachel dropped her head so he wouldn’t see. She picked up her pace, looking at her feet as she went. She began to think about Katie. Maybe she could use her endless curiosity to her advantage. Katie could drill Jordan about why he came and how long he planned to stay. She’d presumed it was for the summer only. But what if Daed wanted him to stay through harvest? And worse, what if he wanted him to stay through winter?
Rachel maneuvered the pot holders underneath the hot pie before setting it on the table, then turned to go back for more food. She wondered if she should suggest the interview or not.
Timothy climbed out of the new addition’s window opening, stood back, and admired the structure. “What do you think?” he asked as Rachel was passing.
�
��It looks wundebaar. That’s an awfully big room. Is Sadie expecting more than one boppli?”
“She’s starting to look that way.” A sheepish grin filled his face. “I’ll take multiple boys.”
Rachel pretended to scowl. “And what if she has maydels?”
He pointed to the opposite end of the house. “Then I’ll build another room on that side for the boys we’ll have the next time.”
“And if she has another maydel?” Rachel enjoyed teasing her brother-in-law.
He laughed. “Then we go up. Multiple levels if we must.”
Timothy’s animated facial expressions always had a way of making her laugh. Sadie had certainly found a wonderful husband. Rachel wished there were more men like Timothy. She would have been jealous if it hadn’t been her sister who married him.
She stepped back a few paces to further admire the addition.
Timothy nudged her arm. “There’s probably a singing this Sunday.” He nodded toward Jordan.
Rachel put her hand to her chest, horrified. Timothy had looked out for her welfare more as a brother than a brother-in-law even before James died, but he had never been so bold.
“I thought you were mei friend,” she said.
“Jordan’s new. I think he would like the singings.”
“I don’t know why he would.”
“He could become Amish. It’s not impossible.”
“Please don’t encourage him to stay.” She wanted to sound firm, not begging. She didn’t know if she succeeded or not.
“Your daed needs help, and I’m swamped with work myself.”
Daed didn’t need help—he had her. Besides, Jordan wasn’t a farmer. He proved that when he stopped milking because his hands were too weak to finish filling a bucket. And he plowed a row so crooked it looked like a snake had slithered through the field.
Timothy stepped toward the table of food. “Looks like the food is ready.”
“Jah, I need to get a salad from the buggy,” she said. “Excuse me.”
The men lined up around the tables, except for Jordan, who sat under a tree an unsociable distance away. His auburn hair rippled down the back of his neck and rested on his thick shoulders. If he were wise, he would get a haircut before tomorrow. Since this week’s Sunday service was on their side of the district, the bishop would have something to say about the length.
She reached into the buggy and pulled out the salad. With Jordan under a tree, she could walk with her head up, her strides confident.
Sadie tapped her on the shoulder as she set her salad down. “Jordan might be shy. Why don’t you make a plate of food and take it to him?”
Rachel didn’t care if he was shy. She didn’t care if he starved to death.
“He would probably like to sample your pie.”
Rachel grinned as she reached for a plate, her mood suddenly lightened.
“I’m sure he would.”
Jordan turned when someone cleared her throat behind him.
“Hungry?” In one hand Rachel held a plate, and in her other, a glass of tea that she thrust toward him.
Ravenous was more like it. The sandwich, mound of potato salad, and generous slice of pie made his mouth water. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Rachel began to move away, her back toward the table laden with food.
“You didn’t say what you made.”
She turned around and walked backward, not slowing her pace. “The rhubarb pie.”
“Then I’ll eat that first so I know I’ll have enough room for it.”
“Gut, you do that.” And then said under her breath, “And choke.”
And choke. The girl had spirit. He filled his fork with pie. The moment he closed his mouth around it, his lips puckered and he found it difficult to swallow. He washed down the sourness with great gulps of tea. At least she hadn’t withheld the sugar from the drink.
Rachel looked over her shoulder at him and he touched the brim of his hat. Although he admired someone with her spunk, he wasn’t about to give her any satisfaction of besting him. He took another bite.
Rachel sat at the kitchen table and peeled potatoes while Mamm made a batch of biscuits.
“Sadie’s place has a lot more room nau,” Rachel said.
Mamm sprinkled the table with flour. “I told her we would go over next week and help her make curtains. That will give you some sewing practice.”
Rachel forced a smile. “Oh. Sure.” The thought of sewing frolics had never interested her. And she didn’t want to talk any more about this one. So she changed the subject. “Has Jordan mentioned his mamm to you? He doesn’t seem to say anything about her.”
An odd expression crossed Mamm’s face. It was so quick, Rachel didn’t know how to read it. Mamm split the dough in two sections. “It must be painful to talk about.”
The peels fell steadily from the potato. “Was she shunned like people have said? Did she marry an Englisch man?”
“Rachel.” Mamm wagged the rolling pin and spoke firmly. “I won’t participate in gossip.” She lowered the pin on one section of dough and rolled out a thick layer.
Rachel sensed that her mother wasn’t telling her everything. Her mother knew more than she let on.
Jordan and her daed entered the kitchen talking nonstop about farming as though she and her mamm weren’t even there. They washed up and sat at the table for supper. When all heads had lifted from prayer, Rachel reached for the bowl of potatoes directly in front of her. “Jolly looks like she might deliver soon.”
“Is that so?” Daed tapped the table, his eyes on Jordan. “Have you birthed a calf?”
Jordan swallowed, a spoon of potatoes hovering over his plate. “No.” He let the potatoes fall from the spoon and dug some more from the bowl before passing it on. As he shifted, his wavy hair covered his eyes.
Ach, why did she bring up the pregnant cow? She hoped they wouldn’t leave her out of that too. Rachel reached for the vegetables. “Tomorrow’s service is at the Yoders’ haus.”
Mamm exchanged the creamed corn for the potatoes. “Will Naomi be hosting a singing?”
“I suppose.” Rachel didn’t really want to go to that topic either. She’d only wanted to change the conversation from farming, so Daed didn’t have a chance to exclude her from helping to birth the calves.
She tilted her head as though noticing Jordan’s unkempt hair for the first time. “You could use a haircut before service.”
“I’ll shape it up after supper,” Mamm said.
Jordan shifted in his seat. He opened his mouth to say something, then lifted a spoonful of creamed corn to it instead.
“She cuts mei daed’s.” Not always even on the sides, she almost added.
Daed chuckled. “Don’t worry. She’s gut nau about not clipping the ear.”
Jordan cut a glance from one to the other.
Rachel stifled a snicker and stabbed a piece of meatloaf. When they finished supper, she cleared the table and washed the dishes while Mamm cut Jordan’s hair on the porch. When Rachel had finished her tasks, she stepped outside.
Mamm lowered the scissors. “What do you think? His hair is much thicker than your father’s. It doesn’t lay the same.”
Rachel cocked her head. “It isn’t even.” She pointed to the left side. Mamm trimmed it more, and Rachel reevaluated. “Too much. Nau the right side needs shortening.”
She held her expression even, although her stomach wanted to twist with suppressed laughter.
“Ach, his hair is too thick.” Mamm extended the shears toward her. “Maybe you can do better. I’ll go fetch him some clean towels for the grossdaadi haus.”
“Have you learned not to clip ears yet?” Jordan asked, sounding a bit worried.
“I haven’t clipped any yet.” She didn’t tell him she hadn’t cut anyone’s hair, so she hadn’t had the chance to clip an ear.
He closed his eyes when she lifted the scissors.
The softness of his bangs took her by surprise.
A tingle spread from her fingertips through her arms and deep into her core. For a moment she froze.
He peeked through the locks, his green eyes taking on a puppy dog appearance. She drew a deep breath and readied the scissors. “I’ve only sheared sheep,” she said, snipping off a hunk of hair.
“Then I don’t know if I want you to cut—”
Chunks of hair fluttered to the ground. He lifted his hand and, guiding it over what remained of his bangs, let out a growl under his breath.
Rachel cringed. “Maybe I took off too much.”
“So you say.” He reached for her wrist and gingerly removed the scissors from her hand. “I’ll finish.”
Rachel swiped the hair clippings off one of his shoulders. His muscles tensed, causing a ripple of heat to surface over her face. She jerked her hand away. “I’ll fetch the broom and sweep up these shavings and put them in the garden because they’ll keep the deer away.” Her words ran together like a little girl’s. Embarrassed again, she put her hand on the door to go inside just as Mamm appeared on the other side holding a handful of towels.
Mamm looked at Jordan and her eyes widened. She handed Rachel the towels. “You better carry these for him. Jordan’s covered in hair clippings.”
Jordan set the scissors on the stool and grabbed his hat from the railing. He raked at his head with his fingers as though searching for his missing hair, then slammed his hat over his ears, grumbling something about looking like a Dutch boy.
They walked silently to the little house. He opened the door and stepped aside to let her in. “There’s an oil lamp on the table if you need it,” he said.
“Jah,” she said softly, “this was my grandparents’ place until they passed away.” Although it wasn’t her missing grandparents that gave her an aching heart. Stepping into the small house reminded her of James and all the hope that had been a part of the house when he was to take it over. He and Katie talked about adding on another bedroom when they started their family.
Rachel set the towels down on the table next to the lamp. The pack of matches lying there felt damp. After the third match failed to light, Jordan came up beside her, produced a pack from his pocket, and lit the wick.
