One True Path

by Cameron, Barbara;

  “Nothing’s wrong. I’m just worried about what I said—about the hospital bills.”

  “If Michael’s insurance doesn’t pay, you know our community will pitch in the way it always has.”

  She got to her feet. “I need to go inside and get some things done.”

  “Allrecht,” he said as he stood. “I need to do those chores.”

  “Oh, I forgot to say thank you for what you did for my daed at the furniture store. Doing his work and seeing he got paid for it, I mean.”

  “No one was supposed to know about it.”

  “That’s just like you. Always doing good and not looking for a thank-you,” she said quietly.

  “Anyone would have done it.”

  She shook her head. “You were already doing his daily chores and you took on even more. Danki.”

  “No thanks are necessary. I’d do anything for you and your family, Rachel Ann. Anything.”

  Silence stretched between them—a tenuous thread he was afraid to break by saying anything else. The picture of the kapp came to his mind again. If she was in trouble, he hoped she understood what he was offering.

  If he was wrong and voiced his concern, he would be saying something about her personal life and he’d appear judgmental and he didn’t want to. Some things were best left unsaid.

  “Tell your parents how happy I am about Sam.”

  “I will. Gut-n-owed.”

  He walked down the stairs and went around the back of the house to the barn, grateful for his chores to take his mind off the path it had traveled.

  8

  Rachel Ann put a casserole into the oven for supper and looked around for something to do.

  She and her parents had spent so much time away from home, the house had stayed relatively clean. There was some laundry to be done, but it was too late to start it. Feeling restless, she decided to go for a walk.

  A block from home she heard a vehicle behind her. Its engine sounded louder than most cars, so she moved further right on the shoulder for safety. A glance back had her eyes widening in shock.

  Michael!

  She heard a screech of brakes as he apparently recognized her. He pulled over onto the grass and waited for her to walk back to the car.

  “Hi!” he said, giving her a grin. “I wasn’t sure it was you at first.”

  “You’re back from your trip.”

  “Yeah. It was great. Get in.”

  She hesitated, remembering the last drive. But they needed to talk. “Can we go back to my house and sit in the drive and talk? I have a casserole in the oven I need to take out in half an hour.”

  “Sure.”

  She got in and fastened her seat belt.

  Michael checked traffic, did a U-turn, and headed back in the direction of her house. “You look tired.”

  “Just what a girl likes to hear,” she muttered.

  He pulled into the drive of her house, shut off the engine, and slung one arm along the back of the seat. His fingers toyed with one of the strings of her kapp. She brushed his hand away.

  “Michael, we have to talk.”

  “Sounds serious.”

  She turned in her seat to look at him. “It is.” She hesitated, twisting her hands in her lap as she debated which topic she should bring up first.

  “What’s up?” he prodded.

  “Daed said there hasn’t been any payment on Sam’s hospital bill. You’d said your insurance company was going to pay it.”

  “These things take time.” He pulled out his cell phone and spent a few minutes texting. “There,” he said when his fingers stopped flying across the keyboard of his phone. “I just sent a message to my insurance agent and copied my dad. He’ll make sure this is taken care of.”

  He ran his hands over the steering wheel. “Did you think I wouldn’t honor what I said?”

  “I didn’t know what to think.”

  “Have a little faith.”

  She jerked her head up and looked at him, wondering if he was joking. Sure enough, a smile played around his lips. She forced herself to look away from his too-attractive mouth.

  He leaned closer. “How about a welcome-back kiss?”

  She drew back so quickly she smacked the back of her head on the passenger window.

  “That’s how we got into this mess,” she muttered.

  “What?”

  A van pulled into the drive behind them. Rachel Ann turned and watched her parents get out. Then her mother reached into the vehicle, and when she emerged she held Sam in her arms.

  “Oh, my gosh, Sam!” she cried and couldn’t get out of the car fast enough.

  “Sam?” she heard Michael saying behind her.

  Rachel Ann rushed up to her mother and hugged Sam. “Welcome home, baby bruder!”

  “Cast,” he said, pointing to his leg. “Don’t want cast.” He gave her an imploring look that just about broke her heart.

  “Sam, you have to wear it for a while,” his mother said with the weary air of someone tired of repeating herself. “You heard the doctor.”

  He frowned, then turned to his mother. “Ice cream?” he asked, flashing her a charming grin.

  “Yes, you can have ice cream after supper.”

  Rachel Ann bit back a smile. Under normal circumstances, her mother found it hard to deny Sam anything. Now she had a feeling it was going to be hard for Mamm to say no to anything her sohn wanted.

  Michael walked up. “Well, this is a surprise. Hello, Sam. It’s so good to see how well you’re doing. Rachel Ann didn’t tell me you’d woken up.”

  “You didn’t?” her mother asked. “Why not?”

  “He just got here,” she said quickly. “I didn’t have a chance yet.”

  Michael turned to her father and held out his cell phone. “Sir, Rachel Ann asked me about the insurance. I texted my insurance agent, and I just heard back from him. You don’t need to worry. He said they’re taking care of the hospital bill. Things just take longer than we’d like.”

  Her father looked relieved. “It’s good to know. Thank you.”

  “Let’s get Sam inside,” her mother said, starting for the house.

  “I have to be going,” Michael told Rachel Ann. “I’ll give you a call tomorrow.”

  She wanted desperately to talk to him, but now wasn’t the time. She wanted to go inside with her family, and besides, they would wonder why she was outside talking to Michael.

  “Talk to you tomorrow,” she told him, and she forced a smile.

  She followed her parents into the house.

  “Something smells like it’s burning,” her father said.

  “That would be supper,” Rachel Ann told him. She rushed into the kitchen to pull the casserole out of the oven. “Well, we can’t eat this,” she announced as she dumped the blackened mess into the garbage.

  “Why are you smiling?” her mother wanted to know.

  “This is just too good a day to be upset about something like this,” she told them as she grinned at Sam. “What should we have, scrambled eggs or pancakes?”

  “Pancakes!” Sam squealed and clapped his hands.

  “Pancakes it is.”

  * * *

  Abram was feeding a carrot to Brownie when Leroy walked into the barn.

  “Gut-n-owed. You’re home early tonight.”

  “I got off work early so we could bring Sam home.”

  The carrot fell from his hand. Brownie neatly caught it before it hit the straw-lined floor.

  “Sam’s home?” He slapped Leroy’s back. “What gut news.”

  Leroy nodded. Although he looked tired, his face had lost some of its tension from the past weeks. “When can I see him?”

  “Right now if you like. Rachel Ann’s making him supper.”

  He started for the house, not even glancing behind him to see if Leroy followed. When he stepped into the kitchen he saw Rachel Ann standing at the stove. Sam sat at the kitchen table happily stuffing his mouth with a big bite of pancake.


  “Abram!” Sam cried and clapped his hands.

  “Sam! It’s good to see you!” He slipped into the chair next to Sam’s and gave him a hug.

  “Be careful of sticky fingers,” Rachel Ann cautioned.

  But Sam was already patting Abram’s cheeks. Abram looked startled for a moment and then laughed.

  Rachel Ann rushed to dampen a dishcloth and hand it to him. “Maybe you’d rather Sarah kiss those sweet cheeks,” she teased and laughed when he reddened.

  “Aren’t you in a good mood,” he muttered.

  “Sam’s home,” she said simply.

  “And what about the other . . . issue worrying you?”

  She stared at him, not comprehending.

  He glanced around. “Where’s your mother?”

  “Out in the phone shanty. Why?”

  “Now’s not the time to talk when someone could walk in,” he said as he wiped the syrup off his face. “But anytime you want to talk just let me know.”

  Martha walked into the room. “Hello, Abram. I didn’t know you were here. Rachel Ann, how many pancakes has Sam eaten?”

  “Three.”

  “I want more,” Sam told her. He banged his fork on the table.

  “Then you can’t have ice cream.”

  He pushed his empty plate away. “Ice cream.”

  “Please.”

  “Please,” he added, giving his mother a charming smile.

  Rachel Ann got the ice cream and a bowl and served Sam two scoops. “Mamm? Abram? Can I get you some ice cream?”

  Her mother shook her head. “Too full from the pancakes. Unlike somebody we know,” she said, watching Sam shovel ice cream into his mouth.

  “My mother said I’ve always been a bottomless pit when it came to eating,” Abram said as he stood. “No ice cream, thanks. I need to get home for my supper.” He bent and kissed the top of Sam’s head. “Welcome home, Sam.”

  He straightened and looked at Rachel Ann. “Talk to you later.”

  Was it his imagination he saw confusion in her eyes?

  “I was wondering what was taking you so long,” his mother said when he walked into the kitchen at his house.

  “Sam just came home,” he told her. “I was visiting with him,”

  She clasped her hands and looked heavenward. “Danki,” she whispered. “I wonder if Martha would mind if I paid a quick visit?”

  “I don’t think she’d mind at all.”

  She nodded. “I’m going to run over there for just a minute. Go ahead and eat without me.”

  Abram washed his hands at the sink, picked up his bowl, and served himself the stew he found simmering on the stove. His mother had already sliced bread and set it and butter on the table along with glasses of ice water. A pumpkin pie sat cooling on a rack on the counter.

  He measured coffee and water into the percolator and set it on a back burner on the gas stove.

  He sat down, said a prayer of thanks for the meal, and dug in as the percolator bubbled and the scent of coffee filled the room. As he ate, he found himself thinking about how lucky he was. Not only did he have a comfortable home, he had someone who cooked for him so he didn’t have to rely on his limited cooking skills. He’d been forced to rely on them when his mother had been in the hospital and before she recovered enough to return to the cooking she loved to do.

  Two helpings of stew later, he poured himself a mug of coffee and cut himself a large piece of the pie. He added a scoop of vanilla ice cream and grinned as he remembered Sam’s happiness eating pancakes for supper and ice cream for dessert.

  His mother came in beaming a few minutes later. She chattered as she served herself stew and sat at the table. After she prayed, she dipped her spoon into her stew. “It was so gut to see Sam home. And Leroy and Martha already look better. They were looking so strained.”

  “What about Rachel Ann?” he asked casually.

  Lovina frowned. “She doesn’t look herself. Maybe it’s because she’s so tired from working two jobs. Let’s hope she doesn’t have to do it much longer.”

  He nodded. “Pie’s really good.”

  “How about the stew?”

  Abram grinned. “Fishing for a compliment?” he teased. Before she could respond, he told her he’d had two servings. “I’d have a second slice of pie, but then you’d have to roll me from the table.”

  “So, what kind of cook is Sarah?”

  The sip of coffee he’d just taken went down the wrong way. He coughed and sputtered.

  “Are you allrecht?”

  He drank some water. “Ya. Where did that come from?”

  “Just wondered, since you’re seeing her.”

  “Being a good cook isn’t necessary to see someone,” he said carefully.

  “No, but if you’re courting her . . .”

  “I’m not ‘courting’ her as you put it. I’ve just taken her out a few times. And how did you know this?” He stopped. “Why do I ask such a thing? The Amish grapevine is faster than the Internet.”

  “A man who likes to eat as much as you will want a wife who is a good cook,” she said a bit defensively.

  “True.”

  “So is she?”

  “Her brownies are amazing.”

  “Man can’t live on brownies after he’s worked all day in the field.”

  He laughed. “You just have to have the last word. Tell you what, I’ll find out if we get serious, allrecht?”

  “I suppose I could teach her if she doesn’t know,” Lovina said as she cut herself a piece of pie. “But sometimes young brides can be touchy about that sort of thing.”

  Abram noticed she limped a bit as she returned to the table, so he got up and poured her a cup of coffee and set it before her.

  “Danki,” she said, and she patted his hand. “You’re a good sohn. I don’t want to meddle, but I don’t want you to get so used to taking care of your old mother you don’t look into finding a wife.”

  “You’re not old,” he told her. She wasn’t—she was only in her fifties, but he knew her injury had slowed her down a lot and probably made her feel older. “And I’m grateful for you living here.”

  He reached over with his fork and swiped a bite of her pie. “So tell me, how long do you think his cast is going to keep Sam from being the terror he’s always been?”

  * * *

  Rachel Ann cleaned up the kitchen and climbed the stairs to her bedroom. Hours later she was still lying awake and worrying.

  God had been so good to heal Sam and let them bring him home. It was truly a miracle, and she was thankful. Now, if He would just assure her she hadn’t gotten pregnant. She closed her eyes and prayed and prayed. Her Bible lay on her nightstand. She reached for it and a bookmark someone had given her fell out. The phrase from Hebrews 13:5 printed on it was one that had always soothed her: “Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.” Finally, she fell asleep.

  Michael didn’t call the next day or the day after. Rachel Ann forced herself to concentrate on work, but she burned her hand at the bakery because she wasn’t paying enough attention when she went to get something out of the oven.

  Her boss found her holding her hand under the tap, tears running down her cheeks. She fussed over Rachel Ann and bustled around getting ice from the refrigerator.

  “How bad does it hurt, kind?” she asked as she made Rachel Ann sit down and hold the plastic bag of ice on the burn. “Do you want to go to the emergency room?”

  She shook her head. “It’s not so bad. I’m just mad at myself for not being careful enough.”

  Linda made a tsking noise. “These things happen. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve gotten burned. It’s part of the job.”

  She bustled around, taking pans of cookies out of the oven when the timer buzzed, fixed Rachel Ann a cup of tea, and went back to the front of the bakery when the bell over the door jangled, announcing a customer’s arrival.

  Rachel Ann took the ice off the burn, applied some ointment Linda brought h
er, and went back to work.

  A rainstorm swept through midday, so there were few customers at Stitches in Time. Leah asked Rachel Ann to straighten the storeroom, a task she welcomed. It meant she could be by herself and not keep a smiling mask on her face.

  “Hey there!”

  She looked up from straightening several bolts of fabric and saw Mary Katherine standing in the doorway.

  “I’m supposed to help you.”

  “Great,” Rachel Ann said and tried to sound enthusiastic.

  “You okay? I saw you burned your hand.”

  “It’s not too bad. I just wasn’t paying enough attention.”

  “You seem distracted. I’m a good listener if you want to talk. I promise I won’t offer advice unless you ask for it.”

  “Danki, but I’m fine.”

  “I remember my rumschpringe,” Mary Katherine said as she rewrapped a bolt of fabric to neaten it. “It was a difficult time. I didn’t know what world I belonged in—Amish or Englisch. I struggled. One of the reasons I struggled was because I didn’t feel loved. I was constantly trying to please my father.”

  She stopped and shook her head. “I’m sorry, I said I could be a listener if you needed one and here I am telling you about what I went through. But sometimes your parents—especially your mamm—reminds me of my dat. She always seems so stern.” She bit her lip. “If I’ve offended you, I apologize.”

  Rachel Ann shook her head. “It’s allrecht. I know I’ve probably seemed moody. I appreciate your caring.”

  They worked silently until Leah called them back into the store twenty minutes later. The storm had passed, the sun came out, and customers came out in droves like mushrooms after a good rain.

  Rachel Ann walked out of the shop exhausted and eager to get home. It had been a long day.

  Abram was sitting on the porch talking with her father when she arrived home. Just as Rachel Ann was about to step onto the first stair, her mother poked her head out the door.

  “Leroy, Sam’s asking for you.”

  Her father went inside and Abram stood. “How was your day?”

  “Not so good.” She held up her hand. “I even managed to burn my hand.”

  “How bad is it?”

  “Not too bad now. How was your day?”