When her father pointed to the chair, she sat back down. She never disobeyed or talked back, but she couldn’t bear the thought of losing her horse.
“Your mother and I have been talking, honey. We agree that it’s best to put Cinnamon down.”
*
Only one person could help Rachel, and that was Dr. Zimmerman. The next morning, the soft purring of an engine made her stop what she was doing and bound outside to greet her new friend.
She offered a big, desperate wave as he parked in their drive. She ran toward his truck, hiking her dress as she did so to avoid tripping. She watched him remove his sunglasses and lay them between his cloth seats before slamming the door shut.
Rachel and Jarred stepped quickly to the barn.
“Is everything okay?”
At first, her response was silence. As soon as they were inside the barn, she teared up. “Doctor, something really bad’s about to happen.” She threw her hands in the air.
Her sentences ran together as she poured out the details of the conversation she’d had with her dad. Then she pushed out a sigh and locked gazes with the veterinarian. “Can you help me? Please?”
Chapter Three
Jarred listened to Rachel’s devastating words that came out of her mouth so quickly, they ran together. He blinked at the sun coming in through the large barn windows. As hard as he tried, Jarred couldn’t control the helpless frustration in his chest as the girl sobbed uncontrollably into her palms.
He knew better than anyone what it was like to lose a being dear to one’s heart. He faced it each day. Of course, every patient didn’t survive. Saving every animal and each human—that would be impossible.
But he took this crisis more personally because of his longtime bond with Cinnamon and because of the extreme, rare love between girl and horse. You’ve got to help her.
He yearned to console her. At the same time, he was fully aware that it was improper to touch an Amish girl. Despite his knowledge, he embraced her in a tight hug.
Her tears flowed while he gently patted her back. “It’ll be okay, Rachel. Please, don’t cry. Instead, let’s talk about what to do.”
Too conscious of the softness in his heart, he released her and apologized if he had offended her.
She wiped at her eyes while composing herself. “No. I’m sorry. This is my fault. There’s nothing to apologize for, Doctor. What you said … about talking about what to do …” She sniffed and lifted her chin with sudden hope. “But we can do something, jah?”
He offered a firm nod and a swift wave toward two bales. They sat down on the straw, and he turned toward her. In a serious voice, he started. “Rachel, I want Cinnamon to recover every bit as much as you do.”
He paused to consider the right words. “At the same time, I understand where your dad’s coming from.”
Her eyes widened with shock.
He raised his hand. “Hear me out. If you’re a math person who looks at things in black and white, you’d probably focus on all of the horses taken by the virus. And I’m sure your father wants to spare Cinnamon pain. But if you’re optimistic, as you are, you would focus on the chance that your horse would survive.”
“What do you think, Dr. Zimmerman?”
He frowned. The words seemed so formal. “Call me Jarred.”
He noted the surprise that registered in her eyes while he considered her question. “I truly believe with all of my heart that Cinnamon will rebound. I don’t really have evidence to support that; it’s a feeling inside me.”
He shrugged. “Unfortunately, recovery isn’t a short journey. And I’ve met plenty of others who just won’t stick it out.” He shook his head. “Life is a miracle, Rachel. I understand people who want to end misery. And I agree, in some cases. Pain is evil. But life is precious. And if Cinnamon rebounds, and there’s a chance, he’s got a lot of living ahead of him. Sugar cubes, for instance. Not to mention that right now, he’s in his prime.”
He winked.
She smiled. “I don’t want Cinnamon to hurt, Jarred.”
The sound of his name from her mouth stirred something warm and wonderful within him. He wasn’t sure what it was.
She choked. “But I just know he’ll recover. Can’t we give him more time?”
“Tell you what, Rachel. I’ll talk to your dad. And if he’ll allow me, when he’s ready to throw in the towel, I’ll take our sick guy to my place and care for him.”
The expression in her eyes, a combination of surprise and extreme gratefulness, prompted a grin. Her reaction sparked something else that he didn’t recognize, but whatever it was it made him feel good inside.
He softened his voice to make sure she understood that it would be okay. “Cinnamon will have every opportunity to get well if your dad will agree.”
*
A short time later, Rachel swept two horse stalls while Jarred made a trip to his truck for medicine. Jarred asked me to call him by his first name. She closed her eyes in happiness and savored his words. It felt so good to say his first name.
Her dad’s voice made her look up. “Your horse ain’t improving.” Several feet away, he cleaned his farm tools. She could hear the light whistle of metal scraping metal.
“Daddy, he’s not just mine. He belongs to all of us. He’s part of our family.” She heaved out a frustrated moan. “He’s worked so hard for us over the years. Don’t forget when he’s taken us to church in the freezing cold and on the hottest days in the summer.”
“Honey, other horses can do that work.”
The statement prompted the corners of her lips to turn down into a sad frown. She wouldn’t argue with Daddy. That would be disrespectful. But she wished he would appreciate what Cinnamon had done for them. Why did most people see animals just as a means to get things done? Their hearts needed nurturing, just like humans’.
She realized he was awaiting a reply. “I’m really worried about him.”
As usual, Daddy’s voice was unbending. “I’ve already replaced him with a healthy filly.”
“I know, Daddy.” Rachel’s heart sank. Have faith. Look at the glass as half-full. “But no horse can or ever will replace Cinnamon.”
“Honey, I know you love him, but that bad virus goin’ round is fatal. It’s not right to make him suffer.”
She bit her tongue.
He continued cleaning his tools. She was very much like her daddy and so much unlike him. They were both unusually tidy. She kept the house free of dust. And his farm equipment must have been cleaner than anyone’s around.
At the same time, she searched for the positive, and her daddy leaned more toward the pessimistic side. She’d even talked to Old Sam about it, but Old Sam had merely grinned and said that her father was too old to change.
“It’s takin’ a lot of good animals from us.” Her dad paused. When he resumed his talk, he squinted as if what he said was agonizing. “I just don’t want you to get your hopes up, honey. If he rebounds, it’ll be a miracle.”
Rachel lifted her chin. “Then it’ll be a miracle.”
At that moment, Rachel sighed in relief when Jarred walked through the doors. She spoke with hopeful conviction. “Dr. Zimmerman’s gonna get Cinnamon well, Daddy. I just know it! Remember how Old Sam’s Ginger recovered?”
“I’m doing the best I can to help your horse.” Before Rachel’s dad could respond, the doctor went on. “I understand why you don’t like the horse suffering. Neither do I. But I’m hoping that he’ll recover. Please give us more time, Mr. Kauffman. And when that window of opportunity expires on your end, I’d like permission to take Cinnamon to my place.”
The expression on Rachel’s father’s face was of the utmost shock. Of course, he didn’t understand Jarred’s love or hers for the struggling animal. But he didn’t have to. As long as Cinnamon got well.
Finally, Daddy offered a slow, thoughtful nod. “Let me think on it.”
“I appreciate that, Mr. Kauffman. In the meantime, I’ll give him meds to ease the pain.”
Rachel glanced at Jarred before focusing her attention on her dad. She thought Daddy would give Jarred’s offer serious consideration. She hoped so, anyway. She would pray that God would speak to her father.
*
As Jarred watched Rachel in his rearview mirror, he took a swig of soda and placed the can in the cup holder between the cloth bucket seats. He’d made his case for more recovery time. He checked his watch and accelerated before flipping on the cruise control.
As usual, he was running behind. He drove with his right hand on the wheel and his left forearm propped comfortably on the open window. When the bright sun reappeared behind a large, fluffy cloud, he pulled down his visor and slipped on his sunglasses.
He enjoyed the open countryside, trying to relax while he passed corn and bean fields. The scene should have provided some sort of comfort. But inside, he shook with uncertainty. He couldn’t take seeing Rachel so sad. And he’d asked her to call him by his first name. Why?
It just felt right.
Without taking his eyes from the road, he opened the compartment to the right of his seat, stuck his hand inside a plastic bag, and quickly retrieved a cinnamon candy. He removed the plastic wrapper, tossed it onto the floor of the passenger seat, and popped the red ball into his mouth.
For most of his life, he’d attended the Mennonite church with Carolyn and Henry Zimmerman, who’d officially changed Jarred’s last name to match theirs. Yet his Methodist start had a permanent spot in his heart. Sometimes, he wasn’t sure if he really felt part of either.
Even though he currently attended the Methodist church closest to home, he was most impressed by the Amish. Something about them and their modest lifestyle comforted his soul. A soothing sensation caressed his shoulders. He’d never felt like an outsider around the Plain Faith. Through his work, Jarred had come into contact with plenty of them, and he’d never met an unkind one. The Amish called on vets frequently, as their livelihood depended on animals.
He couldn’t blame Mr. Kauffman for his thoughts about Cinnamon. While he drove, he relaxed and breathed in the fresh air. No chaos. No noise. And no stress.
He braked at a T-intersection and looked around the corn, moving closer to the side of the road when another pickup met his. Automatically, he waved. The driver returned the gesture. After they passed, Jarred reclaimed the middle of the blacktop, where the road was slightly higher. He gave careful thought to Rachel’s plea and to his solution.
He understood so well why she didn’t want to say good-bye to Cinnamon, especially if there was a chance for a rebound. But Jarred never made predictions. Only God knew who would and wouldn’t make it. In his heart, Jarred sensed that her horse would survive because he’d asked God for that special favor. So had Rachel. There was strength in prayers.
He didn’t want to watch Rachel say farewell to her horse. He’d never forget the day he’d waved good-bye to his parents and moved in with Carolyn and Henry. An ache pinched his chest, and he frowned. That night, when he’d prayed, he’d begged God to protect him.
Jarred had only been four. But even at such a young age, he’d understood with great clarity that he belonged to the Creator of the universe. Not to his parents. Not to Carolyn and Henry. What mattered was that he pleased God, and he did that by healing the most vulnerable of the Lord’s creations.
Jarred drummed his fingers on the steering wheel while that ugly day floated back into his mind like an unexpected storm. Before that, he’d believed that his parents loved him. He couldn’t bear to think that they didn’t.
A bead of sweat slipped down his forehead. As he wiped it away, he repeated his order to himself, the commitment he’d made years ago: Don’t go there. You don’t have to. It’s over.
He coughed at the tightness of emotion in his throat, and to his surprise, recalled Rachel’s words of optimism. Look at the glass as half-full. The uncomfortable quickness of his pulse slowed as he forced himself to see only positive things.
Matt had loved him. Every time Jarred thought of his older brother, he became more determined to start a shelter in Matt’s name. His beloved sibling had been the ultimate animal lover, and Jarred awakened each morning of his life with that purpose in mind.
Salty tears stung his eyes. He blinked. My Savior loves me, but there’s no way to ever bring my brother back. Or to make my parents love me.
Look at the glass as half-full. When Rachel’s face popped into his mind, his heart lightened. The girl was unusually wise for her young age. He wasn’t sure but guessed she must be in her late teens. She stirred an emotion inside him that he’d never experienced. How he felt when he was around her … It was new to him.
She looked at the positive in everything. Of course, her life obviously differed from his in a huge way. He was certain she didn’t have the mental baggage that he carried inside. On the contrary, he supposed she had a protective, loving family. He imagined the biggest drama that ever happened in their household. A pot roast overcooking? The thought forced a laugh.
To his relief, the more he thought of her, the more the ache between his shoulders eased. There was something so comforting and familiar about her, he could be himself around her. When they talked, he felt a welcome sense of belonging.
As he made his final turn, he acknowledged the great benefit to spending time with Rachel. The peaceful countryside helped him, too. Perhaps he was at ease in this landscape because he’d been raised on a large ranch. Maybe his comfort zone was away from crowds because he didn’t feel the need to please anyone other than those who needed him.
Whatever the case, he knew his calling. Regardless of his past, God had given him a mission. He’d known it since Matt’s death, and this time, Jarred wouldn’t let his Savior down.
He’d never wanted an animal to recover as much as he yearned for Rachel’s horse to. Matt would want it, too. And a large part of Jarred’s determination to heal the horse had to do with its beautiful, kind owner.
That realization made him breathe in. He flipped the radio to the country music channel and drummed his fingers against the wheel to the beat. While Wynonna’s big voice boomed through his small cabin, he considered what had happened today in the Kauffman barn.
He’d comforted a lovely girl who was frightened to death of losing her gelding. But that wasn’t what had impacted him the most. He understood his incredible longing to take away her pain. His strong need to rescue her from sadness was logical.
What he didn’t comprehend was what had gone on inside him while he’d comforted her, when he’d wrapped his arms around her to make her feel better. What disturbed him most was that he wasn’t sure what he’d felt.
He contemplated the way his heart had picked up speed. His strong mission to help her. When she smiled, something wonderful had happened to him. He loved her soft voice. Her energy. Her determination. He finally acknowledged to himself that he was romantically interested in Rachel.
*
That evening, Rachel wrote on the lined pages of her journal. She breathed in the pleasant apple scent from her candle and sighed with satisfaction.
I can’t wait for Hannah’s baby to come! I wonder if it will be a girl or a boy? I don’t care, as long as it’s healthy. I’m so glad I have that to look forward to.
Then her thoughts turned from Hannah’s happy news to Cinnamon’s poor health.
Today, I confided in Jarred. I wonder if I should have confessed my grave concern. Mamma always tells me to keep my private thoughts to myself. But I’m more worried about my horse’s fate than ever.
I’m disappointed that my parents regard Cinnamon as merely a means to pull the buggy. That they don’t try harder to believe in miracles. How can they not love and care about him like I do?
She stopped a moment to close her eyes. A wrenching pain pulled at her insides until she opened her eyes and decided to deal with the disappointing situation on paper. If she could visualize her penned thoughts, perhaps she could better accept her mom and dad’s view on C
innamon.
Nervous energy made her stand, grab the nearby feather duster, and run it over the headboard before continuing to the windowsill. When she reclaimed her seat, she laid the duster on the headboard. Taking a deep, satisfied breath, she reached for her pen and continued her thoughts.
To my surprise, I found it easier to relate my dilemma to Jarred than I ever dreamed. He makes me so at ease. And when I watched his eyes, I could tell he mirrored my own sentiments. I know he absorbed every single detail.
Rachel rolled her shoulders to rid the kinks. She crossed her legs at the knees and continued her train of thought.
There was a moment today. It was after I poured out my heart to Jarred. Our gazes locked. The expression in his eyes left me breathless. They’re deep, mysterious, and something else. I don’t have the word yet.
I’ve never encountered such a look. And it affected me in ways I’m not sure are proper. My feelings … it was as if Cinnamon connected us in a way that will bond us forever. I’ve no doubt that Jarred loves my horse as much as I do.
But it’s not simply because he’s an animal lover. He was even there for Cinnamon’s birth. Jarred helped to deliver my horse and prayed for his recovery when it was predicted he wouldn’t live. Cinnamon’s a survivor. He overcame obstacles once. He’ll do it again. But he needs time. That I’m sure of.
What I’m not certain of is my reaction to Jarred in the barn this afternoon.
She paused to recall every detail of his expression. His voice. His physical reaction to what she’d told him.
Even now, alone in her room, thinking about him caused her heart to beat at an unusually fast pace. But she wasn’t sure why it was uncomfortable, too.
My heart sprinted. My cheeks flushed. My lungs had to pump harder than usual, and I felt out of breath. I wasn’t in control of my own emotions. Am I falling in love with Jarred Zimmerman?
The following morning, Jarred glimpsed Rachel as he stepped out of King’s Bakery. As she came his way, he offered a big wave. “Hello!”
While the sun slipped under a large, fluffy cloud, they locked gazes from a distance. She returned the greeting and quickened her pace. When they were face-to-face, he motioned to the paper bag he held in his other hand.
Rachel's Dream Page 4
