Rachel's Dream

by Lisa Jones Baker

  “Care to join me?” He glanced at his watch. “I’ve got ten minutes before I have to leave for my next appointment.”

  “I’d love to.”

  As she started to pull the patio chair away from the small table, he took over, and pushed it closer to the table once she was seated. His fingers touched her hand, the light caress sending a warm tingle up her arm.

  Across from her, he removed a cinnamon roll with a white napkin and handed it to her.

  “Thank you.”

  At the same time, they ate. She swallowed and smiled. “How’s your day so far?”

  “Better now that you’re here.”

  He noted how she lowered her gaze to the table and blushed. When she lifted her chin, her eyes hinted at shyness. He barely tasted his pastry as he took in the rosy color of her cheeks, the softness of her voice.

  “Mamma’s talking with a couple of friends from church. She’ll be coming this way.”

  “So what plans do you have for the rest of the day?”

  Her eyes brightened. “It will take a while to finish my chores. After that, I get to help Daddy weed the garden. Daddy’s kind of a jack-of-all-trades. But in his heart, I know he most enjoys growing vegetables and making sure there’s plenty of food on our table.”

  “What’s your favorite chore, Rachel?”

  She finished her roll, swallowed, and ran her napkin over her mouth. “This probably won’t surprise you.”

  “No?”

  “Helping Daddy in the barn.”

  He nodded. “Of course.”

  She sighed. “I like to be with the animals.” She looked away, and when she glanced back at him, her eyes glowed with satisfaction. “They count on me to take care of them. And I know this might sound odd, but, Jarred, they’re family to me.” She paused and added in a gentle, compassionate tone, “I know you understand.”

  He gave a slow nod. And as he did so, he understood more than her love for animals. He knew that Rachel Kauffman had more in common with him than anyone he’d ever met. And he wished he could spend the rest of the afternoon being with her.

  Chapter Four

  In Old Sam’s barn, Rachel swept loose straw into a pile in front of Ginger, who whinnied for attention. Rachel grinned and stopped to stroke the horse’s muzzle.

  Rachel looked behind her and raised her voice to get Old Sam’s attention. “Sam, can she have an apple?”

  He looked up from his work. “I just bought some Red Delicious. Her favorite. Just one, though.”

  While Rachel fed Ginger the apple, his beloved Irish setter tugged at the bottom of Rachel’s navy dress. Rachel looked down and laughed. “I love you, too, Buddy.”

  Then she joined Old Sam on the chair opposite his workbench. “Your family’s spoiled.”

  The corners of his lips lifted, showing deep creases around his mouth. “I didn’t want to disappoint. Esther cared for them like children. I’m not sure I could ever make them as happy as she did, even if I tried. She knit clothes for Buddy to keep him warm in the winter.”

  Old Sam nodded at Rachel. “I hear you’re going to be an aunt again.”

  “Jah!”

  “Congratulations!”

  “Oh, Sam. It’s a blessing. And I don’t know if I can make it through the next several months!” Her gaze landed on the hope chest lid Sam was working on. When she took in the detail, her jaw dropped in awe. “A fisherman?”

  Sam nodded and continued carving what appeared to be a pond. “This one’s for a Florida woman. Her young grandson loves to fish. Some day, he wants to be captain of his own ship and take people on excursions in the Atlantic.”

  Rachel smiled. “How old is the boy?”

  “Only five.”

  Rachel giggled.

  “But he’s no stranger to water. He goes out on a boat every weekend with his dad. His mother’s going to keep his favorite toys in this hope chest.”

  Rachel’s jaw dropped. “Oh, no, Old Sam. It’s too beautiful for that. It’ll get scratched.”

  He smiled in amusement. “The chests are sturdy. I add a thick finish to protect them.”

  He pulled his work close to brush away the chippings. “I haven’t seen you for over a week. How’s Cinnamon? Better, I hope?”

  How Rachel wished she could boast of improvement in her four-legged friend. But she couldn’t. Finally, she offered a helpless shrug.

  “Still running a high fever. He’s so lethargic, Sam. And thin. Doc Zimmerman’s helping to get it down.”

  Sam nodded in recognition. “He must be good at what he does. He and Doc Stevens helped the Mast family get their horse well a couple of years ago.”

  “Jarred was able to get Cinnamon’s temperature down a bit, but there’s still a long way to go. I’ll sleep better when he’s healthy enough to enjoy sugar cubes again.”

  “Jarred?”

  “Dr. Zimmerman, I mean.” She lifted her hands. “He told me to call him Jarred.”

  Old Sam offered a slow, accepting nod.

  Rachel went on to explain her conversation with her father and Jarred’s resolution.

  Sam raised a thoughtful brow. “You know the best weapon, don’t you?”

  “Prayer.”

  Old Sam nodded. “Our Savior is in charge of progress, young one, so your Cinnamon is in good hands. God knows how much you love him. He has our lives all planned out, even your beloved Cinnamon’s.”

  “He’s a part of our family, Sam.”

  “Of course he is. There’s nothing like the bond between you and your horse.”

  The image of the helpless expression in Cinnamon’s eyes pulled at her heartstrings. She wished God would heal Cinnamon faster. The more she saw him suffer, the more difficult it became to watch him in pain.

  “Cheer up, Rachel. Remember the advice I always give you?”

  Rachel stared at him a moment before speaking in a soft voice. “Look at the glass as half-full.”

  “That’s right. And when you consider all of the positives, I’m sure you’ll feel better. I’ve known you your whole life. And you’ve got a fighting spirit. You’ll get through this. Sometimes, the things we pray for don’t happen overnight. So in the meantime, you’ve got to stay upbeat. Besides, you’ve got a new baby coming soon. Your sister will need your help.”

  He paused to work. Rachel turned her attention to the hope chest and could see the art start to take shape. She was sure the incredible detail would make this chest one of Sam’s best pieces.

  “Rachel, I know getting through the sickness of a loved one is difficult. But when my dear Esther was ill, I never allowed myself to imagine that she wouldn’t make it.”

  Rachel crossed her legs at the ankles. “You looked at the glass as half-full.”

  “That’s right. And because of my strong determination to provide her my absolute best, I have no regrets. I can honestly tell you that I gave her everything I had.” He wiped a teary eye. “A positive attitude plays a huge part in the healing process, no matter who or what you are.”

  Rachel pressed her lips together in deep concentration while she digested his words.

  He glanced up a moment. “Rachel, I know a story that will give you strong hope for Cinnamon. Did I ever tell you about Strawberry?”

  The name prompted her to smile. Rachel imagined a reddish-colored animal. As she considered the question, she arched an eyebrow.

  “Did Esther name her?”

  A low chuckle escaped Sam’s throat. “You know us too well. She did, just like she named every other pet we’ve adopted. This little filly was unique in every way, Rachel. When we first took her, never in my imagination did I dream how much we would fall in love with her.

  “But life is full of surprises. And the struggles test us and make us who we are as people. Let me tell you about when Strawberry became ill with a bad strain of flu that was claiming horses ’round here.”

  He pulled the hope chest lid to his face and blew the small chips. Rachel watched them float in the ai
r before landing on the barn floor. Her first instinct was to sweep them into the duster, but that would have to wait, because Sam was telling a story. One she’d never heard.

  A long silence ensued as Sam gathered his thoughts, and Rachel studied the kind face detailed with lines and creases. He’d explained more than once that each crease represented something wonderful in his life. That if God blessed you with old age, your face would reflect significant events that had happened. He claimed that the sad lines on his forehead represented the deaths of his sons and Esther.

  “Esther and I took in the little filly that had been given to us by a family that moved from the area.”

  Rachel scooted closer and leaned forward to not miss a word because nobody related horse-and-buggy stories like Old Sam.

  After studying the piece he worked on, he continued talking while he etched the beautiful wood. “With Strawberry and Esther, it was love at first sight. And you remember how animals stole Esther’s heart.”

  Rachel gave a strong nod. “I’ll never forget when Annie and Levi found that poor little kitten at the creek. Esther let them keep it here in this very barn.”

  “That’s right.” His eyes glistened. When he spoke, his voice vibrated with emotion. “She was an angel to the helpless.”

  Rachel swallowed a painful knot. She knew of another angel to the helpless. Jarred. She wished Esther were still here to keep Old Sam company. And her.

  “Anyway, Strawberry loved Esther’s sponge cakes.”

  Rachel giggled. “Really?”

  “Uh-huh. In fact, she made extras for Strawberry. I must say that as far as I know,” he laughed, “this is the only horse ’round here who was privy to such treats.”

  While Sam talked in slow, thoughtful sentences, Rachel created an image of Sam’s wife conversing with Strawberry while the horse delighted in Esther’s cooking. Already, she wondered what happened. She hoped there was a happy ending.

  “Anyway, one day Esther brought a cake out to the barn for our dear Strawberry and found her lying down. This was unusual during the day.”

  “Just like Cinnamon.”

  Sam nodded and continued. “Anyway, we got a hold of Doc Stevens.” He cleared his throat. “He did everything he could for poor, sick Strawberry.”

  Rachel’s heart skipped a troubled beat.

  “Doc Stevens never gave us hope.” Sam pushed out a sigh. “The prognosis looked grim. The poor thing practically withered away to nothing.”

  Rachel gave a sad shake of her head.

  Sam’s voice shifted to a more urgent tone. “This went on for weeks. Esther and I prayed and prayed for a miracle, because God is good.”

  Rachel nodded in agreement.

  “And He answers prayers. We know that. And in this case, God made a miraculous recovery for our Strawberry.”

  Rachel pushed out a happy breath. “Oh!”

  “One day, Esther came out here early in the morning, as she always did to talk to her horse, and do you know that our Strawberry perked up?”

  “Really?”

  Sam nodded.

  Rachel’s jaw dropped in a reaction that was a combination of shock and happiness. If Strawberry could get well, so could Cinnamon!

  “The doctor couldn’t explain her recovery except that it was a miracle from above.” Sam motioned up with his large, withered hand. “And that was our Good Lord at work.”

  As Rachel digested the happy ending, she said a silent prayer for God to reward Cinnamon for all he’d been through.

  When Sam finished talking, she eyed the pile of sawdust on the floor around his work area. As soon as he stepped away, Rachel took the broom to the area. A satisfied feeling went through her as she swept the woodsy-smelling chippings into the dustpan.

  When Sam returned, he grinned. “That’s my girl.” A chuckle escaped his throat. “I’ve never known anyone as tidy as you.”

  “I’m not sure if it’s good or bad. All I know is that cleaning is like brushing my teeth,” she said. “I have to do it.”

  “I would say that’s a plus. And I have no doubt that when you’re a wife and mother, you’ll keep the cleanest house around here.”

  She smiled a little and contemplated his statement. When she was a wife, there would be a spouse. She looked away to imagine who it would be.

  While she allowed her mind to dream, there were two requirements that couldn’t be negotiated in a husband. First, the man had to be Amish. And of equal importance, he had to love animals as much as she did.

  *

  A few days later, Rachel anxiously drummed her fingers against her thighs and listened for the quiet purring of Jarred’s truck. Chickens clucked. A goat meandered past the horse stalls. The warm, damp morning breeze floated in through the open barn doors.

  She leaned against Cinnamon and caressed him with the most soothing words she could think of. To her dismay, there was no reaction. Not even a whinny.

  He’s not improving. Closing her eyes, she breathed in and concentrated on Old Sam’s constant advice. “Look at the glass as half-full. Remember Strawberry. And Ginger. God rewards the faithful.”

  Rachel opened her eyes and smiled a little. On the upside, Cinnamon isn’t worse. She continued to caress her friend’s ears. When he opened his large, sad eyes, Rachel sighed in relief and continued to encourage her horse to eat. It didn’t work. However, she had stronger weapons. Prayers. Faith.

  She looked up and offered a desperate plea. “Please, God. Let him live. Show me a sign that he’ll make it. I’m so worried. Amen.”

  Rachel scooped dirty straw with the large pitchfork and placed the manure in the nearby spreader. Most girls didn’t like barn chores, but Rachel did. She loved being around animals.

  And Hannah’s new baby was around the corner! Rachel drew in an excited breath as she contemplated possible names. Mary … Jacob … William … Lydia …

  The sound of tires meeting gravel made her jump to her feet. She offered Cinnamon an encouraging pat. “Our angel’s here, boy. Have faith!”

  A few moments later, Jarred entered the barn. Rachel gave a large wave of her hand as she stepped closer.

  “Hey, there. How’s our boy doing?”

  Rachel’s heart warmed at his words. Every moment he spent here, he seemed to grow closer to her and to her horse. At the same time, she became fonder of the young doctor.

  “You’ve got to step it up, Cinnamon.”

  To Rachel’s surprise, Cinnamon threw his head back.

  She looked at Jarred, and they laughed at the same time. “The glass is half-full!”

  “And prayers work!” Jarred unzipped his bag and spoke under his breath. “If we’re gonna get you well, boy, we’d better get down to business!”

  Excitement edged Rachel’s voice. “What can I do?”

  “Let me check him out. Then you can help.”

  “Got it.”

  After he completed the preliminaries, they worked together to connect the hose to cool him off and remove excess moisture from his back. To their astonishment, Cinnamon reacted by giving a strong shake.

  Rachel laughed as cold drops hit her. Automatically, she ran her hands over her face to rid it of the moisture.

  “Now we’re talking!” Jarred continued treating the large body with water and talked as he did so. “I knew you needed this cold bath. It’s making you feel a whole lot better.”

  He patted Cinnamon’s neck. “Hey, how’s your sister doing? The one who’s expecting.”

  “Hannah?” Rachel caught Jarred’s grin from the opposite side of the animal. “She’s been really sick in the mornings, but I know from my other sisters that having a baby isn’t easy.” She laughed. “Easy for me to say, right?”

  He grinned. “I suppose.”

  As they laughed, she recalled how he’d comforted her and lowered her voice. “Jarred, I’m sorry to have lost faith the other day. I don’t know how it happened, really. You made me feel so much … better. Thank you.”

  “R
achel, I’m glad I helped.” He shrugged before meeting her gaze. “Watching you sad … it hurt.”

  Color warmed her cheeks. “I’m grateful for the comfort. When I thought of losing Cinnamon, I panicked.”

  He smiled a little. “It’s okay. Life happens. If we were all perfect, we wouldn’t need God.” He went to shut off the water. When he walked back toward her, the expression in his eyes switched. It amazed her how quickly amusement replaced mystery in his deep depths.

  “Not only that, but …”

  “What?”

  He toweled Cinnamon. At the same time, Rachel pulled a cloth from the pile of old rags and wiped him down on the opposite side.

  When he didn’t respond, she pressed him. “You were saying …”

  She stopped to look at him, and to her surprise, he blushed. He waved a dismissive hand and continued his work. The pinkish color in his face made his jet-black hair look even darker.

  “What I was about to say is that you seem pretty perfect to me,” he said in a tone that hinted at shyness.

  Rachel’s heart skipped a beat. Jarred had just paid her a compliment she was sure she didn’t deserve, but the affectionate, shy way the words came out indicated he was fond of her.

  She tried to look at his statement objectively and decided a correction was a must. “Jarred, we Amish view humility as a strong point. You must know I could never even begin to think of myself as perfect.”

  As he tossed the wet towel aside, he winked. “And that’s another thing I like about you. You’re modest.”

  Her cheeks grew so hot that they must be a boiling temperature. She wasn’t sure that it was proper to have this conversation with a single man. At the same time, she certainly wouldn’t hold his words against him. They came out with such sincerity and kindness, she could never question his intentions. She could barely move the towel across Cinnamon’s body as she digested what he’d said.

  His smile widened. “Rachel, I’m sorry if I offended you. That’s the last thing I wanted to do. I’m fully aware that the Amish practice humility. But for some reason, it’s important to me that you know just how special you are.”