Chapter Six
The first weekend in July was almost here, and Rachel did a happy rock on her toes on the kitchen floor as she continued her chores.
Cinnamon’s temperature was down. He had also drawn up water from his trough. Rachel smiled while she went through Mamma’s list and checked off the chores she’d finished.
Mopping the kitchen floor was next. She much preferred dusting to the other things on the list but fully recognized that there was a lot to do in a four-bedroom house, so she couldn’t pick and choose.
Rachel added hot water to the oversized cleaning bucket, and a renewed energy swept through her as she breathed in the fresh scent of Mr. Clean. White bubbles floated on top of the sudsy water. She flexed her fingers in front of her and considered Strawberry’s miraculous recovery. Sam’s story had boosted her hope that Cinnamon would recover. And when that day came, Rachel would give extra praise and thanks to God.
At the same time, her last words to Jarred continued playing in her mind. She stopped to put her hand on her hip and tapped the front of her black shoe against the tiles.
Was I too tough on him? Or was what I told him right on? I didn’t intend to be rude or intrusive.
How can I help you if you won’t let me?
She wondered if she’d been too direct as she stepped onto her tiptoes and reached into the top cabinet for the feather duster. Rachel couldn’t resist swishing it over the windowsill. Mamma often commented that her feather duster was like a weapon in her hand. That dust didn’t have a chance when Rachel came in contact with it. The thought prompted a giggle.
“What’s so funny?”
An inquisitive voice broke Rachel’s thoughts. She turned as Mamma stepped inside.
“That you call my feather duster a weapon.”
The door clicked into place, and Mamma sighed and ran her fingers over her forehead. “My, it’s hot out there. I’m glad your father replaced the battery in the kitchen fan.”
Rachel watched as her mom bent for the air to caress her face. A few moments later, she stepped to the bathroom sink. Rachel heard running water and knew her mom was washing her hands.
“Those tomatoes are growing like weeds. There must be at least thirty or forty ready for picking.”
“I’ll get to them after the chores,” Rachel responded, loud enough for her mother to hear down the hall.
When her mom returned, Rachel caressed the banister with the duster. As she stepped up the stairs, she whistled.
Mamma looked up. “You’re awfully happy today.”
Rachel continued running her duster between the rails. “I have every reason to be. Cinnamon’s getting better.” But that wasn’t the only reason for her bliss. Jarred was on her mind, and she couldn’t stop thinking about him.
*
That evening, Jarred organized paperwork on his small kitchen table. He’d paid eleven visits during the day. He frowned as he regarded the stacks in front of him. Eventually, he would hire someone to do the desk stuff. But until he caught up on his school loan, that wasn’t an option.
The microwave above the sink beeped, interrupting his thoughts. He laid down his pen, got up to remove the salmon he’d thawed, tossed the deep orange fish into cookware, added olive oil, and placed it inside the preheated oven.
He returned to his duties. But as he used his calculator to tally up expenses, he mentally drifted away. Unable to focus on his work, Jarred shoved his hands into his pockets and meandered toward the barn, stopping to admire what was in front of him. He relaxed and smiled a little, breathing in the familiar scent of hay.
He’d bought the house after his recent graduation from veterinary school. It needed work, and the barn could use new paint, too, but what mattered was the open land in front of him. Tom had once commented that you could always add to a house. But you could never move land.
Jarred’s heart warmed while he remembered his mentor. Jarred wished the kind doctor could see this place. He drummed his fingers on the wooden post and glimpsed the large barn, imagining the day the stalls would be filled.
Jarred made his way around the wire fence that encompassed the alfalfa pasture. As he walked, he took in the country smells and closed his eyes in delight. He’d always dreamed of having a place like this. He opened his eyes, making mental plans. He’d eventually fill the barn with animals that needed homes. The house, too. Maybe the stray cat would eventually be tame enough to keep him company inside.
He laid his hand on a wooden post and looked out at the sunset. Rachel’s last words before he’d left the Kauffmans’ came to mind: “How can I help you if you won’t let me?”
While he pondered the astute words, he regarded in awe the melting colors in the western sky and pushed out a sigh of astonishment. If God could create a sunset, surely He could resolve what disturbed Jarred more than anything in the world—his past.
Looking down, he stepped over a dip in the earth and caught his balance. The crickets and cicadas made a continuous humming sound.
Jarred acknowledged that what Rachel had said was true. She couldn’t help him if she wasn’t privy to what bothered him. No argument. Without thinking, he picked an alfalfa blade and chewed on it while he stepped around the property.
The beauty in front of him helped to ease his pain, but what he’d done was permanent. It couldn’t be reversed. So in a sense, if he related the devastating truth to Rachel, his confession wouldn’t benefit him in any way, because even the best advice in the world couldn’t change the past. And there was no good way to deal with it.
A warm, gentle breeze caressed his face while he meandered back toward the house. As the sun dimmed, he slowed his pace. A mixture of gentle sounds hummed through the air. Mosquitoes. Two rabbits rustled in the butterprint. Lightning bugs disappeared as quickly as they appeared.
As he approached his patio, the tomcat drank from the water bowl. “Hey, pal. I’m glad to see you’re finally putting on some weight.”
With a slow, cautious motion, Jarred bent to pet the stray, but the moment his hand touched the animal, it darted away. Still, Jarred smiled in satisfaction because he had made progress with his new friend.
Another four-legged being entered his mind. Cinnamon. Jarred rested his hand on the door handle. The horse showed improvement. Jarred opened the back door.
Inside, the delicious aroma of baked salmon filled the room. When he opened the oven, his stomach growled. The wall clock revealed it had been eight hours since he’d eaten. He looked forward to tomorrow. He would see his favorite patient. He paused and smiled. And his favorite person.
*
The following morning, Rachel waved from the living room window as Jarred pulled into their drive. She made her way to the side door that they used to enter and exit the house.
“Hello!”
As he got out of his truck, she stepped quickly to greet him.
Jarred’s voice was upbeat. “How is he?”
Rachel walked alongside him as they made their way to the barn. There was no question about who “he” was.
She gave a hesitant shrug. “The same. That’s good, jah?”
He turned to offer her a smile. “Yup.”
Rachel sighed in relief. “Gut. The meds you’ve been giving him are working, Jarred.”
Jarred did his routine check while Rachel talked to Cinnamon. “When you’re better, you can have as many sugar cubes as you want. Promise. How’s that sound?”
As she looked into Cinnamon’s large, hopeful eyes, she kissed him and turned to Jarred. “I can’t tell you enough how grateful I am to you, Jarred.”
He smiled. “I’m happy for the improvement.” He lifted an eyebrow. “But remember the race scenario?”
She nodded.
“The finish line isn’t close.” Jarred eyed the stall and turned to Rachel. “Let’s get some fresh straw in here.” He looked up to the second floor where her father stored the bales.
“Daddy’s in the field today.”
�
�That’s okay.” He checked his watch and nodded. “I’ve only got three more appointments. So I’ve got time.”
Holding the base to steady the tall ladder, she watched as he climbed up to the loft. As he made his way up, the steps creaked.
When he reached the top, she hollered, “Don’t carry them down. Daddy drops them over the side. I’ll take it from there.”
When he pointed to an area close to her shoes, she stepped out of the way and watched as he pushed a bale from the loft. As soon as the bedding was near Cinnamon’s stall, he climbed down to join her. Sweat gleamed on his face and neck.
She went toward the water bin. “It must be terribly hot up there.” She handed him a bottle. “Here.”
“Thanks.” He took it, removed the lid, and took a couple of swigs. “You mind if we step outside a minute to catch the breeze?”
“Of course not.” She sat down next to him on the bench to the side of the barn. “The temp’s supposed to be in the nineties today.”
He nodded.
“Daddy said it would be the hottest day of the year. It must be hard.” She crossed her legs. “I mean, working in stuffy barns all day.”
He smiled and downed more water, blowing out a deep breath as the breeze lifted his hair. “It’s all right. I’m following my heart.”
She sat up straighter. “To heal animals?”
He shrugged. “Sort of. It’s actually more than that.” He lowered his voice to a serious tone. “Like I told you, my ultimate goal is to start a shelter to protect lost or rejected animals. For my brother.”
“What a nice dream, Jarred.”
“I want it named after him.” Jarred hesitated. “He died on my birthday.”
Chapter Seven
The moment Jarred uttered the truth, he regretted it. He watched Rachel’s eyes double in size. A long, tense silence ensued while Jarred absorbed the surprised expression on her face. He’d never shared his past with anyone, not even Tom, but for some reason, he couldn’t drop the subject.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said, Rachel. That you can’t help me if I don’t tell you what bothers me.”
He sighed and stretched his legs, fully aware that she was waiting for him to go on.
He respected Rachel as a friend. It’s more than that. I really like her.
His pain was so deep, he couldn’t contain it inside any longer. As he contemplated his agony, his appointments didn’t matter. Jarred’s palms started to sweat. He breathed in and closed his eyes, fighting the heart-wrenching truth that had changed his life at four years of age.
“Jarred?”
The soft voice pulled him back to reality. “Rachel, I’ve never trusted anyone like I trust you. I’ve never shared my past, but I’m going to ask you to listen and hopefully, you can tell me something to help me deal with it.” He paused. To his dismay, his knees shook.
“Jarred, what happened at your birthday party?”
Salty tears stung his eyes.
“It was the best day of my life. And the worst.”
Trying to gather strength, he shared everything he could remember about the day. “We ate cake and ice cream. I opened gifts.” He smiled sadly. “I used to collect little race cars. I got some of those, and my folks gave me a Hot Wheels track. After that, we played outside. It was a bright, sunny day. July fifteenth. We started kicking the ball around.”
Jarred closed his eyes and paused. He wished he could stop the devastating pounding of his heart. “Our backyard was large. The front was small.”
He stopped to consider his words. “As usual, my parents had warned us to stay in the back, and we did, but somehow, the ball ended up on the street in front of the house.”
He pressed his lips in a tight line before continuing. “While the rest of us played around, Matt rushed to get the ball.”
Jarred’s heart nearly stopped as the nightmare unfolded in his mind. He lowered his chin and clenched his palms together in his lap. “Next thing I knew, my mom was sobbing uncontrollably as my dad went with Matt in an ambulance.”
He locked gazes with Rachel, but he didn’t see her. His head pounded with such fierce intensity, he pressed his palms against his temples and caught an emotional breath.
“Later, I found out that a driver had run the stop sign in front of our house at the moment Matt was in the road.”
Rachel’s expression reflected dismay. “Oh, no.”
Jarred watched Rachel cover her eyes as if she were trying to block out the ugly scene. His arms tingled and began to go numb as he related the rest of the story.
“Later that night, Matt went to the Lord.” When Jarred turned toward Rachel, tears slipped down her cheeks. The horrified expression on her face was something he’d never forget.
“My brother’s gone, Rachel. Shortly thereafter, my parents sent me away. They must have blamed his death on me.”
*
Rachel’s jaw dropped in shock. At a loss for words, she digested Jarred’s heartbreaking story. Don’t be down. Look at the glass as half-full.
Now she fully understood the haunted expression in his eyes. She knew why he didn’t feel deserving of love. A pain stabbed at Rachel’s chest until she pulled her arms over her midsection to warm herself.
She had to respond. He’d trusted her enough to confide in her, and he expected a response. I can’t let him down. I have to talk. But what do I say?
He threw his hands in the air. “I’m sorry to hit you with this. I should have kept it to myself. The last thing I want is to burden you.”
She gave a sad shake of her head. “No, no. There’s nothing to apologize for. And you’re not burdening me. Not at all. It’s just that … you took me by surprise.”
Some moments later, she went on. “Jarred, I’m so deeply sorry. I had no idea you’d been through so much. I can’t imagine. I’m not sure this will do any good, but first of all, you’ve got to recognize that this isn’t your fault. Not at all. You do know that, right?”
His pupils widened in surprise. “But if it wasn’t for my birthday party …”
“Oh, Jarred.” She paused and struggled for the right words. “I’m short on experience with things like this, but something my mother used to say sticks in my mind. She used to tell us kids that a mamma’s responsible for her children.”
She took in the quick, thoughtful lift of his brow while she studied his face. “Mamma’s always right about things like this. Jarred, you were only four. And if your house was that close to the road, there should have been a fence, right? So something like this wouldn’t happen. Maybe there should have been more adults supervising the party?”
She shrugged. “I’m in no way placing blame on anyone because I wasn’t there. Besides, things happen in life that aren’t anticipated.”
A long, thoughtful silence ensued before she continued. “I remember when I was young, Jarred. Of course, we lived in the country, so we didn’t have to worry about wandering out onto a busy street. And it certainly wasn’t your brother’s fault for chasing the ball. After all, he was only seven.”
She pressed her finger to her lips for a moment. Then she said, “I thought of something. Okay. Before Daddy built the new barn, I remember my mom telling me to close the henhouse door when I finished collecting eggs.” Rachel shrugged. “I said I would. But I forgot, and the chickens got out. Of course, kids sometimes forget what they’re told. And you certainly can’t be blamed for what happened because it was your birthday party.”
“But that was a harmless mistake, Rachel, because no one got hurt. Yeah, mine was an innocent mistake, like what you did. It’s just that, unfortunately, the circumstances were different, and because of me, something horrible happened.”
“Jarred, four-year-olds can’t be accountable for things. And neither can seven-year-olds! Parents are supposed to protect their kids. It’s the child who asks the adult for permission. You never see a daddy asking his little one for something, right? There’s no way that what happened to your
brother was your fault. How could your parents blame you for that?”
“I get your point, but I don’t think my mom and dad deserve the blame, either. It all happened so fast. It was just hard when I got sent away. I missed them so much.”
I have to help him. What else can I say to convince him he’s not at fault? What words will ease his guilt?
Focusing on answers, Rachel thought of Old Sam. He was the wisest person she knew. But she’d promised Jarred to keep his story confidential. And she intended to do that. They regarded each other in silence.
As she gazed into his tormented eyes, her heartstrings pulled at her with a strength that was difficult to fight. She ordered herself not to cry. “Jarred, I’ll pray about your situation.”
“Thank you, Rachel.”
Jarred stood and smiled a little. As Rachel looked at him, she wondered if Cinnamon had been God’s way of connecting her to Jarred to help him.
“Jarred, you’ve been Cinnamon’s angel. What you‘re doing for him, and for me … I can’t thank you enough.” As she spoke the words, she realized that when Cinnamon got well, there would no longer be a reason for Jarred to come over.
That sudden acknowledgment hit her with such a strong emotional ferocity, she wasn’t sure what to say. I will miss him. I have grown accustomed to his soft, kind voice. And I feel such a bond with Jarred, like I’ve never had with anyone. What will I do without him?
As if sensing her thoughts, Jarred stepped closer. “Rachel, thanks for lending me your ear. There can never be a happy ending for what happened to me. But I want you to know something. Even when Cinnamon’s well, I still want to keep in touch.”
His statement prompted a sudden relief. “Of course.”
As Jarred stepped out of the barn, Rachel yearned for him to stay. To tell him everything she was feeling. So many emotions flitted inside her heart—frustration, compassion, gratefulness, sadness, and others she didn’t recognize—as he stepped into his truck and started the engine. He wanted to keep in touch. The words came as a relief because she never wanted to be without him.
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