Rachel's Dream

by Lisa Jones Baker

  The popping sound of ajar sealing stopped her thoughts a moment, and she moved that quart to the box of sealed jars.

  “Mamma, it’s a good year for produce.”

  “Jah. There’ll be plenty of veggies to sell on the roadside.”

  The comment drew a frown. “Let’s keep plenty for ourselves.”

  Mamma laughed and blew a loose hair that landed in the middle of her nose. “You sure do love tomatoes. Don’t worry, we’ll can extra so we won’t run out.”

  “Last year, we ran short, and there’s nothing like chili and vegetable soup in the winter.”

  Mamma softened the pitch of her voice. “That’s a nice young man, Rachel.”

  “Jarred?”

  She nodded. “I’m sure you understand why your father and I want him to join our church before you date.”

  “Of course.” Rachel closed her eyes and drew in a happy sigh. “I care about him so much, Mamma. I just love talking to him.”

  “Cinnamon’s story is nothing less than a miracle. I suppose Jarred will bring him back now that he’s well.”

  Rachel paused to consider the statement. “Mamma, you once told me that if you truly love someone, you’d be willing to give up what you love most to make them happy.”

  Mamma eyed her with an odd combination of dismay and curiosity.

  Rachel carefully wiped excess juice off the clear canning jar and gave a small lift of her shoulders. “I have the utmost respect for Jarred. And he loves Cinnamon. In fact, he helped bring him into the world.”

  Rachel paused. “I watch the two of them together, and I can’t imagine separating them.”

  “But you and Cinnamon are so close.”

  Rachel nodded. “Jah. But he’s alive because of Jarred.”

  *

  In the garden the following morning, Rachel considered her dream and smiled. Her heart fluttered with happiness. She still wasn’t sure if what she felt for Jarred was true love. When would she know?

  As she glanced at the tomatoes to be picked, she blew out a deep, happy breath. “Thank you Lord, for everything.”

  She blinked at the bright sun and hoped for a breeze. In the distance, she glimpsed Daddy in the field on a seat while Paula pulled the tiller. Cinnamon was doing well. Jarred wanted to date her, and he would even join the church.

  What more could I ask for? She parted her lips as she recognized the answer. During their waiting time to date, there was work to be done. In fact, Rachel’s goal was clear.

  It was to reunite Jarred with his parents. This wasn’t an option or something to be considered and thought about, and it was definitely not to be put off. It was a must. She wanted it for Jarred and for their relationship, because she yearned for that emptiness inside of him to be filled.

  She would do whatever was necessary to ensure that the reunion happened. But how?

  She squatted and shoved a loose hair back under her covering. With one hand, she pulled a bright red tomato off the vine and added it to the growing collection inside her lined wicker basket. She paused a moment to enjoy the welcome breeze that caressed her forehead and rustled the deep green plants surrounding her.

  Nature’s fan didn’t last long. Rachel pulled her apron out of the way to reach some vegetables at the bottom of the vine. Her thoughts remained stuck on Jarred. She knew now that she had to repair his relationship with his parents. Who could help?

  She pressed her lips together thoughtfully. She’d already gotten advice from Old Sam. But how should she heed it?

  *

  The next day, Buddy wagged his reddish-brown tail as Rachel rushed into Old Sam’s barn. “Sam!” she hollered. While she awaited a response, she glimpsed the hope chest maker on his bench. His expression reflected deep concentration as he carved into a board that was held down by two metal planks.

  The enticing aroma of freshly baked dessert filled the small area. Rachel stepped closer and licked her lips. She lifted an eyebrow in amusement, now fully understanding why the canine had appeared more hopeful than usual. She glimpsed half of a sponge cake on a napkin next to Sam and caressed Buddy’s head.

  “Sorry, Bud.” Rachel held up a set of empty palms. “I’m not Annie.” As the dog whimpered his disappointment, Rachel giggled. The widower stopped to look up, and Rachel smiled. “I see Annie’s been here.”

  He chuckled. “Oh, yes. She makes sure I don’t go hungry.”

  They referred to Annie Miller. Rachel had recently attended the large tent wedding of the young Amish girl who had married her best childhood friend, Levi. Levi had been English for over a decade before joining the church with Annie and marrying her. Despite what the couple had gone through, God had blessed them with a happily-ever-after ending.

  The newlyweds were building a new home on the vacant lot next to her family. Despite her new “Mrs.” status, Annie kept her commitment to feed Sam her homemade sponge cakes.

  Catching her breath, Rachel plopped down on the chair opposite Sam’s bench. As she eyed his project in progress, her jaw dropped. “It’s a hand holding another hand.”

  For a moment, Rachel considered the simplicity of the art and thought it odd. Sam’s pieces were usually filled with great detail. “It’s touching. Who’s it for?”

  “A woman from Texas. And this special request is quite interesting.”

  Rachel eagerly leaned forward to rest her elbows on her thighs. Sam was about to tell her about the Texan.

  As he realigned the board in front of him with great care, he shifted, offering a gentle lift to his wooden seat to move closer to his work.

  Rachel tapped the toe of her hard shoe against the concrete floor, dying to hear what was behind this unique hope chest lid.

  Sam proceeded to carve into the oak, lowering his voice to a more thoughtful pitch. The wrinkles in the corners of his eyes deepened as he spoke. “Her name is Audrey.”

  Rachel waited for him to continue.

  “The story’s intriguing, to say the least. She and her younger sister, Jordan, were separated when they were toddlers. Nearly forty years later, they found each other.”

  “Oh!”

  “She wants to fill the chest with memorabilia from her childhood, picture albums and such, to give her sibling for Christmas.”

  “Why were they separated, Sam? How did it happen?”

  Sam glanced up and gave a sad shake of his head. “It’s devastating, but unfortunately, true, young one. They were in a park, five and six years old.”

  Rachel leaned forward and met his gaze with intense curiosity. “I can’t wait to hear the rest.”

  Sam went back to work. Rachel took a deep breath. Be patient. Everything Sam told her was well thought out. He never spoke precipitously; that was one of the things Rachel loved about him.

  He cleared his throat. “It started when they were playing at a family reunion.”

  Rachel pressed her lips together. She sat very still, not wanting to miss one word of how the girls were torn apart.

  While Sam blew sawdust off his tool, she took in his artistic-looking hands with admiration. I wonder what it would be like to make such beautiful designs. To personalize each hope chest for the person who buys it. Sam is a true artist.

  “It was on a Sunday afternoon. Apparently, the park was quite large, and there were numerous gatherings that day.” He squinted when a bright beam of light flooded in through the open doors.

  “If you use your imagination, you can see kids playing and running around, people eating grilled steaks and hamburgers—you get the picture. It was most likely a happy day, like family things are.”

  Rachel didn’t have trouble envisioning the scene. At the same time, she didn’t even try to guess what was coming. She sighed in contentment and mentally placed herself at the park with her family, cousins, aunts, and uncles.

  Sam stopped to hone his work. He used numerous tools to give detail to his work to make it look real.

  Finally, he continued his story. “The two were swinging. Jord
an stopped and rushed toward the merry-go-round. Audrey, the older, waited for her swing to slow before following suit. But when Audrey reached the merry-go-round, her sister wasn’t there. The merry-go-round was packed with cousins. At the time, Audrey wasn’t too concerned. After all, she was only six, too young to know about foul play. Besides, the kids were surrounded with relatives, young and old. I remember what it was like to play when I was little.”

  He looked away a moment as his voice drifted. “Not a care in the world.”

  Rachel couldn’t imagine Old Sam running around with other kids, but it must have happened, because he only told the truth.

  “Audrey asked around if they’d seen her sister. No one had. Then she ran to her mom and dad at a nearby picnic table.” He stopped. “Well, you guessed it. Jordan had gone missing.”

  Rachel couldn’t control the long ahhh of disbelief that escaped her throat.

  “Now, nearly forty years later, with help from a private investigator, Audrey found her. What evidence they have indicates that Jordan was abducted and sold to a couple without children. Jordan doesn’t recall anything about the day at the park, and the people who raised her are dead.”

  Rachel let out a sigh of amazement. “I can’t believe her sister found her again, Sam.”

  Sam nodded. “It’s a miracle, just like Cinnamon. And when we think about it, what went on could happen to anyone. That’s why it’s so important that kids have vigilant supervision.”

  The statement made Rachel stop and move her hands to her lap, where she pressed them firmly against her thighs. After a lengthy pause, Rachel made a decision. “Sam, I really need your advice. But in order to tell you why, I would betray someone’s confidence. What should I do?”

  A long silence ensued. “Life isn’t perfect, young one. Sometimes you can’t have what you need without compromising something else. The question is, which is more important? Not revealing what you’re not supposed to, or getting help?”

  Rachel considered the question. Finally, she threw her hands in the air. “Getting help.” She added seriously, “Sam, I’m telling you this because the situation is dire.”

  He laughed. “I don’t have answers to everything, you know. But I’ll listen and try to steer you in the right direction.”

  Rachel hesitated. “Okay.” She briefed Sam on Jarred’s situation with his parents, then fell silent.

  The late July sun floated in through the upper window of the barn. Rachel blinked and turned her chair so the brightness didn’t hit her in the face, then watched as a brown squirrel rushed in through the open door, sat on his hind legs, and looked around the four corners of the large structure before rushing back outside.

  Rachel breathed in the familiar aroma that was a combination of straw and fresh oak chippings. She smiled a little and looked down at the oversized workbench that separated her and Old Sam.

  I’m glad I confided in Old Sam. Soon, he’ll tell me what to do. I have to be patient. A warm breeze floated in through the large open doors and nudged a hair from Rachel’s kapp. The loose tendril fell down her cheek. Without thinking, she tucked it back beneath her covering.

  Rachel took in Sam’s serious expression. He had once told her he didn’t draw designs on paper, that when he envisioned the idea to put into the wood, he was able to take a mental picture that would be the end result. Rachel was sure that Sam was a genius. While she considered the brilliant artist, she thought of the devastating story she’d just shared.

  Her pulse picked up speed. She rested her palms under her hips and leaned forward, searching her heart for a way to help Jarred. Rachel wasn’t very old or experienced in worldly matters, but she was certain that when a mommy and a daddy gave their four-year-old son away, the story was sure to have an unhappy ending.

  She knew there had to be a way for her to help Jarred not feel guilty about what happened. Sam would tell her what it was. She eyed the widower with optimism and hopefulness.

  Small wood particles dropped around his feet. While she waited for a response, she turned her feet for Buddy to make himself comfortable. The canine moved around until he was finally satisfied, then he closed his eyes and let out a satisfied breath.

  Sam cleared his throat. “I can’t imagine my mother and father ever deserting me. But I was fortunate. So are you, Rachel. Never take your family’s support for granted. There are people in this world who would give anything to have such unconditional love. In Arthur, we don’t often see folks with what I call deep situations. But in today’s world, there are problems I was spared.”

  Without looking up from his work, he continued. “We live in a rural area. In the good ol’ Midwest. Our lives are simple, Rachel. The way God intended us to live, I believe. Of course, everything isn’t perfect, but in many ways, you might say we’re protected. For instance, we don’t have illegal drugs that cities deal with on a daily basis.”

  He waved a hand. “Oh, I know. We get sick. People around us break rules sometimes. In certain cases, we have to shun those we’ve grown up with. Members of our church die. But in the English world, there seem to be much more complicated matters.” He paused. “At least, that’s the way I see it.”

  Sam pressed his lips together in a straight line. “I can tell you this. Parents are responsible for their offspring. Their beliefs. Most of all, you must raise your kids to believe in God and to follow His commandments, because time on this earth is short. Eternity is forever.”

  He took in a breath and tapped the board in front of him. He appeared to focus on the oak, but Rachel knew that he was contemplating with great care what to say. Sam didn’t offer information without giving his advice great thought.

  “Whatever the circumstances, I would feel compelled to see my parents.”

  “Okay. But how would you contact them?”

  At Rachel’s side, Buddy pushed his face into her chest and whined. Automatically, she stroked the soft reddish-brown fur just above his nose. The dog closed his eyes and let out a contented whimper.

  Rachel’s shoulders relaxed. When Sam finally stopped what he was doing, she was sure she would have her answer.

  Buddy inched closer.

  “Like I said, if I hadn’t heard from my parents for over two decades, I would definitely want to see them. At the same time, I’d be afraid they wouldn’t reciprocate. So … to do this …”

  Rachel lifted a curious brow.

  “I would sit down and write out my thoughts. Express my love and tell them of my strong belief in God. Tell them how important it was for me to see them.”

  “You would call them?”

  Sam shook his head. “I would organize my thoughts into a heartfelt letter. And mail it.”

  Chapter Ten

  Jarred had told Rachel he loved her. She hadn’t responded. Did she love him, too?

  He smiled as Cinnamon licked sugar cubes from his palm and his long tongue tickled Jarred between his fingers. He chuckled. “That’s my boy. My fighter. I knew you’d come around. I’m sorry you went through so much.”

  The docile animal’s health was a good cause to be happy. Thank you, Lord. Today, Jarred’s energy level was unusually high. He was more optimistic about the future than ever. But Cinnamon wasn’t the only reason he whistled while he filled the metal trough with water. Although the horse’s vast improvement was grounds to smile, there was another one, too.

  Rachel. He had talked to her bishop about joining their church. And the process wouldn’t be fast. It would take a while to go through the classes, and before they started, he would be required to drive a horse and buggy.

  To his surprise, he didn’t see the change in lifestyle as an inconvenience. He viewed it as a great opportunity. At the same time, he was sure he spent too much time thinking about the Amish girl and how she made the impossible seem possible.

  In fact, he enjoyed everything about her. What he loved most, though, was her optimism. Since he’d known Rachel, her attitude had rubbed off on him, and that was something to
be thankful for because he was happier than ever. He had decided to risk his heart to be with her. To his surprise, Rachel’s confidence in him had bolstered his regard for himself. He liked the way she always insisted on looking at her glass, and his, half-full.

  Cinnamon drew up water, sloppily splashing drops onto Jarred’s arm. With a swift motion, he wiped them with his free hand and chuckled.

  “I need to teach you some manners.”

  He looked at the wooden stairs that led to the loft and glimpsed his last bale of straw. He’d get more. When his thoughts quickly returned to Rachel, he whistled. Since they’d become friends, he woke up thinking about what to do to better the lives of others. More than ever, his brother’s dream of starting a shelter was so vivid in his mind, he almost considered it a reality.

  Matt’s death still weighed heavily on his mind. The difference was that now, he balanced negative with positive. Rachel had convinced him of his self-worth. Of what he could contribute to four-legged creatures.

  He wanted to do something special to thank her for upping his confidence. But what could he give her? Since they’d met, he’d noted her compassion for animals and was keenly aware of her strong faith and of her love for her family and her friend “Old Sam.”

  But what did he know about her interests, really? What did she think about when she went to bed? His dream was to start a shelter and provide veterinary care for God’s vulnerable. Surely Rachel had goals of her own. He was sure she must want a family of her own. But what else? There were surely ideas she toyed with. Thought about.

  What was Rachel’s dream?

  *

  Inside their barn, Rachel scooped dirty straw into a pile. As she worked, her pulse beat at a steady, happy pace because Cinnamon was healthy and because in the near future, she and Jarred would date.

  She smiled at Paula and paused to swat a fly that buzzed in her face. “You’re gonna have to share the attention, girl. Thought I’d prepare you. Cinnamon’s coming home.”