The Amish Nurse's Suitor (Amish 0f Serenity Ridge Book 2)

by Carrie Lighte

  “No,” Meg said. “I mean, that’s not why I’m calling. I checked your email, but there wasn’t any notice yet. I’m sorry to get your hopes up. It was just that your message was so cryptic the other day I wanted to be sure you’re okay.”

  “Oh.” Rachel sighed. “Yeah, I, well... Friday was a long day, but everything is fine now. Ivan’s home now.”

  “Hey, that’s great! That means you’ll be home soon, too. Unless you decide to stay.”

  “How many times do I have to tell you, I am not staying here,” Rachel contended. And I might be returning sooner rather than later if Hadassah has her way.

  “Uh-oh. Does that mean Mr. Morose hasn’t gotten any nicer to you since you’ve been in Serenity Ridge?”

  “What? Do you mean Toby?” Distracted by picking up the invoices, Rachel didn’t have the foggiest notion why her roommate would have thought she’d been in touch with Toby.

  “No, not Dr. Deceiver. I was referring to Amish Arden. You know, Mr. Morose. The kind of thoughtless, insensitive man you’re supposedly trying to avoid.”

  “Oh, him. Well, like I’ve said, he isn’t always that dull. I definitely wouldn’t put him in the same category as Toby,” Rachel said. She knew Meg’s nicknames were her impish way of sticking up for Rachel, but she was relieved she hadn’t shared her ambivalence about Arden with her roommate. It wasn’t something she wanted to make light of. “So, anything new happening with you?”

  “Aside from the landlord finally fixing the washing machine? Nope, not a thing.”

  “I am so envious,” Rachel joked. “Nothing that exciting has happened here, although we did see a moose last evening...”

  After a few minutes of chitchat, Meg promised to let Rachel know as soon as she got an email from the university and then hung up. As Rachel stood to stack the mess of papers she’d gathered on the desk, she noticed Arden in the doorway.

  “Hi, Arden. I’ve kumme to switch places with you. How about if I stay here and paint the doghouse while you take your lunch break at the haus, where you can keep an eye on Ivan? He’s been guarding the whoopie pies, but if you arm wrestle him for one, I’m sure you’d win,” she jested.

  “Neh. I got waylaid by another project, so I haven’t completed the doghouse yet. I’m not taking a lunch break. So there’s no sense in you hanging around here this afternoon.”

  His reply was so curt and his tone so dismissive that Rachel stalked off thinking, As if I’d want to be around you anyway, Mr. Morose!

  * * *

  Arden sawed through a two-by-six, letting the end segment clatter to the floor before stopping to take a swig of cold water. It quenched his thirst but not his fuming. He’d been mad ever since he overheard Rachel talking on the phone. It wasn’t as if he’d intended to listen in on her conversation, but now that he’d overheard it, her words echoed ruthlessly in his mind.

  “He isn’t always that dumb,” she’d said. Or had she used the word dull? It hardly mattered; they meant the same thing—she’d been calling someone stupid. Maybe it was self-centered of Arden to suspect he was the one she’d been referring to, but who else could she have meant? Her brothers were the only other men she’d crossed paths with in Serenity Ridge, and she regarded Ivan too highly to speak about him that way. As for Colin, he was cantankerous, maybe even cruel, but Arden doubted Rachel considered him dumb—not even compared to Toby, who apparently was so intelligent he was in a class all by himself. That left Arden.

  He felt humiliated. He felt infuriated. And, ironically, he felt extraordinarily stupid—not because of his speaking and reading difficulties, but because he’d sincerely believed Rachel respected him. Come to find out she was looking down her nose at him, maybe even at the entire Amish community. I guess Colin and Hadassah were right about her after all. Her phone conversation had made it clear not only how she felt about Arden but about being in Serenity Ridge, where apparently nothing exciting happened. Sorry we don’t live up to your standards for entertainment, he imagined saying to her. If you’re so bored, why don’t you hire a visiting nurse to take care of Ivan so you can go back to the Englisch lifestyle you claimed you were never drawn to in the first place?

  Arden’s foul mood followed him throughout the afternoon, but at least he channeled his orneriness into constructing the small, simple garden shed that was due the following morning. It was a quick project that required no painting, but without Rachel on-site to remind him of the deadline, he’d forgotten about it. Unfortunately, that meant he’d have to stay late to complete the doghouse that was due on Thursday, which would have to be painted tomorrow. He was so engrossed in his work he didn’t notice anyone had entered the workshop until Grace appeared at his side.

  “What’s wrong—”

  “Don’t worry, Mamm’s fine. She insisted I bring supper to Rachel and Ivan. And to you, too. She thought we’d enjoy sharing a meal together.”

  I’m sure she did. “That’s a nice gesture, but I’m too busy to stop for supper.”

  “But you’ve got to eat.”

  “Eating can wait. My deadline can’t.”

  “You don’t have to stay long, but surely you can spare the time to gobble down a plate of yumsetta,” Grace argued. “C’mon, Arden. If you don’t join us, it will look like...you know.”

  “Like you’re here specifically to see Ivan because you like him?” Although he had never mentioned it before, Arden had his suspicions about how his sister felt about Ivan. The color rising in her cheeks now indicated he’d been right.

  “Neh, it will look like you’re being rude. Which you are, in more ways than one!” Grace retorted. Arden hadn’t meant to insult her; he’d just wanted her to back off about eating supper at the house.

  “Ivan knows how much work I have to do. He’ll understand why I can’t stop.”

  “Jah, but what about Rachel? Have you considered how she might feel if you don’t join us for a meal? She might think it’s because she’s Englisch.”

  “Rachel is Englisch, and I have no obligation to socialize with her. My only obligation is to work with her.”

  “Eh-hem.” From the doorway, Rachel cleared her throat. “I, um, was coming to ask whether you prefer water or millich with your meal.”

  “Millich, please,” Grace answered. “Arden can’t eat with us tonight—he’s got to keep working.”

  “I understand.” Rachel looked squarely at him. Arden couldn’t read her expression, but after she and Grace left, he wondered, Did she hear what I said about not being obligated to socialize with her? Then he shrugged it off, reasoning, Now she knows what it’s like to overhear someone express how they really feel about you.

  But the truth was, Arden didn’t really feel about Rachel the way his comment might have made it sound, even if she thought he was dumb. Which he had to admit was kind of presumptuous—maybe even egotistical—of him to believe, since he couldn’t be certain she’d been talking about him on the phone. The more time that passed, the hungrier he became, and the more he wished he had joined the others for supper. Maybe if I hurry I can finish this up and get to the haus before Grace leaves. If I’m fortunate, I can at least get a piece of dessert.

  By the time he’d completed his work on the doghouse, it was after seven, so he didn’t bother to put his tools away before locking up for the night. As he crossed the driveway, he spotted Ivan and Grace rocking on the porch swing, and he wondered if they’d already had dessert or if Rachel would serve it to them there. But from this vantage point, he could see the backyard, too, and he noticed Rachel was taking in the laundry—an indication her hosting duties had ended.

  The clothesline was a bit too high; she had to stand on tiptoes to grasp it and then tug it down while she unclipped the pins. As Arden quickened his pace so he could give her a hand, he spied something looming near the back perimeter of the property. At first he thought it was a shadow or the dusk was playin
g tricks on his eyes, but then the creature slogged several steps in Rachel’s direction. The moose! Arden’s heart battered his ribs. Although the animal’s eyesight likely wasn’t good enough for it to see Rachel behind the linens, its hearing and sense of smell were excellent, and it seemed to home in on her. By contrast, Rachel was completely oblivious to the danger lurking on the other side of the sheet hanging in front of her.

  Aware a loud noise could frighten the moose, Arden crept closer and said, “Rachel, absatz,” just loud enough for her to hear. She swiveled her head sideways to look at him, an annoyed expression on her face as she continued unpinning the sheet. “Do. Not. Move,” he commanded gruffly, terrified she’d flounce off rather than speak to him. “There’s a moose coming toward you.”

  His tone must have convinced her he was gravely serious, because Rachel froze with her arms stretched above her head, her spine straight. She locked her gaze on him, and her face went whiter than the sheet she’d was unfastening. “Arden, help me,” she whimpered. Then, “Please help me, Lord. Please, Gott, make it go away.”

  Arden tried to reassure her from where he’d sought protection beside a maple tree some ten yards away. The tree wasn’t especially wide, but he knew it was vital to keep something sturdy in between him and the moose at all times. “It stopped walking, but it’s looking your way. You must do exactly what I tell you to do. If I say run, you need to sprint over here to me, behind this tree as fast as you can.”

  “Now?”

  “Neh!” Arden exclaimed, and the moose lowered its head and flattened its ears, both signs of aggression. “Don’t run unless I tell you to.”

  “Please, Arden, please,” she pleaded, as if he held any authority over the large bull. “It’s getting closer. I can hear it making a clicking sound.”

  “Rachel, listen to me. I want you to back away very, very slowly.” She immediately let go of the clothesline and sheet and inched away as the moose flattened its ears—not a good sign. Arden’s back and leg muscles were so tense they burned. Little by little Rachel was putting distance between herself and the moose, but she was still out in the open. She couldn’t outrun the animal if it charged; she’d never make it around the house or even to the maple tree.

  Arden considered his options. If he waved and yelled, there was a chance the moose might scram, but it seemed more likely he’d incite the beast to charge. So he did the only thing he could count on to be effective: Please, Gott, get that animal out of here, he prayed.

  “Arden, what are you looking for over there?” Grace questioned loudly as she came traipsing around the house toward the backyard.

  “Shh.” Arden gestured for Grace to stop just as the dangling sheet billowed in the breeze. At that the moose thundered forward. “Run!” Arden shouted, but instead Rachel collapsed right where she stood. Arden started to race toward her when he noticed the moose had come to an abrupt standstill a few yards in front of the clothesline, so he halted, too. The bull’s first charge was a bluff. Would it leave or would it charge a second time for real?

  “Don’t move,” he growled at Grace, who’d also stopped dead in her tracks. He waited as the moose stared at the sheet. Was that what it was after all along? One, maybe two agonizing minutes passed before the animal slowly raised its head again and galumphed from the yard.

  Grace and Arden both sprinted toward Rachel. He reached her first, and she was already rousing, or trying to. He rolled her from her side onto her back and directed Grace to elevate Rachel’s feet twelve inches above her heart. Then he bent to put his ear by her mouth so he could hear her raspy voice.

  “Did the moose knock me down?”

  “Neh. He didn’t have to. You fell down on your own.”

  “Where did everyone go?” Ivan asked, stumbling toward them in the twilight.

  “Wait right there!” Grace ordered. “We don’t need a second Blank passing out tonight.” She gently set Rachel’s feet down and ran to Ivan’s side, saying, “I’ll take him inside.”

  When Rachel lifted her head and propped herself up on her elbows, Arden warned, “You shouldn’t get up too quickly. You might get dizzy.”

  “Who’s the nurse here, you or me?” she asked, sitting all the way up.

  “I might not be as schmaert as you are, but I’m definitely stronger,” Arden replied. He slid an arm beneath her knees and wrapped his other one around her torso. In one swift motion, he stood upright and pulled her closer to his trembling heart.

  * * *

  Arden’s gesture was so unexpected and his embrace so gentle Rachel felt as if she might faint a second time. As he carried her toward the house, she exhaled, allowing herself to go limp against his chest. She was so accustomed to being a nurse—to caring for others—she didn’t realize how soothing it was to have someone coddle her, and she closed her eyes to bask in the feeling.

  “You okay?” Arden’s breath warmed Rachel’s face.

  “Jah.” She peered up at him. “Denki for rescuing me. If you hadn’t warned me the moose was there or talked me through the situation, who knows what might have happened.”

  “I hardly rescued you. That was Gott’s doing.”

  “True, but Gott allowed you to be in the right place at the right time, so He could use you for my gut.”

  They reached the house, and Arden climbed the porch stairs and opened the screen door one-handed, not setting her down until they’d reached the living room, where Grace was coaxing Ivan to take another sip of water.

  “Rachel!” Ivan exclaimed. “Grace told me what happened. Praise the Lord you’re all right.”

  “Praise the Lord you’re all right, too,” Rachel echoed. Arden still had his arm looped around her waist, and he assisted her to the sofa so she could sit next to her brother. Once seated, she patted Ivan’s hand. “You hardly have enough strength to walk from the bedroom to the living room, much less hike through the yard. What would you have done if the moose had charged you?”

  “That would depend.”

  “On what?”

  “On how much money I had,” Ivan deadpanned.

  “Voll schpass.” Everyone laughed until Rachel clapped her hand over her mouth, realizing she needed to pick up a prescription. The pharmacy at the superstore was open until ten, and the druggist had said they’d have the medication ready, since Ivan needed to take it that night before bed.

  “I don’t think you should drive,” Arden protested. “Not so soon after fainting.”

  “I’ll be fi—”

  “Neh, she definitely shouldn’t drive.” Grace agreed with her brother for once. “You ought to take her in the buggy, Arden. I’ll stay with Ivan.”

  “Neh. It will take too long. Your mamm will be worried.”

  “Our mamm will be asleep,” Grace countered. “She told me she was going to bed early and we shouldn’t hurry home if we’re having schpass, especially Arden. She’s always pestering him to be more social.”

  Rachel got the feeling Grace was the one who was in no hurry to return home; clearly she desired to spend more time talking with Ivan alone on the porch. While Rachel empathized, she could tell by Arden’s lack of response how hesitant he was to bring her to the pharmacy. All of a sudden, she remembered his words from earlier that day: “Rachel is Englisch and I have no obligation to socialize with her.” In her hysteria over the moose, she’d forgotten about that and how hurt and disappointed she’d felt. Granted, it was a small offense compared to the enormity of saving her life, so she couldn’t hold a grudge. Neither could she impose on Arden to spend more time with her than he wanted to—especially since she’d already committed to distancing herself from him.

  “Neh, that’s okay. I’ll be fine driving,” Rachel said. Then to show she held no expectation of him, she added, “Arden’s not obligated to take me.”

  “I know I’m not obligated,” Arden said, his tone as assertive as when he�
��d instructed Rachel not to move as the moose was eyeing her. “But I’d like to take you, if you’ll let me.”

  Concerned he may have felt put on the spot, Rachel questioned, “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

  Arden didn’t reply—he was already on his way outside to hitch up his horse and buggy.

  Chapter Eight

  Arden’s ears were scorching; Rachel had definitely heard what he’d said to Grace in the workshop. As he adjusted the leather straps on the horse’s harness, he wondered how he was going to explain why he felt it was necessary to avoid her outside the workshop. The horse whinnied, and Arden glanced around the driveway to make sure the moose hadn’t returned. A shiver prickled his spine. Rachel could have died tonight, he thought. Suddenly, he felt resentful of Colin and Hadassah’s pettiness. If they didn’t value the opportunity to have a relationship with Rachel, that was their choice, but he wasn’t going to let their opinion—their self-righteousness and spite—ruin his friendship with her.

  So, after he assisted Rachel into the buggy but before he directed the horse to walk on, he turned to her and said, “I kn-know you overheard what I told Grace in the w-work-sh-shop about not being o-obligated to s-socialize with you. I only said that because I—I—I felt bad Colin and Hadassah were so upset, and I thought by not sp-spending time with you except at work, maybe it would help e-e-ease the ten-tension.” It had been a while since Arden’s speech had been that choppy in Rachel’s presence, and a bead of sweat dribbled down his neck.

  She nodded thoughtfully. “I understand. I actually decided something similar about limiting the time I spend with you. Not just for Ivan’s sake, either—I don’t want you to get a bad reputation if you hang out with me socially. You know, guilt by association.”

  Arden shrugged. “Neither of us is guilty of any wrongdoing, so if people are going to judge us unfairly, I guess there’s not much we can do to stop ’em.”