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

by Carrie Lighte

  “So then...” Rachel dipped her head shyly. Arden had the urge to tuck her hair behind her ear so he could look into her eyes. “Does that mean you still want to take me to the pharmacy?”

  “Jah, of course! And anywhere else you want to go.”

  As the horse clip-clopped along the country roads toward the Englisch superstore, Rachel chatted away about how she couldn’t believe it had been ten years since she’d been in a buggy. She said she’d missed the rhythm, the pace, the sounds and even the smells of traveling that way. Arden sneaked a glance at her animated silhouette and grinned; her exuberance was charming.

  Catching him looking at her, she said, “I’m babbling, aren’t I? I assure you, it’s not a post-concussion syndrome symptom.”

  “A what?”

  “Oh, sorry. I was referring to symptoms that can be red flags after someone suffers a blow to the head. Like confusion or sensitivity to sound. Or like feeling a pressure to talk too much, the way I was just doing.”

  Arden’s mouth went dry. “You think you have a c-con-concussion? It d-didn’t seem like you h-hit your h-head when you fell, and th-the ground is so soft.”

  Rachel must have known she’d alarmed him, because she touched his shoulder. “Neh! I didn’t hit my head, and I definitely don’t have a concussion. It was intended as a joke because I’m jabbering so much. Nurse humor, that’s all.” She rested her hand on her lap again.

  “Then what do you have that’s making you gab so much?” Arden cracked.

  “Well, it could be one of two things. It’s possible I’ve kumme down with a bad case of homesickness—or I’m recovering from one. A person doesn’t really know how much she’s missed something until she has it again. Then she can’t seem to get enough of it,” she said, her voice quavering. Was that from the vibration of the carriage or something deeper?

  “What’s the other diagnosis?” he asked to lighten her mood.

  “Too-much-sugar-itis.” She grinned at him and confessed, “We had whoopie pies again for dessert.”

  He smacked his lips. “Now that’s one illness I wouldn’t mind catching.”

  * * *

  Rachel lay in bed with her eyes closed, imagining herself in Arden’s arms as he carried her from the backyard into the house. As terrified as she’d been by the moose attack—or pseudo-attack—she was equally enraptured by Arden’s protective embrace. And his watchfulness hadn’t stopped there; he’d persuaded her to give him the business phone that night because he wanted her to get a good night of rest and to sleep in as late as she needed the next morning. Even Arden’s willingness to distance himself from her had been a demonstration of caring for Rachel, a way of looking out for her best interests, as well as those of her family. It was no wonder she was falling for him.

  Rachel, you only think you’re falling for him, she could hear Meg warning. That’s natural after someone saves your life. You know full well it’s just a rush of hormones—dopamine, oxytocin, serotonin and endorphins. It will pass. But that was exactly the problem; Rachel didn’t want the feelings to pass. She wanted them to linger. She wanted them to grow.

  Sighing, she rolled to her side. She couldn’t wait to see Arden the next day. They had agreed if Ivan was well enough, she’d change places with Arden at lunchtime so she could paint the doghouse. As the rain thrummed on the rooftop, Rachel realized she’d never finished taking in the laundry. Now what would she do? Both of her skirts were on the line. She hadn’t noticed until she was getting ready for bed that the back of the dress she’d worn tonight was dirty from when she’d fallen. She didn’t want to knowingly go to work looking unkempt—especially in front of Arden.

  That’s when she remembered the lavender dress she’d begun sewing. She got up and padded downstairs to the living room. After checking on Ivan, she brought her fabric and sewing supplies back to her room. Stitching the dress again reminded her of the grape-suturing competition Toby had held against his brother. Maybe it was because she really had eaten too much sugar that evening, but the idea of suturing a patient repulsed Rachel to the point of nausea. Certainly she’d experienced queasiness before in her role as a nurse, but tonight she felt overwhelmed by it. It’s only nerves—a post-traumatic reaction to the moose scaring me, she told herself.

  Nevertheless, she tied a knot in the thread and clipped it from the spool. Holding up the garment by its shoulder seams, she realized how closely it resembled the dresses she’d made as a girl. She hadn’t intended to replicate the pattern—she hadn’t even used a pattern—but with its long skirt, boxy top and clean, simple lines, it looked more like an Amish dress than an Englisch one. Amish women didn’t use buttons or zippers on their garments, relying instead on straight pins or hooks. Rachel hadn’t meant to imitate this practice, either, but sheer exhaustion caused her to abandon the idea of sewing a zipper into the dress, and she’d forgotten to buy buttons anyway. This will have to do until I can rewash and dry my other clothes. It was past two when she finally turned in and after seven when she woke the next day.

  It was no longer raining, but the air was heavy with humidity and Rachel was glad she’d stayed up making the lightweight cotton dress. Since she’d be painting that day, she pulled her hair into a soft bun and then made her bed and went downstairs. To her relief, Ivan was still asleep—he’d stayed up until Rachel and Arden returned home the previous evening, which was much later than usual for him. Although she sensed he relished visiting with Grace as much as Grace did with him, Rachel hoped he wasn’t overdoing it. She didn’t want him to suffer a setback.

  I might as well bring the laundry in, she thought, but she made coffee and swept the kitchen floor first. Then she swept the living room floor. After wiping out the fridge and reorganizing the pantry shelves, she recognized she was deliberately procrastinating going into the backyard. That’s silly. I’d be far more likely to encounter the moose again at dusk or dawn than at this time of day...

  She gathered her courage and stepped outside, nearly upending the laundry basket that was sitting in front of the door. Who knew she’d ever be so delighted to find a load of dirty linens and clothes! Arden must have collected them this morning. She brought the basket into the basement, and as the washer tub was filling, she examined the clothes. They weren’t dirty, just wet from the night’s rain—there was no need to rewash them after all. However, the sheet she’d been taking off the line when the moose disrupted her task was grimy along its edges where it had hung to the ground. Rachel filled the basin, added soap, put the sheet in the tub and turned on the agitator, allowing the machine to churn while she swept the basement floor. Afterward, she fed the sheet through the wringer and then carried it and the other items upstairs to hang on the line a second time.

  But first she ducked into the bathroom to wash her hands, since they’d gotten dirty handling the sheet. Glancing at the mirror, she caught sight of her reflection and didn’t immediately recognize it as her own. Upon taking a longer look at her lavender dress and Amish hairstyle, she gasped and promptly burst into tears as the past came rushing back. She didn’t just recall how she’d looked before she left Serenity Ridge, but how she’d felt, how consumed she was with her dream of becoming a nurse. But she had become a nurse, so why was she crying now?

  “Why are you crying?” Ivan’s question from the hallway echoed hers.

  She moved toward him, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I d-don’t know—don’t know who I am anymore.” She hiccuped, her shoulders heaving.

  “I do. You’re my lovely schweschder,” Ivan replied, which made her sob harder. He took her by her hand and led her to the couch in the living room, where he waited for her to stop crying before he brought her a glass of water.

  She pushed a tear from her cheek with her wrist. “I’m the one who’s supposed to be helping you feel better. You need your rest.”

  “You need your rest. Why don’t you go back to sleep for a couple m
ore hours?”

  “I can’t. I have to hang the laundry.”

  “It will still be there when you get up, because even if I had the energy, you wouldn’t want me hanging it. It would end up more wrinkled than it is now.”

  Suddenly it occurred to Rachel to ask, “Who was doing your laundry before I got here?”

  “Hadassah,” he admitted sheepishly.

  “But it’s been years since they moved into their own haus.”

  “Jah. I told her she didn’t have to do it, but I guess she didn’t like the way I looked when I washed and hung out my clothes myself. Like I said, they somehow end up looking worse.”

  Rachel chuckled; say what she would about her sister-in-law, Hadassah had been looking out for Ivan for years, and in some ways, Hadassah probably thought of him as her little brother, too. “I’ll hang the clothes first and then I’ll go back to bed for a while. Just don’t let me sleep past noon. I have a doghouse to paint.”

  * * *

  As he worked alone for the third day straight, Arden tried to convince himself it wasn’t Rachel in particular he missed—it was the silence that was getting to him. But he knew that wasn’t true; he’d been working alone for weeks when Ivan first came down with bronchitis, and the hours had never dragged on like this before. How was it that two weeks ago he’d never even met Rachel Blank and now, after only two and a half days without her in the workshop, Arden was keenly aware of her absence?

  He kept scanning the area by the desk to catch sight of her chewing the end of a pen the way she sometimes did when she was reconciling the invoices, but of course she wasn’t there. I’d better get used to it, he reminded himself. In another few weeks, she’ll be back in Boston. And if Ivan didn’t start regaining his strength, Arden wouldn’t see Rachel very often until she left, either, because she’d continue to do the paperwork up at the house.

  Even though they’d agreed she would paint the doghouse that day, Arden wouldn’t be there at the same time—he’d be at the house with Ivan, since Rachel was concerned about him being too weak or becoming light-headed and falling. It’s too bad her phone is broken, otherwise Ivan could use it to call the business phone if he needed help. That way, Rachel would be free to work here with me.

  Just then the phone’s ringer cut through Arden’s thoughts. He jogged across the workshop to pick it up as an Amish woman he didn’t recognize breezed through the door. He held up one finger to indicate he’d be right with her, but as he pressed the phone between his shoulder and ear, Arden’s attention was focused on jotting down the details for a change in the customer’s order. Capturing the information on paper was a challenge, and it didn’t help his concentration to have the Amish stranger hovering nearby. Arden had to ask the man on the phone to repeat the spelling of his last name twice, but even then he transposed the letters when he read them back to the customer. When Arden finally had it right, he said goodbye and snapped the phone shut, scratching out his errors while simultaneously asking the woman, “How may I help you?”

  “I’m here to inquire if you construct fences, or only sheds.”

  “Only sheds and small buildings,” Arden said, frowning at the square of paper. It was a mess; he hoped Rachel could read it.

  “Oh, that’s too bad. I’ve had a problem with a thirteen-hundred-pound trespasser in my backyard, and I heard your sheds are so durable I hoped you could build me an equally strong fence.”

  “A thirteen-hundred-pound tres—Rachel!” Arden dropped his pen. Her appearance had completely thrown him off. “I didn’t recognize you.”

  She smiled. “Jah, I didn’t recognize myself in the mirror, either. As you know, all of my other clothes had to be rehung. Denki for bringing them to the doorstep for me, by the way.”

  Arden couldn’t concentrate on what she was saying. Although he’d seen her with her hair in a bun before and the dress she was wearing now wasn’t all that different from the long Englisch skirts or modest dresses she normally wore, there was something about the simplicity of the ensemble that emphasized the uniqueness of her eyes. Previously he might have described them as almond shaped, but now he saw they were actually upturned and fringed with lashes that were thicker and longer at the outer corners. Even the little nick above her right cheekbone stood out against the plain backdrop of her outfit, enhancing the originality of her countenance.

  She smoothed her skirt. “I know lavender is your least favorite color, but I won’t be around much today, so you won’t have to look at me in it for very long.”

  Arden hadn’t realized he’d been staring. “I don’t mind looking at you in it. I mean, I m-mean, the color is becoming on you. Or you are b-becoming in it.”

  The skin around her eyes crinkled with her smile—something else he hadn’t noticed when she’d worn her hair down. “I might be wearing a polka-dotted dress by the time I’m done painting the doghouse, especially since I’ll to have to hurry. I hope I can finish it quicker than you and Ivan can eat your lunch.”

  Arden couldn’t stop himself from asking, “I, uh, I wa-was wondering if your cell phone works yet?” He presented his idea of giving it to Ivan so he could call her on the business phone if he needed help, which would allow her to spend more time in the workshop.

  “Oh, that’s a gut idea, but my cell phone has officially expired.” She momentarily looked almost as disappointed as he felt, but then she brightened. “Hey! Instead of painting during your lunch break, I could go buy a disposable phone. I’ve wanted to get one while I’m here anyway. It doesn’t feel right to use the business phone for my personal calls.”

  “That’s a wunderbaar idea—”

  Just then Grace entered the shop. “Oh, Rachel, your dress is lovely! Didn’t I tell you? Arden, don’t her eyes look pretty in that color?”

  “Her eyes look pretty in any color.” The words rolled off his tongue, and Arden couldn’t tell who was most stunned by them—him, Rachel or his sister. Of the three, Grace recovered the quickest. She asked if they’d celebrate Ivan’s birthday with her on Friday evening.

  Rachel clapped her hand to her cheek. “I forgot his birthday is on the thirteenth!”

  “I don’t think he remembers, either—he said he’s lost all sense of time. Which will make it more festive, kind of like a surprise party.” After Rachel and Arden agreed a quiet celebration was in order, Grace said, “Today I’ve brought Ivan hinkel supp from Mamm. This morning I told her about the moose incident, so she also sent me off with a jug of chamomile sun tea to calm your nerves, Rachel.”

  “Denki. Ivan would probably like to have supp for lunch instead of the sandwich I fixed for him. You came at the perfect time if you’d like to join him and Arden at the haus. I have an errand to run.”

  “Actually, I need to get a smaller level—my three-foot one is too big for the shelves I need to hang in our next shed,” Arden said. “So, I, uh, I’d like to go with you, Rachel. If Grace doesn’t mind staying with Ivan, that is.”

  “That’s fine,” Grace agreed.

  Arden didn’t know if his sister’s smirk was because it was obvious he wanted to spend time with Rachel or because Grace was pleased to visit Ivan alone again. Probably both, he decided, feeling a bit smug himself.

  * * *

  Rachel was glad she was wearing a long dress, because her knees were wobblier today from Arden’s compliment about her eyes than they had been last night when the moose was coming her way. Fortunately, she was able to steady her hands against the steering wheel, and as she drove, she questioned Arden about Oneita’s health.

  “Her skin is so much better she doesn’t want to go to the rheumatologist next week for her regularly scheduled appointment. Which reminds me, I was supposed to cancel it for her.”

  “Oh?” Rachel was concerned. “I’m not sure that you should do that. Her situation with her skin discoloration wasn’t urgent, but it is something the dokder should be a
ware of so he can track it. He might want to make adjustments to her treatment plan, too.”

  “That’s what I tried to tell her, but she thinks you gave her all the help she needs. And my mamm is as stubborn as...as a moose!”

  Rachel giggled. “My mamm was like that, too. No one knew better than she did, because she was the mamm.”

  “Jah, that’s why I was so surprised when my mamm listened to you.” Arden added, “You must be very gut at talking to your patients because you’re so considerate and easygoing, but you’re very knowledgeable, too.”

  Rachel felt her cheeks flush. Two compliments from Arden in one day. That was more than she’d sometimes received from Toby in a month. “How about if I go talk to her before you cancel the appointment?”

  Arden groaned. “She’s going to think I put you up to it.”

  “Neh, she won’t. Tomorrow when Ivan’s asleep, I’ll drop in casually to return her pitcher.”

  “Denki. I’d appreciate that.”

  “It’ll be my pleasure.” Building relationships with patients was one of Rachel’s favorite parts of nursing, and she hummed the rest of the way to the superstore.

  As they pulled into the parking lot, Rachel scanned the opposite corner. Since the Amish community was still small, there wasn’t a covered area for horses and buggies the way there sometimes was in larger Amish communities. But in Serenity Ridge, the Englisch residents respected that the horses needed a quiet place where they wouldn’t be disturbed, and someone had built a simple hitching post on the southernmost edge of the lot. Even though Arden had insisted the night before that he didn’t mind if anyone saw them together, Rachel was relieved to find the area devoid of other Amish people. But in case any showed up, she suggested she and Arden separate inside the store and meet again outside at her car.

  He wrinkled his forehead, his blue eyes dimming. “Don’t you want to be seen with me? Are you afraid the Englischers will see you in that dress and assume we’re courting?”