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

by Carrie Lighte

  But apparently Rachel had somewhere to go—probably to an Englisch store, guessing by her appearance. She was back to wearing her usual clothes, and instead of pulling her hair into a neat bun, she’d piled it in a sloppy knot atop of her head. She looks like she’s been in a windstorm. Arden instantly regretted the thought; by criticizing something as superficial as Rachel’s wardrobe or hair, he was behaving no differently than Hadassah, and he liked to think he had far better reasons for finding fault with Rachel than that.

  Then it occurred to him since Rachel had left the house, it was the perfect time to say hello to Ivan and drop off the notepad containing what little bit of information he managed to capture from the phone calls. To his surprise—he hadn’t noticed his sister’s buggy by the stable—Grace greeted him at the door wearing a blue mask. His pulse drummed in his ears; was Ivan okay?

  “The mask is only a precaution,” Grace said. “Mamm had a fever this morning, and since I’ve been in close contact with her, I was concerned I might accidentally transfer an illness to Ivan. Rachel said she doubts it, but she went to check on Mamm anyway. I guess she’s going to try to convince her to keep her rheumatologist appointment, although I can’t imagine Mamm will agree.”

  “I wouldn’t be too sure about that—Rachel has a gut rapport with Mamm,” Arden replied, automatically giving credit where it was due. Despite being miffed at Rachel, he was grateful she was going to try to persuade their mother to follow up with her doctor.

  Because Rachel hadn’t left an extra mask for Arden, when he entered the kitchen, he stayed across the room from Ivan. They chatted briefly before Arden handed off the information he’d brought with him.

  “I ought to have Rachel bring me up-to-date on the paperwork,” Ivan said. “But I’m afraid I sleep so much sometimes I don’t know what actually happens and what I dreamed happened. I’m eager for things to be back to normal at the workshop again, though.”

  Not half as eager as I am, Arden thought. “No hurry. It’s better not to push yourself. I wouldn’t want you to relapse.” Especially if it means your schweschder would have to stay longer.

  Although Grace invited him to join them for lunch, Arden was too hot to eat soup and he didn’t want to be there when Rachel returned, so he plodded back to the workshop. He had just crossed the threshold when the phone rang. Not again, he thought. This time the caller asked to speak with Rachel.

  “She’s not here at the moment, but how can I help you?”

  The man chuckled. “You can’t, except to give Rachel a message. Let her know Toby phoned and I’d like her to return my call as soon as possible. She’s got my number. Thanks, guy,” Toby said and disconnected before Arden could reply.

  Thanks, guy? No wonder Rachel had dated Toby; he was just as condescending as she was.

  * * *

  “Hello, Rachel.” Oneita patted the empty spot beside her on the double glider on the porch. “Kumme, sit. You look a little wan, dear.”

  Rachel tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. The humidity was wilting her updo. “I may look as if I’m drooping, but I feel fine. How are you feeling?”

  Oneita harrumphed. “Better than my dochder would have you believe. I assume she sent you here?”

  Rachel laughed. “I was going to use the pretext of returning your pitcher, but I forgot to bring it. I would genuinely like to borrow an oier, though. But you’re right, I came because Grace is worried about your fever.”

  “I honestly don’t feel like I have one. I keep telling Grace she worries too much.”

  “I must say, you don’t look sick. May I take your temperature?” Oneita agreed, so Rachel took a thermometer from her first aid kit and slid it beneath Oneita’s tongue. When it beeped, she removed it and read aloud, “Ninety-eight point one. Nope, no fever.”

  “I knew that thermometer Grace was using was a piece of junk! I misplaced ours, so she picked up one on sale at the supermarket. I told her she was sacrificing quality for price, and this proves me right.”

  “I’m inclined to agree with you, but I can understand why Grace was worried,” Rachel said diplomatically.

  Even though no one else was anywhere around, Oneita lowered her voice. “I suspect she was even more worried about your bruder than about me. She’s quite fond of him.”

  “I think Ivan’s fond of Grace, too,” Rachel confided.

  “I reckon it’s too early to plant celery for their hochzich, but I’d love to have Ivan as a son-in-law. He’s been a blessing to our familye. Especially to my suh.”

  At the mention of Arden, Rachel shifted uncomfortably in her seat, but she acknowledged, “Ivan’s very grateful to have Arden as his partner, too. I remember him writing to me that he was about to give up the idea of owning a business when Arden answered his ad. He was amazed a craftsman like Arden would relocate halfway across the country for an uncertain business endeavor.”

  “It must have been part of Gott’s divine plan for both of them, because your bruder gave Arden an opportunity he never would have had back home.”

  Despite being upset with him, Rachel’s curiosity was piqued. “Really? Arden’s so skilled—why wouldn’t he start his own business in Indiana?”

  “There are a lot of carpenters in that part of the country. They far exceed the demand. And of course, working in an Englisch job simply wasn’t an option for Arden.”

  “Neh, of course not,” Rachel murmured. Although she could understand why an Amish person might not want to work for an Englisch employer, hearing it still felt like an affront, especially since it was clear Arden would have preferred an Amish person to work with him during Ivan’s illness, too.

  Oneita continued, “He was crushed he couldn’t work in the factory with his daed. But with Arden’s reading and writing difficulties, well, he struggled through the application process, which included timed tests. And because his speaking problem is worse when he’s tired or nervous, he didn’t do well during the interviews, either.”

  His reading and writing difficulties? His speaking problem? It took a moment for it to dawn on Rachel. “Oh, you mean because he stutters sometimes? That doesn’t seem fair for an employer to eliminate him for a job on that basis.”

  “His stuttering, jah, but it’s more that he sometimes has trouble getting his thoughts out. You’ve probably noticed it takes him twice as long to read and write as anyone else, too. That’s why working with Ivan is such a gut fit for him. Your bruder handles all the calls and paperwork—and now you do, too. Although Arden is too self-conscious to talk about it, I know it was a huge relief when you arrived.”

  Rachel’s stomach dropped, and if her skin hadn’t already been clammy from the heat, she would have broken into a sweat upon remembering she’d asked Arden to read aloud from the phone packaging yesterday. She’d also pointed out he’d been stuttering. And laughed when he mixed up right and left. No wonder he was so terse with me! He must think I’m a total jerk! Her eyes stung, and she scrambled to her feet, causing Oneita to ask whether she was okay.

  “Jah, but it occurred to me there’s something I need take care of at the workshop.” Rachel zipped to the car without another thought about borrowing an egg or even encouraging Oneita to keep her medical appointment—all that mattered to her now was making things right with Arden.

  * * *

  When Rachel barreled through the door, Arden was sitting at the desk finishing the last of his lunch while he puzzled over an order that had arrived in the mail. Ordinarily, he wouldn’t have opened the envelope, but the customer had just called asking to change the specifications from those he’d written on his original request, which, unfortunately, included a variety of acronyms. Because Arden was too confused to make heads or tails of the order, he was forced to tell the customer he’d call him back later.

  “I assume you’ve kumme for this.” Arden pushed the rest of the mail across the desk toward Rachel. He st
ood and put his utensils into his lunch bag, which he dropped into the bottom desk drawer, and then he strode across the work area toward the sawhorses.

  Rachel scampered in front of him. Peering up into his eyes, she clasped her hands beneath her chin and said, “Neh, I’m here to apologize, Arden. I’m so sorry for saying you seemed nervous the other day. And for calling attention to your stutter and the fact you mixed up the directions. I promise I wasn’t making fun of you. I had no idea you have dyslexia.”

  Arden couldn’t believe his ears. “Dyslexia? Who told you I have dyslexia?”

  “Your mamm. She didn’t use that word, but she told me about your challenges reading and writing. And about how you mix up letters—”

  Arden didn’t think it was possible to feel more embarrassed than he’d felt yesterday. But to discover his mother had discussed his...his so-called challenges with Rachel was too degrading for him to bear graciously. “So you diagnosed me with dyslexia? I thought a specialist had to do that. I thought there were tests involved. Or are you so uniquely qualified you can diagnose a person at a glance?”

  Rachel’s nostrils were turning pink, and her chin quivered. “Neh, you’re right. I don’t know for certain you have dyslexia. I just, I—I—I—”

  “You’re stuttering now. Is that because you have dyslexia?”

  “Arden, I don’t blame you for being angry at me, but I’m trying to make amends. I’m very sorry.” Tears spilled from her eyes, but Arden was relentless. It was as if he was taking out all of the frustration and humiliation and fear of failure from the past nearly thirty years of his life on Rachel.

  “What are you crying about? Does it t-take you t-ten minutes to read a simple passage from the Bible? How many t-times do you have to check your s-spelling for errors? Do you constantly w-worry you wr-wrote down a product code wr-wrong? Has anyone ever refused you a job or called y-you lazy when y-you were trying your hardest?” Arden was utterly exasperated that he couldn’t even tell Rachel off without stammering. He ended by leaning forward and glaring at her as he asked, “Do your peers think you’re stupid?”

  She passed her arm across her face to wipe her tears away. “Sometimes, jah.”

  “Ha!” Arden scoffed, picking up a saw. “You? I doubt it.”

  “Jah, me,” Rachel said, tapping her chest. “Not to the degree you’ve experienced, not even close, but I do know what it’s like to try to prove myself to my peers. To know they think I’m not quite bright enough for them. To feel as if I don’t measure up.”

  “That’s a self-confidence issue. I have an actual problem with my abilities.” He balanced a board across the two sawhorses.

  “That might be true to a degree, Arden, but despite your struggles, you’re one of the smartest, most creative people I’ve ever met. You’d have to be, to design such beautiful, unique sheds.” Rachel gestured toward the side wall of the workshop. “You memorized where everything on every one of those shelves is. You retain more information in your head than I can capture in a logbook. And you knew exactly what questions to ask your mamm when I was trying to get to the bottom of what was triggering her skin discoloration. I didn’t—and I’m trained in that kind of thing. It put me to shame.”

  As much as he wanted to believe Rachel meant what she said, Arden wasn’t going to be fooled twice. “Jah? If that’s what you really think, why did you tell someone on the phone how dumm I am, especially compared to Toby?”

  “I never said such a thing! You must have misheard—oh.” Rachel suddenly interrupted herself. She looked away, chewing her lip; Arden knew it. Despite what she’d just professed, she couldn’t deny she’d called him stupid. “I didn’t say you were dumm. I said you weren’t that dull and—”

  “So I should feel c-complimented because you said I’m not quite as stupid as you first thought?” Arden picked up the saw and began vigorously cutting into the board, his back to her.

  “Listen to me, would you?” she shouted over the noise. “My roommate asked if you were acting morose because that was my original impression of you. But later, on the phone, I told her you weren’t as dull as all that—dull, not dumb—meaning, you weren’t so dreary. So morose.”

  Arden stopped sawing. He wanted to trust Rachel was telling the truth so badly his chest ached. He turned to face her. “You did?”

  “Jah, I did.” She added ruefully, “Although you’re being so nasty right now I might change my mind again.”

  “Don’t,” he said, setting down the saw. He took both of her hands in his. “Please don’t change your mind. I’m sorry. I—I—I’ve been trying to keep m-my difficulty a secret for so long. When y-you n-noticed it, I felt so... I thought you were being condescending. That you were looking down your n-nose at me.”

  “I could never look down my nose at you, Arden! I have nothing but deep respect and admiration for you.”

  He gently tugged her fingers, pulling her closer until they were only inches apart. “That makes two of us. I mean, I think that highly of you, too.” His mouth went dry, and he licked his lips as she tilted her chin upward.

  * * *

  Rachel’s legs turned to butter, and she felt her face flush beneath Arden’s unflinching gaze. His eyes were bluer than blue, like the first patch of clear sky after a storm. As much as she wanted him to kiss her, Rachel couldn’t let that happen—for his sake, more than hers. She forced herself to take a step backward and then she slid her hands from his grasp. He nodded in silent agreement and rubbed the perspiration from his forehead with the back of his hand.

  Not two seconds later, the door creaked open. Arden jerked his head to the side, and Rachel spun around to see Jaala Flaud, the deacon’s wife. Wow, that was close! Rachel thought, but her relief was short lived. Uh-oh. She must be here to inform Arden the deacon and bishop want to speak to him about associating with me. Or worse, to suggest I leave Serenity Ridge.

  “So this is where you’ve been hiding!” Jaala exclaimed. “Rachel Blank, kumme give me a hug.”

  For an instant Rachel was too stunned to move, but then she nearly flew across the room into Jaala’s open arms. As the deacon’s wife enveloped her, Rachel inhaled the trace scent of nutmeg and cloves on her clothing. The fragrance of my girlhood, she thought, knowing Jaala must have made her renowned spice cake with cream cheese frosting that morning. Rachel whisked a tear from her cheek before letting her go.

  Sizing Rachel up, Jaala remarked, “You look more like your mamm than ever. It is so gut to see you, but why did I have to hear about your arrival from Eva Renno? Nobody told me Ivan was out of the hospital, either.”

  “I’m sorry,” Rachel replied. And I’m sorry for assuming you wouldn’t wilkom me back or visit my bruder while I was here, too. “I assumed Colin or Hadassah would have told you.”

  “Ah, well, that doesn’t matter now. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do. Will you join Abram and me for supper tonight? A few other young people will be there, too. There’s plenty of cake for everyone. Arden, you’re wilkom to kumme, too.”

  Rachel hesitated. “I’d love to, but I’m concerned about leaving Ivan—”

  “I’ll stay with him,” Arden interjected.

  “It’s settled, then. We’ll eat at six.” Jaala linked arms with Rachel and started for the door. “Kumme with me while I visit Ivan. I figured since I’m one of the first to learn he’s home, I’d better bring him a big vat of supp, and I need help carrying it in from the buggy.”

  Grateful but amused because Grace had already brought them so much soup they’d be eating it into next week, Rachel flashed a smile over her shoulder at Arden. When he winked and placed a finger to his lips, she wistfully thought, That’s not the only secret we’ll have to keep to ourselves.

  Chapter Ten

  “How is Ivan?” Rachel asked Arden when she returned from the gathering at Jaala’s house. “Did he do his deep breathing exercises?”

/>   “Jah. But he’s tuckered out. He went to bed an hour ago.”

  “He needs as much rest as he can get. I meant to tell you I have to take him to a follow-up appointment tomorrow, so I’ll only be in the workshop in the morning.”

  “That’s fine. So, did you enjoy your visit?”

  “It was wunderbaar. I met two couples—Maria and Otto Mast, and Sadie and Levi Swarey.”

  “Did you meet the Swareys’ kinner, David and Elizabeth, too?”

  “Jah.” Rachel giggled. “I had to remove a tick from David’s scalp. Sadie was concerned he’ll get Lyme disease, but I could tell by the tick’s color and size it was a male and males don’t transmit—Oh, I’m doing it again. I keep forgetting other people aren’t as fascinated by these things as I am.”

  It occurred to Arden that Rachel hadn’t meant to lecture Eva or to show off the other day—she was in the habit of sharing knowledge that was interesting to her and potentially helpful to others. “You’re a natural teacher.”

  “Denki. Patient education is one of my favorite parts of nursing. They educate me by sharing what they’ve experienced, too.” Rachel’s voice lost its sparkle when she added, “Unfortunately, there’s not much time to build relationships with patients in the clinic. We move ’em in and out. I spend more time entering data into their electronic health records than talking with the patients.”

  “Will that change when you become a nurse practitioner?”

  “Ha! I’ll probably have even less time.”

  “Yet becoming a nurse practitioner is what you want to do?”

  “Jah, I suppose.”