Rachel's Dream Read online

  Also by Lisa Jones Baker

  The Hope Chest of Dreams Series

  Rebecca’s Bouquet

  Annie’s Recipe

  Rachel’s Dream

  Anthologies

  The Amish Christmas Kitchen

  (with Kelly Long and Jennifer Beckstrand)

  The Amish Christmas Candle

  (with Kelly Long and Jennifer Beckstrand)

  Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

  RACHEL’S DREAM

  Lisa Jones Baker

  ZEBRA BOOKS

  KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

  http://www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  ZEBRA BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2017 by Lisa Jones Baker

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.

  If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  Zebra and the Z logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  ISBN: 978-1-4201-4156-6

  eISBN-13: 978-1-4201-4157-3

  eISBN-10: 1-4201-4157-0

  VD1_1

  Table of Contents

  Also by

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Teaser chapter

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  To my favorite people,

  John and Marcia Baker,

  who raised me in a loving,

  Christian home.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  First and foremost, I thank my Lord and Savior for blessing me with publication after twenty-four years of prayers to see my work in print. I’m tremendously grateful to my kind, loving reading specialist mother, Marcia, for taking me to the library every weekend during my youth and also for listening to me read my own stories out loud for over twenty-four years.

  Huge appreciation to Dr. Jennifer Ostrom, DVM, for answering medical questions and sharing her valuable expertise. My gratitude to computer expert and sister extraordinaire, Beth Zehr, for taking on my challenges day and night, and to writer Lisa Norato, confidante, critique partner, and true friend for playing a significant part in my writing journey for over two decades. I can’t forget Gary Kerr, Brittany, Brooke, and Doug for assisting with technical issues at a moment’s notice. Huge appreciation to Geek Squad expert Elizabeth Ray in Bloomington, Illinois.

  Over the past decade, numerous individuals in Arthur, Illinois, have contributed greatly to my quest for publication. These amazing folks have answered questions, related stories, and even had me into their homes for dinner, further inspiring me to write meaningful stories. I have been fortunate to have had hundreds of authors in the RWA diligently critique my work, encourage me, and help me to hone my writing, especially author Gina Welborn, who picked Rebecca’s Bouquet from a contest and referred me to my fabulous agent, Tamela Hancock Murray. Thank you! My deepest appreciation to New York Times best-selling author Joan Wester Anderson for helping me to launch my debut story, Rebecca’s Bouquet, and for rooting for me to succeed. Of course, I couldn’t write these novels without the invaluable input from my Amish go-to girl, who prefers to remain anonymous while loyally reading my stories, cover to cover. You have my full respect, admiration, and fascination. Thanks to Amber Kauffman, former executive director, Illinois Amish Interpretive Center. Last, but not least, I’m extremely blessed to work with my wonderful editor, Selena James, publicist Jane Nutter, and everyone at Kensington who has played a part in the production of this book.

  Chapter One

  Her situation required immediate attention. In Old Sam’s barn, Rachel wrung her hands together and poured out her great fear of losing Cinnamon. She sat back in the chair opposite Sam’s workbench and let out a deep, impatient breath.

  While she awaited a response, the late May breeze floated in through the large open doors. Every once in a while, they creaked when the wind moved them.

  Rachel could hear Sam’s horse, Ginger, clomp her hooves as she stepped from her stall to the pasture. The pleasant scent of wood filled Sam’s work area. Birds chirped from the upper window by the hayloft.

  Finally, Old Sam met her gaze before carving into wood that would become another hope chest. The widower was well-known for his hope chests. Of course, many could put boards together, but his special talent lay in creating personalized etchings on the oak lids.

  His voice was thoughtful, serious. Rachel sat up straighter. “Young one, we never like to see our horses sick. I’m glad that Dr. Zimmerman’s coming tomorrow. I’ve heard he has a special knack for healing.”

  Sam gave a slow shake of his head. “Now, I know he’s fresh out of veterinary school. That would usually give me pause, but in my opinion, his youth works to his advantage. Not to mention that he was mentored by Doc Stevens. You know how word spreads quickly around here.”

  Rachel grinned, because what Sam mentioned was an understatement.

  “According to the Wagler family, this Doc Zimmerman is marvelous. There wasn’t much hope for Martha’s cat until Zimmerman treated him. Now he’s as good as new.”

  Rachel breathed in relief. She’d heard the young vet’s name, and much more. That Zimmerman was a blessing to the sick. And that he was as good as or better than the well-respected Doc Stevens, who’d gone to the Lord not long ago.

  “The good doctor has helped Rebecca’s and Annie’s horses.”

  Rachel knew that to be true. Rebecca Conrad and Annie Miller were friends. Rachel shared Old Sam with the two girls, who also took care of him. His wife, Esther, had been like a second mother to the trio. When she’d passed, Rebecca, Annie, and Rachel had returned that kindness to Old Sam Beachy.

  Now Rachel wasn’t sure what she would do without the widower. She went to him for his wise advice and to listen to his horse-and-buggy stories. Sam had made Rachel, Annie, and Rebecca very special hope chests to store their private thoughts in. And inside Rachel’s was her dream.

  *

  Dr. Jarred Zimmerman took in the Standardbred. He squatted before the horse, and his heart nearly melted. With great tenderness and affection, he stroked the beautiful cinnamon-colored face.

  As he did so, the scent of fresh straw filled his nostrils. He swatted away a fly while the early June breeze cooled the inside of the Kauffmans’ barn in the country between Arthur and Arcola, Illinois. He glanced at the healthy filly
that had been purchased to replace Cinnamon while he was down.

  Jarred stood and turned to the girl who’d introduced herself as Rachel. He motioned to the healthy animal. “What’s her name?”

  “Paula.”

  He lifted an amused brow. “Paula?”

  Rachel shrugged. “Yes, Doctor. Daddy bought her at the auction, and that was what they called her.”

  The horse whinnied and stomped her foot before proceeding outside to the pasture. Jarred laughed. “You’re a beauty, that’s for sure. But right now, your pal needs me. Sorry about that.”

  As Jarred stood, he could hear hammering in the neighboring building. He knew from his phone conversation with Rachel’s dad that he was a woodworker who also farmed the land behind their home.

  Jarred glanced at Rachel. It was impossible not to note the distressed expression on her face. Her eyes held a silent plea to get Cinnamon well. A tan halo around her pupils accented large blue-green irises.

  Even with her beautiful heart-shaped face and high cheekbones, the halo did a fearful dance. Jarred was committed to saving her horse, but because of her obvious love for the gelding, he also yearned to put her mind at ease.

  A kapp covered light brown hair that was pulled back tightly off her face. Remembering his purpose, he turned his attention to the helpless creature in front of him. Jarred ran a compassionate hand over Cinnamon’s mane and spoke with conviction.

  “Don’t you worry, boy. I’m here to help. Just bear with me, and before ya know it, you’ll be pulling that buggy again for Rachel and her family.”

  He turned to Rachel and smiled a little. “I fell in love with this guy years ago. Do you know that I even helped Doc Stevens deliver him?”

  “Oh!”

  Jarred furrowed his brow and softened his voice. “First thing, we’ve gotta get some weight back on those bones.”

  His optimistic words were directed to the gelding, but also to Rachel. From experience, he’d learned that the human’s mental suffering needed almost as much attention as the sick animal.

  He knew all too well that watching their loved ones suffer made the owners extremely vulnerable. So in his opinion, there were two in need of healing: Cinnamon and Rachel.

  Ensuring that Rachel maintained her optimism was part of his recovery plan. Horses were exceptionally sensitive, especially to mood.

  Now was the time to voice that. After glancing back at her, he offered a soft pat of encouragement on Cinnamon’s face. “Getting you well isn’t gonna be easy. But be patient. Your recovery will take all three of us putting out one hundred and ten percent. So you’ve got to promise to do your part, okay, boy?”

  Not expecting a response, he turned to Rachel. “How about you?”

  A quick, eager nod followed.

  Jarred smiled in satisfaction, but the corners of his lips made a sudden drop when he turned back to Cinnamon. “I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but Cinnamon survived a grave illness at birth.”

  He heard Rachel’s surprised breath.

  Jarred rose to his feet. “But he’s a fighter! Time to get down to business.” After checking the horse’s eyes, ears, nose, and mouth, he reached for his bag while asking if the animal had been anywhere and Cinnamon’s history of eating, drinking, and slowing down to develop a time line.

  After Rachel’s quick responses, Jarred offered a nod. “First thing we’ve gotta do is check his temp.” He unzipped his medical pouch. “You mind giving me a hand?”

  “Of course not.”

  “First, let’s tie him.”

  When her eyes reflected confusion, he explained. “Not that he’s feeling good enough to go anywhere, but just as a precautionary measure.”

  She completed the task.

  “Now, stand here.” He motioned. She moved next to Cinnamon and stroked his head tenderly.

  Rachel continued whispering to Cinnamon as Jarred removed and checked the thermometer. He gave the stick a second glance, shook his head, and frowned.

  Rachel waited for him to speak.

  “Just as I suspected. He’s running a fever.”

  The corners of Rachel’s lips dropped. While he observed her reaction, his heart warmed. A combination of compassion and determination floated through him.

  He supposed that his immediate bond with this young girl was because of her obvious adoration for this beautiful animal that had once stolen his own heart.

  Not only was his heart at stake, but Rachel’s was, too. As he watched the expression in her eyes that was a strong mix of fear and hope, he vowed to pay extra care and attention to this special opportunity. He couldn’t let this unusually kindhearted girl down.

  “Just so you know, a slight fever’s okay. You’re probably already aware that horses have trouble getting rid of body heat. A hundred is normal for them, but this guy’s temp is over a hundred and three. We’re looking at all the symptoms of the upper respiratory virus goin’ around.”

  His cell beeped and he glanced at the message from his next appointment.

  “Will he be okay?”

  The soft, worried tone pulled his attention from his phone. He shoved it back into its holder on his belt. Jarred’s pulse quickened as he considered how to respond.

  What Cinnamon suffered from appeared to be the very same virus that had claimed the lives of numerous horses in the area, but her question was posed with such innocence.

  Jarred stood, slapped the dust from his hands, and shoved them into his jeans pockets to hook his thumbs over the tops.

  When their gazes met, he could see that she was waiting for him to say something. He cleared his throat and forced a confident smile. “Cinnamon’s definitely struggling. Unfortunately, there’s no good vaccine for the illness, but we can do some things to try to jump-start him.”

  He pressed his cheek against the gelding’s long face and whispered, “I’ll do everything I can for you, you know that. Do you remember when you were born?” Not expecting an answer, Jarred went on. “I doubt it. But I’ll never forget. We beat the odds then, and we’ll do it again.”

  He straightened his shoulders and lifted his chin confidently. “We’re gonna fix this guy up.”

  Rachel’s cheeks glowed with happiness. Again, his heart melted at the vulnerable expression that was so genuine and sincere. She stepped beside him. When she spoke, a combination of gratitude and shyness edged her voice. “You can’t imagine how happy I am you’re here. I’ve heard all about you and how you studied under Dr. Stevens.”

  She hesitated. “I’m sorry for your loss. He was a great man.”

  Jarred nodded in appreciation. “Yeah, he was. And a good friend. True animal lovers are few and far between, Rachel. He was the most unselfish individual I’ve ever met. We docs are constantly learning, but his knowledge was unmatched. Not to mention his open mind. I would be honored to be half as good as he was.”

  Rachel’s eyes lightened. “He helped us a number of times. He was special.”

  The recollection of Doc Stevens prompted Jarred to chuckle. “The man had a house full of cats and dogs.” Jarred grinned. “I can’t tell you how many times he pulled over to the side of the road to rescue a stray. He always made it clear that he’d find them a good home.”

  The corners of his mouth pulled up even more. “He never did, ’cause he couldn’t part with them once he took them in.”

  Rachel giggled in amusement. “God must have been anxious to get him to heaven.”

  The statement made Jarred’s jaw drop in surprise. For several speechless moments, he considered another death, one even more personal than Tom Stevens’s.

  Ready to change the subject, he turned to Rachel and forced an optimistic tone. The girl who loved Cinnamon every bit as much as he did depended on him to make things right. And time was of the essence. He couldn’t let her down.

  Rachel shook her head. “He isn’t drinking water. He just kind of plays with it. You know, holds his face in it. And he won’t even eat sugar cubes.” Her ton
e filled with deep concern. “Usually, whenever he sees me, he begs for them.”

  She added, “You know, by licking my hand. He has a sweet tooth.” She lifted a brow apologetically. “Course, we can’t blame him for that.”

  He considered her statements and slapped his right palm against his left. “You mind giving me a hand?”

  “Of course not.”

  Within a short time, he had hosed Cinnamon down to lower his temp. Jarred followed with flunixin before giving fluids through a tube up Cinnamon’s nose, which was certain to be much easier than going through the mouth. He did this just long enough to deliver five gallons with electrolytes.

  When his tasks had been completed, Jarred zipped his bag shut and stepped closer to Rachel. He caught her staring at the scar on his neck.

  He decided to indulge her curiosity. “When I was a teen, I was thrown from a horse.”

  She gasped.

  He chuckled. “It’s all right. In fact, as often as I rode, I’m lucky it didn’t happen more than once.” He went on. “I grew up on a ranch not far from here.”

  “What was it like?”

  When he darted her a curious look, she jumped in.

  “Growing up on a ranch.”

  As they walked from the barn to his truck, he pushed out a sigh. What was it like? Was I happy? Did I miss my parents?

  When he turned, he saw the eager expression in her eyes and softened his voice. “I loved being with animals. Horses, especially. And we had lots of them.”

  He drew in a deep, uncertain breath before continuing. “Rachel, this virus won’t make things easy, but I know with all of my heart that God will help us.”

  “I know. Old Sam—he’s my friend—he always tells me to look at the glass as half-full. And my parents have always stressed how important it is to have faith.” She paused before lowering her voice to a tone that hinted at shyness and uncertainty. “How about your folks, Jarred? Obviously, you’ve been raised with love. Otherwise, how could you do so many wonderful things for animals?”