Rachel's Dream Page 8

  *

  I have to do something to ease Jarred’s anguish. That evening, after Rachel washed and dried the dishes, she went upstairs to her room and closed the door.

  She stood over her beloved hope chest and eyed the lid with special appreciation. While she did so, the pleasant aroma of Mamma’s peach cobbler filled the air. Rachel gave a happy lift of her brows.

  She pressed her lips in a straight line while her thoughts migrated to Jarred’s devastating confession this morning. Since he’d related what haunted him, she’d thought of nothing else all day. She lifted her head to look at the off-white ceiling as frustration stabbed at her from every direction. She planted her hands firmly on the wooden chest and shook her head.

  “Old Sam,” she muttered, “I can’t wait to talk to you. I’m going through something I’ve never experienced in my life, and I don’t know how to help Jarred.”

  With that, she reached into the chest and pulled out her journal and pen. As she stepped to her desk, she considered the day and all that had happened. She still couldn’t understand Jarred’s parents sending him away.

  She gave a sad shake of her head. Finding a comfortable position in her chair, she flipped to the first open page of her journal and drummed the tip of her pen against the blank paper.

  Disbelief swept through her as she struggled to accept the truth. Jarred’s brother was dead. Jarred believed he’d been responsible in some way and that his mother and father had blamed him.

  Rachel’s heartstrings pulled at her until an ache pinched her chest. She considered Jarred and blew out a deep, thoughtful breath. Already, she counted him as a lifelong friend. She’d become close to him the day he’d comforted her. There was something so gentle and kind about him.

  She considered their moments together and treasured them. Even though she hadn’t known him long, she didn’t doubt that she could trust him. His love for her horse bonded the young vet to her in the strongest way imaginable. Automatically, she considered her great dream and imagined Jarred as part of it. Then she rolled her eyes.

  She looked down at her journal, not sure where to start. She checked to ensure there were plenty of blank pages because she would need a lot of space to sort out her thoughts.

  She closed her eyes to say a quick, soft prayer. “Dear God, Jarred needs help. So do I. What happened in his family can never be fixed. But, Lord, there must be a way to comfort him. Please help me to share Your abounding love with him. Amen.”

  After recording the date in the upper right-hand corner, the conversation she’d had with the veterinarian floated through her mind.

  She put pen to paper.

  Cinnamon’s better. I hope Daddy shows more patience and gives him time to recover. The threat that he won’t looms over me every day like a rain cloud. Thank goodness Jarred will keep my horse if that happens. But Daddy hasn’t actually given permission for that to happen.

  She breathed in a deep, happy sigh while she envisioned Jarred’s dark eyes. But she no longer wondered what was behind the turbulence. She knew.

  She pressed her lips together and continued.

  I learned why Jarred didn’t discuss his family at first. And the reason they gave him away. It’s hard to believe any parent would desert their four-year-old. I’m only eighteen, but I know that’s not what God would want.

  Jarred blames himself for what happened. It’s a torture I can’t imagine carrying. He told me that Matt was an animal lover, too.

  I believe in my heart that’s why Jarred became a vet. It’s also the root of his dream to someday start a shelter in his brother’s name. Jarred puts all of his hurt and pain into healing. So in a way, what he’s doing connects him to Matt.

  There has to be a way for him to deal with his suffering. He’s doing his best to help Cinnamon feel good again. I must owe him something in return.

  But I’m really not out to make him feel better just because I want to repay him. It’s because I like him.

  She stood and stepped to the window, where she breathed in the smell of freshly mowed grass. And then she realized something as potent as Jarred’s confession that caused her heart to skip a beat: Is it more than that? Am I in love?

  *

  The following evening, Rachel dried dishes after Mamma had placed them in the strainer.

  “When’s the vet coming again, honey?”

  “Tomorrow.” As Rachel ran a dry towel over the plates, she smiled at her mother. “Jarred’s wonderful with Cinnamon. And with all of the prayers between us and Old Sam, there’s no way God won’t heal my horse.”

  Mamma stopped what she was doing and frowned. “You’re calling the doctor by his first name now?”

  Rachel shrugged before offering a nod. “Jah. He asked me to.”

  Rachel didn’t miss the look of disapproval. “Mamma, you must know that any friend of Cinnamon’s is a good friend of mine.”

  Mamma swished her hand around the bowl to make more suds. As she dunked a glass in clean rinse water, she sighed. “Honey, your daddy and I know how much you love that horse. But I wish you didn’t become so attached to everything we bring to the barn.”

  Rachel tensed. The tone of Mamma’s voice was far from optimistic. Perhaps her pessimistic signal was due to fatigue. Rachel hoped that was the case.

  Rachel stuck up for her horse. “I love Cinnamon so much, Mamma. I can’t wait till he’s well and I can do buggy rides with him. And I want Hannah’s baby to take rides with us. Cinnamon loves little ones. You know that every time my nieces and nephews come, he lets them pet him.”

  A long silence passed while her mom furrowed her eyebrows. “Rachel, your father and I are concerned that you’re overlooking how sick he really is.”

  Rachel frowned.

  “What I’m saying is … We’re worried about Cinnamon, too. We don’t like seeing animals in pain. You don’t want that either, do you?”

  Trying to hide her disappointment, Rachel kept her tone even. She didn’t want to broach the subject of putting her horse down again. She couldn’t bear the thought. And she was sure she would never convince her parents to view Cinnamon as part of the family. She’d tried.

  “Mamma, I don’t know how you could even go there. He’s so much better.” Rachel recalled Jarred’s offer and changed her tone to a more enthusiastic one. “Daddy said he’d think about sending Cinnamon to Jarred’s.”

  Mamma’s eyes looked tired. “We need to be realistic, dear. Sometimes, we want our pets to live forever. Of course, that’s impossible. Besides, this nasty virus goin’ around … we were talking about it after church, and there’s not one horse around here that’s survived it. We’ve let this go on too long.”

  Rachel’s heart ached. She longed for Mamma to have faith, like she did. And Jarred, too.

  “Mamma, Old Sam’s always tellin’ me to look at my glass as half-full because God knows how strong our faith is when we ask him for something important.”

  She paused to consider her words carefully because she sensed that her parents were on the verge of giving up and she needed them to root for Cinnamon.

  She made a sound of disapproval with her lips and shook her head. “Mamma, I hate to tell you this, but you’re looking at this as a half-empty glass.”

  Mamma’s lips curved into an amused smile. “I’m sorry, Rachel. You are the eternal optimist, aren’t you?”

  “That’s what I get for hangin’ out with Old Sam.” Rachel followed with his miraculous story about Strawberry.

  Afterward, Mamma offered a thoughtful nod. “I remember that. Old Sam has such a kind heart. And Esther …” Mamma’s eyes glistened with emotion at her name. “There wasn’t an animal she’d turn away. Bless her.”

  The tone of Rachel’s voice was a combination of desperation and disbelief. “Cinnamon needs time.”

  Mamma continued the task at hand. Rachel looked out the window in front of her, taking in the simple view of deep green pine trees that lined the lane leading to the blacktop country roa
d. Chickens scouted the yard looking for food. The empty buggy sat next to the barn where Cinnamon used to look over the fence and eat sugar cubes from Rachel’s hand.

  Rachel’s shoulders sank as she took in Paula. An uncomfortable sensation swept up her spine and to the back of her neck. At that moment, a negative thought hit her. She silently chastised herself for even thinking the glass was not half-full. Old Sam would be ashamed of her, and she was not proud of it.

  “Rachel, I think it might help if you see this from a more logical perspective. We need a horse for transportation, and Paula’s healthy. Horses … they don’t live as long as we humans do. You’ve got to know in your heart that things aren’t looking good for our Cinnamon.”

  Rachel tensed. Determined that Cinnamon not be in the “failed” club, she met her role model’s gaze.

  “Okay. So we need a working horse. We’ve got one. But I’m still counting on Cinnamon to survive. And when he does …” She flung her hands in the air. “We’ll just have an extra horse. I’ll make sure they’re both well cared for.”

  Rachel slapped her palms on her thighs as though an important decision had been made. “We can always use a backup for transportation!”

  Her mother stayed quiet. Rachel wished she could erase the dismal expression on her mother’s face. Why is Mamma acting like this? I’ve got to convince her to be optimistic.

  “Mamma, we can’t control what happens. But in the meantime, Jarred’s healing Cinnamon. I know things don’t look promising, but with God’s help, anything’s possible.”

  She paused and lowered her voice. “Now … Could I ask you a question?”

  “Sure.”

  Rachel drew in a breath. “Have you been thinking of names for Hannah’s baby?”

  A long silence ensued while Mamma ran a wet rag over the countertop. She stopped and met Rachel’s gaze. A smile lifted the corners of her lips.

  “Your father and I have been talking about it. We’re thinking Jacob, if it’s a boy, and Martha, if it’s a girl. Honey, we’re so blessed. God surely is looking after us. And someday, Rachel …”

  “Mamma?”

  Her mother said affectionately, “Someday we’ll be choosing names for your little ones. And I’m sure they’ll love horses every bit as much as you do.”

  Chapter Eight

  The following day, Jarred and Rachel followed their normal routine with Cinnamon. Rachel considered her parents’ name choices and lifted an eyebrow skeptically. She had been thinking more along the lines of Eli or Mary. But in the end, her sister and brother-in-law would have the final say.

  Rachel’s thoughts were interrupted as their rooster chased a chicken into a stall. She could hear their milking cows moo in the pasture. A goat stopped in front of her and regarded her with curiosity. Rachel ran her hand over its head before it rushed outside.

  She focused her attention on Jarred, who did a double-take at the thermometer. Rachel looked at him with hope.

  “You won’t believe this.”

  Rachel hugged her hands to her hips and rocked once on her tiptoes. “What?”

  “His temp is down half a point!”

  Rachel’s heart pumped excitedly. She jumped up and clapped her hands. Relief swept down her arms, and she interlaced her fingers before stretching and straightening them. Happiness flooded her heart, and she wanted to shout with excitement. Her automatic reaction was to hug Jarred. Of course, that wasn’t appropriate. Still, gratitude abounded for the quiet, kind man who cared about her horse’s recovery as much as she did.

  They hosed Cinnamon and toweled water from his body. Jarred finished up with Cinnamon while Rachel replaced dirty straw with fresh bedding.

  She swept the old into a pile to the side. While she continued to stuff it into boxes, she eyed Jarred and contemplated what she’d written in her journal. That she liked him a lot and that she’d even wondered if she loved him. She immediately forced that thought from her mind. Still, the realization warmed her cheeks.

  The sun coming in from the roof windows landed on his eyes, revealing those familiar tan rings around his pupils.

  “You’re a born healer, Jarred.”

  “Thanks for your vote of confidence.”

  “It’s true. When I watch you with Cinnamon, I’ve no doubt why God planted you on this earth.” Her voice expressed her gratefulness. “Thank you, Jarred.”

  For several moments, his gaze locked with hers. She took advantage of the opportunity to study his face. His expression was a combination of surprise and gratitude.

  “A healer.” He offered a quick nod. “Now, that’s a compliment!” Surprise edged his voice.

  Rachel lifted a brow in disbelief. He didn’t know what a blessing he was!

  “Jarred, I’ve never met anyone as modest as you. I wish your parents knew what a wonderful person you’ve become.”

  The moment the words came out, she regretted them. The happiness on his face evaporated like steam from a teakettle. The look that replaced it was a combination of sadness and lack of confidence, like he’d done something wrong.

  She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

  He pushed out a deep breath and gave a conceding roll of his eyes. “I don’t think it would matter if they knew, Rachel. What’s done is done.”

  A sense of helplessness stabbed Rachel in the chest until it ached. She was responsible for Jarred’s sudden change in demeanor. It was her responsibility to change it. She carefully considered her words.

  “Jarred, no matter what you think, what happened to your brother was never your fault.” She motioned to the empty bales. “Can we talk?”

  He lowered his gaze and nodded. “Of course.”

  She claimed the spot next to him and hooked her hands together on her lap before running her fingers across her apron to brush off some straw. “I’ve been thinking a lot about your situation. And I’m sorry. But …”

  He eyed her with a combination of curiosity and skepticism.

  “For what it’s worth, you’ve got Cinnamon and me. We’ll always be here for you, Jarred.”

  He blinked at the light coming in from the windows. “Know what I think?” He raised his chin.

  “What?”

  “That people give me way too much credit. Of course I pray for God to make the right decisions for my patients. So the healing I’m able to do …” He shrugged and motioned to the sky. “It all comes from above.”

  She tried to suppress her amusement.

  “What?”

  She laughed. “You’re modest, too,” she said, and added, “To be honest, Jarred, I haven’t dealt with sickness very much. But I’ve known people in the hospital. In church, we prayed for them. I’ve been taught that God has His own plan for each of us, but I’m saying strong prayers that He will have my good friend here”—she paused to clear an emotional knot from her throat and to wave a hand at Cinnamon—“pulling our buggy and eating sugar cubes.”

  She nodded. “Every night, when I write in my journal, I end by writing a special blessing God has given me. And I list good things in my life.” She paused to pluck a lone piece of straw off her navy sleeve.

  “And that picks your spirits up when you’re down?”

  “Uh-huh. And that way, when something bad happens, I realize that my life still is amazing.”

  “Is that how you deal with Cinnamon’s illness?”

  The question made Rachel’s jaw drop. She’d never really thought of it like that, but finally she nodded. “In a way, yes. But, Jarred …”

  “What?”

  “There’s something that bothers me. It’s worse than Cinnamon being sick.”

  The halos around his eyes darkened. A sense of temporary relief loosened her shoulders. Her tenseness went away. She had his ear.

  She decided to approach him with her concerns. After taking a deep breath, she sat very still, crossing her legs at the ankles while she poured out her sadness at what had happened to his family. “It bothers me so much
, Jarred, that you could even begin to believe you were at fault for what happened to your brother.”

  He looked down at the floor and tapped the toe of his boot against the cement, flexed his fingers and released them until finally resting his palms on the bale of straw.

  As Rachel considered what she’d just confided, she wondered if she’d said too much. She leaned forward and rested her elbows on her thighs while she awaited a response.

  Jarred’s voice broke her reverie. She glanced up, and their eyes locked. At that moment, the beat of her heart quickened to an uncomfortable speed. To her dismay, her emotions whirled at the speed of the blades of their battery-powered kitchen fan.

  But his eyes … she was absorbed in the deep, mysterious colors and the barely visible tan halo around them. She was fully aware that she was staring, and that what she felt at the moment was definitely inappropriate. But what was it? An attraction? Or was it true love?

  As she contemplated her feelings, color warmed her cheeks again. She looked away, trying to compose herself, to not feel anything for Jarred that she wasn’t supposed to. Because attraction was wrong, wasn’t it? She’d ask Old Sam. She didn’t dare approach Mamma with her question. It would raise great concern, and the last thing she wanted was to worry her parents about her and Jarred.

  “Rachel?”

  The low pitch of his voice made her turn so she gazed at him again. This time, she forced a smile.

  “I’m thinking about what you’ve just told me.”

  Talking to him was so easy. And it had relieved her a bit to relate her huge sadness.

  “And there’s something I need to say.”

  She waited for him to continue. The expression on his face was so sincere. Serious. She turned closer to hear him.

  “I’ve never talked about Matt’s death to anyone but you. And I don’t regret it. In fact, opening up about what happened has lightened the burden I’ve carried for years. There’s something about you, Rachel.”

  He breathed in. “You’re a unique individual. And I don’t want to scare you, but you deserve my honesty.”

  Her heart did a somersault. What was he getting at? She straightened and pressed her palms harder against the straw.