Rachel's Dream Page 9

  “You’re on my mind more than you should be.”

  *

  That evening, Jarred crushed garlic and transferred the potent-smelling clove with veggies to his skillet. Giving the veggies a quick toss, he turned the burner on medium and made a quick call to leave a message for a colleague he’d come to know when Tom was alive. After Tom’s death, Jarred had stayed in contact with Joseph Conner, who Jarred referred to as Dr. Joe.

  Olive oil sizzled, and steam floated above the skillet. The delicious aroma of fried garlic filled the small kitchen. As he placed the lid on the pan, Rachel popped into his mind. He frowned. He’d embarrassed her when he’d confessed that he thought about her. Her cheeks had reddened. He’d noted her chest rising and falling more quickly. And she hadn’t responded.

  He pulled in an uncertain breath and glanced out the window to calm himself, but his property took second place to the beautiful Amish girl and her beloved horse. He silently scolded himself for his forwardness. Still, he’d meant every word. Even if he’d shared too much.

  As he’d watched and listened to her, he’d taken note of everything. High cheekbones. Large, hopeful eyes. Her generous mouth and flawless skin. He wondered what she’d look like with her hair down.

  The more he talked with her, the more he respected and admired her. She wanted to help him cope with Matt’s death, and he yearned to open up to her. He really liked her.

  At that thought, he silently chastised himself. Don’t go there. Rachel’s world and yours are as different as night and day. She’s open and loving. I could never allow my heart to love like she does. It broke when my parents gave me away, and it will never heal.

  Rachel is trusting. But I can’t blame her for that. In fact, I wish I had that innocence about me. Rachel’s from supportive parents who dote on her. Just the opposite of me.

  Jarred bit his lower lip and squeezed his eyes closed. Over the years, he’d shed enough tears to fill an ocean, and he’d silently vowed to never mourn again.

  I could never allow myself to love someone like she cares about her family and Old Sam. I couldn’t bear for my heart to break again. The people I depended on most in the world didn’t love me enough to raise me.

  The biggest healer, he’d found, was time—and helping four-legged souls that knew only loyalty. They’re innocent. Their love lasts a lifetime. Their hearts never fault.

  People, on the other hand, were fickle. Unpredictable. They changed their minds with the quick snap of two fingers, and just because they said something certainly didn’t mean they could be held to it.

  He gave a strong shake of his head and straightened, wondering if Rachel’s outlook would be like his if her parents had sent her away. For long moments, he pondered the question. A dull pain in his temples prompted him to press his palms against his forehead. He closed his eyes and massaged the sore area.

  He tossed the veggies when they sizzled and turned off the burner. His stomach growled.

  While he contemplated sharing his past with Rachel, his brother’s face popped into his head. He said a silent, urgent prayer. “Dear God, please heal me. Please forgive me and bless me with Your love.”

  His thoughts migrated to Cinnamon. The horse had improved, but not much. There was still hope. He recalled Matt’s love of horses. His dream to open a shelter for animals needing homes. Ironically, Jarrod would fit right in with the abandoned. Perhaps that’s why he bonded with them. They were powerless over who did and didn’t love them. Matt was the driving force that guided Jarred to protect everything needing love.

  Right now, Cinnamon was alive. Obviously, Rachel still didn’t realize the severity of the horse’s illness—or she wouldn’t admit it. That admission drew a frown. Cinnamon depended on him. So did Rachel.

  As he transferred the food to his plate, his thoughts lingered on her. He hadn’t been able to define what the girl had for him, but now he recognized it as faith. He straightened his shoulders and lifted his chin with a newfound confidence. No one had ever had such belief in him. Nobody had counted on him to such a high degree, and he cherished the feeling. He wouldn’t let her down. He couldn’t.

  At the table, he barely tasted the vegetables. When he finished his meal, he laid his plate and fork in the sink and stepped to the living room to turn on the evening news. He clicked the remote, but Rachel’s face lingered in his mind. As he glimpsed the picture of Matt on the end table, his eyes watered. He didn’t bother to wipe away the moisture.

  Matt wasn’t here on earth. But Rachel was. She was good for his soul. He knew it like he was sure of his scar. Without thinking, he ran a hand over the area on his neck. He would have to control his emotions before they grew, because feeling such a strong need for someone was risky. Especially for someone who wasn’t sure he deserved to be loved.

  *

  The following morning, Rachel swept Old Sam’s work area. A yawn escaped her, and she put a hand over her mouth. She had been up since four thirty to do chores. There were still more, but Mamma had given Rachel special permission to visit Sam.

  All the while, Buddy stayed at her heels and whimpered as Rachel tried out baby names. Finally, she glanced down at the attention-starved canine before turning her attention to Sam.

  “Have you ever thought about getting another dog?”

  Old Sam darted her a surprised expression.

  Rachel giggled, bending to kiss Buddy’s head. “Obviously, he doesn’t get enough TLC. Maybe it would be nice for him to have a pal.”

  Keeping his attention on his task, the corners of Sam’s lips lifted into a huge grin. “Unfortunately, that wouldn’t help.”

  Rachel gave the broom one last stroke before squatting to brush the wood chippings into the silver dustpan. As she stood, she pushed out a breath while Buddy followed her to the trash can in the corner of the barn.

  When they returned, she sat on the chair opposite Old Sam. She doubtfully lifted an eyebrow and rocked back and forth. “Why not?”

  Sam gave a decisive shake of his head before returning his knife to its spot in the nearby toolbox and rubbed his palms together. “Because Buddy’s a people dog.”

  Rachel considered the statement.

  “He doesn’t care for other canines.” Sam rolled his eyes. “Won’t give them the time of day.”

  Rachel laughed. “No?”

  “When Esther was alive, we kept a cocker spaniel while friends went out of town. Esther thought the company would be good for Buddy. But we were surprised.”

  “He didn’t like the spaniel?”

  “On the contrary. Whenever we paid attention to our guest, Buddy would vie for our time. I’d never seen anything like it. Finally, by the third day or so, he retreated into the corner of our living room and wouldn’t budge. We thought he was sick.”

  Rachel threw Buddy a pretend look of sympathy.

  “Had Doc Stevens take a look at him. Stevens told us there was nothing wrong, ’cept Buddy was depressed. When the couple picked up the spaniel, Buddy immediately returned to his old self.”

  Rachel laughed as Buddy wagged his tail. He whined and lifted his nose. In reaction, she stroked him behind the ears. He closed his eyes.

  “Animals are so smart, Old Sam. Sometimes it’s frustrating when people don’t see how loving and loyal they are. They don’t sin. And I’m sure God sends them straight to heaven.”

  “I agree with you. Is Cinnamon better?”

  The question prompted all sorts of things to float through Rachel’s mind. She longed to tell Old Sam so much, mostly, about Cinnamon’s doctor. She wanted Sam’s opinion, but she was afraid to talk to him about Jarred since the doctor wasn’t Amish. The last thing Rachel wanted was to worry Sam that she might not join their church.

  At the same time, this was her opportunity to converse with Old Sam about Cinnamon and her dad’s determination to put him down.

  Curiosity edged his voice. “What’s on your mind?”

  The creases around Sam’s eyes deepened with concern
. He stopped working and locked gazes with Rachel. Rachel finally let out a deep sigh and rested her hands on her lap, clasping her fingers together so tightly, her knuckles turned white.

  “Sam, something bothers me right now. I’m going to run it by you to hear what you would do.”

  “Let’s have it.”

  Rachel related her fear that her father would give up on Cinnamon.

  Sam spoke in a low tone while he worked. “Rachel, you have a heart for animals. That’s one of the things that makes you special. But unfortunately, there are some ’round here see them as a means to get work done.”

  He gave a sad shake of his head. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news. And I don’t know if there’s a solution to that.”

  A pigeon flew in and perched on the upper windowsill.

  “Fortunately, if Dad gives up, Jarred offered to take Cinnamon to his place to continue the recovery. But Dad didn’t commit one way or another.”

  A long silence ensued while Rachel realized another issue. She ached to tell someone. She decided to tell Sam what was on her mind. She trusted him.

  “Old Sam, I really like Jarred.”

  Sam frowned, and Rachel knew that it was too late to take back her words. It was no secret that Jarred wasn’t Amish. Nor was he what was expected of Rachel as an Amish girl.

  “You’re a responsible young woman, Rachel. And I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that your parents plan for you to join the church. And it’s what you want, too, I’m sure.”

  She raised a hand defensively and sat up straighter, pulling her feet closer to the chair. “Of course, Sam. But he loves my horse, which makes him a lifelong friend.”

  She paused. “But something bad happened to Jarred when he was young.” She drew in a breath. “Old Sam, how can I help him?”

  To her surprise, he chuckled and continued etching into the oak. “Young one, you’re determined to save the world. Cinnamon, now your doctor friend.”

  He shifted in his seat before continuing his work. “Rachel, you want to fix everything so there’s nothing but love and happiness.”

  After a lengthy pause, he lowered his voice. “But unfortunately, you can’t make everyone be like you. It sounds like this doctor is a good person, but I don’t know what has happened in his past.”

  She contemplated his response. Jarred had intended his past for her and her alone. But she was at a stop sign concerning helping him. She chose her words carefully.

  “Sam, just imagine that your mother and father gave you away when you were only four years old. That you believe you let them down, yet you want them back in your life.”

  She watched the corners of his lips drop into a disapproving frown. A long silence ensued while she considered Jarred’s devastating situation.

  Finally, Sam cleared his throat. “That’s a tough one, Rachel. Parents I know offer unconditional love to their children. So I would think that, if a person finds him or herself in this situation, the only thing that could bring him together with his folks is his own mother and father’s desire to be with him. They’re the ones to talk to.”

  *

  That evening, Rachel pulled her journal from her hope chest. The July warmth floated into her bedroom through the window. For a moment, she breathed in the summer scents. She’d always been fond of the smell of freshly mowed grass.

  She brushed a hand over the lid of her hope chest and took in with great appreciation the detail of the beautiful horse. She didn’t know how Sam was able to create such detail in wood. No flaws. It was as if the design had been imprinted with a stamper, like they used at the local post office, not physically etched with a hand and knife.

  While she stepped to her desk, she breathed in the light fragrance of her apple-scented candle. To her right, her kerosene flame illuminated the lined pages in front of her. The thought of holding a new baby prompted her to relax. But there were issues that needed her attention. After all, life was complex, unfortunately. She put black ink to paper.

  Tonight, I have a lot on my mind.

  She stopped and wondered what she was feeling for Jarred. The thought of him prompted a warm sensation in her chest. She’d decided it was best to not share more of it with Sam when she’d noticed the concern on his face and his reminder to join the church.

  As she contemplated Jarred and how she reacted to him, mentally and physically, she grabbed her feather duster. While she considered her dilemmas, she nervously stood and proceeded to the window, where she ran the duster over the sill. Quick steps took her back to her desk, where she laid down the duster and focused on her written thoughts.

  I broached Old Sam with the situation Jarred faces with his parents. Old Sam was right. He told me that Jarred’s parents must want a relationship in order for them to be close. Now I’m really at a standstill. Should I contact his mother and father?

  It’s certainly doable. All we would need is their phone number and address. But I fear their reaction. I don’t want Jarred to feel worse than he already does. Their response might be hurtful. After all, they’ve never tried to see or talk to him. On the other hand, he’ll never see them if he doesn’t make an effort.

  She let out a sigh that was a potent combination of frustration and determination.

  So there’s only one option to connect Jarred with his parents. And that’s to reach out to them.

  The following morning, Rachel stroked Cinnamon’s long nose. As she took in the horse’s lack of reaction, she pleaded, “Please, boy, feel good. I can’t stand to see you so sick. You were better. What happened? I want you to stick around to meet Hannah’s baby that’s coming soon. We’re gonna have a new niece or nephew. You’ll pull us in the buggy, and she’ll love you like I do.”

  A firm voice made her turn. Her father stepped into the barn and joined her. “Honey, it’s time to talk.”

  Rachel tensed. As she studied her dad’s face, she could tell that he came with bad news. His eyes hinted at seriousness; his jaw was set and the tone of his voice was unbending. “Allowing an animal to suffer like this just ain’t right.”

  Her heart jumped with a combination of anxiety and denial. She cleared the stubborn knot from her throat and attempted to remain calm. “But, Dad, he was doing better.”

  He gave a firm shake of his head. “That’s how viruses are. Sometimes, they fool you. But your horse is going south. It’s time to put him down. That is, unless the doctor still wants to accept responsibility for him.”

  *

  Rachel was fully aware that it was July 15, Jarred’s birthday—and the anniversary of his brother’s death. A lone tear slid down her cheek as she waved good-bye to Jarred and Cinnamon. She ached for Jarred, and she hurt for herself that she was losing Cinnamon. At least with Jarred, her horse had a chance.

  She stood very still as the truck turned onto the blacktop and eventually disappeared. She dropped her arms to her sides, drew in a determined breath, and tried to accept the situation. As she struggled with this, the bright sun slipped behind a large cloud that reminded her of a helping of Mamma’s mashed potatoes. The breeze dropped the air a couple of notches to a cooler temperature. A shiver darted up her spine and she threw her shoulders back to dispel the sensation as she glanced at the garden.

  As the breeze picked up speed, the plants did a dip to the east. The wind let out a light whistle as it met the barn’s roof. The pans connected to the posts in the garden clicked against the metal. Rachel looked on as chickens, goats, cows, and Paula stepped from all directions into the barn. When a raindrop touched the back of her hand, she glanced up at the sky to see that it had suddenly filled with dark gray clouds.

  She wondered about Cinnamon. I hope Jarred gets him to his barn before the rain hits them. The thought of Jarred prompted a sigh of relief.

  Cinnamon’s with Jarred. And there’s no one I would trust him with more.

  *

  Half an hour later, Jarred readied Cinnamon’s new stall and smiled a little. “You’ll be comfortabl
e here, boy. Only thing is, you’ll have to look at me every day instead of Rachel. Sorry about that.”

  As he smiled at Cinnamon, Rachel filled his thoughts. Night and day, she was on his mind. And to his surprise, he was giving consideration to joining the Amish church to be with her.

  He focused on what was in front of him and frowned. Transporting the sick horse hadn’t been easy. Jarred vividly recalled Rachel’s expression, a urgent combination of sadness and relief. Now that Cinnamon was here, Jarred could give him his full attention. But was it too late?

  Jarred eyed Doc Joe while he checked Cinnamon’s vitals. He knew second opinions could be game changers. His acquaintance checked Cinnamon’s vitals.

  “The bad news is, the horse has a hard fight ahead. The good news?” He shrugged. “I wouldn’t do a thing differently.”

  Jarred gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder. “Thanks for checking him out. I wouldn’t have bothered you, but this is my most important patient.” He winked. “I want to do my best by him.”

  “How long has this been going on?”

  Jarred was thoughtful a moment. “About a month.” He went on to share the miraculous story of the horse’s recovery at birth.

  Doc Joe hesitated a moment. “You’re a Good Samaritan, kid. Doc Stevens would be proud of you. I respected him, and I’ve no doubt that he’d want me to help you save this beauty. But unfortunately, there’s not a whole lot more we can do.”

  Jarred nodded his agreement. “I appreciate the professional opinion.”

  Joe cleared his throat. “Uh, I know your good intentions, Jarred, but you’ve gotta realize that the odds are stacked high against him.”

  Jarred lowered his gaze to the ground and shook his head in dismay. “It’s a bad virus, and watching an animal suffer isn’t easy. But the Lord seems to bless you with special healing powers.”

  Joe chuckled. “This guy has his best shot if he’s under your care.”

  Jarred patted him on the back and thanked him. After they waved good-bye, Jarred made himself comfortable next to Cinnamon, stroking him and tempting him with sugar cubes. Of course, Jarred didn’t expect him to eat. Cinnamon’s chance of recovery was fast disappearing.