An Amish Harvest
Patricia Davids
Nursing His Heart When Amish carpenter Samuel Bowman is injured in an accident, he fears he'll never see again. He's always provided for his family–and now that it's harvest season, the Bowmans are needed in the fields, not at his bedside. So when a young Amish widow becomes his nurse, Samuel expects Rebecca Miller to make his life easier. But his caregiver is bossy, outspoken and challenges him to move on with his life. Though Samuel's sight is in question, he can plainly see the woman he's come to care for won't let herself love again. Now it's Samuel's turn to heal her heart.
Nursing His Heart
When Amish carpenter Samuel Bowman is injured in an accident, he fears he’ll never see again. He’s always provided for his family—and now that it’s harvest season, the Bowmans are needed in the fields, not at his bedside. So when a young Amish widow becomes his nurse, Samuel expects Rebecca Miller to make his life easier. But his caregiver is bossy, outspoken and challenges him to move on with his life. Though Samuel’s sight is in question, he can plainly see the woman he’s come to care for won’t let herself love again. Now it’s Samuel’s turn to heal her heart.
“Will you marry again?” Samuel asked.
Rebecca wasn’t sure how to answer Samuel’s question. It seemed that everyone had an opinion about whether she should or not, but how did she truly feel about it?
He waited patiently for her answer. Somehow, it was easier to express her feelings under the cover of darkness. She didn’t have to school her features into blankness and pretend that she was content with the way life was. It was easy to confide in Samuel. Maybe it was because he couldn’t see her face.
“I don’t believe I will marry. I find great satisfaction caring for the sick among us. I can be useful and I like that.”
“A wife and mother does the same. There are many good men in our community.”
“I find it hard to imagine someone who could make me laugh the way Walter did. It’s harder still to imagine going through life with someone who doesn’t make me laugh. I don’t think I could abide that.”
“That’s understandable. You’ve played some good pranks yourself.”
She giggled. “I’m a bully. Say it like it is.”
“Okay, I agree with that.”
She enjoyed his teasing. Maybe too much. This Samuel was easy to like.
After thirty-five years as a nurse, PATRICIA DAVIDS hung up her stethoscope to become a full-time writer. She enjoys spending her free time visiting her grandchildren, doing some long-overdue yard work and traveling to research her story locations. She resides in Wichita, Kansas. Pat always enjoys hearing from her readers. You can visit her online at patriciadavids.com (http://patriciadavids.com).
An Amish
Harvest
Patricia Davids
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Saying, What wilt thou that I shall do unto thee? And he said, Lord, that I may receive my sight. And Jesus said unto him, Receive thy sight:
thy faith hath saved thee.
—Luke 18:41–42
This book is lovingly dedicated
to my grandson Josh.
Of all the things in life that make it
worth living, your smile is at the top of my list.
May God bless and keep you always.
Grandma Pat
Contents
Cover (#u83c3e04b-2934-535c-8744-929882cdbeb0)
Back Cover Text (#u08543ecc-1c4c-5027-baac-35dd0df79f81)
Introduction (#u987f1066-b6ef-542c-886a-76b5f65feaa3)
About the Author (#u5676dd1c-5779-5700-901c-d7163383d558)
Title Page (#u18d2fa1e-dc99-5dd8-8a5a-5b75db478d69)
Bible Verse (#uea0a5d5f-1e68-5d86-9f7f-a915652e0b69)
Dedication (#u4e7d42c5-ce4f-5921-90c4-5046446fa258)
Chapter One (#u3e267d80-4bdd-5cdd-975b-cd84cc85fae0)
Chapter Two (#ua334ce22-6379-572c-9431-c6e91d2a5fbe)
Chapter Three (#u024e2d67-75fb-5294-8b51-4fcd58debf39)
Chapter Four (#uc171854c-51cc-5399-a6fb-618016626ff6)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ulink_9289e221-50e4-5314-b1c1-b01d9358be3b)
“Don’t do this to me now!”
Samuel Bowman yanked his chisel away from the half-finished table leg rotating on the lathe in front of him as it spun to an untimely stop. Laying his tool aside with care that belied his frustration, he brushed away the loose ribbons of wood shavings to make sure he hadn’t marred the piece. It was the last leg for a special table. An intricate piece, it had to be finished this morning if he was going to have the set completed on time.
“What’s wrong, brudder?” Timothy, Samuel’s second brother, paused on his way past. He held a cardboard box full of hand-carved wooden toys. Also a skilled woodworker, Timothy’s designs were simpler and more modern than Samuel’s.
“The lathe quit.” A breakdown was the last thing Samuel needed. He murmured a prayer and held his breath as he flipped the machine’s switch off and then back on. Nothing.
Timothy grimaced in sympathy. “Let me get these to the gift shop, and I’ll take a look at it. Mother has a lady who wants to see a few more of my samples. Can’t keep the Englisch customers waiting. Is that the table for the Cincinnati dealer?”
“Ja, and it has to be finished today. I need the lathe working.”
“Don’t worry. It will all get done on time. I’ll look at it when I get back.” Timothy went out the woodworking shop’s front door.
It was all well and good that Timothy thought the table would get done. He didn’t have to do it. There was more than Samuel’s reputation for prompt work hanging in the balance. His father had invested the last of the family’s savings in this venture to expand their shop and add the showroom area now packed with Samuel’s finished works. The family badly needed the money a contract for future sales to the high-end furniture store would generate.
Amish-made furniture was always in demand and Samuel was one of the most skilled carvers in the area. It was his God-given gift, and he put it to good use. Up until now, he’d only sold his work locally from the family’s gift shop. But their Amish community of Bowmans Crossing was off the beaten path. Few tourists ventured into the area. Samuel knew he needed to reach a bigger market if the family operation was going to expand. With five sons and only enough farmland to support one family, the woodworking business needed to grow, and quickly, or his brothers would have to look elsewhere for work.
Samuel checked over every inch of the machine and couldn’t find anything wrong with it. He glanced across the shop and spied the second of his four younger brothers stacking fresh lumber by the back door. “Luke, did you put gas in the generator this morning?”
“I told Noah to do it.”
“And did he?”
Luke shrugged. “How should I know?”
Samuel shook his head in disgust. “Why do I have to do everything myself?”
Luke tossed the last board onto the stack and slowly dusted his hands together. “Want me to go check?”
“Never mind, I don’t have all day.” Luke’s lackadaisical offer rubbed Samuel the wrong way. Again. He loved all his brothers, but none of them had the drive that was needed to make the family business a success. Luke and Timothy would rather go out with friends than work late in the shop. Noah had his head in the clouds over a new horse. Joshua had up and married at girl from Hope Springs leaving them short a farmhand. Samuel had no time for such foolishness.
Luke hooked his thumbs in his suspenders. “When is Father going to replace that ancient piece of junk? We need one of those new diesel generators to power this place. The bishop has already said we could use it in our business.”
“Our engine may be ancient, but it will last one more year and then maybe we can afford a better one. Provided you stay out of trouble. You know why father doesn’t have the money to buy a new one.”
Luke took a step forward, his face set in hard lines. “Because of me, is that what you’re saying? He didn’t have to pay for a lawyer. I had a public defender.”
“That would have been okay if you hadn’t pulled Joshua into trouble with you.”
Luke flushed a dull red. “No matter how many times I say I’m sorry, it will never be enough for you, will it?” He turned away and stormed out of the building.
Samuel regretted his jab at Luke, but his brother’s attitude irked him. It always had. He knew Luke was trying to make up for his poor choices in the past when he’d rebelled against his strict Amish upbringing and left home for the big city. He’d fallen in with bad company and ended up using and selling drugs. When their brother Joshua went to try and talk sense into him, they were both arrested and jailed. It had been a difficult time for the entire family.
Even so, it was wrong of Samuel to throw Luke’s failures in his face. What was forgiven should not be mentioned again. He would find Luke and apologize later. Now he needed to get the table leg turned. He could only put out one fire at a time.
He grabbed the tool chest from the bench beside the back door in case a lack of gasoline wasn’t the issue. If the generator required more than a simple fix, he wouldn’t be able to finish on time, and this opportunity would pass him by.
The engine was housed in a small shed at the back of the woodworking shop. The pungent smell of exhaust filled the small room. As Samuel suspected, the fuel gauge needle sat on empty. He should have filled it himself instead of depending on someone else.
The red gas can was sitting on the floor beside the generator. He picked it up. The light weight and faint slosh revealed it was less than half-full. It would take precious time to go get more. He decided against it. Half a can would be enough to finish the job.
He opened the generator’s gas cap and began pouring in the fuel. Strong fumes hit him in the face. Maybe he should’ve waited until the old machine cooled down a little more.
It was his last thought before a blinding flash sent him flying backward into oblivion.
* * *
“Did you hear what happened at the Bowman place?”
“I haven’t. Something serious?” Rebecca Miller glanced from the cake she was slicing to her mother, Ina Fisher. Ina was putting away the goods she had picked up at the local market on her way to Rebecca’s house. Mamm was always eager to share what news she gathered along the way when she came to visit. The Bowman family lived several miles away across the river. Rebecca seldom saw them except at church functions.
“Well, I stopped at the Bowman gift shop after I left the market this morning. I wanted some of Anna’s gooseberry preserves. You know how much I like them.”
“I do.” Her mother’s plump figure was proof that she enjoyed her sweets.
“Anyway, Verna Yoder was at the counter.”
“I didn’t know she worked there.” Verna was her mother’s dear friend and one of the biggest gossips in the county. The woman somehow knew everything about everybody. She and Rebecca’s mother were birds of a feather.
“Verna doesn’t actually work there. She was helping Anna for a few minutes. She told me everything. A few days ago, Samuel was putting gas in their generator for the wood shop and it exploded. His face and hands were badly burned. They aren’t sure if he’ll see again.”
“Oh, no.” Rebecca pressed a hand to her heart and uttered a silent prayer for the young man from her Amish community and for his family.
“As if that wasn’t enough, the building caught fire and a large part of their work was destroyed. They have seen many trials and tribulations in that family.”
“Will he be badly scarred?” Rebecca asked, thinking of Samuel’s rare smiles. He wasn’t known for his sense of humor. That would be Noah, the youngest, who was the family clown. Samuel was always a serious fellow, one who seemed to study others rather than try to entertain them. She always thought his dark brown eyes looked more deeply into things than most other men.
To be blinded. How terrible for him.
“Verna only said that his face and hands are heavily bandaged. Time will tell if he is scarred. It is all in God’s hands. I know his family is grateful his life was spared.”
“As am I. I will pray for his healing.” Rebecca didn’t know Samuel well. He hadn’t been among her husband’s close friends, but he had made her husband’s coffin in his wood shop.
She could still smell the pungent odor of the red cedar panels he chose instead of the simple white pine that was used for most Amish coffins. Walter had always loved the smell of cedar. She didn’t know how Samuel knew that, but she had been grateful for the special touch even though her mother reported that some people in the church thought it was too fancy for an Amish casket.
“Verna has no idea how the family will manage. Anna is about to tear her hair out trying to run the gift shop and take care of Samuel, too. Apparently, he’s a cranky patient. Harvest is coming on, and her men will soon be in the fields and won’t be able to give her the help she needs. Of course, Verna heard that she sent Gemma Yoder away in tears when she tried to help.”
“I wonder why?”
“That Gemma has had her sights set on Samuel for ages, but I can’t see her being much help in the sickroom. The girl cries at the drop of a hat.”
“What is the church doing to help?” Rebecca knew their community would rally around the Bowman family.
“A group of men have volunteered to repair the building, but Isaac won’t let them start until everyone is finished with their harvest or the weather puts a stop to the field work. I’m sure the church will take up a collection to help cover his medical expenses next Sunday.”
Rebecca’s finances were meager, but she would give what she could. “What else can we do to help?”
“Why don’t we each fix a meal and take it over. That would lighten Anna’s burden.”
“That’s a fine idea. I’ll make up a casserole and bake another carrot cake for dessert.” She finished slicing the one in front of her and slid two pieces onto the white plates she had waiting. She carried them to the table where her mother joined her. Her mother stopped in to visit every Tuesday afternoon, and Rebecca always made something special to share with her.
Her mother smiled and took a seat. She forked a bite into her mouth and sighed. “I like your carrot cake almost as much as I like Anna’s gooseberry preserves. It’s too bad the Lord gave Anna all sons and left her without daughters to help in the house. And such troublesome boys, too. I remember how humiliated she was when Luke and Joshua were arrested on drug charges. My heart ached for her. I don’t know how she bore it.”
“Joshua was wrongly accused.”
Mother pointed a finger at Rebecca. “But Luke wasn’t. An Amish fellow selling drugs, what is the world coming to?” She clasped her hand to her chest and shook her head making the ribbons of her white kapp jiggle.
Rebecca chose to ignore her mother’s dramatic flair. “Luke repented and has remained a solid member of the church. We should not speak harshly of him.”
Her mother’s lower lip turned down in a pout. She stabbed her fork into her cake. “I wasn’t speaking harshly. I was merely stating a fact.”
“Joshua married a lovely girl last month. Surely his wife is helping Anna.”
“They are still away on their wedding trip. Anna has two sisters near Arthur, Illinois. The newlyweds are staying with them and visiting cousins in the area. Anna wrote and told them not to cut their visit short. Verna thinks it was a foolish thing to say. I agree.”
Rebecca thought back to her own wedding trip. She cherished every moment of the time she and Walter spent getting to know each other’s families. Her marriage might have been short, but it had been sweet. Tears pricked the back of her eyes, but she blinked them away. He was only out of her sight for a little while. Someday, they would be together again in Heaven. Until then, she would live her life as God willed.
“I saw John at the market. He asked about you.” The tone of her mother’s voice changed ever so slightly.
Rebecca braced herself for the coming conversation. “How is my brother-in-law?”
“Lonely.”
A twinge of pity pushed Rebecca’s defenses lower. “He told you that?”
“He didn’t have to say it. It was easy to see. His wife has been gone for three years. He has to be lonely. You’re lonely, too. You try to hide it from me, but I’m not blind. I don’t know why you won’t consider marrying John. Everyone in his family is for it.”
Rebecca concentrated on her cake. “It’s barely been two years since Walter died. I know everyone thinks it’s a good idea, but I’m not ready.” Would she ever be?
Her mother reached across the table and covered Rebecca’s hand with her own. “Walter loved you. He loved his brother. He would want to see you both happy.”
How could she be happy with someone other than her beloved? He was the yardstick by which she measured every man. None could come close to the sweet kindness in his voice, the tender touch of his hand, the sparkle that sprang to his eyes each time he caught sight of her. No one could replace him, but her mother was right about one thing. The loneliness was sometimes hard to bear.
“Walter would want to see you holding a babe of your own. Don’t let your sadness rob you of that joy. You aren’t getting any younger.”
“I’m only twenty-five. I’ve got time.” Rebecca’s dreams of a family had died with Walter. She mourned that loss almost as much as she mourned her husband. If only they had been blessed with a child, then she would have been able to keep a part of Walter close to her heart and she wouldn’t be so alone.
Her mother sat back and picked up her fork again. “Time has a way of slipping by us unnoticed, Rebecca. Don’t throw this chance away. Give John some encouragement. You could have children of your own, companionship, security. I don’t want you to be alone all your life.”
Was her mother right? Should she consider remarrying, if not for love, for the blessings a family would bring?
Rebecca studied the cake in front of her. She did want children. She liked John, but was that enough? Could she grow to love him in time? Not as she had loved Walter, of course, but enough to be content in her later years?
“I’ll think about it.” That would satisfy her mother and allow Rebecca to change the painful subject.
“Goot. I’ve invited him and his folks for supper on Sunday after church services. I’m sure the two of you can find a few minutes alone. Are you still working for the Stutzman family?”
Rebecca shook her head as much at her mother’s blatant attempt to manipulate her as to answer her question. “Nee, Mrs. Stutzman’s mother arrived to help with the children and the new baby. I’m unemployed again.”
She wasn’t a trained nurse, but her experience caring for her husband during his long illness had taught her a great deal. She put that knowledge to use helping others in the community such as new mothers or those with infirm elderly family members who required extra attention. Sometimes an English family would hire her, too. It wasn’t steady work, but she found it rewarding. It kept the loneliness at bay and kept her from being a burden on her mother or the church community. She knew they would provide for her, but she hated accepting help when she was able to work.
“So you will be home now.”
Rebecca nodded. “Until I find another job.”
“Goot, you are free to visit with John whenever he wants. I’ll let him know.”
Rebecca closed her eyes. “Mamm, don’t pester the man.”
“He’s always happy to hear from me. You wouldn’t need to work at all if you married again. John makes a nice living as a farrier. His first wife never complained.”
Rebecca cast her mother a beseeching glance. “I’m sure a horseshoer in an Amish community earns a decent wage. Can we drop the subject now?”
Her mother shrugged. “I don’t know why you are so touchy about it. You’re going to let a good man slip out of your grasp if you aren’t careful. I’m simply trying to steer you in the right direction.”
Rebecca was saved from replying by the arrival of a horse and buggy that pulled up to the gate outside. The interruption was welcome. “I wonder who that is?”
“I’m sure I don’t know who it could be.”
Her mother’s feigned innocence caused Rebecca to look at her sharply. “Did you invite John over today?”
“It’s no sin to be friendly.”
Rebecca cringed inside, braced for an awkward afternoon and then opened the door. But it wasn’t her brother-in-law. Isaac Bowman stood hat in hand on her small front porch.
He nodded to her. “Goot day, Rebecca. I hope I haven’t come at a bad time.”
She stepped back. “Not at all. Won’t you come in, Isaac? My mother and I were just enjoying some cake and coffee. Would you care to join us?”
“I’d rather say what I’ve come to say and not waste time.”
Rebecca stepped out onto the porch with him. “As you please. I’ve only just heard about Samuel. I’m very sorry.”
“Danki. That is why I’ve come. I want to offer you a job. My wife needs a live-in helper until Samuel recovers. She is having trouble managing the store and the house with him abed. Noah normally works in the store in the afternoons but I’ll need all my sons in the fields when we start harvesting.”
“Can’t you close the store for a time? I’m sure your customers will understand. Or hire someone to work in it for your wife.”
“I could, but I’d rather not. You will think I’m cruel, but my wife needs to get away from Samuel. Away from thinking she must do everything for him. I know you took care of Emil Troyer before he passed away. The old man was blind, so you have had some experience with a sightless person. Please say you will help us, at least through the corn harvest. Anna won’t listen to me, but she knows you have experience with sick folks. She might listen to you. If you can’t help, maybe you could suggest someone else.”
Rebecca glanced over her shoulder. Her mother was scowling and shaking her head. If only her mother hadn’t latched on to the idea of pushing John and her together. Rebecca didn’t want to spend the next days and weeks thinking of excuses to avoid him. A new job was exactly what she needed. She graced Isaac with a heartfelt smile. “I can start today if you don’t mind waiting while I gather a few things.”
His expression flashed from shocked to pleased. “I don’t mind at all. Danki, Rebecca. You are an answer to my prayers.”
* * *
Samuel waited impatiently for his brother to adjust the pillows behind him. As usual, Luke was moving with the speed of cold molasses. With his eyes covered by thick dressings, Samuel had to depend on his hearing to tell him what was going on around him. Maybe forever.
If he didn’t regain his sight, his days as a master carver were over. He wouldn’t be of any use in the fields. He wouldn’t be much use to anyone.
He refused to let his thoughts go down that road. He prayed for healing, but it was hard to seek favor from God when he had no idea why God had visited this burden on him. He heard Luke shaking the pillows and then finally felt him slide them into place.
“There. How’s that?”
Samuel leaned back. It wasn’t any better, but he didn’t say that. It wasn’t Luke’s fault that he was still in pain and that his eyes felt as if they were filled with dry sand. After six days, Samuel was sick and tired of being in bed and no amount of pillow fluffing would change that, but he didn’t feel like stumbling around in front of people looking hideous, either. Only his mouth had been left free of bandages. He chose to stay in bed to avoid having others see him like this, but he didn’t have to like it.
He licked his swollen and cracked lips, thankful that he could speak. The doctor thought he must have thrown up his hands and that protected his lower face to a small degree. “It’s fine. Is there water handy?”
“Sure.”
Something poked his tender lip. He jerked away.
“Sorry,” Luke said. “Here is your water.”
Samuel opened his mouth and closed it around the drinking straw when he felt it on his tongue. He took a few long swallows and turned his head aside. He was helpless as a baby and growing weaker by the day. His legs and his back ached from being in bed, but he didn’t want to blunder around the room and risk hurting his hands in another fall. One was enough.
Luke put the glass on the bedside table. “Is there anything else I can do for you? Do you want me to fluff the pillows under your hands?”
Before Samuel could answer, Luke pulled the support from beneath his right arm. Intense pain shot from Samuel’s his fingertips to his elbow. He sucked in a harsh breath through clenched teeth.
“Sorry. I’m so sorry.” Luke gently placed Samuel’s bandaged hand back on the pillow. “Did that hurt?”
Samuel panted and willed the agony to subside. The pain was never gone, but it could die down to a manageable level if he was still. “I don’t need anything else.”
“Are you sure?” Luke asked.
“I’m sure,” Samuel snapped. He just wanted to be left alone. He wanted to see. He wanted to be whole. He wanted the pain to stop.
He caught the sound of hoofbeats outside his open bedroom window and the crunch of buggy tires on the gravel. His father must be home. A few minutes later, he heard the outside door open and his mother’s voice. She must have closed the store early.
“Mamm is back.” The relief in Luke’s voice was almost comical except Samuel was far from laughing. He heard his brother’s footsteps retreat across the room. At least he was safe from Luke’s help for a little while. Their mother was a much better caretaker. She could be smothering at times, but her heart was in the right place. Like a child afraid of the dark, he found her voice soothing and her hands comforting.
An itch formed in the middle of Samuel’s back. With both hands swaddled in thick bandages, he couldn’t reach to scratch it. He tried rubbing against the pillow, but it didn’t help. “Luke, wait.”
His brother’s footsteps were already fading as he raced downstairs. Samuel tried to ignore the pricking sensation, but it only grew worse. “Luke! Mamm! Can someone come here?”
It seemed like an eternity, but he finally heard his mother’s voice from the foot of the stairs. “I’m here, Samuel, and I’ve brought someone to see you.”
He groaned as he heard the stairs creak. The last thing he wanted was company. “I’m not up to having visitors.”
“Then it’s a pity I’ve come all this way.” The woman’s voice was low, musical and faintly amused. He had no idea who she was.
Chapter Two (#ulink_6424e8ce-d0ce-5811-9062-4df9081f1cf0)
Samuel cringed. He hated people seeing him this way. Was this another gawker like the last girl who had come to help? All Gemma Yoder could do was sob at the sight of his bandages and burned peeling skin. She’d been worse than no help at all. Thankfully, his mother had quickly sent her packing.
“It’s Rebecca Miller,” his mother said. He could tell she wasn’t pleased.
He heard them move closer. He knew the name even if he didn’t know the woman well. “Walter Miller’s widow?”
“Ja. Walter was my husband.” The tone of her voice changed slightly. Samuel sensed the loss beneath her words. Why would she visit him? They barely knew each other. She wasn’t one of his mother’s friends. It was common for Amish neighbors to help each other, but she didn’t live close by.
“Thank you for coming, but as I said, I’m not up to company.”
“I can see that. Why are you still in bed?”
“He’s in bed because he was badly burned. I’m sure my husband told you that,” his mother chided. “Samuel, your father has hired Rebecca to help us for the next few weeks.”
No wonder she was upset. He had overheard her telling his father that she didn’t need or want someone to help with his care after the last woman left. His father rarely went against his wife’s wishes. Why this time? Samuel rubbed his back against the pillow still trying to ease that itch. “I’m glad you will have help in the store.”
He caught a whiff of a fresh scent that reminded him of spring flowers. Amish women didn’t wear perfume, so perhaps it was the shampoo she used. His sense of smell had become more acute since the accident. Whatever it was, he liked the delicate fragrance, but he didn’t like visitors.
“Lean forward.” When she spoke, she was close beside him.
“Why?”
“Because I said so.”
That was bossy. He did as she said and was immediately rewarded by her fingers scratching the exact spot that had been driving him crazy. How did she know?
“I’m not familiar with what it takes to run a store, but I do know how to care for sick people. You should be up and out of bed unless you want to end up with pneumonia on top of everything else. Anna, you know this. Why are you letting him be so lazy?”
Her mild scolding annoyed him. “I’m not steady on my feet. Mother knows that.”
“Ah, the explosion addled your brain,” Rebecca said as if discovering something important.
“My brain is fine. It’s my eyes and my hands that were injured. I can’t catch myself if I start to fall.”
“Rebecca, Samuel needs constant care. He will be up when he’s ready.” He felt his mother smooth the covers over his feet and tuck them in.
“He won’t ever be ready if you coddle him, Anna.”
“She isn’t coddling me,” he snapped. He couldn’t see. He couldn’t use his hands. He needed help with everything. Couldn’t she see that for herself?
“Then you should move downstairs so your mother doesn’t have to run up here every time you call. You aren’t trying to make things more difficult for her, are you?”
“He’s not making things difficult for me,” his mother said quickly. “I don’t know why my husband thinks I need help. I’m managing fine.”
“Hello? Is anyone about? Anna, is the store open?” a woman’s voice called from downstairs.
“Ja, we are open. Just a moment,” his mother answered.
“Go on, Anna. I can manage here. Samuel, do you need your mother to do anything for you before she leaves?” Rebecca’s voice was so sweet he could almost hear the honey dripping from her tongue.”
“Nee, I don’t need anything at the moment,” he said through clenched teeth. If she was trying to be annoying, she was doing a fine job.
“Excellent. You see, Anna, Samuel and I will rub along well together. Don’t keep your customer waiting. I’ll sit with him until you come back. He and I need to get better acquainted, anyway.”
* * *
Rebecca hadn’t expected it to hit her so hard.
Stepping through Samuel’s doorway was like stepping back in time. All her previous patients had been elderly folks or new mothers. Not since her husband’s death had she taken care of a grown man in the prime of his life. Memories flooded her mind pulling her spirit low. Day after day, she had watched Walter grow weaker and less interested in what went on around him and more dependent on her. She willingly became his crutch, not realizing the damage she caused until it was too late.
Rebecca struggled to hide her dismay at the sight of Samuel. She had forgotten how much he resembled Walter. They were of the same height. They had the same broad shoulders and straight golden brown hair cut in the familiar Amish bowl hairstyle. Could she do this? Could she be a better nurse to Samuel than she had been to her dear Walter?
God had placed this challenge in her path. It was a test of her strength and her faith. She would not waver but stand firm and do her best. Even if the patient didn’t like what she had to do.
She made shooing motions with her hands to get Anna moving. She knew she was being hard on Samuel and his mother, but after listening to Isaac on the buggy ride here, she already understood some of the family’s problems. Samuel’s mother was smothering him with kindness.
While Rebecca felt sorry for Samuel, more sympathy wouldn’t do him any good. Isaac had expressed his concerns about Samuel’s state of mind. Samuel wasn’t getting up. He wasn’t trying to do things for himself. It was so unlike Samuel that no one knew what to do. Luke and Noah both felt guilty about the accident. They blamed themselves for not taking better care of the equipment. They were trying their best to make it up to Samuel. His mother had taken to treating him like a child instead of a grown man. The more she did for Samuel, the less he did for himself.
Rebecca’s husband had been a strong man suddenly struck down with a heart attack at the age of thirty-five. It left him weak, unable to work his land and feeling useless. It took a long time for her to understand what was wrong with him, why he wouldn’t try to get better. He had simply given up and eventually his damaged heart failed him.
That wasn’t going to happen to Samuel, no matter what outcome he faced. With God’s help, she was going to make a difference this time. Samuel needed to be shocked out of his complacency and self-pity. Thankfully, Isaac had had the good sense to hire her.
She was embarrassed to admit how fast she had jumped at his offer. Isaac hadn’t even had a chance to mention her salary before she told him she could start. He had agreed to her usual wage without comment, clearly relieved she was willing to take on the job.
The same could not be said for her mother.
Rebecca put that conversation out of her mind and sincerely hoped her mother and John were having a pleasant visit at her home. No doubt, she would be the primary topic of their conversation, but she was here in this house for a reason. Anna Bowman wasn’t going to release the reins of her son’s care easily. Rebecca braced herself for the coming battle.
“It’s a beautiful day outside. Why don’t you go sit on the front porch and enjoy it. This nice fall weather won’t last long.”
“I’m fine where I am.”
“You may be fine, but trust me when I tell you these sheets need to be laundered.”
“They’re fine. Go away.”
“I’m not going anywhere. Your father hired me to do a job.”
“What job? Annoying me?”
“If that’s what it takes to get you better, I will do it gladly. Come on, up you go.” She flipped the covers back. He wore blue-striped pajamas. He curled his bare toes and crossed his burned arms gingerly. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“All right. I guess I shall have to wash these sheets with you in them.” She picked up the glass of water beside the bed and poured some on his feet.
* * *
“Are you crazy?” Samuel jerked his foot away from the cold liquid. Had she just poured water on his bedding? The woman was off in the head.
“Now the sheets are wet so you’ll have to get up.”
“I can’t believe you would do such a thing to a sick man. Where is my father? If he hired you, he can fire you.”
“You are injured—you aren’t sick. There’s nothing wrong with your feet and legs. I do understand that even simple tasks are now a challenge, but hiding in bed is not the answer. Swing your legs over the side and sit up for a few minutes. Don’t stand too quickly, and you won’t get dizzy.”
“What choice do I have?” He rubbed his foot on his pajama leg to dry it.
“Several. You can stay in your damp bed.”
He didn’t respond.
“Not to your liking? All right. You could yell for your brothers or father to come and escort me home. I’m sure your brothers won’t think less of you for letting a woman get the upper hand and having to rescue you from my clutches. Shall I go get one of them for you?”
He would never hear the end of it. “Leave them be. They have work to do.”
“Goot. I’m glad to hear you say that. So do I. I’m going to move your legs to the side of the bed.”
“I can do it.” He didn’t wait for her help. He swung his feet off the bed and used his elbows to push himself into a sitting position. He kept his hands raised so he wouldn’t bump them.
She touched his shoulder. “Are you dizzy?”
“A little.” He hated to admit it.
“Take some deep breaths.”
He did and the wooziness passed.
“Now, I’m going to keep hold of your elbow while you stand.”
“What if I fall?”
“I’ll try not to trip over you while I’m making your bed.”
He wasn’t amused. “Very funny.”
“I thought so.”
“I’m serious. I could fall and hurt you.”
“You could, but you won’t. If you start feeling weak, I’ll have a chair right behind you.”
He heard her drag the ladder-back chair that sat at his desk closer. “Are you ready?”
“Will you pour water on my head if I say I’m not?”
“Nee, I would not want to get your bandages wet. However, I notice you don’t have any dressings on your back.”
His father was going to have to get rid of this woman. “What kind of nurse would pour cold water down her patient’s back?”
“One who is tired of waiting for her patient to get out of bed!”
He rose to his feet, fully expecting to pitch forward on his face the way he had the first time he’d tried to stand by himself. It had been agony getting up and back into bed without help. He never wanted to feel so helpless and alone again.
“Very good. Take two paces forward and then turn left. The doorway will be directly in front of you.”
With her firm grip on his elbow to guide him, he managed half a dozen steps, but his hands were starting to throb and his legs were growing weaker. He held his hands higher. The thought of descending the stairs without being able to see made his legs shake. Fear sent cold shivers crawling down his spine.
“That’s enough for now,” she said. “Go ahead and sit down. The chair is right behind you.”
He had to trust her. His knees gave way. He sat abruptly, but the chair was in the right spot. At least he wasn’t lying facedown on the floor.
“Raise your hands a little higher. I’m going to pile some pillows on your lap so you can rest your arms on them.”
He braced for the ordeal, but she handled his burned hands with gentleness, arranging the pillows at the perfect height for his comfort. “You did very well, Samuel.”
Was that praise from her? “Danki.”
“Will you be all right here for a few minutes?”
Her tone was definitely kinder. She had a pleasant voice when she wasn’t ordering him around or poking fun at him. “I’ll be fine. Close the window. I don’t like the draft.”
She began humming as she closed the window. It was an old hymn, one he liked. He heard her pulling the sheets off the bed and bundling them together. She was still humming as she carried them out of the room. The sounds of her light footsteps on the stairs faded and he was alone.
He shifted in the chair. He was comfortable enough. It was better than lying down. Not that he would admit as much to Rebecca Miller. He wiggled his toes and then lifted his legs, first one then the other. How had they become so weak so quickly? He kept working them until he heard her coming up the stairs.
“I’m back.”
“I can hear you.”
“It won’t take me a minute to remake the bed if you’re tired.”
“The mattress is wet. You can’t expect me to sleep in a soggy bed.”
“I barely got the linens damp. The mattress is fine, but I’ll flip it over if it makes you feel better.”
“There’s no need if it isn’t wet.”
“Okay.” She continued humming. The flap of the sheets told him she was making his bed. He heard the slight sound of her hands smoothing the fabric into place. The flowery scent was stronger now.
“What is that smell?”
“Lavender. I sprinkle lavender water on the sheets before I iron them. It keeps them fresh-smelling a lot longer. Is it bothering you?”
He took a deep breath. “Nee, it smells good.”
“I grow lavender in my garden and I make it into soaps, oils and sachets. It’s a very beneficial plant and it has so many uses. It’s soothing on the sheets and the scent can help some people sleep better.”
She stopped talking. He sensed that she was standing beside him. He tipped his head away from her. “Do you have a glass of water in your hand?”
“Why? Are you thirsty?” She was trying to keep her voice even, but he heard the humor lurking underneath. She was laughing at him.
“I was afraid you’d think I need a bath.”
“You do.”
He hadn’t had one since before the accident. Maybe it was past time. He’d have Timothy help him with that this evening. He was the only one of Samuel’s brothers with enough patience and the ability to work in silence. Samuel quickly changed the subject. “Do you sell your homemade soaps?”
“Nee, I give them away to family and friends.”
“You should consider selling some in our store. The Englisch love Amish-made stuff and they pay well for things like my mother’s jams and jellies.”
“I’ll think about it. I could certainly use some extra income. Are you ready to get back in bed?”
Was he? Not really. It wasn’t bad being up as long as he wasn’t alone. “I might sit here awhile longer.”
* * *
Rebecca allowed her smile of triumph to widen. She knew he would feel better once he was up. “All right. I’m going downstairs and start supper.”
“You’re leaving?” The touch of panic in his voice surprised her.
“I’m only going downstairs. I will hear you if you call. What would you like for supper?”
“Some of Mamm’s chicken broth will be okay. I’m not fond of the beef broth.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Is that all you’ve been eating? Broth?”
He shifted uneasily in his chair. “My face hurts. I can’t use my hands. Mamm figured out that something I can sip through a straw works best.”
“No wonder you’re so weak. I need to get some real food into you.”
“I’m not going to have someone spoon-feed me. Especially you.”
“That sounds like pride. Our faith teaches us to put aside all pride and be humble before God. Are you a prideful man, Samuel?”
She waited, but he didn’t answer. “I didn’t hear what you said,” she prompted.
“I’m not prideful,” he answered softly, but with an edge of irritation.
“Of course not. I’m sorry I misunderstood. Please forgive me. If you’re okay in the chair, I’m going to get the wash started and then supper. Which one of your family members shall I ask to help you with your meal and your bath?”
“Timothy. But I’m not coming downstairs to eat.”
“That’s fine. Just call if you need me.”
She crossed the room to the door, but didn’t leave. Instead, she waited and watched.
He turned his head to the side as if listening for her. After a long minute, he muttered, “Fat chance I’ll ask her for help.”
She smiled. He wasn’t sure she had gone. He was testing to see if she was still about. He kept his head cocked with one ear toward the door. She silently slipped out, taking care to avoid the squeaking stair treads she had noted on the way up.
Rebecca was used to finding her way around strange kitchens. A quick check of the refrigerator and the pantry gave her the fixing for a hearty chicken and noodle casserole. That would be easy for Samuel to eat and filling for the rest of the family. After putting the chicken on to boil, she started the laundry in the propane-powered washer in the basement, swept the kitchen and washed the kitchen floor. While she worked, she kept an ear out for any sounds from Samuel’s room. She was prepared for his call, but not for the loud thud that shook the ceiling above her.
She dashed up the stairs and found him sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed. There was blood on the bandage covering his left hand. She rushed to his side. “Samuel Bowman, what have you done to yourself?”
* * *
Samuel gritted his teeth against the unbearable pain in his hands. He couldn’t breathe let alone answer her.
“Are you hurt anywhere else?” Her voice penetrated the fog in his brain.
“Why? Isn’t this bad enough? Maybe I can break a leg. Would that make you happy?”
“I’m sorry you’re hurting, but that’s not an excuse to be rude.”
The pain receded, but his humiliation grew by leaps and bounds. This was exactly what he had been afraid would happen. Hitting the floor hurt every bit as much as he knew it would.
This was her fault. “Why didn’t you come back? You said you only be gone for a little bit. I was stuck in that chair for ages.”
“I’m sorry about that. Forgive me. I thought you would call for me when you were ready to go back to bed. Let me help you up. Do you think you can stand, or should I fetch your father or one of your brothers?”
“I can do it. Get out of my way.”
“Very well.”
He heard her move aside. He gathered his legs under him and lurched to his feet. He would’ve fallen again if she hadn’t stepped in front of him and placed her hands on his chest.
“I’ve got you. Relax. Take a deep breath. Get your bearings.”
He tried, but it was hard to do with a woman holding him up. The flowery fragrance was from her hair. The top of her head came to his chin. Was her hair blond or pale brown? He couldn’t recall. He remembered her pale face streaked with tears at her husband’s funeral and the flash of gratitude in her eyes when she noticed the cedar panels in Walter’s coffin, but Samuel wasn’t sure if her eyes were blue or gray.
“Are you steady now?” She stepped back but kept a firm grip on his arms.
He was dizzy, but he wasn’t about to admit it to her. His hands still smarted. “I’m fine.”
“You could’ve fooled me.”
“This is funny to you, isn’t it?”
There was a slight pause, then she said, “Maybe just a little. The bed is four steps to your left.”
Determined not to give her anything else to laugh at, he shuffled in the direction of the bed until he felt the mattress against his leg. He sat down with a sigh. Gingerly lowering himself onto his side, he raised his feet. She was there helping lift them and slipping them under the covers.
“I hope you have learned your lesson,” she said sternly.
Was she really going to lecture him? “What lesson would that be?”
“It is less painful to ask for help.”
“It would’ve been less painful if I had stayed in bed in the first place.”
“I can see you are a glass half-empty kind of fellow. We will work on that.”
“I’m not sure I will survive any more of your lessons.”
“Why didn’t you call for me?”
“Why didn’t you return?”
“I didn’t realize how stubborn you are. I won’t make that mistake again.”
“Not with me you won’t. As soon as my father comes in, he will take you home.”
“Something you don’t realize is how stubborn I can be, too. I’m not going anywhere. Your mother needs help. Whether you believe that or not. I am here to help her by looking after you. We got off to a bad start, Samuel. Let’s try to get along.”
“A bad start? You poured water on my sheets.”
“Only because you wouldn’t do as I asked. In the future, we will both have a better understanding of our limits.”
“Don’t get comfortable here. You’ll be leaving.”
“Oh, ye of little faith. It’s time for your pain pill. According to your father, the doctor wants you taking them every four to six hours. I’m sure you must need one now.”
He did, but he hated to admit it so he kept silent. She returned a few moments later and said, “Open wide.”
He did need something for the pain. Reluctantly, he opened his mouth and swallowed the pill with a long drink of water from the straw she held for him. “Danki.”
“I’m going to mark on your bandage with an ink pen. I promise to be careful.”
“Why?”
“I need to make sure the bleeding has stopped.”
“I’m bleeding?”
“Only a small amount through the bandages on your left hand. If I mark the edge of the bloodstain, then I can check in a little while and make sure it isn’t getting bigger.”
He braced himself for the task, but she completed it without hurting him. She straightened the bed and turned his pillow. The fresh coolness against his neck helped ease his tension.
“I’m going downstairs now. If you need anything, you can call for me, or you can make a loud thump on the floor again, whichever you prefer.”
“Nice to know you enjoyed seeing me fall on my face.”
“Actually, I didn’t get to see it. Give me some warning next time so I don’t miss it again.”
“Are you deliberately trying to make me angry?”
“Are you deliberately trying to make me out to be a cruel shrew?”
“I didn’t say you were cruel.”
“Oh, just a shrew.”
“You’re twisting my words!”
He heard her approach the bed. “Samuel, you will be fine in a very short time. I know it doesn’t feel like it now, but you will. This road to recovery is painful and frustrating, but it has an end. Your mother needs help and I need the job. Let’s not fight. If we carry on like this in public people will think we’re married.”
“We wouldn’t want people to think that.”
“Exactly.”
He hadn’t considered that she needed work. She was a widow and dependent on others for her livelihood. His conscience smote him. The Lord compelled men of faith to care for widows and orphans. “I can be civil if you can.”
“Goot. We’ll get along fine, Sammy, as long as you do what I say.”
Just when he thought she was being sensible. “It’s Samuel. We’ll get along fine, Becky, if you listen to what I think before you decide what’s best for me.”
“Very well, we have a deal. You won’t regret it.”
Had he just agreed to her staying?
Chapter Three (#ulink_dd1deca8-a361-5e2e-99f8-03e43d95e48b)
Rebecca almost laughed when Samuel opened his mouth to protest but snapped it shut again. He wasn’t used to losing arguments. He was a man used to getting his own way.
Goot. He needed to find that inner strength again. If irritation with her brought it to life that was fine. He would most likely speak with his father later, but for now, she had the upper hand. But the upper hand wasn’t what she was here for. She was here to help him get better and to cope with his injuries.
Maybe she should try seeing things from his perspective. Taking care of Emil Troyer had taught her a lot about the ways blind people coped. She closed her eyes, turned around once and tried to cross the room without losing her sense of balance. She quickly became disoriented. No wonder Samuel was insecure and fearful. Without the use of his hands to feel his way around, he was twice as blind. His fall had reinforced his belief that he needed to stay in bed. It was a setback to be sure, but she wasn’t willing to let him.
She had an idea. “How are your elbows?”
“What kind of question is that?”
“Are your elbows burned like your hands? Are they bandaged? I can’t tell under your pajama sleeves.”
“My elbows are fine. So are my knees. Would you like to see me crawl on them?”
“Maybe later.” She crossed to the wall and tried using her elbows to help keep her balance and find her way. As she suspected, keeping one elbow or her shoulder in contact with the wall made moving easier.
“You are nuts,” Samuel muttered.
She ignored his comment and returned to his bedside. “I’m going to suggest that you keep one elbow against the wall when you move around the room. It will help you maintain your balance and give you something to lean on if you feel dizzy. It won’t help you cross an open room, but it will allow you to get up and move around without someone with you.”
“I’m not going to be moving around my room.”
“Of course you will be. Several times a day, in fact, but you’ve done enough for today. I’ll bring your supper up after your brother has helped you bathe.”
“You are not going to spoon-feed me,” he muttered.
Her resolve weakened in the face of his embarrassment. It had to be hard to depend on others for every aspect of his care. It must be doubly humiliating to have a strange woman telling him what to do. Still, she was here to do a job and that job was to get Samuel well. Coddling wouldn’t help him.
“Would you rather lick it off the plate like a dog? I guess that will work, but it might get the bandages on your face dirty not to mention my clean sheets. If that’s the plan, I’ll have your brother wait until after supper to bathe you.”
“Go away. You’re making me crazy.”
That was better. There was more life in his voice. “I’m going. All you have to do is ask. Verna Yoder was right for a change. You are a cranky patient.”
“I haven’t spoken a word to Verna Yoder. Why would she say I’m cranky? And why are you gossiping about me? Who else is gossiping about me?”
“Samuel, you know full well if Verna Yoder is talking about you, everyone has heard what she has to say. The woman would gossip with a tree stump.”
“She would be cranky, too, if she’d been through what I’ve been through.”
“On that we can agree. She isn’t one to suffer in silence. But, we shouldn’t speak disparagingly of her. She is a member of our church and we must accept her, flaws and all, as a child of God. I’m sorry for my unkind thoughts, as I’m sure you are, too.”
“I’ll keep my thoughts to myself so you can’t share them with Verna and who knows who else.”
She laughed outright. “Smart man.”
A grunt was his only reply.
She softened her tone. “Do not fear. I will spread the word that you are a wunderbarr patient, Samuel. Easy to care for and sweet natured. Everyone will know you as kind and good-natured with never a cross word to be said about anyone.”
A twitch at the corner of his mouth could have been a smile. “Then you’ll be guilty of lying.”
“I think not. Is there anything you need before I go finish the laundry?”
“My eyesight restored.”
She heard the fear underlying his words even as he tried to make a joke out of it. “If God wills it, Samuel, it shall happen. Many people are praying for you.”
“We both know prayers aren’t always answered.”
A stab of familiar pain took her breath away. Her prayers for Walter’s recovery had gone unanswered, but in the last days of his illness, she finally understood that she had been praying for the wrong thing. “Our prayers are answered if we ask to humbly accept God’s will, Samuel.”
“I’m not sure I can do that. Not until I understand why this happened to me.”
She understood his despair and confusion. He felt betrayed. She had, too. “Why did He call my husband home so soon? I have no answer for that or for your injury. We must not question His will. We must accept that His plan is greater than we can see.”
“Since I can’t see at all, that won’t be hard.”
He was determined to look on the gloomy side of things. She would tolerate that for a while, but not for long. “God was merciful to you, Samuel. I’m surprised you don’t see that. Your clothes didn’t catch fire. You could have been burned everywhere.”
“I had a large leather apron on over my clothes and wide leather cuffs over my sleeves to keep them from getting caught in the lathe. They protected my arms and body. I don’t know that God was looking out for me.”
“How can you say that? Who prompted you to put on your apron and cuffs that morning? I am sorry this happened to you, Samuel. I can’t begin to imagine what it must be like. I’m sure the pain is hard to bear, but not knowing if you will see again must be deeply frightening.”
* * *
Samuel pressed his lips tightly together. He didn’t want to talk about fear or the future. Changing the subject, he said, “I’m sorry you lost your husband.”
Rebecca was quiet for a long moment. Then she said, “Danki.”
Samuel heard the tightness in her voice. So it was still hard for her to speak about Walter. She must have loved him very much. Samuel didn’t want to feel sorry for her, but he did.
“I never thanked you for adding the cedar panels to Walter’s coffin. It was a kind touch. How did you know he liked the smell of cedarwood?”
“I once saw him admiring a cedar trinket box at our shop. He kept opening it and inhaling with a funny little smile on his face.”
“I love the smell of cedar, too. It had a special meaning for us. Did he buy the box?”
“He didn’t, but he told me he might be back for it. Later that same day, a tourist stopped in and purchased it. Walter came back the next day and I had to tell him it was gone. I made another one but he never came back to the shop. I learned later that he had taken sick. I should have brought it by the house, but I didn’t.”
Had Walter been planning to buy it for her? Samuel wanted to ask what special meaning the scent held for them, but decided against it. It was much too personal a question. He didn’t want to start liking this bossy tyrant. He didn’t want to hear about her feelings for her husband, or how she survived his loss. He just wanted to be left alone with his own misery. “I’m tired now.”
“I understand. Do you need anything before I go?”
As soon as she spoke, he realized he didn’t want her to leave. He wanted her company for a while longer. Her voice was pleasant when she wasn’t ordering him around or poking fun at him. Companionship wasn’t something he’d needed before. He worked best alone. He preferred it to having to watch others who couldn’t do a task as well or as quickly as he could. People frustrated him. His brothers frustrated him. Rebecca frustrated him. He didn’t like that he wanted her around.
“I’m fine. Peace and quiet, that’s all I ask,” he snapped.
“I’ll be downstairs if you need me, Samuel,” she said gently. It was an unspoken rebuke for his churlish attitude. And deserved.
“I know. Call or fall on the floor to get your attention, whichever I prefer.”
She laughed. “Something along those lines.”
After she left his room, the sound of her laughter stayed in his mind. She had a pretty laugh. Not horsey or simpering. Rebecca Miller laughed like someone who enjoyed life. His grudging smile pulled at the bandages on his face and made him wince.
His grin faded. Rebecca had faced great sorrow. How did she find the strength to be happy? He shared the same Amish faith she did. Was her faith stronger than his was? Or was she a stronger person? Was it true that she didn’t question God’s plan for her life? He had a hard time believing that. How could she not? No husband, no children. Her future must look bleak at times. As did his when he found the courage to think about it.
Samuel listened for her throughout the next hour or so. He had no way of telling time. The days and nights tended to crawl by with nothing to do but feel pain. Rebecca kept humming or singing softly so he knew where she was. When he heard the washing machine running in the basement, he sat up gingerly on the side of his bed. His mother had an ancient wringer washer that his father had adapted to run off propane. Samuel knew Rebecca would be down there feeding the clothes through the wringer for a while. Standing slowly, he moved up the bed until his elbow touched the wall by his headboard.
Although he was still unsure of his balance, he discovered he wasn’t afraid of falling on his face as long as he had the wall to lean on. He made one slow circuit of the room. He remembered the chest beneath the window in time to avoid stubbing his toe on it, but knocked his shin against the leg of his desk. It was a minor discomfort compared to his previous fall. How much damage had he inflicted on his burned hands?
Rebecca had marked the bloodstains. Were they getting worse? Should he call her to check? He made his way back to bed first. He didn’t want her to know he had taken her suggestion for getting around.
He lay down with a sigh of relief just as he heard her coming up the stairs. She came quietly to his side. After several minutes of silence, he couldn’t stand it anymore. “Has the bleeding stopped?”
“It has. I’m sorry if I woke you.”
“I wasn’t asleep.”
“There isn’t any way for me to know that unless you speak, Samuel.”
“I did speak.”
“After I stood here in awkward silence for ages. Are you worn out after your stroll?”
He almost denied that he had been up, but thought better of it. “How did you know?”
“I noticed the papers on your desk had been disturbed and one was on the floor. The window isn’t open, so I knew they couldn’t have blown around.”
“I bumped into it.”
“I thought so.”
He grudgingly gave her credit for her good idea. “Leaning against the wall makes it easier.”
“I’m glad my suggestion was helpful.”
He heard the front door open. “Samuel, I’m back. I’m sorry I was gone for so long. How are you?”
His mother came charging up the stairs, breathless by the time she reached his bedside.
“I’m fine, Mamm.”
“So many people have stopped by to ask about you. I must’ve told the same story about your injury ten times already today. I thought I would never get free.”
“Samuel and I have gotten along fabulously. I changed his sheets. He was up in the chair and even took a short walk. I’m very pleased with him.”
His mother laid her hand on his cheek. “You haven’t overdone it, have you, Samuel? The doctor warned against that. I would feel dreadful if you suffered a setback. Is the pain worse? I don’t know why she thought you needed to be up.”
He’d forgotten the pain in his hands and his face for a short time while he was talking with Rebecca. They came roaring back to life now although the pain pill was taking the edge off. “I might have overdone it.”
“Is that blood on your bandages?”
“It’s nothing to worry about. He bumped it, but the bleeding has stopped,” Rebecca said calmly.
“You shouldn’t have let him get up.”
“Maybe we should let him rest for a while and discuss this downstairs,” Rebecca suggested.
“An excellent idea. You and I need to have a talk.”
Samuel knew that tone. His mother wasn’t happy. He felt a stab of pity for Rebecca, but quickly smothered it. She would be on her way home shortly.
He was glad about that, wasn’t he?
* * *
Anna Bowman was upset.
Rebecca followed her to the kitchen and prepared to receive a scolding. She didn’t have long to wait.
Anna spun to face her with her arms clasped across her chest. “I’m grateful you came to help, Rebecca, but my husband made a mistake in bringing you here. You have overtired Samuel, and I won’t have that.”
“He is tired, but he can do more than you think. He needs to do more.”
“I know how to take care of my own son better than anyone. If you had children, you would realize the truth of that.”
Rebecca kept her face carefully blank, but she cringed inwardly. She would never have children of her own unless she married again, and she couldn’t see herself with anyone other than Walter. She stiffened her spine, determined not to let Anna drive her away. “Your son isn’t a child. He shouldn’t be treated like one.”
“I know you mean well, but I won’t be dictated to by you. Now, I’ve got to get supper started. The men will be in soon.”
Before Rebecca could reply, the outside door opened. Isaac Bowman and his three sons filed in. They all nodded toward her and bid her welcome.
“Smells goot!” Noah said with a broad grin. The youngest of the Bowman siblings, Noah was nineteen and still in his rumspringa—the years when Amish youth were allowed to sample things normally forbidden to baptized Amish members. He wore blue jeans and a red plaid shirt. His curly brown hair was cut short beneath a black ball cap. He whipped it off at his mother’s frown and hung it on the pegs by the door where his father and brothers had placed their identical straw hats.
Anna glanced with surprise at the stove where Rebecca’s chicken and noodles were simmering. Apparently she had been so intent on returning to Samuel that she hadn’t noticed the enticing smell.
Isaac looked around in satisfaction. “The house looks wunderbarr. The floor is spotless. The counters are clean and neat. It’s goot to have my industrious wife back. I knew bringing Rebecca to look after Samuel was exactly what you needed. You have always kept our home as neat as a pin until Samuel’s accident.”
Anna glanced around the room. “Well, I try.”
Rebecca took pity on the woman. “I wasn’t able to get the biscuits started, Anna. Would you like me to do that, or would you like me to sit with Samuel?”
“Well, I don’t know.” Anna chewed the corner of her lip as she gathered her apron into a wad.
“Let her sit with Samuel,” Isaac said. “No one makes biscuits as good as yours.”
Anna looked as if she wanted to argue, but instead she nodded. “Tell Samuel that I will be up to feed him as soon as the family is finished with supper.”
“Anna, I brought Rebecca here to lighten your load. Let her do her job.”
Anna folded her arms over her chest. “She made supper and picked up the house. It was a kindness and I thank her, but I can take care of my own family.”
Rebecca caught Isaac’s eye. “Samuel asked that Timothy help him this evening.”
Isaac arched one eyebrow but didn’t comment. Rebecca hoped he understood Samuel’s reluctance to be seen as an invalid by others, even by her. She turned to the young men washing up at the sink. “Do you mind, Timothy?”
“I don’t mind a bit.” Timothy dried his hands on a towel and tossed it over Noah’s head. Noah snatched it off and gave his brother a good-natured grin. “You make a fine nursemaid, Timmy. I’m not surprised he asked for you.”
“Better to be the nursemaid than the baby.” Timothy laughed at Noah’s quick scowl and then went upstairs.
Anna smoothed her apron. “May I speak to you privately, Isaac?”
“Of course.” He followed her into another room.
Rebecca sighed deeply. She had been too forceful, too pushy, too sure that she knew what was best. She had allowed her experience with her husband’s illness to cloud her judgment. Samuel wasn’t Walter. Anna would see that she was sent home. It was a shame, because Anna really did need help even if she wouldn’t admit it.
“How is he?” Luke asked. He had a wary look about him. Standing apart from the others near the front door, he looked ready to make a quick escape. She had the feeling he was as much an outsider in the home as she was.
Rebecca smiled to put him at ease. “Samuel is healing, but these things take time.”
Luke shoved his hands in his pockets. “He’s been like a bull with a sore head. Nothing pleases him.”
Noah hung his towel on the rod at the end of the counter. “Mamm says we must be patient with him and do everything we can for him.”
Luke moved to take his turn at the sink. “That’s what we’ve been doing, and his mood hasn’t improved.”
“Sometimes doing everything for a person does more harm than good.” Rebecca moved to the stove, lifted the lid off the pot and stirred the contents. Fragrant steam rose in a cloud.
“What do you mean?” Noah asked.
She decided the noodles needed a few more minutes and replaced the lid. “Just that if you don’t encourage your brother to try harder, he will only grow weaker.”
Luke rinsed his hands and turned off the water. “Samuel has never been the weak one.”
“That’s why this is so hard for him.” Rebecca glanced toward the doorway where Anna and Isaac stood. She couldn’t tell what decision had been reached, if any.
Isaac hooked his thumbs through his suspenders. “Let’s get out of the way until supper is ready. Noah, you owe me a chance to beat you at checkers.”
The men left the kitchen. Anna began mixing the biscuit dough. “Rebecca, will you set the table? The dishes are in the cabinet on the left side of the sink.”
“Of course.” At least she wasn’t being sent home before supper. She knew that Isaac was on her side, but how much sway did his wife’s wishes hold?
Supper was a quiet meal. After a silent blessing, the food was passed around with a minimum of fuss. Amish meals were not a time for small talk. Isaac laid out the work they would need to do the following day. Other than a few brief questions from his sons, their attention was given to the food. When the meal was over, Isaac took a tray upstairs to Samuel. Timothy offered to do it, but his father brushed aside the offer.
* * *
Samuel struggled into a sitting position on the side of his bed when he heard footsteps enter his room. He was feeling more human after Timothy had helped him bathe, and his appetite had been whetted by the wonderful smells from the kitchen. “It’s about time.”
“If you are impatient for your meal, you should come down to the table.”
Tensing at the sound of his father’s voice, Samuel quickly apologized. “I’m sorry, Father, I thought you were Timothy. He said he was bringing up my supper.”
“I wanted to talk to you, and I thought this was a good time to do it.”
“What did you want to talk about?” Samuel heard the sound of the tray being placed on his bedside table and the scrape of the chair legs as his father pulled up a seat beside the bed.
“Your mother is unhappy that I brought Rebecca here.”
“I don’t blame her. The woman is touched in the head. She actually poured water on my sheets to get me out of bed.”
To Samuel’s chagrin, his father began chuckling. “I never would’ve thought of that. Did it work?”
“That is hardly the point.”
“Isn’t it? Open your mouth. I have a spoonful of chicken and noodles for you.”
“Mother said I was to stick with broth.”
“Doesn’t sound like much of a meal to me. Open.”
Samuel did as his father bid. The first bite had his stomach rumbling for more. The noodles were firm, not mushy. The chicken was tender and the chunks of vegetables were done to perfection.
“She’s a good cook, I think,” his father said, giving him several more bites.
“Not bad, but I’m still glad she isn’t staying.” Samuel opened his mouth for another spoonful. Although he was embarrassed to be fed by his father, he was hungry enough to accept the help.
After a few more bites, his father spoke again. “How are you feeling, sohn? Really. Don’t tell me fine. I know that isn’t true.”
“I have a lot of pain. My eyes burn like the fire is still in them. My hands are useless. I hate being helpless.”
“I’m sorry God has placed this burden on you. I would take your place if I could.”
“I know that. I’m sorry my carelessness placed such a burden on you. I know you need my help in the fields.”
“Our neighbors have been lending a hand.”
“That’s nice to hear. My brothers can’t do it all, not without Joshua, but I reckon they’ll have to try. It was a bad time for Joshua to marry. They should have waited until the fall like most Amish people do.”
“Your brothers are doing fine. Joshua followed his heart and I can’t fault him for that. You will be back in the fields in no time.”
Samuel’s appetite fled. “What if I’m not? What if I’m blind forever as the doctor fears?”
“That is a bridge you can’t cross until you reach it. You must have faith that God will provide all you need.”
Faith. Did he still possess it?
“Would you like some more supper?” his father asked.
“Nee, I’m done.”
“Very well. Your mother will be up shortly.”
“She’s good company.” She didn’t make him do things he’d rather not.
“She fusses over you.”
“I can stand it. She understands that I can’t do things for myself.”
“All right. Guten nacht.”
“Good night.” Samuel realized his father hadn’t said what he intended to do about Rebecca. “Daed, wait.”
“What is it, Samuel?”
“You are sending Rebecca home, aren’t you?”
Chapter Four (#ulink_6cc6276d-d649-5959-9689-81f5e0d73a5c)
Rebecca had just finished washing the last supper dish when Isaac came downstairs. He handed the bowl and spoon to her before facing his wife. “Samuel would like you to come up now.”
Anna turned her back on him and began wiping down the table. “Only if you think I should.”
“Of course you should go up. There is no substitute for a mother’s love and comfort. Have you any chores that Rebecca can help you with this evening?”
Anna turned around with her arms folded tightly across her chest. “Nothing I can’t take care of myself.”
“Anna,” he chided gently.
“Oh, very well. The gift shop needs dusting. It wouldn’t hurt to be swept out, too.”
Rebecca washed and rinsed the bowl then dried her hands on a towel. “I will be happy to do that for you. Is there a broom in the building?”
Anna nodded. “There is a broom closet near the back. You’ll find what you need in there.”
Isaac smiled and nodded at her. She managed a small smile in return and went upstairs. Rebecca waited for Isaac to speak. Did she have a job or not?
He hooked his thumbs under his suspenders and ran them up and down the bands slowly. “I have spoken with my wife and with Samuel about you staying here.”
She laid the towel on the counter. “I assumed you would. They were against it, weren’t they? That’s okay. The last thing I want is to bring tension into your family.”
“Did you really pour water on Samuel to get him out of bed?”
She stared at the towel. “I did, but only a little on his feet. His sheets needed to be laundered, and he refused to get up.”
“I would have paid good money to see that.”
The laughter lurking in Isaac’s voice caused her to jerk her head up. He was grinning. She smiled in relief. “Samuel was quite upset.”
“But he got out of bed.”
She had to tell the whole truth. “He did, but he fell later when he tried to get back on his own. I don’t think he did serious damage to his hands, but I know it hurt him a great deal.”
“To try and fail is better than not trying. He and his mother both have trouble asking for help.”
“It’s a fault many of us share.”
“True. I have told them both you are staying. You must be prepared for some resistance.”
She drew a deep breath of relief. “Danki. I am prepared. Hopefully, I can convince them it’s for the best.”
“I’m sure you will. My sons need to start cutting corn. They will be in the fields all day tomorrow and I have a table that needs to be delivered to Anna’s niece. I have insisted that Anna come with me. Her niece has a new baby that we have not seen. Samuel has an appointment with his doctor in town. Would you be able to drive him?”
“Of course.”
“Goot. In spite of what my wife thinks, I believe you will be a great help to this family.”
“I hope so. I should go and clean the gift shop before it gets dark. Thank you for keeping me on.”
“Anna will show you to your room when she comes back. It is at the back of the house below Samuel’s room.”
“Goot. I should be able to hear if he falls or has trouble at night.”
“I wish I could make this easier for you.”
She fisted her hands on her hips. “Don’t worry about me. I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”
He chuckled and nodded. “I believe you can.”
Rebecca left the house and walked up the lane toward the nearby gift shop with eager steps. She was staying. She didn’t have to go home and face her mother’s constant pressure to wed John. Her mother meant well, but Rebecca wasn’t ready to wed again. She might never be. Her life’s mission now was to care for others, for the sick and those in need of help. Her mother refused to accept that.
The sun hung low on the horizon, but she had a good hour of daylight left. Behind the white board fence to her left, the family’s horses grazed in the pasture. Six big gray draft horses dwarfed a pair of cream-colored ponies munching beside them while four brown buggy horses stood nose to tail drowsing in the evening air. It was a good farm. A neat farm. The outbuildings and the fences had recently been painted. The animals looked well cared for. The corn in the field across from the horses was tall and turning brown as autumn approached. Orange pumpkins peeked through thick green leaves in a patch behind the gift shop.
She reached the small shop and went in. The door wasn’t locked. She hadn’t expected it to be. The Amish believed in the goodness of all men and rarely locked their homes or businesses. What did surprise her was that she wasn’t alone. Luke was setting up a display of birdhouse gourds just inside the door. He had more in a large box on the floor beside him. They were gaily painted in hues of red, blue and yellow.
She gestured toward them. “Those are pretty. Did you make them?”
“I may not have Samuel’s skill with wood, but I’m not without my own talent.”
His sour tone shocked her. She folded her hands in front of her. “I never thought otherwise, Luke.”
He glanced her way. “You didn’t? Aren’t you one of those who believe the drugs scrambled my brains?”
“For all I know, your brains were scrambled long before you took drugs. Where is the broom closet?”
A slow smile crept across his face. “You might be the right one to take care of Samuel, after all.”
“And why do you say that?”
He rearranged his collection to his satisfaction before turning to her. “You’ve got a quick wit and a sharp tongue. I don’t think you’ll take much guff from him.”
She saw a door behind the counter and opened it. “I don’t imagine he’ll give me much guff.”
“Oh, he will.”
She withdrew a broom and several dusting rags. “Are you worried about him?”
Luke crossed his arms and leaned his hip against the counter to watch her work as she pulled the supplies out of the closet. “Samuel is indestructible.”
“No man is indestructible.”
“He only cares about what is best for the family. He sees the vine, but he doesn’t see the branches. No, I take that back. He sees the branches that need to be pruned away so the vine will prosper.”
“Meaning you?” She handed him a dust rag and then began sweeping.
Luke stared at the cloth in his hand for a moment, and then got to work on the shelves filled with jars of apple butter and jams. “Samuel would like it if I left.”
“I would be very surprised if that was true.”
“You’ll see. I’ve been the thorn in his side since the day I was born.”
“Why is that?”
“Because I don’t like to do things his way.”
“I see. What if his way is the right way? He can’t be wrong all the time, can he?”
“Then I do it my way just to annoy him.”
She chuckled. “That sounds like my brudders. They fight like cats and dogs, but they love each other. Do you think Samuel’s accident has changed him?”
“I don’t know.”
“Your father is worried that it has.”
“Maybe Samuel will develop more patience with the rest of us now that he knows what it’s like to suffer.”
She stopped sweeping and leaned on the broom. “You have suffered, haven’t you?”
Luke stopped dusting. “Prison is no picnic. Neither is kicking a drug habit.”
“As one who has suffered greatly, do you now have more patience with Samuel?”
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