Never in his life had Arden felt so humiliated. He stared out the passenger side window, stupefied by how Rachel had pointed out his stuttering, mocked him for mixing up left and right, and ridiculed him because he wasn’t familiar with an apparently common Englisch phrase. And then, after insulting him, she had the good nerve to ask if anything was wrong!
But mostly, Arden was disgusted with himself for ever giving her the benefit of the doubt, especially after he’d overheard her talking on the phone. Whether or not she was referring to me, she was calling someone dumb, and that should have shown me enough about her character to recognize how truly arrogant she is, no matter how unpretentious she appears on the surface.
Not only had Rachel made fun of Arden, but she’d indirectly scorned the Rennos by rejecting Eva’s offer to bring Ivan a homemade cold remedy. Eva might have been a blabbermouth, but her intention toward Ivan was kind. It wasn’t as if Rachel actually had to administer the remedy to her brother, but why couldn’t she have accepted it graciously instead of acting like a big show-off and delivering a lecture on phlegm? If anyone should feel embarrassed, it should be her, not me!
“I’m going to go show Ivan how to use this cell phone before I begin painting,” she announced when finally they pulled to a stop in the driveway. Arden was already halfway out of the car.
“That’s fine. I’ve got an errand to run. I’ve set the paint by the doghouse. The customer wants black trim, the rest in blue. I’ll be back by three thirty or so.” Then, as more of a demand than a statement, he added, “You should be finished painting by then.”
“An errand? Why didn’t you tell me?” Rachel questioned, her voice tremulous. “I could have taken you when we were out.”
“I wanted to go by myself.” Arden slid the rest of the way out of the car and shoved the door shut without a backward glance.
After getting his lunch bag from the workshop, he hitched his buggy and guided his horse toward Serenity Lake. It didn’t matter to him how long he was gone; if necessary, he’d work from the time he returned until midnight rather than be in the same room with Rachel. Cutting across town toward the valley, Arden journeyed down a dirt road only the Amish were allowed to use, per the private landowner, to gain access to the water. After stopping at the edge of the woods to secure his horse, he followed the foot path to where the trees opened to a small clearing. There, jutting into the lake water loomed a boulder the Amish called Relaxation Rock, because its flat top was an ideal location for reclining. But Arden was far too wound up to relax. Pacing the narrow stretch of sand along the water’s edge, he picked up a few stray stones and hurled them as far as he could into the sparkling clear lake.
As he chucked them, he snickered bitterly, thinking, Too bad Colin and Hadassah or Eva and Ike aren’t around to catch me playing hooky now. He knew he should feel guilty, but he only felt tired out and fed up. His energy waning, he gripped the lunch bag between his teeth and scrambled to the top of the boulder. He ate his lunch slowly, reveling in the view until his eyelids grew so heavy he set his hat beside him, leaned back, folded his arms behind his head and fell fast asleep.
The last thing Rachel wanted was to be in the workshop when Arden returned, so she completed painting the doghouse as quickly as she could and cleaned the brushes and tray and put away the rest of the supplies. Then she gathered the ledger, a folder of invoices, two supply catalogs and the scheduling calendar, along with the business phone. From now on, she was going to stay far away from Arden for as long as possible. If he wanted her help, he was going to have to ask for it, because she was sick of volunteering and even sicker of his moodiness. He wants to be by himself? Fine, he can be by himself. I’d rather run into the moose again than to cross his path!
Thinking of the moose reminded Rachel she still had to take in the laundry. No sooner did she bring it inside than she changed out of the lavender dress and into her navy blue Englisch skirt and white blouse. As she put the dress she’d made on a hanger, Arden’s compliment—“Her eyes look pretty in any color”—flitted through her mind, quickly followed by what he’d said about her being effective with patients. How could he go from saying such lovely things to behaving like such an oaf? The more she brooded about it, the more addled she became until she finally gave up trying to figure it out. Why am I wasting my time speculating about Arden? Whatever happened to me being an independent and career-focused woman? she chastised herself.
If only she could go to the bookstore to purchase the medical book on assessments and management protocols she’d been wanting to read, perhaps she could get her mind back on her future. But going to the bookstore would have meant leaving Ivan alone, and even though they both had phones now, Rachel was reluctant to be away from the house for that long. She’d noticed her brother’s coloring looked off and she was convinced he was overly tired, especially later, when he turned in for the night at seven thirty.
As helpful as Grace had been by bringing meals and staying with Ivan in Rachel’s absence, Rachel worried Ivan was sacrificing his sleep in order to visit with her. But how could Rachel broach the subject? The young couple were clearly in love. Besides, Grace was the only person who had come to see Ivan since he’d been discharged. Although he never mentioned this conspicuous lack of visitors, Rachel was disappointed by it. “That goes to show how wrong Arden was when he said the community would be hallich to help during Ivan’s recovery,” she said aloud to herself as she turned off the lights and went to sleep early, too.
Both she and Ivan were up at the crack of dawn the next morning, and he looked even livelier than Rachel did.
“You really don’t have to stay at the haus with me today. You can go down to the workshop,” he said when Rachel returned from collecting eggs and milking the cow. “I’ll be fine on my own.”
“Something tells me you won’t be on your own for long,” Rachel absently replied as she counted the eggs. She was craving angel food cake but was one egg short.
Ivan chuckled. “You’re right. Grace is stopping by with more supp. You and Arden should join us for lunch. I don’t know how I’ll ever eat it by myself.”
“Denki, but since you’ll have company, I’d like to go to town.” It would be the perfect opportunity for Rachel to get the book she wanted. Maybe she’d even treat herself to an iced espresso and a muffin at the popular coffeehouse in town. Or buy eggs from the grocery store. She might even wear lipstick—no more plain dresses fastened with straight pins for her; Ivan was getting better, and Rachel needed to start acting like an Englischer again.
But her afternoon plans were thwarted when Ivan was taking a shower and Grace arrived with a large pot of soup in hand but wouldn’t enter the house. Teary-eyed, she explained her mother had a mild fever again. “I don’t know if it’s a recurrence of her lupus symptoms or if she’s coming down with something, but if it is an illness, it’s possible I’ll get it, or that I’m already carrying it. Which means I might have exposed Ivan to it!” she wailed.
Rachel took the pot and set it aside before calmly leading Grace to the porch swing. After asking about her mother’s symptoms, as well as about her own health and hand-washing practices, she ventured Ivan didn’t have much to worry about; Rachel’s bigger concern was Oneita’s lupus. Remembering she’d promised Arden she’d speak to his mother about keeping her upcoming doctor’s appointment, Rachel provided Grace a face mask and asked her to stay with Ivan until she returned from checking on Oneita. By the time Rachel retrieved her keys and purse, Ivan had joined Grace in the kitchen, where she was setting bowls on the table.
“I’ll be back soon. Remember, no kissing, you two—it spreads germs!” Rachel cautioned on her way out the door to make Grace and Ivan blush. Teasing her brother was something she’d never outgrow. Besides, she wanted to take advantage of the opportunity to prompt Ivan to ask to be Grace’s suitor, if he wasn’t already courting her. Grace’s bruder may be a grouch, but Grace is a wunderbaar woman.
As she was getting into her car, Rachel spotted Arden helping an elderly couple load the doghouse into the back of a pickup. His curls were springs of light in the noon sun, and a damp spot bloomed across his bright blue shirt between his shoulder blades. As she watched him dexterously hoist the structure, Rachel remembered how he’d swept her into his arms after she fainted. She pinched her eyes closed to block the memory and exhaled heavily. When she opened them again, Arden was gone.
Arden stood by the desk, chugging down a cup of water. It was seeing Rachel as much as it was the humidity that had made his temperature rise. As steamed as he still was at her, he needed her help. In the past day alone, he’d received a dozen phone calls about orders, delivery dates and supplies, as well as a voice-mail message from the bank requesting a return call. Even if Rachel had left the relevant paperwork behind, Arden still would have been hard-pressed to field the inquiries and process the information he was receiving. He just couldn’t read and write fast enough, and he was tripping over his tongue more often than usual today, on account of having had insomnia the night before.
But apparently Rachel had somewhere to go—probably to an Englisch store, guessing by her appearance. She was back to wearing her usual clothes, and instead of pulling her hair into a neat bun, she’d piled it in a sloppy knot atop of her head. She looks like she’s been in a windstorm. Arden instantly regretted the thought; by criticizing something as superficial as Rachel’s wardrobe or hair, he was behaving no differently than Hadassah, and he liked to think he had far better reasons for finding fault with Rachel than that.
Then it occurred to him since Rachel had left the house, it was the perfect time to say hello to Ivan and drop off the notepad containing what little bit of information he managed to capture from the phone calls. To his surprise—he hadn’t noticed his sister’s buggy by the stable—Grace greeted him at the door wearing a blue mask. His pulse drummed in his ears; was Ivan okay?
“The mask is only a precaution,” Grace said. “Mamm had a fever this morning, and since I’ve been in close contact with her, I was concerned I might accidentally transfer an illness to Ivan. Rachel said she doubts it, but she went to check on Mamm anyway. I guess she’s going to try to convince her to keep her rheumatologist appointment, although I can’t imagine Mamm will agree.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure about that—Rachel has a gut rapport with Mamm,” Arden replied, automatically giving credit where it was due. Despite being miffed at Rachel, he was grateful she was going to try to persuade their mother to follow up with her doctor.
Because Rachel hadn’t left an extra mask for Arden, when he entered the kitchen, he stayed across the room from Ivan. They chatted briefly before Arden handed off the information he’d brought with him.
“I ought to have Rachel bring me up-to-date on the paperwork,” Ivan said. “But I’m afraid I sleep so much sometimes I don’t know what actually happens and what I dreamed happened. I’m eager for things to be back to normal at the workshop again, though.”
Not half as eager as I am, Arden thought. “No hurry. It’s better not to push yourself. I wouldn’t want you to relapse.” Especially if it means your schweschder would have to stay longer.
Although Grace invited him to join them for lunch, Arden was too hot to eat soup and he didn’t want to be there when Rachel returned, so he plodded back to the workshop. He had just crossed the threshold when the phone rang. Not again, he thought. This time the caller asked to speak with Rachel.
“She’s not here at the moment, but how can I help you?”
The man chuckled. “You can’t, except to give Rachel a message. Let her know Toby phoned and I’d like her to return my call as soon as possible. She’s got my number. Thanks, guy,” Toby said and disconnected before Arden could reply.
Thanks, guy? No wonder Rachel had dated Toby; he was just as condescending as she was.
“Hello, Rachel.” Oneita patted the empty spot beside her on the double glider on the porch. “Kumme, sit. You look a little wan, dear.”
Rachel tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. The humidity was wilting her updo. “I may look as if I’m drooping, but I feel fine. How are you feeling?”
Oneita harrumphed. “Better than my dochder would have you believe. I assume she sent you here?”
Rachel laughed. “I was going to use the pretext of returning your pitcher, but I forgot to bring it. I would genuinely like to borrow an oier, though. But you’re right, I came because Grace is worried about your fever.”
“I honestly don’t feel like I have one. I keep telling Grace she worries too much.”
“I must say, you don’t look sick. May I take your temperature?” Oneita agreed, so Rachel took a thermometer from her first aid kit and slid it beneath Oneita’s tongue. When it beeped, she removed it and read aloud, “Ninety-eight point one. Nope, no fever.”
“I knew that thermometer Grace was using was a piece of junk! I misplaced ours, so she picked up one on sale at the supermarket. I told her she was sacrificing quality for price, and this proves me right.”
“I’m inclined to agree with you, but I can understand why Grace was worried,” Rachel said diplomatically.
Even though no one else was anywhere around, Oneita lowered her voice. “I suspect she was even more worried about your bruder than about me. She’s quite fond of him.”
“I think Ivan’s fond of Grace, too,” Rachel confided.
“I reckon it’s too early to plant celery for their hochzich, but I’d love to have Ivan as a son-in-law. He’s been a blessing to our familye. Especially to my suh.”
At the mention of Arden, Rachel shifted uncomfortably in her seat, but she acknowledged, “Ivan’s very grateful to have Arden as his partner, too. I remember him writing to me that he was about to give up the idea of owning a business when Arden answered his ad. He was amazed a craftsman like Arden would relocate halfway across the country for an uncertain business endeavor.”
“It must have been part of Gott’s divine plan for both of them, because your bruder gave Arden an opportunity he never would have had back home.”
Despite being upset with him, Rachel’s curiosity was piqued. “Really? Arden’s so skilled—why wouldn’t he start his own business in Indiana?”
“There are a lot of carpenters in that part of the country. They far exceed the demand. And of course, working in an Englisch job simply wasn’t an option for Arden.”
“Neh, of course not,” Rachel murmured. Although she could understand why an Amish person might not want to work for an Englisch employer, hearing it still felt like an affront, especially since it was clear Arden would have preferred an Amish person to work with him during Ivan’s illness, too.
Oneita continued, “He was crushed he couldn’t work in the factory with his daed. But with Arden’s reading and writing difficulties, well, he struggled through the application process, which included timed tests. And because his speaking problem is worse when he’s tired or nervous, he didn’t do well during the interviews, either.”
His reading and writing difficulties? His speaking problem? It took a moment for it to dawn on Rachel. “Oh, you mean because he stutters sometimes? That doesn’t seem fair for an employer to eliminate him for a job on that basis.”
“His stuttering, jah, but it’s more that he sometimes has trouble getting his thoughts out. You’ve probably noticed it takes him twice as long to read and write as anyone else, too. That’s why working with Ivan is such a gut fit for him. Your bruder handles all the calls and paperwork—and now you do, too. Although Arden is too self-conscious to talk about it, I know it was a huge relief when you arrived.”
Rachel’s stomach dropped, and if her skin hadn’t already been clammy from the heat, she would have broken into a sweat upon remembering she’d asked Arden to read aloud from the phone packaging yesterday. She’d also pointed out he’d been stuttering. And laughed when he mixed up right and left. No wonder he was so terse with me! He must think I’m a total jerk! Her eyes stung, and she scrambled to her feet, causing Oneita to ask whether she was okay.
“Jah, but it occurred to me there’s something I need take care of at the workshop.” Rachel zipped to the car without another thought about borrowing an egg or even encouraging Oneita to keep her medical appointment—all that mattered to her now was making things right with Arden.
When Rachel barreled through the door, Arden was sitting at the desk finishing the last of his lunch while he puzzled over an order that had arrived in the mail. Ordinarily, he wouldn’t have opened the envelope, but the customer had just called asking to change the specifications from those he’d written on his original request, which, unfortunately, included a variety of acronyms. Because Arden was too confused to make heads or tails of the order, he was forced to tell the customer he’d call him back later.
“I assume you’ve kumme for this.” Arden pushed the rest of the mail across the desk toward Rachel. He stood and put his utensils into his lunch bag, which he dropped into the bottom desk drawer, and then he strode across the work area toward the sawhorses.
Rachel scampered in front of him. Peering up into his eyes, she clasped her hands beneath her chin and said, “Neh, I’m here to apologize, Arden. I’m so sorry for saying you seemed nervous the other day. And for calling attention to your stutter and the fact you mixed up the directions. I promise I wasn’t making fun of you. I had no idea you have dyslexia.”
Arden couldn’t believe his ears. “Dyslexia? Who told you I have dyslexia?”
“Your mamm. She didn’t use that word, but she told me about your challenges reading and writing. And about how you mix up letters—”
Arden didn’t think it was possible to feel more embarrassed than he’d felt yesterday. But to discover his mother had discussed his...his so-called challenges with Rachel was too degrading for him to bear graciously. “So you diagnosed me with dyslexia? I thought a specialist had to do that. I thought there were tests involved. Or are you so uniquely qualified you can diagnose a person at a glance?”
Rachel’s nostrils were turning pink, and her chin quivered. “Neh, you’re right. I don’t know for certain you have dyslexia. I just, I—I—I—”
“You’re stuttering now. Is that because you have dyslexia?”
“Arden, I don’t blame you for being angry at me, but I’m trying to make amends. I’m very sorry.” Tears spilled from her eyes, but Arden was relentless. It was as if he was taking out all of the frustration and humiliation and fear of failure from the past nearly thirty years of his life on Rachel.
“What are you crying about? Does it t-take you t-ten minutes to read a simple passage from the Bible? How many t-times do you have to check your s-spelling for errors? Do you constantly w-worry you wr-wrote down a product code wr-wrong? Has anyone ever refused you a job or called y-you lazy when y-you were trying your hardest?” Arden was utterly exasperated that he couldn’t even tell Rachel off without stammering. He ended by leaning forward and glaring at her as he asked, “Do your peers think you’re stupid?”
She passed her arm across her face to wipe her tears away. “Sometimes, jah.”
“Ha!” Arden scoffed, picking up a saw. “You? I doubt it.”
“Jah, me,” Rachel said, tapping her chest. “Not to the degree you’ve experienced, not even close, but I do know what it’s like to try to prove myself to my peers. To know they think I’m not quite bright enough for them. To feel as if I don’t measure up.”
“That’s a self-confidence issue. I have an actual problem with my abilities.” He balanced a board across the two sawhorses.
“That might be true to a degree, Arden, but despite your struggles, you’re one of the smartest, most creative people I’ve ever met. You’d have to be, to design such beautiful, unique sheds.” Rachel gestured toward the side wall of the workshop. “You memorized where everything on every one of those shelves is. You retain more information in your head than I can capture in a logbook. And you knew exactly what questions to ask your mamm when I was trying to get to the bottom of what was triggering her skin discoloration. I didn’t—and I’m trained in that kind of thing. It put me to shame.”
As much as he wanted to believe Rachel meant what she said, Arden wasn’t going to be fooled twice. “Jah? If that’s what you really think, why did you tell someone on the phone how dumm I am, especially compared to Toby?”
“I never said such a thing! You must have misheard—oh.” Rachel suddenly interrupted herself. She looked away, chewing her lip; Arden knew it. Despite what she’d just professed, she couldn’t deny she’d called him stupid. “I didn’t say you were dumm. I said you weren’t that dull and—”
“So I should feel c-complimented because you said I’m not quite as stupid as you first thought?” Arden picked up the saw and began vigorously cutting into the board, his back to her.
“Listen to me, would you?” she shouted over the noise. “My roommate asked if you were acting morose because that was my original impression of you. But later, on the phone, I told her you weren’t as dull as all that—dull, not dumb—meaning, you weren’t so dreary. So morose.”
Arden stopped sawing. He wanted to trust Rachel was telling the truth so badly his chest ached. He turned to face her. “You did?”
“Jah, I did.” She added ruefully, “Although you’re being so nasty right now I might change my mind again.”
“Don’t,” he said, setting down the saw. He took both of her hands in his. “Please don’t change your mind. I’m sorry. I—I—I’ve been trying to keep m-my difficulty a secret for so long. When y-you n-noticed it, I felt so... I thought you were being condescending. That you were looking down your n-nose at me.”
“I could never look down my nose at you, Arden! I have nothing but deep respect and admiration for you.”
He gently tugged her fingers, pulling her closer until they were only inches apart. “That makes two of us. I mean, I think that highly of you, too.” His mouth went dry, and he licked his lips as she tilted her chin upward.
Rachel’s legs turned to butter, and she felt her face flush beneath Arden’s unflinching gaze. His eyes were bluer than blue, like the first patch of clear sky after a storm. As much as she wanted him to kiss her, Rachel couldn’t let that happen—for his sake, more than hers. She forced herself to take a step backward and then she slid her hands from his grasp. He nodded in silent agreement and rubbed the perspiration from his forehead with the back of his hand.
Not two seconds later, the door creaked open. Arden jerked his head to the side, and Rachel spun around to see Jaala Flaud, the deacon’s wife. Wow, that was close! Rachel thought, but her relief was short lived. Uh-oh. She must be here to inform Arden the deacon and bishop want to speak to him about associating with me. Or worse, to suggest I leave Serenity Ridge.
“So this is where you’ve been hiding!” Jaala exclaimed. “Rachel Blank, kumme give me a hug.”
For an instant Rachel was too stunned to move, but then she nearly flew across the room into Jaala’s open arms. As the deacon’s wife enveloped her, Rachel inhaled the trace scent of nutmeg and cloves on her clothing. The fragrance of my girlhood, she thought, knowing Jaala must have made her renowned spice cake with cream cheese frosting that morning. Rachel whisked a tear from her cheek before letting her go.
Sizing Rachel up, Jaala remarked, “You look more like your mamm than ever. It is so gut to see you, but why did I have to hear about your arrival from Eva Renno? Nobody told me Ivan was out of the hospital, either.”
“I’m sorry,” Rachel replied. And I’m sorry for assuming you wouldn’t wilkom me back or visit my bruder while I was here, too. “I assumed Colin or Hadassah would have told you.”
“Ah, well, that doesn’t matter now. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do. Will you join Abram and me for supper tonight? A few other young people will be there, too. There’s plenty of cake for everyone. Arden, you’re wilkom to kumme, too.”
Rachel hesitated. “I’d love to, but I’m concerned about leaving Ivan—”
“I’ll stay with him,” Arden interjected.
“It’s settled, then. We’ll eat at six.” Jaala linked arms with Rachel and started for the door. “Kumme with me while I visit Ivan. I figured since I’m one of the first to learn he’s home, I’d better bring him a big vat of supp, and I need help carrying it in from the buggy.”
Grateful but amused because Grace had already brought them so much soup they’d be eating it into next week, Rachel flashed a smile over her shoulder at Arden. When he winked and placed a finger to his lips, she wistfully thought, That’s not the only secret we’ll have to keep to ourselves.