“I don’t want to do it. I tell you, I don’t need to exercise.”
Eli heard the irritable words as he entered the back door to the kitchen and set a pail of milk on the table. Morning sunbeams glinted off the snow-covered fields and sprayed a ray of light through the window over the stainless steel sink. The little girls’ happy voices carried from upstairs. Apparently they didn’t have school today so the teacher could attend some meetings.
Across the countertops and table, a variety of large and small plastic bowls, brown bottles, powders, spatulas and long wooden molds covered with freezer paper had been set out in an orderly fashion. Eli recognized the molds as the same type his mother used to make soap and he figured that was Lizzie’s planned work for the day. But she wasn’t in here now.
“Leave me alone, I say.” Jeremiah’s unmistakable curt voice came from the living area.
“But, Daed, the doctor said you must do these exercises twice each day so you can regain your strength.” Lizzie’s pleading explanation was filled with frustration.
Knowing that Jeremiah didn’t want him around, Eli turned toward the door. Like a coward, he planned to flee to the barn.
“And I’m not buying dumbbells either. I’ve lived my whole life without lifting weights. It’s a bunch of foolishness, if you ask me.”
“But, Daed, you’ve been in bed for weeks already. You need to move your muscles.”
Eli paused at the back door, his hand on the knob. No, he was not going to interfere. This wasn’t his business. He should leave them alone and return to his chores.
“Daed...please.”
That did it. Turning, Eli walked into the living room. He had taken a couple of classes on physical therapy and understood the process. He could help, if Jeremiah and Lizzie would let him. If there was any way he could help ease Lizzie’s frustration, he had to try.
Jeremiah was sitting upright on the bed, his legs extended on top of the covers with his casted leg cradled by two pillows. Except for his missing hat and bare feet, the man was fully dressed for the day. A breakfast tray, basin of water, toothbrush and shaving implements rested on the coffee table nearby, along with a towel and comb. Eli couldn’t help thinking Lizzie was taking good care of her father.
Clearing his voice, he stepped near. “Can I help?”
Lizzie whirled around and the papers she was holding fluttered to the wood floor. Eli saw that they were covered with pictures, showing how to correctly perform a number of simple exercises.
“Eli! Guder mariye,” she said as she quickly gathered up the pages.
He nodded respectfully, noticing her ruffled expression. “Guder mariye.”
“What do you want?” Jeremiah looked away, as if dismissing him.
Since Eli had dealt with obstinate patients before, he didn’t feel intimidated one bit. And knowing how hard Lizzie was trying to help her father, Eli decided to be blunt.
“I want to offer my services.”
Jeremiah glared. “What are you talking about? You’re already running my farm.”
Resigning himself to being patient, Eli smiled tolerantly. “That’s not what I mean. I’m trained and have worked with physical therapy patients before.”
“You...you have?” Lizzie said, her eyes filled with startled wonder.
He nodded. “Ja, when I was trying to decide what field I wanted to go into, I took some extra classes. I thought perhaps I could help your vadder with his exercises.”
“I don’t need to exercise, nor do I need your help,” Jeremiah replied, his tone a low rumble.
Hmm. Maybe Eli should try a different approach.
“Of course you need to exercise. As Lizzie pointed out, it’ll strengthen your body. Without it, your muscles will atrophy from lack of use. Once you’re able to get up and walk again, you won’t be able to do the work. You’ll be weak and winded. And then I’ll have to stay here on your farm even longer.”
Ah! That did the trick. Jeremiah’s eyes widened and he stared at Eli with open shock.
Eli hated to use such tactics, but knew it was the only way to get through to Jeremiah. It couldn’t be easy for a hardworking man like Jeremiah to sit around idle all day, dependent on the help of a man he didn’t even like to keep the farm running. Up until the accident, he had led a vital, busy, self-sufficient life. No wonder he was so irritable.
Releasing a cantankerous sigh, Jeremiah pursed his lips together. “Ach, all right. Let’s get on with it then.”
Lizzie smiled and threw an expression of gratitude in Eli’s direction. In her eyes, he could see that she understood what he’d just done. Reverse psychology, of sorts. But if it got Jeremiah to cooperate, then it was worth the effort.
“Do you have some unopened soup cans that weigh about one pound each?” Eli asked Lizzie.
“Ja, in the cupboard.” Without asking what they were for, she hurried into the kitchen and soon returned with two cans of soup. She handed them to Eli, then stepped back.
Jeremiah eyed the cans with a belligerent scowl. “What are you gonna do with those?”
“Since you don’t have any one- or two-pound dumbbells, you can lift cans of soup to exercise your arms. It’s cheaper and just as effective...unless you’re already too weak to lift them,” Eli added, trying to needle Jeremiah into doing the exercises.
“Humph! Of course I can do it,” Jeremiah said.
Eli thought he heard a muffled laugh coming from Lizzie, but didn’t look her way. Jeremiah murmured something about looking silly lifting soup cans that Eli chose to ignore.
“Can you do this?” Eli proceeded to clasp a can in each hand and do several biceps curls. Then he handed the cans over to Jeremiah.
Conscious of Lizzie watching with interest, Eli waited as Jeremiah did the curls.
“That is gut, but what about doing it this way?” Taking the cans, Eli showed Jeremiah a variation of curls that would exercise different muscles in his neck, shoulders, arms and back.
“Ja, I can do all of them.” Jeremiah took the cans and mimicked Eli in perfect fashion.
“That is very gut. But slow down just a bit and concentrate on working your muscles. Feel your movements and make them worth the effort,” Eli encouraged.
Jeremiah did as asked and Eli counted out two sets of eight repetitions before they switched to a different exercise.
“I heard your doctor tell Lizzie that he wants you to aim for full weight bearing on your leg within three weeks. In order to do that, you should exercise your good leg too,” Eli said.
He didn’t want to confess that, while Lizzie was helping Jeremiah pack for his trip home, Eli had spoken with Dr. McGann out in the reception room at the hospital. Eli hadn’t expected to help Jeremiah with his exercises, but he was naturally curious and so he’d educated himself on what the man needed to do.
When he glanced Lizzie’s way, Eli discovered that she had vacated the room. The subtle sounds of tap water running in the kitchen and dishes clanking told him she was doing her morning chores. He continued to work with Jeremiah, coaxing the older man to lay flat so he could lift, push and stretch his healthy leg. Soon, they’d completed the variety of tasks the doctor had recommended.
“There, you’re all done for the morning. But you need to do the same exercises this afternoon. It wasn’t so hard, was it?” Eli asked.
“Ne, it wasn’t hard,” Jeremiah responded.
But Eli knew the man was covering the exhaustion he felt. Jeremiah’s breathing sounded heavy and his arms trembled as he tried to do extra repetitions of the exercises. Even just a few weeks of inactivity had left his body weaker, but Eli doubted the man would ever confess that out loud. At least, not to him.
“Tomorrow, try to do an extra set of each exercise. You’ll soon find that the work gets easier and you’ll be able to do more each day.” Ignoring Jeremiah’s cloudy frown, Eli spoke in a cheery, optimistic tone.
“Ja, I will do as you say,” Jeremiah said.
Pleased by this admission, Eli turned toward the kitchen. “And now, I had better get on with my work. Send one of the maed for me if you need anything at all.”
“I won’t need anything from you,” Jeremiah said.
Pretending not to notice the man’s deep scowl, Eli hid a smile as he walked out of the room. As he entered the kitchen and saw Lizzie standing in front of the counter, he felt suddenly light of heart. The ties of her kapp hung loose against her shoulders and he was tempted to tug playfully on them. No, he better not. She was still on edge around him. But he had to admit it felt great to be needed.
* * *
Wearing goggles and a face mask, Lizzie set the heavy plastic bowl on the battery-operated scale and measured out the distilled water. When she finished, she reached for the jar of sodium hydroxide, or lye as it was commonly called.
As he spoke to her father, the sound of Eli’s deep voice reached her from the living room. She paused a moment, trying to hear his words.
Glancing at the new recipe Abby had given her, she read through the list of ingredients again. Now where was she?
Eli’s laughter caused her to glance toward the door. With a sigh, she picked up the recipe one more time. Glancing at the bowl of water, she shook her head in disgust. She’d barely started and had already made a huge mistake. She wanted to double this batch of soap, which meant she needed more distilled water. Why couldn’t she seem to concentrate today?
Setting aside the lye, she picked up the water jug and added the proper amount to the bowl. She was too distracted by her father and Eli. Determined to focus on her work, she again reached for the lye. Removing the lid, she shook the container to get the white chips to fall out into the bowl.
“Lizzie?”
She jerked, splashing lye chips into the water. The caustic liquid spattered her hands and arms and she dropped the container of chips. Of all the foolish things to do...she’d forgotten to put on her rubber gloves.
Thankfully, the lye container thudded onto the counter top rather than spilling across the floor. The last thing she wanted was to clean up a big lye spill. But she flinched in pain as the corrosive alkaline solution burned her bare flesh.
“Ouch!” she cried.
Before she knew what was happening, she found herself leaning over the sink. A gush of fresh water rushed over her hands from the tap.
She stared at the stream for several moments, shocked by what had happened. Then, she looked up at Eli. He stood close, his face only a breath away. He held her hands, his touch gentle but firm.
“Is that better?” he asked.
“Um, ja, it is...”
She couldn’t finish, barely able to gather her thoughts. Their gazes met and she couldn’t have moved away to save her life. She felt locked there, held prisoner by her own suppressed longings. As if time stood still and he had never left Riverton and nothing bad had ever happened between them.
“Does it still hurt?” he asked, his voice slightly husky.
“What...?”
He repeated the question.
She blinked, trying to remember where she was. Trying to think. “Ne, I think it’s fine now.”
“Do you have some vinegar?” he asked.
“Ja.” But she didn’t move.
“Where is it? It’ll help neutralize the lye and stop the burning.”
“Ach, of course.”
With water dripping down her arms, she reached into a cupboard and took out a bottle. Before she could act, he removed it from her hand and unscrewed the lid. He reached for a hand towel and tipped the bottle so that it saturated the fabric. Then he pressed it against the myriad of small splotches on her skin where the lye had burned her. Her nose twitched at the pungent scent of vinegar, but she felt instant relief.
Looking up, she found his lips were but a space away from hers. She felt his warm breath tickle her cheek. Felt the warmth of his fingers against her skin. It happened again. That magnetic attraction she’d thought was long dead.
“Lizzie-bee,” he whispered, drawing nearer.
He kissed her. A soft, gentle caress that filled her with a yearning she had forgotten years ago. She closed her eyes and let herself go...
“Lizzie, Daed needs another pillow.”
They jerked apart as Marty bounced into the kitchen.
Lizzie flinched and turned aside, clasping the dish towel with her hands. As Eli turned off the water faucet, she snuck a worried glance over at Marty, relieved to note that the girl didn’t seem to notice anything wrong. But Lizzie still felt the strong emotions buzzing between her and Eli. Had the moment affected him as much as it had her?
“Of course. I’ll get one right now,” she said, swiveling toward the door.
This was a good excuse to get out of here right now. She stole a glance at Eli, trying to see his face and assess his mood. He ducked his head as he dried his own hands on the discarded towel, seeming completely composed. And it was just as well. After all, he was considering another job in Denver. He was planning to leave again. He had loved Shannon and didn’t want her. Deep in her heart, Lizzie had always known he wouldn’t stay. That the call of the Englisch world was too strong for him to resist. But she’d hoped and prayed he might find life in Riverton too compelling to leave.
Her decision not to let herself fall in love with him again had been wise. And yet, moments like this reminded her of how much they’d once cared for one another. It would be so easy to let down her guard and...
No! She mustn’t think that way. Eli was leaving and that was that.
As she walked out of the kitchen, she didn’t look back to see if Eli was watching her. But she didn’t have to. She could feel his eyes on her just as surely as she lived.