Englisch dreams in an Amish heart…

Her career took her into the Englisch world…

Is love enough to bring her home?

Temporarily in her Amish community to help with her sick brother’s business, nurse Rachel Blank can’t wait to get back to the Englisch world…and far away from Arden Esh. Her brother’s headstrong carpentry partner challenges her at every turn. But when a family crisis redefines their relationship, will Rachel realize the life she really wants is right here…with Arden?

CARRIE LIGHTE lives in Massachusetts next door to a Mennonite farming family, and she frequently spots deer, foxes, fisher cats, coyotes and turkeys in her backyard. Having enjoyed traveling to several Amish communities in the eastern United States, she looks forward to visiting settlements in the western states and in Canada. When she’s not reading, writing or researching, Carrie likes to hike, kayak, bake and play word games.

Also By Carrie Lighte

Amish of Serenity Ridge

Courting the Amish Nanny

The Amish Nurse’s Suitor

Amish Country Courtships

Amish Triplets for Christmas

Anna’s Forgotten Fiancé

An Amish Holiday Wedding

Minding the Amish Baby

Her New Amish Family

Her Amish Holiday Suitor

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

The Amish Nurse’s Suitor

Carrie Lighte

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-0-008-90663-4

THE AMISH NURSE’S SUITOR

© 2020 Carrie Lighte

Published in Great Britain 2020

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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“Maybe my coming here was a mistake.”

Arden was surprised by the plea for reassurance in Rachel’s statement.

“Neh. It wasn’t a mistake.” Upon seeing the fragile vulnerability in Rachel’s eyes, Arden’s heart ballooned with compassion. “Trust me, the community will kumme to help Ivan.”

“In that case, I’d better keep dessert and tea on hand,” Rachel said, smiling once again.

“Does that mean we can’t have a slice of that pie over there?”

“Of course it doesn’t. And since Ivan has no appetite, you and I might as well have large pieces.”

Supping with Rachel after a hard day’s work, encouraging her and discussing Ivan’s care as if he were, well, not a child, but like a child, felt… It felt like how Arden always imagined it would feel if he had a family of his own. Which was probably why, half an hour later as he directed his horse toward home, Arden’s stomach was full but he couldn’t shake the aching emptiness he felt inside.

She is going back, so I’d better not get too accustomed to her company, as pleasant as

it’s turning out to be.

Dear Reader,

During the many years I lived or vacationed in Maine, I never saw a moose in the wild. Frankly, after all I’ve heard and read about them, I’m not sure I’d want to see one except from the safety of my home or from my car as I drive in the opposite direction. Which isn’t to suggest most moose are aggressive toward humans, because usually they’re not, although they can be unpredictable and at thirty-five miles per hour, they’d definitely be able to outrun me.

However, since the moose is Maine’s state animal, I’d be remiss if I didn’t allow one to wander through the pages of my Serenity Ridge series. That’s one of the wonderful things about writing and reading fiction—it allows us to encounter people, places and things we might not otherwise meet.

As for whether this is the last time Serenity Ridge’s heroes and heroines cross paths with this great animal… I hope you’ll read the next two books to find out!

Blessings,

Carrie Lighte

But the wisdom that is from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, and easy to be intreated, full of mercy and good fruits, without partiality, and without hypocrisy.

—James 3:17

For the kind Englischers and Amish people of Unity, Maine, who enthusiastically helped me with my research, and with thanks to my brother for “talking shop” about lumber.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Introduction

Dear Reader

Bible Verse

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Epilogue

Extract

About the Publisher

Chapter One

“Toby probably didn’t think I was ambitious or smart enough for him,” Rachel Blank told her roommate, Meg.

It had been nearly two weeks since her boyfriend had broken up with her—the same amount of time Meg had been away on vacation—and by this point Rachel was more angry than sad.

“Not ambitious or smart enough?” Meg’s voice rose with incredulity. “What else would he call someone who started out with an eighth-grade education but later earned her GED, her BSN, and is going to school to become a nurse practitioner?”

“He doesn’t know I applied to the MSN program, and I haven’t actually been accepted into it yet, either,” Rachel protested feebly. Meg didn’t seem to hear. She was pacing in front of the sofa, counting on her fingers as she reeled off Rachel’s accomplishments.

“You’ve learned to drive, you’ve learned to swim and you’ve mastered more technology than many people who’ve grown up surrounded by it. Not to mention you’re fluent in three languages—English, German and Deitsch. If the tables were turned, Dr. Toby Grand wouldn’t last a week living like an Amish person.”

Rachel appreciated her roommate’s impassioned defense of her, but she was uncomfortable with her praise. When she left her Amish community and family ten years ago, they’d accused Rachel of hochmut. High-mindedness. Pride. They said her pursuit of higher education was, among other things, an attempt to draw attention to herself. The implication stung so deeply that even now at twenty-eight she resisted it when anyone pointed out her accomplishments. Which, fortunately for her, Toby had rarely done. Instead, he’d pushed her to reach more difficult goals, which was one of the reasons Rachel hadn’t told him she’d applied to an MSN program; she didn’t want to disappoint him if she was rejected.

“Well, those weren’t his exact words. But even if they were, I suppose I understand why he wants to date Brianna. She’s a doctor, too. I’m only a nurse.”

“Only a nurse?” Meg stopped pacing and thrust her hands on her hips. Meg was also a nurse, although she worked in a hospital, whereas Rachel worked at a clinic in the suburbs.

“Neh, neh, neh, I’m not saying I think nurses are inferior.” Rachel sometimes accidentally reverted to Deitsch when she was flustered. “That’s what Toby thinks. He says Brianna has more in common with him than I do.”

“Yeah. They’re both sneaks.”

Toby had only broken up with Rachel after he’d been on several dates with Brianna, the practice’s newly hired doctor. That’s what vexed Rachel most—the betrayal.

“They probably thought it would be easy to pull one over on the naive Amish girl. And they were right. I had no idea Toby and Brianna had been seeing each other.”

“That’s not because of your Amish background. It’s because you’re an honest person who extended trust to someone you loved.”

Did I love Toby? Rachel asked herself. During the ten months of their relationship, she’d definitely developed stronger feelings for him than for any man she’d dated, and she’d thought those feelings were reciprocated. In fact, when Toby came over to break up with her, his expression had been so somber she’d suspected he was about to propose. The ironic thing was, she wasn’t sure how she would have answered. Afterward, as devastated as she was by the circumstances of their breakup, a small part of her felt relieved he hadn’t asked her to marry him.

Meg shook a finger at Rachel. “You’d better not ever take him back.”

“I doubt he’d ever want to come back, but no, I absolutely wouldn’t go out with him again. He crossed a line that can’t be uncrossed,” Rachel assured her friend. “With God’s grace I’ll forgive him eventually, but right now, it’s hard enough to even look at him at work.”

Regardless, each day she held her head high and made a point to greet him and Brianna with a big smile, knowing the kind of office rumors that would erupt if she gave any indication of how deceived or miffed she really felt. She wouldn’t give her coworkers the satisfaction. Maybe I have more hochmut than I care to admit, she mused.

“You should take a vacation. Maybe go to Maine for a few days…”

Rachel recognized Meg was hinting she should visit her family. Her roommate was one of the few people Rachel had confided in about how much she missed them sometimes. But missing them and visiting them were two different matters. Rachel hadn’t been baptized into the Amish church before she left for the Englisch world, so she wasn’t in the Bann, but in some ways, she felt like she might as well have been.

Both of her parents had passed away before she left her Amish community in Serenity Ridge, Maine. Rachel had two older married brothers, Colin and Albert, and one younger brother, Ivan, a bachelor. Initially her family members had been understandably hurt, disappointed and angry when Rachel told them she was moving to Massachusetts to pursue an education in nursing. Colin’s wife, Hadassah, claimed she spoke for the entire family when she told Rachel unless and until she returned to Serenity Ridge and the Amish for good, she shouldn’t bother to return at all.

Rachel thought in time they’d come to accept her decision even if they disagreed with it. Yet her monthly letters went unanswered, except by her youngest brother, Ivan, who wrote twice a year—at Christmas and Easter. But Easter had passed a week ago without a note from him, either. She was beginning to accept that although she’d never stop praying for or loving her family, the same might not be true for them.

“I’ve had enough rejection for the time being.”

“Then you should go somewhere fun.” Meg snapped her fingers. “A Christian singles’ cruise! Wouldn’t Toby and the people at work faint if you came back from the Bahamas with a new boyfriend? That would shatter their assumptions about you.”

As well as Rachel had adapted to the Englisch lifestyle, she couldn’t picture herself going on a singles’ cruise, even if she were desperate to meet a man, which she most definitely was not. If she’d made it through the heartache of leaving her family behind at eighteen, she’d make it through life without a boyfriend at twenty-eight. Her faith, career and friendships were all she needed to be fulfilled. In fact, the breakup couldn’t have come at a better time, since she’d soon have to devote herself to furthering her education. “No, I’m saving every cent I have for tuition. If I get in to the MSN program, I’ll be too busy studying to have time for a relationship.”

“First of all, it’s not if you get in to the MSN program, it’s when. Secondly, you’ll be too busy for a relationship? Wow. You sound more Englisch than I do!”

Rachel chuckled again, but the truth was, she didn’t feel particularly Englisch. Nor did she feel Amish. She felt…alone. No—she felt independent. And that suited her just fine.

Arden Esh had stacked so much mail on the little desk in the workshop the pile slid like an avalanche onto the floor. He stooped to pick up the envelopes. Sooner or later he was going to have to open them. He hoped they were bills and not customer orders; he and his business partner, Ivan Blank, needed all the sales they could get. They’d sunk every spare cent into advertising their shed-building business, and after three years of barely profiting, this spring they hoped to see an increase in revenue.

Arden couldn’t imagine how, exactly, that was going to happen with him manning the shop alone. Not that money was the most important matter at the moment—Ivan’s recovery was. He’d been sick for almost two weeks, and two days ago he wound up in the hospital.

Last evening when Arden visited him there, Ivan had barely opened his eyes. Arden had chatted about the shed he’d just finished. He didn’t even know if Ivan was awake until Ivan pulled aside his oxygen mask and rasped, “Would you write to Rachel? Ask her to kumme as soon as she can. She’ll help you in the shop. Don’t…” He was having difficulty breathing. “Don’t tell anyone, though.”

Initially, Arden had been taken aback by the request. Ivan often spoke fondly of his sister, who’d left the Amish a decade ago to become a nurse. They’d kept in touch, but Ivan had confided that his sister-in-law Hadassah made it clear Rachel wasn’t welcome to visit. Arden felt a pang of guilt, aware that Ivan wouldn’t have subjected his family to the tension of a reunion if he believed Arden could manage the shop—specifically, the paperwork—by himself. Long ago the two men had come to an unspoken understanding about the division of their responsibilities. For lack of a better expression, in many ways Ivan was the brains of the operation and Arden was the brawn.

Considering Ivan’s family hadn’t supported his business venture from the beginning, Arden understood why Ivan was reluctant to ask one of his brothers for help with administrative tasks during his illness. Ivan said Rachel was a very intelligent, capable woman who’d often expressed her desire to see him again. But her presence would undoubtedly create controversy. Regardless, Ivan was the one who had founded the business, so even though Arden had eventually become an equal partner in it, he deferred to Ivan’s judgment in the matter.

Now, as Arden searched the desk for Ivan’s address book, a disturbing possibility occurred to him: Ivan wanted Rachel to visit because he believed he was dying and wanted to say goodbye. The very thought stopped Arden cold. He immediately dropped to his knees. Dear Gott, if it’s Your will, please heal Ivan. Give those caring for him wisdom and fill him with a sense of Your loving presence. Amen. Then, knowing no request was too small or too big for the Lord, he added, And please help me find that address book.

He stood, brushed the knees of his trousers and lifted a stack of catalogs. Beneath them was a blank piece of paper with the salutation Dear Rachel scrawled at the top, and beneath the stationery was an addressed, stamped envelope. Ivan must have begun writing his annual Easter letter to his sister—he was nothing if not conscientious—but he had been too sick to finish it. Silently thanking the Lord for the unexpected way He’d answered his prayer, Arden cleared a space at the desk, sat down and picked up a pen.

As he stared at the blank page, his hairline beaded with perspiration and his tongue tasted sour. This was why Ivan handled virtually all of the paperwork while Arden compensated by doing whatever heavy lifting Ivan’s slighter frame couldn’t handle. It wasn’t that Arden couldn’t read or write—it was that it took him so painfully long because the letters often seemed to jump around and didn’t make any sense. It had been that way for as long as he could remember, and although his schoolteacher had thought he’d outgrow it if he practiced more or tried harder, he never did. The only thing more daunting to Arden than a page filled with text was a completely blank sheet of paper. He threw down the pen and strode to the other side of the workshop to pick up a hammer. Now this was a tool he could use as deftly as if it were an extension of his own arm.

How could Ivan ask me to write to his sister, of all people? When Ivan spoke of Rachel, there was nothing except admiration and affection in his voice. But there were others in Serenity Ridge whose opinions of Rachel weren’t as high; they indicated she thought herself a tad superior to those in her family and community. If their assessment of her character was correct, Arden expected she’d have a good laugh about the “ignorant” Amish man’s spelling.

No, Arden couldn’t write to her. As he drove a nail into a floor joist, he thought, If I can find that address book, I’ll look up her phone number and call her instead. But by the end of the day, he’d turned the desk upside down and inside out and come up empty-handed. He was going to have to face the page. Maybe his mother or his younger sister, Grace, would proofread the letter. No, I can’t show it to them. Ivan said not to tell anyone else he wants Rachel to kumme.

He took a deep breath and stared at the stationery. What should he say? “Your brother is in the hospital with pneumonia”? He doubted he could get the spelling right for the word hospital, much less pneumonia. One thing he’d learned over the years—when it came to writing, reading and speaking, shorter was better. With his hand shaking as much as if he’d just downed four cups of coffee, Arden positioned his pen under the words Dear Rachel and inscribed:

Your brother is very ill. Please come soon if you can.

Signed,

Arden Esh

Arden chewed the end of the pen. Had he spelled signed correctly? Words that were spelled differently than they sounded gave him the most trouble. But if he crossed it out, it would look too messy and he’d have to start over with a new sheet. The prospect made him shudder. He folded the paper in quarters, slid it into the envelope and carried it to the mailbox at the end of the long driveway.

Even though he was doing exactly what Ivan had asked him to do, Arden couldn’t escape the feeling he was letting him down. If only Arden didn’t have such difficulty with words, he could take care of the paperwork himself. Of course, if Arden didn’t have such trouble with words, he never would have moved to Maine, because he would have been able to get through an interview and secure a factory job in Indiana. I’d probably be married with two or three kinner by now, too.

Arden was glad Serenity Ridge’s Amish community was small with very few single women; it gave him a plausible excuse for not courting anyone. The couple of times he’d walked out with anyone in Indiana had been utterly discouraging. His verbal difficulties had made him more nervous than usual, rendering him speechless. The women must have construed his silence as disinterest or else thought he was stupid, because none of them walked out with him for long.

It’s just as well, he consoled himself, remembering. Courting is intended to lead to marriage, and marriage leads to bobblin. Arden’s father had suffered the same problem as Arden, but to a lesser degree. Assuming the issue was hereditary, Arden couldn’t knowingly subject his offspring to a lifetime of the kind of shame, frustration and struggles he’d faced. He’d decided years ago not to torment himself—or disappoint a woman—by engaging in courtship when he knew it wouldn’t progress to marriage.

Just because I can’t be a husband or a daed doesn’t mean I’m not responsible for making the most of the opportunities Gott has given me, including supporting my schweschder and mamm, he thought. So I’ve got to do whatever it takes to keep the business afloat during Ivan’s illness. Even if that meant working side by side with Ivan’s condescending Englisch sister.

“You got in so late last night I didn’t get to ask how Ivan is,” his sister said to Arden later over a supper of bottboi, an Amish version of pot pie made with chicken and noodles.

“He was resting well.” Arden didn’t want to worry Grace. She had her hands full taking care of their mother, Oneita, who was experiencing a severe flare of lupus symptoms.

As supportive as their community in Maine was, Arden frequently regretted he’d had to relocate his mother and sister so far from their beloved district in Indiana. Since he couldn’t get a factory job and there was a surplus of carpenters in the area, Arden had moved to Maine some three years ago when he heard about the shed-building opportunity with Ivan. Shortly afterward, Arden’s father had died, so Arden had brought his mother and sister out to live in Serenity Ridge, as well.

“I wish I could visit him,” Grace said. “So he knows how much I—we—care about him.”

Arden appreciated his sister’s sentiment, but she couldn’t leave their mother alone in her current condition. Even if Grace wanted to go to the hospital after Arden returned home for the evening, cab fare was an expense they could scarcely afford. “I told him you were praying.”

“Jah, but I want to do something tangible, the way other people do for Mamm when she’s ill. Maybe I could make meals to put in his freezer for when he comes home.”

“He’d probably wilkom that,” Arden agreed. He forced himself to dismiss his niggling fear about Ivan’s health declining even further.

“I can clean the haus for him, too. Make sure he has fresh sheets and do the dusting and window washing. I’ll do it when Jaala comes over to visit Mamm tomorrow.”

“That’s a wunderbaar idea.” Arden figured even if Ivan didn’t get out of the hospital for a while, at least Ivan’s sister would appreciate arriving to a clean house.

On Thursday evening Rachel described to Meg how mortified she’d been when she walked in on Brianna and Toby kissing in the break room that day. She’d quickly grabbed her lunch from the fridge and eaten it in her car, which would have been enjoyable because the weather was so warm, but her allergies caused her eyes and nose to run. When she returned to the office, her coworkers assumed she’d been crying over Toby and Brianna’s break-room canoodling.

“Unbelievable,” Meg empathized. “But it might brighten your day to know you have mail on the hall table.”

Was it news from the university? Even though she knew it was immature, Rachel couldn’t wait until Toby found out she’d been accepted into the program. Countless times since he’d broken up with her she’d imagined his stunned expression when she oh-so-casually told her coworkers she was resigning to get her MSN… Unless she didn’t get into the program. At the possibility, Rachel’s stomach twisted into a knot. Then she remembered she would receive the decision via email, not regular post. When she retrieved the letter, she noticed the address was written in her brother’s familiar cursive.

“It’s from Ivan!” she announced, chagrined that she’d doubted he wanted to keep in touch. But when she scanned the letter, her knees wobbled and she dropped into a chair. “Oh neh.”

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

Rachel extended the paper to her roommate. “My bruder is sick.”

It only took a second for Meg to read the message. “This is upsetting, but I’m sure everything’s going to be okay,” she said, giving Rachel a hug. “C’mon, I’ll help you pack so you’ll be ready to go first thing in the morning.”

Following her, Rachel fretted, “Ivan’s so ill he couldn’t even write to me himself. I can’t believe my other brothers didn’t contact me sooner. What if he’s dying? What if I’m too late?”

Meg twirled around and placed her hands firmly on Rachel’s shoulders. “You won’t know how sick Ivan is until you get there. It’s not helpful to imagine the worst-case scenario.”

“That’s true,” Rachel hesitantly concurred.

Meg pulled a suitcase from the closet and opened it across the bed. “Do you think you’ll be calm enough to drive? If you need me to take you, I will.”

Meg was the closest person Rachel had to a sister and she loved her for her generosity and support, but Rachel knew she’d used the last of her PTO to go on vacation. “Thanks, but I’ll be fine. And you’re right—I can’t let my imagination get the best of me.”

But as she lay awake in bed an hour later, Rachel’s apprehension about Ivan’s health returned. Very ill, the note had said, but what did that mean? Ivan always described his business partner in glowing terms, but Arden must have been quite dense not to have provided more details. Or maybe he was deliberately terse; it was possible he only wrote the note because Ivan pressed him to write it since no one else would. Either way, Rachel hoped their paths wouldn’t cross too often while she was in Serenity Ridge. After Toby broke up with her, Rachel had made up her mind to stay as far away from thoughtless, insensitive men like him as she could.

Leaving early the next morning, Rachel prayed during most of the three-and-a-half-hour drive from Boston to Maine, but the closer she got to Serenity Ridge, the queasier she became. Not only was she anxious about Ivan’s health, but she was uneasy about the reception she’d get from her family. As she crested the long hill leading to her old home—the house Ivan, the youngest boy in their family, had inherited according to their Amish tradition—her hands were clammy on the steering wheel. Would she find her brothers in the yard? Maybe her sisters-in-law would be in the kitchen, making soup for Ivan.

On first glance she didn’t spot any buggies when she pulled up in the driveway, nor did she see anyone as she crossed the lawn and climbed the porch stairs. It seemed strange to knock on the door of the place she’d once called home, but Rachel rapped twice and waited, stealing a look around the front yard. When no one came, she knocked again, louder. No response. Like most of the Amish in Serenity Ridge, the Blanks didn’t lock their doors, so Rachel pushed it open.

“Ivan? Hello?” She timidly crossed the threshold. “Anyone home?”

She passed through the kitchen and stuck her head into the living room—no one was there, either. Then she went upstairs, announcing her presence. If her brother was sleeping, she didn’t want to startle him by bursting into his room. “Ivan, it’s me, Rachel.”

His room was empty, the bed made. This was where Ivan slept as a boy—now that he has his choice of rooms, he probably moved into the bigger one at the end of the hall. But he wasn’t there, either. As she darted to check the other two bedrooms, Rachel noticed the unmistakable scent of vinegar—someone had recently washed the windows. In fact, the entire house had been scrubbed clean. It was immaculate, as if no one had ever lived there. That could only mean one thing—the women from church had cleaned Ivan’s house, as was their practice when someone died. It was a way of caring for the family of the bereaved, who were expected to host the community after a funeral. Rachel collapsed onto the bed in her old room and sobbed, her worst fear realized: she was too late.

Arden stopped hammering. He thought he’d heard a vehicle pull up the lane, so he waited for the customer to enter the workshop. When no one did, he resumed pounding until a couple of moments later, when he realized maybe it was Ivan’s sister who had arrived. He set his hammer down and blew a curly lock of hair from his forehead. Meeting new people, especially Englischers, wasn’t something he relished or excelled at doing.

Outside he noticed the little green sedan had Massachusetts plates, so Arden ambled slowly toward the house and pushed open the door. Taking a deep breath, he mentally prepared to say hello, but Rachel wasn’t in the kitchen. Figuring she was in the bathroom, he waited for her to come out, but after a few minutes he concluded she wasn’t in there, either.

“Hello?” he called as he entered the living room. “Hello?”

There were footsteps on the staircase, and then a young, slender Englisch woman dressed in a long green skirt and black top appeared in the doorway of the living room. Her auburn hair hung to her shoulders in soft layers. She must have either had a cold or else she’d been crying, because she dabbed her red-rimmed nostrils with a tissue.

“Hello,” she murmured, glancing up at him. She had the same broad forehead and narrow jaw as her brother, although her almond-shaped eyes were hazel instead of brown, and now that he looked into them, Arden was convinced he had indeed caught her weeping. As if an introduction were necessary, she said, “I’m Ivan’s sister, Rachel Blank.”

“I’m Arden Esh, the one who wrote to you. I’m your brother’s business partner.”

Rachel nodded solemnly. “Ivan told me about you. He was very…” There was a catch in her voice. “He was very appreciative of your skills.”

“Denki,” Arden muttered. He wasn’t used to receiving compliments from a woman, nor was he accustomed to chatting with someone who was clearly fighting back tears. Generally speaking, the Amish were less demonstrative about their emotions than the Englisch.

Rachel broke eye contact and took a seat on the sofa. She smoothed her skirt as she spoke. “Denki for writing to me. When did Ivan…how did he…”

As her chin dropped to her chest, her hair made a curtain obscuring her face, but from the way her shoulders were quivering, Arden could tell she was crying. Whenever he’d interacted with medical professionals, they came across as calm and collected, no matter how severe an injury or bleak a diagnosis, so Rachel’s behavior caught him off guard.

“I’d, uh, I’d say it was about ten or twelve days ago when he came down with a bad case of bronchitis. But it turned out it wasn’t really bronchitis—or maybe it started out that way, but then it developed into—” Arden paused, afraid he’d stumble over the word pneumonia. It was easier to describe the symptoms instead. “Each day it became more and more difficult for him to breathe. But then yesterday his condition, uh, took a turn…”

Rachel lifted her head to look at him, and Arden knew his cheeks were flushed. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me anything else right now,” she said tearfully.

He thought learning that her brother was improving would have made her happier. “Do you want tea?” he suggested, hoping she didn’t so he could go. “Or to lie down upstairs?”

“No, thanks. I’d rather not. Too many memories. I’ll book myself into a hotel.”

Arden expressed his surprise. “Oh. I think Ivan hoped you’d stay here. You know, to care for the animals and keep an eye on the haus. But I can continue doing that if you’d rather not.”

She slowly shook her head. “No. If that’s what Ivan wanted, I’ll honor his request. It’s only for a few days. I imagine the livestock will go to Colin or Albert after the funeral, right?”

“The funeral? Whose funeral?”

Rachel’s mouth gnarled into a frown. “Whose do you think? Ivan’s funeral,” she sobbed.

The room tilted as it usually did when he panicked, and Arden couldn’t find the words fast enough to explain. He couldn’t find them at all, not with Rachel bawling into her hands like that, her shoulders convulsing, and Arden knowing he was somehow the cause of her distress.

“Your—your—your bruder isn’t ha-having a funeral,” he stuttered. Then he clarified bluntly, “Ivan’s not dead.”

Rachel’s shoulders lifted and dropped a few more times before she turned her head toward him, still bent forward, her arms crossed against her chest, her face red. “What did you say?”

“Ivan’s not dead. He’s in the hospital. He has pneu-pneu-pneum…” The word wouldn’t come out, but it didn’t matter anyway. Rachel shot from the room and within seconds Arden heard her retching in the bathroom. He pushed his hand through his hair and circled the braided rug, wondering whether he should check on her.

Before he could decide, she flew back into the room, her eyes blazing. “What is wrong with you?”

Humiliation scalded Arden’s face and reduced him to being a schoolchild at the chalkboard again, struggling to solve what should have been a simple word problem. What is wrong with me was a question he’d asked himself countless times since then, and he still didn’t know the answer.

“How could you send me a note like that? How could you stand there and tell me about my bruder fighting to breathe and his condition taking a turn, especially since I came here to find the house empty and immaculate? You had to have known I thought Ivan died!” She gasped and then pressed a hand against her lips and the other against her heart, as if to quiet them both.

She was right; the misunderstanding was his fault. He should have expressed himself better. He had no defense; all he could do was apologize. “I’m sorry. It was a miscom-commun-communication.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Rachel uttered, but the fight had gone out of her voice, and her shoulders drooped, too. She wiped beneath her eyes and stated more than asked, “Ivan’s still alive?”

“Jah. He’s in the hospital, but he’s getting better.”

Rachel sniffed, nodding. Then she said, “I think I need a glass of water.”

“I’ll get it.” Arden was relieved to have an excuse to leave the room. When he returned, Rachel was perched in a straight-backed chair on the opposite side of the coffee table. He handed her the glass and reluctantly lowered himself onto the sofa. After apologizing again, he told her he’d be too busy filling orders to manage the administrative side of their business, which was why Ivan had requested Rachel come to Serenity Ridge.

“I’m surprised he didn’t ask Colin or Albert or their wives. Or someone else from the district.”

“Our community is still relatively small, and spring is planting season. Your brother Albert and his wife went to Ontario because her mother is sick. As for Colin, his roofing business picks up at this time of year, too. Ivan didn’t ask Hadassah because she’s, uh…”

“Too bossy?”

Arden suppressed a chuckle. Ivan had mentioned Hadassah’s habit of giving him unsolicited advice, but that wasn’t the only reason he hesitated to involve her in their business. “She’s, uh, with child. Twins, apparently. She tires easily.”

“Oh, so Ivan didn’t have any choice other than to ask me.”

“Neh, neh. That’s not why. I’m sure it’s because of how schmaert and competent you are.” His response brought a sliver of a smile to Rachel’s lips.

“I’m glad to help for as long as I’m needed,” she replied.

“Ivan will be relieved to hear that,” Arden said. But not half as relieved as I’ll be when it’s time for you to go.

Sitting across from Rachel with his large hands resting on his knees as he squeezed his legs into the space between the sofa and the coffee table, Arden appeared as tentative as a young boy who’d just been scolded and was afraid to move for fear of further punishment. Pale blue eyes and a mass of curly, dirty-blond hair contributed to his youthful appearance, but given his manly physique and the faint crinkle of skin at the corners of his eyes, Rachel figured he was about thirty-one or thirty-two years old. His thick, level brows emphasized the rectangular shape of his forehead, but it was his mouth that captured her attention—she wondered what it would take to put a smile on those broad lips.

I suppose it’s my fault he looks so grim. It’s possible I overreacted. Before Rachel could think of a way to lighten the mood, an approaching vehicle interrupted the silence.

Rising, Arden said, “That might be a delivery. I should get back to the workshop.”

Rachel stood, too, subconsciously estimating Arden’s height at six-one or six-two as she walked him to the door. She watched as he hurried down the stairs and across the driveway. She knew men in the Englisch world who spent hours at the gym trying to develop a similar physique: small waist, broad shoulders and biceps so muscular she could see their outline beneath his cobalt-blue cotton shirt. That must have been what Ivan meant when he jokingly wrote one of Arden’s strengths was his strength, which was a good thing, because one of Ivan’s weaknesses was his weakness.

My poor bruder is probably weaker than ever right now. Keenly aware that pneumonia severe enough to be hospitalized sometimes could be a touch-and-go condition, Rachel thanked the Lord that Ivan was still alive and after ten years, she was finally about to see him again.

Chapter Two

After bringing her suitcase in from the car, Rachel washed her face and took her cell phone out of her purse. The low-battery warning flashed, so she quickly texted Meg—Rachel had promised to let her know when she arrived—and made a mental note to pick up a phone charger she could use in her car, since there was no electricity in the house. She was about to get back in her car when she realized she hadn’t asked which hospital Ivan was in, nor had Arden volunteered the information. I wonder if there’s much information that he ever volunteers, she mused as she walked toward the backyard. He might not be as thoughtless as I suspected he was, but he’s definitely a man of few words.

Remembering how Ivan had written he’d converted the barn into a workshop and the smaller workshop into a stable, Rachel thought back to when her family moved to Maine from Ohio some twenty years ago. Her father had built a barn big enough for their milk cows, horses, buggy and equipment. He’d also constructed a small workshop for personal use. He and his cousin started a metal roofing supply and installation business, but because the cousin’s land was more centrally located to the Englisch community, their main workshop was housed on his property, which Colin now owned. Rachel’s brother Albert was a partner in the business, too.

Ivan was the only one who hadn’t taken up the family trade. He had a deeply rooted fear of heights, a fear Colin and Albert had reportedly accommodated by assigning Ivan administrative responsibilities in the shop. Although he was adept at accounting and customer service, Ivan soon grew restless. Rachel understood perfectly why building sheds was a better fit for his blend of carpentry skills and temperament, but Colin and Albert undoubtedly believed Ivan should have derived satisfaction from participating in the family business. Although he’d never written about any conflict directly, Rachel could imagine Ivan’s professional choice was met with nearly as much family opposition as Rachel’s decision to leave the Amish.

Entering the barn through a new side door labeled Customer Entrance, Rachel surveyed the workshop, impressed by how bright and tidy the spacious interior was. Four small buildings in various stages of construction were situated in separate quarters of the work area. Metal shelving held an assortment of equipment, tools and other supplies along the periphery of the room on one side. A substantial quantity of lumber was stacked in racks near the wall on the other two sides, and what appeared to be recently installed overhead doors ran the length of the fourth wall. Rachel paused and inhaled the piney scent.

Because Arden wasn’t in sight and the hum of the nearby generator was so loud, she shouted his name. Hunched over, he emerged from a little wooden structure that looked more like an oversize dollhouse than a shed. When he straightened to his full height beside it, he reminded her of an illustration of a giant in a children’s book, and she giggled.

“If that’s the size of the house, I can only imagine how tiny its shed is.”

Arden glowered. “It’s a playhouse for an Englischer’s eight-year-old dochder. It might seem frivolous to you, but it’s what the customer ordered and we need the business.”

Rachel instantly regretted her joke. She wasn’t mocking his work—with its scalloped eaves and miniature window boxes, the tiny house was beautifully designed. It took her by surprise to see him come out of it, that’s all. “I forgot to ask which hospital Ivan is at, the one in Waterville or in Pittsfield?”

“Neither. It’s the one in Belridge.”

“Belridge? That must be new since I lived here. Can you tell me how to get there?”

Arden squinted and rubbed his neck as if it was giving him a headache. “You take 202 through Unity.”

“And then?” she prompted.

“Don’t you have PSG?”

Finding it ironic an Amish person would suggest she use technology, Rachel chuckled. “You mean GPS?”

“Jah. You should use that. It’s more accurate, and I’m busy.”

“Oh, okay,” Rachel replied, but Arden had already ducked back into the playhouse. His abrupt departure made her feel foolish. It could have been he was stressed out about his workload, but she got the feeling he was annoyed with her for joking around.

At the end of the driveway, Rachel let the car’s engine run idle. If she turned right, the same way she came in, she’d head toward the highway. If she turned left, she’d travel directly past Colin’s property. Colin or Hadassah surely would be able to tell Rachel how to get to the hospital, assuming they were home and willing to talk to her. But if they give me the cold shoulder, I might end up blubbering again, and I need to stay as upbeat as I can before visiting Ivan. Without further hesitation, Rachel turned right. If her Amish family and Ivan’s coworker couldn’t be counted on to give her directions, she’d just have to stop at the nearest gas station, where she’d ask an Englisch stranger to help her find her way.

Arden waited until he was certain Rachel had driven away before coming out of the playhouse again. He felt like such a dummkopf in her presence. The rumors he’d heard were proving to be more accurate than not; Rachel was rather smug, giggling at the way he’d botched up that acronym. As for directions to the hospital, he saw the trip in his mind’s eye so clearly he could have led her there blindfolded, but telling her how to get there was another story. Arden might as well have tried to talk her through the Sahara Desert and back again.

What really irked him, though, was the way she’d looked down her nose at his work on the playhouse. It was one thing for her to be amused by his verbal inadequacies, but Arden took great care to produce high-quality products. Even if it seemed impractical by Amish standards, the playhouse was meaningful to the customer, Mrs. McGregor, and Arden was committed to surpassing her expectations for craftsmanship and service. Not to mention, he was dedicated to doing whatever he could, in good conscience, for the business to prosper.

And as Arden had just discovered, sometimes that meant completing customers’ orders sooner than originally promised. Mrs. McGregor had come to inquire if he could finish the project the following Friday, a week ahead of schedule. Since it was the end of April and several customers wanted their sheds ready before summer, Arden was juggling other projects simultaneously. But because painting the playhouse was virtually all he needed to do before the project was completed, Arden agreed. Mrs. McGregor subsequently produced two gallons of her daughter’s favorite shade of paint for Arden to use. Lovely Lavender, she’d called it. Or was it Lively Lilac? Either way, it looked purple to him.

I’ll have to ask Rachel to schedule the earlier delivery, he reminded himself. Sometimes Arden kept so many details in his head he was surprised his skull didn’t tilt to the side, but recording information in his brain was far easier for him than jotting it down on paper.

As he took a swig of water from his thermal cup, he heard another vehicle in the driveway—too loud to be Rachel’s—and went outside. Two men jumped down from the cab of a large flatbed truck and headed his way.

The stockier one, who had the name Bob emblazoned on his shirt pocket, said, “The shake shingles will arrive from our Montville site on Tuesday, but as you can see, we’ve brought your two-by-sixes.”

“That can’t all be mine,” Arden objected, surveying the load.

The taller, wiry guy snorted. “Funny.”

Arden wasn’t joking. “I didn’t order that much. Our customers have been choosing pine, so we only need half as much cedar as usual. That looks like twice the amount.”

“Hang on a sec.” Bob retrieved a clipboard from the cab and brought it to Arden. Tapping it with his knuckle he said, “Yup. Someone named Allen put in the order. Signature’s right here.”

“Arden,” Arden corrected the man. “That’s me, but that’s not the quantity I ordered.”

For as much difficulty as he had with reading and writing, Arden didn’t have any problem with math. Knight’s was a new lumberyard; maybe they’d made a mistake. Arden and Ivan had only been contracted with them for a couple of months, so perhaps the employees were confusing theirs with an Englisch business.

“Your paperwork shows you did. Check for yourself—it’s a photocopy of the order you placed. The note says you mailed it in.” Bob handed the clipboard to Arden.

Arden distinctly recalled the afternoon he’d tried to phone in the order—the Ordnung allowed cell phones and solar chargers for business use—as he’d done with the previous lumberyard he and Ivan patronized. The clerk insisted he’d have to place the order online, by fax or in person, because they required a customer signature. Arden explained he didn’t have a computer or fax machine and the lumberyard was too far away for his horse to get there in one day, which caused the woman to crack up. When she realized Arden was indeed Amish, she’d apologized profusely.

“You can make up an order sheet yourself. Just use the product codes from the catalog and indicate the amounts. You don’t even have to write the sizes down, because we can tell exactly what you want by the codes, but don’t forget to sign your name at the bottom.”

Studying the sheet now, Arden’s mouth went dry. It looked right to him, but then again, he misread things more often than not.

After a minute, Bob took the clipboard back. He pointed to the left of the page, “See here? This is the product code for cedar two-by-sixes. This is the amount you ordered. Here’s the product code for the shake shingles, and again, you wrote the amount right beside it.”

That explained it: Arden had been so concerned about accidentally transposing letters when he copied the product codes from the catalog that he’d proofread them three or four times. Unfortunately, he didn’t pay as careful attention to the quantities. He must have matched the quantity of two-by-sixes with the product code for the shake shingles and vice versa. Red-faced, he admitted his error to Bob.

“We only need half as much cedar, and we’ll need double the amount of shake shingles.”

“Doubling the shake shingles won’t be a problem since they haven’t shipped yet,” Bob said. “But if we return half of this load, you’re going to have to pay a handling fee plus the standard mileage rate for us to return it to the yard. Those are the terms of your contract.”

Arden didn’t know what to do. He and Ivan had budgeted down to the penny for inventory. They couldn’t afford to pay for a surplus like this right now. But it would be a complete waste of money to pay for the drivers to return the wood to the lumberyard.

“All right. We’ll keep it.”

When they finished unloading and stacking as much of the lumber as they could on the racks that weren’t already filled with pine, they piled the rest of it on the floor.

“Per your contract, there’s a 10 percent discount if you pay us now,” Bob told him.

Arden wished he would have read the contract or that Bob had reminded him of the discount while they were unloading—it would have given him more time to write the check. Arden wrote especially slowly if he felt as if someone was breathing down his neck. His pen hovered over the payee line.

“How do you spell Knight’s again?” he asked, and the taller guy snickered while Bob dictated the spelling.

As they sauntered away, Arden heard the wiry man remark to Bob, “I guess someone who graduated from a one-room schoolhouse isn’t going to win any spelling bees, huh?”

“Maybe not, but he sure does nice work,” Bob replied, gesturing toward the playhouse. “Wish I could afford something like that for my kid. It’s nicer than my own home.”

Arden’s face was still hot when his sister walked through the door some ten minutes later. “What’s wrong, Grace? Is Mamm okay?”

“Jah, she’s fine. Rebecca Miller is visiting her, so I came over with cheeseburger supp to put in Ivan’s freezer, along with kuche for his pantry. I know other women in the district will be bringing him meals when he’s discharged from the hospital, but I want him to have plenty to choose from while he’s recovering.”

“Oh. I, um, don’t know if that’s a gut idea.”

“Why not? Doesn’t he like cheeseburger supp?”

“Neh, that’s not it.” Arden knew Ivan hadn’t wanted anyone to find out about Rachel coming, lest Colin interfered and stopped her. Now that Rachel had arrived, Arden figured it was only a matter of time until Colin and his family learned of her presence—and even when they did, there was little they could do about it. Still, he was reluctant to be the one to spill the beans. “His, uh, schweschder is visiting. She’s staying in his haus.”

“His sister? The schmaert one who became an Englisch nurse?”

Arden bristled at the mention of Rachel’s intelligence. “Ivan only has one sister. And jah, Rachel’s a nurse.”

“She’s kumme to take care of him?”

While Arden would have preferred it if other people believed Rachel had come specifically to take care of Ivan rather than to help Arden with business matters, that wouldn’t explain why she’d arrived when Ivan was still in the hospital. “Jah, and to, uh, help with some of the administrative tasks at the shop—since I’ll be too busy making sheds to do the paperwork.”

“That’s wunderbaar. Since she’s a nurse, maybe she’ll take a look at the skin on Mamm’s fingers. Is Rachel at the haus now? I could go introduce—”

“Neh!” It was going to be challenging enough to work with Rachel every day; Arden didn’t want her flaunting her smarts in his home, too. Nor did he want his mother trying to pair them up; she’d been nagging him for nearly two years to go to a matchmaker in a neighboring district in Unity. She claimed she couldn’t go home to heaven in good conscience until both of her children found spouses. Arden invariably replied if that was the case, he had a responsibility to remain single indefinitely. It had become a running joke between them, but Arden sensed his mother was more serious than she let on. Knowing her, it wouldn’t matter that Rachel was no longer Amish—she’d insist Rachel could be wooed back into the fold. Arden, however, was not in a wooing state of mind.

“Rachel’s not home. If Mamm needs medical care, we’ll take her to the dokder. I don’t want you to ask Rachel for help. For all intents and purposes, she’s an Englischer. We can work with her, and of course we’ll be kind to her, but that doesn’t mean she’s invited to our haus to socialize. Besides, she probably prefers her privacy. In any case, Ivan asked me to keep the news of her arrival to myself, so I trust you’ll do the same.”

His sister narrowed her eyes, but she didn’t argue. “Okay, but I’m going to go put the supp in Ivan’s fridge so Rachel can enjoy something gut to eat when she comes home, just like you do every evening, Arden. Except she’ll have to eat hers alone.”

Her point made, Grace tugged the door shut behind her. The force caused the mail to slide from Ivan’s desk for the umpteenth time, as if to emphasize just how much Arden needed Rachel’s help.

Rachel spoke with a nurse before entering Ivan’s room, confirming what she already imagined; for a few days, Ivan’s health had been hanging in the balance. He’d had a severe case of bacterial pneumonia and then suffered a reaction to the antibiotics, rendering it difficult for the doctors to determine the most effective course of treatment. He was still on oxygen and needed to remain in the hospital for several more days, but yesterday there had been indications his condition was finally improving.

After not seeing him for ten years, the sight of her brother would have moved Rachel deeply even if he hadn’t been lying in a hospital bed, but his pale, manly face and thin, limp body overwhelmed her, despite her professional training. She spent the better part of the afternoon sitting beside him, stroking his dark wispy hair or resting her hand on his arm, praying. Whenever a nurse entered, she’d inquire about Ivan’s medication and symptoms. Although plenty of patients in various stages of pneumonia visited the clinic, she’d never actively cared for them in an ongoing capacity, and she wanted to know what to watch for once Ivan returned home.

Some time around five o’clock, she must have dozed off, because she was awoken by a slight fluttering beneath her hand. Ivan was reaching to remove his oxygen mask.

“Neh,” she said, slipping into Deitsch. “Don’t try to talk, Ivan. Just let me look at you.”

Now that he’d opened his big brown eyes, Rachel spotted a trace of the fourteen-year-old boy—her little brother—he’d been the last time she saw him, and she smiled as she bent forward to give him a hug. “I’m sorry you’ve been so sick. I came as soon as I heard.”

She felt him nodding against her cheek, and she held him a moment longer before letting go. She pulled her chair closer and peered into his eyes. “I don’t want you to worry about anything at the shop. I’ll stay as long as you need. You just focus on resting and getting better.”

He nodded and reached for the mask once more. Pulling it up, he asked in a whisper, “Have you seen…” That was all he could manage, so she had to guess what he meant.

“The workshop? It looks great. So large and professional. You’ve clearly done well.”

But he shook his head so she guessed again.

“I’ve met Arden, jah.” But Ivan closed his eyes to indicate that wasn’t his question, either. “Have I seen Colin and his family?”

Ivan nodded, wincing. It occurred to Rachel he was worried. But was he worried for her or for Colin and his family? Probably both. Ivan had been put in a difficult position when she left Serenity Ridge; he was so fond of Rachel and yet he was still under Colin and Hadassah’s thumbs. By the time he was an adult and Colin and Hadassah had moved into their own house, Ivan had probably had enough of a challenge convincing his brothers he could start a business without creating more trouble by inviting Rachel home or traveling to visit her.

“I haven’t seen them yet, neh. But don’t worry, I’ll do my best not to say anything to upset them. I won’t let anything they say upset me, either.” It’s not as if they can upset me more than they have by refusing to have any contact with me for the past ten years. “We all just want you to get better.”

Ivan nodded, his eyelids drooping. Now that she’d seen him, Rachel was reluctant to let her brother out of her sight again, but he’d rest more soundly without her there. She gave him another hug. “I’m going to go, but I’ll visit again tomorrow afternoon. I’ll call the nursing station and check in on you in the morning, and they can call me any time you want them to, as well.”

She thought he’d already fallen asleep, but as Rachel turned to leave, Ivan’s fingertips brushed her sleeve. She paused as he lifted his mask a third time. “Denki, Ray-Ray,” he said. It was what he’d called her when he was learning to talk, and the nickname made Rachel smile and tear up at the same time.

I haven’t cried so much in one day since…since the day I left Serenity Ridge, she thought.

On the way home, she stopped at a superstore to purchase a cell phone charger and some groceries. She was so weary she grabbed a couple of microwave entrees and didn’t realize her mistake until she was driving out of the parking lot, but she was too tired to turn around. Maybe she could pry the frozen food out of its plastic containers and heat it in the gas oven.

Arden’s been caring for the animals. I wonder what he’s done with the eggs he’s collected… Rachel didn’t realize how fortunate she’d been to grow up with an endless supply of fresh eggs until she moved to Boston. On Saturdays she’d drive fifteen miles to the farmer’s market to buy them, although they were outrageously expensive. As far as she was concerned, she’d be happy to eat fresh eggs morning, noon and night for the duration of her stay in Serenity Ridge.

Then she wondered if Arden would still be working. No, it was close to seven o’clock, and he would have gone home for supper by now. Ivan never wrote about Arden’s family, but since Arden didn’t have a beard, Rachel deduced he wasn’t married, which didn’t exactly surprise her. While Arden was undeniably handsome, the Amish valued good character over good looks, and Rachel didn’t know quite what to make of his personality. Not only was he uncommunicative, but he seemed humorless, too. Still, he’d appeared sincerely apologetic about having given her such a scare, and Ivan thought highly of him, so he had to have redeeming qualities, even if Rachel didn’t know what they were yet.

There was no buggy or horse in the yard when she arrived home, although she hadn’t remembered seeing one the first time she’d arrived, either. Maybe Arden lived close enough to walk? Suddenly Rachel felt uneasy staying alone in the big house, without any neighbors within shouting distance. She had to remind herself she wasn’t in the city anymore. She was safer here, but she intended to lock the door anyway.

When she set down the groceries, she discovered a note on the kitchen table.

Welcome, Rachel—

I thought you’d enjoy soup—it’s in the fridge, and I’ve filled the cookie jar with snickerdoodles.

I hope to meet you soon.

Grace Esh (Arden’s sister)

Why such a sweet note and an even sweeter act of kindness should reduce Rachel to tears—again—she didn’t know, but they did. And few things made Rachel as ravenous as crying, so after a day of bawling her eyes out, she tossed the frozen dinners into the freezer of the gas-powered refrigerator and heated the soup instead. When she finished eating a large bowl of it, she still felt hungry, so she had a second bowl, followed by two cookies.

Finally, too full and exhausted to think another thought, Rachel collapsed into bed.

On Saturday morning, Arden was relieved to find the cow had been milked and the eggs collected at Ivan’s place. He’d been caring for the animals and bringing the surplus dairy products home so the deacon’s wife could share them with those in need. Ivan was glad to relinquish the responsibility, but it surprised him a city girl had gotten up so early on a Saturday.

When he came out of the barn, he was further surprised to see Rachel crossing the lawn carrying two cups of coffee. Tinted red by the morning sun, her hair was an eye-catching contrast with her creamy complexion. For an Englischer, she didn’t seem to wear much makeup. Not that she needs any, but I wonder if she’s going without it so she’ll fit in with the Amish women in Serenity Ridge? Arden quickly dismissed the curious thought. “Guder mariye.”

“Guder mariye.”

It wasn’t until Rachel replied in kind that Arden realized he’d greeted her in Deitsch. She didn’t seem to bat an eye, but he wondered if he ought to address her solely in Englisch instead. She extended a mug to him. He’d already had coffee before leaving his house, but he never refused another cup. He accepted it and held the workshop door open for her.

“Ivan must have told you we usually work from seven or eight o’clock until noon on Saturday. But I didn’t think you’d be up and at ’em at this hour.”

Rachel’s response was peppered with even more Deitsch words. “I get up earlier than this to commute to work. Besides, I couldn’t wait to have fresh oier for breakfast. They were appenditlich. So were the kuche and supp your schweschder made.”

“My schweschder?” Ivan wondered how Rachel knew it was his sister who’d left the goodies in her kitchen.

“Jah. That’s how she identified herself in her note. Grace Esh. She is your schweschder, isn’t she?” Rachel tittered, and Arden gritted his teeth. By saying such stupid things in front of her, he kept opening himself up to her teasing. Or was it mockery?

He motioned toward the desk, ignoring her question. “You might want to get started on the paperwork by going through that stack of mail. Our calendar is somewhere beneath all those papers, and it’ll show you what we’ve got scheduled when. The checkbook’s in the bottom drawer. We had a delivery from Knight’s yesterday and got a 10 percent discount. I wrote out a check, but I didn’t record the amount in the ledger yet. Also, Mrs. McGregor wants the playhouse completed a week early, so please call our delivery guy and arrange for that.”

“Whoa! Wait a second,” Rachel protested, setting her mug on a large manila envelope. “How do you expect me to remember all of that? Let me grab a pen… Where is a pen?”

Before Arden could answer, the door swung open, and Colin Blank walked in. Rachel was crouched behind the desk, searching the drawer for a writing utensil, and she didn’t immediately see him, so Arden announced loudly, “Guder mariye, Colin,” which caused Rachel to jump up.

“Guder mariye, Arden.” Then, catching sight of his sister, he said stiffly in Englisch, “Hello, Rachel.”

“Guder mariye, Colin. It’s—it’s gut to see you,” Rachel replied. Arden noticed her hands were trembling as she lifted her arms, presumably to embrace her brother, who remained motionless. Rachel quickly dropped her arms, knocking her hand against the desk and jostling her cup, which sloshed coffee onto the mail.

As Rachel used a blank sheet of paper to blot the spill, Arden took advantage of the pause to edge away, saying, “I’ll, uh, let the two of you talk in private.”

“Neh, don’t leave. What I’ve kumme to say concerns you both.” Colin announced, “Last evening Hadassah and I visited Ivan in the hospital. Imagine our surprise when the nurse told us Rachel had been there to see him, too. And that she’ll be helping care for him after he’s discharged.”

Uh-oh. Arden had known this moment of familial reckoning would come, but he hadn’t expected to be in the middle of it. Neither he nor Rachel spoke—Colin had a commanding presence.

“Even more perplexing was that Ivan indicated Rachel will be helping with the paperwork here,” Colin said. Arden noticed he avoided addressing his sister directly; instead, he referred to her in the third person, as if she weren’t standing a few feet away. “Since he couldn’t elaborate, we figured we must have misunderstood him. Would you care to explain?”

Arden swallowed, unsure if Colin was speaking to him or to Rachel. “I-I-I’ll be too b-busy constructing the sheds to take care of our orders and accounting.”

“I understand what it’s like to be short-staffed,” Colin said. “What I’m confused about is why you didn’t ask me or Hadassah or someone from our district for assistance.”

Arden tried to think of a diplomatic yet truthful explanation. He couldn’t well say, You’re so reproachful Ivan was worried you’d find fault with our business and try to convince us to close shop. Nor could Arden admit he didn’t want others in their district to discover the extent of his reading and writing difficulty. Fortunately, Rachel piped up.

“From what I understand, many in the community are preparing for planting season, and spring is an extremely busy time for you at work, too, especially with Albert being in Canada. And Hadassah’s pregnancy is wearing her out, so Ivan didn’t want to burden the two of you.”

Colin’s face visibly reddened, and Arden didn’t know if it was because the Amish in their district avoided using the word pregnancy, especially in mixed company, or if he was angry because Rachel had answered instead of Arden, but there was no mistaking his insinuation when he said, “Ivan, Hadassah and I are familye, and familye help carry each other’s burdens.”

Rachel lifted her chin, clearly unfazed. “Jah, which is exactly why I’m here—to help my bruder Ivan, as well as my bruder in Christ, Arden.”

Upon being reminded of their shared Christian faith, Colin appeared to momentarily back down. His posture softened. “It was kind of you to kumme, Rachel, but I’ll help Arden with the accounting and orders, and Hadassah and the other women in our district will care for Ivan when he comes home from the hospital. I’m sorry for the inconvenience of traveling all this way, but there’s no need for you to stay any longer.”

“Denki for your concern about me, Colin.” Rachel’s response was equally tempered. “But it’s a privilege, not an inconvenience, for me to be here. I gave Ivan my word I’d stay and help, and I intend to honor my promise.”

Colin acted as if she hadn’t spoken. Directing his gaze toward Arden, he said, “Ivan is ill, so I understand his lapse in judgment, but I would have thought you’d know better. You should have asked me for help.”

Arden resented Colin scolding him as if he were a child, but not as much as he resented it when Rachel called attention to Colin scolding him as if he were a child. “Arden’s not a bu and you’re not his daed. You wouldn’t appreciate it if someone came into your shop and took over your business,” she pointed out.

Now the brother and sister were speaking as if Arden weren’t there, and it riled him to no end, but even if he had known what to say, they didn’t give him an opportunity to say it.

“Your opinion is not wilkom, so I’d thank you not to interfere,” Colin authoritatively declared. “This matter is between Arden and me.”

“Neh, this matter is between Ivan and Arden. You’re the one who’s interfering.”

Colin must have been surprised by the fire in Rachel’s voice, or else he recognized he was overstepping, because he faltered. “All—all right, then. Arden, do you want Rachel or me to help you with the administration of the shop?”

Some decisions were easier than others. “Rachel,” Arden stated definitely.

Both Rachel’s and Colin’s mouths dropped open. Colin recovered first, saying, “If that is your decision, I’ll respect it.” He clapped Arden on the back. “But if you change your mind or if there’s anything else I can do to support you, let me know.”

Once the door closed behind Colin, Rachel clasped her hands beneath her chin and gushed, “Denki for standing up for me like that. It means a lot to me.”

Considering how poorly Colin had treated Rachel, Arden could understand why she’d feel like Arden had stood up for her, but he didn’t want her getting the wrong idea. “I wasn’t standing up for you. I was abiding by an agreement I made with my business partner,” he told her. “If Ivan had suggested we ask Colin for help, I would have agreed to honor that request, too.”

“Jah, I know. I just meant…never mind.” Pressing her lips together, Rachel turned her back toward him and began tearing open an envelope.

If her presence is going to cause me this much stress every day, I might need to convince Ivan to take Colin up on his offer to help, Arden thought to himself as he strode to the opposite end of the workshop, where he could labor in peace.

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