Rachel's Secret Read online

  As a physician, David Sebastian held to an unwritten policy of never forming a negative opinion about a patient. Dislike or distrust, at any level, could affect one’s judgment and even the course of treatment, not to mention the fact that it was a distinctly unchristian sort of behavior.

  At the moment, however, his emotions seemed intent on waging a battle between the rules he had set for himself and the intrusion of this suspicious stranger into the home of Rachel Brenneman and the life of these good people—people he counted not only as patients but also as dear friends.

  One of whom was especially dear… too dear.

  Before his thoughts could wander any farther in that direction, he forced his professionalism to override his feelings. He even managed to be gentle as he examined the patient’s wound, though he suspected that in his present condition, the man would be unaware of any sort of touch, gentle or otherwise.

  “You did an excellent job of cleaning the wound, Rachel,” he said.

  “Ach, I did hardly anything. Mamma did most all the work.”

  David wasn’t surprised. Susan Kanagy’s cool head and calm hands had prevailed in more than one emergency before he reached the scene.

  He glanced up at Susan. “You did well.”

  She waved off his compliment. “We’re just ever so thankful you came as quickly as you did, and on such a bad-weather night as this.”

  “I’d like to know what he’s up to,” Gideon said, gesturing toward the injured stranger and then directing a pointed look at the black man. “It’s not a night to go tramping around the countryside. Especially with a bullet hole in you.”

  “Gideon,” Susan said, a warning note in her voice.

  “I think it might be best for everyone to wait in the other room for now,” David said, not looking directly at any one of them. “This man is in very serious condition, and I’m going to do some things you don’t need to see.”

  “You’ll need help,” said Susan.

  David glanced at the black man standing directly across the bed. “You’re with him?”

  The other nodded.

  “Then you can help me if I need an extra pair of hands. Gideon, take your mother and sister to the kitchen now. And Rachel? I’ll need starch for the bandages, if you’d be good enough to make some up.”

  Gideon uncoiled himself from the door frame and put one hand on Rachel’s shoulder, the other on his mother’s arm. “You heard Doc. Got anything to eat, Rachel?”

  After they left the room, David turned back to the black man. “Now, then, while I work why don’t you tell me how this happened? And while you’re at it, you might explain what you’re doing here.” He paused and then added, “You should understand that these people live quiet lives. Peaceful lives. They don’t need trouble. They’ve had more than their share of that already.”

  “Will the captain live?” was all the man said in reply.

  “I’ll do my part,” David said shortly. “The rest is up to God.”

  “I think perhaps God sent you.”

  David adjusted his glasses and looked at him more closely. “Well,” he said. “We’ll see about that, won’t we?”

  He did the best he could under the circumstances. With the black man—whose name he learned was Asa—looking on, David worked by the light of a flickering oil lamp on the bedside table and a lantern hanging from a hook on the ceiling.

  He cleaned the wound again, this time with alcohol, and then probed for the bullet and removed it. The tibia was shattered, but he managed to fit most of the pieces of bone back together before suturing the wound closed. He left a small section open to drain. Most likely he’d need to insert a drainage tube later.

  The stranger groaned and muttered as David worked. Occasionally he jerked or flailed his arms, and once he leveled an elbow in David’s direction, as if he meant to shove him aside. He was a big fellow, but he was also weak, and the man Asa was able to hold him steady so that his movements didn’t thwart David’s efforts.

  Rachel had the starch ready by the time he needed it, and she soaked the bandages for him while he fashioned a splint. Gideon had eased quietly back into the room and stood watching as David bandaged the wound and applied the wooden splint. He made no attempt to dismiss him again, for the boy had peppered him with enough questions in the past to make David aware of a certain fascination with doctoring.

  Of course, with the Amish disinclination toward higher learning, it wasn’t likely young Gideon would ever be more than an interested observer. Still, David liked the Kanagy lad and actually enjoyed his company. Susan’s son had a keen intelligence, a lively curiosity, and a somewhat wry sense of humor that never failed to amuse David.

  He’d heard rumors that the boy was wild and ran around with some other high-spirited youths from a neighboring non-Amish farm community. But it seemed that the Amish tolerated a fair amount of this sort of behavior in their young people, the rationale being that after they’d sewn their wild oats, they would come back and settle down within their own community. Meanwhile, they would be able to make their decision with realistic knowledge of what the outside world was like.

  From what David knew, most often the Amish youth chose to remain with their own people. David hoped that would be the case with Gideon, for he could only imagine the pain it would bring his mother if he should wander too far afield from the Amish life. Susan was thoroughly and devoutly Plain.

  So much so that David had long ago given up any illusions he once might have held that they could ever be more than friends. But they were good friends, and he did his best to content himself with that much.

  He gave himself another mental shake and checked the tightness of the bandage, reminding himself that the man under his hands was at the mercy of whatever knowledge and skill he possessed. No matter who he was or what he’d done, he deserved better than a doctor who couldn’t keep his mind on his work.

  After Dr. Sebastian left, the man Asa came into the kitchen and stood waiting until Rachel looked up from the table, where she sat mending an apron.

  “Pardon me, missus. I don’t like to bother you, but might I ask if you’d mind my staying in the barn—or if you have a shed. I’d like to stay as close to the captain as possible tonight.”

  Rachel studied him, at first not comprehending what he was getting at. When it dawned on her that he didn’t want to presume that he might sleep inside the house, she put her mending down. Truth be, Mamma had raised that very issue before leaving. “He is a man of color, Rachel. And a slave. You don’t mean to let him stay in the house overnight, do you?”

  “A freed slave, Mamma. A free man of color. I don’t have a problem with him being in the house. Besides, I think Gideon plans to stay the night. I’ll be quite safe.”

  Now she studied the man for a moment more. “If you would feel better staying at the captain’s side tonight, you may. So long as you can sleep in a chair.”

  His expression brightened—with surprise, Rachel thought.

  “I would be grateful, missus. And a chair would be all I need. But— you are sure you don’t mind?”

  Rachel turned back to her sewing. “No, I don’t mind. It would be helpful to me if you’d keep watch over him. I’ll get you a blanket as soon as I’m finished here.”

  “Thank you, missus. Thank you very much.”

  Long before dawn, Rachel awakened with a start. Although lamplight from the stairway shed a soft glow into her bedroom, it took a moment for her eyes to focus.

  The night came rushing in on her. The intrusion of the wounded riverboat captain and his companion. Dr. Sebastian’s dire warning that the wounded Gant might not survive. The fear and disorientation that had shattered her hard-won peace.

  Peace? Could she really call the cloud in which she moved and worked and lived any kind of peace?

  She glanced over to see that Fannie still slept soundly beside her. Although her mother had left not long after Dr. Sebastian, nothing would appease Gideon but staying the night. Rach
el was secretly relieved that he’d insisted, though she made every effort to keep him from sensing her uneasiness.

  She got up, quietly dressed, and tiptoed downstairs to the other bedroom. Gideon and the man Asa were asleep in chairs on either side of the bed. The wounded Englischer— Gant—appeared to be still unconscious.

  She had told Gideon to take the small third bedroom, but she wasn’t surprised to find him where he was. No doubt he’d been uncomfortable with the idea of leaving the two strangers alone.

  A movement from the foot of the bed startled her, and she jumped back, nearly colliding with the door frame. The big black dog raised its head and gave a low growl but quickly settled at the sight of Rachel. Its eyes caught the glow of the lamplight from the kitchen as it continued to watch Rachel with a steady, but not unfriendly gaze. Its tail thumped against the floor once or twice but not hard enough to cause Gideon or Asa to stir.

  Gideon must have taken pity on the animal. He was soft when it came to dogs. Mamma would never have one in the house, so as a boy he’d contented himself with caring for the occasional stray in the barn or the shed. Even now, at nineteen years, he would get a good scolding from their mother if she knew he’d let this big wet creature inside.

  For her part Rachel didn’t mind. She liked dogs too. Eli had brought his old red hound with him when they married, but the dog had disappeared into the woods one night and never came back. Eli found him two days later, the victim of a hunter’s gun—whether an accidental shooting or deliberate, they never knew.

  Perhaps more for her sake, Eli had declared it an accident. But Rachel knew it wouldn’t have been the first time someone had done a mean, spiteful thing to one of the People. There were those who didn’t want the Amish anywhere in the area and weren’t past working meanness against them in an effort to drive them away.

  In the faint light that filtered through the doorway, she could just make out the outline of the stranger in the bed. Her gaze ran the length of him, and where before she’d had only the sense of a large man, she saw now that although he was tall, his form beneath the bed clothes was anything but stout. His features, too, were lean. Even in his unconscious state, his face wasn’t slack but strongly sculpted. He had raven-black hair, and now that it was dry, she could see glints of silver randomly threaded among the thick waves. His mouth was wide and topped with a full, dark mustache.

  Rachel wasn’t used to seeing men with mustaches. Amish men— married ones, that is—wore full beards but no mustaches. It somehow made him look…raffish. Even dangerous.

  Then she remembered the vivid blue eyes she’d caught a glimpse of earlier, when she and the man Asa had tugged him onto the bed, and she chided herself for such fanciful thoughts. Those eyes had held nothing of danger, but only raw pain.

  She noted that his breathing was labored, and he was drenched in perspiration. She needed to tend to him, try to cool the fever.

  She looked at Gideon and then went to him and put a hand on his shoulder. He jerked and, as he had when he was a child, came instantly awake. “What?”

  Rachel put a finger to her lips. “Go lie down in the other bedroom, brother. I’ll look in on him.”

  “I can stay—”

  “I’m not sleeping anyway,” Rachel insisted. “Go on now. You need better rest than you’ll get in that chair, so you can work tomorrow.”

  Assured that he was awake, she went to the kitchen. The fire had died down, and the house was cold again. She added wood to the stove before drawing some cool water for the pitcher.

  It occurred to her that for the first time in two days, she didn’t hear the rain on the roof or the wind howling around the windows. A welcome relief, that.

  The sight of the pies she’d baked the day before reminded her of Maryann’s wedding. What would she do about that now? Of course she should go. Maryann was a neighbor and her family members were friends of the Brennemans and the Kanagys. She wouldn’t understand if Rachel were to miss her wedding.

  But how could she leave the unconscious Englischer for most of the day? What if he died in her bed while she was gone?

  Well, he wouldn’t be alone. The man Asa would be with him. And Dr. Sebastian said he would stop by. Was there really any need for her to stay away from the wedding?

  Guilt stabbed at her. Truth was, she wanted to stay away.

  What did it say about her that she would choose to stay home to look after a total stranger rather than attend the wedding of a long-time friend?

  It says you’re a coward, Rachel Brenneman. You’re a weak woman who finds the happiness of others too painful to bear because your own joy was so quickly spent…a woman who dreads a future of untold years, living alone in a community that values the love and bond of family above all else.

  With her mind fogged by this confrontation with her own weakness, Rachel carried the pitcher of water and some more clean cloths back into the bedroom. Later she would decide what to do about Maryann’s wedding.

  In the meantime she would pray that God would help her to make the right decision, not necessarily the easiest one.

  4

  RESTLESS THOUGHTS

  Teach me to feel that Thou art always nigh;

  Teach me the struggles of the soul to bear…

  GEORGE CROLY

  Rachel went through the routine of dressing methodically and quickly, her mind darting back and forth with one question after another. She donned her dark brown clothing and black apron, fastened them with pins, and then brushed her hair, securing it under her kapp.

  She glanced at Fannie, still sleeping. She would have to send her sister home at first light. Her good clothes for the wedding were there, and Mamma would want to supervise her dressing.

  She had a headache before she even started breakfast. Her hands were shaking as she sliced off the bacon and put it in the pan to fry. Before she ever cut out the first biscuit, she spilled flour on the floor and knocked over a cup of milk.

  It was still dark when Gideon came ambling into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes and finger-combing his hair. By then Rachel was almost lightheaded with tension and nerves. She never functioned well when her routine was disturbed. She was an orderly person by nature, and when order faltered, so did she.

  This need for routine had only grown stronger after Eli’s death. Now that he was no longer with her to take her by the shoulders, smile into her eyes, and reassure her that “everything is good now, ja,” she often seemed at a loss to maintain her sense of balance.

  Now with a stranger in her house who might be dying at any minute, both he and his companion blown in during a two-day rainstorm that had battered her nerves as much as it had the roof of the house, she sensed that her resolve to remain calm and composed was about to crumble.

  “Well, you sure made a mess.”

  Gideon’s smirk brought her up short, but for some reason his amusement acted to steady her. Perhaps because her irritation with his teasing took the place of her nervousness.

  To her brother’s credit, though, even while he seemed intent on aggravating her, he was down on his knees cleaning up the spilled milk and flour.

  “Mmm. Soggy biscuits. I can’t wait.”

  Rachel ignored his sarcasm. “Is the black man awake?”

  “His name is ‘Asa,’ Rachel,” her brother said, standing.

  “I know his name,” she bit back. “Is he awake? I’ll have breakfast ready in a few minutes. Go call Fannie, why don’t you?”

  “What’s got you so rattled?”

  “I’m not rattled. Call Fannie, and if the…if Asa isn’t awake, you’d best wake him. I don’t have time to fix two breakfasts, what with the wedding and all.”

  “Oh, that’s right. I forgot about Maryann’s wedding.”

  Rachel turned from the stove to look at him. “It could have been your wedding, if you hadn’t been more interested in running around with that Englisch girl instead of settling down with Maryann.”

  He grinned. “Which Englisch girl would
that be?”

  “One of many, no doubt. But I was thinking of that Elizabeth.”

  “Don’t start,” he said, his off hand tone belying the warning in his eyes.

  “Gideon—”

  “I’ll go call Fannie.”

  “Wait.”

  He turned, his expression guarded as if he expected a lecture.

  “Are you going to the wedding?” Rachel asked.

  He looked surprised but didn’t hesitate. “No.”

  “Don’t you think you should?”

  “No,” he said again. “We both know Maryann wouldn’t want me there.”

  He was probably right. Rachel loved her brother, but there was no denying that he had hurt Maryann Plank when he broke off their courtship last year to see another girl. An Englisch girl. There had been awkward feelings between them ever since. Rachel hadn’t missed the way that, even now—though Maryann would marry John Bender today—she avoided making eye contact with Gideon whenever they chanced to meet.

  “Besides,” he went on, “I have to work today.”

  Rachel gave a distracted nod while she slid the tray of biscuits into the oven.

  “Are you still planning to go? What about him?” He gestured toward the bedroom.

  “I don’t suppose it would be right to leave, what with the condition he’s in.”

  “You don’t really want to go anyway, do you?”

  His searching expression made Rachel uncomfortable. Was her younger bruder really so sensitive that he would notice she found weddings difficult? Perhaps she sometimes underestimated Gideon because of his bent toward glib humor and the casual exterior he often wore.

  She turned away. “It’s not important what I want. This is Maryann’s special day, and I should be there.”

  Again Gideon surprised her. “I’m sure she’ll understand,” he said quietly, touching her hand, “once word gets out as to what’s happened here. And we both know word will get out. Everyone will know even before the wedding.”