An Amish Harvest. Patricia Davids

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СКАЧАТЬ that praise from her? “Danki.”

      “Will you be all right here for a few minutes?”

      Her tone was definitely kinder. She had a pleasant voice when she wasn’t ordering him around or poking fun at him. “I’ll be fine. Close the window. I don’t like the draft.”

      She began humming as she closed the window. It was an old hymn, one he liked. He heard her pulling the sheets off the bed and bundling them together. She was still humming as she carried them out of the room. The sounds of her light footsteps on the stairs faded and he was alone.

      He shifted in the chair. He was comfortable enough. It was better than lying down. Not that he would admit as much to Rebecca Miller. He wiggled his toes and then lifted his legs, first one then the other. How had they become so weak so quickly? He kept working them until he heard her coming up the stairs.

      “I’m back.”

      “I can hear you.”

      “It won’t take me a minute to remake the bed if you’re tired.”

      “The mattress is wet. You can’t expect me to sleep in a soggy bed.”

      “I barely got the linens damp. The mattress is fine, but I’ll flip it over if it makes you feel better.”

      “There’s no need if it isn’t wet.”

      “Okay.” She continued humming. The flap of the sheets told him she was making his bed. He heard the slight sound of her hands smoothing the fabric into place. The flowery scent was stronger now.

      “What is that smell?”

      “Lavender. I sprinkle lavender water on the sheets before I iron them. It keeps them fresh-smelling a lot longer. Is it bothering you?”

      He took a deep breath. “Nee, it smells good.”

      “I grow lavender in my garden and I make it into soaps, oils and sachets. It’s a very beneficial plant and it has so many uses. It’s soothing on the sheets and the scent can help some people sleep better.”

      She stopped talking. He sensed that she was standing beside him. He tipped his head away from her. “Do you have a glass of water in your hand?”

      “Why? Are you thirsty?” She was trying to keep her voice even, but he heard the humor lurking underneath. She was laughing at him.

      “I was afraid you’d think I need a bath.”

      “You do.”

      He hadn’t had one since before the accident. Maybe it was past time. He’d have Timothy help him with that this evening. He was the only one of Samuel’s brothers with enough patience and the ability to work in silence. Samuel quickly changed the subject. “Do you sell your homemade soaps?”

      “Nee, I give them away to family and friends.”

      “You should consider selling some in our store. The Englisch love Amish-made stuff and they pay well for things like my mother’s jams and jellies.”

      “I’ll think about it. I could certainly use some extra income. Are you ready to get back in bed?”

      Was he? Not really. It wasn’t bad being up as long as he wasn’t alone. “I might sit here awhile longer.”

      * * *

      Rebecca allowed her smile of triumph to widen. She knew he would feel better once he was up. “All right. I’m going downstairs and start supper.”

      “You’re leaving?” The touch of panic in his voice surprised her.

      “I’m only going downstairs. I will hear you if you call. What would you like for supper?”

      “Some of Mamm’s chicken broth will be okay. I’m not fond of the beef broth.”

      Her mouth dropped open. “Is that all you’ve been eating? Broth?”

      He shifted uneasily in his chair. “My face hurts. I can’t use my hands. Mamm figured out that something I can sip through a straw works best.”

      “No wonder you’re so weak. I need to get some real food into you.”

      “I’m not going to have someone spoon-feed me. Especially you.”

      “That sounds like pride. Our faith teaches us to put aside all pride and be humble before God. Are you a prideful man, Samuel?”

      She waited, but he didn’t answer. “I didn’t hear what you said,” she prompted.

      “I’m not prideful,” he answered softly, but with an edge of irritation.

      “Of course not. I’m sorry I misunderstood. Please forgive me. If you’re okay in the chair, I’m going to get the wash started and then supper. Which one of your family members shall I ask to help you with your meal and your bath?”

      “Timothy. But I’m not coming downstairs to eat.”

      “That’s fine. Just call if you need me.”

      She crossed the room to the door, but didn’t leave. Instead, she waited and watched.

      He turned his head to the side as if listening for her. After a long minute, he muttered, “Fat chance I’ll ask her for help.”

      She smiled. He wasn’t sure she had gone. He was testing to see if she was still about. He kept his head cocked with one ear toward the door. She silently slipped out, taking care to avoid the squeaking stair treads she had noted on the way up.

      Rebecca was used to finding her way around strange kitchens. A quick check of the refrigerator and the pantry gave her the fixing for a hearty chicken and noodle casserole. That would be easy for Samuel to eat and filling for the rest of the family. After putting the chicken on to boil, she started the laundry in the propane-powered washer in the basement, swept the kitchen and washed the kitchen floor. While she worked, she kept an ear out for any sounds from Samuel’s room. She was prepared for his call, but not for the loud thud that shook the ceiling above her.

      She dashed up the stairs and found him sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed. There was blood on the bandage covering his left hand. She rushed to his side. “Samuel Bowman, what have you done to yourself?”

      * * *

      Samuel gritted his teeth against the unbearable pain in his hands. He couldn’t breathe let alone answer her.

      “Are you hurt anywhere else?” Her voice penetrated the fog in his brain.

      “Why? Isn’t this bad enough? Maybe I can break a leg. Would that make you happy?”

      “I’m sorry you’re hurting, but that’s not an excuse to be rude.”

      The pain receded, but his humiliation grew by leaps and bounds. This was exactly what he had been afraid would happen. Hitting the floor hurt every bit as much as he knew it would.

      This СКАЧАТЬ