Gabriel's Bride (10 page)

Perhaps she felt a little bit of pride, but she would add that to her prayer list for this evening, too. At the rate she was going, she would have to start keeping a list on paper. It was no matter. She had a good feeling about this. A better feeling than she’d had in a long time about anything.

And that was a
gut
thing indeed.

6

H
e really wasn’t sure how long he could go on like this. In the three days that Rachel had been at his house, she’d almost set the kitchen on fire twice, she had somehow managed to tear the inseam out of two pairs of his best-fitting pants, and that was besides the fiasco he’d had to endure on her very first day. He just hoped she was handier with a needle and a thread than she was with cookin’.

He’d been surprised to discover that her meals were mostly edible. Sometimes it seemed she forgot about the potatoes she’d started to boil or the chicken she’d put on to fry. Those instances, she’d wander out to check on her precious goats or her cheese that was fermenting on the porch and whatever she had abandoned would be ruined. It was those times that Gabriel wondered if he might not do better with one of those cans of store-bought soup, but he was paying her for a job—to cook and clean for his family. Maybe she just needed time to settle in.

He was making excuses for her, but Samuel had taken such a liking to Rachel that Gabriel felt somewhat obligated to his youngest to keep her around. Though loving and a blessing, Samuel didn’t cotton to just anybody—the members of his family, Gideon’s Annie, and now, Rachel Yoder.
Jah
, he owed it to his son to make this work. If that weren’t enough, he needed her. No one else had answered his ad. Truth be told, neither had she, but Gabriel was standing by the adage that the Good Lord had seen the need in their lives and filled it. This was just part of the process, a time for adjustment. That was all.

He’d built a special pen for her goats to keep them from the other livestock and he’d made sure that they had a trough for water and room to run and play as goats were prone to do. Now if he could just get used to her peculiar ways. Every night he asked the Lord to help him accept her and her strange habits. He guessed that wasn’t quite fair to call her strange and said a quick prayer on top of his prayer. She was just so different from the other women in his life—Gideon’s Annie aside. Annie Fisher was different for a good reason. She had been raised
Englisch
—wealthy
Englisch
—and had a good enough excuse for her differences. Rachel Yoder . . . well, she was a different matter altogether, though he’d overheard someone once say that she had been raised by the Beachy Amish in Florida. If that were the case, then perhaps he could better understand her ways.

Gabriel took off his hat, wiped his forehead on the sleeve of his shirt, and surveyed his handiwork. He had just finished moving all the hay around in the loft to make room for Rachel’s crazy organic stuff that she’d brought to feed her goats.
Jah
, there were adjustments to be made all around. But given some time he was sure they could get to an understanding. He replaced his hat and heard the rattle of a horse and buggy. Stepping out into the blinding spring sunshine, he blinked several times and shaded his eyes to identify his visitor.

“Whoa.” Rueben Beachy pulled his buggy to a stop, Daniel Glick at his side. The two men stepped down from the buggy and waited for Gabriel to make his way over to them.

“Bishop. Minister.” Gabriel shook hands with them both.

He had expected them to come earlier in the week. When they didn’t show on Monday he knew it was only a matter of time until they did come out to talk.

“Gabriel, we’ve come to talk to you about a matter most important.”

He nodded. His appointment as the deacon to the district. Of the four positions, it was the least complicated. It would be his job to make certain they had any items needed for the service, water for foot washings, and supplies for communion. When the bishop got wind that someone wasn’t living within the
Ordnung
, he would dispatch the deacon to talk to the offender first. Also, the deacon always conferred with the parents of the girl before weddings were announced. All-in-all not terribly difficult, but still time consuming and holy just the same.

“I was hoping that this burden might pass from me.”

The bishop looked taken aback at his statement, but quickly recovered. “As you know, Gabriel Fisher, the Lord has seen fit to put you in this position within our church.”

He nodded. “But I’m not married. I’m a widower, and Mary Elizabeth has left. How can I be a pillar in the district with so many . . . transgressions?”

The minister stared at his feet while the bishop cleared his throat. “That is not why we are here.”

Gabriel frowned. “Something else?”

“We should go inside and sit down,” the minister said.

“With Rachel Yoder,” the bishop added.

“Rachel?”

The bishop nodded. “This concerns her too.”

Gabriel nodded and led the way to the house.

“Rachel,” he called as he wiped his feet at the front. “The bishop and the minister are here.”

She came out of the kitchen, her prayer
kapp
a little lopsided on her head. A few strands of her pale brown hair had escaped their pins and her cheeks were flushed bright pink. What had she been doing?

She stopped short and ran her hands down the sides of her apron. “Bishop . . . minister.” She smoothed a hand over her hair, but the crazy curls popped back free of her efforts.

“Rachel.” The bishop nodded. “We are here to talk to you and Gabriel about a matter of great importance.”

She looked to Gabriel, those big brown eyes questioning.

He gave her a small shrug. The clenching in his gut was due to the serious tone the bishop had used and had nothing to do with the fact that every time he looked at Rachel something in him felt like it was missing.

He sent her a nod which she returned before gesturing toward the kitchen table. “Come. Sit down. I’ll make some coffee.”

They gathered around the table with Rachel casting glances in his direction every few seconds. Like him, she evidently could feel the tension in the air.

Once the coffee had brewed, she brought it to the table with a plate piled high with chocolate chip cookies. It was no coincidence that chocolate chip was Samuel’s favorite kind. Nor was it a surprise that they were slightly burnt around the edges. If he had to guess, she was flushed and disheveled because she had gone to check on goats while the cookies baked. Gabriel wondered how many batches she had burned before getting to the ones she served.

“There has been some talk,” the bishop said after everyone had a cup of coffee and a plate of cookies in front of them.

“Talk?” He’d told them he shouldn’t have been in the lot for deacon. “I’ll step down.” He nodded. It was better this way, but the words had barely left his mouth when the bishop shook his head.

“
Nay
. It’s not about your position within the church. It’s about your relationship with Rachel Yoder.”

Rachel gasped.

Gabriel’s mouth dropped open, but the bishop and the minister looked as serious as two men of God can look.

“I don’t understand. I hired Rachel to help me around the house.” As he said the words, the minister and the bishop shared a glance. A feeling of alarm slid down his spine. There wasn’t anything in the
Ordnung
against having someone help in your house. There would be a good many fine Amish who were in violation if that were the case. He should have nothing to worry about, but the dread didn’t subside.

The bishop cleared his throat. “We had heard something of the sort, but we came out to see if what we are hearing is true.”

Gabriel locked gazes with Rachel, then he turned back to the bishop. “And what is it that you’ve been hearing?”

The bishop adjusted his eyeglasses again and nodded toward the minister.

“That you and Rachel Yoder are living under the same roof,” Glick said.

“We are, I suppose.” He shrugged. “She needed a place to live, and I needed someone to help with the
kinder
.”

Rachel nodded.

The bishop cleared his throat. “There are those among us who believe that your arrangement is not . . . appropriate.”

Gabriel opened his mouth to respond, closed it, then opened it once more. “Because I’m the new deacon?”

“That’s a part of it,” the minister said.

“And the other part?” Rachel asked, her voice small and wounded. Gabriel didn’t think he’d ever heard her use that tone before, and it cut straight though his heart.

“That the two of you are not married.”

Rachel sucked in a sharp breath.

His gaze jerked up and snagged hers and suddenly he felt like everything was different. It wasn’t as if they were really doing anything wrong. There was a need and God filled it. That was all.

Gabriel pulled his gaze from his housekeeper and centered it on the minister. “I hardly think that is fair to Rachel for the gossips to be talking about us like that.”

“The gossip has been dealt with, but the source must also be addressed,” the bishop added.

Gabriel looked from one of them to the other, carefully avoiding Rachel’s chocolate-colored eyes. “There is nothing wrong happening here. Do we need to go in front of the church and testify to that?”

“As I see it, the best thing would be for the two of you to get married.”

“What?” Gabriel wasn’t sure whose response was louder, his or Rachel’s.

“I . . . I . . .” she stammered.

Gabriel couldn’t say his thoughts were any more coherent.

“Assuming that the two of you plan to continue to occupy one dwelling, the best future for all involved would be a marriage.”

Gabriel could only blink as he tried to get a handle on his swirling thoughts. He couldn’t get married again. He didn’t want to get married again. He’d had his chance at love, and it had been taken away. True love was rare and surely wouldn’t come around more than once in a lifetime.

Besides that, Rachel was young and easy to look at, even if she was a bit independent and scatterbrained. Surely some young Amish buck would find favor in her. Who was he to take that from her?

“Excuse me, if I may,” Rachel said, “but are you saying that we have to get married?”

The minister gave an uncomfortable nod. The irony wasn’t lost on Gabriel. His job as the deacon would be to talk to anyone in the congregation who had strayed from the ways. Yet here they sat talking with him. “Only if you plan to live here and remain Gabriel’s housekeeper.”

“But I sleep in a separate room. Upstairs and completely away from Gabriel’s.”

The minister had enough sense to blush at her candid statement. “It’s a matter of how the arrangement looks to the rest of the community.”

Gabriel nodded. He understood. He captured Rachel’s gaze with his own. “I’m sorry, Rachel. I never meant to put you in this type of situation when I suggested that you work for me.”

She gave a quick nod, and to his horror, her big eyes filled with tears. “But . . . but . . .” She heaved a shuddering sigh, and he could tell that she was struggling to keep her composure. Suddenly it broke. She pushed away from the table and fled out the back door.

Rachel ran across the yard, around the garden plot and didn’t stop until she reached the pen where her goats were kept. She thought she was so smart. She’d thought she had it all figured out. But as quick as that, it all slipped away.

She took a deep, shuddering breath trying to stem the flow of her tears, but to no avail. They just kept coming one after another, sliding down her cheeks as all the changes she faced piled upon her. Changes, always changes.

As if sensing her pain, Sadie, her favorite doe, approached, nudging her soft head through the fence and against Rachel’s leg.

She scratched the goat behind her ears, her tears still flowing. How was she going to leave them behind? Her cousin had made it perfectly clear that there was no room for them at his farm, though Rachel suspected he didn’t want her attention split between the family and her goats.