Patricia Davids - An Amish Harvest

“Can’t you close the store for a time? I’m sure your customers will understand. Or hire someone to work in it for your wife.”

“I could, but I’d rather not. You will think I’m cruel, but my wife needs to get away from Samuel. Away from thinking she must do everything for him. I know you took care of Emil Troyer before he passed away. The old man was blind, so you have had some experience with a sightless person. Please say you will help us, at least through the corn harvest. Anna won’t listen to me, but she knows you have experience with sick folks. She might listen to you. If you can’t help, maybe you could suggest someone else.”

Rebecca glanced over her shoulder. Her mother was scowling and shaking her head. If only her mother hadn’t latched on to the idea of pushing John and her together. Rebecca didn’t want to spend the next days and weeks thinking of excuses to avoid him. A new job was exactly what she needed. She graced Isaac with a heartfelt smile. “I can start today if you don’t mind waiting while I gather a few things.”

His expression flashed from shocked to pleased. “I don’t mind at all. Danki , Rebecca. You are an answer to my prayers.”

* * *

Samuel waited impatiently for his brother to adjust the pillows behind him. As usual, Luke was moving with the speed of cold molasses. With his eyes covered by thick dressings, Samuel had to depend on his hearing to tell him what was going on around him. Maybe forever.

If he didn’t regain his sight, his days as a master carver were over. He wouldn’t be of any use in the fields. He wouldn’t be much use to anyone.

He refused to let his thoughts go down that road. He prayed for healing, but it was hard to seek favor from God when he had no idea why God had visited this burden on him. He heard Luke shaking the pillows and then finally felt him slide them into place.

“There. How’s that?”

Samuel leaned back. It wasn’t any better, but he didn’t say that. It wasn’t Luke’s fault that he was still in pain and that his eyes felt as if they were filled with dry sand. After six days, Samuel was sick and tired of being in bed and no amount of pillow fluffing would change that, but he didn’t feel like stumbling around in front of people looking hideous, either. Only his mouth had been left free of bandages. He chose to stay in bed to avoid having others see him like this, but he didn’t have to like it.

He licked his swollen and cracked lips, thankful that he could speak. The doctor thought he must have thrown up his hands and that protected his lower face to a small degree. “It’s fine. Is there water handy?”

“Sure.”

Something poked his tender lip. He jerked away.

“Sorry,” Luke said. “Here is your water.”

Samuel opened his mouth and closed it around the drinking straw when he felt it on his tongue. He took a few long swallows and turned his head aside. He was helpless as a baby and growing weaker by the day. His legs and his back ached from being in bed, but he didn’t want to blunder around the room and risk hurting his hands in another fall. One was enough.

Luke put the glass on the bedside table. “Is there anything else I can do for you? Do you want me to fluff the pillows under your hands?”

Before Samuel could answer, Luke pulled the support from beneath his right arm. Intense pain shot from Samuel’s his fingertips to his elbow. He sucked in a harsh breath through clenched teeth.

“Sorry. I’m so sorry.” Luke gently placed Samuel’s bandaged hand back on the pillow. “Did that hurt?”

Samuel panted and willed the agony to subside. The pain was never gone, but it could die down to a manageable level if he was still. “I don’t need anything else.”

“Are you sure?” Luke asked.

“I’m sure,” Samuel snapped. He just wanted to be left alone. He wanted to see. He wanted to be whole. He wanted the pain to stop.

He caught the sound of hoofbeats outside his open bedroom window and the crunch of buggy tires on the gravel. His father must be home. A few minutes later, he heard the outside door open and his mother’s voice. She must have closed the store early.

“ Mamm is back.” The relief in Luke’s voice was almost comical except Samuel was far from laughing. He heard his brother’s footsteps retreat across the room. At least he was safe from Luke’s help for a little while. Their mother was a much better caretaker. She could be smothering at times, but her heart was in the right place. Like a child afraid of the dark, he found her voice soothing and her hands comforting.

An itch formed in the middle of Samuel’s back. With both hands swaddled in thick bandages, he couldn’t reach to scratch it. He tried rubbing against the pillow, but it didn’t help. “Luke, wait.”

His brother’s footsteps were already fading as he raced downstairs. Samuel tried to ignore the pricking sensation, but it only grew worse. “Luke! Mamm! Can someone come here?”

It seemed like an eternity, but he finally heard his mother’s voice from the foot of the stairs. “I’m here, Samuel, and I’ve brought someone to see you.”

He groaned as he heard the stairs creak. The last thing he wanted was company. “I’m not up to having visitors.”

“Then it’s a pity I’ve come all this way.” The woman’s voice was low, musical and faintly amused. He had no idea who she was.

Chapter Two

Samuel cringed. He hated people seeing him this way. Was this another gawker like the last girl who had come to help? All Gemma Yoder could do was sob at the sight of his bandages and burned peeling skin. She’d been worse than no help at all. Thankfully, his mother had quickly sent her packing.

“It’s Rebecca Miller,” his mother said. He could tell she wasn’t pleased.

He heard them move closer. He knew the name even if he didn’t know the woman well. “Walter Miller’s widow?”

“ Ja. Walter was my husband.” The tone of her voice changed slightly. Samuel sensed the loss beneath her words. Why would she visit him? They barely knew each other. She wasn’t one of his mother’s friends. It was common for Amish neighbors to help each other, but she didn’t live close by.

“Thank you for coming, but as I said, I’m not up to company.”

“I can see that. Why are you still in bed?”

“He’s in bed because he was badly burned. I’m sure my husband told you that,” his mother chided. “Samuel, your father has hired Rebecca to help us for the next few weeks.”

No wonder she was upset. He had overheard her telling his father that she didn’t need or want someone to help with his care after the last woman left. His father rarely went against his wife’s wishes. Why this time? Samuel rubbed his back against the pillow still trying to ease that itch. “I’m glad you will have help in the store.”

He caught a whiff of a fresh scent that reminded him of spring flowers. Amish women didn’t wear perfume, so perhaps it was the shampoo she used. His sense of smell had become more acute since the accident. Whatever it was, he liked the delicate fragrance, but he didn’t like visitors.

“Lean forward.” When she spoke, she was close beside him.

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

That was bossy. He did as she said and was immediately rewarded by her fingers scratching the exact spot that had been driving him crazy. How did she know?

“I’m not familiar with what it takes to run a store, but I do know how to care for sick people. You should be up and out of bed unless you want to end up with pneumonia on top of everything else. Anna, you know this. Why are you letting him be so lazy?”

Her mild scolding annoyed him. “I’m not steady on my feet. Mother knows that.”