A Little Bit of Charm (8 page)

“By herself?” Jake felt oddly protective of a stranger. “Why didn't you go with her?”

“Yes, by herself. We already rode around twice together. Now she needs to relax and practice without someone watching over her shoulder.” Jessie glanced up at him. “She'll have to do it alone soon enough.”

“How will she know what to say?”

“I gave her the notebook I made for Keeley as a training manual. It has everything in it you're supposed to say on a tour, including the history and background on Twelve Elms in case people ask questions.” Her lips pulled into a smile. “She's caught your eye as well as Virgil's.”

Jake checked the open doorway. “Few women under forty show up here, so why wouldn't she catch my attention?”

“Rachel is a dream come true for me, Jake. She knows a lot about horses and is willing to memorize everything in the manual. She should be ready to give the tour next Wednesday.” Jessie crossed and uncrossed her feet at the ankles, unable to sit still for
long. “And if she runs into trouble, one of my Sir Galahad brothers will ride to her rescue. Be sure to saddle up a
white
horse.”

Jake ignored the wisecrack. “What else do you know about her?”

“Let's see…her name is Rachel King. She lives on Route 738 with a cousin and her husband—”

“Rachel's husband or the cousin's?”

“The cousin's. They own an organic chicken farm.” Jessie propped her chin on her index finger. “She doesn't much like free-roaming chickens except for supper, so that's why she needs a job. Oh, and she's from Pennsylvania.” She jumped to her feet. “That's about all I know. I don't demand official résumés with references for part-time, temporary jobs.”

“I'll have to find out more details when I sweep her off her feet with my wit and charm,” he said with false bravado. He stood and pushed away from the stall wall, ducking his head.

Suddenly, Jessie's eyebrows arched as though remembering another detail. “Hold up there, big brother. Before you go all dewy eyed, I just thought of something that's a deal-breaker for both of you. You had better advertise for business from younger clientele if you want to expand your dating pool.”

The little hairs rose on the back of his neck. “What do you mean? I just want to get to know her. Don't let your imagination run away with you.” His tone betrayed his irritation.

“All right, don't get sore. Forget I said anything.” She headed toward the doorway.

But Jake followed at her heels. “Why do you have a bug up your nose about her? What's wrong? Doesn't she like the same music videos as you? You women can be so—”

Jessie pivoted and slapped both palms on his chest. “Stop. I really like Rachel. I think she and I could become friends if I wasn't leaving Charm this weekend.”

He stepped back. “Then what is it?”

Jessie rolled her eyes. “Rachel leaves here around four. Why don't you lurk along the path to the parking lot? Then you can
nonchalantly
run into her and introduce yourself. There's one little personality trait you need to see for yourself.” Turning on her heel, she sprinted away.

Jake slapped his hat against his pant leg. Women were so confoundedly cryptic. Despite the fact he had no hope of saying the right thing with Miss King, he sure planned to give it a try.

At four o'clock, Jake Brady, a relatively mature man for twenty-three years old, hid in their lilac bushes, waiting for his prey like a red-tailed hawk. He had showered, donned a fresh shirt and jeans, and shaved…again. He had even splashed on cologne Keeley had bought him for Christmas. But when he inhaled a whiff, he washed the stuff off.

Five minutes after the appointed hour, Rachel walked from the horse barns with her nose buried in the training manual. She'd slung her tote bag across her back and perched her sunglasses atop her head, nestled in the shiniest blond hair in Kentucky. She moved with a feminine, delicate stride, not shuffling her boots through the dust the way some girls did. Sunlight added a burnished glow to her peaches-and-cream complexion. Even from his vantage point, hidden behind thick waxy foliage, he recognized flawless skin.

He was about to step from his refuge and make his presence known when she abruptly diverged from the path into the ladies' room. His dad had built modern outdoor restrooms for their visitors several years ago before they began offering tours.

Jake used the time to his advantage. He sprinted down the walkway into the parking lot and turned around. He would plod along, pacing himself, and then run into her as she exited the facilities. A more perfect scheme had never been hatched.

Almost on cue, the lovely Rachel King walked outdoors and
slung her bag over her shoulder, the training manual nowhere in sight. Jake, with timing to match his perfect plan, halted a few feet in front of her. “You're…you're Amish,” he stammered.

Rachel pulled her sunglasses down to the bridge of her nose. “That I am,” she replied, stepping around him.

“Wait,” he demanded as he repositioned himself in her path. “I saw you earlier today and you weren't Amish.”

One corner of her mouth lifted. “I assure you I've been Amish for a while now. Ever since birth, actually. But if you saw me earlier, why are you still here?” Her half smile faded as she glanced at the empty parking lot.

For a moment he thought she might bolt like a white-tailed deer at the sound of gunfire. “Please, let me explain. I saw you with my sister from inside the house. My name is Jake Brady.” He stretched out his hand. “I'm Jessie's brother.”

She stared at his hand briefly before shaking. “Rachel King, the new tour guide. If you'll excuse me, Mr. Brady, I need to start for home. I'm already late.”

“Mr. Brady is my father. Call me Jake. And please give me another chance to start off on the right foot. I'm usually only this big of a jerk during first introductions.”

Halting twenty feet away, Rachel glanced back. “Because I wear English clothes while working here, not realizing I'm Amish was an honest mistake. So you must not be
the
biggest jerk…Jake.” Her smile returned. “And because your sister is so nice, it's hard to believe you're a jerk at all. I'll see you next Wednesday.” She straightened her bonnet and marched down the path at double time.

He stared until her cornflower blue dress disappeared from sight. Such a pretty shade of blue—almost as pretty as the color of her eyes.

Amish or not, Jake Brady had just met the woman of his dreams.

FOUR

Was blind, but now I see

Wednesday

Y
ou're not running off to your new job with an empty belly.” Sarah stood at the bottom of the stairs, yelling in a fashion atypical of most Amish people.

“I'll be right down,” hollered Rachel, equally boisterous. She looked once more into her hand mirror before sticking it into the dresser drawer. She'd braided her long hair, coiled it atop her head and fastened it with pins, and then pulled on her
kapp
. Once at work, she would remove her head covering and the pins, allowing the braid to trail down her back. She tucked her English clothes into a tote bag and applied the tiniest bit of blush to her cheeks. Because she was never outdoors without a bonnet, she was pale compared to Jessie. She'd bought the makeup at the Dollar Store back in Lancaster while feeling particularly bold one Saturday afternoon.

“Rachel, anyone with your God-given beauty has no need for cosmetics.” Her sister's declaration ran through her brain, bringing
along a fresh wave of homesickness. Amy—content raising organic celery and other vegetables in upstate Maine. And Nora—preparing to leave on a trip home to Pennsylvania with her new husband. Both of her older sisters were married and settled. Rachel sent up a silent prayer for them without the slightest shred of jealousy. The only thing she wanted was to give her first solo tour without forgetting everything she'd been memorizing for days.

Please, Lord, stay close so I don't make a complete fool of myself or get fired on my first day
. With her prayer on its way, Rachel grabbed her bag and bolted down the steps.

“There you are,” huffed Sarah. “Sit. Isaac is hitching up the gelding. I made bacon, blueberry pancakes, buttermilk biscuits, and fried eggs. We have orange juice and coffee too.”

Rachel poured a mug and sat down at the table. “Is that all? That's barely enough to keep a sparrow alive.” She winked at her cousin.

“That's why I packed you two sandwiches plus fruit and chips for your lunch.” Sarah sat across from her and they bowed their heads in silent prayer.

Afterward Rachel bit into a biscuit dripping with butter. “
Danki
. I am in your debt.”

“Nonsense. With all the housecleaning you did yesterday, I'm in yours. I should have invited you to Kentucky long ago. Oh, I almost forgot—I have a gift to celebrate your new job. I bought it at our English neighbor's garage sale last summer.” She handed Rachel an insulated travel mug that read: I love Fridays. “It will keep drinks either hot or cold.”

“This will come in handy. Thank you.” Rachel concentrated on her plate to avoid becoming too emotional. After all, she was starting her first job, not leading the Israelites out of Egypt.

With her new mug in hand, she drove the three miles to Twelve Elms Stables. As instructed by Jessie, she turned Isaac's gelding into a paddock near the family barn and left the buggy in the shade.
After changing into jeans and a T-shirt that advertised the stable in bright red letters, she walked into the employee break room.

Everyone turned to look at her. One woman smiled and pointed to a box sitting on the table. “I believe that's for you if your name is Rachel.”

“Thanks,” she said, picking up the box wrapped in blue tissue paper with a big white bow. Inside she found a pair of almost-new riding boots. Jessie had enclosed a card that read, “Good luck and (don't) break a leg.” Oddly, the word “don't” had been enclosed in parentheses. Then an entire line of
x
's and
o
's followed Jessie's signature. Rachel slipped the card into her pocket and the boots onto her feet. She wondered if she would ever understand all of the English expressions, but at least the boots fit perfectly. No sore feet by the end of the day.

She grinned at the grooms, stable hands, and farm workers who wandered in and out of the room. People nodded and smiled while filling coffee mugs or heating up breakfast pastries. Someone had left a box of donuts on the table, while two huge dispensers provided chilled water. Rachel went over to one and filled her travel mug before stashing it with her tote bag in her new locker. Someone had placed a label identifying “Rachel King” in the little metal window. A wall sign reminded employees to “Clean up after yourself because your mother doesn't work here.”

Rachel headed from the break room to the barn of Buster and Bess, grabbing some apples from the basket along the way. She greeted her new equine best friends with gentle strokes and tasty treats. After leading them into the sunshine, she easily hitched the pair to the red tour wagon as Jessie had taught her. Next she wiped down the wagon seats and handrails with sanitizer and paper towels, and then she swept the floor to make sure not a speck of dust remained. Once she had parked the wagon in the designated loading zone, she entered the stable office. Keeley sat alone in the room, spinning around in the swivel chair.

“Hi, Rachel,” she sang out.

“Good morning.” Rachel greeted the girl fondly.

“Jessie said I should ask you if you wanted me to tag along during your first tour or if you would prefer I just collected money and let you take the bull by the horns solo.” Keeley gave the chair a final spin.

The child's multipart question took Rachel a moment to decipher. But once she did, she answered with traditional Amish succinctness: “Solo, thank you.”

“Good to hear. I would hate to miss my game shows on TV.”

An abstract thought occurred. “Why aren't you in school today? It's Wednesday.”

“Dad let me stay home because it's your first day.” Keeley handed over a plastic contraption. “This is a walkie-talkie. I have one inside the house. If anything goes wrong, just press this red button and speak normally into it. Dad or Jake or I will come running.”

“What kind of things do you mean?” asked Rachel, inspecting the gadget.

Keeley gave her chair another spin. “Oh, old people having heart attacks, or if one of the horses breaks a leg in a gopher hole, or if a wheel falls off the wagon.” She glanced at the wall clock, grabbed the cash box, and headed out the door.

Sarah's heavy breakfast churned in Rachel's stomach. “Do those sorts of events happen often?” She followed Keeley down the steps into the late summer sunshine. The cool breeze felt wonderful on her skin.

“Not so far, thank goodness. But Jessie told me to explain the walkie-talkie and what it's for.” Keeley looked up at her. “Jessie really likes you and hopes you will like giving tours.”

“And I, her. I'm sure I'll enjoy working here.”