LITMIR.BIZ

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to hear you say that. So do I. I’m going to move your legs to the side of the bed.”

      “I can do it.” He didn’t wait for her help. He swung his feet off the bed and used his elbows to push himself into a sitting position. He kept his hands raised so he wouldn’t bump them.

      She touched his shoulder. “Are you dizzy?”

      “A little.” He hated to admit it.

      “Take some deep breaths.”

      He did and the wooziness passed.

      “Now, I’m going to keep hold of your elbow while you stand.”

      “What if I fall?”

      “I’ll try not to trip over you while I’m making your bed.”

      He wasn’t amused. “Very funny.”

      “I thought so.”

      “I’m serious. I could fall and hurt you.”

      “You could, but you won’t. If you start feeling weak, I’ll have a chair right behind you.”

      He heard her drag the ladder-back chair that sat at his desk closer. “Are you ready?”

      “Will you pour water on my head if I say I’m not?”

      “Nee, I would not want to get your bandages wet. However, I notice you don’t have any dressings on your back.”

      His father was going to have to get rid of this woman. “What kind of nurse would pour cold water down her patient’s back?”

      “One who is tired of waiting for her patient to get out of bed!”

      He rose to his feet, fully expecting to pitch forward on his face the way he had the first time he’d tried to stand by himself. It had been agony getting up and back into bed without help. He never wanted to feel so helpless and alone again.

      “Very good. Take two paces forward and then turn left. The doorway will be directly in front of you.”

      With her firm grip on his elbow to guide him, he managed half a dozen steps, but his hands were starting to throb and his legs were growing weaker. He held his hands higher. The thought of descending the stairs without being able to see made his legs shake. Fear sent cold shivers crawling down his spine.

      “That’s enough for now,” she said. “Go ahead and sit down. The chair is right behind you.”

      He had to trust her. His knees gave way. He sat abruptly, but the chair was in the right spot. At least he wasn’t lying facedown on the floor.

      “Raise your hands a little higher. I’m going to pile some pillows on your lap so you can rest your arms on them.”

      He braced for the ordeal, but she handled his burned hands with gentleness, arranging the pillows at the perfect height for his comfort. “You did very well, Samuel.”

      Was 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.

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