picked the top dress off the pile of clothes. The color was midnight blue—Caleb would be happy about that—and the fabric was a good cotton that would last. It was also soft to the touch. She ran her hand across it, humbled by all that these women, who were strangers to her, had given.
“We’ll need to take those in, of course. You’re shorter and smaller than Rebekah’s girls.”
“Won’t they need these?”
“Not likely, both have put on a good bit of weight since marrying, and that was before they were expecting her first grandchildren. No, I don’t think they’ll be needing them back.”
There were underclothes, kapps, two outdoor bonnets and a coat. All except the underclothes were used, but in good condition. Someone had brought a Bible and a journal for writing in. She thought those might come in handy. Dr. Gold had mentioned that writing a little every day might help her memories return. There was also a new scarf and gloves, knitted in a dark gray that had a touch of shimmer to it. “This is beautiful work.”
“Melinda can do wonders with a knitting needle. I’ve always been more of a crochet person myself.”
Rachel stood up, went to the room she was staying in and returned with the blue scarf she’d apparently been wearing when Caleb had found her. No coat, but a scarf—strange indeed. “I think—I think I might be a knitter.”
“That’s why you knew about the alpaca yarn.”
“Maybe. I think so. I know this is called a stockinette pattern—you alternate rows of knitting with rows of purling.” She closed her eyes, could almost see herself adjusting the tension in her yarn, squinting at a pattern, knitting needles flying. She could be imagining, or she could be remembering. There was no way to know.
“Are you remembering anything else?”
“Only that this—” She ran her fingers over the scarf, then draped it around her neck. “It seems very familiar.”
“That’s a beginning.”
“If only I could remember more, but when I try, the headaches return.”
Ida walked over to the bookcase and brought back the packet of information from the doctor at the hospital. Rachel had already rifled through it twice. There were instructions, what to expect, warning signs, as well as two cards—one for her next appointment with Dr. Gold and another card with the name and contact information for a Dr. Michie. She’d spoken with the doctor a few minutes before leaving the hospital. She was a counselor of some sort and had told Rachel to call her if she’d like to make an appointment.
Ida sat beside Rachel on the couch and they both stared down at the top page.
Ida read aloud from the sheet. “‘Symptoms of a concussion include brief loss of consciousness.’”
“Check.”
“‘Memory problems.’”
“We all know I have that.”
“‘Confusion.’”
Rachel leaned forward, propped her elbows on her knees and pressed her fingertips to her forehead. “Sometimes, when I can’t remember how I know something, I feel terribly confused.”
Ida nodded and continued with the list. “‘Drowsiness or feeling sluggish.’”
“Twice this morning I went back and laid down on the bed for a few minutes.”
“Only because I insisted. You need to recognize when things are overwhelming you. It’s important for a woman to learn to take care of herself. You’re no use to your family—”
“I don’t have one.”
“Or anyone else if you allow yourself to become ill or exhausted.”
Rachel heard the concern in Ida’s voice, but she couldn’t bring herself to meet her gaze. “I’m batting a thousand, as my bruder would say...”
She slapped her hand over her mouth.
Ida reached over and clutched her hand. “That’s gut, Rachel. You’re starting to remember. That’s a gut sign.”
“I suppose.”
“Can you remember his name?”
“Nein.”
“Older or younger?”
She closed her eyes and tried to picture her family, tried to recall anything from her past, but to no avail.
Her heart was racing and her mind was spinning off in a dozen directions, but she couldn’t quite grasp even one solid piece of information about her former life—other than she had a brother. Was he worried? Was he looking for her?
Finally, she motioned for Ida to continue with the list of symptoms. They knew she had a concussion, the doctor had confirmed as much, but it helped to know that the things she was feeling and experiencing weren’t unusual.
“‘Dizziness or blurred vision.’”
“A little yesterday, when I first woke up in the hospital.”
“‘Headache.’”
“Ya, especially when I try to remember.”
“‘Nausea or vomiting.’”
“Not since I started eating.”
“‘Sensitivity to light.’”
“That’s on there?” She scooted closer and peered at the sheet. “I tried going outside for a few moments earlier, but the sunshine felt like a pitchfork in my brain. I found myself wishing I had my sunglasses.”
“Another puzzle piece. You have a bruder and you wore sunglasses.”
“Doesn’t everyone?”
“Perhaps.” Ida tapped the last item on the list. “What about balance problems? Any trouble there?”
“I’m not sure. Let’s check.” Rachel jumped up and pretended to walk a straight line, holding her hands out to the side. She pivoted and started back toward Ida, touching her nose with first her right and then left index finger as she walked. Ida began to laugh, and then Rachel began to laugh, and soon they were giggling like schoolgirls.
And, of course, that was the moment that Caleb walked inside, a frown pulling down the corners of his mouth. Why did he always seem to be disapproving of her? She pitied the woman that did decide to marry him or even date him. Caleb Wittmer might be a good man, but he wasn’t much fun to be around, and life should include some fun. Shouldn’t it?
“We’re about to head over to see the alpacas.”
“Oh, well, I hope it goes well, dear.”
“Actually I was wondering...”
“About?”
“Lunch.”
Ida started laughing again, and then she spread her arms to encompass the pile of goods their neighbors had brought. “We’ve been pretty busy in here.”
“I see that.”
“Our neighbors brought all of these things for Rachel.”
“Wunderbaar.”
“Honestly I forgot about making lunch, but I’ll throw some sandwiches together.”
Caleb nodded as if that made sense. His mother brushed past him, humming as she went into the kitchen.
“Let me guess.” Rachel couldn’t have stopped the smile spreading across her face if she’d tried, which she didn’t. “You’re not used to eating sandwiches.”
“Actually I can’t remember the last