The Winnowing Season

by Cindy Woodsmall

  Urie was a bishop over numerous districts in Morgansville that composed a large Amish community. Was he so caught up in being chosen by God that he’d forgotten any man could become corrupt? Even King Saul and King Jehu began as good men.

  What possessed any man’s heart so fully that he believed he was doing right by the church when he planned and plotted against good, well-meaning people? The sadness of it was too much for Rhoda, and tears welled in her eyes.

  Rueben smirked. He must have thought he made her cry. And truth be told, for the first time she did weep for him and for all those like him who were so smug in their religious convictions. People who could not see that the pleasures of stirring gossip and spreading lies would be short lived.

  Did Urie think God was fooled? Or was his conscience so fully fixed on today—and his expectations of God’s favor so sure—that his conscience applauded him?

  If she could go to Maine, she would be out from under this man’s authority. If she had to work on the orchard in Maine year round until her hands bled, she would sing praises to God for freeing her. She believed in the Amish ways; their beauty was far greater than the world could see. But not when people were under a bishop like Urie Glick and the man he had become. She prayed for whoever would be chosen as church leaders in the new district. Prayed that the men and their wives would be full of love and mercy. Prayed their heartaches and egos would not grow so large that they would set themselves up as judges, allowing deceitful men like Rueben to bring false statements because it’s what the heads of the church wanted to hear.

  Urie glanced at the papers once more. “Have you ever used your abilities to make a profit?” He lowered the paper from his face and peered at her over the top of his glasses. “Well?”

  Hearing a chair move, he looked toward the back of the room, then yanked off his glasses. “Samuel King, sit down! We are fully aware that you take exception to our questions, perhaps because you are hopeful of profiting from the partnership you’ve made with her.” Urie returned his focus to Rhoda, but she was fairly confident he had sown doubt about Samuel’s motives in the hearts of everyone in the room.

  Rhoda licked her lips. “Nee.”

  “How can you be sure of it?”

  Someone knocked on the front door, and one of the women went to answer it. Samuel’s uncle, a preacher in Lancaster, walked in with another man.

  Urie moved to them and met them with a kiss on each cheek. The men whispered with Urie for a bit before they sat somewhere behind Rhoda.

  Urie went to the front of the room again. “I’d like to welcome Preacher Mervin King and Bishop David Yoder with us tonight from Lancaster. Let’s extend to them a Morgansville welcome.”

  Rhoda slumped in her chair. Just what she hadn’t wanted—leaders of other Amish communities knowing what was said here tonight. Worse, they were relatives of the Kings.

  This had to be Samuel’s doing. Surely he knew how his Daed felt about her. Why did he think his bishop or his uncle would feel any different?

  Samuel had put her in this spot where people could hurl their harsh judgments and anger. Was this what it would be like in Maine—Samuel, with the best of intentions, continually taking charge of her life, setting things in motion that she couldn’t undo?

  His actions used to make clear, logical sense. She disagreed with many of them, but she’d understood how he came to his decisions. But lately, very little of what Samuel did made sense. And she couldn’t help wondering …

  What had happened to the friendship she and Samuel once shared?

  NINE

  Jacob tapped his fingers on the fake leather wingback chair. The hotel room didn’t match the lobby at all. It looked old and cramped. Sandra was on the couch in front of him, fidgeting nonstop as she described that her apartment had been ransacked.

  So it had begun. Again. He wasn’t surprised. Only disappointed.

  He leaned in. “But it could have been a random burglary, right?”

  She got up and crossed the room. “That’s what I’d hoped even though I knew better. But the place was ripped apart by someone who was searching for something specific. This wasn’t the randomness of a burglar.” She pulled an envelope from her purse and passed it to him. “Besides, hours into cleaning up I found this.”

  Jacob opened it and read the handwritten message: You know what we want. We’ve been through this before. We won’t lose you twice. You can bet your child’s life on it.

  What kind of people threatened to kill a child over money?

  “If they were watching you—”

  “Give me credit, Jacob. I pulled a stunt those goons have yet to figure out. Trust me.”

  He moved to the hotel window and looked down on Main Street. Night had closed in, and people milled about under the yellow glow of street lamps. Most had on a lightweight sweater or jacket, a testament to how warm this fall had been. “You coming here wasn’t as good a plan as I’d thought.”

  Sandra plunked onto the couch, her shoulder-length brown hair waving as she did. “Yeah, well it’s the only one we had.”

  A horse and carriage ambled through town, and he wished he was in it with Rhoda. They were supposed to spend a little time with her folks tonight. Landon was going to drive them to Morgansville after the summer kitchen was packed up.

  An uneasy feeling shrouded him. How was she doing at the meeting? What excuse had his brother given concerning his sudden departure? He brushed off his gloom and focused on what needed to be done.

  Casey sat at the far end of the couch, watching cartoons on television. Whenever she looked his way, her dark eyes held a scowl. Her fingers were in her mouth, and a pink blanket was curled in her lap. He remembered holding her the night she was born, and his need to protect her grew a little stronger. “It’s hard to believe she’s gotten so big.”

  “Two and a half years of being a single mom, watching every shadow as I come and go, magnifying every bump in the night, wondering if they’ve found me and what will happen to my little girl if they do.” Tears ran down Sandra’s face, and she swiped at them. “Sorry,” she sniffed. “I’m just so tired. None of it’s fair, not to me or you, and certainly not to Casey. Sometimes I feel as if so much water has passed under the bridge that she should be five, maybe ten by now, instead of just two.”

  Casey pulled her fingers from her mouth and splayed two of them to her mom.

  “Yeah, baby, you’re two.” Tears fell from Sandra’s eyes. “You’re getting to be a big girl, aren’t you?” Sandra looked at Jacob. “It’s obvious you don’t want us here, so what happens to me and Casey now that you have someone?”

  He grabbed a box of tissues off the desk and tossed them to her. “I’ll keep my word. We’re in this together. But a group of Amish are making a new settlement in Maine. The Kings and Bylers pull out tomorrow morning. At least two other families from elsewhere in Pennsylvania will join us before spring, but they have homes to sell first.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “Yeah, which means our original plan of finding you a place to live in Harvest Mills is out.” He grabbed her suitcase and flung it onto the bed. “Pack up. I have to do something with my horse first. And then we’re heading for Maine, as close to Orchard Bend as we can get.”

  “I didn’t know Amish people even lived there.”

  “We’ll be the first.”

  Her eyes opened wide. “That’s a far cry from you living among hundreds of Amish and swarms of Kings.”

  He knew that, but Kings’ Orchard needed this new apple farm. “We’ll drive part of the way, dump the car somewhere, and go the rest of the way by public transportation.”

  “Leave my car?”

  Jacob picked up a few articles of Casey’s clothing and threw them into the suitcase. “Off the grid, Sandra—nothing in your name that can be made public record or traced. I said that the last time I helped you move. You refused, and here we are. It’s the only way.” He could only hope she’d been right about not being followed. Oth
erwise he’d just helped to bring trouble to his parents’ doorstep.

  “You won’t find that off-the-grid thing so easy now that you’re moving. Did you buy a home?”

  “I made sure my name is on nothing, not even renting the moving van.”

  “That’s good.” She looked relieved. “When you guys get there, you’ll have to continue being vigilant. Keep your name off all bills—phone, gas, garbage pickup, and whatever else Amish might get bills for. That insurance adjuster knew your name and your Social Security number and that you’re Amish. He’s bound to have Internet alerts set up.”

  Jacob shoved a few toys into the suitcase. “I used the Net plenty of times while with you and Blaine, but I have no idea what that means.”

  “That’s where someone, in this case the adjuster, uses a search engine to set up an alert. If he used your name—and I promise you he has—when a ‘Jacob King’ is entered anywhere on the Net, he’ll get an alert in his inbox. The good news is you have a common name, but this move that only a few Amish are making will mean you’ll be more likely to stick out, and it’ll be easier to slip onto the grid.”

  He didn’t know about the search engine alerts, but he’d been cautious about keeping his name off the mortgage and other things.

  Sandra went into the bathroom and came back with a handful of dirty clothes and a few toiletries. “You want us off that grid too. Are you suggesting we live with you?”

  “Of course not. We can’t afford for people to start asking questions. The less everyone knows, the safer they are.” He took a bottle of ibuprofen off the nightstand, tightened the lid, and tossed it into the suitcase. “Anything else?”

  “That’s all of it.” She stepped back. “Have you told your girl … you know … about someone blaming you for ordering the substandard materials that led to—”

  “No.” He closed the suitcase. “Don’t finish that sentence. Ever.” How could he tell Rhoda when he couldn’t tolerate the thoughts of what had happened?

  “But she knows about the insurance adjuster looking for you?”

  “No.”

  “About me and Casey?”

  He shook his head.

  “Well, what does she know?”

  “That I have secrets I don’t want to talk about.”

  “And she accepts that?”

  “For now. Maybe for always. I don’t know.”

  Sandra pulled the elastic from her hair and then banded it up again. “Still leaving the long-term planning to those who have the stomach for it?”

  “That’s not who I am anymore, but telling her about this mess serves no purpose, not for her or me.” He picked up the suitcase and headed for the door. “I have a future with her. I’m sure of it, and I don’t intend for the mistakes I made when I stepped away from Amish life to mold the rest of my days.”

  She lifted Casey and followed him out of the room. “I’ve got a reality check for you.” She spoke softly as they headed for the elevator.

  He hated her reality checks. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not hear it.”

  “What you got involved with may have begun with innocent mistakes—only you know how blameless you were at the start. But then you plotted and planned your way into a hole, betting you could come out a winner.” She set Casey higher on her hip. “You lost, and you may never be free. If not, you’re asking her to get into that hole with you, and she has the right to decide whether she’s willing to do that. Otherwise, you’re pulling her into it without her knowledge. Blaine did that to me, and look how well that turned out.”

  Her words were sobering, and he hadn’t thought of it that way. “Like I said, the less my loved ones know, the safer they are.” Once at the elevators, he pushed the Down button. “My not telling Rhodes is different than Blaine keeping secrets from you. It’s not out of greed or a desire to outdo the system or hide a second family.” The moment the words about Blaine’s second family left his mouth, he regretted them. “Sorry.”

  “So you’ve said.”

  Her tone let him know that she’d yet to really forgive him for knowing Blaine had someone else and not telling her. She needed his help, so she would remain friendly enough, but he’d let her down in ways he couldn’t make up for.

  Jacob shook his head. “I made mistakes I won’t make again. I’m no longer the farm kid who just fell off the turnip wagon. I know who I can and can’t trust. My nightmare began when I trusted Blaine, thinking that he was who he said he was and that he cared about someone’s interest other than his own.”

  “Forget Blaine. This is about you, and I’m telling you that your girl needs to know—”

  “Sandra.” He pushed the button again, all but demanding the elevator to hurry. “Stop giving me advice, please.” The doors opened, and they stepped inside the empty box. “We have one goal right now, and it’s not deciding how much I need to reveal to Rhodes. We have to shake the people who found you and then get to Maine without leaving a trail for anyone to follow.”

  As they went out the back door of the motel, he hoped he knew what he was doing. In the past, whenever he dealt with Blaine or Sandra, he always ended up doing the same thing—making the situation for himself a lot worse.

  TEN

  Samuel couldn’t believe what was happening. Every question led to shadowy hints that Rhoda embodied a kind of evil he couldn’t even grasp. What was wrong with these church leaders? And why were his own church leaders remaining silent? He understood his ministers needing to yield to and respect the authority of another bishop, but weren’t they going to intervene at all? Their reason for not speaking up couldn’t be the orderliness of this meeting. People were huddling their heads together and whispering throughout the public questioning.

  Urie picked up a pocket-size notebook from the table and opened it. “Let’s focus on the night your berry garden was destroyed. Do you believe that Rueben caused the destruction?”

  Rhoda hesitated, but finally Samuel heard a soft “Ya.”

  “You told people you thought it was Rueben?”

  She didn’t answer. Samuel started to stand, longing to defend her by describing that evening in vivid detail. Karl put his hand on Samuel’s shoulder and shook his head, so Samuel did as her father wanted.

  “Kumm, now, Rhoda. Did you tell people you thought it was Rueben?”

  She remained silent.

  Samuel leaned in toward Karl. “Why isn’t she answering?”

  “If she denies it, Urie has the letter you sent that will prove she told others. If she admits to telling others, she’s guilty of gossip, and they’ll use your letter as proof of it.”

  “Gossip?” That was a serious transgression, one often broken but rarely punished. “What’s the worst they’ll do?”

  “If she looks like a divisive member, she could be forced to stay until they feel she’s repented properly, and she’ll be shunned for a period of time.”

  “But …” What had he done?

  Karl searched Samuel’s eyes, and Samuel swallowed hard. He’d been so sure that alerting the leadership was the right thing to do. But Rueben was making a mockery of their nonresistant Amish ways, using bullying and violence just because he could get away with it.

  Who else was Rueben mistreating and getting away with it because his uncle was the bishop?

  “Well, we don’t need your answer. We have the letter from Samuel, so clearly you’ve been telling others. What makes you think Rueben is the one who went through your garden, pulling the bushes up by the roots?”

  Again she said nothing.

  “Were there horseshoe tracks in the garden?”

  “No.”

  “What then? Tire tracks?”

  “Ya.”

  “You think Rueben owns a vehicle no one knows about?”

  She shrugged.

  “So you didn’t see him. You have no proof it was him, but you told others it was Rueben?”

  Her silence had Samuel twisting his felt hat until it ripped. Were his
bishop and his uncle ever going to speak up?

  “So why didn’t you tell your church authorities about the incident?” Urie waited. “Rhoda, you will find your tongue and answer me.”

  Samuel’s bishop raised his hand.

  Urie acknowledged David with a nod.

  “Perhaps I’m completely wrong,” he said politely, “and please forgive me if I am, but maybe if you allowed more than a yes or no, she’d be more willing to answer, and we’d be out of here before midnight.”

  A few people chuckled.

  Urie pursed his lips, not looking too pleased with the suggestion, but he nodded. “Very well. No one wants to be here any longer than necessary.” He looped his thumbs through his suspenders. “The question was, why didn’t you tell your church authorities about the incident?”

  Rhoda straightened. “I thought it best to keep the incident between those who saw the destruction that night. Samuel King was one of those people.”

  “So, by your own admission, you didn’t see Rueben do any of the damage, but you blamed him. And everyone in your family, as well as Samuel King, believed you? It seems you have a lot of influence over those who spend time with you.”

  Samuel sighed. What was that? Another hint that Rhoda was a witch, that she had cast a spell on those who came close? This man could twist anything to sound as he wanted it to. Tonight’s meeting wasn’t about what Rhoda had done. It was about what events could be made to look like. Samuel wanted to stand up and scream at Urie. He had to get out of here before he made the situation for Rhoda worse.

  People continued to whisper as Urie questioned her, so Samuel stood up and turned to Karl. “I can’t sit here any longer.”

  Karl propped his forearms on his legs, blocking Samuel from leaving the row. “You can, and you will.”

  Samuel motioned to the front, not caring that people around him were watching. “This is a disgrace!”