“Hello?” An elderly woman’s voice crackled through the phone.
“Erlene, this is Jacob King.”
“Oh, yeah. You were supposed to be with the others when I picked them up at the train station.”
“That’s right, and I need to get a message to Rhoda. Do you mind?”
“I won’t mind as long as you’ve got good news. I’ve had to take them two messages so far, and at this point nobody’s made it to the farm except the three women and the two little ones I drove there before dark. They don’t have a stick of furniture or even a candle, but they insisted on staying the night.”
Jacob wanted to thud his head against the wall. It was apparent the others were experiencing Murphy’s Law too. “What’s going on?”
“The man driving the moving van wasn’t scheduled to arrive until tomorrow anyway. But Landon and Samuel had all the necessary items for getting through tonight—mattresses, blankets, kitchen utensils, and kerosene lanterns—and they were going to stop by the store on their way in and get food so they could cook.”
“Ya.” Get to the point, Erlene. Unfortunately, she seemed eager to chat.
“According to Landon, they were pulling a utility trailer that belongs to his dad. One of the tires blew out in the middle of nowhere, and the spare was flat. Rhoda’s brother hasn’t arrived either. Something about the railroad holding the livestock until they get an official release. But what I don’t understand is why those young women wouldn’t agree to stay with me tonight.”
Jacob could explain it, but he wouldn’t. The reason wouldn’t endear folks to their new Amish neighbors. The first rule of starting an Amish settlement was to be as self-sufficient as possible, and depending on Englisch neighbors, even for a night, wasn’t in the handbook. Not that there was an actual handbook. His Daed had told Samuel, Rhoda, and Jacob that unless life or limb was at stake, they had to make do or do without, and Rhoda wasn’t going to disrespect that so one or two nights would be easier.
“I even asked if I could bring them some blankets and food, but they said no. Rhoda said they had sandwiches your mother had packed and plenty of warm clothes, so they’d be fine.”
Jacob needed to explain a few things to Erlene. It wasn’t the Amish way to inform folks how to circumvent Amish customs, but he felt he had no choice. “We Amish can be a little peculiar about things like that, Erlene. You can’t ask Rhoda if she’ll accept your help. Just take her whatever you’re comfortable with and put it in her hands. If she declines, you set it down on the porch or in the house. They’ll not only use it, but you’ll receive gifts from every harvest Rhoda reaps for years to come.”
“I’m glad you called, Jacob. I’ve been pacing the floor, trying to reach Landon. I guess his cell isn’t getting a connection. But it may drop to freezing tonight, and those girls don’t have any heat.”
He knew they wouldn’t have heat tonight. They needed to fill the propane tank out back. But the old farmhouse had a fireplace in nearly every room, so he’d planned on building fires as needed. It had never crossed his mind that Samuel might not get there before nightfall.
Erlene cleared her throat. “I’ll tell you what. How about you call me back, and I’ll let it go to the answering machine. Then you can leave whatever message you’d like to for Rhoda, and I’ll let her listen to it.”
What could he say to Rhoda? “Sorry to bail on you, Rhodes. I want to be there, but I’m helping another woman while you fend for yourself.”
“Thanks, Erlene. I appreciate it. Please tell her that I called and that I’ll be there as soon as I can. It may be a few days yet, though.”
They said their good-byes. What was he going to tell Rhoda the next time he talked to her? He couldn’t explain about Sandra and Casey. Even if he did, it would make his relationship with her sound less important to him than his obligation to Sandra and Casey. What if she—what did she call it?—read him? What if she caught a glimpse of his past? She wouldn’t need to dig very deep before she knew about …
He closed his eyes against the screams echoing inside his head. He all but slammed his fist on the counter.
Stop! You fool!
But the wailing grew louder, and cold sweat beaded across his forehead as he forced the images away. If he was going to get through this with Sandra and return to his real life, he couldn’t allow himself to think about certain things. And when he got home, he had to be careful that Rhoda didn’t pick up on them either.
THIRTEEN
The cool, hard floor of the small bedroom motivated Rhoda to get up despite her exhaustion. Her eyes felt too dry to keep open, but she caught glimpses of the room as she grabbed the dried branches she’d collected last night and tossed them onto the fire. Leah, Phoebe, and the little ones were shapeless lumps under blankets near her. Even their heads were under the covers.
What time was it? She had no way of knowing. Probably three or four in the morning. The faint glow from the hearth gave her enough light to see. She stoked the fire. Sparks flew. Wood shifted. Flames danced. Long shadows twisted ordinary lines and corners in the room. The quietness seemed to take on sounds all its own, like the whisper of a child.
Tell them.
She closed her eyes, tears welling. Please, God. Not again, please, not ever again.
A howl sent a shiver up her spine. She wasn’t sure, but it sounded like wolves. Maybe coyotes.
She set the poker next to the hearth and moved to the window. The leaves of mostly barren apple trees eased to and fro in the wind. She rested her forehead against the window frame, desperate to be as normal as a tree in an orchard. Why couldn’t she be like those around her?
One long howl became two, maybe three. Wolves or coyotes. She didn’t see any dogs. Wasn’t that how life worked for her? Eerie sounds with no visible source. Between the howls came whispers. A child’s indistinct pleas turned deep, as if he had grown up within those few seconds.
Rhoda wasn’t positive she was even awake.
Phoebe stirred a bit, and her hand reached from under the blankets and touched her son, feeling and then tugging the quilt to make sure it was covering Isaac. She rolled over and did the same for her little girl. Then she curled up under the warmth of her blanket and grew still.
Love. It ruled most women’s hearts, and Rhoda often felt its void as other things filled her soul. Like longing and loneliness. Gardening gave her something to pour her love into, and it was a distraction from her isolation. But that was before joining Kings’ Orchard and meeting Jacob. Was tonight a sign of what was to come?
At least Jacob had sent a message, even if it was cryptic and gave her cause for concern.
Apparently she was awake, because even her dreams weren’t this restless. She’d best leave the room before she woke the others. She tiptoed down the narrow stairs, the house creaking and groaning with every step. Eeriness followed her. It hadn’t the first time she came here, when Jacob was by her side.
The night closed in on her, bringing fear. How was the dark able to do what day could not? The night didn’t have that power often, but when it did …
Why wasn’t Jacob here? He had a way of making anxiety and anger disappear. His presence was like a drug. The world would start to close in, with screeches and threats of pain, and he’d smile or crack a joke or give her a glimpse of the sadness that he carried with such determination.
She felt strong again. Less alone in her own struggles.
Turning the corner of the short landing, she saw a moonlit shadow move across the wooden floor. The silhouette sprang from the floor and became real, suddenly inches from her!
She screamed.
“Rhoda, it’s me.”
Her heart leaped, fear still pounding.
“Samuel.” She melted against him, her breathless word echoing like the children’s voices in her mind. He put a hand under her elbows, pushing her away.
“It’s okay,” he assured her as he eased her onto the stairs. Even with just a quarter moon, the room was ba
thed in a silvery glow.
It seemed unfair for eeriness to start again. She had moved seven hundred miles from where Emma had died, yet the voices had followed her. The taunting. The isolation. She had no one and nothing to turn to for refuge, not even her garden.
Samuel backed up, his mannerisms stiff. “You okay?”
She tried to find her voice. “I will be. The stress and lack of sleep have given way to unfounded anxiety and wild imaginations. Where’s Landon?”
“After we picked up a few groceries, he dropped me off, disconnected the trailer, and went to his granny’s. Jacob?”
She shrugged. “Not here.”
“What?” His eyes bore into hers.
“He left a message with Erlene. He hopes to be here in a few days. Where is he? What would pull him away like this?”
Samuel shook his head, jaw clenched. “I can’t say anything. I’ve told you that, but Steven’s here, right?”
She shook her head.
“What happened that even your brother isn’t here?” He sighed. “Never mind.”
A wild dog howled, and Rhoda jolted, losing the tad of composure she’d gained only moments ago.
“You are rattled.” He sat next to her. “Take slow, deep breaths.”
“You’ve been here less than two minutes, and already you’re telling me what to do.” Somehow, jabbing at him made bits of anxiety dissolve.
“Don’t listen to me, then. Take a quick breath and hold it. And just keep holding it.”
She laughed. “Denki.”
“I’m here to help in any way I can.”
Samuel seemed different somehow. No less burdened, if that was the right word, but changed. She couldn’t help but chuckle. “I do believe I just caught a glimpse of the real Samuel King for the first time in too long.”
“Ya. Leave it to me to show up every full moon.”
“It’s a crescent, not even close to full.”
“Leave it to you to walk all over my efforts to be witty.”
“Sorry.”
He released a heavy breath. “Ya, Rhoda, me too.” The sincerity in his voice said far more than he ever would in words. This was not an apology for how hard her day and night had been or for refusing to tell her anything about Jacob or for not devising a backup plan for the three women and two children once he knew Jacob wasn’t traveling with them. It went deeper.
She stared into the soft darkness between them, trying to see beyond the mask he usually wore.
He sighed. “We had a flat tire and no spare about halfway here. I stayed with the truck while Landon went with a roadside-assistance man to get the tire repaired. The long wait gave me too much time to think.” His eyes met hers. “It’s not your fault, but I’ve been taking things out on you. I’m sorry.”
She couldn’t budge. He must have had a God moment somewhere along the line to be so vulnerable.
“And rather than working with you when you’re wrong,”—Rhoda swallowed, finding it difficult to apologize—“I’ve been acting like ‘you’re not the boss of me.’ And I regret responding so childishly. But you took something from me when you went behind my back and wrote that letter. I know you’re sorry I got hurt, but what would mean more is if you could tell me you’ll never do that to me again.”
“I don’t know what you mean. What is it you want?”
Could he cope with her answer, or would he get frustrated and shut her out? She wanted to lean in and whisper, “It’s started.” When he asked what she meant, she’d tell him about the children’s voices and the eerie feeling and even the words Tell them, whatever that meant.
She met his gaze. “To be able to confide in you again.”
He stared at her. “You have Jacob for that.” He stretched his legs and stood. “But I’d like for us to work together without snapping and growling at each other. Okay?”
She nodded.
He pulled a candle, its holder, and a lighter out of his coat pocket. “I need to unload the trailer.” He pushed the candle into its holder, lit it, and passed it to her.
The flame cast a circular glow, causing a surprising abundance of shadows for the small gleam of light. Samuel opened the back door, and a wind rushed through the room. The flame danced, as did the silhouettes.
She had the kind of God-understanding from Samuel that she’d been looking for, and yet she was even more empty-handed. Beforehand, she had frustration mingled with the hope that he’d finally and fully understand. Now he saw clearly, but he had shut the door on her talking to him like a trusted friend.
Why?
She’d spent most of her life being isolated in one form or another from those she shared a home with. Apparently life in Maine was going to have a lot of similarities to her former life in Pennsylvania.
She hadn’t banked on that.
Landon put his cell phone into his pocket. Rhoda’s brother had to be very skilled at finding phones to call from. It was the third update from Steven this morning, and each call had come from a different number.
Landon got into his truck, glad the calls gave him an excuse to see Leah this morning. Even before he overheard part of the argument between her and Michael, he’d thought she was spunky and cute. His attraction to her surprised him, because girls in Amish clothing with their hair pulled back just didn’t appeal to him. Well, aside from the friendship he had with Rhoda. But once he learned Leah intended to leave the Amish when the time was right, his reservations melted. About half of them anyway.
Leah wouldn’t turn eighteen until January, so she was four years younger. That rattled him a bit. But he knew from his time around Rhoda’s family that the Amish had no issue with a four-year age difference, or even more, between a man and woman. Amish girls saw life differently than the non-Amish ones did. The idea of getting married at eighteen, nineteen, or twenty was the norm. But he wasn’t considering marriage or even dating—yet.
He realized that Leah’s family and even Rhoda might take issue with him, as a non-Amish guy, wanting to get close to Leah. But first things first. Was Leah interested in hanging out? If she wasn’t, none of his other questions mattered.
He pulled up in front of the house. Was it going to be called the King home or the Byler home? The new place needed a name. Since the little town was named Orchard Bend, maybe Orchard Bend Farm was a good name for it.
He parked his truck and strode across the yard, crunching dead leaves as he went. Sunlight stretched across the dewy grass. He saw no one, and the front door was closed. He knocked and waited.
Leah opened it, a grin welcoming him. “If you can’t get here on time, get here when you can. Come on in.”
“Denki.” He hoped he had the correct accent for the simple thank-you. He tipped his cap. “I think I will.”
She turned and went toward the kitchen.
He followed her. “I wasn’t sure what time everyone would be up.”
“You’re about two hours late for that.”
She picked up an unopened box and tapped another one with the toe of her shoe. He grabbed the second box.
“You’ve been up since six?”
“Best I can figure. We’ve yet to find a clock. And from now on, don’t knock. I had to stop what I was doing to answer the door.”
“Those are extremely bold instructions. What if the others don’t feel the same way?”
Leah stepped into the kitchen, and three other adults glanced his way—Rhoda, Samuel, and Phoebe—all of them standing and eating toast and boiled eggs.
Leah put a box on the counter. “Anyone here mind if Landon comes and goes without knocking?”
Samuel picked up his mug. “It is a strange feeling, isn’t it?” He took a sip of his coffee. “Last night I wasn’t sure whether to knock, enter, or sleep on the porch.”
“He went with a fourth option,” Rhoda said.
Samuel’s brows knit. “I did?”
“Ya.” Rhoda glanced at Landon and rolled her eyes. “Scaring me half to death.”
; A slight grimace shadowed Samuel’s face before he set his mug on the counter. “That doesn’t count as a fourth option. Your reaction was a result of my second choice, which was to enter.”
“It counts.” Rhoda tossed pieces of toast and eggs into a bowl of what looked like scraps for her compost pile.
Landon put down the box. “I heard from Steven. He sends his love to Phoebe.”
Phoebe smiled, her cheeks pinking. “Denki.”
“He said to assure you that he’ll be here as soon as he can. The man who was supposed to meet him with the cattle trailers hasn’t shown up yet. They had to move the livestock to a holding place, but Steven’s talked to the man, and despite the delays, he expects to be here by nightfall with the livestock and the carriages.”
“Thanks, Landon.” Samuel put his plate in the sink. “It helps to have someone with a cell phone.”
“Glad to help.”
“No news from the moving van driver?” Samuel asked.
“Not yet. And none from Jacob.”
Rhoda didn’t bat an eye, but Landon knew that Jacob’s sudden departure weighed heavy.
She offered him a smile. “Care for some breakfast?”
“I’ve eaten. How’d you fix boiled eggs and toast if there’s no electricity and no gas?”
Leah gestured toward the fireplace. “We used the pot hanging on one of the cranes, added water, and used the eggs Samuel brought.”
“Interesting.” Landon opened a box of kitchen items. “I was going to see if anyone wanted to go to Granny’s for breakfast, but I guess not.”
“That’s really nice.” Rhoda set her plate in the sink. “But we’ve got too much to do. Your granny brought us potato-leek soup with a loaf of sourdough bread for dinner last night. It was so delicious. We put it on ice, and we’ll have that for lunch. Maybe we’ll have enough for dinner too.”
Samuel retrieved a pad and pen from a nearby box. “Could I use your phone? We need gas for the propane tank, a phone installed, and—”
“Wait.” Rhoda glanced around the room. “I just now realized we don’t have a phone shanty.”
“I figure we’ll put it in the barn, maybe build an office, sort of like what we have at Kings’ Orchard. But we need a phone before we can do all that.”
The Winnowing Season Page 11
