The Winnowing Season

by Cindy Woodsmall

  “Rhoda vouched for you before Samuel would let an Englischer work this closely with his family. If either of them found out you and I were hanging out, one of us would be fired. Even if they don’t mind, which I’m sure they do, they can’t afford for the Amish community to think they’re not being careful with boundaries. It’d bring trouble for both of them.”

  “And since you’re a King and live here, I’d be the one they cut off.”

  “Rhoda’s more dedicated to you than that. They might ship me back to Pennsylvania and find someone to replace me.”

  “It’d take at least two women to replace you.”

  “What a sweet thing to say.”

  “Actually, I was daydreaming about your replacements, wondering if I should aim to get you into trouble. Maybe those girls would be quicker to accept my invitation.”

  She picked up the tongs and popped them at him. “I have ways of inflicting pain.”

  “Beautiful women always do.”

  Beautiful? Was he nuts or simply teasing? Either way, she liked that they could talk like this. Almost as much as she liked the idea of getting away for a bit to explore and learn. She’d been reading adventure novels for years. It was time to experience a few. There was just one question.

  Could they do it without getting caught?

  SEVENTEEN

  Rhoda’s eyes opened. The stillness of night filled her small room. Her body begged her to roll over and snuggle under the warm covers. But through the wavy glass of her bedroom window she saw silhouettes of apple trees, their leaves and branches being pushed to and fro in the wind. The sight of acres of fruit trees stirred her.

  Hope and determination pumped into her veins as surely as her morning coffee delivered caffeine. She pushed off the blankets, dressed, and with her lace-up black boots in hand, she tiptoed down the creaking stairs.

  An aroma of lilacs still clung to the air drifting from the hall bathroom. Last night the women had taken turns lugging hot water to the Victorian claw-foot bathtub, then each had soaked in bath salts. The phone company had installed a phone in the barn, but the man who was supposed to fill the propane tank had yet to arrive. Whatever the holdup was, Samuel intended to get it straightened out today—even if he had to camp out at the gas company’s office to do so.

  But last night Phoebe, Leah, and Rhoda weren’t settling for one more sponge or shallow bath. It had taken a good bit of time and effort to heat the water over the open fire and make baths.

  Afterward they sat in the living room in their nightgowns and robes, drying their freshly washed hair, toasting marshmallows, and talking as if they were sisters. The conversation covered men, children, dry skin, the best hairnets, and upcoming meals. No men were allowed, which seemed to suit the menfolk fine as they sat around the kitchen table discussing who knows what. The small, mismatched group showed a few signs of bonding like a family.

  If they were going to live in the same home through a Maine winter, they needed love and respect to grow fast and flavorful—like herbs in a spring garden. Rhoda and Samuel seemed to be the only ones with an undercurrent of friction between them, which she still didn’t understand. At least he was trying to be agreeable these days. That was enough.

  She detected another aroma mixing with the fading bath salts. Coffee.

  Rhoda opened the swinging door to the kitchen. Samuel had ledgers open and a newspaper sprawled out next to the legal pad he used for note taking throughout the day. A kerosene lantern glowed near him, and the fireplace added a soft radiance to the room.

  He looked up, his eyes resting on her for a long moment before he nodded once and returned his focus to the ledger.

  She walked into the room, deepening her voice, mimicking his as best she could. “Good morning, Rhoda. It’s about time you got up. I was sure you were going to sleep the day away.”

  He raised an eyebrow, but she saw a smile in his eyes despite his expressionless face.

  She sat and pulled on her boots. “You do know this kind of silence is what makes me talk to myself, right?”

  His eyes grew wide, concern flashing through them. “But … you … I …”

  She laughed. “I’m kidding.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Not funny.” He got up and took two mugs out of the cabinet. Using a potholder, he lifted the metal coffee maker off its crane and poured a cup for each of them.

  “Kumm on. It was a little funny.”

  Again he said nothing.

  Apparently he meant it when he’d said she had Jacob to talk to. Why?

  Still, it seemed he hadn’t told Jacob about her hearing music or talking to herself. Despite Samuel’s rough edges, he had strength of character. The problem was she never knew which Samuel was going to show up—the loyal one with amazing inner strength or the difficult one who thought he knew what was best for everyone else.

  He set the cup of steaming coffee in front of her and slid the cream, sugar, and a spoon her way.

  “Denki.” She poured some cream into her coffee to cool it. A small stack of opened envelopes lay on the table near her, and she picked them up. “Bills already?”

  “No. Mostly it’s papers from the bank about the mortgage.”

  While flipping through the stack, she discovered a colorful brochure with the words “Magical Mulch Compost seminar in Unity, Maine.”

  “Did you see this?” She held it up for him.

  He glanced up. “Ya.”

  She opened it and continued reading. The student center at the local college held regular seminars. Every program was centered on one thing: organic farming.

  “Samuel,”—she extended her arm toward him and tapped the table—“listen to this. ‘Come learn about the power of organic mulch, the best ways to create it, and the perfect time to spread it for your organic crop.’ ” She looked up. “It starts at nine, ends at four, and says to bring a sack lunch.”

  “Those things are designed for novices. I’m sure we know more than the teacher will cover in those few hours.”

  “But it’s about this soil. We don’t know anything about growing crops in Maine.”

  Samuel held out his hand for the brochure and studied it for a minute. Then he tucked it under his legal pad. “The next one takes place tomorrow.” He flipped through the pages on the legal pad. “There are no spare moments for any of us. That storm is supposed to make landfall Sunday night.”

  “I hear you, but still, what we learn there could be more valuable than anything else we could do tomorrow.”

  “I think it’s best if we keep to ourselves. We can read up on anything we need to know. There are a few helpful articles in the paper about orchards and how to tend to them this time of year.”

  “Kumm on, Samuel.”

  The kitchen door swung open, and Jacob stumbled in, rubbing his eyes. “See”—he thrust both hands toward Rhoda—“this is how a morning should start, looking at the best this world has to offer.”

  She grinned. “Says the man who can’t open his eyes.”

  Samuel chuckled. Finally. The man could be so serious minded at times.

  Jacob walked over to her, tilted her chin up, and planted a kiss on her forehead. “Morning.” He sat next to her and took her coffee. “Did you sleep?” He stole a few sips and passed the cup back to her.

  “I did.”

  He put her palm to his and intertwined his fingers before kissing her hand. “You smell nice.”

  Samuel cleared his throat. “I thought we agreed to spread the manure in the greenhouses.”

  “Listen to him.” Jacob held her gaze. “Is he saying I’m lying?”

  Samuel popped his knuckles. “He’s saying the first item on your list today is building long, tall rows for compost in the fourth greenhouse.”

  Jacob frowned playfully, still focused on Rhoda. “Listen to him making up stories. He calls me a liar and then changes the subject.”

  “That’s because he only knows one subject—work—so it’s all he can talk about.”

/>   Jacob leaned back in his chair. “Well, I am a man with many interests. I can name the seven most important: love, Rhoda, family, Rhoda, work, Rhoda, and Rhoda.”

  “You forgot God,” Rhoda said.

  A shadow crossed his features. “I never forget God. I just don’t add Him to any list.”

  “Ah.” She clicked her tongue. “Sounds to me like your girlfriend has multiple personality disorder.”

  Samuel straightened the newspaper and stared intently at it. “And she uses the same name for each personality so she doesn’t confuse the man, who is apparently a genius on all of the most important matters.”

  Jacob folded his arms, pretending offense. Rhoda slid her coffee his way and winked.

  He grinned. “So my brilliance and chore list aside, did I hear you complaining to Samuel when I came in?”

  “I’m awake, aren’t I?” Samuel put the newspaper on the table. “Then she’s complaining at me.”

  Rhoda knew he was teasing, but she couldn’t stop herself from objecting. “That’s not fair, and you know it.”

  Samuel and Jacob looked at each other, then poked out their bottom lips. “That’s not fair,” they chorused in high-pitched voices.

  Jacob chuckled. “Sorry. We used to do that to Leah all the time.”

  “No wonder I’m emotionally scarred.” Leah stood yawning in the doorway. “Coffee. Someone give me coffee.”

  Jacob offered her Rhoda’s cup.

  Leah shook her head. “I’ll get my own.”

  Rhoda snapped her fingers at Samuel and held out the palm of her hand. He pulled the brochure from its hiding place and put it in her hand. She passed it to Jacob.

  He looked through it. “So?”

  “I think we should go. Of course, Samuel doesn’t agree.”

  With his pen in hand, Samuel motioned their way. “We have too much going on this weekend to take in a seminar. We shouldn’t rely on anyone outside our community for things we can do on our own. And any information we need about Maine soil and crops can be found in books.”

  Rhoda huffed. “But we need as much information as possible as quickly as possible. This is the perfect opportunity.” She nudged Jacob’s arm. “Tell him you agree.”

  “I agree.”

  “Way to hang tough, Jacob.” Samuel huffed. “When I had concerns about you two getting involved with each other, it never occurred to me you might unite against me. I was afraid you’d argue and cause conflict among the group.”

  “Nah.” Leah took a seat, cradling the mug of warm coffee. “Jacob can get along with anyone.”

  Rhoda chuckled. “Meaning I can’t?”

  “Wait.” Leah blinked. “No. I didn’t mean—”

  “It should be what you meant.” Samuel tilted his head, a hint of amusement radiating from his eyes. “Rhoda, if the shoe fits—”

  “It doesn’t.” Rhoda pointed at him, narrowing her eyes. This was how they began most mornings after Jacob entered the room—talking business, hammering out differences, and teasing each other before they scattered to the four winds to work. It was as if Samuel’s love for his brother caused him to relax around Rhoda as well. “And just who does that shoe belong to that you speak of?”

  Jacob flipped through the brochure. “Is that the shoe that’s nailed to the wall in the barn?”

  Rhoda laughed. “Is there really a shoe nailed to the barn wall?”

  “Ya, there is. I bet the story behind it is an interesting one.”

  “Can we get it down and nail Samuel to the wall?” Leah grinned.

  Rhoda lifted her hand. “I vote ya.”

  “Of course you do.” Samuel rocked back in his chair. “Because it makes so much more sense for me to be nailed to a wall in the barn than it does for you to stay here tomorrow and work instead of going to a seminar that will teach you nothing you don’t already know.”

  Steven walked into the room. “No matter what time I set my internal clock to get up, you people get up earlier.”

  “Get up to speed.” Rhoda held out the brochure. “This is the topic.”

  Steven moved to a chair closest to the kerosene lantern and read it. “You think you need what’s being taught?”

  “I won’t know for sure until it’s over.”

  Steven reread it. Phoebe walked in, fetched a mug from the cabinet, and poured coffee into it. She set the mug in front of her husband.

  Steven didn’t look up. “Denki.”

  Phoebe patted his shoulder and went to the refrigerator. She wasn’t a morning person, but she was in charge of breakfasts anyway. And suppers. The three women pitched in for the big meal of the day—dinner—which took place at midday now.

  “Let’s put it to a vote.” Rhoda lifted her arm. “All in favor of me and someone going to a seminar on magical Maine mulch, raise your hands.”

  Jacob and Leah held up a finger.

  Samuel sighed. “I’m really unsure about this idea.”

  “Then you don’t have to be the someone, do you?” Jacob winked at Rhoda.

  “It can’t be you either, little brother.” Samuel ripped a sheet of paper off the legal pad. “Here’s what you need to accomplish before the storm hits. The latest weather report says to expect high winds and lots of rain, starting Sunday night.”

  Steven laid the brochure on the table. “I see Samuel’s point, and I tend to lean toward his opinions in most things concerning this settlement, but”—he poured sugar and cream into his coffee and stirred it—“we have to keep our primary goal in mind. Being as independent from the Englisch as our forefathers were and avoiding anything that appears to be higher education are very important, but they’re also secondary issues. We succeed or fail based on the production of next year’s crop. If Rhoda feels she may learn something valuable from that seminar, it could be a mistake not to let her go.”

  Samuel shrugged. “Okay. Then it should be Rhoda and Landon. He has to drive her anyway, and everyone else is needed around here.”

  Rhoda let herself pout a little. “But Landon could drop off Jacob and me and return here to help out.”

  Jacob nodded. “I like that plan.”

  “I’m sure.” Samuel tapped the legal pad. “But we need to have our first church service this Sunday. That means all work stops Saturday night from this point forward in this settlement. Landon is a good worker, but with a possible Sunday night storm, and the roof needing repairs, we can’t spare you, Jacob. And with the handicap of no stove, it takes at least two women to keep the meals going, so Leah can’t go either.”

  “I agree with everything Samuel said.” Steven stretched his back. “But, please, Rhoda, promise that if you feel or sense anything, I mean any little thing, you will keep it to yourself.” He stared at her. “We have a clean slate here. Do you understand?”

  Embarrassment crept up her back and stung her face. Did her brother have to say that in front of everyone? No one understood more than she did. She couldn’t stop what she heard, saw, or felt. But he was right. She had to control her reaction to those things.

  “Agreed.”

  EIGHTEEN

  “Ten minutes early.” Landon pulled into a parking space in front of the brick building and turned off the engine. “You nervous?”

  “About attending a class? No way. About sticking my foot in my mouth and causing trouble? A little. But this may be the most exciting thing I’ve ever done.” Rhoda grabbed her notepad and pen before she gestured at the two lunchpails. “We’re leaving them here?”

  “For now.” Landon came around the vehicle and walked beside her as they crossed the parking lot. “Some people might consider attending a class on a college campus a bit intimidating.”

  “Say what you mean, Landon. You’re thinking that because I only have an eighth-grade education and I attended a one-room schoolhouse, I’m quaking in my little black boots.”

  He grinned, finding her comfortableness with who she was refreshing. “Yep.” He opened the double-wide glass doors.

 
; Rhoda went inside first. “Intimidating is when a man of God who has a lot of authority over your family thinks you’re pure evil and lets his nephew set out to prove it. This will be fun. Just watch.”

  “Okay. If you say so.”

  “Just don’t let me do anything that could rile Steven or Samuel, okay?”

  “You can count on it. But just so you know now, if anyone quizzes me during this thing, I’m pointing to you to give the answer.”

  “If you don’t know an answer, say so. Big deal. You think anyone in that classroom has ever gone through one day when they knew all the answers to whatever came up?”

  “You’re feeling mighty good about things since you moved to Maine and Jacob got here, aren’t you?”

  “A few things are nagging at me, but overall, I’ve never felt better in my life. Ever.”

  Landon was glad he had a hand in getting Rhoda out of Morgansville. If anyone had seen her the day Emma died, as he had, or the excruciating grief and guilt she experienced afterward and didn’t have a heart of compassion for her, that person wasn’t human.

  But she didn’t know how that time had also changed him from a happy-go-lucky loner to a man who connected with the realities of life and with a friend who mattered. He still didn’t know why the two of them united as they did—the determined one and the drifter. He just hoped the Kings and the partnership were as good to her as she deserved.

  They found the classroom and took their seats. The class hadn’t started yet. Landon noticed that some of the others in the classroom were his age, some were his parents’ age. Several smiled and some came over and introduced themselves.

  Rhoda shook hands and answered questions, seemingly unbothered by their curiosity and their surprise that a group of Amish had moved into the area. When people learned she was working to restore the abandoned apple orchard they were all familiar with, she became almost like a hero to them. That seemed to catch her off guard.

  No doubt, Landon and Rhoda were causing quite a stir.

  The class began, and throughout the session Rhoda peppered the instructors with questions. When they broke for lunch, rather than stay in the truck throughout the lunch break, she mingled and chatted with the people. One woman wanted to monopolize every free minute Rhoda had. She was a blogger for Maine Organic Apple Orchards and US Organic Apple Orchards, two different blogs, but each with impressive traffic. Landon liked Rhoda’s getting time with the blogger. The woman said she knew a Wall Street Journal writer who was working on an article on the pros and cons of organic farming. She wondered if her colleague might be interested in interviewing Rhoda about the abandoned apple orchard. Connections like that could turn into good advertising for the orchard and canning business.