The Winnowing Season

by Cindy Woodsmall

  “I believe in the Amish culture with all that is in me. I want Leah to believe in it too. I have since the day I met her. Because of that, I can’t be easygoing or turn a blind eye where you and Leah are concerned. I … I’m sorry.”

  “I know how you feel about the Amish culture, and as best as I remember, I’ve never once hinted you should leave it. I supported your decision to live this way. Leah needs to decide for herself, just like you did.”

  “She’s too young and too impressionable, and you make the idea of leaving look too easy and too fun.” Rhoda shook her head, sighing. “I’m sorry to have to be this way.”

  “Yeah, me too.” He walked off, crushing some snow with each step. He thought he heard Rhoda say something, but it was too soft for him to understand. When he turned his head to tell her to speak up, he lost his balance when one of his feet sank deeper into the snow than he expected. He tumbled forward, boxes flying out of his hands as he fell face-first into the snow. The cold ice nipped at his unshaven face, melting against his flushed skin and a bleeding lip. He stood up and wiped away the blood. His mouth must have hit a rock or something.

  “Are you all right?” Rhoda set down her box and hurried to him.

  “The fall is nothing, Rhodes. It’s the push I got from you that really stings. I can’t believe you’re the one who insists I back off your Amish territory.” He gestured toward the road. “She invited me as a friend. You do remember what friends are, right?”

  Hurt reflected in her eyes, and yet her resolve didn’t budge.

  He set the box upright. “Just let me get my work done.” He opened the box to see if anything was broken.

  “Landon, I’m sorry.”

  He shrugged. “It’s my own fault for being a klutz.”

  He knew she wasn’t referring to his fall, but he was done trying to reason with her.

  And he had work to do.

  Rhoda stood in a greenhouse and stared at the empty workbenches. She had never been so lost. The police had spent a month investigating her, and she had been neither cleared nor charged. Samuel and Steven believed that having a senator’s daughter involved had complicated matters for the police and slowed the whole process. Rhoda didn’t know, but she’d been stripped of nearly every potted herb, and the investigators had turned her bedroom upside down—twice.

  Why did the police continue to confiscate her stuff? She knew the reality—they were searching for evidence. Officer Smyth said the police weren’t usually overzealous with incidences of marijuana, but Senator Allen’s wife continued to put pressure on them, as if she considered Rhoda a drug dealer. The woman was being absurd. What was her problem anyway? And why weren’t the police finding the answers they needed to clear up this matter? It didn’t make sense. Was she going to be cleared of these accusations or not?

  Her thoughts were interrupted when the greenhouse door opened and Steven announced, “Hey, Sis. It’s time for supper.”

  She wasn’t hungry, but she’d play along. Her goal was to pretend she was doing better than she was. “Sounds good. What’s Phoebe fixed this time?”

  “Chicken spaghetti.”

  He moved to a bench and ran his hands over the vacant top. “You talked to Daed today?”

  She imagined checking on her was the real reason Steven was here. Otherwise, he would have used the walkie-talkie to call her to supper. “Of course.”

  “He’s worried. He doesn’t understand why you won’t let him or Mamm come up. I can’t say I understand it either. Is it because Jacob isn’t here, and you don’t want them to know?”

  That was part of it, maybe most of it. “I’m fine, Steven. For them to come all this way in the dead of winter makes no sense.” But she felt so vacant without Jacob or her Daed here.

  The thing was, her Daed was better off not seeing her now. If he wasn’t here, it was easier to convince him she was sailing through this current upheaval.

  “Rhoda.” Phoebe’s voice came through the walkie-talkie. “Officer Smyth is here and would like to speak to you.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  “He’d like to see you without the Kinner.”

  Rhoda drew a breath. It couldn’t be good news if he didn’t want the children underfoot. “I’m in the third greenhouse.”

  “Denki.”

  Steven smiled, but it looked fake. “Where’s Samuel?”

  “Who knows? Somewhere on the farm, trying to make up for Jacob not being here.” She cleared her throat. “Or at least using that as an excuse to avoid me.”

  Steven put a hand on her arm. She could feel his compassion even through her thick wool coat. “He’s under as much stress as you are.”

  Rhoda didn’t doubt that, but a little less avoidance and a little more friendliness would be lifesaving about now. “Why do you suppose chaos shadows me like a hungry dog?”

  “If I didn’t know you like I do, I’d assume you were Jonah and God was determined you would do as He’s asked.” Steven pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his nose. “Are you running from something He’s asked you to do?”

  She scoffed. “We’ve always lived in the same house. You know the answer. I’ve been running since I was four or five years old. And Daed and you and everyone else watches and pleads with me to go faster.”

  He studied her. “We’re asking you to run from God?”

  “From the ability to know an event before it happens or to know a secret after it’s been buried.”

  “But—”

  The door opened, and Officer Smyth stepped inside. “Rhoda,”—he removed his cap—“I’m sorry, but we have some bad news. This doesn’t mean you’re under arrest, but …” He passed her a stack of folded papers.

  “What’s this?” She opened them.

  “Reports on what was found in two of the pots we removed from your greenhouse.”

  She skimmed it. It seemed every item they had cleared from her greenhouses had been listed and its scientific name given. “I hardly recognize any of these.”

  “The word will be cannabis. Two stashes were found, totaling two ounces, and some paraphernalia. That means if you’re charged, it won’t be a slap on the wrist. It’ll fall under the intent to distribute. That will mean jail time if we …” He rested his hand on his night stick. “Did you get a lawyer?”

  She looked at her brother. As the spiritual head of the new settlement, he had spoken to their bishop in Morgansville and to Samuel’s bishop. They all had agreed. They wanted her to trust God with the outcome and not rely on man. She shook her head. “So what happens next?”

  “A district attorney is involved now, and since you need a lawyer, you will be assigned a public defender. There are fingerprints on the plastic sandwich bags that were found inside the pots. We’ll need you to come to the station to be fingerprinted. But there’s something fishy about all this.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I can’t say anything further, and since this began, I’ve said more to you than I should have, but the evidence is mounting against you. You need a good lawyer, a better one than an overworked public defender.” He tilted his head. “A reporter for the local news station is reading that report as we speak. It’s going to get bumpier and more intrusive for a while, probably starting tomorrow.”

  “Okay, thank you.” She shook his hand.

  Steven rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe we should start looking for a lawyer after all.”

  “Ya, that way I can financially bankrupt the orchard before we get a chance to harvest a single apple.”

  “So what do we do?”

  “I don’t know. I need time to think.” She went outside. “Tell Phoebe not to hold supper. I’m going for a walk—a really long one.”

  Without waiting for him to approve or disapprove, she took off through the snow. A series of calamities. That’s what her life was. But why?

  Was she bad luck, as Samuel’s Daed and so many others thought? Or were her efforts to suppress and ignore her intui
tions displeasing to God? Or was it as the book of James says—a time to count it all joy whenever you face temptations of many kinds, because that is the testing of your faith and it produces patience?

  She walked farther into the woods. Daylight faded for only a few minutes before it was pitch dark. The temperature dropped. It had to be in the teens. But she didn’t have an answer yet, and she wasn’t turning back, so she continued on, crying out to God.

  Time became unimportant. The more she walked, the more she felt as if she was drawing closer to God. The wind rustled through the barren trees, and a scripture came to her: “Blessed is the man that endureth temptation: for when he is tried, he shall receive the crown of life.” She knew that a different version of that passage used the words “perseveres under trial.”

  Peace warmed her. She didn’t have any answers to her questions, but she knew that God was on her side. He didn’t condemn her for her failings. He had covered every sin through Christ, and He loved her for her desire to try to get it right, whatever it was throughout life—like a Daed helping his child learn to read the signs and symbols known as letters and words, which gave meaning to everything mankind understood.

  Her insides still trembled at what might lie ahead, but if God was for her, who could be against her?

  She’d never had such peace before, and yet her nerves were almost as raw as they were before. She had what she’d come looking for—strength. It was time to go home. But as she looked around, she realized she had no idea how to get home.

  As she walked, she grasped that she was going in circles. Unable to find the edge of the woods, a very unwelcome frustration roiled through her—was Jacob ever going to be here when she needed him?

  She drew a deep breath, calming her nerves. A moment later she allowed herself to sense which direction to go in. It didn’t take her too long to realize she wasn’t entering familiar territory. Wherever she was headed, it wasn’t quite the right direction. But it was the leading she had, and she stuck with it.

  Her feet ached from the cold as each step surrounded her ankles in snow. How long had she been walking toward the leading? Too tired to keep moving, she sat. Snow covered most of her, and she shivered.

  You can’t stay here. You’ll freeze.

  But she couldn’t make herself get up.

  Did she hear someone calling her name? No. It was her imagination, and she closed her eyes. Maybe if she rested for a few minutes. She nodded off, but a sound woke her.

  “Rho-da!”

  Samuel?

  Had she dreamed he’d called to her? She blinked, willing herself to fully wake. She heard her name again, and chills ran through her body, but this time it had nothing to do with being cold. He had come for her. She struggled to get up and walk toward the calling. Every so often she had to pause to hear anything over the crunching of snow. She heard it again.

  “Rho-da!”

  Despite his hard shell and withdrawal at every turn, he was always here for her. Always.

  “Here. I’m here!” She stumbled in that direction and soon saw the beam of a high-powered flashlight. Where was he, and where did he get such a thing?

  “Rho-da!”

  “Here! I’m here!”

  The light swung her way, and she caught the silhouette of a horse. He slid off it and ran toward her. “You should know better!”

  She hurried to him.

  “What on earth were you think—”

  Breathless, she threw her arms around his neck.

  He held her tight. “I knew I could find you.” He took a deep breath, holding her as if he would never let go, but then he backed away. “That was a ridiculous thing you did.” He put his arm under hers, lifting some of her weight as they headed back to the horse. “You are not to enter these woods alone again.”

  She didn’t care if he fussed. He’d come for her … and brought her light to see by and strength to lean on.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  Samuel stood in the yard, stacking wood into the crook of his arm at the pace of a slug. Three nights ago he’d had an uneasy feeling about Rhoda, so he’d done something he’d never done before—he had tapped on her bedroom door. It’d been almost midnight, and when she didn’t answer, he’d opened it, expecting to see her asleep.

  She wasn’t there, and it had sent shock waves of fear through him.

  Hours earlier, Steven had said that Rhoda had gone for a walk. When Samuel found her bedroom empty, he rushed through the house and then the greenhouses, looking for her, fear mounting. He resisted the urge to panic and didn’t call Landon or knock on Steven’s door. Instead, he bridled his horse and went to the Cranfords’ home. But they hadn’t seen her. He borrowed a flashlight from them and set out to find her, praying as he’d never prayed before. It wasn’t his nature to panic easily, but if he hadn’t found her soon, he was going to call the police and also ask every neighbor to help look for her.

  Could she have survived a night in the woods with the temperature dipping into the low teens?

  If she had died, where would all his determination to stay away from her have gotten him?

  Grief-stricken for life—that’s where.

  Samuel went up the porch steps, stomped snow off his boots, and carried the wood inside to the kitchen.

  Rhoda stood at the sink, washing dishes, bathed in soft light from the fireplace and a gas pole light.

  He put the pieces into the woodbin as slowly as he had collected them. What could he say to her to help? “I think daylight is about three hours long lately.” That’s it, Samuel. Act like everything is normal. That ought to help her. His sarcasm rang inside his head, but the truth was he didn’t know what else to do.

  “Seems like.” Her voice was distant, and he wasn’t sure she had even heard him.

  Why would he, someone who rarely felt an inkling from God to do anything, know that he needed to check on her?

  But she was safe now, without the need to alert the police and draw even more attention to the Orchard Bend Amish. The question that lingered was how should he handle himself around her.

  When he’d first realized he loved her, he pushed her away through rudeness and arguing. That didn’t work out, so his next move had been to stuff his feelings down deep and avoid her. Last night that could have cost her life. So now what?

  Should he continue trying to protect the relationship between Rhoda and Jacob? Didn’t his brother need to do that for himself? But no-o-o. He was with Sandra. It was ridiculous.

  On the other hand, Jacob had good reason to be gone this time—to protect Rhoda’s reputation during the police investigation.

  Samuel’s defenses had taken numerous hits, but he had to maintain his loyalty to Jacob. If he continued cautiously, he was confident this season would be behind them soon enough. Rhoda would be cleared. Jacob would come home. All Samuel had to do was stand firm against every temptation.

  He finished unloading the wood into the bin and added a couple of sticks to the fire. He grabbed the poker and stoked the flames. “I didn’t want to say anything in front of the others, but I was surprised when Landon didn’t stay for that belated Valentine’s Day meal. I think Phoebe was disappointed. She’s quite the cook, and tonight was every bit the feast that the Thanksgiving and Christmas meals were.”

  “Ya.” Rhoda had been withdrawn and too quiet since returning from being fingerprinted at the police station.

  Samuel still wanted to keep some distance between Rhoda and him, so he hadn’t gone with her to the police station. Landon had taken her and stayed by her side throughout, but she had returned home sapped of all energy. Samuel didn’t know why it’d knocked the air out of her.

  He wished they would get the results of those tests back quickly—tomorrow! But it would probably be weeks from now. Orchard Bend didn’t have the equipment to run those tests, so it was being sent elsewhere … and probably sitting around, waiting its turn.

  He wondered how well Jacob was coping. The newspapers had something almost wee
kly about the investigation. According to Landon, the local news stations were covering it too.

  Samuel moved to the woodbin and brushed off dirt and debris from his jacket before he removed it and rolled up his shirt sleeves. He intended to help with the dishes unless she ran him off.

  Nicole had come by to check on them today while Rhoda was gone, and Samuel talked with her for a bit before he asked her not to drop by for a while. He wasn’t completely sure why he had asked that, but they were done with their work, and he wanted to close ranks around Rhoda, to make this time as easy on her as he could. If Rhoda liked Nicole, he wouldn’t have asked her to stop coming. But she didn’t. How did he know that? How did he know she was missing three nights ago?

  If Rhoda had ever needed Jacob, it was now. The burdens on her were heavy, and Jacob had a way of making them lighter. Something Samuel couldn’t do even if he dared to try.

  Despite the newspaper articles on the saga, Rhoda was left alone, as if the townsfolk and the neighbors knew something was strange about this whole mess. A few naysayers made ugly remarks about the Amish in general and wanted the law to prosecute her just because she was Amish. Some people had hate for anyone and everyone. He’d never understand that. Officer Smyth said everyone on the police force and in the district attorney’s office was leery about arresting an Amish woman who seemed as clean-cut as anyone they’d ever seen. The evidence to arrest her just wasn’t there, and yet it could be if they kept digging.

  How was that possible?

  If she felt free to ask her Daed to come for a visit, it would bring much-needed comfort and support, but she said he was too honest to keep quiet about Jacob. So when she talked to her Daed on the phone, she assured him that she was fine and that he needed to wait until spring to visit.

  He moved in closer to the sink. “I’m glad we were along for the ride on Phoebe’s belated Valentine’s Day dinner.” He held out his hands. “May I?”

  She took a step back while he rinsed his hands in the empty side of the dual sink.

  After the Valentine’s Day meal, Rhoda had insisted Phoebe and Leah take the rest of the night off. Leah was thrilled because she had almost finished reading one of her books. Phoebe and Steven were upstairs in their suite, enjoying some quiet time.