A Season for Tending: Book One in the Amish Vines and Orchards Series

by Cindy Woodsmall

  SIXTEEN

  Between Sundays used to be Leah’s favorite day of the week. No church and minimal chores. She could sleep late and then go to the hayloft to read for hours without anyone demanding much from her. But today she’d never been more miserable.

  Her family sat around the breakfast table, chatting about everything, but she couldn’t hear any of them.

  Mamm reached over and laid her hand on Leah’s arm. “I fixed your favorite breakfast, and you’ve hardly touched it. What is going on with you?”

  “Nothing.” Leah pulled away from her Mamm. Like everything else in her life right now, her response was a lie. How could she tell anyone, especially her Mamm, that she might be pregnant, that with every passing day the increased possibility made her so nervous she couldn’t eat or sleep?

  “I don’t believe you.” Mamm placed the back of her fingers on Leah’s forehead. “Are you still feeling poorly?”

  “Only a little.”

  “That’s not true, Mamm,” Katie said. “I needed to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, and she was in there again, throwing up. I think she’s scared of going to a doctor, but she needs to.”

  “No, I don’t. It’s just a bug of some sort.” Leah’s heart raced with fear. “It’s only been a week.”

  “You’re sure that’s all it is?” Concern filled Mamm’s eyes.

  “I’m positive.” Leah fought to keep tears from her eyes and a tremble from her voice. “May I be excused now?”

  Jacob studied her as if he were able to read her thoughts. But even if he could, he had no room to question her. He had his own secrets, a past that was open to no one.

  Daed stopped talking to Samuel long enough to give a nod.

  Leah stood. “I’m going to my reading spot, and since I’m not feeling well, it’d be really nice if no one needed me for the rest of the day.” She took her plate to the garbage can and dumped the contents.

  “Leah,” Mamm called.

  Leah put her plate in the sink and turned.

  “If you’re not better by Tuesday, I’m calling the doctor.”

  Leah’s stomach twisted with anxiety, but she nodded and left the house. Biting back tears, she stormed across the yard to the barn. The idea of being pregnant had her so nervous that her stomach ached. Maybe that’s all it was. Maybe.

  She pulled her skirt out of the way and climbed up to the haymow, where she kept her stash of books. She needed to talk to Michael, to tell him what was happening. The only time she’d caught a glimpse of him since the party was at church last Sunday.

  Her mind too cluttered to read, she moved to the open hayloft door and sat.

  For months Michael had been kind, inviting her to go everywhere with him. When she attended her first party, it’d been more fun than she’d ever imagined. They laughed and talked and drank but felt intoxicated with each other.

  How had she landed here: fearing pregnancy and not talking to Michael in weeks? Images of his holding her, being so gentle and sweet, tore at her heart. Memories she’d once cherished—of their first time to their last time—now cut deep. She’d believed he loved her, and she’d trusted him. But as suddenly as his attention came her way, it had disappeared.

  Had he only pretended to love her?

  Maybe he was a little like Samuel. During apple-picking season, her brother went weeks without seeing Catherine, sometimes even longer. It didn’t bother Samuel to have those spells, even though he cared deeply for Catherine. Still, Samuel would never treat Catherine with a hint of disrespect, let alone do what Michael had done to Leah. Miss Thin Hips had caught Michael’s eye nine days ago, so he should be over her by now. Perhaps he was simply shy about coming to apologize for being so mean.

  Leah had to see him. He had to know about her fears. Her stomach churned, aching with nausea and discomfort.

  If she was pregnant, surely he’d marry her—after he got over the shock. They couldn’t leave the Amish. They’d need their financial support. Since they weren’t members of the faith, they’d both have to join the church before they could be wed. And that would be embarrassing, because the church leaders would have to hold special sessions just for them. They’d cover only enough so they could get married right away and then finish the sessions afterward.

  They’d probably be shunned for six weeks as a discipline for their ungodly behavior. Rumors of the rushed marriage would spread far and wide, and the weight of it would hover over her head for years. But aside from that, after they were married, life would go on pretty much as it did for all newlywed couples, except she’d always dreamed of being free of the Amish life.

  What a mess. Another pain shot through her stomach, and she gagged.

  She could hear her sisters playing somewhere outside, chasing the dog, but Leah couldn’t see them. Part of her wished she could go back to that innocent, playful time.

  After her graduation from eighth grade, she’d spent all day at home with Mamm while her younger sisters attended school and the men worked. She couldn’t date or drive a rig or do anything fun, and she began to feel restless and trapped.

  When her rumschpringe began, she’d bolted out the door, sick of being bored and living under her parents’ watchful eye. They counted everything as sin, from reading fiction to listening to music to girls wearing their hair down. It was impossible to please them, so why even try to do what was right?

  She placed her hand over her stomach, wondering if a living being was growing inside her. Clearly there were some behaviors she’d have been wise to avoid.

  “Leah?” Samuel called from the barn below.

  She was supposed to be reading and didn’t even have a book in hand. She scurried to her stash of books, some in cardboard boxes, some stacked side by side in an old wooden feeding trough, the spines of the books facing her. She grabbed one and hurried back to her spot.

  His hatless head came into view. He climbed into the hayloft and walked to her. “Can we talk for a minute?”

  She put the book in front of her face, realizing she’d picked up an ancient math textbook. “I’ve got no interest in being lectured.”

  He moved a bale of hay to a spot across from her and sat. “I want your opinion.”

  “Mine? What for?” She pretended to be reading and turned a page. “You’ve never cared one whit about what I think.” She peered at him over her book.

  Distress crossed his face, and he ran his fingers through his blond hair. “That’s not true.” His eyes held an apology. “But I sort of see why you’d think so. I share too many opinions too quickly.”

  She returned to staring at the pages and flipped another one. She didn’t know why he’d come up here, but she wished he’d leave. He made her stomach hurt even worse. “Anyone who’s ever come within hearing distance of your voice knows that.”

  “Is it really that bad?”

  Surprised by his humble response, she lowered the book. “No, but it sounded good, and if you’re going to open yourself up to insults, I have to warn you that I’ve been saving them up for years.”

  A faint smile crossed his lips, then he grew serious again. “The apple crop won’t be near what we’d hoped. We’ll yield a lot of cider apples, maybe more than ever. Daed needs all of the land on the dairy side, and if we have to sell some acreage, it’ll come from the apple orchard.”

  He’d never shared anything about the business with her before. What little she learned, she heard at mealtimes while the men talked among themselves. “No one’s said a word about that at the table.”

  “We want to keep it from the younger ones so they won’t worry. I’m not even telling Catherine yet. I’m trusting you’ll say nothing.”

  Leah cupped a few stray hairs behind her ear. “I didn’t know you kept secrets. I thought that was left up to the likes of me and Jacob.”

  “Ya, about that. I may have been harsher than you deserved the other day.”

  She dropped her book.

  He picked it up and held it in both
hands. “I spoke with Rhoda yesterday. Went there to discuss solutions for the orchard, and, well, she’s convinced that I don’t value you as I should.”

  Leah fidgeted with a piece of hay. One day, for just a moment, it’d be nice to see herself differently, maybe as Rhoda had.

  “I think she’s dead wrong.” Samuel kept his eyes on his hands as he held the book between his palms, turning it a full circle, never once glancing at her. “But if that’s how I come across to you,”—he held out the book to her—“I’m sorry.”

  “Wow.” The hushed word fell from her lips before she could stop it. She took the book. “Not a problem.” He seemed so vulnerable, and it had her curious. Since taking over the orchard, he’d become harder—more determined and less tolerant. She’d forgotten he could talk to her without being angry or disgusted, and this reminder took away some of the sting from the past few years. “Did Rhoda have any answers?”

  A familiar look of frustration tightened his face. “We aren’t that far along yet. And truthfully, I hope we can get to that place. She’s not easy to deal with, and I can’t afford to insult or offend her. But I managed to do both before realizing it.” He propped his forearms on his legs. “You’re the only other person around who knows her even a little. She’s agreed to come here, and I’m desperate to not stick my foot in my mouth. Did you and she argue at all?”

  “No.”

  “She says I’m opinionated. But I’ve got news for her. It’s not just me.”

  “Oh, stars from above. I got it.” Leah stood and went to her stack of books. “Your real problem is you don’t walk gently. You trample like a horse in a tomato patch.” She put back the math book and pulled out a well-worn favorite. “Pride and Prejudice.” She dusted off the tattered cover. “It will drive you mad with how careful everyone is with their words, but if you can begin to see the value in having an opinion without sharing it—the beauty and strength it can hold—it might help you.” She held out the book to him.

  He made a face. “You and your books. No one should spend …” He dropped his usual speech about wasting the time God gave her on fictional nonsense. “Sorry.” He took the book from her. “Maybe you’re right about my needing a different perspective. But a girly book?”

  “You want to get along with a girl you don’t understand. This could help.”

  He flipped through the pages, still looking as if he’d tasted something awful. “Denki, Leah. I’m desperate enough to give it a try.”

  A desire to tell him her greatest fears pushed at her.

  “I guess I’d better get started reading.” He went toward the ladder.

  “Samuel …” Leah’s palms began to sweat.

  “Ya?” He waited.

  They’d just ended the best conversation they’d had in years, maybe ever. She didn’t want to spoil that. “There’s no hurry in returning the book.”

  “Denki.” He left.

  Her throat and mouth were dry as her heart raced. If she was pregnant, would her brother ever talk to her again the way he just had—as if she mattered?

  SEVENTEEN

  Catherine paced her bedroom floor, looking out the window at every sound, hoping it’d be Arlan returning home. He’d left after breakfast, saying he was going to church with some friends. Her parents didn’t even question him. She’d asked for some details, but he’d ignored her.

  She wasn’t fooled by his lies. A teenager who said he didn’t have a girlfriend had no reason to visit someone else’s church. Once he’d walked out of the house, she’d hurried up the stairs to her room, the perfect place to watch him. A few minutes later she’d seen a car pull up at the end of their short driveway, and he got into it. Were the people inside the vehicle Plain? With the sunlight reflecting off the car windows, she couldn’t tell.

  She glanced at the clock. It was going on one in the afternoon.

  A car door slammed, and she hurried to the window. Arlan waved good-bye to the people in the vehicle and then walked toward the house.

  She ran down the steps, flew out the door, and met him in the yard. “Where’ve you really been?”

  Arlan sidestepped her. “I was just checking out some things.”

  She grabbed his arm. “What did you need to explore on a Sunday?”

  “You know, Sis, I have a news flash for you: I’m not your problem.”

  “What is wrong with you? We’re supposed to honor our father and mother, not break their hearts.”

  “Give it a rest, Catherine.” He tried again to go around her.

  She got in front of him. “No. Not until you do what you should be doing.”

  “Who made you judge? Our first loyalty is to God, not man. And maybe it honors Him to use my free will during my rumschpringe to see God from a different viewpoint than the one I’ve grown up with. It proves our parents have raised a son who isn’t content with easy answers. If you see my behavior as out of line, take it up with God, and leave me alone.”

  Her skin crawled with anxiety. “You went to church?”

  He nodded.

  “An Englisch church?” She looked heavenward before turning back to him. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “I don’t expect you to get it. You question nothing about being Amish, but I do. And I’m searching for answers.”

  “You’re opening the door for doubt and confusion.”

  “One of many differences between us, Catherine. I’m not afraid to wrestle with those things, not if it means I have a chance to be sure of what I believe.”

  “But, Arlan, you know those who go down that path are the most likely to leave our ways.”

  “So? You believe that leaving the Amish church is the same as turning your back on God. Christ has been around a lot longer than the Amish.”

  She choked back tears. “But we have to join with other dedicated believers, those who will help us navigate this wicked world without becoming ensnared. The Amish know how to do that.”

  “They can help you do that. But I’m not convinced it’s the answer for me.”

  “There is only one answer—Christ.”

  “I agree with you, Catherine. But it seems to me that we Amish live the way we do out of fear.”

  “That’s ridiculous. I refuse the world’s ways out of faith, not fear.”

  “Then maybe, for me, grabbing on to the modern ways is walking by faith.”

  “You’re talking nonsense.”

  “It’s possible. But that’s what I’m trying to sort through, so butt out.” He headed toward the door.

  “Ya? Well, while you’re trying to figure it all out, do yourself a favor, and don’t ask Leah. She understands even less about how life works than you do.”

  He turned. “Does Samuel have any idea how much you detest his sister?”

  “I love Leah, but she’s a troublemaker who thinks nothing of disobeying God.”

  “What has she ever done to you?”

  “Nothing to me personally, not yet. But she stirs it up, and you have no idea.”

  “Wow, it must be nice to always be the one who lives right.”

  “There are moral lines to be kept, Arlan. I’m sorry it sickens you that I keep them.”

  “You seem to think I cross them all the time—whether I’m under Leah’s influence or not. I like Leah, and I hope she’ll attend this Englisch church with me sometime soon. One of the best things about her is that she’s every bit as confused as I am, and she’s not afraid to admit it or stumble and fall while trying to figure out life.”

  “You think that’s so great? And what if she’s pregnant? What will you think then?”

  The lines of anger on his face vanished, and he all but gaped at her. Her own words began to dawn on her, and she wished she could take them back.

  Arlan stared at her, a jumble of emotions showing on his face—fear and anger being the most prominent. “Why would you say that? That’s a pretty big thing to accuse someone of.”

  “I shouldn’t have said it.”

&nb
sp; “But you have reasons for thinking it’s true.”

  She swallowed hard. “I was angry with you and said the first thing that came to mind.”

  He continued studying her, trying to distinguish truth from exaggeration. “So you, the one who is always preaching about honesty and morality, just lied to me?”

  “I … I—”

  “Which is it, Catherine?” His confusion yielded to anger. “You lied, or Leah is pregnant?”

  Leah said she wasn’t pregnant, but she lied about everything all the time. Still, Catherine should’ve kept her mouth shut.

  He waited, and then he tilted his head. “What you said about Leah is true.” When she didn’t respond, he turned and strode toward the back field.

  “Arlan.” Catherine hurried after him.

  He pointed at her. “Don’t repeat what you said to anybody.”

  She nodded, hoping he’d do the same. “Let’s keep it between us, okay?”

  He shoved his hands into his pockets and walked off, probably going for one of his long walks to the pond. He’d likely stay there most of the day, tossing rocks and thinking. She wanted to beg him not to say anything to Leah. Or, heaven forbid, to Samuel. But asking that of Arlan would more likely cause him to tell both of them straightaway. All she could do was hope he’d use more discretion than she had.

  She went to the steps and sat down. What had she done? And why? She’d promised Samuel she’d keep quiet about Leah’s secrets so she’d have no excuse to leave the Amish.

  Sometimes she didn’t understand herself. As much as she admired Samuel, she felt the opposite about Leah. The girl got under her skin, but it wouldn’t bother her so much if Arlan saw her for who she was.

  Catherine had to talk to Samuel. She hurried to the barn and hitched a rig. As she drove to Samuel’s, the tears flowed so freely that the front of her dress was wet by the time she pulled into his driveway.

  If anyone could fix this, Samuel could. She tied the horse to the hitching post, knocked on the door, and went inside. Samuel was alone in the living room, his feet propped up on an ottoman and a thick book open in his hand.

  “Samuel.”