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

by Cindy Woodsmall

  “And if Rhoda says no?” Leah’s brows arched.

  Samuel drew a heavy breath. “Then what’d be the point of telling Catherine anything?”

  Jacob brushed crumbs off his shirt. “Don’t ask me, but I always thought the perk of being tied down was having someone you could share your burdens with.”

  Did Jacob know he often used the term tied down when he talked about being in a relationship? He’d always been restless. When Jacob graduated from the local Amish school at fourteen, he’d asked to leave the farm and to apprentice as a carpenter under their uncle Mervin in his construction business. So Daed let him live in Lancaster with Mervin’s family, and a driver brought Jacob home on weekends and holidays. But it seemed to Samuel that his brother grew more restless with each passing year.

  When Jacob turned nineteen, he quit working for their uncle and began traveling, picking up jobs as a carpenter and, as Jacob put it, seeing the world. He lived on his own for two years, calling home from time to time or sending occasional letters about his latest adventures snow skiing, scuba diving, or deep-sea fishing. The whole family worried if he’d ever come back home to live. But one day he showed up—with bruises, stitches, and a cast on his leg. He said he’d been in a little accident, and that’s all he’d say. But something had changed him. Some of it good, like the fact that restless didn’t describe him much anymore. Some of it not good, like the secrets he held on to so tightly.

  Samuel got up. “Denki, Leah. My favorite cookie or not, that hit the spot and will certainly make it easier to work through lunch.”

  She picked up Hope and put the pup in the cart. “I’m going to ride out farther to see if I can spot Eli. As early as you guys started today, he’d surely like a snack.”

  Jacob winked at her. “You’re a keeper.”

  “Denki.”

  They drank the last of the liquid in their cups and put them in the cart. Jacob covered the plate of cookies and set them out of Hope’s reach, then sent Leah on her way.

  While watching the wagon slowly meander farther into the orchard, Samuel said, “If we didn’t need Rhoda to become a partner, you might find yourself attracted to her.”

  Jacob stretched. “What makes you think that?”

  “What’s your number one complaint about most girls?”

  “They’re boring.”

  “She’s quirky and difficult but not boring. What’s your second complaint?”

  “They’re either overconfident about their looks or filled with self-doubt. Both are enough to drive a sane man off a cliff.”

  “I think she’s too focused on her berry patch and her family to worry much about her appearance.”

  Jacob didn’t ask what she looked like. No surprise there. He had a long list of picky things about women, but how they looked wasn’t on it.

  “What about my third complaint—that most girls cycle through more emotions in a day than a man does in a year. I can’t take that.”

  “She’s no peaceful dove, but other than that I don’t know. I hope I never have to find out. I do know she’s been the cause of a lot of hearsay on the chat line lately.”

  Jacob started for his mower. “What made her the source of rumors?”

  “She broke into a woman’s home to help her.”

  “Hmm. So she doesn’t scare easily.” He nodded. “I think I’m looking forward to meeting her.”

  “You can’t start anything romantic, Jacob. We can’t afford emotional messiness ruining what we could build as partners. Besides, after a few dates what are the chances of you actually liking her?”

  Jacob sighed. “True. Wish it wasn’t, but it is. I just turned twenty-three and not an interesting girl in sight.”

  Samuel climbed on the mower, standing behind the horses, and took the reins in hand. “It’ll happen. And when it does, the mystery woman will knock those stinky socks right off your feet.”

  TWENTY-THREE

  Rhoda wiped the sweat from her forehead. “Landon.” She tried choking back the sheer annoyance of the moment. “How did you miss the fact that you needed gas?”

  Landon tapped the clear plastic of the dash. “The stupid gauge on this thing is broke. It registers as full all the time, and sometimes I forget how long it’s been since I pulled into a station.” He moved the gearshift. “Just get in the driver’s seat and steer. I’ll push it to the shoulder of the road.”

  “I can’t do that.” She got out of the truck. “I’ll push. You steer.”

  Landon stepped out of the truck and slammed the door. “Now is not the time to try to make me go insane. I have to be back at work in less than thirty minutes.”

  “Maybe you should’ve thought of that before you began a sixty-minute trip with twenty-five minutes worth of gas.” Sweat dripped down her back.

  “I’m trying to do you a favor. Could you do things my way this time?”

  “I can’t afford to do anything else that will add to the crazy rumors about me, and someone seeing me behind the wheel of your truck while you push it down the road will definitely add fuel to the fire.”

  “It’ll only take a few minutes, and we’re stuck on a deserted back road. No one will see us. Certainly no one who knows who we are.”

  “Someone calls up the chat line, mentions that Englisch man who works for Rhoda Byler, and pretty soon folks put the info together. It’s not like your Englisch world. We’re a much smaller population, and it isn’t hard to figure out who was seen where.” A car went down the road on the opposite side, a driver with an Amish passenger. “See?”

  “Fine. We’ll do it your way.” Landon started to get in behind the wheel, but then he stopped and slammed the door again. “No. You’ll hurt yourself trying to push this heavy thing.”

  She mimicked his sigh, then slammed her door even harder. “You can’t fool me. You just like slamming doors. Or is this how the Englisch pump gasoline?”

  Landon opened his door and slammed it so hard the truck rocked.

  She followed suit. “Seems an odd way to get gasoline, but okay.”

  The familiar sound of a bridled horse shaking its head caught her attention. She turned to see the silhouette of an Amish man riding a horse in the field next to the road.

  “Duh net schtobbe.” He motioned at Landon, who had no way of knowing the man had just told him not to stop.

  Rhoda tried to swallow. She couldn’t tell if the man was teasing or disappointed in her behavior. She peered up at him, unable to see his face under the shadow of his straw hat.

  It seemed the man didn’t understand what she and Landon were doing—that they were letting off steam. “Du duh net verschteh.” You do not understand.

  He shifted on the horse, and she caught a better glimpse of his face. He was young, early twenties probably. That meant he was less likely to be offended at her cutting up with a non-Amish man and probably too busy for the chat line.

  He got off his horse and leaped over the fence with ease, then looked at Rhoda. “If you’ll steer, the two of us will push it off the road.”

  Having an Amish man with them helped solve the problem of her steering while Landon pushed. The three of them, if seen, would get a few chuckles, but it wouldn’t be considered inappropriate.

  She slid behind the wheel, hoping to goodness she didn’t embarrass herself. How did one steer a vehicle anyway?

  “Put it in neutral, Rhodes, and pull the handle to the parking brake.”

  What was he talking about? “Neutral? Parking brake?”

  “Here.” Landon slid in next to her and pushed and pulled things before hopping out again.

  Her hands trembled a bit. What a way to spend her first time behind the wheel of a vehicle! Sitting in the middle of a road while two men pushed it.

  The Amish man eased up to the side of the truck. “If you want to go right, turn the wheel to the right.” He spoke softly, as if he understood how frazzled she felt right now. “It’s similar to tugging on the reins of a horse. But don’t turn the wheel
too far. That’ll cause too much friction, and we won’t be able to make the vehicle budge. Just a gentle tug in the direction you want to go.”

  “Okay.”

  “You ready?”

  She gave him a grin. “No.”

  He paused as if he were willing to wait right there until she said yes.

  “Ya.” She nodded. “Please, let’s do this.”

  He went to the back of the truck and joined Landon as they pushed, but the truck went nowhere. The Amish man ambled to the open driver’s window again and peered inside. “You have your feet on the brake.”

  “What?” She glanced down. Ya, she had both of them pressing that pedal. “Oh. Sorry.”

  He rubbed his fingers over his mouth, and she wondered if he was trying to hide a smile.

  “Not a problem.” He returned to the back of the truck, and this time when he and Landon pushed, the truck rolled to the side of the road—and kept going!

  The Amish man ran up to the window. “The brake! Now!”

  “Oh, ya.” She jammed her feet onto the pedal, and the truck jerked to a stop.

  “Gut. Pull the gearshift toward you and then to the left until the red line is on the P instead of the N.”

  She followed his instructions. “So that’s how that works.”

  He rubbed his mouth again. “Ya.”

  “Hey, Rhodes.” Landon stepped forward. “Are you chatting about the weather or asking where the closest gas station is?”

  The man gestured in the opposite direction from the way they were headed. “It’s about ten miles back.”

  Rhoda followed his gesture, then looked at him. “And how far to Kings’ Orchard?”

  “By paved road, about two miles in the direction you’re headed.”

  “Great job, Landon.” Rhoda got out of the truck, trying to suppress a chuckle. “You just had to run out of gas right before you dropped me off.”

  “Keep it up, Rhodes, and I’ll let you hitchhike there.”

  The man cleared his throat. “Do you have a phone with you?”

  Landon pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and handed it to him. The man called someone and gave instructions to bring five gallons of gas to Kings’ Road behind the back tierce, and then he passed the phone back to Landon. “Someone will be here in about fifteen minutes.” He tipped his hat, climbed back over the fence, got on his horse, and rode off.

  Rhoda turned to Landon, hoping she didn’t look as bewildered as she felt. “Strange he didn’t introduce himself.”

  “He’s one of your people. I thought the whole purpose of living as you do is to be peculiar. Although some of you are more strange than others,” he said with a wry smile. “Besides, we didn’t introduce ourselves.”

  Still trembling a bit, she opened the tailgate of the truck. “Oh, ya, like you Englisch are not strange.”

  “Of course we are.” Landon stared after the man, who was disappearing over the horizon. “But I think he might take the cake. Speaking of dessert, I’m hungry.”

  “You should’ve eaten.” Rhoda plopped down on the tailgate.

  Landon sat next to her. “My boss at my second job asked me to use my lunch break from my first job to take her to a place I don’t think she should go. Maybe this is a sign.”

  “Oh, it’s a sign all right. It’s a sign that you forgot to feed your car.”

  “Seriously. Maybe you’re not supposed to even consider going into business with the Kings.” Landon adjusted his ball cap. “You’ve built Rhode Side Stands through your own hard work. You don’t need them. If you want to make apple products, buy their fruit and sell what you make under your own brand.”

  It made sense, she had to admit. Still … “I haven’t decided what I really think of the idea. I’m simply going to listen to what Samuel has to say.”

  “Like I told you, there’s plenty of land in Maine. And I’d help your family move.”

  “It’s all you can do to take off for a lunch break. How are you going to help us move to another state?”

  He lowered his head. “The mail store cut my hours again. Starting next week. And I’m the only employee now who isn’t a family member. My grandmother owns a small store, and maybe she could use some more help.”

  “She has plenty of help. You’ve said so yourself.”

  “I have to do something, Rhodes. She’d put me to work, and I could live with her.”

  He sounded so downhearted. Maybe there was a benefit to Samuel’s offer that she hadn’t considered. “Then perhaps the answer is for me to have more work for you to do. If I like the Kings’ setup, it may be the answer for everyone.”

  “They would want me as part of the deal?”

  “I made sure of it. And if I do this, I’ll need more work hours from you. Lots of them. And no one is moving, not you or me.”

  “You haven’t been exactly excited about coming here today.”

  “I’ve had mixed feelings. I’ll admit that. But you know how I can have a one-track mind-set concerning business.”

  “Maybe your lack of enthusiasm is a gut feeling about the whole proposition. I have the stuff my granny sent me in the glove compartment.” Landon wiggled his eyebrows at her. “We could look at it now if you want. Got nothing better to do while we wait.”

  “Not interested, thank you.”

  “Fine.” Landon checked his watch. “Think he really phoned for help, or will we still be standing here at sunset?”

  “He called.”

  Their conversation meandered, but finally a man in a shiny red truck pulled up behind them. He got out and smiled at them. “I heard you need some gas.” He grabbed a red jug from the bed of his truck.

  A nervous chill went through her. Was it excitement? Or reluctance? She had no clue. And she should.

  But part of her wanted to return home, not keep going.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Catherine stood next to her Mamm at the back of the full-sized van as the driver opened the tailgate doors. She placed her heavy package inside. “I’m so glad Samuel came up with this idea. I’ve been keeping my eye out for a great canister set for years. I love the one we found.”

  “I’ve never seen better. Perfect size for holding powdered baking items, and they’re stackable.”

  Catherine heard a familiar laugh, and her mother’s voice faded. She climbed the two concrete steps to the sidewalk and searched for the source of the laughter. About half a block away, Arlan was walking with a group of Englisch kids, chatting freely and carrying a guitar case.

  What was he doing? And why?

  “Catherine dear?”

  Catherine blinked and pulled her eyes from watching her brother. “Ya?”

  “The driver was talking to you. We’ve been to every store we were interested in around this area. Do you want Mrs. Parker to drive us across town to the fabric store?”

  “Maybe.” She wanted to follow Arlan to see where he was going. But how could she without her mother finding out?

  Her mother’s hand clutched her wrist. “I thought he was working today.”

  Catherine turned to her Mamm. She’d followed Catherine’s gaze and spotted Arlan. “I did too.” Catherine didn’t dare take off on foot. What if the group hopped into someone’s vehicle?

  She looked to the driver. “Mrs. Parker, could you turn the vehicle around and trail that group of teens?” She pointed, but they had gone around a corner.

  “I guess so.”

  Her Mamm shook her head. “I’m not sure this is a good idea. What if we find answers that we don’t want to know?”

  “Then wait here, and I’ll be back shortly.”

  Mamm hesitated. “No. If you think it’s a good idea, I’ll go with you.”

  By the time they got in and were headed in the right direction, they barely caught sight of the group before getting stopped by a red light. They moved forward a block and were stopped again, but they could see where the group was going.

  Arlan appeared to be having a grand old tim
e, laughing and cutting up as he walked with three girls and two guys, most of them wearing jeans and T-shirts. One girl had on shorts. The group turned, and it was hard to see around the vehicles to tell exactly where they’d gone. It looked as if they’d left the main sidewalk and headed up a walkway.

  “There.” Catherine pointed. “Drive to that spot and pull over.”

  As the van approached, Catherine saw two buildings near the area where they had lost sight of Arlan: a church with a white steeple and double-wide doors, one of which was propped open, and a brick warehouse that had signs in the windows advertising secondhand clothing. Had the teens gone into the church on a Friday? Or had they gone into the other place? Mrs. Parker stopped the van, and Catherine opened the door.

  Mamm grabbed her arm, disappointment mirrored on her face. “Let’s go shopping or go home.”

  “You don’t want to know what he’s doing here when he’s supposed to be working?”

  “Sometimes what keeps a relationship from shattering is minding your own business and enjoying what does exist between the two of you.”

  “Then stay here.” Catherine got out, but she wasn’t surprised when Mamm followed her. They went to the open door of the church and peered inside. The teens were rowdy, laughing and talking loudly as they messed with music equipment. “Testing, testing.” One young girl spoke into a microphone and tapped it. “It’s dead.”

  One of the boys cursed and bounded onto the stage. “I put new batteries in that last night.”

  A spotlight came on and centered on Arlan. He chuckled and strummed the guitar loudly.

  If Catherine had the guts, she’d walk down the center of the red carpet aisle and give Arlan a piece of her mind. What was he doing with a group who cursed in church? And wore shorts and practiced to be in the spotlight on center stage? She believed these youth were rebelling just as much as Leah, only their self-indulgent parties took place in church. Surely their parents didn’t know how disrespectful they were being. And where was the preacher or any adult? Did they even have permission to be here?