Her mother sniffled, and Catherine turned to look at her. Fear of what was happening with her only son etched itself on Mamm’s face. Catherine put an arm around her shoulders and walked her back to the van, wishing she’d handled the last few minutes differently.
“Kumm, let’s go home.” Catherine did what she could to comfort her Mamm on the ride back.
“This is worse than his going to a few parties or playing instruments at bars or what have you with his friends.” Mamm stared out the window. “After those things our youth return to us with a renewed commitment to our ways, but attending a church, going to a place where he feels that it’s right to play his music and that God accepts him? We could lose him this way.”
“He told me himself he’s confused about everything, Mamm. He’ll be fine.” Catherine didn’t know if she was lying to her mother or if she was simply hoping and saying it out loud.
But after they arrived home and she got her mother calmed, she was going to see Samuel. From now until the end of October, his attention would be fully consumed with the apple orchard, as it always was. But he had to heed her this time and talk to Arlan.
Rhoda waited beside Landon’s truck. After the stranger poured the gas into the tank, he refused to take any money, saying he was paying back a favor he owed.
She and Landon got into the truck and continued down the road. In mere minutes they pulled into a gravel driveway. The mailbox read “King.”
Landon stopped the truck, and they got out. A woman and three girls came outside. Rhoda recognized Leah, but she stayed back. Did she think Rhoda would say something that might get her in trouble?
“You must be Rhoda,” the woman said.
Leah stepped forward. “Ya, that’s right. And, Rhoda, this is Mamm.”
The woman held out her hand. “Elizabeth.”
As they exchanged niceties, Rhoda saw Samuel coming out of the barn.
“Rhodes, I hate to run, but I gotta get back to work.”
She turned to Landon. “Thanks for the ride.”
“I’ll pick you up after work, around four thirty.” He got into his truck and left.
“Rhoda. So glad you could make it.” Samuel held out his hand, and she shook it. “Would you care to come inside for a minute? Maybe freshen up or get a glass of water?”
“No, I’m good. I’d like to see your operation.”
“So what’s first—the office or the orchard?”
“Orchard.”
“I figured as much. I already have two fresh horses saddled and waiting.” He blinked and glanced at the barn. “Unless you’d rather not ride a horse.”
“It’s been a while, but I don’t mind.”
“Then right this way.” He turned to Leah. “Care to go with us?”
Shock covered Leah’s face, and then she smiled. “Not this time.” She rubbed her stomach.
“Not a problem,” Samuel said.
As Rhoda followed Samuel toward the barn, she glanced back at Leah. “Is she not feeling well?”
“She’s been sick at her stomach a lot lately, even up at night with it. Jacob thinks it’s nerves. I wonder if she damaged her health, drinking like she was.”
“Maybe it’s a combination of things. I gave her some licorice tea when she was at my place, and it soothed her bellyache. Would you mind if I fixed some different kinds of herbal teas and gave them to her? That way she could discover which one works best for her.”
Samuel untied the horses. “I know all of us would appreciate your effort or suggestions.”
Appreciate her effort? Why was he talking in such formal terms?
He handed her a rein and then held the cheek pieces of the bridle on each side of the horse’s face, encouraging the creature to remain in place while Rhoda struggled to mount it. He climbed on his horse with ease and rode ahead of her out of the barn.
“Mark the house in your mind, and remember it sits due east.”
“Okay.” She hoped this next venture was easier than steering a vehicle while men pushed it.
Once on the path leading to what she assumed would be the orchard, they rode side by side. As they came to a knoll, she saw apple trees spreading out in all directions. They stopped their horses.
Samuel gestured across the land. “The orchard, with about eight hundred trees, takes up thirty acres.”
Her heart pounded at the breathtaking sight. “When does picking season begin?”
“We have several varieties of apples, and the earliest ones will be ready in about three weeks.”
Looking out at the sea of trees laden with fruit, she understood why he was pushing so hard to find answers. “I never thought about apples needing to be picked in mid-August. I always visualized them as a fall harvest.”
“The bulk will ripen from mid-September to the end of October.”
“I bet this place is crawling with pickers during that time.”
“It’s busy, kind of stressful, but it’s what the other nine months of the year are all about.”
“The view is magnificent.”
“It is, isn’t it?”
She drew a deep breath. “The air carries the sweetness of the apples.”
“That’s because we don’t use mulch.”
She turned to see his face, and he was grinning. She laughed. “Are you making fun of my composting methods?”
“Definitely.” After a moment he grew serious again. “I believe this plan can be profitable for everyone, and we’ll do anything we can to make the start-up as smooth as possible.”
The horses meandered, and all she could see in every direction were perfectly placed trees. In fact, everything looked the same. No landmarks, nothing standing out as distinctive. She tugged on the horse’s right rein and made a full circle. “There’s no sense of direction from here.”
“Not at first. After a little time you’d learn where certain types of trees are located. That helps. Do you know about what time of day it is?”
“Around two, I think.”
“Ya, that’s right. Now glance at the sun.”
She followed his direction. “Oh, I get it. The sun is heading west, and it’s past noon, so that way is west.” She turned the horse. “And that’s east.”
“Ya.”
“Now I understand why you told me to mark your home as due east.”
“Very good.”
She appreciated his foresight to know she’d get disoriented and that he had planned ahead of time to address it. “What kinds of apples do you grow?”
“Mostly Gala, McIntosh, Red and Golden Delicious, and Baldwin. They ripen in that order.”
She stopped below a tree that was heavy with medium-sized fruit. “This is spectacular. You must get fifteen bushels from one tree.”
“Good estimate. Most people have no idea. When a tree is healthy, nearly half of those fifteen to twenty bushels will be cider apples.”
“That seems like a lot.”
“Ya, maybe so, but it’s always been that way. We may get hit a little harder on that than most orchards since we don’t combat the pests with chemicals.”
“And what you call cider apples can be used for canning?”
“Ya.”
Did he really think her small setup could deal with that much produce?
They rode farther out, and she saw two men, mere specks on the horizon, riding east. “Workers?”
“Ya.”
She hadn’t imagined how overwhelming the trees and fruit would feel. The acreage seemed to go on forever. “Samuel, this is a huge operation. I can’t keep up with anything close to what you need. I could can the produce from two, maybe three trees in a day. That’s less than two hundred trees in a two-month period. And I’d need full-time help to pull that off.”
“I’m surprised you think you can do that much.”
“How’s that amount going to help?”
“We don’t know that it will, not yet. That’ll take sitting down and plugging in all the figures—cost of mak
ing the product and such. But the difference between what we make when selling cider apples outright and what we can make per jar of canned goods should be enough to do all I’m hoping, for you and for us. Maybe we could expand next year.”
“You’re expecting a lot, more than you realize, I think. And there is so little time to prepare for the massive amount of work.”
“Most of the trees on the back tierce are Baldwin. Those ripen last. You would start out canning the Gala. Use those weeks as your practice runs for working out the kinks.” He studied her, and the shadow under his broad-brimmed hat couldn’t hide the determination in his eyes.
“I’m not sure I can do what you’re asking. Or that I want to try.”
“There must be something you’d like to do or to purchase that would make the extra work worth it for you.”
Actually, being able to hire Landon full-time would mean a lot to her, but her cellar was simply too small. The unexpected longing to be a part of Kings’ Orchard surprised her, but how could she keep up in her cellar?
“Well, let’s go to your office and make lists of needed supplies and talk overhead. I don’t think this will work, but we should look at the numbers.”
They returned to the barn and tended to the horses, chatting about their businesses.
“This way.” Samuel went ahead of her and opened a door to what looked like a tack room but was a small, rustic office.
A man sat behind the lone desk, making notes in a book. The top of his straw hat was all she could make out.
“Jacob.”
He looked up, and she recognized him as the man who’d helped her and Landon on the side of the road. He grinned and stood. “Did you arrive at your appointment on time?”
“I did, denki. And without the need to hitchhike.”
“Gut. Very gut. I’d say I’ve met my good-deed quota for the year, then.”
“Was that the first and last?” Her thoughts were moving swiftly to keep up with Jacob—but no faster than her heart.
“Yup.” The way he said it reminded her of the way Landon imitated some actor named John Wayne.
“Glad you hadn’t filled your good-deed quota before today.”
“You should be. Otherwise you’d still be in the middle of the road, possibly holding a detached truck door.”
“Uh.” Samuel motioned. “This is my brother Jacob, but it sounds as if you’ve met.”
“Not officially.” Jacob held out his hand. “But I believe you’re Rhodes.”
She shook his hand. “Most call me Rhoda, but ya. It’s nice to meet you, Jacob. Denki for helping a stranded pair.”
Jacob moved out from behind the desk. “You are quite the team. That bit of entertainment will last me at least a week or so.” He removed his hat, revealing a thick head of wavy honey-brown hair.
Samuel went behind the desk and took a seat. “What are you two talking about?”
“Nothing.” Jacob waved his brother’s question away. “I kept it all business. Right?”
“Very much so.”
Jacob put his hat on a nearby filing cabinet. “I would have introduced myself proper-like if I hadn’t realized who you were. I knew there’d be time for all that later today.”
Samuel motioned for her to take a seat beside the desk. “You’ll have to excuse my brother. He insists on challenging women when he meets them, wanting to see if anyone can, well, keep up. Which explains why women don’t tend to talk to him more than once.”
Rhoda took a seat. “Ah, that’s why your rescue was so brief. If you were going to have one conversation with me, you wanted to hold out for a longer one.”
Jacob stared at the floor before he angled his head, his eyes peering at her through thick lashes. He smiled. “Actually, you have it all wrong.”
“I do?”
“I was hoping to avoid any conversations with you.”
“Jacob,” Samuel chided.
Rhoda laughed. “You lost that one. And now that I realize it’s your goal, I’ll convince every woman I know to take turns chasing you around this orchard, making you talk to us.”
Jacob grinned. “I have strong convictions about not talking to single women. You’ll keep that in mind while picking out who to bring here, right?”
“Absolutely. I’ll bring elderly, married women only.”
Jacob pursed his lips and rolled his eyes. “Women never hear a man right.”
Samuel cleared his throat and began talking about the possibilities of her partnering with them. After several minutes they determined she couldn’t do more than twelve bushels a day, and having more than one assistant wasn’t possible, not inside her tiny kitchen.
Jacob rocked back in his chair. “Then, if you’re not opposed to the idea, the answer is to find a bigger workspace.”
Rhoda considered his words. “Two problems with that. One, it’s a tall order to fill between now and the beginning of the harvest. Two, I still have my own fruits to tend for at least another month. I have to remain close to home.”
Samuel propped his cheek on his fist. “We seem to be getting the cart ahead of the horse. If we found a solution for each issue you’ve mentioned, and we paid you enough for the work to be worth your while, are you willing to partner with us?”
Rhoda picked a pencil off the desk and fidgeted with it. “Part of me would like to be associated with a business as unique as Kings’ Orchard, to have at least one season of working with you to see what we can accomplish. But—”
Leah came to the office door. “Catherine’s here.”
Leah’s body language made Rhoda think she was warning them more than announcing a visitor. Rhoda glanced from one man to the other, trying to get an idea of who Catherine was.
The lines on Samuel’s face drew tight. “What?”
Jacob rolled his eyes again, but despite his smile he looked less amused. “Girlfriends tend to come over unannounced.”
Was the woman Samuel’s or Jacob’s girlfriend? Neither man gave her any clues.
“Excuse me.” Samuel stood. “I’ll be back.”
So Catherine was Samuel’s girlfriend. Rhoda’s eyes met Jacob’s, and she hoped he couldn’t see any traces of disappointment. She knew now that the sparks she’d felt while with Samuel had ignited only in her, not him.
Samuel worked his way around the tight fit between the office furniture—the desk and file cabinets—and Jacob and Rhoda. But before he was halfway to the door, a young woman with light brown eyes and hair stepped into the office. She caught a glimpse of Rhoda and froze.
Samuel went to her. “Catherine, come in and meet Rhoda.”
Catherine looked at Samuel, clearly surprised by Rhoda’s presence, perhaps as much so as Rhoda was to learn Samuel had a girlfriend.
Samuel put his hand on Catherine’s back. “Rhoda is considering partnering with Kings’ Orchard to help us increase our profit for this year’s crop.”
Rhoda stood, and Jacob got up to shift out of the way. Rhoda went toward Catherine and held out her hand.
Catherine’s face flushed. “It’s nice to meet you.” But the tension radiating from her told Rhoda otherwise.
After they shook hands, Rhoda returned to her chair.
Catherine ducked her head toward Samuel’s arm. “A paid trip to Lancaster and money to spend? Really, Samuel?” she whispered.
“Let’s step outside for a minute.”
Without another word Catherine turned and walked out.
Samuel paused, then looked at Rhoda. “I won’t be long.”
Leah didn’t budge, and the room was uncomfortably silent.
“You planned and schemed to get rid of me for the day?” Catherine’s voice echoed from elsewhere in the barn. Samuel said something, and then their voices faded.
Jacob and Leah watched Rhoda, seemingly not knowing what to say any more than she did.
A young man came into the room, brushing past Leah, then glanced out the door behind him. “What’s going on with those two?”
Eli’s smile welcomed her. “You have no idea how glad I am to finally meet you.”
He was a charmer. “You have a lovely place. The orchard is a true sight to behold.”
“You’re right. It is. After growing up with seeing it every day, I forget that part sometimes.”
Jacob motioned for Leah and Eli to sit. He looked at the blank piece of paper Samuel had pulled out. “Leah and Eli, let me fill you in on what we’ve been talking about and see if you have any ideas.”
Their voices faded as Rhoda’s attention drifted. Wasn’t it natural for a person involved with someone else, be it a spouse or a steady, to mention them while talking?
So why hadn’t Samuel said one word about his girlfriend?
TWENTY-FIVE
Samuel’s emotions swung like a pendulum between agitation and understanding. He and Catherine stood in the pasture on the other side of the milking barn, a place far enough away from the horse barn and the office so no one could see or hear them.
Catherine shooed a fly away. “I came back early because Mamm witnessed something very upsetting in Lancaster—Arlan and his secret life. I was desperate for your advice. When I get here, I discover that my brother isn’t the only one neck-deep in secrets.”
“I was neck-deep in business.” Samuel couldn’t afford to get pulled into a long conversation about Arlan, but he had to verify his gut was right—he didn’t need to head to Lancaster immediately. “What was Arlan doing?”
She explained, using the words “different religion” several times, and Samuel knew Arlan could wait. Catherine was more out of sorts than the situation called for, but that didn’t surprise him. “He’s not thinking of joining a different religion, only a different denomination.”
“Only? There is no only about this, Samuel. You can fix this. I know you can.”
His patience wore thin, and he tried not to scream the question that often banged around inside him when she wanted him to fix something. “How?”
“I don’t know, but you always find solutions for whatever is important in your life. I’ve never seen you face a problem you didn’t solve.”
A Season for Tending: Book One in the Amish Vines and Orchards Series Page 19
