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

by Cindy Woodsmall

  A loud moan escaped her. “No.”

  “Oh, Rhoda.” Leah stood next to her, gazing at the destruction.

  Samuel joined them, carrying a second lantern. Together, the four of them walked from the blueberry patch to the strawberries. The tire tracks continued—not in perfectly straight lines, but weaving in a way that indicated this was done purposefully. And the driver was either drunk or having fun.

  Probably both.

  They continued to the raspberry and blackberry patches and discovered equal damage there. Her enemy—or enemies—had certainly been thorough. She couldn’t tell in the dim light whether one or more trucks, maybe even a tractor, had invaded her property.

  And ruined her life.

  Rhoda held her breath as she headed toward the grapevines. She’d already finished picking most of the berries for the season, but her grapes hadn’t quite ripened yet. She’d anticipated a bumper crop this year. Just that morning she’d been delighted how the vines were heavy with almost-ripe fruit.

  But the intruders hadn’t left her even that. The trellises had been mowed down.

  She almost sank to her knees, but she remained upright, looking down the length of the field. What had been vibrant with promise when she left the house hours ago was now rubbish.

  “Seems like neighbors would have heard the racket it’d take to do this kind of damage and would have called the police.” Jacob’s tone was grim.

  “Seems like.” Numbness was her friend right now. She wouldn’t collapse. That’s what the intruders wanted, wasn’t it? She fought the desire to run crying into the house.

  Music vibrated the air around her, coming from down the block.

  “I can’t believe it. All the years I spent tending this berry patch, and now it’s … ruined.” She couldn’t catch a full breath.

  “Who would’ve done such a thing?” Samuel’s question trembled with outrage.

  Who indeed? Rhoda’s shock gave way to speculation. The tire tracks were big. As though they came from a tractor. Or a monster-sized truck. Did Rueben Glick hate her this much? How could he accomplish such destruction? No Amish owned a truck large enough to make those tracks. Rueben had Englisch friends. Did one own such a vehicle?

  Dizziness got the better of her, and she sat on a pile of upturned dirt and stems from broken plants. Jacob crouched beside her and held out the bottle of water he’d brought with him.

  Between sips of the tepid water, she gazed at her land. Would she wake to find this was a bad dream?

  She looked at the concerned faces of her new friends. No, this was no dream.

  Eventually her ragged breathing and her pounding heart calmed a bit. But she still didn’t have the strength to stand. She scooped up a handful of soil. “I started this garden when I was a little girl. Daed bought each of his daughters a blueberry bush and helped us plant them.”

  She ran her thumb through the dirt in her palm, remembering the excitement she’d felt at putting that first tiny bush in the ground. Images of her brothers trying to snatch fruit ran through her mind, and she chuckled. “The hardest part of keeping my harvest safe was stopping my brothers from eating the fruit straight from the vine. Daed shooed them away time and again, making sure everyone in the family knew the berry patch was mine to handle as I saw fit. Daed’s bought me at least one new plant for every birthday and Christmas since. And when I graduated, he helped me expand into an entire vineyard.”

  She longed to call him and tell him what was going on, to feel the comfort of his arms. But he’d take this news hard. He’d paid a high price over the years to protect this land for her. His heart would break as much as hers when he saw what had happened to their precious field. She spread out her fingers and watched the soil run through them.

  Samuel looked around at the moonlit field. “I saw a few plants that weren’t uprooted. And you can replant the ones that were only partly damaged. With your skill at cultivation, I imagine most will survive. At least some will.”

  “Ya.” Leah’s face brightened. “You started out with one blueberry bush, and you created all of this. Surely you can make a fresh start with whatever we can save.”

  Jacob stood beside his brother, and Rhoda felt his gaze on her face. “Where do you keep your shovels?”

  She stared up at them. Didn’t they understand the severity of the devastation? She couldn’t start over with just a few bushes, even if some were left. “I appreciate that you want to help me, but—”

  “They’re probably in the shed.” Samuel headed to the small wooden building like a man with a plan. Leah and Jacob followed him.

  Their desire to do something to salvage the situation touched Rhoda’s heart, but it was hopeless. She looked at the house, the windows dark. Everyone in her family was gone for the night. She’d been away all evening. How did the vandals know no one would be home?

  The way the property sat, Mrs. Walker would have heard and seen whoever did this. Even though the woman didn’t want anything to do with Rhoda, she’d have called the police had she been home, but she was still in the hospital.

  Rhoda looked at the other homes. She imagined the households were so used to tuning out the parties, revving engines, and nonsense that not one of them thought to look out the window.

  In less than four hours, the sun would rise, and the destruction would be visible to everyone.

  She’d have to call her Daed in the morning to tell him what had happened. They’d return from the relatives, where they’d hoped to find a home for one of her brothers. Her house, so quiet and peaceful now, would be filled again with the noise and stress of numerous family members all squeezed into one home. What would they say about her ruined fields?

  Although her brothers would grieve along with her and would work beside her as much as possible to reestablish her plants and get them yielding a healthy crop again, they would long to use the plot for their own families. If she didn’t replant, her family could build a house on that land, maybe two. Her brothers would try to hide their thoughts for her sake, and they would feel bad for her, knowing how much she loved her berry patches. But in the place where dreams and hopes grow without encouragement, they’d imagine how great it’d be to build their homes on this land.

  She listened to Samuel, Jacob, and Leah rummaging through the shed and rubbed her weary eyes. Was keeping the land selfish? Was God showing her that she needed to let her brothers have her property? Even if the business plan with Kings’ Orchard didn’t work out, she had other options. There were fields she could rent to grow her berries. Her brothers had no other alternatives.

  She rose, feeling the weight of the grief that had just begun.

  The King siblings came back, armed with gardening implements and wearing gloves and sympathetic faces.

  She steeled herself. “We’re going to clear the land and burn all the uprooted plants.”

  They stared at her as if she were crazy.

  Samuel’s brow furrowed. “Rhoda … are you sure?”

  How could she be sure of anything? “I won’t let the neighbors see my plants uprooted like a white flag waving on a pole. I refuse to give the vandals that kind of satisfaction.”

  Jacob leaned against the handle of the shovel sticking in the dirt. “Maybe you need some time to cool off a bit and think this over. You don’t want to make any rash decisions that you’ll regret later.”

  “My mind’s made up. In time my heart will follow.” Rhoda clutched the handle of the shovel in Jacob’s hand. “Whatever time I have for canning this fall now belongs to Kings’ Orchard. And at least one of my brothers will have a piece of land to build on. Maybe both of them.”

  She’d met Samuel, Leah, and Jacob only three weeks ago, but they were willing to give their time, energy, and hard work to help her try to save her dream.

  She closed her eyes, seeing the sprawling vines and tendrils of her garden sparkling with dew in the early morning sun.

  Some wondrous things grow in the heart, not the ground.


  THIRTY-FOUR

  Samuel lit a kerosene lamp in the phone shanty. Rhoda stood near him, quiet but going through all the right steps. He looked up the number for where her Daed was staying, dialed it, passed her the receiver, and stepped to the side.

  Rhoda shifted it closer to her mouth. “Uncle James, this is Rhoda. I’m fine, but I need to talk to my Daed.”

  James said something Samuel couldn’t make out.

  “Ya, I’ll wait.” She jerked air into her lungs, her fingers trembling when she rested them on her lips.

  “Rhodes.” Her father came on the line. “What’s wrong?”

  “Daed …” Rhoda’s voice cracked for the first time, and she thrust the phone at Samuel, shaking her head.

  He eased the phone from her hand. “Karl, this is Samuel King. When we brought Rhoda home tonight, we discovered that vandals had destroyed her garden and vineyard, and I think she’d like you to come home.” Samuel assured Karl several times that Rhoda wasn’t harmed, not physically. They said good-bye, and he hung up.

  “Denki.” Rhoda’s voice was barely a whisper. “I need to call Landon.”

  Samuel couldn’t imagine why she had to notify her assistant when it was nearly three in the morning, but he handed her the phone.

  In a few minutes, when she was done, he’d have to call his uncle Mervin. He hated to disturb them at this time of the morning, but he had to tell him what had happened. It was the only way to head off a panic when the sun came up and his family realized Jacob, Leah, and he were still gone.

  “Landon, it’s me.”

  Samuel could hear Landon’s response. He had no complaint that Rhoda was waking him at three in the morning.

  “Someone’s … destroyed my garden, uprooted nearly every plant and plowed down the trellises we built.”

  Landon’s words were laced with concern. “What can I do for you, Rhodes?”

  Their conversation gave Samuel a better understanding of their relationship and a greater appreciation for Landon.

  “I need you and your dad’s Bobcat.”

  Rhoda’s flat words almost broke Samuel’s heart. Apparently, Landon didn’t like them, either.

  “Rhodes, no. We can replant and reestablish. File charges this time, and put a stop to it.”

  “The decision is made, Landon. I need the Bobcat and its headlights. Are you going to help me or not?”

  Silence hung in the air. It was odd how overcome with emotion she was with her Daed and how in control she was with Landon.

  “Okay.” Landon’s voice had become a hoarse whisper, but Samuel heard him clearly. “I’ll be there as quick as I can.”

  “Thanks. See you soon.” She pressed the Disconnect button and handed the receiver to Samuel. The sadness on her face stirred him. He’d like to get hold of the people who did this and march them to the police station. Because the Amish were nonresistant and believed in always turning the other cheek, they avoided involving the police as much as possible, but this needed someone with legal authority to step in.

  Rhoda walked away, and he dialed his uncle’s number, wondering who—if anybody—would answer at this time of night. Had everyone gone to bed, assuming that he and his siblings would slip in when they returned? Or was Catherine waiting up for him, maybe sitting in the barn with Hope—either feeling sorry about their argument or coming up with more accusations to hurl at him?

  To Samuel’s relief, his uncle answered. “I’ve been worried about you. Everything okay?”

  He explained the devastation of Rhoda’s berry patch. “We’re going to stay and help her clear the land. I doubt we’ll finish in time to get back to your place before the driver picks up everyone in the morning.”

  “You want to tell Catherine, or should I pass on the message for you?”

  Taking the easy way out was tempting. “I should probably talk to her myself. Is she awake?”

  “She wanted to watch for you, but your aunt convinced her to get some sleep. She’s in Dorothy’s room with the rest of the girls. I can have your aunt go in and get her.”

  “No. I don’t want to disturb everyone.” Especially since he had no idea how Catherine would react. “When she wakes up, tell her that we’re all right and that I’ll call her as soon as I can.”

  As Samuel left the phone shanty, he noticed Rhoda giving instructions to Jacob and Leah. “We’ll drag or haul everything to the back side of the property. Landon will dig a hole there when he gets here. City ordinances allow for fires as long as they’re in a pit and we bury the ashes when we’re done.”

  Her strength made him want to be stronger, more patient with disappointments, more determined in the face of battles. He’d been impatient with Catherine of late, hiding situations as he saw fit and then being frustrated when she reacted like a woman caught off guard. He joined the group, and they worked in silence for quite a while before the rumble of a motor started out low and grew louder as Landon pulled up in his truck, towing the Bobcat.

  He got out, surveying the destruction. Rhoda went to him, and after a moment of talking quietly, he nodded and returned to the trailer to get the Bobcat.

  A van pulled up to the curb more than an hour later, and Rhoda’s family poured out. Her sisters-in-law and brothers unloaded sleeping children and headed for the house.

  Her Daed walked toward her. “Rhodes, I’m so sorry.”

  She went to him and fell into his arms, sobbing. Samuel wasn’t sure which surprised him more, that she was crying or that his own eyes stung with tears.

  Rhoda’s Daed held her tight, whispering words Samuel couldn’t hear. Rhoda’s Mamm put one hand on her husband’s shoulder and the other on her daughter’s. Rhoda’s brothers and sisters-in-law came outside, their children probably tucked back in bed. The two brothers and their wives repeatedly expressed how shocked and appalled they were at this senseless destruction.

  “We’ll help you replant,” John insisted.

  Rhoda shook her head. “No, and I don’t want to discuss it.”

  “But—,” Steven began.

  “No.” Rhoda pulled away from her father’s embrace and explained her plan to continue clearing the field so it appeared to have been intentionally plowed instead of destroyed by vandals.

  Rhoda’s Daed rubbed her shoulders. “That berry patch means everything to you.”

  “I’m doing the right thing, and we all know it. I’ll pour my time and energy into canning for Kings’ Orchard.” She looked both of her brothers in the eye. “This is your land now.” Her voice trembled, and she had to take a few deep breaths before she continued. But her face showed tender resolve.

  Samuel watched this close-knit family embrace one another, heard their heartfelt assurances of support and encouragement. What he’d seen as weakness in her brothers—marrying before they owned their own homes and had their financials in good order—was in reality a strength. Both had sacrificed certain comforts to form unions they did not regret. And whatever stress it caused, they obviously dealt with it while learning patience and growing in love. This was the kind of family he hoped to build with Catherine. But his lack of patience was undermining them.

  Rhoda wanted the property to look as if what had been done was her doing. Since most of the fence was intact, he and Jacob needed to repair the damaged part. He motioned to Jacob. While the others worked in the berry patch, Samuel and Jacob went to the shed and found a couple of hammers, a box of nails, some long boards, a can of white paint, and paintbrushes. Samuel gathered several boards about the right size while Jacob loaded the smaller items into a wheelbarrow. They took everything to the fence and worked in silence. As Samuel hammered boards into place, he tried to figure out how to help Rhoda make enough money canning for them that she’d gain in profit rather than lose because of the vandals.

  He heard a loud whoosh, and he and Jacob turned to see a blaze go up in the middle of the field. Rhoda, her brothers, and Landon stood silhouetted against the bonfire, staring into the flames.

&nb
sp; Samuel’s heart went out to Rhoda. He couldn’t imagine how devastated he’d feel if he were watching Kings’ Orchard go up in smoke.

  Jacob picked up a paint can. “Guess that’s good enough for now.”

  Samuel turned and saw Jacob examining the new fence. “Reckon we’d best get everything back to the shed then.”

  “You go on ahead,” Jacob said. “I want to clean up a little here first. I’ll catch up in a minute.”

  “Suit yourself.” Samuel filled the wheelbarrow and pushed it to the spigot. After cleaning the paintbrushes, he took everything into the shed. By the time he’d put it all away, the dark night was beginning to lighten, although there was no sign yet of the sun. He closed the shed door behind him.

  Rhoda’s Mamm came out the front door. “Breakfast!”

  John, Steven, and Landon went to the house. They appeared to want Rhoda to go with them, but she declined and lingered by the fire.

  As Samuel walked toward her, Jacob came from the other direction, carrying a bush with its roots wrapped in old cloths he’d gotten from somewhere.

  “Samuel and I repaired the broken fence.”

  Her face looked as barren as her land. “Denki, Jacob. I didn’t even think about that. I’m glad you did.”

  He set the bundle at her feet. “I found this near the fence line.”

  She knelt. “Jacob.” His name was barely a whisper on her lips. “You found an undamaged blueberry bush.”

  “I guess it was close enough to the fence to be protected.”

  Even from a few feet away, Samuel could see that his brother cared how Rhoda felt.

  “I’ll see you inside.” As Jacob headed to the house, Rhoda cradled the blueberry bush like a sleeping infant.

  Samuel walked up to her and cleared his throat. “Aren’t you going inside?”

  “I can’t. Not yet.” She watched the remains of her plants smoldering in the large hole.

  Despite his hunger Samuel sat beside her. “It probably doesn’t feel like it, but you’ve handled this mess well, shown a lot of courage.”