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

by Cindy Woodsmall

  “An Amish man?”

  “Gluck or Glack.”

  “Glick. Rueben Glick.”

  “Anytime he came looking for support or information to take back to your people, I gave it to him. I don’t even know why. None of what I thought makes any sense now. But my gossip and influence probably helped people get it in their minds that ruining your gardens was the right thing to do.” She looked into Rhoda’s eyes. “I’m ashamed of myself.”

  Part of Rhoda wanted to lecture the woman and walk out, but she moved to the chair beside the bed and took Mrs. Walker by the hand. “It wasn’t just you. But I forgive you.”

  “Good.” Mrs. Walker patted her hand. “Thank you.” She held her hand tight, fighting to get control of her voice again.

  How sad that misunderstandings between them had stolen so much, and now that they were finally resolved, Rhoda wouldn’t be across the fence working in her garden where they could’ve spoken regularly, taking away loneliness for both of them. She moved to the window, and with her garden uprooted, she could see her home clearly now. Landon’s truck sat in her driveway, reminding her that she had much to do to wrap up business. “I need to go.”

  “I’m glad you came to see me. You come back anytime. I’m going to be praying for you every day.”

  “Denki.” Rhoda left, grateful for the truth Mrs. Walker now understood. She hurried toward her driveway, anxious to make the final deliveries and to get Landon to take her to Kings’ Orchard. She wouldn’t tell him about Samuel’s idea of hiring him, but once he was on the property, Samuel would waste no time filling him in, and she’d get a chance to see the summer kitchen.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  Dark enveloped the land as Jacob took a seat at the picnic table by himself. He’d given his word, but could he actually do the work? He’d told Rhodes he’d start on it, but since he’d arrived home from her place six hours ago, all he’d accomplished was pulling his tool belt out of its hiding place in his bedroom and placing it inside the summer kitchen. Then memories began suffocating him, and the next thing he knew, he’d walked out of the shabby building and gone to the barn office. He’d spent the rest of the day helping on the dairy side of the farm—feeding and milking cows, paying bills, and updating ledgers.

  A vehicle pulled into the driveway, and he shielded his eyes from the bright headlights. The engine stopped running, and the lights disappeared. The passenger door opened, and Rhoda got out. Jacob couldn’t make himself move. Landon eased from the driver’s side, and Jacob watched the two of them head toward the house.

  Rhoda glanced around, spotted Jacob, and redirected her path. “Hello.”

  “Hi.” He motioned for them to join him.

  Samuel stepped out of the house and spoke to Rhoda, and then he and Landon went toward the barn to talk business. Rhoda moved closer to the picnic table, where he now sat. The casual look on her face suddenly changed to one of concentration, and she looked around. “The air carries a wonderful aroma of the ocean. Do you smell that?”

  “I don’t, and whatever you’re picking up, it’s not ocean. We’re too far.”

  She breathed deep. “I’ve only been to the beach once, when I was twelve, but I remember that fragrance clearly.”

  “What, dead fish?”

  “No. Briny water and sunshine and salt air with hints of seaweed and surf.”

  This woman just might be as quirky as she was fascinating. “You like the ocean?”

  “I was terrified of it.” She took a seat across from him. “But I dipped my toes in the edge of the water, feeling the tickle of white bubbles. And I sat on the beach and enjoyed the magnitude of the ocean. I even spotted a few dolphins frolicking.”

  He lifted one eyebrow. “Frolicking?”

  She looked at him, seemingly seeing right through him. “The aroma’s not really here right now, is it?”

  He chuckled. “Not at all.”

  Her expression changed, as if she finally understood. “You love the ocean.” The authority in her statement was undeniable.

  His heart jolted. She’d picked up on a part of who he was, or rather used to be. “This is a weird conversation, Rhodes.”

  “Sorry. I shouldn’t …” She shrugged. “So where is the summer kitchen from here?”

  “It’s a little over a thousand feet that direction, just beyond the dip on the other side of the office barn.”

  “A thousand feet. Can you put a concrete visual to that?”

  “There’s a little more than five thousand feet in a mile, so basically it’s a fifth of a mile from here.”

  “Well, why didn’t you say so? That I can wrap my mind around.”

  “I can show you if you’re willing to walk across a rough path in the dark.”

  “I really want to get a glimpse of the place—whatever I can make out in the dark.”

  “I’ll get a lantern. Do you want to step inside the house and say hello?”

  “No, I’ll wait here. If I’m going to be coming and going all the time, I’d rather everyone get used to me not stopping in for a chat.”

  “You and Samuel are more alike than you probably realize.” He rose. “I’ll be right back.”

  He found the lantern and lit it, then returned to where Rhoda stood at the edge of the apple orchard, looking out across it. He walked to her and gazed at the view—acre after acre of rolling hills and lush trees shrouded under the beauty of night.

  “This may be the most gorgeous view I’ve ever seen.”

  “Hold that thought, because the building you’re about to see is hideous.” He held out his arm. “It’s a rough path between here and there.”

  She took his arm, and he led her down a narrow, bumpy path, dodging rocks, potholes, and clumps of brush, until the summer kitchen came into sight.

  She paused. “You have your work cut out for you.” She released his arm and walked ahead to enter the open doorway. He came in behind her, casting the light in whichever direction held her interest. “It has lots of potential, but you must be quite the carpenter.”

  “That’s the hope.”

  She turned to him, came close, and took the lantern. Holding it up, she studied his face. “You don’t want to do this, do you?”

  He knew she saw things and picked up on the unspoken, but this was eerie. He wasn’t sure he liked this side of her. What else might she pick up on? “It’s challenging me, but I want to do the work, very much so.”

  She set the lantern next to his tool belt on the beat-up, weathered block counter. “Tell me your plans.”

  Jacob walked from one wall and corner to another, describing what he hoped to do. She added her thoughts, and soon they were coming up with ideas he hadn’t thought of before.

  Rhoda smiled at him. “You have vision.”

  “Says the clairvoyant to the carpenter.”

  She laughed. “I see or know only what’s given to me, and most of the time I botch what I am given. You can look at a broken structure, or even nothing, and see what it can become by your own hands. That’s a truly powerful gift.”

  Her words encouraged him, and even though his apprehension didn’t fade, his excitement at the prospect grew. She freed the hammer from its loop in the tool belt and held the rubber-gripped handle out to him.

  Inside that run-down structure, with only a dim lantern giving light, he stared at her. It was as if she held out to him the right to own his past and use it to build a new beginning. He took the hammer from her, feeling freer than he had in years, and gazed into her gorgeous eyes, a color that was so brilliant the name blue didn’t do it justice.

  Was he looking at someone who’d unlock his secrets and maybe, just maybe, free him from them?

  Samuel climbed the ladder and inspected a Gala apple. The first fruit of the season would be ready to pick in about a week. That gave them five working days, eight at the most, to get ready for the harvest. He plucked an apple and descended the ladder.

  For the last few years, he’d given the first ap
ple of the season to Catherine. His heart weighed as much as a bushel of apples of late. It had been eleven days since they had fought over his decision to help Rhoda, and they hadn’t spoken since. He’d seen her at church on Sunday. Their eyes had met occasionally as he sat with the men and she with the women. She smiled, looking sad and lonely. He missed her. But he wasn’t ready to try to fix what was wrong between them any more than she was.

  Voices echoed against the hills, and he saw Rhoda riding bareback as she topped a hill. The Morgan broke up ground as she leaned low, spurring it onward. She looked behind her. Jacob crested the knoll on a mare, gaining on her fast.

  Rhoda brought her horse to a natural gait and ambled to Samuel. “Guder Marye, Samuel.”

  “Good morning, Rhodes.”

  Catherine hadn’t been here for nearly two weeks, but Rhoda had been a regular. In spite of their playing around this morning, Rhoda and Jacob both worked hard and stayed focused. The six of them—Jacob, Rhoda, Eli, Leah, Landon, and he—were making good progress toward having the summer kitchen fully operational by the time the first apples were ready to harvest.

  Rhoda held out her hand. “The first apple of the season?”

  He passed it to her. “It’s not perfectly ripe, but it’s close. I’ll run an iodine test before we begin picking.”

  “Jacob said you have a team of pickers ready to flood the orchard when you need them.”

  “Everything seems to be going well.” And part of it was because he’d stayed focused on his tasks rather than being distracted by helping Catherine with her latest crisis.

  But how was she faring? The question stabbed deep, and he did the only thing he knew to do. Ignore it.

  Jacob’s mare thundered to a stop. “You do not play fair, Rhodes.”

  She glanced at him, mocking disgust. “Samuel, your brother refuses to speak honestly.”

  “How was that not straightforward?” Jacob gasped for air.

  “What you mean is that I cheat.” Rhoda raised an eyebrow. “Admit it, man.”

  Jacob chuckled but said nothing.

  Rhoda pulled the apple to her face and breathed in deeply. “Delicious.”

  “Gala, actually,” Jacob countered.

  She mimicked throwing it at him before handing it back to Samuel. Maybe he should wrap it and mail it to Catherine.

  Rhoda glanced behind her, and Samuel saw Landon coming toward them on a pony, its little legs going as fast as it could. “Jacob, did you stick him with the pony so you could try to catch up with me?”

  “Hey, you’re the one who stole my horse and took off before I had this one bridled. Landon said he was going to hang around the barn until you got back. He must’ve changed his mind.”

  She slid off the Morgan and passed the reins to Samuel. “I’ll be back in a few.” She walked toward Landon.

  Samuel looked at his brother. “So you’ve completely tossed out the window any attempt to keep a professional distance?”

  “Not at all.” Jacob got off his horse. “If not for my agreement with you to keep everything professional until the harvest is over, I’d have made it clear to her that I’d like us to court.” Jacob slapped the end of the reins against the palm of his hand. “Do you blame me?”

  “No.” Samuel clutched the apple in his hand. “I understand. And I’m glad you’ve finally found someone you’re interested in.”

  Samuel watched Rhoda meet up with Landon. The young man slid off his pony, and the two of them began walking toward the brothers.

  Jacob turned his back to them. “You’ve always respected my privacy and not asked questions, so if you want the same in return, just say so.” Jacob looked Samuel in the eyes. “I’ve not seen Catherine in weeks, and you’ve not left to go see her.”

  “Ya.” Samuel inspected the apple in his hand as if it might hold the answers he needed. “I haven’t seen or talked to her in almost two weeks. The saddest part is that for every single thing I miss about her, I have an equal number of things I’m relieved not to have to deal with. And I fear I’ll stop missing her before I’m ready to give up the breathing space.”

  “I hate it for you.”

  “I appreciate that. And if you ever want to talk again, like we were doing before she interrupted us, just let me know.”

  “Will do.” He mounted his horse. “I have to get back. That quick dry concrete should be set by now.”

  Samuel motioned for Landon. They needed to work on mending ladders and apple crates. There’d be no time for such things once the harvest began and the pickers arrived.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  Catherine pulled the carriage into Samuel’s driveway. She’d been too demanding, and Samuel wasn’t one to be pushed too far. Surely he was as ready for them to make up as she was. No sooner had she stopped the carriage than Hope came sprinting across the lawn toward her, yapping like crazy. Catherine got out and knelt in the grass, nuzzling her soft fur. “Did you miss me, sweetie?” She rubbed the pup’s fluffy ears. “I sure missed you.”

  She hadn’t allowed herself to come by for a visit but had spent two weeks mulling over her last argument with Samuel. Look in the mirror, Catherine. Figure out what’s going on with you, because I can’t keep doing this. The challenge had hurt, even though it was exactly what she needed to hear.

  She’d pondered a thousand things during their time apart. And as she did, she began to appreciate that he gave her time to think on her own, neither breaking up with her nor insisting she immediately change.

  Samuel was a wise man, and she looked forward to being in the circle of his guidance for the rest of her life. She’d worked through so many confusing thoughts, enough to drive a sane girl crazy. But now her mind was clear, and she had peace.

  Grieving the loss of being the only young woman in Samuel’s life had taken time, and it could easily be something she’d deal with for the rest of her life. She’d finally admitted to herself that it wasn’t for Arlan’s sake that she had told him Leah was pregnant. She’d done it out of spite. It had irked her to see how much Leah seemed to get away with. But Catherine had been petty and had betrayed Samuel’s strong sense of loyalty when she lied about Leah. She’d done damage. But how much?

  She sighed and gave Hope a final pat, then returned to the buggy and took out the insulated carrier she’d brought. Finding the front door of the house open, Catherine poked her head inside and sang out a greeting.

  “In here,” Samuel’s Mamm called from the living room.

  Catherine found her on the sofa, holding a copy of Die Botschaft, an Amish newspaper. She set the paper on an end table beside an empty water glass and stood. “I haven’t seen you around much lately. Is everything all right between you and Samuel?”

  “We hit a little rough patch.” Catherine smiled. “But I think we’re going to be fine now.”

  Elizabeth nodded at the insulated carrier. “Nothing a special blueberry pie can’t fix, ya?”

  “That’s the hope.”

  Samuel’s Mamm picked up her water glass and headed toward the kitchen. “He’s out in the orchard, probably in the summer kitchen. Would you like something to drink?”

  “Yes, please. Summer kitchen?”

  “You know, that abandoned stone building.” Samuel’s mom opened the icebox and pulled out a pitcher of lemonade. “Used to belong to the Daadi Haus.”

  Catherine had seen the structure in passing and wondered about it. She’d always figured it was used as a tool or equipment shed. “What’s he doing there?”

  Samuel’s mother filled two glasses. “He and Jacob have been remodeling it. Putting in appliances, hooking up the plumbing, even setting up a little bedroom.”

  Catherine’s heart leaped. She could think of only one reason Samuel would do all that work, especially this close to apple harvest. He’d come to the same conclusion she had during their time apart: that they were meant to be together. And he’d figured out a way to build a home for them.

  If she remembered correctly, the l
ittle stone building wouldn’t exactly be spacious. But how much room did they really need? It’d be a fine starter home, a place for them to live while Samuel worked on a bigger house.

  He had to be as excited as she was to start their married life.

  Catherine took a few gulps of the lemonade, thanked Samuel’s Mamm, and hurried out the back door, cradling the pie carrier in her arms. Her legs couldn’t move fast enough. She could hardly wait to see Samuel, to tell him about her insights and the repentance she’d come to. In their time apart, Catherine had realized it wasn’t Samuel’s place to fix everything for her, not even Arlan. She had to rely on God and find peace within herself.

  If Arlan ended up leaving the Amish, she’d miss her only sibling something fierce. But she wouldn’t expect Samuel to stop Arlan. Soon they’d be married and raising children together, and that would be all she’d need.

  The old stone building came into view. It had a roof now, and the missing walls had been rebuilt. Catherine picked up her pace, hoping the pie she carried would survive intact. Although Samuel cared more about the taste than the appearance, she wanted everything to be perfect when they saw each other and ended this time apart, never to separate again.

  As she neared the summer kitchen, panting from exertion and excitement, she heard Samuel talking. Oh, how she’d missed his deep, rich voice. Almost as much as she’d missed his welcoming warm embrace. And his lips on hers as he said good night before he returned to his carriage.

  The sound of a woman’s voice stopped Catherine a few feet from the building. She slowed her breathing to listen more carefully. It was Rhoda Byler’s voice. What was she doing here?

  Perhaps Samuel wanted a female’s opinion on how to fix up their little newlywed cottage. Scolding herself for being suspicious, Catherine moved a few steps closer.