“Maybe.” If she had the letter and knew what the exact question was, she would have some idea what to tell her. It’d be easier to tell Iva to call back later, but if she took a few minutes with her now, it’d keep Samuel from having to deal with it later. “Can you hang on while I locate your letter?”
“Sure. And denki.”
The girl sounded as hopeful as she did nervous. Leah dug through the piles of stuff and uncovered a new work schedule Samuel had made out. Clearly he intended for them to hire more help, because the schedule had everyone’s name on it, plus several question marks for a new worker or two. But that was something her brother needed to discuss with Rhoda before any plans could be put into place. Just one more item in limbo. But did it have to be that way?
What were Samuel, Rhoda, and Jacob waiting on anyway, the office to crumble under their feet?
Ah! Here was Iva’s letter. It wasn’t even opened. Of course not. It was addressed to Rhoda, and Samuel’s hands were tied about such matters until he and Rhoda were working together again. Jacob had never made decisions concerning the orchard. He’d always said that when it came to the orchard, he was there only to offer ideas and support.
Leah opened the letter and scanned it. Iva wanted to work for Kings’ Orchard, at least until fall. Hmm.
But the return address was Indiana. That was quite a ways from Maine.
Still, maybe the answer to keeping the office afloat and Leah from having to do laundry and dishes before starting the rest of the day’s work was staring her in the face. Since the others weren’t making these decisions, maybe she should.
Then again, maybe she should leave everything alone. But how could she do nothing while the family business staggered because no one was making any decisions?
What this new settlement needed, if indeed they were going to be a settlement and not become a lost tribe, was a few more workers—preferably women to help with the meals and laundry. Besides, it couldn’t hurt to have a single woman or two sashaying around to remind her brothers there were other fish in the sea. Maybe that reminder would be all that was needed for them to stop feuding over the same woman.
Leah’s eyes widened at the thought. Was it possible? Could the issue between Rhoda, Samuel, and Jacob be that she was the only available Amish woman in this new settlement?
“Iva?”
“Ya?”
Leah’s mouth went dry. She could get in serious trouble for what she was about to do, but if it had even a chance of helping to ease the stress around here, it’d be worth living in the doghouse for a year.
“How soon can you get here?”
Three kerosene lanterns, hanging on rusty nails inside the dark barn, cast a glow as Jacob wired new lights for a carriage. The radiance from the lamps flickered against the weathered walls of the old building, barely illuminating his work. It was still dark outside.
Last night when he went by Leah’s bedroom to tell her good night, she said that Rhoda had worked by herself that day, and Leah asked if he’d seen her. He hadn’t. It had been his goal not to see her, and it was easy to miss someone on an eighty-acre farm, sixty acres of which were filled with apple trees. The difficulty came in finding someone when you were searching for them. But he knew Leah’s question held hope.
When things went wrong, as they had with Rhoda, all his words got lost inside him. If words burrowed deep, it didn’t matter what he wanted to say or how much he wanted to speak up, he was mute.
But it wasn’t his inability to deal with what had happened between Samuel and Rhoda that kept him silent while she moved out. It was that he wanted Rhoda as far from Samuel as possible.
He’d begun repairing and refurnishing this rig within a few days of her leaving, and now it was done.
Finally.
It made no sense for her to traipse almost a mile through the woods each way to get to the orchard from the Cranford’s house. Besides, it was past time he showed up there and asked Rhoda to go for a buggy ride. Whether he felt ready or not to hear what she had to say, they needed to talk.
He tested the turn signals. They worked now. Everyone had avoided using a horse and buggy since they’d arrived in Maine almost seven months ago. The carriages had been damaged in the move, making them difficult to steer. They also needed new shocks and better lights. With the heavy snow, rain, and fog, he felt as if Rhoda would be taking her life into her hands to drive these narrow roads in a buggy, especially since the people around here weren’t accustomed to having a horse and carriage on the road. Regardless of what Samuel thought, Rhoda was far safer walking through the woods until Jacob had the rig in good order.
His musings stopped cold when he heard a door slam. No one left the house until dawn, and it was still dark outside. He grabbed the buggy by the whiffletree and pushed the rig into its stall. The rigs had to be fixed, regardless of Rhoda’s situation, but he didn’t want Samuel to know what he was doing, and Jacob was sure that’s who was prowling around at this time of the morning. He quickly put away his tools and extinguished one of the lanterns.
Jacob went to the bale of hay he’d tossed down from the loft earlier. Samuel stepped into the barn, glanced at Jacob, and went to the office. This was their relationship now. Acting as if they didn’t see each other. Not speaking for concern of what would be said … or done. Eating at different times because they couldn’t tolerate sitting at the table together.
It couldn’t go on this way.
Jacob grabbed some hay and began feeding the horses.
Samuel came out of the office and walked toward him holding two rolls of flagging. “The fog is as thick as pea soup. Even when the sun comes up, I doubt it’ll burn off before lunchtime.” Samuel set the flagging on a beam near him and returned to the office.
Jacob gritted his teeth. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to cram the rolls down Samuel’s throat or go on about his business.
Hadn’t he dealt with enough betrayal? He’d spent months away from home, away from Rhoda, trying to help Sandra, a woman he’d considered a friend. But right before Jacob came home, his lawyer had told him that he believed Sandra had spent the last few years lying to him, using him, and maybe even setting him up to take the fall for her illegal activities.
Jacob sighed. He wasn’t sure what to call Sandra anymore—although a few names came to mind. He once called her a friend. He then called her his mission work, someone from his days among the Englisch who deserved better than life had dished out. She needed his support. But how had he allowed his life to get so intertwined with hers years ago that he had to move back home and hide among the Amish to keep them both out of court?
He tried to be invisible. But invisibility was a double-edged sword. He’d spent years working to be exactly that. But in his worst imaginings of what life might throw at him, he never dreamed that he would become invisible to Rhoda while trying to hide from the judicial system.
He had come home emotionally beaten and bruised, drowning in anger and the humiliation of having been duped. What he had needed was hope and the companionship of the woman he loved.
Then he’d stepped into this barn to discover his brother was after his girl—and apparently had kissed her. Was Rhoda in love with Samuel? Could Jacob win her back? If he could, how much of her heart would still belong to Samuel … and for how long?
He yanked up the rolls of flagging. Samuel had asked him to mark the path between Camilla’s and the barn time and again since Rhoda had moved out. But Jacob had a different plan. A better one. He glanced out the door. Fog rolled across the yard. He should have gotten the rig to Rhoda before today, but when it was a respectable time of the morning and when Samuel went into the orchard, Jacob would drive the rig to Camilla’s. He couldn’t stand the idea of his brother knowing anything about his life or plans. He had no clue what would come of finally talking with Rhoda, but for better or worse, it was time he did so.
He walked into Samuel’s office and set the rolls of flagging on his desk. “When it comes
to Rhoda, you need to mind your own business.”
Samuel studied Jacob for a moment before lowering his eyes to the mounds of work on his desk, looking repentant. He picked up a pen and reached for a stack of papers. “That’d be my preference.”
Jacob grabbed the rolls and tossed them at Samuel. “You can get these out of sight. I’m not going to mark the trail.”
“Fine.” Samuel shoved them into his pocket before he pushed the flashing red button on the phone that indicated messages had been left.
“Jacob … please … I’m sorry … I know I was wrong … but we need to talk.” Sandra’s sobs rang through the tinny machine. “Ache-up …”—three-year-old Casey called to him—“I miss you. You there?”
Jacob’s head began to throb. He’d gladly boot Sandra out of his life, but he could never turn his back on Casey. His reason was the same today as it had been the night Casey was born: without Jacob, Sandra wasn’t strong enough to give Casey what she needed. Sandra came by her baggage honestly enough, and he doubted that anyone who’d survived all she had could cope any better. She’d had a difficult childhood, and he knew her bipolar issues often led to lies and poor decisions. He cringed at the thought of the word bipolar. But after years of knowing her, he had realized she wasn’t that different from others. Everyone lived with conflicting natures. And despite her disorder, she had far more value than even she knew.
Still, he wasn’t ready to talk to her.
The phone beeped, going to a second message. “This is Craig Ryer with the law office of Epps and McCarthy. I’m calling for Jacob King. Please have him call me as soon as possible.”
As soon as possible? Jacob didn’t like the sound of that.
Concern flickered through Samuel’s eyes as he punched the button to reveal the caller’s phone number. “The battery’s dead. His number doesn’t show up, and he didn’t leave one.”
“I know how to reach him.”
“Then I’ll leave you to it.” Samuel stood.
“It’s not like the lawyer’s office is open this time of day.” Jacob wasn’t sure why he was telling Samuel anything except to rattle him enough to get the truth about Rhoda out of him.
Samuel nodded. “When you talk to him, I hope he has good news for you.”
“Do you?” Jacob knew he was being condescending, and he waited for Samuel to snap back at him. But Samuel just stood there, clearly thinking hundreds of things he would not say aloud.
Jacob had left Rhoda time and again over the last six months, either to make sure he was flying below the radar so he didn’t bring any trouble onto his own head or to keep from bringing more speculations and accusations down on Rhoda during her recent legal troubles. Each time he left, Samuel pushed Jacob to see a lawyer to get free of what dogged him so he could build a life with Rhoda.
Unfortunately, what Jacob found out didn’t give him any type of freedom, and his staying away until he could see the lawyer only afforded Samuel more time alone with Rhoda. But in all Jacob’s struggles, he never once thought his brother and his girl would fall into each other’s arms.
Samuel had no idea what he’d done.
None.
Samuel drew a deep breath. “This thing with the lawyer or Sandra, is there anything I can do?”
“No. And before you do anything else to help, let me know so I can just walk off a cliff or something.” Jacob was going to keep jabbing at Samuel until his brother exploded. It was his only chance of figuring out what had happened—and what still existed—between Samuel and Rhoda.
Samuel’s face tightened, a sign he was fighting with his temper. “I’m trying to be patient.”
“Well, that’s real good of you since you are in the wrong.”
Sandra and her little girl had been so sick at Christmastime that Jacob had abandoned Rhoda again to help them. If he’d been able to stay home, he’d planned to ask Rhoda to marry him.
Would she have said yes?
He used to think their relationship was a gift from God. Now he didn’t know what to think—other than he was a fool not to realize that Samuel would betray him for a chance with the most beautiful, amazing woman Jacob had ever known.
“Look, I know you don’t want to hear anything I have to say, but you can’t leave things as they are with Rhoda. Talk to her. She—”
Jacob held up his hand. “Spare me your assurances of her love for me.” He wanted to talk to her, and yet he dreaded finding out the truth. What if she wanted Samuel instead of him? Then what?
Samuel grimaced. “We can’t keep going like this.” He gestured to the paperwork on his desk. “Neither the business nor the settlement can survive what’s happening with the three of us. I regret my actions completely, but are you going to destroy Kings’ Orchard over them?”
“I don’t care what happens to your precious family business. It means as much to you as Rhoda does to me, and it’d serve you right to lose it.”
“Is that attitude supposed to shock me?” Samuel yanked off his felt hat. “Since you were fourteen and left the farm to apprentice as a carpenter, you’ve been busy escaping from the family business—until you had nowhere else to run.”
“At least I wasn’t running into the arms of someone else’s love.”
Samuel turned red. “I know what I did. You can stop browbeating me with it. Put your energy into talking to Rhoda. Whether you want to admit it or not, if you ruin your relationship with her because you’re angry with me, you’ll have no one to blame but yourself.”
“Are you giving me advice or a warning?”
“Jacob,”—Samuel’s voice was calm, but his taut, flushed face didn’t hide his volatile emotions—“this incident is crippling all communication and planning. We’re getting too little done, and apparently Rhoda isn’t going to talk to me about the business unless you’re okay with it. Our family and our community back home are supporting this venture with prayer and money. So is Rhoda’s family. They believe in us, and they believe this settlement is the start of something that will benefit Amish families for hundreds of years. But if we don’t work this out soon, our business won’t survive. If that’s what you want—to ruin this new venture because I deserve that—it’s fully within your power to do it.” Samuel headed for the door of the office and then paused. “If that’s how it’s going to be, could you let me know as soon as possible? The best time to sell a property is in the spring, and since the trees will bud soon, spring would be the ideal time to catch a buyer’s eye.”
With that, Samuel walked out.
Disbelief shrouded Jacob like fog, hampering his ability to see more than a few feet in front of him. It seemed no matter what he did to figure out the bond that existed between Samuel and Rhoda, he only made the situation worse. He went to a window and watched as his brother disappeared into the dark, misty night, walking toward the orchard.
He’d only been sure of one thing in his life—through thick and thin, Samuel had always been on his side.
Until now.
THREE
Tell them.
The whisper echoed through the dark guest room. Rhoda stood in front of the full-length mirror, bathed in the soft glow of a night-light, a long braid dangling down her back while she tied her black apron. Sleep continued to elude her.
A reflection of shadows behind her shimmied against the wooden floor as if a window were open and a breeze were blowing them around. An eerie sensation crept up her spine. She was picking up on something just outside the physical realm. God was all around His people, trying to woo and warn and encourage. Was this also Him? She remained in place, tempted to give in to the odd feeling. What would happen if she yielded? Would she discover it was nonsense, or would her mind be opened to whatever she had almost perceived since the first night she arrived in Maine?
She closed her eyes.
Tell them I exist. A little girl’s voice pleaded with her. I need their …
Chills ran up Rhoda’s spine and fear gripped her as her father’s kind, au
thoritative voice reminded her: “Remember the slave girl from the Bible, Rhoda. This ‘gift’ may well be a temptation to sin. Pray hard against it, child.”
But what if her Daed was wrong?
She used to find comfort in her Daed’s belief that if he was wrong to try to stop her intuitions, God would hold him responsible, not her. Was that still true even though she was twenty-three and no longer living under her Daed’s roof?
Tell …
Fear stole her breath—whether of the unknown or of angering God, she wasn’t sure. She forced air into her lungs. “Stop.” Rhoda’s loud whisper echoed through the room.
She grabbed her hairpins and prayer Kapp off the nightstand and scurried out of the room. The house was dark except for the odd blue and red glows coming from a few electronic gadgets.
Once in Camilla’s dining room, Rhoda went to the hutch and found an emergency candle and matches. She missed the warmth of the farm’s kitchen with its large, open fireplace. No matter how early the day started, she enjoyed the lively conversations that took place around the table—even the heated discussions between her and Samuel. At least then he’d been willing to face her and stand his ground.
Refusing to think about Samuel, she put the candle in a holder and lit it. She removed from the hutch the stacks of new recipes she’d been working on and set them next to the copies she’d made of her great-great-grandmother’s apple canning recipes.
Long before Rhoda was born, her Mammi Byler had ten or so apple trees she tended on the same property where Rhoda had grown up. The trees were gone, but when Rhoda met Samuel, she’d been excited by the idea of sharing these recipes with him. Rhoda’s one-acre fruit garden had all types of berries—strawberries, raspberries, blueberries, blackberries—but she hadn’t canned apple products.
She soon discovered she couldn’t find her grandmother’s recipe book. So her sisters-in-law began hunting for the recipes. By then her stormy relationship with Samuel and Kings’ Orchard had reached the point where she needed to decide whether she would partner with them. When, after some difficulty, her sisters-in-law found the recipes, Rhoda believed it was a sign to partner with the Kings. Samuel and Jacob remodeled an old summer kitchen on their property and turned it into a canning kitchen. But they had little more than a week of harvesting and canning before the tornado came through.
For Every Season Page 3
