“Rhodes?”
Jacob’s voice jolted her. She turned to see Steven, Samuel, and Jacob peering down at her from horseback. How had she not heard them approaching?
Jacob slid down and held out an orange. “Hungry?”
Not one of them was on a saddled horse. She peered around him, trying to give Samuel a warning look. She should’ve known that shutting off the two-way wouldn’t mean she’d be left alone.
Her chest tightened again, and breathing became even more difficult. “How did you find me?”
Jacob gave a slight nod toward the ground. “I listened.”
She glanced down and noticed the dogs were panting. Clearly Ziggy and Zara had raced toward them, barking, and she hadn’t heard that either.
Jacob tossed her the orange.
She grasped it, trying not to squeeze the life out of it. “Next time I’ll tether the dogs to the cart and duct tape their snouts.”
Jacob covered his mouth and barked, a muted, pitiful sound, then patted the dogs. “Mommy didn’t mean it, guys.”
She knelt and rubbed the dogs’ ears. “I would never do that to Ziggy and Zara. But I might”—she glanced at Samuel—“to you.”
Samuel dismounted. “Then gag me and put me in the doghouse, but I needed to talk to you, and you turned off the two-way.”
Ready to ignore all three of them, she tossed the orange back to Jacob and turned to her handcart, wishing they would go away. She plucked a ragged square of an old sheet out of its box and wiped out the plastic container, removing even more dead moths. She hadn’t yet decided the best way to dispose of the trap mixture she’d poured into the trash can, but it couldn’t be dumped anywhere near the orchard or it would attract ants. And they’d infest the trees.
Without looking up from her work, she nodded toward the row of trees. “Since you’re here, would you mind going down the row on this side? Get the traps from the trees, pour the old mixture into the trash can, and use the scraps to wipe down the sides, getting out as many moths as possible. Okay?”
Jacob bent, meeting her eyes. “Hi.”
She swallowed, wishing her breathing were easier. “Hi, Jacob.” She caressed his cheek.
“If all the niceties are done …” Samuel dropped the reins, clearly trusting the horse to stay put.
“Is there a problem, Samuel?” Maybe sarcasm would get him to back off. If she had answers about the kitchen, she would have shared them.
“Lots of them.” He removed his hat. “But Landon came up with a plan about a canning kitchen that may settle one.”
She doubted he’d come up with one she hadn’t already thought of and ruled out as ridiculous. She finished wiping out the canister and tossed the gooey rag into a bin before she poured fresh molasses into the container.
“What is it?” When she glanced up, Emma was standing in the midst of the three men. She hadn’t seen Emma since talking with Landon about Samuel in the greenhouse three weeks ago.
It became even harder to breathe.
“Rhodes?” Jacob took her by the shoulders. “You okay?”
She didn’t dare pull away from him. It’d hurt him, and it would end up taking more time and effort than it was worth. Instead, she stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek. “Of course.” But she’d managed only a whisper. Why couldn’t she catch her breath?
Jacob brushed a wisp of hair from her face. Love—vast and powerful—radiated from him. He kept no secrets about that.
Samuel smacked his hat against his leg. “Landon said his granny had plans to go to Florida in August to help her sister. But she’ll leave a few weeks earlier and maybe stay a little longer so we can renovate her kitchen into a canning kitchen. I think we should consider it.”
“That’s the plan—to displace an elderly woman, take over her home, and make a profit?”
“Are you even listening? She’s leaving this summer and will leave a little early in order to help us.”
“Good heavens. She’s an elderly woman! If it’s not emotionally and physically exhausting enough to leave home to be a nursemaid to an ailing relative, we—people she’s known for less than a year—are going to ask her to leave weeks earlier and come home weeks later than she needs to. Are you serious?”
“Could you possibly manage to hear me out?” Samuel yanked his hat onto his head. “Or is that asking too much?”
“I did hear you, and I am being reasonable. She’s way too nice to say no. I’m not sure she could turn Landon down about anything even if her life depended on it. We’re not accepting her offer.”
“The least we can do is talk to her. If we pick up on any hesitation, any discomfort from her about changing her plans, then we politely and gratefully turn her down, but not before.”
“Samuel King, if—”
“You know,”—Jacob stepped back—“I think I should be helpful and do some work.” He winked at her and turned to Samuel. “You be nice.” He walked off, going toward the next tree to gather a trap. Steven went with him.
Why would Jacob come all this way and simply walk off, leaving her here to argue with Samuel, and why did she have so many feelings for Samuel when he was the most stubborn man she’d ever known?
Ignoring Samuel, she poured molasses and water into the container.
“Rhoda, you’re not even willing to have a conversation. What’s going on with you?”
His softer tone tapped into a dam of emotions, and tears threatened again. The truth? She’d rather argue with Samuel and be a part of the life on this farm than live anywhere else. But would staying here be fair to her relationship with Jacob?
Samuel snapped his fingers. “Hallo? If you can’t be open minded about Landon’s plan, then admit it, and let someone else decide for you.”
“Who’s going to decide? Steven? He has no clue what an orchard this size would need to get through one canning season, let alone years of it. Not yet, he doesn’t.” Thankfully, her frustration gave her a lungful of air. She poured yeast into the concoction and stirred. “Are you going to decide, Samuel? Or Jacob?” Her voice echoed off the hills, but at least she could breathe freely again. “Neither of you can see this issue clearly enough to have an answer. Your visions are blurred, each wanting different things from me.” She glanced at Jacob’s retreating back before taking the trap to the tree.
Samuel followed her. “Seems more like Jacob and I want the same thing.”
Her heart quickened. He’d spoken softly, almost through gritted teeth, but had he realized what he’d said?
She looked into his eyes, and for a moment she saw—felt—the torrent of love that raged within him. But the terrifying part was that she returned some of those feelings. Did hers match his?
He backed away. “I … I meant businesswise.”
Steven and Jacob continued down the row of trees, gathering traps. Did Jacob come out here to make sure he stood between Samuel and her? If so, he was clueless what was happening some fifty feet from him.
Jacob’s trust in her had been renewed. Part of her wished it hadn’t been, wished he was right by her side.
Trembling, she attached the homemade trap to its hanger, emotions beating against her as if she were a rock at the bottom of Niagara Falls.
Jacob was right. There was too much between Samuel and her. She turned to go back to the handcart.
Samuel grabbed her arm. At his touch Rhoda heard bells ringing. Some vague idea formed in her head. She looked from him to his hand.
He released her. “I’m sorry.” He fidgeted with his hat. “I … I shouldn’t have.” He walked toward his horse. “You and Landon talk to Erlene and then make a decision.”
Choose … Emma stood between Jacob and Samuel, although the men were quite a distance apart.
“Samuel.” Rhoda had barely managed a whisper, but she had so many questions she needed to ask him. He could make mud clear for her when he wanted to.
Why did Emma most often show up when he did? She even appeared when Landon was talki
ng to Rhoda about Samuel.
Samuel strode back to her.
“Why you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Remember the second or third night we were on this farm? Jacob was not yet here, and we didn’t know where he was, and I’d followed the sounds of an instrument and voices out to here. You found me staring into the woods and talking to myself.”
“Ya.”
“When I looked your way, I saw Emma behind you. I was disappointed she hadn’t stayed in Pennsylvania.”
“It’s not her.”
“We’ve established that, and the more I listen to my heart, the less Emma shows up. Except … with you. When I see you walking into the barn or across the orchard, she’s with you. Why?”
His earlier irritation seemed to evaporate. “Maybe because you told me she connected to your grief of losing her, so in that sense I understand something about you that no one else does.”
It sounded reasonable enough.
Samuel’s eyes reflected an apology, probably for fussing at her a few minutes ago. “Or when you see me, you’re reminded of her and all the times her image annoyed you. Maybe that’s it. I annoy you. She annoys you.” A faint smile graced his lips. “There’s the connection.”
But that wasn’t it.
While he stood there, she prayed, and awareness of what lurked in her heart gushed into her consciousness. She looked from Jacob to Samuel. As Jacob moved farther away, she wanted to cry out to God to help her. But as she stayed rooted in place, she realized her feelings for Samuel weren’t new. They’d been an unseen vine thriving on its own for a very long time—like brambles in wild.
But how had she not known her feelings for what they really were before now?
Choose … Emma’s voice was strong.
Her sister moved effortlessly to stand behind Samuel.
A commanding desire for a lifetime with Samuel filled Rhoda. Tortured her. A thirst for who Samuel and she could be made her knees go weak.
Emma smiled at her. “It’s time …”
And finally Rhoda understood what her heart had known even before she met Samuel. That he was the one.
But it was too late. When she’d met Samuel, he had a girlfriend. Rhoda had dealt with her disappointment and let Jacob into her heart.
“Samuel,”—she stared into his brown eyes—“I’m so sorry.”
He studied her, saying nothing.
But visions of Emma made sense now. When alive, Emma knew Rhoda, knew her hopes and dreams—all of them. When Emma died, Rhoda buried most of her heart with her sister. Rhoda went through life doing all she could to steer it where she thought it should go, refusing to listen to her own tender soul. So her subconscious conjured up Emma, the one who’d known and owned her heart for so long. Emma showing up was the only way Rhoda would pause even for a moment to try to hear.
Her sister faded into nothing. Rhoda didn’t need her anymore, and she wasn’t likely to see Emma again. Rhoda had finally heard what she’d been trying to say. But of everything Rhoda had experienced in life, this was the scariest—loving Samuel, the brother of a man who adored her.
All the pieces finally fit. In his own way, and unlike anyone else, Samuel had helped her put them together like a puzzle. He understood her. For all his determination to grab the bull by the horns and lead life where he wanted it to go, Samuel had the patience to be a truly great friend to her. A leader. A helper. A protector.
A husband.
The word choose came to mind again. What choice was there? Rhoda wanted to scream, “I have chosen!”
Samuel continued to study Rhoda, waiting patiently for her to wrestle with herself. Did Jacob even know this side of her, the one that had to fight to know herself?
She backed away. “What am I supposed to do?” Tears stung her eyes.
His silent stare was unnerving, and she imagined he understood far more than she wanted him to.
“He’s your brother, and I will not come between you. I will not injure the King family, the one God gave to your parents and they so carefully nurtured.” She swallowed and wiped a lone tear. If she had any control at all, that would be the last tear she would shed in front of Samuel. “Jacob loves me. He worked his way free from his past for me! He’s going through instruction to marry me. Do you understand?” She grabbed his arm, trembling. “I would rather die than hurt him.”
Samuel remained unmoving. He looked to his brother and then to her, and he nodded. “I understand. I have since the day I realized I loved you.” He swiped a hand across his watery eyes. “But—”
She fisted her hands. “I’ve made a mess of people’s lives since I was young. You want me to unleash that on your family?” Why was she saying more? He’d already agreed with her.
“But, Rhoda, if he’s not the one for you, then you’re not the one for him. But only you can decide that.”
She couldn’t stop her tears. “I have chosen, Samuel. I did so while you were courting Catherine.”
He closed his eyes. Seconds passed, maybe a full minute, before he finally nodded. He turned and walked to his horse.
Like watching the video clip about the orchard on Landon’s laptop, she saw what had to be done about the kitchen.
“Wait.” She peered across the blank space between the orchard and the woods. Beyond where she could see, she knew there was a perfect place for a kitchen. She heard the bells again. It was a timer going off. She could feel the heat from the stove. A shrill whistle pierced the air—a pressure cooker no doubt. “A kitchen. I know where we need to build it—on this property.”
“Now?” He gestured toward heaven, rolling his eyes. “After all this time, now you’re talking about the same basic plan as Bob and Camilla have been proposing?”
“It’s as much of a surprise to me as it is to you. But we’ve been waiting for me to know, and now I do. And all you want to do is stand here and argue about it?” She motioned for Samuel to give her a hand onto the horse. He linked his fingers together and hoisted her up. “Kumm.”
She trotted north toward the road, but they were a long way from it. “Jacob! Kumm.”
Samuel got on a horse, carrying the reins to the third horse to his brother. Steven seemed a bit lost, but she wasn’t worried. If he wanted to follow them, he’d walk. What had to be said needed to be in the presence of only the three of them—Samuel, Jacob, and herself.
She rode, her heart pounding with excitement. They went past the orchard and kept going to an area of the farm she’d never explored.
Her mind raced with snapshots of wagons filled with apples that were being unloaded at the door of the kitchen—just like last harvest before the tornado. She could see the canning kitchen, larger and laid out better than the summer kitchen in Pennsylvania.
“Whoa.” She pulled on the reins. “Here. It’s perfect—flat, not too close to the creek or the orchard. A driveway could be put in that leads to the road.” She got off the horse.
Samuel and Jacob did the same.
“A home could be built less than a half mile from this spot.”
“A house?” Samuel’s brows furrowed deeper. “Ya, I guess it could … eventually.”
Emotions choked her. She and Jacob couldn’t stay here in Maine. It didn’t matter that she loved this farm. Property could be replaced. A bond between brothers couldn’t.
Added to that, she did love Jacob. What they had seemed flawed in the light of all that had been hiding in her heart for Samuel. But that’s what commitment and loyalty were about—a love that went deeper than any emotional or temporal desires.
But Jacob and she could stay here through the first harvest. She’d train Leah or Iva. Or maybe the answer was to make Landon a partner. He could oversee the canning. Landon, Leah, and Iva combined would be a team she could train to replace her. Landon knew far more about the business and the recipes than he realized. If he was interested, what he lacked in know-how, he could learn in a matter of months.
Each harvest Rhoda
and Jacob could return for a few weeks. They’d stay long enough to oversee the operation, make sure it was running smoothly, and confirm that the product deserved the Byler and King label.
“It’s a good plan.” Samuel studied the lay of the land. “We can do it. Is it a problem accepting a loan from Bob and Camilla until we get the money from the Pennsylvania land?”
Rhoda felt a nudge inside her. “You should do as you see fit, Samuel.”
Jacob walked a section, heel to toe, and she knew calculations were zipping through his brain. “We’ll need to give the county a set of architectural plans to get a building permit. And we’ll have to allow time for county or state inspectors to approve certain phases, like before and after pouring concrete for the footers and the foundation. Then we can go to the next phase.”
Rhoda swallowed. By all outward appearance, Jacob seemed fine with her plan. The only way she knew he wanted off this farm is because he’d told her. She shook free of that thought and blocked the sun from her eyes, studying the tree line. They might need to move a bit closer to the road. They needed the canning kitchen as far from the orchard as possible. The aromas of the kitchen would attract insects, and then they’d find the orchard.
“Bob said the head of every department at the county courthouse is a friend, and he believes we can have the building permits in record time.” He’d barely mentioned that and other things one morning as she was leaving for the farm, and she hadn’t really understood what he’d been saying. How was it so very clear to her now?
“Gut. Sounds gut.” Samuel’s voice carried the rumble of a heartbroken man holding on to hope for the future. “Even so, I don’t suspect it’ll be operational during the first weeks of the harvest. Maybe we can find a cellar so the apples will keep.”
“We won’t need to.” As ideas poured into her, Rhoda could hardly look at either man. Had her outburst to Samuel only minutes ago caused her to betray both of them?
She shooed a gnat away from her face. “We’ll invite your family and mine and the Amish families that want to visit, and we’ll have an old-fashioned barn raising—only it’ll be a kitchen raising. A harvest kitchen.”
For Every Season Page 29
