Seasons of Tomorrow

by Cindy Woodsmall

  When Leah’s tears finally subsided, she pulled free of the pillows and sat up. She wiped her face and straightened her crumpled clothes before going to the closet to find her suitcase. Fresh tears welled, but she put the traveling bag on her bed and opened it.

  She heard a car door slam and went to the window. Landon was leaving? How much time had passed since she locked herself in her bedroom? Surely it wasn’t even lunchtime yet. Had someone sent him home, or was he leaving because he was sick of the drama—her drama?

  They still had a little time. It sounded as if Rhoda and Samuel would fight for her to have an evening of talking with Landon and saying good-byes. Surely he’d return in an hour or two, and they’d spend the rest of the time talking—even if her Daed insisted a chaperone go along.

  Her complaint that he didn’t want to marry her wasn’t true, was it? She could hardly blame him if it was. Time and again her emotions built up inside her like a thunderstorm. When they did, she lashed out with what she felt at that moment, not necessarily what she really believed or thought.

  While she was staring at the yard and driveway, Samuel, Steven, and her Daed emerged from under the roof of the porch and traipsed to the barn. Had Rhoda and Samuel helped her Daed make plans to take her home, or were they honestly just as caught by the circumstances as she was?

  She sighed. Her Daed had left her no choice. Either she went home with him, or Landon had to leave, and Landon was needed around here more than she was. Actually, everyone else, including Steven and even Jacob when he was here, fell into place somewhere below the anchor of the trio of Rhoda, Samuel, and Landon.

  But before she finished packing to return to Pennsylvania, she had to talk to Landon. She grabbed the phone out of her pocket and texted him: What just happened? How did we end up arguing as if we’re enemies?

  Surely he’d respond in typical Landon form—understanding and unwavering in his love.

  While waiting on him to answer, she watched as Steven drove a wagon carrying large cans of oil mixture out of the barn and into the orchard. Since her grandfather Apple Sam was a young man, the Kings had taken great care of their apple orchards, tending to them organically regardless of the amount of work that required. The Amish were often good stewards of the land, but they’d break her heart and dismantle her future because she didn’t view life as they did?

  Samuel and Daed rode out of the barn on horseback, going a different direction than Steven. Where was Rhoda?

  At least they were leaving Leah alone for a bit. But their goal was no secret—to give her space to make the right decision to obey her father.

  She clutched the phone. Why hadn’t Landon answered her? She texted him again: Hello? She waited. Had he turned off his phone?

  Or was he simply through responding to her at all?

  Someone tapped on the door. “Leah, may I come in?” Rhoda’s voice trembled.

  Leah turned the lock, and when she opened the door, she saw a rarity—Rhoda’s eyes glistening with tears.

  Rhoda forced a smile. “I’m sorry.” A sob broke from her before she pursed her lips and drew a deep breath. “I never thought …”

  Leah went to the closet and pulled three dresses off the hangers at one time. She didn’t want to hear anyone’s apology. “I’m packing now so that when Landon returns, I have nothing else to do but spend time with him.” She grabbed a stack of underwear out of a drawer. “What time do Daed and I leave here tomorrow?”

  Rhoda moved in closer. “Leah … honey, you can stay.”

  Leah dropped the underwear, and her puny strength seemed to melt like wax. “What do you mean?”

  Rhoda took her by the shoulders and helped her sit on the bed. She knelt beside her. “I … I think it’s Landon’s gift to you.”

  “A gift?” As realization dawned, Leah ran from the room, down the stairs, and to the front yard. What was she searching for? She’d seen Landon leave! But her head was spinning, and she couldn’t make out one clear thought.

  Rhoda followed her.

  “Where is he?”

  Rhoda pulled his phone out of her hidden pocket. “He’s gone.”

  Leah snatched his cell from Rhoda and ran for the barn. He’d be at his granny’s. She knew he would. She jerked the landline out of its cradle and dialed Erlene’s house. But no one picked up.

  Rhoda came to the doorway of the office.

  “Why?” Leah knocked a container of pencils off the desk. “Tell me why he would do this.”

  Rhoda shrugged one shoulder. “He got really angry with all of us.”

  “What was said after I went to my room?”

  Rhoda shrugged again but said nothing.

  Leah plunked into the office chair. “It was me, wasn’t it? I’m the one who said something that made him leave like this.” She tried to think of all she’d screamed at him before slamming the door and locking it.

  Her heart pounded, and the room continued to spin as fragments of complaints against him returned to her. She couldn’t recall her exact words, but she remembered the essence of what she’d said—that she believed he didn’t love her and that he was unwilling to jeopardize his chance of becoming a partner.

  Along with her heartache, shame engulfed her, and she longed to turn back the hands of time.

  What had she done?

  THIRTEEN

  Early morning light streamed through the clouds as Jacob drove the wagon toward Esther’s. The sunshine breaking through the white billows looked as hopeful as he felt of late. He had a second wind. A new optimism. Maybe because April began a couple of days ago and the air was filled with sunlight and promises of spring. Or maybe he felt great because of opening up with Esther as they worked side by side for hours on Monday. If talking to someone made a person feel this much better, he shouldn’t have spent his life avoiding it.

  He pulled into her driveway and saw her through the double-wide doors of the shed—coatless and with the littlest one strapped to her back. Even though it’d warm up to near sixty later today, right now it had to be close to forty degrees. But she tended to move quickly, and the cool temperature probably felt just right. Her little boy appeared bundled up enough for both of them.

  An old door rested on two sawhorses, and it had various crates on it, as if the door was being used for a workbench or desk. She appeared to be looking through one of the crates for something when she glanced up. Coming to the door of the shed, she motioned to him with one hand and pointed with the other, directing him to the right spot to park. He saw the stack of wood flooring and made a wide loop with the horse, aiming to get the wagon directly in front of the wood.

  After seeing the wood floors at Bailey’s ironwork shop a couple of days ago, he had an opportunity to talk to the owners of the homes later that day. One owner wasn’t interested in anything old, but the other one had already planned to use a turn-of-the-century country look in her décor. So the woman jumped at the chance to have repurposed flooring installed. She also wanted to know if he could get hold of antique hearths for the two fireplaces and something she called pilaster doorways.

  He didn’t know what that was, but since he had the roster of all the contractors who’d worked on the houses, he’d called Bailey’s shop. Esther was gone for the day, but Bailey gave him the number to Esther’s phone shanty. Jacob left a message, and thankfully she returned his call within a few hours.

  Although Esther kept most of her wood flooring at the warehouse, she’d told him to meet her at the shed this morning, and she’d have the needed supplies. They discussed everything the homebuyer was interested in except the pilasters. He wasn’t even sure he was pronouncing it right, so he figured a face-to-face with Esther about it would be best.

  He had six days to get the houses ready for the owners to do a walk-through. Then he’d need a couple of days to work the punch lists that delineated what still had to be done before the final inspection. After that he would turn over the keys and the responsibilities of the houses to the Realtor and
head for Sandra’s place.

  With the wagon in place, he set the brake and hopped down. “Morning.”

  Esther looked up, a welcoming smile gracing her face. The little one on her back grinned at him, opening and shutting his mittened hand.

  “Hi.” Still favoring her knee, Esther moved a crate from the workbench door to a shelf. She dug through the container in search of something. “I’ve gathered all the hard pine I could since we talked, but I’m not sure it’ll be enough to do all the homeowner wants.”

  Jacob eyed the pile. She must have collected more since they first talked in November, or she’d been mistaken about how much she had. The stack was enough to cover three to four hundred square feet, and if he got the contractors to patchwork brick around the edges, he might be able to do the foyer also. “It’ll do. Maybe the owner will like the idea of supplementing with brick. I’ll check, but I can’t get brick in this load.” The horse would struggle under that added weight.

  “This is quite exciting.” Her brown eyes sparkled. “You should’ve come through town and run over me years ago.”

  Jacob laughed. “My apologies.” He started loading the wagon. “You have more flooring than I expected.”

  “Ya.” She began looking through the crates again, shifting items from one container to another. “But you should see the bathrooms in the Daadi Haus where the girls live and the front hall of my Mamm’s house.”

  “You stripped the floors of their covering?”

  “I did.”

  He imagined the subflooring looked pretty rough where she’d pulled up the hardwood, but linoleum was an inexpensive fix, and if she could lay the hardwood, she could certainly lay linoleum. He wasn’t sure how he felt about her making that sacrifice in order to earn money, but the concept itself was amusing. “Is that sort of like pulling a rug out from underneath someone’s feet?”

  “Worse. I pulled the floor out from underneath pregnant women and my aging, widowed mom.” She gave an evil laugh.

  He chuckled. “Do me a favor and remind me to watch where I’m standing when I’m around you.”

  When he slowed down enough to realize how much he liked her, it scared him. The connection between them was different from anything he’d experienced before. Not only was he able to open up to her, but he didn’t feel compelled to be funny or entertaining. They were relaxed, and yet they got a lot done. He glanced her way. “What are you searching for?”

  “One guess.”

  “You’ve lost more doorknobs?”

  She nodded.

  He nailed a red handkerchief to the end of the wood to alert cars that the load extended beyond the wagon bed. “Is that similar to losing your marbles?”

  “Definitely. And they aren’t just any doorknobs, either. They’re perhaps the best I’ve ever collected. I’ve had them for more than ten years, and I thought they were stored with the other really great ones—in individual, labeled boxes in my bedroom closet—but I can’t locate a particular set.”

  “You have some that you keep in their own boxes with labels? Did you surround them in bubble wrap to boot?”

  “Tissue paper.”

  He stopped and stared at her, shaking his head. “You’re serious?”

  “Go ahead, laugh. As Ammon always says, I’m about a set of doorknobs off-center of normal.” Her eyes widened. “Dora.”

  Jacob looked behind him, thinking she was heading his way. He hated to admit it even to himself, but he liked Esther so much more than her younger, single sister.

  Esther put both hands on the sides of a crate, staring into the box. “Several years ago Dora helped me box up my favorite doorknobs to store, and I forgot that we stored some in her closet.” Esther moved the crate to a shelf. “Maybe that’s where they are.” She turned to him. “When are you leaving town again?”

  “That was a quick change in the subject. Nine days from today.” He put the last board on the wagon. “I need to look at the old hearths we talked about Monday and take some pictures of them. If they aren’t what the owner is looking for, I’ll build them myself.”

  “A cell-phone picture won’t show your buyer the beauty of the wood grain or the intricacies of the carvings. I’ll get Bailey or one of his delivery-men to haul them to the house. If she doesn’t like them, we’ll bring them back. I’ll send the brick at the same time. Tomorrow around noon?”

  “Sounds like a great plan.” Since her suggestion would give the best chance of selling the hearths, he wouldn’t object, but it did seem to be a lot of trouble. “She also asked if you have something called a pilaster doorway. Any idea what that is?”

  “Pilaster doorway?” Esther finally stopped what she was doing and looked at him. “A pilaster is a faux column that projects a few inches from a wall. It’s for aesthetics only, but why would someone using country or colonial décor want fake columns?”

  “Maybe she said the wrong term.” Jacob went to the opening of the shed and gestured at the frame. “When she started describing it, I thought she wanted it to fit an open doorway, maybe like a molding of sorts, but she said what she wanted was much more ornate and covered some of the actual entryway.”

  “Oh!” Esther’s eyes lit up, and she went to a dusty file cabinet that sat on a dirt floor in the mostly open shed. “I’m not sure what the unit as a whole is called, but the base is a plinth, and the top is an arched entablature with fretwork, spindles, or scrolled brackets.” She pulled paper from a folder and held it out. “If this is what she described.” It was another ripped page from a magazine.

  “That is simply a very fancy door molding.” But the image Esther held up actually made sense. “Do you have one?”

  “No.” She looked at the page from the magazine. “I have two.” She smiled. “But they have a Victorian look, not country, and even if it’s what she wants, the dimensions won’t work. It’s a whole structure, like a doorframe.”

  “I can make it fit.”

  “Without ruining the authenticity of the piece?”

  “I think so. Got paper?” Jacob retrieved a carpentry pencil from his pants pocket.

  She pulled out several sheets of paper from the file cabinet, and Jacob laid them on top of the door that served as a workbench. He sketched his ideas, and they discussed possibilities for an hour. He proposed splitting the top center of the entablature and filling the void with ornate antique wood from a different piece, making it look as if the piece hadn’t been cut. As they stood there discussing ideas, he knew that this time would be the best part of his day. Of his week.

  Did she know the little one on her back had fallen asleep?

  Esther studied his crude drawings. “Your idea for making it fit while keeping most of its integrity borders on brilliant.”

  He chuckled. “I’m glad you think so.” He got his phone from his pocket. “I’ll send the homebuyer a few snapshots of the magazine picture.” But he’d wait until later in the day in case she was still asleep. “How much is each piece?”

  “When I salvaged it, I was hoping to get two hundred. But that was a few years back, so I’d go as low as half that.”

  He passed the magazine page back to her. “I’ll aim for two hundred. That sounds like a very fair price.”

  She put the page back in the file cabinet. “I can’t get free until Saturday, but would you mind if I came to the houses just to see them now that they’re almost finished?”

  Mind? If she were single, he’d already have asked her to come. “Saturday would be perfect. I’ll be there working, and your hardwood floors should be installed by then.” As they talked for a few minutes, he remembered some items of carpentry work that still needed to be done, and he typed notes into his phone. “I have a few ideas about trim work and such. Do you mind if I look through the warehouse when I have a chance?”

  “You’re welcome to whatever is there.”

  “Denki. And one last thing …” He finished typing and shoved the phone into his pocket. “Your knee is still hurting you all the
time, isn’t it?”

  “I really don’t—”

  “I know. You’ve made yourself clear.” He held up his hand. “You don’t want to have it seen. Everyone else’s needs are more important, and there is no time to deal with it, but answer one question, okay?”

  “I’ll try.”

  “Of all the people you know, who else would you treat this way?”

  Her brows knit. “I don’t understand.”

  “Is there anyone you would ask to be sick or in pain for even a week so that your day wasn’t interrupted?”

  She blinked, her face blank. “Jacob,”—the tremor in her whisper indicated he’d hit his intended target—“you’re completely right.”

  He’d been pondering for days how to make her see the situation as she needed to, so this felt really good. He got his billfold and pulled out all the cash he had. “Take this.” He counted it—$300. He also had a paycheck back at Noah’s house that he’d not cashed. “Whatever it doesn’t cover, I’ll give you soon.”

  “I can’t. My knee was injured before our incident.”

  “It was healing, and I injured it again.” He held out the money. “Please. It would mean a lot to me.”

  She reluctantly took it, her eyes expressing gratitude and admiration. “You’re one of the good ones, Jacob.”

  “Some days. Not so much on others.”

  The sound of a rig made them both look up. Dora drove a carriage onto the driveway. She hopped out, carrying a white plastic bowl with a lid. Despite her smile the taut look on her face indicated she felt awkward. “I was afraid I’d missed you, but you got the wood for the floors all loaded up, I see.”

  Jacob nodded. Esther had to have told her they were doing business, especially when she stole the floors from the home Dora shared with her Mamm and siblings.

  Jacob jiggled the strips of wood, making sure they were settled into place. “I did. So what kind of floor do you have in your bedroom, Dora?”

  “Red oak.”

  “How large is the room?”

  Esther chuckled. “Don’t answer that, Dora.”