For Every Season Page 12

  Rhoda stirred her coffee. “That’s really nice of you, but none for me. I’m not far from turning in for the night.”

  Bob sat in the wingback chair and started talking to Samuel.

  While the aroma of cake swirled in the air, an insight swept through Rhoda, and she saw Camilla making a cake for her son on his ninth birthday. But then snapshot after snapshot flashed in her mind as the boy grew into a young man. Emotions pounded like a force she imagined was reserved for the likes of Niagara Falls. Images continued to come at her. “Stop,” Rhoda hissed under her breath.

  All eyes turned to her.

  Mortified, Rhoda wasn’t sure what to say.

  Samuel set his coffee on the saucer. “I brought her some sobering news about her uncle’s health and how her Daed is feeling since he’s close to his brother. I’m sure her emotions are a bit unsettled. That’s all.”

  Bob cleared his throat, smiling. “We all deal with difficult news differently … So, Samuel, have you ever fished for salmon?”

  The conversation picked up again. Even Camilla joined in with the men. But the longer Rhoda sat there, the stronger she sensed she needed to do something. But what?

  She turned to Samuel. “It’s like the moments before the tornado came through.”

  Samuel studied her. “What is it about?”

  “Camilla.”

  Camilla set her cup and saucer on the coffee table. “Is everything okay?”

  Samuel nodded. “Sure. Except maybe we should have a slice of that cake after all. If you don’t mind.”

  “Cake it is.” The words leaving Camilla’s mouth and the look of doubt in her eyes didn’t match. “It’ll take us a few minutes.” She seemed unable to take her eyes off Rhoda as she and Bob left the room.

  Rhoda buried her head in her hands. “She thinks I’m a cracked pot.”

  “You came on really strong, talking to yourself, whispering to me when they could hear at least some of what you were saying.”

  She lived with these people. If she freaked them out like she did herself, where could she go?

  Samuel leaned in. “What’s happening?”

  Despite his excuse to Bob and Camilla that the news about her uncle was the reason for her behavior, he knew better.

  “She has a grandchild. I know she does, and she must wonder about it too, because she’s been searching the Internet for her deceased son’s girlfriend. She’s looking for someone named Jojo.”

  “And you just know this?”

  She nodded.

  His eyes were wide. “No wonder you have times of struggling with who you are. Of all the gifts God gives, this one is scary, and it feels dark.”

  Only Emma had viewed the gift as he did, and his words brought comfort. “Exactly. It scares me too.”

  “Sure it does.”

  “My Daed and the church leaders hate it.”

  “Are any of us comfortable with it? But God didn’t ask your Daed or the bishop or Jacob or me or even you what we thought about you having such a gift. I understand the concerns we feel. Scammers and profiteers often abuse such things.”

  “And the soothsayer slave girl in the Bible had a demon cast out of her.”

  “You shouldn’t worry about that part.”

  What? He’d said that so matter-of-factly. She wanted to yank him by his shirt collar and yell, Do you know what you’re saying? Instead, she measured her tone. “Why?”

  “We can’t disqualify what’s real because counterfeiters exist. If that were the case, there wouldn’t have been disciples or teachers of God’s Word.”

  “Why haven’t you told me before now that this is how you feel?”

  He shrugged. “We’re muddling through this while we’re talking, and I’m realizing some of this as we go. Look, you shouldn’t keep putting up roadblocks to receiving things. Haven’t you wondered why you didn’t pick up on what those girls were doing in the greenhouses before they lied, saying you laced your herbal teas with marijuana?”

  “Ya, sure. I still don’t know the answer.”

  “I’d like to take a stab. Is it because you suppress your gift to the point you won’t even read body language?” He paused, and when she didn’t answer, he continued. “God knows all and sees all. If He chooses to let you in on something, I think you need to relax and let yourself hear what He’s trying to tell you.”

  She’d spent her life trying to outrun the premonitions. Sometimes she succeeded. Other times she didn’t. Her heart pounded as his words echoed inside her. She would like to at least read body language. Then she’d understand Jacob better. “I keep seeing Emma.”

  “Related to the premonitions?”

  “No.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Completely. I have no doubts about that, and I know it’s not really her I’m seeing. The dead don’t return from heaven. But it’s been three years since she was murdered. Why can’t I get past whatever part of my grief makes me see her?”

  Compassion radiated from him. “I wish I knew, but if she’s not connected to your premonitions, why are you bringing it up now?”

  She shrugged. “Hoping you’d have an answer, I guess.”

  “Sorry. I’m clueless.”

  She fidgeted with one of the strings to her prayer Kapp. “I hate when something like this Jojo issue comes to me.”

  “You try so hard not to hear. Why not try hearing?”

  As if brought to life by Samuel’s encouragement, the word Dumont shouted inside her.

  Even after all Samuel had said, her gut reaction was to resist. She closed her eyes. “Because it’s terrifying, Samuel. And because I’d rather not know anything than give in to this and share what I think when I could be wrong.”

  “You have a gift for horticulture, and you don’t get all out of sorts when you’re wrong about some plant idea or you spend months trying to cultivate something that doesn’t work. You chalk it up to learning and keep going.”

  “This is completely different, and you know it.”

  “I doubt it’s as different as you think. You work with your plants and herbs, not against them. Try that with your sense of knowing. And trust that whatever else your gift is, it’s not evil.”

  Despite the avalanche of skepticism inside her against his reasoning, Samuel’s words rang with truth. She’d known that, and yet because her church leaders and family believed it was wrong, she only trusted herself to act on her premonitions when they overwhelmed her. Maybe now, armed with this new perspective, she could trust them more.

  Fresh caution waved its flag. Wasn’t it odd, maybe even inappropriate, for Samuel and her to be this close, not just physically, but emotionally and spiritually, after what had happened a few weeks back? She had needed answers, and he was good at helping her find them, but they should part now.

  “Denki, Samuel.” She tried to find her smile. “But you should eat the cake and go.”

  He gave a nod, as if he’d been thinking the same thing.

  Camilla walked in carrying two plates, each with cake and a fork. Bob was behind her carrying two plates also.

  Would they accept what she needed to say to them? Or would they consider her mentally unstable and ask her to move out?

  Rhoda stood. “Camilla, I need to tell you something.” She took the plates from her and set them on the coffee table.

  Camilla glanced at Samuel, a hint of suspicion flickering through her eyes. “Okay.”

  Rhoda drew a deep breath. “Since we talked about you having a son named Zachary, I think you’ve been looking for the girlfriend he had when he died.”

  “Have you been checking the browsing history on my computer?”

  “No, I wouldn’t do that and don’t even know how.” Nervous sweat trickled down her back. “Did you only know her as Jojo?”

  Bob set the plates in his hands on the table with the other ones. “What is she talking about, Camilla?”

  Her face turned ashen. “I … need some water, Bob. Would you mind?”<
br />
  He left the room, and Camilla eased onto the couch, staring up at Rhoda. “What you say is true. But I didn’t want Bob to know I’m trying to find Jojo.”

  “Maybe only your son called her that. It’s short for Joella, Joella Dumont, and I … I think you have a granddaughter.”

  Pain etched Camilla’s face. “No, Rhoda. Zachary was too young to marry without a parent’s consent. And there is no chance I might have a grandchild.” Tears welled. “Trust me. You’re wrong on both accounts.”

  Bob returned with a glass of water. “Is everything okay?”

  Camilla nodded. “We’re fine. Rhoda was mistaken. That’s all.”

  Rhoda trusted that Camilla fully believed there was no chance her son had married or that she had a grandchild, but she felt more convinced than ever that Camilla was the one who was mistaken.

  Rhoda wished her gift had told her more—something concrete she could share with Camilla to confirm she was right and to encourage Camilla to look for Jojo and her daughter.

  But for now Rhoda had pushed as hard as she dared. Any more pressure on Camilla, and Rhoda might put a wedge between herself and the Cranfords. It seemed the best thing she could do now was wait and hope she received more insight into the little girl.

  Rhoda picked up the two plates from the coffee table and passed one to Samuel. “This looks delicious.”

  THIRTEEN

  Jacob sat in the lawyer’s office, squeezing his fists. His hands shook as he tried to contain his anger while Sandra answered Craig Ryer’s questions. She’d driven to the farm to get him early that morning, and yet even knowing they were coming here, she hadn’t said a word about any of this. The calendar on Craig’s desk said it was April 24. Jacob should be helping Rhoda in the orchard. Instead, he was gritting his teeth as Sandra tried to justify her actions to Craig.

  Just the other night, after he had dropped off Rhoda at the Cranfords’, he’d found an isolated place to park the rig, and he’d stayed there a long, long time, thinking and crying out to God to help him find his way.

  When he had chosen to help the company in its unethical and illegal activities, he had done more than disregard his conscience. He had decided he could handle life on his own terms. Later, when he realized his error in judgment and realized he needed God, dishonor kept Jacob from turning to Him. Shame and guilt were wicked taskmasters, filling his mind with lies. His ego and fear of being seen in a poor light by others had kept him chained. When Jacob had prayed Sunday night, he shook as the walls around him fell.

  Now he sat here, determined to give to Sandra what God had given to him—true and complete forgiveness without walking away.

  “So,”—Craig tapped his pen on the notepad—“when you worked as a secretary for Jones’ Construction, did your responsibilities include placing orders?”

  Sandra answered, explaining her duties and how she performed them. It’d taken a while for Craig to get her to open up.

  Why hadn’t she told him all this when Blaine disappeared? Some part of this didn’t add up. But what?

  Sandra chewed on a thumbnail. “What happens when you know the whole story?”

  Craig had stacks of papers on his desk that he’d flip through occasionally and pull out something to talk to her about, but for the most part he only took notes while she talked. He’d done a lot of research since Jacob’s last visit, and a lawyer in Virginia had sent PDF files and faxed a number of documents to him.

  “We look at all the options.” Craig took a sip from the mug on his desk. “This mess is like a pile of spaghetti, but I’m determined to get to the bottom of it. Do you have any copies of order forms signed by you or your husband?”

  Sandra turned toward Jacob, trembling.

  He nodded. “It’s okay. I trust him.”

  She had no confidence in this man, but she was doing as Jacob asked. She removed a folded, tattered manila envelope from her purse and passed it to Craig. The lawyer opened it and reviewed the contents.

  He picked up the papers Jacob and Sandra had signed earlier and stood up. “I need to consult a colleague for a few minutes.”

  “Sure.”

  Sandra tucked some hair behind one ear. “He could be notifying the police right now.”

  Well, at least she hadn’t been lying to him all these years about thinking a lawyer would turn them in. She honestly believed that’s how lawyers operated. He found that a bit comforting.

  Jacob stood.

  “Where are you going?” Her voice wavered as she grabbed his arm. There was no convincing her that he wouldn’t abandon her, but the temptation right now to do just that and not look back was almost irresistible. He wasn’t sure how he could stand by her.

  “To get my bottle of water.” He pointed to a table behind them.

  She released his arm. Her insecurities wearied him, and yet, even though his family had always been there for him, always cherished him, he understood that kind of anxiety all too well. Didn’t every human? Each one was so frail and needy, so dependent on others.

  He picked up his water and moved to a window. The parking lot was directly below. A little farther out was a busy intersection, roads and traffic lights, and a multitude of people with goals and destinations. Were any of them as off-center with their lives as he’d been?

  His thoughts moved to Rhoda. They were never far from her. If it weren’t for her, he might still be running. But if she learned the full truth about him, would she walk away? He didn’t think so. It might cause a few rough weeks, but she wasn’t one to give up easily on a struggling plant. He loved that about her.

  Actually, he loved everything about her.

  His behavior after he’d learned Samuel had kissed her and she’d tried to cover for him was ridiculous. If that hadn’t destroyed them, surely finding out the rest of his secret wouldn’t undo them.

  Craig returned, a magnifying glass in his hand. “Ms. McAlister, were you aware that the signatures on the order forms don’t match Jacob’s?”

  She fidgeted with her hair and ran her fingers over her lips. “I could use a cigarette.”

  Jacob recalled his first meeting with Craig Ryer in this office. After Jacob had told his story, Craig speculated that Sandra had been lying to him, tricking him from the beginning. Now they had proof. But Jacob had signed those order forms, hadn’t he? He sat down and fought to keep his voice even. “Answer the question, Sandra.”

  “How could they be his? He only signed for an order twice, and even then he didn’t have the authority to do so.”

  The lawyer turned to another paper. “Are you aware that your name on these papers doesn’t match your signature?”

  “What?” She held out her hand, and he gave them to her.

  “But I worked as the secretary at times. I did sign them.” She pulled the papers closer. “Well,” she said a moment later, “clearly I didn’t sign these. But I signed some just like them.”

  “Your husband gave you those copies just before he disappeared, saying they matched the ones on record in the office, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you never looked at them?”

  “I glanced at them before I filed them away for safekeeping and started treading water to cope with what was happening. A few days later Jacob helped me pack up and move. I haven’t looked at them since then. Our whole world was coming down around us. Who would’ve signed them?”

  “I don’t know. I suspect someone who didn’t intend for you to pay for his crimes. It appears that whatever you did sign was never used to order goods through other companies.”

  She gaped at the man, unable to move. “Blaine? He … he tried to protect me?” Sandra was shaking from her hands to her feet.

  “These are forgeries of your handwriting. Did you purchase subpar materials and sign for them?”

  “I … I did as Blaine told me to. I signed whatever he said. I’m confused. Does this mean I didn’t break the law?”

  “There are three trials coming up. Two
are civil suits in the wrongful deaths of the two women who died when the deck collapsed. Since neither of you signed these forms, neither of you have any legal liability in the cause of those women’s deaths—”

  Jacob dropped his water bottle, sending the clear liquid across the tiled floor. “None?”

  “In their deaths, no.”

  Stunned, Jacob couldn’t budge. Despite needing to clean up the spill, he watched as drips of water fell from the mouth of the bottle into the puddle on the tile floor. It looked just like his life: drained and pouring out the last drops for no apparent purpose. He grabbed some napkins off the serving table and mopped up the mess. When he sat down again, Craig looked up from his notes.

  “As you know, I’ve been in contact with a Virginia lawyer who’s been involved in this case. As I said when we spoke by phone two weeks ago, the owner of the construction company is in prison.”

  Jacob cleared his throat. “I don’t understand why I never saw it in the paper. I’ve been looking for any news about Skeet Jones and the company since the incident with the deck.”

  “You probably didn’t see anything about it because there were so many other criminal cases taking up space in all the papers when the housing bubble burst. Small business misconduct made only the local news.”

  “But why is Skeet in prison? I’m the one who devised the borrowing scheme before I realized it was illegal.”

  “Your pirating from one job site to give to the next was not the real problem for several reasons. Your very detailed plan, which, by the way, was remarkable, was meant to give the homebuyers what they’d paid for, right?”

  “Ya, but no matter how meticulous I was with the math and supplies, we kept getting more and more behind.”

  “Skeet and Blaine were embezzling from the company. This is where your liability comes in, Jacob. When you realized Blaine was using funds to gamble, you should’ve taken the situation to the authorities. By trying to cover for Blaine, even though your aim was to dig the company out of the hole he’d dug, you became an accomplice.”

  “But you just said—”