The Winnowing Season Page 3

  “They know very little. They suspect plenty.” She picked up part of the branch Samuel had cut and cradled it gently in her hands. “Before I was old enough to know to bridle my tongue about forewarnings, I stirred controversy and fear within my district. It seemed that no matter how much I tried to put people at ease and hide who I was, I made matters worse. And throughout my life the bishop has waffled between trying to do what is right by me and fearing I’m evil.”

  Jacob knew her heart, but at times he was concerned that she would pick up on his past before he was ready to tell her. He could see where she would freak others out. “Maybe we can come up with something you could say that would change his mind.”

  “Nothing can undo the years of tangled weeds that have taken over his thinking. For him, it began before I turned five, when my Daed went to him for advice about me knowing an Englisch neighbor was abusing her child. That was my bishop’s first experience with me, but definitely not the worst.”

  She walked farther into the orchard, and Jacob strolled beside her, wishing he had some answers, any answers.

  Rhoda turned the stick in her hands round and round. “His wife was pregnant with their sixth child, and one day, while standing near her, I saw her dress move and realized it was the baby kicking. So I reached up and put the palm of my hand against her stomach. She didn’t like it and immediately removed my hand, scolding me. When her child was stillborn a few weeks later, the incident of touching her belly stuck out in her mind.”

  “They can’t possibly blame you for the death of the child.”

  “Blame would be too strong a word, but it deepened their suspicions and fears. Then every so often I’d do something that added to the rumors and ill will. The saddest part to me is what little I do receive must be of God. And I try to squelch the gift at every turn. Even from the time I was a child, I’ve focused on taking every thought captive, like Corinthians says to. I’ve never used my knowledge for profit. I’ve never felt superior because of it—just the opposite. How could I try any harder to be sure each insight is a godly knowing?”

  “Easy, Rhodes.” He put his arm around her shoulders. “You don’t have to convince me. There is no one I trust to handle more carefully what God has given them.”

  She gazed into his eyes for several moments. “Denki.”

  “Gern gschehne.” He smiled and squeezed her shoulder gently before removing his hand. “But the bishop had his chance to question you when you were going through the steps to join the faith.”

  “Ya. He asked, and I answered. To his credit, he never mentioned his stillborn child. He wanted to know if I dabbled in witchcraft and such, and my answers satisfied him that I didn’t. But that was seven years ago. He was a different man then—more determined to be fair, less jaded and fearful. Since that time, Rueben’s been dogging my trail, keeping notes about my activities, twisting the truth, letting his imagination go wild, and then taking it to the church leaders.”

  She was going to walk into a room of mostly good Amish people who had been filled with two decades of rumors about her. He had no doubt that prejudice and hostility had grown strong over time.

  “Any ideas why Rueben’s so set against you?”

  “We grew up in the same district and attended the same one-room schoolhouse. He never liked me. But the breaking point came last winter. We were at an Amish gathering, and he was making fun of me in front of his friends. Something was said about his girlfriend, and I saw guilt flash across his face. I realized he was cheating on her, so I twisted his words and confused him until he basically confessed. He believed I knew what he did because of witchcraft, and he was out for vengeance ever since. When he destroyed my garden, I just wanted to deal with it in my own way. And I could have, if Samuel had minded his own business.”

  “You have plenty of reasons to be angry with Samuel, but what he’s started can’t be stopped. Let’s use this as a chance to set the record straight before you move away. Let the people who’ve heard nothing but lies about you see the real you.”

  Disbelief was written on her face before she hurried toward the area where the bucket sat.

  Jacob pulled his hat tighter on his head and strode after her. “I’ll go with you, and so will Samuel. And Leah. And—”

  “Oh, please.” She grabbed the first-aid bucket and walked off. “Just what I want—more witnesses to the train wreck that’s going to happen.”

  Should he mention all that was riding on her and Samuel making amends? Rhoda’s brother Steven and his family were moving to Maine too, banking on working for Kings’ Orchard for their livelihood. They wouldn’t have made those plans if Rhoda wasn’t going. Besides them, two other Amish families had decided to join the new settlement, and they did so because Rhoda had a hand in approving the orchard, ensuring that it would be a good, affordable place for a new Amish community. The Bender brothers and their families first had to sell their homes, so they might not get to Maine for a few months.

  It was probably best not to mention all that, at least not for a few more minutes.

  “Are we heading in now?” He grabbed the reins of the Morgan with one hand and a small limb with the other.

  She faced him, walking backward, and her eyes went to the limb in his hand.

  He held it up, determined to bring a smile back to her face. “I think it’s an olive branch. You know, extended to someone in peace. If that doesn’t work, you can ask Samuel a question about it, and when he tries to get a better look, you can swat him with it.”

  An almost undetectable smile crossed her lips before she turned around. No matter how taxing her workdays were, she found Jacob’s humor amusing. And he liked that he had yet to fail in easing her frustration a little.

  “What do you call a boomerang that doesn’t work?”

  When she looked his way, Jacob waved the limb in the air. “A stick.” He released the horse’s reins, knowing it would head straight for the barn, and then he swiped the thin branch through the air. “Kumm closer. I have a question about this thing in my hand.” He began closing the gap between them.

  “Jacob.” She elongated his name and pointed at him. “I’m warning you.”

  “Oh, a dare.” He picked up his pace. “I like dares.”

  She shook her finger. “Stop! Right now!” Her eyes grew large and she took off running.

  Jacob came up behind her, wrapped his arm around her waist, and lifted her off the ground.

  She cackled. “Put me down.”

  “Swing you around? Okay.” He spun her.

  “Now!” She kicked and pried at his arm.

  He fought to keep hold of her. “I will for a kiss.”

  “No way.”

  He set her feet on the ground. “What?”

  Her hands moved to her hips. “You heard me.” She playfully kicked at him, missed, and stumbled backward.

  He caught her arm and pulled her close before brushing wisps of silky hair away from her face. Did she have any idea what she meant to him? “I’ve spent every day since we returned from Maine working on storm-damaged homes and taking care of all kinds of dairy farm business so I could go too, and now you aren’t going?”

  She closed her eyes and rested her forehead against his shoulder. “He’s beyond infuriating, and there’s no controlling him.”

  “I know, and I’d never tell anyone except you this, but you’ve been a little stubborn too—still gathering apples yesterday and canning them until the wee hours of this morning. And he’s been really agreeable about setting up a shed where you could do experiments when he’d rather you both were packing for the move.”

  “So you’re siding with him?”

  “No.” He rubbed her back. “Maybe it’ll help if I tell you something he doesn’t want you to know. Remember that I was supposed to stay in Harvest Mills until spring or summer while you two went to Maine this fall? You know that plan changed, but you don’t know why. Samuel came to me with detailed plans of how I could underpin and rebuild all the
Amish houses and outbuildings that’d been damaged by the tornado in time for the move. He hasn’t said so, but I know he did that for us, so we won’t be separated.”

  She took a step back and raised an eyebrow. “Or because once the information from the house inspection came in, he realized he needs your skill to make the place livable before winter arrives.”

  “That’s cynical, Rhodes. Remind me never to make you angry. Kumm on. He’s the one who decided how each of us would get to Maine.” Jacob waggled his eyebrows. “And you know how much I’ve been looking forward to that.”

  She started walking again, a frown showing obvious doubt as she pondered his words.

  Jacob had barely begun to court Rhoda when the tornado struck. Almost every moment since had been mired in work. But once they boarded the train tomorrow, they would sit back and enjoy the scenery and talk for almost six hours. They would dine onboard, and since he’d once been in some of the areas they would ride through, he looked forward to telling her about some of his adventures—well, at least the parts he could share, those that would make her smile or laugh. But what felt like a gift to Rhoda was that, with Jacob there, she wouldn’t have to navigate any unfamiliar train depots while leading two women and two children—his sister and her sister-in-law and two children—from Pennsylvania to Maine.

  It wasn’t easy for an Amish man to buy a gift for the woman he was seeing. What could he purchase? The women made their own clothes and didn’t wear jewelry or even lip gloss. Because Rhoda worked outdoors so much, she didn’t even wear fragranced lotion, which tended to attract bees. There was no point in buying her flowers, because if she liked certain ones, she grew them. But he had discovered that doing little things that relieved her of some responsibility felt like a gift to her.

  Jacob slid his hand into hers and squeezed. He tugged at her hand, stopping her. “Samuel is a good leader. However, just to be clear, there’s no way I’m admitting that to him.” He grinned. “But sometimes he leads when he shouldn’t. Fight with him. Make him leave your life alone. But don’t quit because of a good quality used in the wrong manner. And for the love of mercy, don’t leave me alone with him in Maine. That’s like stranding me in the wilderness.”

  Her soft laughter was a welcome sound. “He owes me an apology.”

  “Absolutely.” Jacob grinned again. “I don’t know that you’ll get one, but he owes it to you. Do you accept IOUs? Because I could write one for him.”

  She smiled, and he brought her hand to his lips and kissed the ends of her fingers. That same action a few months ago led to a kiss. “Do you know how long it’s been since you kissed me?” He eased his lips from one hand to the next.

  She drew a relaxed breath, smiling at him. “Too long?” Her beautiful blue eyes reflected tenderness.

  “Almost a month. It’s not that I mind.” He kissed her cheek. “I like where we’re headed—keeping a respectable distance while I continue to grow more mad about you.” He tightened his embrace.

  Her smile made him feel as if it were Christmas morning. “I have a question.” She brushed specs of tree bark from his shirt.

  “Anything.”

  “This is a respectable distance?”

  “No.” He stretched the word but didn’t release her. “Today, in this field and under these circumstances, is the exception to the rule, like after the storm tore through or when we toured the Maine farm and agreed to take it on.”

  “Ah.” She played with a button on his shirt. “And this occasion?”

  “I’m hoping it’s in celebration of my keeping you from divorcing Kings’ Orchard in general and Samuel specifically.”

  She tilted her head back, and he took his cue. Her soft lips molded to his for a lingering minute before she took a deep breath and stepped back.

  “Maybe you should find reasons to be heroic more often.”

  “I totally agree, and if you’re in Maine and Samuel is in Maine, I’m guaranteed to get plenty of opportunities to do just that.” He took her by the hand, and they walked toward the house. “Orchard Bend will be close enough to the ocean that, with a ride from Landon, we can visit it on an off day. I really want a chance to teach you to love the sea like I do.”

  She smiled. “You and your beloved ocean.”

  “There’s nothing like it, Rhodes. You will be in Maine, right?”

  “I’ll think about it. If he apologizes.”

  But the smile in her voice told him that whatever else happened from here on, he’d won. He had managed to be a peacekeeper.

  This time.

  THREE

  Leah’s bare feet felt a little too cool against the stone floor of the summer kitchen. Despite that and the fall breeze flowing through the open windows, beads of sweat trickled down her neck and back as she packed up all the canning supplies. Her friend Arlan was across the room, helping pack too.

  October 20 and Kings’ Orchard should have the annual pickers working like honeybees around a hive, but there wasn’t enough money or crops to hire anyone after the tornado.

  Was it only mere months ago that they had poured all their dreams and hopes into this summer kitchen to get it operational? The Kings were going to supply Rhoda with the apples to can, and she had planned to work here, preparing apple products to sell under the new Rhode Side Stands and Kings’ Orchard label. The summer kitchen had been built around 1840 and had been used by Leah’s grandmothers before being abandoned and falling into disrepair. All the work to make it functional again had been destroyed when the tornado took away not only Rhoda’s livelihood but most of the orchard as well.

  Now part of the King family would remain in Harvest Mills—Leah’s parents, her older brother Eli, and her two younger siblings—living on the old homestead, tending to the small dairy farm, and planting seedlings. The Kings who weren’t staying—Leah and her brothers Samuel and Jacob—were setting out to try their luck elsewhere. How strange that a family’s future and fortune could change as quickly as the weather. Was nothing left untouched by the turning of time?

  Arlan held up an oversized wooden utensil as if it were an oar. “Boat paddle?”

  She laughed at her friend’s antics. “Ya, that’s what it is. It’s helpful when we’re traversing the Susquehanna River of jam and jelly.”

  He swooshed it through the air as if he were paddling downriver.

  She pointed to a box on a shelf. “It goes with the other wooden spoons.”

  Arlan was a loyal friend, one she didn’t feel worthy of. Although he had spent his teen years being a conservative believer, and she’d spent most of hers believing in nothing but having a good time, he’d remained her friend, even when she started running around with Michael and going to parties.

  Was she any happier today than when she began her search for fun? Her search for a good time had made her physically ill—to the point she’d been unable to keep food down and lost weight. It had been scary, but Rhoda believed that between drinking too much and constant worry, Leah had irritated the lining of her stomach. Rhoda ground a special herbal tea for her. With that, no more alcohol or partying, and a balanced diet, Leah hadn’t been sick to her stomach in about ten weeks. If anything made her a little happier these days, it was that she no longer feared she was dying from some strange disease.

  She grabbed another canning jar and rolled it in newspaper. Her goal was to have this place completely packed up and on the moving van by midnight. It would be another step toward leaving this dumpy old Amish district—and Michael—behind.

  She couldn’t wait.

  “Leah,”—Arlan held up a colander—“where is the box that has these?”

  “In that far corner.” She nodded toward it.

  Tomorrow morning when the train crossed the state line, she might not be able to keep herself from standing in the aisle and waving an enthusiastic good-bye to Pennsylvania.

  And to Michael.

  He hadn’t come to see her even once since she had told him she was pregnant. The only
place she ever saw him was at church, and looking at him still stung. So she tried to ignore his presence, but she’d caught him eyeing her a few times. Was he looking to see if her belly was growing with his child?

  Another wave of regret twisted her gut. As much as she’d howled and fought with her parents to give her the freedom she wanted during her rumschpringe, she now wished they would have ignored her, locked her away, and not opened the door until she’d matured.

  But would she have matured without experiencing reality firsthand? It was being in the partying world that showed her what a complete sham it was and helped her understand that “thou shalt not” wasn’t a commandment to control her but to save her. From herself as much as from anyone else.

  Although she hadn’t yet decided if she believed all that was in the Bible, she knew now that some of those commandments originally written in stone all those years ago were wise principles meant to guide people away from danger.

  She also knew that no one had the power to rewrite the rules of life. Even if she could hide her selfish, ungodly behavior from everyone, her soul felt every rip and gash.

  A loud thud made her jolt. Landon stood in the doorway, a grin on his face. He had tossed a large stack of newspapers onto the stone floor. Arlan laughed at the two of them.

  “Landon,”—Leah clicked her tongue—“you did that on purpose.”

  “Yep. Stop daydreaming already.”

  She chuckled. “It’s probably what I do best.”

  Arlan nodded. “Known her my whole life. She’s telling the truth.”

  Her whole life … That had a nice ring to it, and if she missed nothing else, she would miss Arlan. Actually, she was pretty excited to say good-bye to the rest of the people she’d grown up around, including her parents and her two little sisters. At almost eighteen she would finally be free from sharing a bedroom with them!

  “Daydreaming is my way of escaping the dreariness of Amish life.”