The Winnowing Season Read online

She didn’t intend to remain Amish either. Her family, especially her parents and Samuel, would fight for her to stay, and they would mourn her breaking away. But she would go anyway when the time was right. Until then, she’d do what her family needed of her to recover from the tornado and help establish the new orchard.

  With Samuel’s and Rhoda’s expertise combined, Leah was confident they could restore the apple orchard in Maine beyond anyone’s expectations, and then the canning would begin. Kings’ Orchard and Rhode Side Stands would be a success story for sure. Then she could walk away. By then she would have some solid work experience so she could get a decent job among the Englisch. And she would save enough money to rent an apartment far, far away from any Amish district.

  Landon nodded to the front door. “Your driveway is full of rigs, and people are streaming in and out of the house. It seems to be some type of going-away traffic, with people carrying huge bags of what looks to be flour and sugar and animal feed and such. Should you pull away and go visit for a while?”

  Leah wrapped another jar. “Samuel told Mamm we didn’t have time to stop for a going-away gathering. So my parents will be the hosts, and those of us departing will just keep working.” Excitement shivered through her as she began to put the wrapped canning jars into a box. “Sixteen more hours and I can leave not only Harvest Mills but the whole state of Pennsylvania. Arlan gets how that feels, but you might have to be Amish to understand.”

  “Nah.” Landon took a thick newspaper off the top of the stack. “I understand the desire to shake off the dust of a place where everyone knows everybody’s business.” He separated sheets of paper and spread them across the work station. “Morgansville is a lot more populated than Harvest Mills, and I’ve been trying to get Rhoda to move from there to Maine and begin fresh ever since her sister died.”

  Leah squeezed one more wrapped jar into the box, closed it, and grabbed the packing tape. “What happened that day?”

  Landon shook his head. “You’ll have to ask Rhoda.”

  “Even you don’t know?”

  He shrugged. “Probably more than anyone else except Rhoda. But she’s a private person. I’m sure there are details I’d be shocked to learn. What I do know, I can’t talk about.”

  Leah’s eyes met Arlan’s. That was the kind of friendship she had with him—one where they trusted each other to be a confidant. It seemed strange. Before she met Landon, she hadn’t had more than a passing acquaintance with an Englisch person, even the ones she partied with. It was encouraging to know there were quality people draus in da Welt—out in the world. That’s what her people called it, as if everyone who left the Amish to go there was doomed to die separated from God.

  But Landon seemed so different from the typical Englisch sinner that her preacher described. Maybe she didn’t know him well enough, but Rhoda did. He’d been a part of her canning business for years.

  “If you can’t talk about that, tell me this.” Leah put another wrapped jar into the box. “Once we get to Maine, is Rhoda going to ease up on this nonstop work load?”

  Landon stacked sealed boxes on a dolly and headed for the doorway. “I wouldn’t bank on it.”

  Leah rolled her eyes. “Great, just what I wanted. If having a lifetime of Samuel’s gung-ho attitude from dawn to dark wasn’t enough for me, I now have to deal with his partner, who may be worse.”

  Landon disappeared with the boxes, taking them to the moving van he’d drive to Maine.

  Leah’s face burned as she realized she’d insulted Rhoda. “I guess that sounded pretty mean, didn’t it?”

  “Probably a little.” Arlan shrugged and continued packing kitchen items.

  She left the work station, crossed the wooden porch, and went to the back of the moving van. A long, wide ramp led up to it, and she walked inside. “Landon …”

  He shifted one box on top of another, rearranging some of the items used for making large batches of jellies and jams. Although this twenty-six-foot truck could hold a lot, the largest portion of what they’d take to Maine would go on two boxcars—one for livestock and one for carriages, farm equipment, and feed. Since they were the first Amish community to settle in Maine and they would face the winter before bringing in a harvest, their needs were staggering.

  As the preparations for the move progressed, Leah’s patience had grown thin, but she shouldn’t have said anything negative about Rhoda. If someone spoke unkindly about Leah in front of Arlan, he’d have either told them off or walked out. “Landon?”

  He didn’t acknowledge her presence in the truck. He’d been so nice since they’d met, even hugging her after the tornado. Truth was, his kindness caught her off guard. With the exception of Arlan and her relatives, Landon was the only guy who had ever been nice to her. Well, there were a few others, like Michael, but only because they hoped she would sleep with them. That sugarcoated manipulation had nothing to do with liking her or being nice. Unfortunately, it’d taken her awhile to figure that out.

  She wasn’t sure how Landon felt about her. Did he think of her as simply another worker under his longtime friend and boss, or did he consider her worthy of friendship in her own right? She couldn’t expect much more than that. Between having no education to speak of, dressing like a Puritan, and knowing zilch about—what did he call it?—oh, ya, pop culture, like movies, music, and technology, she was impressed he even bothered to talk to her.

  Landon glanced her way. “Hey. I didn’t realize you were there.”

  So he wasn’t ignoring her. She moved toward him with the box. “I think Rhoda’s blessed to have a friend like you.”

  He grinned. “Me too.”

  Leah chuckled. “Sorry about what I said.”

  He made a face. “I’m not mad. Did you think I was?”

  “Ya.”

  He took the box from her and put it on top of several others. He motioned for her to have a seat, and they sat across from each other and leaned against the sides of the van.

  He straightened his ball cap. “She’s driven. I don’t disagree about that. But that’s probably what makes our relationship work. I usually feel like a boat adrift on an ocean—no real purpose or destination. She never hesitates about where she’s going or what she wants to accomplish, and when I’m around her, I feel like I have direction too.”

  Leah straightened her apron. “I’m more like you, except I like drifting. That is, if I was allowed to. Samuel’s always been the most work-oriented one in the family.”

  “So do you feel like it’s bad news that they’ve teamed up?”

  “Not all the time, but I do when I want to fritter away a few days reading or whatever. It’s just that the Amish make everything harder than it has to be—whether it’s carrying a lantern from one room to another at night instead of flipping on a light or shipping carriages by train to Maine rather than owning a vehicle to get around in once we get there. The work involved in living the simple life grates on my nerves. And I’m especially sick of it right now, but I’m hoping this move is as worth it as Rhoda seems to think.”

  Should Leah dare to ask a question that had been hounding her for weeks? “Is she really able to see into people or see the future?”

  “On occasion. But she does all she can to suppress it or run from it, so most often she can’t even read a person who’s making this face—” He raised his eyebrows high and mimicked terror. “Or this—” He twisted his brows until he appeared furious.

  Leah giggled.

  His features grew serious, thoughtful. “I worry about her. She’s like an innocent in so many ways.”

  Leah caught a glimpse through the shrubbery of someone coming toward the summer kitchen. Probably an uncle who had decided to ignore Samuel’s request that all visitors steer clear of the summer kitchen. “I heard her and Samuel arguing a couple of days ago, so I guess whatever innocent means to you, it doesn’t include suffering in silence.”

  “Oh, she has opinions, and she shares them whether you want to hear them or
not.” He smiled. “The two of you have that in common, right?”

  Leah nodded, a little surprised he knew that about her, but after a second thought, it did make sense. They had logged a lot of hours working together since Rhoda had joined Kings’ Orchard.

  Landon lifted his cap and scratched his head. “But both Jacob and Samuel seem to have aspects that she needs, including this opportunity to move to Maine for a fresh start.”

  Arlan came around the corner just then, pushing a dolly stacked with boxes. He walked it up the ramp. “Just call me a patsy.”

  Leah gazed up at him. “Come again?”

  “I’m in the kitchen working while you two sit around gabbing. That makes me a patsy, I guess.”

  She patted the floor beside her. “Have a seat, Patsy.”

  Landon took off his hat and waved it in the air. “This is a politically incorrect conversation. Just think of all the people named Patsy.”

  “I only know of one”—Leah waggled her thumb toward Arlan—“and he’s it.”

  They laughed.

  Arlan leaned into her shoulder. “I’m going to miss you, Leah.”

  She ached at the thought of leaving him behind. “Do not try that mushy, sentimental stuff with me, Arlan Troyer.” Her eyes prickled with tears, and she ducked her head and climbed out of the truck before either man could see them. “Kumm. We’ve got work to do.”

  Before they could budge, the person coming toward the kitchen was now at the bend in the path. She peered past the privet hedge. Her heart lurched.

  Michael.

  Had he finally come to see her?

  FOUR

  Samuel ran a towel over the horse, drying her. Why had he ever thought he could work with Rhoda Byler? Why hadn’t he turned and run the day he met her?

  And yet …

  Even as those angry thoughts ran through him, he knew his anger wasn’t honest. He was glad he knew her. But did a more willful woman exist?

  He doubted it.

  Boisterous laughter made him look toward the house. Numerous carriages were parked in the driveway. He’d seen that on his way to the barn. His district had come to show support and give practical, valuable gifts to him and the others as they established a new Amish community. He should mingle, shake hands, and thank them.

  No. He’d better not. With the argument between Rhoda and him still careening through his thoughts, his best course for everyone’s sake was to steer clear of people. Whatever message his Daed had for him, Samuel would find it next to the phone in the barn office, or his Daed would come looking for him.

  Samuel had sent that letter about the vandalism to Rueben’s and Rhoda’s church leaders in August. August! So why had the ministers waited until the day before they were to leave for Maine to call a meeting? It didn’t make sense. If they had let him know they intended to follow through on the charges, he’d have lined up some evidence to support his claim. Maybe.

  He tossed the towel over a wooden gate. When Jacob had arrived during the argument, he’d looked at Samuel as if the fight with Rhoda was his fault. Why? Because Samuel had finally raised his voice to her? His low-key, get-along-with-everyone brother would probably have a few choice words for him in the not-too-distant future. But if Jacob thought Samuel would tolerate being criticized, he was wrong.

  And he would tell his brother in no uncertain terms.

  It’d be the first real argument between them since they were teens. Jacob probably believed Samuel deserved a hard talking-to for what he’d done and said. But he had tried to avoid arguing with Rhoda. In the end she did what she was best at. Getting under his skin.

  Rhoda had gifts he admired and some he didn’t understand, but what threatened to bring him to his knees was when she unknowingly toyed with his emotions. As God was his witness, he’d not known a woman could have such power over a man. That alone irked him beyond what he could tolerate. But despite his irritation with her, he never had a moment when he didn’t admire a dozen things about her. Even when she was dead wrong, he still noticed every nuance of her beauty and strength, both inward and outward. The perfect curve of her lips …

  Stop!

  He led the horse to its stall and dumped feed into the trough.

  If Jacob knew how Samuel felt about Rhoda … But his feelings hadn’t caused the current battle between them.

  “Samuel!” His Daed strode into the barn. “What on earth is going on?” He pulled a note out of his pocket. “Rhoda’s father called. Karl wanted to make sure you knew that Rhoda has to be at a meeting tonight in Morgansville. If she doesn’t show, not only will they refuse her the right to leave as a member in good standing, but they’ll refuse to let her brother and his family go. Her brother said that Rhoda might choose to leave even if they don’t sanction it, but he won’t.”

  Samuel considered it a low blow to use Steven’s right to move against his sister, but he would get Rhoda there. Somehow. “Not a problem.” This was one aspect of Amish life that grated on Samuel’s nerves—the unnecessary drama if a respected member took offense at someone. But from what he’d read in newspapers, that same type of thing played out all across America, whether in church or business or government. “She’ll be there.”

  “I told him as much, but he wants to hear it from you. What’s she done now?”

  “Nothing, Daed. She’s done nothing.”

  “Don’t give me that. She’s bad luck, and you don’t want to admit it. Here you are at the eleventh hour, and this happens? It’s a sign you should cancel the whole thing.”

  Samuel cleared his throat. “Could you lay off the superstitions and stop blaming Rhoda? This is my doing, and it goes back to when someone destroyed her garden.”

  “Your doing?”

  Samuel nodded. “When her garden was vandalized, she chose to honor the nonresistant ways of the Amish, so she refused to call the police. I thought she was wrong, but I wasn’t going to insist she involve the police. Then she told me she didn’t even want to inform the church leaders about it. The next day I circumvented her by sending them a letter. I’m not letting an out-of-line Amish brother get off scot-free for his vandalism. He’s hiding behind a cloak of looking upright while terrorizing women. I won’t stand for it!”

  “But why did they wait until tonight to have the meeting?”

  “I’d like an answer to that too. They’ve had plenty of time. If we hadn’t been so miserably busy around here since I sent the letter, I would’ve checked into it before now.”

  “I’ve been around enough to know there’s some reason they’ve waited this long. Maybe they want to stop her from going to Maine. Or maybe …” His Daed glanced behind him. “Is she in good standing with her bishop?”

  “She’s not keen on him asking her questions. That’s about all I know. Why?”

  “Maybe her bishop wants credit among his flock for addressing this issue, but he’s doing so in a way that leaves her without enough time to prove who did it.”

  His Daed could do more speculating and jumping to conclusions than anybody Samuel knew. “Surely not. He’s a man of God.”

  “That means more to some men than others.” His Daed removed his hat. “Listen, I know you think you need her skills, but maybe you should allow this to be a sign and go to Maine without her. Open your eyes. Wherever she goes, there’s trouble.”

  “Are you kidding me? Wherever mankind walks, there’s trouble. It’s been that way since Cain slew Abel, or before. If you want to keep blaming her for every little imagined thing, you go right ahead, but do so quietly.” Samuel looked his father in the eyes. “Are we clear?”

  “The tornado was imagined?”

  “Do you have any idea how ridiculous it is for you to spend one second thinking she caused that? It’s embarrassing, Daed. It should embarrass you to think it and, worse, to voice it. She’s a good person, and you’d know that if you stopped listening to a bunch of rumors and your own fears.”

  “I’m not deaf. At least twice I’ve heard the two
of you going round and round about how to do business things. She’s difficult.”

  “She has her areas. I can’t deny that. But so do I. And so do you.” If nothing else, this conversation should prove that to his Daed. “And so do Jacob and Leah. I really don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

  His Daed sighed. “I don’t want this to be the last exchange between us before you leave.”

  “It won’t be. We’ll talk later, but I need to call Karl.”

  His Daed hugged him. “I’m gonna miss you being around to keep your old Daed straight.”

  Samuel returned the hug. This was his Daed: quick to believe rumors, blame women for the ills of the world, and not want his sons angry with him, but Samuel loved him.

  His Daed left, and Samuel went into the barn office and called Karl. When no one answered, he left a message.

  Restless and frustrated, he went back to the main part of the barn. What if Rhoda continued to refuse to attend the meeting or to go to Maine? He went to the far end that had a view of the orchard and propped his elbow on the doorframe.

  How had he and Rhoda ended up so angry with each other that they shook hands on going separate ways?

  Thoughts of Catherine came to him. He once thought he wanted to marry her. She would’ve yielded to his desire to turn in Rueben to the church leaders. Actually, she’d have thanked him for standing up for her.

  Love was so uncontrollable. Catherine had adored him, and he missed that. Yet he loved a woman who was seeing his brother.

  Rhoda. She’d chosen to sever her partnership with Kings’ Orchard, and yet she thought Samuel was running roughshod over her life?

  He’d been rash. In the heat of the moment, ready to rid his life of this woman who tormented his dreams and knotted his emotions, he’d shaken her hand on it.

  He rubbed the back of his hand across his mouth. “You’re the fool, Samuel.”

  “Is that insecurity I hear?”

  Catherine’s voice eased its way past his thoughts, and he turned. She smiled. “The buzz through the community says you’re leaving tomorrow morning.”