“That it is.” Karl looked up. “Now sit and mind that temper.” He fidgeted with his hat. “Unless my daughter is more of a man than you are.”
Samuel sat down.
Karl faced forward, his face stricken. “It takes patience to cope with people’s reactions to Rhoda, and you will develop it, or you will be guilty of far more than tonight’s injustice.”
Since the day he’d met Rhoda, Samuel had become aware of his need for patience. They saw nothing alike, but that didn’t stop him from pursuing her to partner with Kings’ Orchard, and he had refused to take no for an answer. She had taken patience then too, every aggravating step of the way. But the kind of patience Karl had just spoken of was foreign to Samuel. It had nothing to do with controlling one’s temper or tolerating opposing opinions or flaws. It was about resigning oneself to the fallout due to someone’s strengths, because the truth was, what was taking place tonight was because of Rhoda’s gifts, not her sin.
Samuel studied the back of Rhoda—her willowy neck and neatly pinned hair under the translucent Kapp led to narrow, strong shoulders. Her strength and beauty beckoned him. Her knowledge of horticulture astounded him. But all of that didn’t explain what it was about her that had made him fall out of love with Catherine. Or maybe he hadn’t fallen out of love with her but instead had realized that what he felt for Catherine was not strong enough to call love. Not when compared to what he felt for Rhoda.
God, please, free me.
Karl intertwined his fingers. “It’s my understanding that my daughter is not the only one who takes patience.”
That was true. His ways and views grated on Rhoda’s nerves even when he wasn’t trying to put distance between them. But unlike Rhoda, it wasn’t his abilities that took patience. It was his flaws.
“So let me see if I have this right.” Urie’s critical tone grabbed Samuel’s attention. “The night your garden was vandalized, you decided to finish uprooting the plants and grade the property so you could give it to your family, who needed the land to build a home on, right?”
“Ya.”
“Then its demise ended up being good for your family, right? So why not thank God for the blessings and leave it alone?”
“Again!” Samuel jumped up. “That is not the point. Her garden was uprooted, stolen from her. Just because she chose to give the land to her brothers rather than replant does not diminish the punishment due to someone who broke the law.”
“You have no proof I did anything, Samuel King.” Rueben stood, his disrespect clear. “Since you wanted Rhoda to work for Kings’ Orchard, perhaps you were behind ruining her garden. Although, as I understand it, your father, Benjamin King, would just as soon you cut your losses now and end the partnership you’ve made with her.”
Samuel’s Daed did too much talking on the Amish chat line—where dozens, and at times hundreds, of Amish people across the states were on the phone at the same time, some taking turns talking, others listening silently for hours. News from it spread like wildfires, and his Daed should know better than to share a negative opinion on the chat line.
Urie motioned for Rueben to sit.
Rhoda turned in her chair and faced Samuel, and her blue eyes fixed on him. If she hadn’t known before that his Daed considered her bad luck, she clearly knew it now.
Samuel took a breath, praying for the right words. “Destroying property is against the law. Threatening to harm someone is against the law. Violence on this level is against the law.” He scanned the audience. “There is a time to take incidents to the police. Despite what I wanted, Rhoda refused to do that, so I sent that letter to you good people, hoping she’d at least find some justice among her own people. But all that seems to be taking place here is accusations against her. Why? What has she done to any of you that you fear her so much?”
Urie gestured at him. “Sit down, Samuel King.”
He stood firm. “If anyone here can tell me of one incident where she’s done you harm”—he gestured at Rueben—“and has a witness, of course, I’ll give you Kings’ Orchard.”
The room fell silent, and his suspicions were confirmed. These people were not liars. If they were, someone would mutter an accusation just to get their hands on his property. No, this wasn’t about lying. It was about people having their emotions manipulated against Rhoda. They were confused and frightened by all they’d been told. But they were not calculating or mean.
Despite Karl trying to get him to sit down, Samuel left the row and moved to the front of the room. “I know what happened the night her garden was destroyed, but I’m supposed to remain silent. Landon, the Englisch man who has worked beside Rhoda for years, is an eyewitness who could tell you plenty, but he’s not allowed to speak either. Yet Urie uses Rueben’s notes as if they were fact.”
Rueben grabbed the notebook out of his uncle’s hand and shook it at Samuel. “This is accurate. Besides, you can’t trust anything Landon says. Rhoda’s had a prosperous business for years, and people with money can hire others to do or say anything.”
“Is that what you did?” Samuel took the book from him and flipped through it. “Hire someone with a huge truck and a winch to mow down her fence and yank berry bushes up while she and her family were gone for the night?”
“Enough!” Urie snatched the book from Samuel and passed it back to Rueben. “This is not the Amish way.”
Samuel’s bishop barely moved his head as he nodded for Samuel to go to the back of the room. Although Samuel had much more he longed to say, he respected the authority of his bishop and returned to his seat.
David then raised his hand. “May I stand?”
Urie nodded, and David moved next to him.
David gazed at the onlookers. “I wasn’t sure why Samuel asked me to come tonight, but now I see that he’s become involved with this district, yet he’s under my authority. There is a lot going on that I don’t understand, but I do know Samuel is supposed to head out tomorrow to begin a new Amish settlement in Maine. He just offered thirty acres of prime land to anyone who could say with certainty that they have seen Rhoda do something wrong. You mentioned that Benjamin would like to be free of Rhoda, but he’s not here to confirm that.”
A man lifted his arm. “I heard him say it on the Amish chat line.”
David nodded. “Anyone else?”
A few raised their hands.
David nodded again. “When Rhoda’s garden was uprooted, did anyone hear that she blamed Rueben?”
He waited, but no one raised a hand.
“When was the first time any of you heard that she blamed Rueben?”
A man raised his hand. “I heard it from the bishop himself, a good week or more after the incident happened.”
Several people nodded.
David studied the bishop. “Urie, you heard about it when you received the letter, right?”
Urie went to the table and lifted the letter from Samuel. “Ya.”
“I yield fully to you, Urie, but if this were my meeting, I’d say that since no one heard any rumors of her blaming Rueben, and she’s said that she told no one except those who saw the destruction, which included Samuel King, any hint of the sin of gossip should be dropped.”
Urie studied the floor. “I agree.”
One of Rhoda’s preachers stood. “Someone demolished her garden. Rather than coming to us with that information, she let people believe she chose to give that land to her brothers. People were impressed with her sacrifice. Seems to me that’s the same as if she lied.”
David took a step back, lowering his head toward Urie, yielding to him. “Perhaps Urie would like to ask her if she could have restored and replanted her garden.”
Urie did so, and she nodded. “It would have taken time, but ya. That’s what Samuel and Jacob wanted me to do, as did my family. They all offered to help me do just that.”
“Oh, nonsense!” Rueben slouched in his chair. “Even you with your multitude of witch’s brews couldn’t have restored it.”
<
br /> David turned to Urie and spoke too softly for Samuel or anyone else except the church leaders to hear. Urie looked at the other church leaders, who were under him, and each man nodded.
“Rueben,”—Urie pursed his lips—“David would like to know why you referred to the condition of Rhoda’s fruit garden with such conviction?”
Rueben’s eyes widened, and he sat up straight, shaking his head. “No reason. It’s just that if she could have restored it, why didn’t she?”
Urie looked at Rhoda as if waiting for her to respond.
David looked to the back of the room, spotting Samuel. “Samuel, I believe you’ve disrupted this meeting and owe Urie an apology.”
Samuel’s blood ran hot, but he stood to his feet. “I’m truly sorry for any disrespect I’ve shown. That was not my intent.”
David nodded. “I’ve known Samuel his whole life, and I can vouch that he gets out of sorts when it comes to injustices, but his heart is filled with good intentions.” He gestured toward Rhoda. “But I need to admit that I’m sort of lost concerning what’s happening. Perhaps we do things wrong in my district and you can help me to understand. But if a man’s crops were ruined by vandals, and he decided not to try to restore them but chose instead to give the land to his family, who needed it to build a home, has he done something wrong that would give the church reason to question him? Am I missing something?”
David’s extreme humility grated on Samuel’s nerves, but he knew the bishop’s aim was to avoid causing a clash of egos and tempers if possible.
Urie seemed a bit taken aback by Samuel’s apology and David’s comments. He held up his hand, signaling for everyone to wait. Then he and the two other leaders huddled.
Being a church leader was difficult at best, and it seemed to Samuel that few men ever wanted the position. Church members nominated those they felt were worthy. If a man received three nominations, he then went through a process of elimination, during which any church members who had a grievance against him would tell the bishop their thoughts in private. From those who remained on the list after the elimination process, leaders were chosen by lot after a communion service.
It didn’t matter if a man had no desire to be a minister. Few ever wanted the weight of that position. But for every man, part of joining the faith was agreeing to be a church minister if the lot fell to him one day—although most people waited until a man was married and had children of his own before they would nominate him.
Being a minister was filled with heavy responsibilities and decade after decade with no compensation other than respect and a few gifts … if people chose to give either. The church leaders had to hold full-time jobs just like every other man.
Once he was older, Jacob would make a good church leader. But Samuel wouldn’t. He shuddered to think of himself as one. He was too bullheaded and had little patience with his own frailties, let alone those of others. He couldn’t imagine dealing with the spiritual, emotional, and physical needs of one or more districts year after year from the moment the lot fell on him until he was dead or too close to death to continue.
Compassion for Urie eased some of Samuel’s anger. Still, he wondered what had happened in Urie’s life to make him so set against Rhoda.
Urie looked up from the huddle and then stepped back in front of his people. He adjusted his glasses. “What exactly was your hope when you sent that letter, Samuel?”
“Two things, really. I feel that Rhoda deserves some justice concerning her garden. If we as Amish are not to take these matters to the police, then the only place we can go is to our leaders. And perhaps more important is that the young women in your flock deserve protection. If Rueben would do this to her, then I believe he’s bullying other women too.”
Rueben jumped to his feet. “Prove it.”
Samuel wanted to lunge across the chairs at the man, but Samuel’s bishop caught his eye, the warning clear. Samuel shoved his hands into his pockets and felt the pages Rhoda had given him. When she’d passed them to him, he’d not taken the time to look. He pulled the papers out of his pocket and opened them.
Blank.
He flipped to the second and third pages. They were blank too.
“Samuel.”
He looked up, and one of Rhoda’s preachers held out his hand. “Is that for us?”
Samuel glanced at Rhoda. Chills went up his spine, but she gave no indication as to what he should do—not a nod or a shake of her head.
“Kumm.” The preacher held out his hand, and Samuel made his way to the front of the room.
The preacher stared at the papers and frowned at Samuel. “What is this?”
“It’s lies!” Rueben reached to grab the papers, but Samuel stepped between him and the preacher.
Rueben shoved him, but Samuel regained his footing. Despite the temptation to shove back or hit Rueben, Samuel wasn’t about to give in. He kept his hands at his sides, aiming to respond with the peacekeeping methods his faith had tried to teach him.
Urie took the papers, confusion filling his features.
Rueben turned to face the onlookers, and he focused on one man. “Where is she?”
Was he unaware of how threatening his tone sounded? Did he realize that he’d just revealed his own guilt? Rueben believed someone else had written a letter of grievances against him, and by the look on Urie’s face, he fully understood what Rueben’s reaction meant.
The man in the back of the room shifted in his chair. “We have no quarrel with you, Rueben.”
It sounded to Samuel as if that man had a daughter and Rueben thought the papers held accusations against him from her. David held out his hand for the letter and flipped through the pages, a slight smile crossing his somber face. “That’s quite a temper you have, Rueben, and right here in front of everyone. What do you do when no one is watching?”
When Samuel looked at Urie, he was staring at his nephew, his face drained of all color.
The room waited in silence, and Urie seemed unable to respond. Finally he turned to Rhoda, clearly unsure of what he thought of her. “We’ll dismiss now, but there is no evidence that you’ve done anything wrong. You are free to move to Maine.”
Did the man hear himself? No evidence Rhoda had done anything wrong? That’s not what tonight was supposed to be about. But Samuel had peace that he could let this rest now.
“Those are lies!” Rueben pointed at the letter in David’s hands.
“Lies,” Urie whispered, visibly shaken. “I think it’s best if the church leaders allow any complaints concerning you to go to David. If the church leaders in Lancaster are like us, the ministers have phone shanties so their people can reach them as needed, ya?”
David nodded.
Urie pursed his lips. “Very well. We’ll send David’s mailing address and phone number to every church member with an invitation to contact him.” Urie lowered his head. “Let’s pray.”
Samuel’s heart pounded as peace flooded him. At least she had been given the right to leave tomorrow, but the meeting wasn’t ending as he’d hoped. Rhoda had agreed to come here tonight so the church leaders would free her brother and his family to go to Maine as members in good standing.
Would she agree to go?
ELEVEN
When the prayer ended and before the people could get out of their chairs, Rhoda slipped out a side door. Darkness surrounded her. Landon’s truck wasn’t in the driveway, and she was desperate for some time alone, so she started to walk away. Confusion circled. What just happened was a victory, wasn’t it? Then why did she feel so alone?
Despite the final outcome, she struggled under the weight of people’s scorn. To know it existed was one thing. To have it thrown at her for more than an hour before Samuel made some headway was something else.
“Rhodes, wait!”
She didn’t know why, but she wanted to avoid looking into Samuel’s eyes. Nevertheless, she paused.
He came within a few feet of her before he stopped. “We need to
talk.”
“Not now.” Even that was more than she wanted to say, but she needed to congratulate him. He deserved that, even if her emotions about the meeting, about her life, were all over the place. “You did well, and I’m glad you accomplished what you set out to do. I really am. It never entered my mind that Rueben was harassing anyone besides me. But I need time alone.”
“Why did you give me three blank pieces of paper?”
“I’m not sure. They were on a clipboard in the shed, and when I saw them, I wanted to tuck them away, thinking each one represented a blank future—yours, Jacob’s, and mine. I thought that maybe we would get to decide what will be written on them.”
“I think God had a higher purpose for nudging you to get them.”
His words should bring her comfort, but rarely knowing why she felt impressed to do things or if something was of God or not bothered her. Ready to be alone, she started walking again.
“Rhodes.” He fell into step beside her. “You’re hurt and angry, but you’re going to Maine, right?”
Voices behind them made them both look that way. Her parents were walking toward her, several yards away. She waved at them, but someone called to her parents, and they needed to go back to the bishop’s house.
Her Daed grinned. “We’ll see you at the house, ya?”
Samuel waved. “She’ll be there.”
Rhoda didn’t like him answering for her, but it was the answer she would have given. Whatever else she did tonight, she had to spend some time with her parents. She drew a deep breath and started walking again.
“Where’s your brother, Samuel? Why wasn’t he here for me?”
Samuel looked uncomfortable, then he shrugged. But he knew something. She was positive of it.
“What, you can open up my life to a room full of people who don’t want anything to do with me, but you refuse to answer a reasonable question about someone I’m in a relationship with?”
When he said nothing, she walked off.
“Rhoda, wait.”
She turned. “What, Samuel? What do you want from me?”
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