“Ich see. Du hab Bobbeli.”
Arie’s little head bobbed up and down in agreement when Rhoda said she saw her baby. The girl cradled her doll, gently caressing her face.
Isaac received two carved horses about six or so inches tall. With one in each hand, he galloped them across the floor.
The differences in how boys and girls thought began at such a young age. She glanced at Samuel and found him studying her.
Arie got between them, patting his leg. “Guck.” She held out the doll to him. She wasn’t going to take no for an answer, so he held it and cradled it while talking quietly to Arie. Soon Isaac was in Samuel’s face, vying for attention too.
Leah brought Rhoda a gift. “I got your name.”
“Oh.” Rhoda blinked. “Are we ready to exchange gifts among the adults now?”
Leah nodded.
“I wondered who drew my name.” She’d drawn Samuel’s name, and it’d taken her days to figure out the best gift to get, especially with the agreed-upon spending limit of fifty dollars. Rhoda opened the package. “Leah King, when did you find time to make me a new dress and apron and without me knowing?”
“I did it at Erlene’s. She has an electric sewing machine. You can’t imagine how much easier it was to make this dress on it instead of on a treadle machine. She even owns electric scissors. But I don’t know why they call them electric when they’re actually powered by batteries.”
Rhoda stood, holding the dress in front of her. “It’s beautiful. I haven’t had a burgundy dress in forever.” She hugged Leah. “Denki.”
“There’s more in there.”
“Really?” Rhoda shuffled through the tissue paper to discover a black wool bonnet. “Ach, Leah, it’s perfect. How did you—”
“I’m not divulging all my secrets.”
Rhoda put it on her head. It looked very similar to the traditional Amish winter bonnet, but it was quite thick.
Samuel went to the small pile of gifts near the fireplace and grabbed a box about the size of an unsplit log. He passed it to Leah. “I got your name.”
“This better be good.” Leah grinned and sat on the floor, then carefully loosened the edges of the silvery blue paper. “There is no way you wrapped this.”
He shook his head. “Nicole did.”
Nicole. Rhoda inwardly scoffed, hoping her displeasure didn’t show on her face. Weren’t they getting a little too chummy? What was he thinking?
Rhoda pulled her thoughts to something better. She’d talked to Jacob last night. He’d sounded exhausted, but he had kept her on the phone until past midnight just so he could wish her a Frehlich Grischtdaag, a Merry Christmas, in case he didn’t get to come home today. With Casey still quite sick and Sandra being released from the hospital just yesterday, Rhoda doubted Jacob could even get here for a visit today. While they had talked, Casey had slept on Jacob’s chest. Rhoda could hear the little girl coughing, and she woke a couple of times, but Jacob soon had her asleep again.
He’d be such a great Daed when the time came.
With Casey in the picture and Jacob feeling so protective of the little girl, Rhoda understood his need to be there. Still, this wasn’t exactly the Merry Christmas she’d been dreaming of. But she knew herself, and before she crawled into bed tonight, she would have her feet under her and be grateful for such a sweet Christmas.
It would help her disappointments and the adjustment of sharing Jacob if Samuel didn’t hide inside his impenetrable turtle shell. He had told her the night they moved here that if she needed a friend, she had Jacob for that. Although Samuel relaxed sometimes and shared an occasional wisecrack or bit of humor in the mornings, he had apparently meant what he’d said that night. Completely. When Jacob wasn’t around, Samuel would hardly remain in the same room with her. When Jacob was around, the closeness between the two brothers seemed to cause Samuel to be less distant, but only a little less stodgy toward her. Samuel, however, had no problem listening or talking with Nicole. Rhoda didn’t eavesdrop, and she rarely heard what was said, but she saw them talking and laughing nonstop while they worked together.
Why couldn’t he share a little of that with her? It would help both of them cope better inside this small, lonely settlement, wouldn’t it?
She heard a noise and jumped to her feet. She opened the front door and saw a truck going down the road. But there was no sign of Jacob, and it was almost time to go to the Cranfords’ place.
When she turned back, Leah had donned a beautiful black knit scarf and cape. The only gift that remained where the small pile had once been was the one she had gotten for Samuel. Rhoda went to the gift, picked it up, and passed it to him. “It goes without saying—I got your name.”
He took it and ripped the paper with one swipe. “It’s a book of some kind.”
“Probably on manners,” Leah quipped.
“Probably.” Samuel chuckled, but his hands slowed once the lid was off. “It’s two books.” He held one up. “One on organic apple farming.” Even while holding it up, he didn’t take his eyes off the second book. He opened it.
“Well?” Leah asked.
“It’s a parallel Bible.” He ran his hand over the leather cover with gold embossed lettering. “One side is German, and the other is English.” Samuel lifted his eyes to Rhoda’s. “You knew.”
“I’ve heard you mumbling ‘what does that mean’ a few times.”
He’d begun reading his Bible every morning and evening, but the Lutheran text was in High German, a language he had minimal training in.
As if he’d been slapped, the tenderness in his eyes faded and a more familiar, harder look replaced it as he set the Bible aside. “Denki.”
Disappointed that he’d gone into his shell again, she simply nodded. “Gern gschehne.” She didn’t understand. Where had her friendship with Samuel disappeared to? And why?
Rhoda was tired of thinking about the King men. Whether gone physically or emotionally, both of them ruled too many of her thoughts. She gathered her gifts. “Frehlich Grischtdaag.”
A chorus of voices responded with “Merry Christmas.” Samuel glanced her way without speaking before he returned his focus to Isaac.
She headed for the stairs. “I’m going to change into my new clothes and walk over to the Cranfords.”
“I’m not sure the Friendship Bread will be finished baking by then.” Phoebe got up. “I’ll check it.”
Just getting ready to go made Rhoda feel better about today. It wasn’t long before she had the loaf of hot bread in a picnic basket and was heading out the back door. Music filled the air. Was it real? She didn’t think so.
As Rhoda entered the snowy woods, she saw Emma following her. Rhoda cleared her throat and continued on as if she didn’t see or hear anything.
“Merry Christmas, Sister,” Emma whispered.
Rhoda kept moving. Healthy, sane people did not talk to their imaginations.
Something physically tugged on the back of her coat. She turned, expecting a branch to have snagged her, but she saw Emma.
“Don’t go.”
Rhoda’s heart skipped a beat. Don’t go? She trudged on, refusing to respond.
“We don’t know them!” Emma yelled.
Goose bumps ran up Rhoda’s arms, and she turned. “They’re good people.” Rhoda cringed at the sound of her own voice. Maybe this is why Samuel kept his distance when Jacob wasn’t around: he thought she was crazy and wanted a buffer between them before he could relax.
Emma studied her. “It’s cold being out here.” She looked around. “And you send me out here more and more, pushing me away.”
Rhoda sighed. “You’re nothing more than a figment of my loss.” She began singing to herself and hurried until she was on Camilla’s porch, knocking on the door. Rhoda glanced to her left.
Emma stood in the snowy yard. “Don’t leave me, Sister.”
“How can I? You follow me everywhere.”
“Rhoda?” Camilla’s voice startled her.
“Oh …” The concern in Camilla’s eyes let Rhoda know she had once again been seen talking to herself. She smiled and held out the bread. “Merry Christmas.”
Camilla peered past Rhoda. “Is Jacob with you?”
She shook her head. “A friend of his got sick and needed his help.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” Her brows furrowed. “Who were you talking to?”
“I …” Rhoda didn’t want to sidestep Camilla’s question. She could tell Camilla, couldn’t she? “I lost my sister a couple of years back, and her voice rattles around inside my head until I have to release some of my thoughts.”
The sweet, compassionate smile on Camilla’s face indicated she understood far more than Rhoda would have expected. “I’m so glad you’re here. Come.”
When Rhoda stepped inside, she saw twinkling white lights along the ceiling, running from one room to the next. Camilla’s instruments were sitting in the same room as the Christmas tree—a guitar, a piano, two cellos, and a saxophone.
A saxophone? How did she know what it was?
Another name came to her too—Zachary.
Rhoda had visited several times, and Camilla had played the piano and cello for her, but never the saxophone. Bob played an acoustic guitar. Until today Rhoda hadn’t even seen the saxophone, but she’d been in this room numerous times. It was real, wasn’t it? When she could do so in a natural way, she intended to touch it.
Camilla took the basket. “What have you brought us?”
“It’s Amish Friendship Bread.”
Camilla brought the basket close to her face and breathed deep. “I smell chocolate chips.”
Rhoda slid out of her coat. “Ya. I made this batch more like a dessert than a dinner bread.” She made her way to the saxophone and touched it. It was real. “Is this a saxophone?”
“Yes.”
“Do you play this instrument too?”
Camilla shook her head. “No. That kind of wind instrument takes a lot of lung power.”
Rhoda willed herself to be a little bold. “Bob, then?”
“No.” Camilla stared at the instrument, looking as if a long, painful story was buried deep inside her. “But Bob is manning the kitchen.” Camilla smiled. “We’d better get in there before we have burnt clam chowder and rubbery broiled mussels for dinner.”
Rhoda followed Camilla, but the name Zachary kept circling inside her head.
Even if Zachary was a real person somewhere and needed her to do something—like when Rhoda knew her neighbor needed help so she broke into the woman’s home to rescue her—what could she do unless she knew more? Camilla and Bob were wonderful people to spend time around, but they were very closed about their past and very uncomfortable with even the simplest questions.
Zachary Dumont. The name made chills run through her.
Why was this happening to her? Was she losing her mind, or was God trying to tell her something through the only method Rhoda was capable of hearing Him?
Peace wrapped a blanket around her as she finally understood herself a little better. These apparitions were simple, really. She didn’t want to yield to any intuition, so her imagination poked and prodded her until she finally heard something she couldn’t deny.
God, do You want to lead me in a direction I’m fighting You on? If so, I yield to You. Direct my steps. If it’s not You and only me, please help me learn how to make this stop.
Peace flooded her again, only stronger this time, and she knew that God would guide her without fail. But in which direction—to understand the words Emma spoke and the things Rhoda saw or to finally lay them to rest?
Samuel put the pruning sheers into the vise grip and turned the handle until it was secure. He still couldn’t believe that Jacob hadn’t made it home in time for Christmas or New Year’s. All these years he thought he knew Jacob. Apparently not. The man missed his first holiday season with his girl to spend it helping an Englisch woman and her child.
It irked Samuel, but there was nothing he could do about it. He placed the whetstone against the blade and applied pressure with short strokes as his Daadi Sam had taught him.
Today was January third. If Jacob didn’t get home within the next week, he would miss Leah’s birthday too.
But regardless of that, it was time to start pruning trees, and they had no shortage of branches to lop off.
Nicole had called earlier, asking if she could come by. She had flown to Colorado to ski with friends and family over the Christmas holidays, and while there she had talked to her uncle, an arborist, about the orchard. She said she couldn’t wait to tell Samuel what the man had said.
Samuel still had a few reservations about this woman entering their lives, but she was a good distraction. A welcome one. And certainly easier to deal with than Samuel’s missing brother.
Celebrating Christmas without Jacob had been disappointing. Celebrating it with Rhoda had been a mixture of pleasure and misery. At times Samuel thought Rhoda seemed as lonely and vulnerable as he was. He could still see her smile and feel the warmth of her hands as she passed him his Christmas present. The two books she had given him had meant something special.
It had taken humility for Rhoda to buy the book on organic apple farming titled Apple Grower: A Guide for the Organic Orchardist for him, considering he had wanted her to read books instead of attending the seminar. Her gift of the parallel Bible meant she’d taken the time to notice what he really needed and then had sought it out.
Jacob was witless not to be here with her. Sometimes, when Samuel least expected it, he caught himself starting to believe that Jacob wasn’t the best man for Rhoda.
“Hey.” Rhoda walked into the barn, a knit scarf, one of his gifts to Leah, around her neck. “Any messages?” She pointed toward the barn office as she walked in that direction.
“Sorry.”
“He’s supposed to call today.”
“Around midnight, right?” Samuel pointed outside. “It’s broad daylight.”
“I realize that. I just thought I heard the phone ring.”
“It was Nicole.”
Her brows wrinkled a bit, barely noticeable really, but it meant that something he’d said had bothered her. At times, like now and on Christmas morning, he was sure he saw more for him in her eyes than should be there. He hoped he was wrong. Could he continue stuffing his feelings and restraining himself if she returned his feelings? That would be a nightmare that would not end. It would rip him and Jacob apart. Divide their family. Possibly undermine the new settlement. It would do far worse things to Rhoda, because women bore the brunt of such events, as if they had used their seductive powers to cause such a divide. It wouldn’t be true, but it’d be how folks would feel.
“What’d she say?”
“She’s coming by in a bit. She learned a couple of things about orchards over the holidays, and she wants to share it.”
“How much information does one man need?”
He studied her as she held his gaze. Was that it, that thing he saw in her eyes, hinting that she cared? Refusing to give merit to his fantasies—and to his greatest fear—he continued sharpening the tool. “I’m glad she’s willing to offer advice … and friendship.”
Rhoda cleared her throat. “Fine. But when you first asked me to partner with you, you hesitated about Landon remaining by my side and even coming on your property, and now you’re flirting—I mean, flinging the doors wide open for Nicole.”
Was he flirting with Nicole? Flinging the doors open?
He didn’t think so. He loosened the vise and repositioned the pruning shears. “Maybe I need a distraction. Is that okay with you?” Samuel brushed metal dust from the blade. He didn’t want to snap at Rhoda. He wanted to pull her into his arms and …
He heard a car pull into the driveway. A quick glance told him it was Nicole.
Rhoda nibbled her bottom lip, a look of displeasure etched on her face. “I guess three’s a crowd.” She walked out of the barn, spoke a
greeting to Nicole, and went toward her greenhouses.
Samuel waved at his visitor.
Nicole scurried into the barn. “It’s so cold today. I can’t believe you’re going to start pruning now.” She pulled a wrapped gift out of her purse. “Belated Merry Christmas.”
“What have you done?” It looked to be a pocket-size book.
“Open it.”
He ripped the paper off. “You got me a VOM.” He’d never had one, but as he understood it, they were used to detect energy flow and troubleshoot problems with the stored electric current.
“I did?” She looked confused and peered at the gift, but Samuel had a few things about her figured out, and he knew she was teasing.
“Thank you.”
“A keeper of solar panels and numerous six- and twelve-volt batteries must be able to measure voltage, current, and resistance.”
“I may not hold the power, but this gives me the ability to measure it.”
“Exactly. I’d say you’ve been paying attention.”
“Definitely.” He had to in order to learn all he needed to about solar panels and harnessing the sun’s energy for the horticultural lights and anything else the Amish would need battery power for. But more than that, he focused on everything Nicole said in order to forget about Rhoda if only for a few hours here and there. His mouth went dry. “I didn’t get you anything.”
“When that happens in my family, we give the person a hug.” She held out her arms. “Well?”
He laughed and hugged her, feeling awkward and far removed from his Amish roots. But he also felt the power of her friendship. “So”—he slid the VOM into his coat pocket—“tell me what your uncle had to say.”
Is this what his life was coming to—looking to an Englisch woman to ease his loneliness?
Did he know himself any better than he knew his brother?
TWENTY-EIGHT
From the wagon bench Rhoda tugged on the reins, guiding the team through the thin layer of snow and toward the barn. She’d read that Maine averaged over six feet of snow most winters. Thankfully, this wasn’t one of them, at least not thus far. The first full week of January had been mild.
The Winnowing Season Page 23