A Season for Tending: Book One in the Amish Vines and Orchards Series

by Cindy Woodsmall

“Hey.” He glanced at the clock while closing the book, looking as if he might be in trouble. “Did I get our plans for today mixed up?”

  She shook her head. “I couldn’t wait until tonight.”

  He stood and smiled at her. “I like the sound of that—” But the smile quickly faded. “Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”

  She nodded, and he wrapped his arms around her. No place on earth felt as warm and secure as being in his arms. “I got into an argument with Arlan. He’s wrong about everything, and he has no respect for me, but he hangs on Leah’s every word. We have to keep those two apart.”

  “I don’t think they’ve seen each other in at least a week or two.”

  “But he wants to take her to some Englisch church next Sunday or the one after.”

  Samuel propped his chin on the top of her head. “Oh.”

  “Oh?” Catherine backed up. “You’ve got to stop that from happening. If she goes and likes it, I think that’s all it will take for him to break ties with us and join them.”

  His brown eyes flashed with disbelief. “What do you want me to do? Ground her?”

  “Ya, that’d be a start.”

  He closed his eyes, shaking his head. “She’s my sister, not my child, and that’s only one problem with your plan.”

  “But you managed to ground her once.”

  “Not exactly. We struck a deal and only because I wanted to keep her from parties, alcohol, and Michael. She’s been pretty low-key since then.” Samuel rubbed her back. “What happened between you and Arlan?” His quiet voice washed over her.

  “I didn’t mean to get into an argument with him. I only wanted to find out where he’d gone this morning, and he got all rude about it.” She wished she could ask her Daed to talk to Arlan, and she’d tried that a few times. But either he treated her concerns as if they were nothing more than sibling rivalry, or he got so angry with Arlan that the two didn’t speak for days.

  Samuel hugged her tight. “Men,” he mocked disgustedly. “We’ve lost our ability to speak in a careful, genteel manner when addressing young women.”

  She pulled back, raising both eyebrows. “Genteel? You’ve never used that word before.”

  He rolled his eyes, a grin on his face. “I’m reading all about the more genteel ways.”

  She moved to the couch and picked up the book. “Why?”

  “I’m hoping to learn a better way to get along with someone who’s a little difficult. It’s important for the orchard.”

  “Why haven’t I heard about this plan?”

  “It’s new. Leah’s idea, actually.” He brushed his jaw line with the back of his fingers.

  Catherine didn’t pretend to understand what it took to run Kings’ Orchard, but this made no sense. “If you’re having trouble with someone, why not walk away from whatever business you have with them?”

  “It’s not that easy. Some relationships are necessary, even if we do own the land and crops.”

  “People are just difficult, aren’t they?”

  He chuckled. “Ya, they are.” He took the book from her and ran his hands over the tattered hardback. “Unfortunately, it’s beginning to dawn on me that we’re people too.”

  Catherine sat on the couch. “Are you saying that I’m as annoying to others as they are to me?”

  “I can’t possibly see how.” He kissed the back of her hand.

  “Me either,” she giggled.

  EIGHTEEN

  Rhoda stepped into the tiny phone shanty at the edge of her property. The display on her phone flashed a red twelve. She groaned. The dozen messages couldn’t all be business. She’d checked the machine on Saturday, a few hours before Samuel arrived. Now it was Tuesday, and she had so many more messages? Just like last time, and the time before that, most would undoubtedly be crank calls—the same handful of Amish teens calling numerous times.

  Bracing herself, she took a pencil and notepad from the top drawer of the small desk under the phone, sat in the vinyl chair, and pushed the green button to listen.

  “I need your help,” a distressed young female whispered on the other end of the line. “I’m lost, and I don’t know how to find my way home. Wolves are howling all around me. I know you can see me. You’re the only one who can save me. Find me, Rhoda. Find me!” A burst of raucous laughter preceded the beep that ended the message.

  Rhoda pressed the green button to pause the machine. She closed her eyes, trying to convince herself she wasn’t as alone, as friendless, as vulnerable as she felt. She wished her sister were here.

  She knew not everyone was against her and only a handful made the crank calls. They’d stop for a while. But whenever she thought the nonsense had died down for good, they came again, like weeds in a garden. She guessed they were bored.

  Rhoda pressed the button to delete the eerie message and waited for the next one to begin. “My boyfriend broke up with me,” the caller whined, “and I don’t know why. I’m sure you know. You can help—” She heard laughter in the background and a muffled sound before she clicked Delete. The notion that she had any insight into romantic relationships was almost funny to her.

  The next message was a real business call—a request for several cases of strawberry preserves, the no-sugar-added kind. She didn’t have enough white grape juice concentrate on hand, and this was a rush order. She added it to her shopping list.

  Out of the dozen messages, five were for legitimate business. She left the shanty and went to the shed. Everything inside the building had been rearranged to make room for a set of old bookcases. Her brothers’ work, no doubt. They had quite a knack for either rearranging or throwing out items, much as they’d apparently done with her grandmother’s recipes. The need for space inside the house had them constantly moving items into the attic, barn, and shed.

  While shifting some things around, she found the little red wagon her Daed had given her to carry items from the store. She heard a rig pull into her driveway. A quick glance confirmed that Daed had returned from one of his handyman jobs—maybe for lunch or maybe for supplies. Either way, her brothers weren’t with him.

  With the wagon in hand, she left the shed. Her Daed had already gone into the house. She pulled the wagon behind her, enjoying the idea of a good walk. Perhaps it would help her sort through her jumbled thoughts and emotions concerning Samuel.

  The idea of getting to know him better, of maybe even going out with him, intrigued her, even as frustrating as he was. He was muleheaded, but she wasn’t an easy person to get along with either. She and Landon had spats all the time, and no one was closer to her than he was. They enjoyed sparring, but her frustrations with Samuel hadn’t been so amusing.

  While she didn’t really want to be put on the spot again about canning for Kings’ Orchard, she looked forward to seeing Samuel. Her Daed had warmed up to him right away, as had everyone else in the family. Something about him was magnetic. She couldn’t deny that.

  She wondered if he might have a tiny spark of interest in her. She sighed, needing to free her mind of him.

  As she passed Mrs. Walker’s house, her skin suddenly crawled with goose bumps. She paused, studying the older home. Nothing looked out of place. Rhoda ignored the odd sensation and kept walking.

  She placed one foot in front of the other without even glancing back. But the sense of eeriness remained in the air. Rhoda stopped.

  Her intuition caused more problems than it ever solved. Still, she turned to face Mrs. Walker’s home and closed her eyes, hoping the strange feeling would form a specific thought or image. It didn’t. But she couldn’t shake the idea that something inside Mrs. Walker’s home was wrong, possibly with the old woman herself.

  She moved the wagon off the sidewalk and hurried back toward her own house. Thankfully, Daed’s rig was still in the driveway. She ran into the house and found her sisters-in-law in the kitchen. A large mixing bowl sat on the table, half filled with flour. Lydia cracked an egg and dumped it in.

  Phoebe looked up
from the recipe card in her hand. “Hey, Rhoda. I’m glad you’re here. Do you think we could have a cup of your fresh—”

  “Where’s Daed?”

  “Not sure. Maybe the vegetable garden.” Lydia tossed the eggshells into Rhoda’s compost bucket and peered at her.

  Phoebe wiped her hands on her apron. “You’re shaking.”

  “I … I think Mrs. Walker may need help.”

  “You think?” Phoebe glanced at Lydia. “I’ll get your Daed. You get a drink of water and take a breath.”

  Rhoda got a glass out of the cupboard and filled it with tap water.

  What if she was wrong about Mrs. Walker? She never knew if her instincts were right until she pursued them, and she often embarrassed herself and her family in the process.

  Daed came into the kitchen, Phoebe close behind. “What’s going on?”

  “I have a feeling about Mrs. Walker.”

  He plunked down into a chair in front of her. “Rhodes …”

  “I know, Daed. Trust me, I understand why you’d rather sweep this under the rug. I’d like that plan too, but we can’t.”

  Her father gazed into her eyes. “You’re absolutely positive?”

  “I’m sure we have to at least check on her.”

  “There’s something I haven’t told you.” He shifted in his chair. “Her grown children were in town for the holidays a couple of years back, and they came over here to ask me to make sure you left her alone. I told them we’d all stay away. If we go over there, how am I supposed to explain that to them?”

  “Would you rather take the chance of letting her die?”

  She didn’t allow herself to say the rest of what she was thinking—Like I let Emma die?

  His expression told her he read the desperation in her eyes and voice. “All right. I’ll go over there. But you stay at the corner while I talk to her. I don’t want her to see you.”

  She hurried out the door, and Daed followed her. He moved far too slowly as they went down the block. Rhoda stood at the corner while her Daed went up to Mrs. Walker’s front porch.

  With each knock Rhoda’s heart beat faster. Unable to take it any longer, she ran across the woman’s yard and joined her Daed on the porch.

  “Maybe she’s not home.” He glanced at the sidewalk as if he was ready to leave.

  “Maybe she can’t answer the door.” Rhoda peeked in the window, but drawn curtains prevented her from seeing inside.

  “Rhoda.” Daed frowned, cautioning her.

  “Something could be wrong. We can’t leave until we know for sure.” She checked more windows. Shades or drapes blocked every one. “Maybe we should call the police or an ambulance.”

  “We can’t call for help because a neighbor isn’t answering her door, especially when that neighbor has asked us to leave her alone.”

  “What if I’m right and she needs help?” She tried to open the door, but it was locked. She knew the back door was probably locked too. Whenever she was in the berry patch, she would hear Mrs. Walker latch it every time, whether going in or out.

  Daed went to the far end of the porch, looking into the side yard.

  Rhoda spotted a small plant in a clay pot sitting on the railing. She picked it up and slammed it against the window. The glass broke in countless pieces that tinkled to the ground.

  “Rhoda!” Daed hurried back to her. “How am I supposed to explain to the Walker family that you broke into their house?”

  Without answering, Rhoda set down the pot, reached inside, and unlocked the window. She raised it and crawled inside. “Mrs. Walker?”

  No answer.

  She unlocked the front door.

  Her Daed stared at her. “Kumm out of there now!”

  She retreated deeper into the house. “Mrs. Walker?” When she entered the sunroom, she found the woman lying motionless on the brown carpet. She knelt beside the body. The old woman was still breathing.

  Relief coursed through her. “Daed! She’s in here!” Rhoda cleared her throat, trying to keep tears from falling. She hadn’t let fear stop her, and even though it was hard to believe, she’d been right to break in. “Call for an ambulance.”

  The minutes ticked by, and Rhoda’s heart raced. As thrilled as she was to have found Mrs. Walker alive, she couldn’t stop asking herself why she hadn’t managed to save her own sister.

  It didn’t make sense. And God seemed silent on it.

  Leah stood in the bathroom before sunrise, fully dressed for the day but unable to leave this tiny, dimly lit space. She held a cool, wet washcloth to her lips, staring at herself in the mirror and realizing how unfamiliar she looked. Who was she?

  Apparently someone whose boyfriend no longer cared about her. It was midweek, twelve days since the party, and he’d yet to come by or even call.

  The flame from a kerosene light flickered in the soft glow of dawn. Her sisters slept, and she imagined Eli and Daed were still asleep too. She heard faint sounds of Mamm starting breakfast downstairs. Today was Jacob’s birthday, so she might already be working on making him a cake.

  Mamm had called the doctor’s office yesterday, just as she’d said. She’d explained Leah’s symptoms, and since the Kings didn’t have health insurance, the general practitioner said Leah didn’t have to come in for a referral. He wanted her to go to a specialist, a gastroenterologist. The doctor’s office made the appointment for Leah and called Mamm to let her know the appointment was in a few weeks. The nightmare facing Leah grew more menacing by the day.

  She longed for the time before she started chasing Michael, wanting him to love her, and then thinking he did. She wished to go back before her rumschpringe—the time she so detested until recently. One thing she knew for sure: she was never again messing around outside of marriage.

  Sick of staring into her own eyes, she picked up the lantern and left the room. She tiptoed into the upstairs sitting room, grabbed a book, and sat in an armchair. Maybe if she got absorbed in an old Stephen King novel, she could forget for a while. It seemed so unfair. All she’d wanted to do was have a little fun—enjoy music, good conversations, and a world outside of Amish rules. Now she was stuck doing the only thing she’d been allowed to do before her rumschpringe: read.

  “Leah,” a man’s whispery voice called from somewhere outside. Michael? Hope clutched her by the throat. She hurried to the window and pulled back the curtain. Pink and orange hues painted the clouds along the horizon, but the sun had yet to rise. She looked down toward the lilac bushes, a place where Michael had once stood while tossing pebbles at the window to get her attention.

  “Down here,” he whispered. She looked directly below and saw Jacob sitting bareback on his Morgan. He had a second horse by the reins and held them up to her.

  He had to be kidding. Go for a ride now? She felt as weak as a kitten.

  “Kumm on,” he whispered. “It’ll be your birthday present to me.”

  Tears pooled in her eyes. She used to love taking predawn rides with Jacob, and like so many things she’d come to realize lately, she’d taken them for granted. Why was it so easy to discount what you had until you no longer had it?

  He shifted, his brows knitting slightly, and she felt as if he were reading her life story. “If you’ll ride with me, I’ll let you ask me a question about my past, anything you wish, and I’ll answer.” He again lifted the reins to her.

  Her heart fluttered. He stayed so closed about his rumschpringe days, and she longed to hear what he thought of the Englisch world. What made him come back home? Did he regret leaving? Or returning? Had he sinned as she had, and did the fear of it catching up with him eat at him day and night?

  But his offer to open up made her uneasy. Was he hoping she would talk about her secrets as well? Regardless, she’d not refuse to go for a ride on his birthday.

  “Okay.” She released the lightweight curtain and hurried down the stairs. She’d almost made it out the door when Mamm spotted her.

  “Where are you going?”
>
  “Riding with Jacob.”

  Mamm put her hands on her hips. “Breakfast is almost ready.” She sighed. “It’s been a long time since you two have done that. I’ll keep your breakfast warm on the back of the stove.”

  “Denki.” Leah went outside and got on the horse. They went across the main road and down the winding dirt path.

  It wasn’t like her mother to let her off the hook so easily for missing a meal. Jacob, however, could get away with a lot. Because Mamm was so grateful to have him back home, she was easier on him than the others, including Samuel.

  Noticing that she’d fallen back a bit, Leah tapped her heels against the horse’s ribs. It picked up its pace until she and Jacob rode side by side. “We haven’t done this in a long time.”

  “I know. Think you can keep up?” He gestured, giving her a head start on the challenge to race.

  She spurred her horse to a canter, but Jacob soon passed her. He still wasn’t going nearly as fast as he could. If he were, he’d now be out of sight with only a cloud of dust surrounding her. She clicked her tongue and pressed her feet in, urging her horse to gallop. The cool morning air felt good against her skin as they raced down the hill and toward the willow tree near the creek.

  He arrived first, brought his horse to a stop, and removed his hat, acting as if he’d been waiting there for a really long time. Bringing her horse to a halt, Leah pointed at him. “You win again.” She swallowed back her nausea.

  He chuckled. “You had doubts?” He clicked his tongue, and they rode slowly, watching the sun lift off the horizon like a hot-air balloon.

  She knew if she didn’t ask him a question, he wouldn’t volunteer anything. “Do you regret coming home?”

  “Not a bit.”

  “But you had complete freedom. No Old Ways bogging you down, no religious rituals. You could do anything you want. Don’t you miss that?”

  “I miss scuba diving.” He grinned as if remembering the pleasure of it. “The beauty of being underwater can’t be matched. I’ve never experienced anything like it, not before or since.”

  “I don’t even know how far the ocean is from here.”