The Amish Beekeeper
Hollybrook Amish Romance Rhoda’s Story #1
Brenda Maxfield
Contents
Personal Word from the Author
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Continue Reading…
Thank you for Reading
More Hollybrook Amish Romances for You
About the Author
Personal Word from the Author
Dearest Readers,
Thank you so much for reading one of my books! Your kinds words and loving readership make my day. As a thank you, I would like to give you a simple gift of my two favorite Amish recipes and keep you up-to-date with new releases and special offers.
Click Here To Get Your Free Recipes
Copyright © 2017 by Tica House Publishing LLC
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Created with Vellum
Chapter One
For which cause we faint not; but though our outward man perish, yet the inward man is renewed day by day.
2 Corinthians 4:16 (KJV)
Winnie Hilty’s arthritic hand darted out and batted at her daughter’s shoulder.
“I hear them,” her voice scratched out. “Get them off of you. Get them off!” She grew increasingly agitated. “It’s the buzzing! It won’t stop.”
“Mamm,” Rhoda said, her voice soft and crooning. “There are no bees on me. They’re all outside.” She grabbed her mother’s thin hands and pressed them to the old woman’s lap. “Don’t fret so. Everything’s fine.”
Winnie’s watery eyes stared into Rhoda’s. There was a blankness there that grabbed Rhoda’s heart. Her mother was worse—and she was getting worse every day.
“Come on,” Rhoda said, putting her arms around the woman’s shoulders. “Let’s get you to the kitchen. You can sit by the warming stove, and we’ll have a nice cup of tea.”
Winnie blinked in confusion as Rhoda gently guided her into the kitchen.
“Sit here, Mamm. It’s nice and warm.” Rhoda placed her mother in the old white rocker. It barely moved under Winnie’s slight weight.
There was a fire going in the stove, albeit a small one. Being only October it hadn’t really turned cold yet, but Rhoda knew that Winnie felt every breeze as if it were a rush of ice. Even now, she shivered under Rhoda’s hands.
The kettle on the stove whistled, and Rhoda made a hot cup of chamomile tea for her mother. Old Mae, the healing woman in their district, claimed that chamomile tea cured every ailment known to man. Rhoda gave a wry smile. It wouldn’t touch what ailed her mother, but it was a comfort nevertheless.
“The bees?” Winnie asked. “I hear ’em.”
“But Mamm, that’s not possible. They’re all out behind the barn. You know that.”
“I hear ’em!” Winnie insisted. “Buzzing. All the time buzzing. Makes me dizzy.”
Rhoda knew it would do no good to argue with her. Indeed, Rhoda had no interest in arguing at all.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ll keep them quiet.”
Winnie took a timid sip of the steaming tea. She rested the cup in the saucer on her lap. “Is there honey in the tea?” she asked. “Tastes right sweet.”
“Jah. I put in one teaspoon just how you like it.”
Winnie smacked her lips together. She looked better now. Her eyes were more focused, and there was some color in her cheeks. “What’s for supper, daughter?”
“We’re going to have roast beef sandwiches. And some of this year’s pickles. How does that suit?”
“Gut. Wonderful gut.” Winnie took another sip of tea. “I’m sorry to be such a bother.”
“You aren’t a bother, Mamm. Don’t say such things.”
“Nee. I’m a bother. Especially when I have a spell.”
Winnie had taken to calling her lapses of reality spells. Old Mae called them nothing more than getting old. But for Rhoda, it didn’t matter what they were called. They were worrisome. It was almost as if the woman’s brain regularly went into a tailspin for an hour or so. Or worse, it turned off completely. Her mother would become disoriented. She forgot even the most basic things.
With Rhoda’s father deceased and her two sisters and brother married with families of their own, Winnie’s care fell to her. Rhoda didn’t mind. Not really. But sometimes it kept her awake at night. Especially when Winnie got it in her mind to wander the house in the dark of midnight.
Rhoda took a sip of the tea. The honey was a good batch, sweet and smooth.
Rhoda headed for the sink, and Winnie grabbed her arm, pulling it more strongly than one would have guessed possible.
“You won’t let them take me, will you?”
Rhoda looked at her mother. “Take you? What do you mean?”
“I want to live here till I die. Your father built this house, you know.”
“Jah, Mamm, I know. And who would take you anywhere? Of course, you’ll live here till you die.” She patted her mother’s shoulder. “Which won’t happen for a long time now, will it?”
Winnie chuckled. “Nee. Nee. Not for a long time yet. I’m still alive and kicking.”
Rhoda smiled and turned to the sink. She hoped the Lord God would forgive her the small lie. Because it wasn’t true—someone did want to take her mother away.
At sunrise, Rhoda was out with her hives. They were placed behind the barn where it was level and they would get the early morning sun. The bees put in a longer day’s work that way, which gave Rhoda more honey to use and sell. She loved her bees and well-remembered when she’d started keeping them. Her dat had encouraged her, even helping her catch her first swarm to get started.
Rhoda checked the bird baths she’d placed near the hives. They were still full of water, the October sun not evaporating them as quickly as during the summer months. Of course, the birds still dove in and splashed happily about, but Rhoda was glad to have them. She didn’t mind refilling the baths when needed. She dipped her finger into the cold water. If she didn’t give her bees a source of water close to home, they would invade someone else’s property, searching. She knew for a fact that her bees frequented Edmund’s Pond when they were out and about. Some neighbors didn’t take kindly to it, not appreciating clouds of bees around, trying to get at the water.
Rhoda’s sister Donna had screamed and thrown a hissy fit once when she and her children were swimming in the pond and the swarm swooped in for a drink.
Rhoda stood and looked out over the vast fields, most of which her brother Bart farmed for them. He was weary of it, though, having taken over his wife’s family farm. Farming both pieces of land was too much, no matter how hard he worked—a fact which he bemoaned to Rhoda on more than one occasion. Rhoda sighed. Bart was a good brother. But as the eldest and the only remaining male in the family, he could get downright bossy.
Rhoda’s cheeks grew warm. She shook her head, scolding herself for such thoughts. It was Bart’s place to be in charge, and it was her place to obey. She set her lips in a fine line. Obeying didn’t come easily to her, no matter how many times she was instructed i
n it or scolded for her lack of it.
Not that Rhoda was scolded much these days. She was twenty-six years old—an old maid in most people’s minds. No, outright scolding wasn’t necessary anymore. A well-placed burning look did the job quite nicely.
Rhoda lifted the lid off the hive and waggled her hive tool to check the first box. She didn’t wear her protective gear anymore. Indeed, she no longer had gear that fit her very well. Of course, the head gear and veil and gloves were still fine, but the suit, not so much. By then Rhoda knew her bees well, and they seemed to know her. She hadn’t been stung in years.
She grinned, keeping her lips closed. She’d once seen an Amish man wear a beard made of bees. It was amusing, but she thought it a bit showy. The tourists loved it, though, which was probably why he did it in the first place. Rhoda wasn’t interested in tourism. She was interested in her bees and the delicious honey they produced. She made a fairly good profit with the golden nectar, and to be honest, she and her mother needed the money.
Soon, it would be time to overwinter the hives, but she reckoned that she still had at least one more batch of honey to collect.
She heard the sound of a wagon approach and knew it would be her brother. Not many other people came by. She finished her inspection and then walked back around the barn. The bees didn’t follow her, although one remained on her sleeve until she was just about to Bart’s wagon before it flew away.
“Rhoda,” Bart said with a smile. “You tending your hives?”
“Jah. I didn’t expect you today.”
“Have you seen to the livestock?”
Rhoda gave him a look. “Of course, I have, Bart. You know I take care of the animals.”
Bart had the decency to look a bit sheepish. “Just making conversation.”
Rhoda grimaced.
“How’s Mamm today?”
“She had a spell yesterday, but she seems to be fine today.”
“Her spells are coming more and more frequent.”
Rhoda started toward the house, and Bart strode beside her. She agreed with him. “They are. It’s all right, though. I can handle it.”
Bart stopped and put his hand on Rhoda’s shoulder. “I don’t rightly think you two should spend another winter here by yourselves.”
Rhoda tensed. Here it came. Again.
“Rhoda, you know we’ve discussed this.”
“Nee. We haven’t discussed it at all. You’ve made your proclamations. But you know how I feel. And you know how Mamm feels.”
“Mamm doesn’t even know how she feels. She’s not in her right mind a lot of the time.”
“She knows that she doesn’t want to move.”
They’d reached the front porch, and Winnie was nowhere to be seen. Rhoda gestured to one of the rockers on the porch and Bart sat down. She sat beside him.
“Evelyn is in agreement,” Bart said. “We need to move both you and Mamm into our daadi haus. It’s got two bedrooms. It’d be right comfortable for you.”
“I know what your daadi haus looks like,” Rhoda said, her voice tight.
“It’s too much to keep up the place here,” Bart said. “Now, if you were married, it’d be another matter.”
Rhoda’s back stiffened. “That isn’t likely to happen,” she said tersely. She had no beau. She had no interest in any of the men in the district. Not that she knew them all. But watching over the farm, her mamm, and her bees took every bit of energy and time she had. Romance held no place in her life.
“We can sell the place. Donna and Martha and me are all well-placed now. It’s only you and Mamm that need a home.”
“We have a home,” Rhoda said. “Right here.”
“You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t. And besides, Bart, why don’t you move in here and take on this place. It’s the family farm.”
“You know the farm Evelyn got from her folks is bigger. We got four kinner now, and we’ll have more. I need the bigger farm to support the family.”
“But your mamm lives here.” Rhoda stared at her brother. He and Evelyn took care of Evelyn’s mother, who lived with them. Rhoda felt that Bart had put his mother-in-law before his own mother.
“Rhoda.” Bart sighed and braced each of his hands on a knee. “I’m telling you that I will take care of you and Mamm. You need to move in with us in the daadi haus. I could sell this farm, and then we’d have money to make all sorts of improvements on my farm.”
“So you’re calling Evelyn’s family farm yours, now?”
Bart rolled his eyes. “Why are you being so obstinate? I’ve got a solution for everyone.”
“I don’t need a solution. I don’t recall ever saying I had a problem.” Rhoda sat straight and tall, but even as the words flowed from her mouth, she knew they weren’t true. She and her mother barely scraped by each year. If not for Bart farming most of the land, they wouldn’t make it at all.
“The decision has been made.” Bart looked at her.
Rhoda jumped from the chair. “What do you mean? Now I have no choice?” Her breath came quick and short. He couldn’t do this to her. He couldn’t take her and her mother from their home.
But he could. Oh, he could.
“I’m not your enemy, Rhoda. I’m trying to make this better for everyone.”
“Give me the winter,” she said. “Give me the winter, at least.”
“What for?” Bart threw up his hands. “The winter ain’t going to change a thing.”
“You don’t know that.”
“You don’t even get honey during the winter.”
“I know that.” Rhoda’s mind whirled. “I’ll think of something.”
Bart leaned close. “Why don’t you just get married like any normal Amish girl? Huh? Then you can go live with your husband, and I’ll take Mamm with me.”
Her eyes widened. “You just said if I got a husband, I could stay.”
He shook his head and gave her an exasperated look. “But you won’t get a husband, will you? So it don’t make any difference either way, does it?”
She stood to her full height. “Is there anything else you wanted?”
His eyes had a sad look of compassion in them as he stood. “I thought I’d visit Mamm while I’m here,” he said, going to the screen door and opening it with a squawk.
Chapter Two
“Rhoda?” Winnie called. “Rhoda? Are you in the house?”
“Mamm, I’m here,” Rhoda answered, whisking into the front room from the kitchen. “What do you need?”
“Bart came to see me yesterday.”
“I know. I was here, remember?”
Winnie’s wrinkled face screwed up in thought. “Ach! So you were.”
Rhoda wiped her hands on the dish towel she carried. “It was nice of him to come by.”
“He wants me to live with them. With him and Evelyn and the kinner.”
Rhoda eyed her mother, trying to determine her level of upset.
Winnie waved her hand. “I told him nee. Of course not. My place is in the house Zeb built me. With you. We’re fine, aren’t we?”
Rhoda nodded, even as her throat went dry.
“That’s what I told him. That we were fine.”
“Would it be so bad, Mamm? I mean, if we did have to go?”
Winnie’s eyes narrowed. “Would it be so bad?” she repeated, as if stupefied. “It would be downright heart-breaking. I can’t leave my house. Who would tend my roses? Who would polish the furniture? Who would organize the cellar?”
“Evelyn has roses at her place.”
“Maybe so. But they aren’t my roses.” Winnie tapped her cane on the floor. “Nee. I’m staying put. I’m planning to breathe my last in this here house.”
Rhoda’s eyes grew moist. “Jah, Mamm. Don’t fret now. Would you like some cookies? I just baked a batch of snickerdoodles.”
Winnie’s face relaxed. “Snickerdoodles? Oh, I shouldn’t.” She patted her waistline. “Putting on a few rolls lately.”
> “Hardly. You’re like a scarecrow.”
“All right. Give me two.” Winnie giggled.
Rhoda went to fetch the cookies, and she heard her mother call out after her. “Nee. Make it three, daughter! Bring me three.”
Rhoda snickered, knowing full well that she’d serve her mother four, and the woman would gobble up every crumb. Her mother was partial to sweets, and Rhoda indulged her whenever possible.
There was a knock at the front door, and Rhoda hurried to answer it, the plate of cookies in her hand. She opened the door to a man of probably no more than twenty-eight or so. Although, on further study, he could be as much as thirty. He held his straw hat in his hand, and his face was clean shaven. Unmarried, then, her mind told her. His clear blue eyes were serious.
“I’m looking for a Rhoda Hilty. Do I have the right place?” His voice was low and melodic. Rhoda imagined he added a lot to the church singing on service Sundays.
“You’ve found her,” she stated.
“The name is Aaron Raber,” he said, tipping his head at her.
“Gut to meet you. How can I help?” Rhoda asked. She didn’t recognize him. Perhaps he was from the neighboring district of Linnow Creek.
“I’m new to the area,” he said. “Bought the Stutzman place over yonder.” He gestured with his head.
“I’m familiar with the Stutzman place,” she murmured. “They moved out nigh on to three years ago.”
“Jah.” He fingered the rim of his hat. “The place needs a lot of work. They had orchards out back.”
Rhoda nodded. “The orchards didn’t do well. My dat never figured out why the Stutzmans didn’t just farm corn and soybeans like the rest of us.”
Aaron gave her a crooked grin. “I aim to get the orchard back up and running.”
Rhoda raised her brows. This was a surprise. Why would someone come in to take over a business that had failed?
Amish Romance: The Amish Beekeeper: A Hollybrook Amish Romance Clean & Wholesome Story (Rhoda's Story Book 1) Page 1