“Mamm’s getting worse. You said so yourself,” Bart said.
“But she’s manageable. Truly. It’s fine, Bart. Really.” Rhoda sent up a frantic prayer. Please, please, Gott, let us be able to stay there. Please.
“Would you rather live with Martha or Donna?”
“That’s not it at all. We’d rather stay home.”
Bart picked up a shovel and moved it to the side of the barn. “What did Matthew say? About leasing?”
“He’s considering it. He’ll get back to me.”
“I want him dealing with me.” Bart walked close, standing before her. “Do you hear me?”
“I hear you,” Rhoda murmured. “Does this mean we can have the winter?”
“I don’t know. I’ll think on it some more.”
“Thank you, Bart. Thank you.” Rhoda felt huge relief surge through her. She could only hope it wasn’t in vain.
“Nothing is for certain,” he warned. “I’m not promising you a thing.”
“I know. I know.” She turned and hurried back to the house. Maybe it wasn’t for certain, but she had to somehow make sure it was.
If Aaron Raber ended up not wanting her bees, maybe there were others who would. Her honey brought in a tidy sum of money. It wasn’t enough to live on, but if she could get rental money also, maybe it would tip the scales in their favor. She would go back home right away and delve into those library books. Surely, they would give her an idea of how much she could charge.
Chapter Six
The next few days were without incident. Rhoda spent hours at the dining table, pouring over the library books. One of them mentioned prices. They were so painfully low that Rhoda’s spirits sank. She checked the publishing date of the book, praying it was so old that prices would be much higher in the current market. Unfortunately, the book was a mere two years old.
She shoved the volume to the middle of the table. She’d have to rent her bees to every farmer in the district to make any kind of serious money. She looked around the house. Was there something she could sell? She snorted. Selling off odd household goods was no way to make consistent money.
She glanced at her mother, who sat comfortably at the end of the table, cutting out quilt squares. She knew quilts brought in a good deal of money. Englischers loved Amish quilts. The prices some of them fetched were incredible. But she herself didn’t care for quilting, nor was she particularly good at it. Winnie was good at it, but she worked slower than a lame turtle.
No. Quilts wouldn’t work.
Rhoda stood and went to the kitchen, where she paced a circle on the worn linoleum. Maybe moving into Bart’s daadi haus could be a blessing. Maybe her mother would adjust just fine. She peered through the kitchen door to the dining area. Winnie was humming now, her voice nothing more than a thin warble.
Who was Rhoda kidding? Her mother wouldn’t adjust well. She would shrivel up and die. Rhoda moved to the sink and gazed out the window. The wind was blowing. She couldn’t tell how hard because the trees were almost without leaves now, and the branches barely stirred. But the weather vane atop the post next to the drive was spinning.
A walk might do her good. Clear her head.
“I’m going for a walk,” she told her mother. “I’ll be back soon.”
Winnie looked up. “Take your time, dear. I have plenty to keep me busy.”
Rhoda went into the wash room and grabbed her cape. She stepped out the side door and a gust of wind flapped the heavy fabric open. She clutched the edges of the cape and drew them firmly together over her chest. It was downright cold. She set out across the yard, breathing in the frigid air, feeling it deep in her lungs. Cold or not, it felt good.
At the end of the drive, she turned right, heading for Edmund’s Pond. It wouldn’t be long until the pond froze over. In years past, she and her sisters had enjoyed hours of fun slipping and sliding over the thick ice. Oh, how innocent and carefree they had all been then. Rhoda smiled at the memory. She wished she could jump back to those times if only for a minute.
“You’re smiling,” came a deep voice.
Rhoda jerked to a stop. Aaron Raber stood across the road from her. He must have been walking behind her on the opposite side of the road, and she hadn’t seen him.
She gave him a nod and continued walking. Her mouth had gone dry, and she couldn’t think of a thing to say. He kept pace with her, staying on his side of the road. “Something funny? Or do you always smile when you’re walking?”
He’d caught her completely off guard. The last person she thought to see was Aaron Raber. Somewhere, deep in her heart, she’d hoped that he was gone and that was the reason he’d cancelled their dinner. The fact that he was right there on the road beside her only cemented the fact that he simply hadn’t wanted to dine with her.
“You all right?” he asked, real concern in his tone.
She’d taken too long to respond. She gave a quick shudder and then smiled across the road to him. “I’m fine.”
“I felt bad about cancelling our dinner—”
“It doesn’t matter,” she cut in. “No harm done.”
“I realize that, but—”
“As I said, no harm done.” Why was she cutting him off so brusquely? What was wrong with her? She wanted to know why he’d cancelled.
He was quiet then, and she sneaked a look at his face from the corner of her eye. He wasn’t looking at her, but she could clearly see that he was troubled. She continued walking, her pace firm and unnecessarily fast. She was highly annoyed at how her heart was still racing.
She heard him give a sigh of exasperation and before she knew it, he had crossed the street and fallen into step beside her. She stopped. What if someone saw them together? What would they think?
“We shouldn’t walk together,” she said.
His eyes were on hers, and her pulse was drumming now. Surely, it was loud enough for him to hear.
“I know,” he said quietly.
“Well?” She put one hand on her hip.
“You want me to leave?”
Did she? No. No. No. She wanted him to explain himself, which was ridiculous since she was the one who hadn’t let him get a word in edgewise.
Again, she took too long to respond. He grabbed her hand with his large calloused one and pulled her into a small stand of trees to the side of the road. Her eyes stretched wide. The last time any boy had pulled her into the trees was during her five-minute crush on young Peter Fisher in the third grade. He’d poked her in the back behind a large elm tree. She’d squawked, and he’d run off.
And that was the end of that.
“I had to pick up some orchard ladders from Josiah Eash. He used to have an orchard, and his tree ladders were gathering dust. I bought them off him. He was leaving the next day for Illinois. Friday was my only chance to get them.” Aaron spoke earnestly and quickly, as if she would be more mollified if she heard the news fast.
She blinked up at him. “I see.” She took a deep breath, willing her heart to slow down.
“I felt bad about it.”
“I see,” she repeated.
She’d never noticed before that one of his eyebrows was slightly higher than the other. It added to his charm, giving him an even more boyish, daring look, as if he was guarding a precious secret. She raised her hand toward him and then snatched it back, horrified. She had been about to run her finger over his brow. What was she thinking? She didn’t touch any males except her young nephews. Touching Aaron Raber would be completely and totally unfitting, not to mention easily misconstrued.
He glanced down at her hand, which she now flexed by her side. Then he looked at her, and she could see the speculation on his face. Did he know what she had been about to do? Her face burned with shame.
“Have you studied the library books?” he asked.
“What?” She blinked and worked to get her mind under control. “The library books. Jah. Jah, I did.”
“You still haven’t told me whether you’ll
rent me your hives or not.”
“Jah.”
“Jah, you will? Or jah, you haven’t told me.”
“Jah, I will.” She felt as if she’d turned into a blubbering idiot.
A huge smile broke out on his face. “Gut,” he said, nodding. “I’m glad.”
Rhoda bit the corner of her lip and then gazed out beyond Aaron to the road, checking for approaching pedestrians or buggies. “I should go now.”
“Do we need to meet again to discuss things?”
Was he hinting? Did he want her to invite him again for dinner? Except for making financial arrangements and settling on the dates, she didn’t see the need to meet.
“Jah,” she answered, knowing that by then, her face had to be flushed a deep red. “Can you come for supper on Monday?”
His eyes gleamed. “Jah. Next Monday.”
She clasped her cape more tightly about her shoulders and emerged from the trees. She headed back toward her house, but not before hearing him call out, “And I don’t have any ladders to purchase this time!”
She suppressed her smile and bent into the wind.
Chapter Seven
One morning the following week, Rhoda heard the clip clop of a horse and the creak of a wagon in their drive. She walked to the front room window and peered out. It was her sister Donna with the baby. Rhoda opened the door and stepped out on the porch.
“Donna! We didn’t know you were coming.”
“Neither did I until about thirty minutes ago. Here, will you help me secure the reins?”
Rhoda scurried down the steps to help her. “Why didn’t you have your eldest drive you?”
“Mark? Ach, he may be the oldest, but that child’s head is in the clouds. I declare, he’d lose himself if he could.”
Holding the baby in one arm, Donna climbed out of the cart with the practiced skill of a four-time mother.
“Come on inside. It’s getting cold.”
“Getting?” Donna asked. “We done passed that about two weeks ago.”
Rhoda laughed. “May I hold Abby?”
Donna handed her the baby and then smoothed down her dress. “Is Mamm home?”
Rhoda gave her a puzzled look. Where else would she be? “She’s taking a rest.”
“You mean a nap?”
Rhoda snickered. “Jah, but don’t call it that to Mamm. She’ll snap your head off. Do you want me to go get her?”
They were now in the kitchen, and Donna went to the kettle to fill it with water. “Nee. It’s you I want to talk to.”
Rhoda sat down and began rocking the baby, who was nestled quite comfortably in her arms. “All right. What is it?”
“Let me get the tea on first.”
Rhoda waited while Donna put on the kettle, got out two cups, the teabags, and a jar of honey. Then she turned and sat down at the small kitchen table.
“It’s about Mamm.”
Rhoda rolled her eyes. “Have you been talking with Bart? I’ve already explained to him—”
“Bart?” Donna looked confused.
“About his daadi haus.”
Donna gave an impatient swipe at the air with her hand. “Nee. This is about Mamm coming to stay with me.”
“What?” Rhoda couldn’t hide the shock in her voice.
“I’ve spoken with Travis, and he thinks it’s a fine idea.”
Now, that didn’t surprise Rhoda. Travis had always been sweet on his mother-in-law. “But Donna, Mamm doesn’t want to leave this house.”
Again, Donna flung her hand through the air. “It’s because I haven’t asked her yet. She doesn’t know it’s an option.”
Rhoda studied Donna’s face. There was something she wasn’t telling her. It was written there in a look of secrecy or guilt—Rhoda couldn’t decide which one.
“Why the sudden interest in having Mamm stay with you?”
Donna didn’t look her in the eye. “You’ve had her forever. I just think it’s only right that she spend some time with me. And maybe Martha might like to have her, too.”
The baby stirred, and Rhoda patted her gently on the bottom. “You have four kinner, Donna. Having Mamm will make it that much harder.”
“I don’t think so at all.” Now Donna was looking directly at her. “Mamm is still a fine cook. And the kinner love her. They miss her. And Mamm darns better than anyone I know.” Donna gave a hopeful smile. “I think she’ll definitely want to come.”
The picture was becoming clear to Rhoda. “You need help,” she said frankly.
Donna sputtered and then jumped up to check the kettle. “Water’s almost hot.”
Rhoda knew it wasn’t. Their old cook stove didn’t heat water that quickly. “Sit down, Donna. Please.”
Donna sat back down. She sighed. “All right. I do need help.” Tears filled her eyes. “I thought if Mamm was there, she could give me a hand with things. The baby—Abby—she’s a real fussbudget.”
Rhoda studied her sister’s face, and she easily saw the overwhelming fatigue written there. New lines had sprung up around her mouth and eyes, and her forehead seemed to be pinched into a permanent frown.
“I’m sorry, Donna. I didn’t know. Maybe I could come over and help out sometimes.”
Donna shook her head, and tears squeezed from the corners of her eyes. “I just thought…”
But she couldn’t go on. She swallowed and wiped at her tears.
“I’m right sorry, Donna.” Rhoda’s voice was low and soft. She waited while Donna got control of herself.
“I did fine, until this wee one came along. She’s only happy if she’s in someone’s arms every minute of the day. Do you know how that interferes with getting anything done?”
“What about Ruth and Anna? Can’t they help?”
“They do help, but they aren’t that old themselves. Besides, Abby doesn’t like it when they hold her. It has to be me.” Donna looked at the baby in Rhoda’s arms. “In truth, I’m surprised she’s being so good right now.”
“There are mother’s helpers, you know.”
“Mother’s helpers are usually for the first month or two.” Donna sighed. “Fact is, I’m embarrassed to admit that I’m sinking.”
There was a noise at the door of the kitchen. Winnie stood there, leaning lightly on her cane.
Donna leapt from her chair, her face bright red. “Mamm! I didn’t see you there. Do you want some tea? I can get it.” She scurried back to the stove.
“Look who came with Donna,” Rhoda said. “Little Abby. Isn’t she sweet?”
How long had Mamm been standing there? Had she heard it all?
Winnie shuffled over to the table and pulled out a chair. She sat down and folded her wrinkled hands on the table before her.
“So. I’m visiting Donna for a while,” she stated.
Donna flashed a look to Rhoda. Rhoda cleared her throat. “You heard?”
“I heard enough. I reckon I can hold a baby just fine.” Winnie gazed at Donna. “You should have come to me.”
Tears again filled Donna’s eyes. “Jah. I should have. I’m sorry, Mamm.”
“Help is as near as the asking. Didn’t I teach you that?”
“Jah.” Donna took the now whistling kettle from the stove. She grabbed another cup and filled all three of them with steaming water. She plopped a teabag in each one and dripped in a bit of honey.
“I should go up to pack,” Winnie said, but she didn’t move.
Rhoda’s heart went out to Donna. She had no idea that her sister was so overwhelmed. Abby was now six months old. She should be less work now, not more. Wasn’t that right? Rhoda felt a strange pang in her heart. How would she know? She had no children.
Nor a husband.
She blinked and focused back on the topic at hand. Rhoda was quite sure Donna had no idea how weak their mother had become. Or how disoriented. Donna would have to watch her like one of the kinner. She was quite sure her mother would be more hindrance than help.
“I could come,”
Rhoda offered again.
“And who would tend the animals here? And who would watch over the house?” Donna asked. “And those bees of yours—”
“Maybe Bart could come by every day. Or I could go back and forth.”
“Travis and I have talked. We think it’s best for Mamm to come.”
Rhoda blanched. Was Donna saying that she didn’t want her there? “But—”
“I’m sorry. That didn’t come out right.” Donna’s face colored. “It’s just that we’d have to disrupt all the bedrooms if you came, too.”
That was true. Donna’s house was lacking in the bedroom department, and there was no daadi haus. She’d always wondered at the short-sightedness of Donna’s in-laws to skimp in that area.
“Mamm, do you feel up to going?” Rhoda asked.
Winnie’s eyes narrowed. “Why does everyone treat me like I haven’t a brain in my head or a muscle in my body? I’m perfectly capable of helping out my daughter.” She shoved her tea aside, and the liquid sloshed over the side of her cup. She stood. “Now, I’m going up to pack.”
She headed to the door but then paused. She turned around, and her face was creased with concern. “It’ll only be for a while, won’t it? I’ll be back soon?”
Donna glanced at Rhoda, her eyes worried.
Rhoda rubbed her hand over the baby’s back in a circular motion. “Jah, Mamm. Just a little while.”
Winnie’s face relaxed. “All right. You know Zeb built this house for me.” She patted the doorframe. “He did a right fine job, too.” She looked at Donna and smiled, her thin lips slanted upward over her slightly yellowed teeth. “I’m going to die here.”
And with that, she left the room.
Donna sank down in her chair. “What was that?” she asked.
Rhoda shook her head. “She tells me the same thing every day. You’ll get used to it.”
Amish Romance: The Amish Beekeeper: A Hollybrook Amish Romance Clean & Wholesome Story (Rhoda's Story Book 1) Page 5