Amish Romance: The Amish Beekeeper: A Hollybrook Amish Romance Clean & Wholesome Story (Rhoda's Story Book 1)

by Brenda Maxfield

  She shook herself. Maybe she was just feeling badly for Donna. She’d never seen her sister so forlorn. Or tormented. What was wrong with her? She had a healthy family, a strong faith, a loving husband. Rhoda paused and leaned against the doorframe. Donna should be the happiest person alive. But she wasn’t.

  Rhoda pinched the bridge of her nose. Was this further evidence of the benefits of staying single? Well, if it was, then Rhoda should be jumping for joy right now.

  Honestly, she scolded herself. Here you are pondering the woes of Donna when you yourself are acting like a sorry little girl with no friends.

  Rhoda hurried up the stairs to her bedroom. She slipped out of her dress and snatched the green one off its peg. She was going to wear it after all. She took off her kapp and fetched a fresh one from her top drawer. She re-twisted her hair and smoothed it flat with her palms. She bobby-pinned the fresh kapp in place and then picked up the hand mirror from the top of her dresser. Yes. Everything was in order.

  At the last minute, she decided to brush her teeth again. Once that was done, she checked her watch and saw that it was close to five o’clock. She ran downstairs and put on her best cape. She’d walk to Edmund’s Pond. Otherwise, where would she hide her pony cart while Aaron took her to dinner? And it would be dark when they returned, so he would probably drop her off at the end of her drive on their way home.

  She felt more herself as she raced across the yard to the main road. Once there, she walked with her usual decorum. If she was seen skipping and hopping down the road with excitement, it would set tongues wagging. She scanned the sky. It was already overcast and even darker clouds seemed to be moving in. No matter. Her mind was fixed on Aaron Raber and their upcoming time together. Nothing, not her sister, not her mother, not her financial worries or the fact that Matthew hadn’t yet gotten back to her, nothing was going to drag her spirits down.

  Thank You, Gott, she whispered. Thank You for Your care and love and guidance. Let this evening go according to Thy will.

  She turned the corner and saw Edmund’s Pond up ahead. To the side of the bank was a closed buggy. Rhoda’s breath caught. There he was. Early. Maybe he was as eager as she was. She sped up a bit and when she got to the black vehicle, the door opened. She peered inside.

  “Hello, Aaron,” she said.

  “Rhoda.” His eyes were warm on hers.

  She climbed inside and sat down, arranging her cape over her legs, glad that she’d worn her long one.

  “Were you chilly on the way here?”

  “Nee,” she said, glancing at him with a smile. “It was fine.”

  In truth, it had been chilly, but she’d barely noticed. He slapped the reins through the opening in the buggy and clicked his tongue. Rhoda sat stiffly, bracing herself against each bump and turn. She didn’t want to knock into him by accident. She already felt unnerved enough simply sitting so close to him.

  “I thought we might go to Emma’s Kitchen.” He glanced at her.

  “That’d be right fine,” she murmured.

  Emma’s Kitchen was popular among the young people. Both her sisters had dined their more than once when they were being courted. Rhoda could only hope that no one was there that she knew. She truly didn’t know if this evening classified as a date or simply as a meal to discuss business.

  She found herself wishing fervently for the former.

  Emma’s had a large parking spot which easily accommodated buggies and horses. When Aaron pulled into the lot, Rhoda saw only one other buggy already there. She let out her breath. Good. Maybe she wouldn’t know whoever it was.

  Aaron pulled his horse to a gentle stop and secured the reins. He came around to Rhoda’s door and opened it for her. She stepped down, and together, they walked inside. The heat hit her squarely when they entered the lobby area. She started pulling at the collar of her cape, not wanting to start perspiring more than she already was.

  “Will that be just the two of you?” the waitress asked.

  Aaron nodded. The woman led them to a small private table in the corner. Rhoda gulped. Evidently, the waitress thought this was a date. They were seated and handed menus.

  “I came here last week and had the pork roast and potatoes. It was really good,” Aaron said to her as he scanned the menu.

  He was there last week? Had he taken someone else out? Rhoda flushed, working to control her runaway thoughts.

  “That sounds nice,” she said. She closed her menu. “I’d like that.” She was fond of pork, and right then, she felt too nervous to study the menu.

  He set his menu aside on top of hers. “We’ll order two, then.”

  She nodded. An uneasy silence fell across the table. She squirmed, trying to think of something to say. She decided to get down to business.

  “I’ll have my bees ready for you when your orchard is ten to twenty-five percent in bloom. From what I read, you’ll need hives at intervals of every two hundred to three hundred yards. Maybe you can give me your exact figures. And I’m supposed to locate the hives downwind, because my bees will work better upwind.”

  Aaron raised his eyebrows. “You really have been studying.”

  Rhoda flushed. “The books from the library were quite helpful.”

  “So in the meantime, how do your bees survive the winter freeze?”

  Rhoda smiled, on familiar territory now. “They stay in their hives and feed off their stored honey. They form a cluster inside and rotate their positions. The bees on the outside edge slowly inward to exchange places with the bees on the inside until they’re in the center where it’s warmest. Then they rotate back to the outside all over again. It’s like an ongoing circle.”

  He stared at her. “And how did you discover that? Stand there and watch them?”

  She laughed. “Nee. Isaiah Auer taught me. I bought my first supplies from him.”

  “I see.” He grew quiet but kept smiling at her.

  “What?” she finally asked, uncomfortable under his gaze.

  “You love them, don’t you? The bees.”

  She nodded. “I do.”

  The waitress brought them two glasses of water and then flipped her order tablet to a new page. She pulled a pencil from behind her ear. “You ready to order?”

  “We’ll each have the pork roast dinner,” Aaron said.

  The waitress scribbled it down, asking them which dressing they wanted, and then tucked her tablet back into her apron pocket. “It’ll be right out,” she said and left.

  Rhoda took a moment to look around the restaurant. She hadn’t seen anyone Amish when she’d walked in. But with a buggy outside, there had to be some Amish folks somewhere.

  “Are you staying alone then?” Aaron asked.

  “Jah.”

  “In that big old house? All alone?”

  “Jah.”

  He frowned. “Not common, is it?”

  She stiffened. Was he going to criticize her living arrangements? Her shoulders tensed. “I suppose not.”

  He leaned back in his chair. “I live alone, too.”

  With his words, her eyes began to burn. She felt a sudden urge to cry. She blinked rapidly and looked down at the napkin she’d placed in her lap.

  Neither said anything for a long moment. The very air between them had become too intimate, too telling. Rhoda shifted in her seat, frantically searching for a change of topic.

  “It’s been cold, hasn’t it?” she uttered. She wanted to clap a hand over her mouth. What a completely inane thing to say.

  He looked at her but didn’t respond. His expression was tender. For a fleeting second, she thought he might reach out and touch her. She barely stopped herself from leaning toward him.

  “It can be lonely,” he whispered, not taking his gaze from her.

  She inhaled sharply, and unshed tears sprang to her eyes. She swallowed. “Sometimes,” she admitted.

  “Why, Rhoda Hilty!”

  Rhoda jerked back. She looked up at May Roth, the girl who used to get a one hund
red percent on everything in school right on through the eighth grade. May’s eyes were wide with curiosity. She glanced back and forth from Rhoda to Aaron.

  “Oh, May. How nice to see you. Can I, um, introduce you to Aaron Raber? He’s new to the district.”

  May smiled. “I’ve heard your name spoken,” she said to Aaron. “Welcome to Hollybrook.”

  Aaron gave her a nod. “Thank you.”

  “Well, I certainly don’t want to interrupt your dinner,” she put added emphasis on the word, “but my husband and I are ready to go home.”

  Rhoda saw May’s husband paying the bill. May stood for another few seconds, observing the two of them with undisguised interest.

  “All right then. I need to go. Bye, Rhoda.” She looked at Aaron. “Nice to meet you, Aaron Raber.”

  With a swoosh, she was gone from their table.

  Rhoda bit the corner of her lip. Aaron shook his head and began to chuckle.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “We’re going to be the evening news around the community,” he said, now laughing outright. “She’ll have broadcast the news of our dinner through every household by bedtime.”

  Rhoda grimaced. He was right. He was completely right. Her old friend May had been out-and-out giddy with her discovery of them.

  “It wouldn’t be so bad, would it?” he asked, growing serious. He smiled at her, his eyes dark and luminous.

  She swallowed, unable to take her eyes from his. “What do you mean?” she eked out.

  “It wouldn’t be so bad if everyone knew we had a meal together.”

  Rhoda pressed a hand to her chest. Her mind swirled with the thought. People would automatically assume they were courting. And courting was supposed to be kept a secret. But at their age? The two of them were hardly teenagers, were they? They probably had close to sixty years between them. As such, did they fall into the secrecy tradition?

  She gulped in air. Wasn’t she assuming something with such thoughts? What had Aaron meant by his question? Was he really asking her if he could court her? Is that what he’d meant?

  Her heart hammered inside her. How she wanted it to be true. She felt every cell in her body straining to be close to him. To get to know him. He was smiling at her, a half smile that was so fascinating, so magnetic, that she wanted to melt as his feet.

  “It just dawned on you, didn’t it?” he asked. “What I implied.”

  She drew in a jagged breath and nodded. She suddenly felt as if she were a teenager again. A teenager winded with her first love.

  “Well?” he asked.

  Rhoda’s present circumstances flashed through her mind. Her mother’s frailty and vulnerability and her dependence on Rhoda. Her sister’s depression and fatigue. Rhoda’s lack of finances. Her brother’s threats to disrupt them all. Rhoda’s promise to her mother that she now doubted she could keep.

  Everything was up in the air. Nothing was certain anymore. So much was yet to be settled.

  And what about her… What did she want? Was she willing to risk her heart and her future on this attractive near stranger sitting across from her? Was she?

  Aaron’s smile faded. “Rhoda?” He was clearly nervous now.

  “Nee,” she whispered.

  His face fell. He had misunderstood her. She reached across the table and touched his fingers. “Let me finish.” She inhaled deeply. “What I am saying is, Nee, it wouldn’t be so bad if everyone knew we had shared a meal.”

  He brightened and broke into that dear crooked smile of his. She moistened her lips and smiled right back. They sat there for a long moment, simply gazing at each other.

  And then the waitress brought their meal, and together, they began to eat.

  The End

  Continue Reading…

  Read more about Rhoda, Winnie, and Aaron!

  Rhoda’s Story #2 The Accident!

  Rhoda’s Story #3 Coming Home!

  If you have already read all three books of Rhoda’s Story, are you wondering what to read next? Why not read Byler’s Bed & Breakfast? Here’s a sample for you:

  Naomi Byler stared at the ledger book, praying the numbers would magically morph into something with promise. Maybe if she squeezed her hazel eyes closed and then fluttered them open again, the minus sign would become a plus, and all would be well. But she knew it was hopeless. She blinked twice. It was no use.

  She worked to keep her thin shoulders from slumping. She spent too much of each day curled in on herself, shielding her heart. As if that would help.

  “Mama!” Katy cried as she rushed into the front room where Naomi sat at the heavy oak desk. “Ben’s awake.”

  Naomi gazed at her eleven-year-old daughter. Katy stood before her, panting slightly. As usual, strands of auburn hair had escaped her kapp and wisped about her face as if she were standing in a continual breeze. Her large blue eyes, looking as if they held a thousand mysteries, stared back at her mother.

  “Is he up, then?” Naomi asked.

  “Nee. He’s rustling about, though, and should be down in a minute. Should I pour the milk?”

  “Jah. I’ll be right in.”

  Katy ran off to the kitchen, and Naomi rose from the desk. Looking at the books so early in the morning did her no favors. The mood was now set for the day. She knew it wasn’t wise to sit and figure the numbers over and over, but they plagued her mind in the wee hours of the night, and nearly every morning saw her sitting at the desk her brother-in-law had made for her husband, Isaac. Her dead husband, Isaac. Naomi sucked in air and hesitated before joining her daughter. She couldn’t let Katy see her again with tears in her eyes. The poor child had witnessed her mother crying too many times of late.

  She squared her shoulders and walked with determination into the kitchen. Katy had lit the lamp in the early morning darkness and was busy pouring the milk. “Mama, didn’t you make the eggs yet?”

  Why, of course, she had. Naomi glanced at the stove. It sat there, pristinely clean, with nary a skillet in sight. She swallowed hard and realized that once again, she’d neglected her basic duties. Not only neglected them, but didn’t even remember that she hadn’t done them. What was happening to her? Did Isaac take her mind with him when he passed?

  “I thought we could make the eggs together,” Naomi said, as if that had been her plan all along.

  Katy gave her mother a questioning look but then smiled. “I like cooking eggs with you.”

  Bless you, child. Naomi knew her daughter was wiser than her years, and thanked God for her. Katy took the bowl of eggs from the fridge and carried them to the counter. “I’ll collect today’s eggs later this morning, Mama. Don’t you worry.”

  Naomi gave her a grateful smile. “I’m not worried, Katy girl.” A flash of guilt swept through her. More and more often, Naomi felt their roles were reversed and Katy had become the adult, and Naomi had become the child. It wasn’t good. Or right. But Naomi hardly had the energy to turn it around.

  Lately, she hadn’t the energy for much of anything. Except worry. Somehow, she always managed to have energy for that.

  “Morning, Mama,” Ben said from the doorway. His sandy blond hair was tussled, and he had sleep in his eyes. Naomi opened her arms to him, and he ran to her, squeezing her around the waist.

  “Did you sleep well, little man?”

  Ben nodded and let her go. “I’m hungry.”

  “We’re cooking eggs,” Katy said, breaking the last two into the skillet. A pleasant sizzle filled the air. “I’m gonna fry them this time.” She held the spatula up like a banner. “Mama, I’m not gonna break any of the yolks. You just watch and see.”

  “That’s my girl,” Naomi said. She gave a small chuckle. “Katy, you’re going to fly right past me as the cook of the house.”

  Katy grinned, a happy flush covering her cheeks. “Ah, Mama. I could never cook as good as you.”

  In truth, Naomi was an excellent cook. Isaac used to brag about the fluffiness of her biscuits and the flakiness of her
pie crusts. And then he would kiss her cheek—right in front of the children. Naomi loved it. She loved him. She had often wondered if Isaac was a particularly affectionate man because both his parents died when he was young. He was raised by his eldest brother back in Pennsylvania; in effect, becoming one of his brother’s brood. So Isaac knew the brevity of life and had relished every moment.

  The familiar tightness in her chest made it difficult to breathe. She looked away, pretending to need something in a far cupboard.

  “Take the glasses to the table, Ben. Okay?” Katy directed.

  Ben obediently took two glasses of milk to the table. In a moment, he was back for the third.

  “I did it!” Katy cried, brandishing the spatula. “Look, Mama! No broken yolks!”

  Naomi moved to the stove and inspected the eggs. “No broken yolks,” she repeated. “Good job.”

  No broken yolks. But plenty was broken in the Byler household—ever since the accident that had snatched the lives of her husband and her parents from the earth. Naomi watched her two children fussing over the plates and eggs and thanked God for the thousandth time that she hadn’t let them climb into the van that late winter morning.

  Her mind traveled back to the fateful day, as it often did. She wished she could forget it. Forget it all. But every detail was branded into her heart and her mind, and she couldn’t shake them nor stop them from playing over and over and over again.

  “Come on, Naomi. The kids will like the outing,” Isaac had urged her.

  It wasn’t often she had countered Isaac’s wishes, but that morning she was sewing outfits for both children, and she’d wanted them there to try the pieces on. She didn’t want to wait till late afternoon when they would return.

  “And the kids will enjoy seeing the Grayson’s llamas,” Isaac had continued.

  Which was true. Especially Ben. That child loved everything that breathed. But for some reason, Naomi had held firm. “They can go with you next time,” she’d said. “I know Dat will be going back soon to pick up more seed.”

  Her dat had only recently bought the farm they all lived on, bringing them to Hollybrook, Indiana, and a new district of Amish folk. He’d been toying with the idea of leasing land in Pennsylvania where they had lived, but when this land came up for sale, he’d jumped at the chance. He had taken out a mortgage, something Amish were averse to doing. But buying land, farming equipment, and perhaps even a carriage, were considered acceptable reasons to carry a debt. And paying it off in a timely manner was considered a moral obligation.