For Every Season

by Cindy Woodsmall

  Rhoda was desperate to talk but not to Camilla. If she could get to the one man who could restore some measure of peace to her, she would. But neither brother had any desire to talk to her. She loved Jacob, but she needed to talk to Samuel … after she yelled at him for messing up her life as well as the relationship between the three of them. He would have answers, half-baked ones most likely, but by the time they were finished, she’d at least feel some clarity, enough to start sleeping again.

  When she came out of the laundry room, Camilla was in the kitchen with the lights on. “Were you making apple butter by candlelight?”

  Rhoda blew out the candle. “Between it and the glow from the gas burner and all the electronic things in the room, I could see well enough.”

  Camilla’s wry smile didn’t quite override the hint of bewilderment in her eyes. “I’m sorry, but I need to say what’s on my mind. I didn’t ask why Jacob never accompanied you when you came to visit us or why he disappeared altogether when your legal troubles began. And I let you push Bob and me away during that whole mess of false accusations of drug trafficking. But aren’t you ready to talk?” Camilla moved in closer. “For your sake, child.”

  In spite of her desire to keep Amish matters among the Amish, Rhoda’s resolve began to falter. The whole situation was ridiculous. Jacob was finally home after months of being in hiding, and yet Rhoda had never felt so lonely. For her, that was really saying something. She’d spent so much of her life ostracized and alone. Then Jacob swooped in and made the pain of all those days vanish like apples from trees during the harvest.

  A faint smile crossed Camilla’s face. “Las Vegas has a motto: what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. But they have nothing on the Amish or on Rhoda Byler, do they?”

  Rhoda leaned against a counter, lost in her heartache. “I don’t know how I got to the place of living with the Englisch. It all happened in the blink of an eye.”

  Actually, it’d happened in the length of a kiss.

  Samuel.

  She ran her cold, damp fingertips across her lips, remembering the power of those few moments. “Do you understand men?”

  Camilla set a few dishes in the sink. “It took me a lot of years and many a mile traveling down a rocky path after the wrong men, but eventually … after …”

  Rhoda heard the rest of Camilla’s sentence as if she’d spoken it aloud—after my poor decisions caused my son to walk out, never to return.

  Rhoda’s heart turned a flip. It was the strongest confirmation she had felt that Camilla did have a son. The day Rhoda moved into the farmhouse, and even before she met Camilla and Bob, she had often sensed a man and a child trying to tell her something. It was eerie, and Rhoda wished it would go away, but since then, whenever she gently hinted about Camilla having children, Camilla denied it, retreating like a stray dog being chased off by a landowner.

  Camilla picked up a kitchen towel and wiped her hands. “The important thing is I have a bit of a handle on the subject of men these days, and I’ve been biting my tongue since you arrived. But here goes … Are you here because of an abusive man?”

  Was that what Camilla thought—that Jacob, with all his hidden, mysterious ways, was violent? “No.”

  “You’re sure? I told Bob last week that I was suspicious of why you needed to get away from that house.” She shrugged. “He said I should mind my own business. But, well, did your boyfriend hurt you? Are you afraid of him? Or was it that man who came here looking for you one night? What was his name?”

  “Samuel. He’s Jacob’s brother.”

  She hadn’t told Camilla the truth of why she was here because she’d thought it would sound sordid and ugly, but her thinking Jacob or Samuel was violent was even worse.

  “Both men are the reason I’m here. But it’s not what you’re thinking. And probably one good argument could clear the air between me and Samuel.”

  “He’s the one who was angry the night he came here looking for you.”

  “He wasn’t angry. He was worried. It was the middle of the night, the temperature was dropping, and I was missing.” How could Camilla not put that together even without knowing Samuel? “They’re good men, truly.”

  Camilla pursed her lips. “You’re welcome to live here for months if you need to, so don’t misunderstand me. But if you get on so well with them, why do you need a place to stay?”

  Rhoda hesitated. How much should she tell her? She turned on the heat under her batch of apple butter, hoping she hadn’t altered the quality by turning it off in the middle of the cooking time.

  Camilla picked up the wooden spoon and stirred the concoction. “Perhaps I’ve been wrong about why you moved out. It’s possible I’m seeing things that aren’t there.” She tapped the spoon against the pan before setting it aside. “See, I was married for seventeen years to an abusive man.”

  Rhoda wasn’t sure what to say. She knew a little bit about Camilla’s past because she’d had an intuition about Bob and Camilla, and when they both denied having children, she’d asked Landon to run a Google search on them. She still didn’t have any proof about a child, but she had learned there were police reports on a man Camilla was once married to. Even so, hearing the pain in Camilla’s voice was quite different from Landon reading random facts on a computer screen. Rhoda’s knees felt shakier than when she’d heard the voice earlier. “I’m sorry.”

  “I refused to talk about it, just as you’re doing. When forced to discuss it, I made excuses for his behavior. Year after year and injury after injury. To say I have a suspicious nature toward men is an understatement. I know how they can lie and manipulate us. Nowadays I can’t make myself sit by if any woman I know is caught in that.” She lifted her head, her eyes searching Rhoda’s. “You most of all. Can you understand that?”

  It never ceased to amaze Rhoda how the most unexpected people carried invisible and unbearable weight while looking as whole and happy as the next person. Rhoda still carried the grief of losing her sister, but, fortunately, Jacob had helped her let go of her guilt.

  She nodded. Camilla’s concerns made more sense in light of what she’d been through. Rhoda had felt drawn to Camilla from the day she met her, when Rhoda followed the sound of an unfamiliar instrument through the woods to find Camilla, on the patio, playing what she said was a cello. She and Bob had been warm and friendly, so it surprised Rhoda to learn later that they were known for being reclusive.

  “I get your desire to protect me, and I appreciate it, but you have to believe me. Neither Jacob nor Samuel would ever hurt a woman.” Samuel would raise his voice and snap his answers. Apparently Jacob would walk off and refuse to talk. But both would die before using their strength against a woman.

  Camilla studied her and slowly slid her hands into the pockets of her thick terry cloth housecoat. “Okay, if you’re sure, because—” Her expression changed and apparently so did the subject on her mind. “Oh, yeah.” She pulled out a folded envelope. “Saturday morning Bob brought in a letter for you, but you’d already left to go work at the farm, so I slid it into my pocket without thinking. I forgot all about it until now. I hadn’t worn this housecoat since—until I heard the crash a few minutes ago.”

  It was a business-size envelope, and excitement skittered through Rhoda. “From Jacob?”

  Camilla shook her head.

  Disappointment erased Rhoda’s hope, but she took the letter. The return address had a government seal from Orchard Bend, Maine, on it. She had a response from them already? Maybe it wasn’t going to take as long as she thought to get licenses for her canning business.

  She opened the envelope and pulled out the papers.

  “Good news, I hope.”

  “I … I’m not sure.” She flipped through the pages of forms.

  Clearly she had a lot to fill out. She was still paying the price for some teenagers’ accusations that she supplied them with marijuana, and it still angered her. While her life was in limbo due to her legal troubles, she hadn’t had the
time or the presence of mind to pursue the licenses she needed to set up her canning business and be fully functional by harvest—a mere four and a half to five months away. But she’d expected that once she was cleared of the accusations, Samuel and Jacob would help her make up for lost time.

  Since that wasn’t happening, she’d come up with Plan B: pretend her heart wasn’t broken, act like a woman with a brain, and do what she could without their help. If she intended to sell canned goods throughout the Northeast and parts of the Midwest, she didn’t have time to wait until the King men were ready to talk to her again. She had to keep moving toward her goal, including creating new recipes for her label.

  Looking at the cover letter again, she began to understand the situation better. “It’s an explanation of what type of kitchen facility will and won’t be approved.”

  Ach, there was so much she needed to discuss with Samuel and Jacob. Instead, she was forced to make all the tough decisions on her own.

  “And?” Camilla peered over the top of the papers.

  Rhoda’s mind and heart felt as if they were mired in quicksand. “For the type of license I need, the facility can’t be an in-home kitchen that is also used concurrently for family purposes.”

  “You didn’t check the licensing laws before moving?”

  “Sure, but most of our plans were undermined because of my legal issues—like the two families who backed out of coming. They were supposed to lift some of the workload of restoring the orchard while we put our energies into solving the kitchen issue. And because those families aren’t here, Phoebe and Steven haven’t had time to find a home of their own. We had been sure we could find a house with either a second kitchen or the space and plumbing to add one. My legal mess is one reason Jacob was gone so much and hasn’t had time to add a canning kitchen onto the farmhouse. I had to help do Jacob’s work while he was gone, so I wasn’t able to deal with any of this before now.”

  “But he has time now, right?”

  “Time, maybe.” Although their workload in the orchard was increasing as rapidly as the spring temperature. “But no desire.” Rhoda folded the letter and shoved it back into the envelope.

  “So now what?”

  “I don’t know. Jacob is the one who comes up with ideas out of thin air. Samuel is the one who has the know-how to change thin air into reality.”

  “But?”

  Rhoda shrugged. Camilla knew enough to draw her own conclusions. Neither man was talking to her. Actually, she knew Samuel would talk to her if she could get him alone. But if she was going to restore Jacob’s faith in their relationship, she had to avoid being seen with Samuel.

  She went to the kitchen window and pulled back the thick, insulated drapes. Dawn had begun to chase away the darkness, and soon sunlight would shimmer off the patches of remaining snow. It was already the second week of April, but the ground was cold and wet, and mounds of snow still dotted some places, especially in the woods. She needed to dress warmly and head to the farm for another day of partnering with Landon—while being avoided by both Jacob and Samuel.

  Had they moved all this way and gone through so much only to face defeat because she’d kissed—or been kissed by—one brother while the other was away?

  TWO

  Leah opened the back door to go outside. The blue heelers, Ziggy and Zara, charged from the kitchen and nearly knocked the basket out of her hands as they darted past her and raced for the greenhouses. They ran straight to the third one and started barking.

  Well, at least Leah knew where to find Rhoda this morning. Those dogs made a beeline for her when allowed. Ziggy and Zara rounded the corner heading to the front of the greenhouse, and Rhoda apparently let them in, because they hushed.

  Streams of early morning light cast a heavenly glow as Leah carried the basket of food to Rhoda. But the gorgeous scenery didn’t change the fact that today was another ordinary workday, nothing special. She’d already washed and hung out two loads of laundry and then helped cook breakfast and clean up afterward. And it wasn’t even nine o’clock! But those parts of the day were easy compared to what the next few minutes would be like.

  She went into the greenhouse and found Rhoda kneeling, patting the dogs. A row of saplings filled one of the worktables.

  Rhoda looked up. “Guder Marye, Leah.”

  Leah felt queasy. Why did the air itself have to be so thick between her and Rhoda? “Morning.” Leah set the basket on a table. “Here you go.” She wanted to say so much more to Rhoda than a flippant “Morning” or “Here’s some food.”

  Two weeks ago Leah had lured her brothers into the barn, hoping to get them talking, but her plan had backfired. Within seconds her brothers were embroiled in an argument—one that frightened her. Leah had thought that, despite their upbringing, they were going to have a fistfight. Or worse.

  When Jacob yelled, accusing Samuel of trying to ride off with Rhoda, Leah could only guess what he meant.

  The ill will between her brothers made her sick. But she’d learned her lesson that day: stay out of their quarrel. And that meant leaving well enough alone with Rhoda too.

  Besides, Rhoda wasn’t going to open up, so this is what life had become—a few minutes of speaking, passing Rhoda a lunch made for her by Phoebe, and then leaving. It stunk, and it made her heart heavy.

  “Denki.” Rhoda rubbed the dogs’ bellies one last time before standing. “How are you this morning?”

  “Gut. Un du?”

  “Gut.”

  Leah didn’t believe her. Rhoda wasn’t good, but Leah admired her strength.

  “Leah,”—Rhoda set another tree on the worktable—“would you mind terribly if I asked you to fill in for me as Landon’s work partner today? I’d like to get these trees planted.” Rhoda cradled the thin branches. “I think it’s late enough in the season, but if I’m wrong, I’ll know soon enough.”

  “I’d be glad to do that, but if you’re unsure, why not wait?”

  Rhoda pursed her lips as if trying to contain a torrent of sadness. “While walking here today, I thought that if I’m in the field by myself, Jacob might be more willing to approach me and talk.” She forced a smile. “It’s worth a try. Now go on, and keep what I said to yourself.”

  So Rhoda was still willing to try to work things out with Jacob. That was good. Leah set Rhoda’s lunch on the table, picked up the basket, and went to the barn.

  The Kings’ Orchard in Harvest Mills, Pennsylvania, began generations ago. But after a tornado devastated the orchard last summer, Samuel, Jacob, Rhoda, and others pooled their money, took out a loan for the rest, and bought this foreclosed farm in Maine. Because of the damage in Harvest Mills, this orchard’s success was the only way to keep the Kings’ Orchard brand solvent.

  If Rhoda still wanted to patch things up with Jacob, surely it could be done.

  Leah went into the barn. Landon stood in the back of the buckboard as Samuel passed him tanks of oil for spraying the trees. Landon looked up. “Ah, the daily ration of food for me and Rhoda to take to the orchard.”

  “Wrong. Can’t you non-Amish folks get anything right?” Leah grinned at him.

  Samuel paused, clearly waiting for her to explain Rhoda’s plans for the day.

  “Rhoda said she’ll work the field by herself today, planting some of the greenhouse stock.”

  Landon tugged at his gloves. “And just when did this change of plans take place?”

  “About five minutes ago.”

  Samuel nodded and hoisted another tank into the back of the wagon.

  “Landon,”—Leah went to the front of the wagon—“Rhoda said it’s me and you on the back forty, so to speak.”

  “My kind of day.” Landon smiled. “And we’re having a picnic.”

  “In your dreams.” Leah set the basket below the bench seat. “This ain’t no picnic. It’s only a way to keep us from starving while we work until sunset. Have I taught you nothing?” Leah tried to keep a straight face.

  Landon straight
ened, working the kinks out of his back while Samuel turned to get another tank. Leah’s eyes met Landon’s, and he winked. It was a bold move for him, but the longer she knew him, the more she liked his willingness to flirt. He mocked a scowl. “How come I don’t mind this plan and you do?”

  Leah’s heart pounded. Could an Amish girl break away from the fold and live happily ever after in an Englisch home?

  A ring from the phone in the barn office jolted her. Samuel gestured that way. “Could you grab that while we finish loading?”

  “Sure.” When Leah stepped into the office, she was surprised at the messiness of Samuel’s desk. There were several foot-high stacks of paper.

  She grabbed the receiver. “Hallo.”

  “Ya. Des iss Iva Lambright.”

  The girl’s voice trembled, but she’d said her name as if Leah should recognize it. Leah suppressed a desire to give a sassy reply: This is Leah King. Big deal. She chose to respond as Rhoda would have. “Hello, Iva. Is there something I can do for you?”

  “Ya. Duh Du will helfe?”

  Did she want help? For the most part Leah wanted help all the time, but what did that have to do with anything? “I’m not following you.”

  “I sent you a letter last week.”

  “To me?”

  “Well, actually”—the girl took a deep breath—“I read about you in the newspaper, and it sounded as though you could use some help with your orchard and settlement now that your trouble with those girls is cleared up. I thought maybe you might hire me. Am I speaking to Rhoda Byler?”

  “Oh.” The conversation was starting to make a little sense. Rhoda had talked about hiring more help, and she’d even written a want ad to put in The Budget, looking for someone Amish, but that was before the blowup with Samuel and Jacob. “No. This is Leah King.” Leah flipped through stacks of envelopes, searching for the one from Iva Lambright. Most were addressed to Rhoda, and none had been opened. How could they be? Rhoda didn’t visit Samuel’s office anymore.

  “Leah, hallo. Sorry for the confusion, but do you know what Rhoda’s answer was to my query?”