For Every Season

by Cindy Woodsmall

  Samuel took a deep breath. “We can do this.” He tapped the desk in front of him, fingers splayed. Iva put a pen directly in his path. He grabbed it and circled several pieces of information. Jacob liked how well Iva and Samuel were getting along.

  He took a seat. “You two seem to work together efficiently.”

  Iva tapped her chest. “I work. He plays.”

  Jacob propped his feet on the desk. “Sounds about right to me.” He missed those times when his attraction to Rhoda was free of disappointment and heartache. Those first few months were so blissful, even after the tornado in Pennsylvania. They didn’t hit a rough patch until Sandra needed him on the same night Rhoda had to face her church leaders. Samuel went in his stead. That was the beginning of Jacob’s past slowly and painfully revealing itself to her. The beginning of not being who she needed him to be and trying to make it up to her.

  Samuel frowned, never lifting his eyes from the paper. “Maine’s weather pattern this year has been so unpredictable—mild when it should’ve been howling snow, warm when it should’ve been freezing, and now several frosty nights predicted for the first week of May.”

  Iva grabbed a notepad and laid it beside Samuel. “What’s the plan?”

  Samuel tapped the paper with his pen. “If we all work together, and if the temperature doesn’t drop below twenty-nine, which is what they’re predicting, we may lose only ten to fifteen percent of the crop. We have ten smudge pots in the hayloft.”

  Iva frowned. “We have what?”

  “It’s an oil-burning device. The fuel is in the bottom, and there’s a long chimney neck where the fire burns. It creates a type of smog. The ones in the loft belonged to our grandfather. They’re about four feet high. We’ll use them, but that’s not nearly enough for an orchard this size. Despite my best efforts over the last week, we still don’t have enough fifty-five-gallon drums. So getting more of those, along with plenty of wood, is our first—”

  The phone rang, and Samuel paused to pick up the receiver. “Kings’ Orchard Maine.” He listened for a moment, and soon his eyes reflected angst. “Hang on, please.” He held the phone out to Jacob. “It’s your lawyer’s secretary. She has a deposition date for you.”

  Jacob moaned. Not now! Surely he could help battle the frost before having to leave for Virginia. But then an issue even more pressing came to the forefront—getting Sandra somewhere without him knowing where.

  He pushed mute. “Has Rhoda indicated what she thinks of the plan?” Not that he actually knew what the plan was, only that Rhoda had asked for some time to think it over.

  “Not that I know of.” Samuel gestured toward Iva. “You?”

  She shook her head. “I told her I was comfortable moving forward, and she thanked me, but she was still unsure.”

  “Everyone else is on board with the plan?”

  Samuel nodded. “Appears so.”

  Jacob had been patient and supportive these last six days, trying to free Rhoda’s mind and heart so she could figure out what needed to be done. Apparently that hadn’t helped. Did Rhoda not understand how important it was that Sandra have someone to support her as she was uprooted again? That little bit of emotional encouragement of not having to do this on her own could mean the difference between her coping and her spiraling into a complete depression. Sandra could disappear for a long time, but he didn’t doubt she’d show up again. But when? And with how much damage inflicted on Casey’s soul in the process?

  Jacob fidgeted with the phone, ready to get back to the call. “I’ve been trying to nudge Rhoda to figure out how she feels about Iva’s plan, but it hasn’t worked.”

  Iva moved to a chair. “Since she needs to keep the plan from you, maybe you’re the wrong person to get her to decide.”

  “Maybe so. I hadn’t thought of that. Her mood’s been reflective and unsure. If she gets emotionally charged, like when the tornado came through, she’s completely positive about what needs to be done.”

  Samuel closed the newspaper. “I don’t think her instincts work like that.”

  “It’s worth a try. I can’t go to Virginia knowing where Sandra is going to be, and letting her strike out on her own would be a huge mistake.”

  “Try what?” Samuel asked.

  Jacob pointed to the paper. “While she’s absorbing the bad news about the weather, ask her about Iva’s plan.”

  Samuel looked at her. “He just doesn’t want to be the one to tell his girlfriend the frost man cometh.”

  She smiled at Samuel, an intimate smile, Jacob thought.

  “Ya. Okay, but I doubt I use that weather report like you’re thinking.” Samuel gestured impatiently. “Answer the phone already.”

  He unmuted the phone. “This is Jacob …”

  SEVENTEEN

  Rhoda sat on the floor of the playroom, reading to Arie while Isaac trotted about the room astride a stick horse. Rain pattered against the windows, and Phoebe was in the next room, lying down with a wet washcloth pressed to her lips. The farm itself felt welcoming of her—apple trees as far as the eye could see, a barn with livestock, a kitchen with a fire to knock the edge off the chill and plenty of food for all, the laughter of children, and squabbles inside an old house that had been home to at least a half-dozen generations.

  These past few hours of enjoying the homey side of living had warmed Rhoda’s heart like adding wood to banked embers. This was what she wanted from life—to enjoy the beauty and power of being alive. She’d spent too much of her life trying to pacify others while having to sneak around to follow her intuitions.

  Samuel was right—God hadn’t asked any of them whether He should give Rhoda a gift of insight. He’d simply done it to a girl living inside one of the most conservative Christian groups on the planet. And now she finally felt as if she could accept the oddity of it and stop questioning her motives.

  “Rhodes?” Jacob called through the walkie-talkie.

  It surprised her when his voice made a sort of loneliness wash over her. She missed him even when they were together, and she imagined he would say the same of her.

  By now they should’ve shaken off all the distant feelings of being apart throughout the winter. Did the kiss still stand between them?

  Thoughts of those few seconds made her heart thump a little harder.

  She shifted Arie and fumbled with her apron, trying to dig into the hidden pocket.

  What had happened between her and Samuel? Obviously the kiss, but what really led up to it?

  She pressed the button on the two-way. “Ya?”

  “Are you in one of the greenhouses?”

  “Nee. Phoebe’s not feeling well, so I’m in the playroom helping with the children.”

  “Okay, denki.”

  Rhoda read about the hundred-acre wood from the book Casey had given Arie. Her niece played the lively theme song of Winnie-the-Pooh over and over again. Thankfully, sound didn’t easily travel through the solid-wood doors that separated the playroom from where Phoebe was resting.

  While on the last page of the book, Rhoda was interrupted by a knock on the door. “Kumm.”

  Samuel stepped into the room, and her skin prickled at the surprise.

  “Hi.” He had a newspaper tucked under his arm.

  Isaac hurried to him, scooping up two plastic horses as he went. He held up one to Samuel.

  “You’re not the King I expected to come through that door.”

  “I know.” Samuel took the toy. “Jacob sent me. We need to talk.”

  She didn’t want to discuss business right now, especially not if Jacob wanted her to have answers on a decision she didn’t want to make. “I’m in the middle.” She jiggled the book a bit, giving him a hint. “And if I continue, Arie will likely fall asleep.”

  “Then finish reading. I’ll wait.” He sat on the floor with the toy, and Isaac prattled to him excitedly.

  While Samuel talked and played horses, Rhoda finished reading to Arie. But the words could have been about anything.
All she could hear was Samuel’s soft murmuring to Isaac. It made this cozy rainy day and her contentment with life seem even more complete.

  When Rhoda closed the book, Arie didn’t budge from her lap.

  Isaac ran to the toy shelf and picked up a red barn.

  Samuel leaned his back against a chair and stretched his long legs. “Phoebe’s not feeling well again?”

  “Too nauseated to be on her feet.”

  A half smile tugged at his lips. “A good kind of nauseated, I hope.”

  She covered her mouth with an index finger. “Ya. It’s as you’re thinking, but she’s struggling this time, needing to stay off her feet, so they won’t share the news for a while yet.”

  Arie turned, snuggling against her as her eyelids became heavier. She finally closed them, drawing the deep breaths of sleep.

  When Rhoda looked up, Samuel’s gaze unnerved her.

  She lowered her eyes, studying Arie’s innocent face. “So what’s going on?”

  “Jacob wants your blessing on Iva’s plan. He feels that while you’ve been with him you’ve been too passive to be in the right mood to know what you think about it.”

  “So basically you’re here to rattle my cage.”

  His eyes met hers, a hint of an apology reflected in them. “It’s a given that we have no problem annoying each other, and that often helps us decide on a good course of action.” He returned his attention to the horse and galloped it across the floor as far as his arm could reach. “In his defense you are the one who hates ‘I don’t know’ responses, and that’s all you’ve given him for days.”

  One night last fall she’d dragged Samuel into an argument she was having with Jacob. Sitting here now, she realized her disagreements with Samuel were nothing like the ones with Jacob. She and Samuel were harsher, but when they were done, the air felt like springtime after a rain. She and Jacob held back. He said very little, because it’s who he was, and he needed her to be soft-spoken and careful with her words. But when they were done, she felt as if they weren’t done.

  They needed to work on that.

  “Why is it important I have an answer now?”

  It was several moments before he cleared his throat. “The lawyer’s office called, so Sandra needs to move soon. Jacob wants your decision.”

  “The whole plan makes me anxious.” It defied good sense to give Iva almost three thousand dollars in cash to help Sandra get settled somewhere. They didn’t know Iva that well, but Rhoda couldn’t see a good reason for doubting her, especially after Jacob challenged Rhoda’s attitude about Nicole.

  From his spot on the floor, Samuel gazed out the window. “May I remind you that you’re the one who wanted everyone to brainstorm? Now you’re the one who’s wavering.”

  “If you’re that clear about it, why don’t you give Jacob the answer he wants?”

  He looked at her, one eyebrow raised slightly. “It wouldn’t help. If something backfires or we run short of money for the business because it was spent on this, Jacob needs to know you supported the plan.”

  “Do you agree with it?”

  “I think when Jacob feels strongly about something pertaining to you or Sandra, he’s probably right.” He ran his hand over the braided area rug. “I wish I could go in Iva’s stead. That would make the most sense.”

  “You? It’d be against your role as a church member.”

  “I’ve broken the rules a few times, and I haven’t perished yet. Most would say partnering with you and allowing you to take on such a leadership role in the business is breaking the Ordnung.”

  She was glad he went against the grain on that, but she couldn’t say it without sounding inappropriate. It seemed to her she couldn’t think half of her thoughts or questions about Samuel without them being inappropriate.

  She steadied her heart and focused on why he’d come to speak with her. This situation with Sandra was representative of Jacob and her—one of them having a need the other couldn’t fill. That wasn’t uncommon for couples. No one person could fulfill all the other’s needs. The least she could do was give him peace about what needed to be done. “Iva should follow through on her plan. The checks are cashed, and the money is in the safe.”

  Samuel picked up the newspaper and unfolded it. “You won’t have time to miss Jacob while he’s in Virginia.”

  She read the headline, her heart pounding. “When will the temperature drop?”

  “In two or three days.” He sounded so calm. “If Jacob could postpone the deposition, I know he would. But he said it’s lined up with the attorneys and a court reporter.”

  Several times Jacob had accused her of defending Samuel, but it seemed more like Samuel was the one who found ways to defend his brother. Should she tell him he didn’t need to? Since the night before moving to Maine, she’d realized Jacob had obligations that came ahead of her.

  Cradling Arie, she smiled down at her. Phoebe was at the beginning of another long journey of bringing a child into this world.

  Love was worth all it took to yield a harvest.

  Wisps of Arie’s baby-fine hair had broken free from its confines, and Rhoda brushed it off the little girl’s face. Before Jacob left, she needed to be perfectly clear to Samuel.

  “In a way I suppose Jacob and I might be similar to the orchard and the approaching storm, but I won’t let an untimely frost ruin the crop between us.”

  When Samuel said nothing, she looked up.

  He stood. “I want that for both of you.”

  But as he walked out and closed the door behind him, she realized she had lost her earlier sense of contentment.

  EIGHTEEN

  Iva sat in a booth of a diner with Sandra and Casey. Every muscle in her body ached as she looked through the ads in the local newspaper. There were no shortages of small houses for rent around here, but the prices seemed high. Then again, how would she know? It wasn’t as if she had experience in buying or renting homes in Indiana, let alone here. Is this where Jacob would want his friends, in a small town in New Hampshire? Or should she take them elsewhere?

  Casey picked up a clump of spaghetti with both hands, ate the middle section, and put the rest on her head.

  “Eat. Don’t play with your food.” Sandra removed the spaghetti from the little girl’s hair. “Iva, are you full already?”

  Iva looked at her half-eaten burger. “Ya.” She moaned while stretching. “You like it here?”

  “Better than where we were.” Sandra reached into her purse and pulled out a bottle of ibuprofen. “Jacob will be pleased, if that’s your concern.”

  Iva hoped Sandra was right. It was awkward being in a position to lead and make decisions. She hadn’t realized how much she’d hate the responsibility until she’d driven Landon’s truck to Sandra’s apartment that morning. There she faced the reality that Sandra and Casey would have to live with every choice she made for the next forty-eight hours—at least for now. But she believed Jacob was the reason she’d been invited to stay at the farm, and she wanted to return the favor by helping him out of this jam. And Samuel had been so very kind to her.

  She also needed to prove to Rhoda that she was a good employee. So everything she was doing was worth it. If she had to move Sandra around every month in order to stay out of Indiana, it’d be worth it.

  She circled an advertisement for a small home in a nearby town. “I didn’t realize people could pull up stakes and move so easily.”

  “I wouldn’t call it easy. But that’s what you did by moving to Maine, isn’t it?”

  “I didn’t have any furniture to move or need to find a place to live or have a little one to protect.”

  Sandra took two ibuprofen tablets. “You Amish sure seem to have a thing about protecting children.”

  “I imagine, as a whole, Christians across the world feel the same way. It’s part of the teaching and culture of Christ. Besides, look at her.”

  Casey had marinara sauce over most of her face.

  Sandra held out
two tablets to Iva. “Jacob used to talk of his faith … before I dragged him down to a place where God didn’t exist.”

  “That’s not possible. Wherever a person is, God is there.”

  Sandra had told her a lot today about her relationship with Jacob. The peek inside his life among the Englisch captivated and confused her.

  Iva picked up her water and swallowed the tablets. “It sounds as if he’ll feel much better once he testifies.” How nervous did he feel about now, the night before he was to give his deposition? She turned the paper around for Sandra. “See any I haven’t marked that might be worth looking at?”

  Sandra straightened her ball cap and skimmed them. “No.”

  “You barely looked.”

  Sandra passed her back the newspaper. “Beggars can’t be choosers.”

  Iva laid the paper on the table. Maybe it would help Sandra to know a few things about her story. “We’re all beggars at some point. I arrived at the King farm, begging them not to send me home. My Daed begged me to marry a wealthy widower, and I begged him to reconsider. When he didn’t, my Mamm begged me to take her stash of money and find a place where the men in my family could earn a living.” Iva took a sip of her milk shake. “Of course no one actually begged, but you get the idea.”

  Sandra grabbed a napkin and wiped Casey’s hands. “Your dad sounds like a man who’s willing to sell his daughter for what he wants.”

  Was that what she had conveyed? “No, not at all.”

  “I’m not convinced. Are you?”

  “He encouraged me to marry a good man. Later he added more and more pressure, but the decision was mine.”

  “It was still selfish.”

  “He doesn’t see it that way. In his eyes he’s put an acceptable, godly request on the table. Leon’s a fine man who’s aware of what my father wants from him, and he’s willing to give it.”