“I thought so.”
“The dogs wake you?”
“Ya.”
“Sorry about that.”
“I’d rather be awake with you than asleep without you.”
She chuckled. “I still think you must practice saying all the right things.”
“So what has you up so early?”
She pulled a folder out of a drawer and opened it. “It would be nightfall again before I could cover all of that. But in a nutshell, concern about Camilla’s granddaughter and the need for a canning kitchen.”
“Still no word from the investigator?”
“He tracked Jojo and her daughter to a trailer where they once lived, but they’d been evicted, and there was no forwarding address.”
“I’m sorry. It’ll turn around soon. You’ll see.”
She passed him fliers on a run-down house for sale.
“Rhodes, this is pretty bad, and it’s twenty miles from here.”
“It’s also affordable. It’s the closest one I’ve seen so far. We have to find something we can get a license for and have operational by harvest.” She pushed her chair back. “I’m open for suggestions.”
He shrugged. “No peace about Bob and Camilla’s offer to invest or to loan the money?”
“None.”
“Then I don’t have any suggestions, but this house isn’t a solution.” He held up the fliers. “Look at these pictures. If that’s what it looks like here, I’d rather not look at it for real.”
“But you’re a skilled carpenter. I’ve seen your work.”
“I appreciate your confidence in me, but this doesn’t need a skilled carpenter. It needs a magician. According to this, the water pipes are no longer up to code, which means they all have to be replaced. I’m no plumber. The new owners may need to plow it under and start fresh.”
She took the fliers and tossed them into the trash can. “I need some air.”
“Perfectly understandable when one’s office is in a barn.” He grabbed a blanket and followed her. Maybe after she walked awhile, she’d be ready to find a spot and watch the sunrise.
He took her hand, and they walked deeper and deeper into the fields.
“Isn’t it magnificent, even in the dark?” She gestured across the fields. “The trees are in better health than anyone could’ve hoped for.”
“And the cause for us to spend weeks thinning them.” He wanted her to have a successful canning season. He needed them to get away from Samuel, and she needed a bountiful harvest to can. Between Rueben and the tornado, she’d had two peaceful times of harvest stolen from her over the last year.
Rhoda brushed stray hairs from her face as they climbed the highest hill on the farm. “I don’t know what to do about the canning kitchen, but I feel paralyzed, as if imprisoned until an intuition guides me. But will it? And I can’t sleep, because it’s my fault Jojo and Sophia are still missing. I really don’t like this side of me—the one that gets paralyzed, the one that sees some tiny part of something, hesitates for too long about what to do, and then makes a mess of everything.”
“Whoa. Whoa. That’s my friend you’re picking on. Stop looking at the glass as half-empty. Why do you think it’s your fault that the investigator hasn’t yet found Jojo and Sophia? If it weren’t for you, no one would even be looking for them. Also, understand that the stresses of this farm are enough to erode anyone’s confidence and peace.” Except maybe Samuel’s. His brother thrived on the challenge.
Once they were at the top of the hill, she stood still. “I love this place.”
“You love tending fruit-bearing crops.” Jacob spread the blanket. “This orchard, with twice the acreage of the Pennsylvania orchard, is too much work for the ways of Amish farms.”
Rhoda all but gaped at him. He’d intended to wait to have this conversation, although he wasn’t sure exactly what he was waiting for. Maybe reassurance that she would understand. Maybe knowing that they were strong enough to be this honest. But apparently he’d held his tongue on this for as long as he could. At least they’d had a couple of good weeks since the beach. Hopefully she was ready to hear some of how he felt.
He sat, and she did the same. When they were settled, she made a circling motion with her finger, telling him to keep going.
“Look, when I suggested Kings’ Orchard move here, I had no idea that the extra acreage and the condition of the orchard would require so much overwhelming work. But it drains us all the time. Not just me or you or everyone else, but especially us, as a couple.”
“What are you saying?” She stared at him.
He hoped he knew, but most of all he hoped she was ready to hear him. “Doesn’t it feel as if this farm is more than any of us bargained for?”
She shook her head. “Half the stress of these past seven months has nothing to do with farming.”
“I know. A lot was personal stuff. But don’t you want more days like we had at the beach? More mornings like this”—he gestured across the land—“where we watch the sunrise together, preferably sipping coffee and without a three-day work list that needs to be accomplished in a scant twelve hours?”
He propped his foot on the blanket and rested his arm on his knee. “Rhodes, I think maybe I was wrong to suggest we buy this place. You were devastated after Rueben destroyed your fruit garden. Then the tornado stole your next dream. Samuel needed a new hope to latch on to after the tornado had practically destroyed his orchard. And Kings’ Orchard needed income while the Pennsylvania orchard was reestablished.”
Disbelief radiated from her features. “So we’re feeling pressure from all the troubles that’ve made farming hard this year, and the need for a canning kitchen is bearing down on us, and for those reasons you’re sorry we came here?”
“No, not exactly like that.” What he was sorry about was that his brother was in love with her. Right now he needed to know how to ease into the idea of getting her away from Samuel.
While he thought about what to say, the black sky turned a royal blue as daytime approached. Blossoms swept from the trees, gliding and twirling on the breeze as they fell, much like leaves in late fall. He drew a deep breath. “You and I are in a different place now than when we met. I’m able to pursue carpentry. You’ve earned respect concerning your hunches or insights or whatever they are. We’re both free to rethink what we want.”
Her eyes searched his. “You don’t want to farm?”
Jacob tried to measure his words carefully. “It was never in my heart to do it. I returned to it because I had no choice. But the desire to return to full-time carpentry is growing.” He plucked a white-and-pink petal from an apple blossom off the blanket. “Surely once we’re married and have children, you’ll enjoy tending to something much, much smaller, right? Like what you had before Rueben destroyed it.”
“When I think of having a family, I picture being here, juggling scheduling and baby needs and farming as naturally as we adjust to the change of every season.”
He stifled a sigh and circled the back of her hand with his finger. “A better plan might be for us to figure out a way to live where paydays aren’t connected to a harvest and you would be free to enjoy a fruit garden, not strapped with year-round work.” He hated to say the next part, but it had to be said. “And I think the best way to do that is to move away from here.”
“Move?” She pulled away from him, gesturing with both arms. “This orchard needs me.”
“It does. But you don’t have to live here year round to consult and keep a hand in the operation. There are Amish families desperate for work. Iva’s family comes to mind. Either way, Samuel can hire some good men, and we’d be free to do more.”
Her stare was unnerving. “You don’t want either of us to be involved with the orchard full-time?”
Anxiety rippled through him. “My thoughts are a lot to take in, I know. But after this orchard is healthy, you could do most of it by phone and only be here during canning season. We could return to Pennsylvania. You’d be closer
to your folks, and you could have an acre or more of the King farm to plant a fruit patch. A couple of seasons from now, you could run the summer kitchen for Eli. That orchard will be producing a pretty good supply of apples by then. Or you could do both. But let Eli hire farmhands if need be and get the weight of all the farming off your shoulders. I could do carpentry work for my uncle and build up a clientele until I could start my own business. We’ll travel here by train as needed. That way you could oversee the success of all the canning operations without the farm owning our lives.”
She stood and folded her arms, facing away from him, and a cold chill ran down his spine. “How long have you felt this way?”
“It started out as a few scattered seeds I barely realized were there.”
“When, Jacob?” She didn’t even glance at him, and her voice was void of surprise.
“Maybe from the time I first talked to a lawyer and he believed I could get immunity in exchange for my testimony.”
She turned, eyes wide. “That was months ago, and you haven’t mentioned a word until now.”
“It’s just an idea.”
“A pretty well-thought-out one.” She stretched out her arms toward the orchard. “I love it here.” Rows and rows of trees spread out before them. Everywhere they looked, they saw healthy green foliage and smelled the sweet scent of apple blossoms.
He stood and plucked a blossom from a tree. “It’s all pretty amazing, but that’s because of the amount of work everyone’s put into it. All you and I have had are a few hours of courtship here and there and a single trip to the beach. Don’t you want more? If we were able to employ the right people, you and I could move back to Pennsylvania, which could give both of us what we want—me working as a carpenter and you cultivating a fruit garden again.”
She stared at him, clearly bewildered and apparently speechless.
“Rhodes, say something.”
“You … you want to move back? I cared about that orchard, but it belongs to your family. The land and trees seem branded like cattle. At best, I was a guest there, but in the eyes of your Daed, I was an intruder. Here, this orchard has as much of me as it does any member of the King family.”
“It has you and Samuel in it.”
All traces of confusion melted from her face. “Is that what this is about?”
He was knee-deep now, and he couldn’t change the subject. He pointed up at a tree. “Soon we’ll see clusters of fruitlets on the trees. It’s like you and Samuel are apples on a tree, sharing the same cluster, but I fell to the ground months ago. I’m rotting while you and he grow stronger each day.”
There, he’d said the truth. He wanted to return to carpentry full-time, and he felt it was important for them that she not have so many work responsibilities on her shoulders. But his real issue with this farm was Samuel.
She looked out over the valley of the orchard. The sun had risen, and the light glimmered on the dew. She finally nodded.
That was it? Nothing more than a nod of her head? His heart pounded with anger. With hurt. With emotions he didn’t understand.
On the other hand, she wasn’t upset or walking away. She was listening and considering his viewpoint.
He dusted his palms together. It was rather depressing to discuss marriage in such businesslike terms.
He shielded his eyes from the sun, wishing he’d worn his hat. “I’ll make a good living doing what I love. We can raise a family and be happy.”
Her eyes reflected a disappointment he wasn’t prepared for. She sat and looked up at him. “You’ll go off to work before dawn each day and return after dark, six days a week in good weather. Farmers are at home, where their children are.”
He sat next to her. “But it’s a regular paycheck. No ruined crops after months of hard labor. And I’ll have extra days off here and there in the winter to make up for it.”
She picked up a blossom from the grass. “Is moving away from here the only way you can feel secure concerning Samuel and me?”
He shifted, putting his hand on the blanket behind her. “Listen.” He didn’t like what he was about to propose, but he couldn’t tolerate being the bad guy. She had to know in her heart that leaving here was the right thing to do. “I’ll continue going through instruction, and you think about what I’ve said. If you decide we should make our home and raise our children here in Orchard Bend, then that’s what we’ll do.”
“And carpentry?”
“I can probably find construction work here as well as anywhere.” He couldn’t imagine going off to work each day, leaving her around Samuel. Surely, after she’d thought about all he’d said, she’d see what they’d need to do to protect their relationship.
“You mean that, Jacob?”
“I trust your judgment.”
She leaned against his shoulder. “Denki.”
Jacob kissed her head. Had he just turned their future over to someone who cared for his brother more than she knew?
THIRTY-TWO
Samuel rocked back in a kitchen chair, staring at Landon’s laptop.
Iva and Phoebe were stirring around, starting dinner. Samuel and Landon couldn’t go to the barn office because Jacob was there with Steven, the door closed as Jacob continued going through instruction. Leah was upstairs reading to the little ones, and Samuel imagined Rhoda was in the orchard, tending her beloved trees.
It was the first of June, and they still had no canning kitchen or even plans for one.
He tried to concentrate on what was in front of him because Landon needed answers. But so much was going on inside him that he couldn’t focus.
“I’ve given the whole site an update.” With a slide of his finger on a metal pad, Landon moved the electronic arrow around the page, pointing out things. “I changed the location and product line. I’ve upgraded the ordering system and installed a new contact page.”
Samuel was okay with this Internet stuff as long as Landon ran it for them. If they barely looked at it throughout the year, it wouldn’t be considered a problem among most Amish. Advertising had been allowed for decades, but in the past the Amish paid for magazine or newspaper people to list their advertisements. Now ads were done on the Internet. Not a ton of difference in the Amish involvement—they still paid someone to put the information where Englisch people would see it. Some of the more conservative communities shunned this type of marketing, but Steven had a peace about it, so that settled it for Kings’ Orchard Maine.
“Follow the cursor.” Landon made the arrow jiggle. “When I click on this”—he pressed the metal pad—“a form pops up, and this is how people can place their orders. But if they click on Contact Us, they can e-mail us directly … or rather e-mail me directly. Several people and businesses have asked to be sent regular updates. Do you want to accommodate that?”
“Sounds time consuming.”
“Depends on how often we send out updates. We could do it four times a year, once for every seasonal change. Iva could take photos of the orchard, and we could use a few to show the beauty of the orchard in each season of the year. We could also share a day in the life of an Amish orchardist or tell what you are or will be doing for the orchard during a particular season.”
Samuel pondered the idea. “Sounds fine. Let’s begin with an update for each season. If anyone enjoys doing it, we can send more out each year.”
Life inside this tiny Amish settlement was buzzing—like the multitude of honeybee hives the beekeeper had set up throughout the orchard. But when it came to making a decision about the canning kitchen, Rhoda seemed as dormant as a tree in winter. Even so, Samuel trusted she would either make a decision or step aside and let him do it.
But time was drawing short, and Kings’ Orchard needed answers.
Jacob strode into the kitchen, the way only his younger brother could when he felt right with the world—with confidence and zest.
Steven entered and went straight to his wife, whispering. He then held up a letter. “Another Amish family
has contacted us. They’d like to visit and check us out and give us time to get to know them. It’s a man with nine children—ages eleven to twenty-three.” He grinned. “There must be at least one set of twins in that group.”
“The more the merrier.” Samuel chuckled.
Jacob moved to the end of the table near Landon, straddled a chair, and peered at the laptop for a moment before looking up. “What’s for dinner?”
Iva tapped the spatula on the side of a pan. “Amish six layer.”
Steven pulled up a stool at the corner of the table so he could see the screen too.
Jacob rubbed his stomach. “Just six layers? What if I want more?”
“Then I’ll heap two portions onto your plate.”
He frowned. “What if I don’t want twelve?”
Iva stirred the browning hamburger meat. “What if I want to swing this spatula at Samuel’s head?”
The room broke into laughter.
“Me?” Samuel feigned being shocked. “What’d I do?”
Iva shook the spatula at him, grinning, before returning her attention to the iron skillet.
“So what’s up?” Jacob turned the laptop so he could see it better.
Samuel gave Landon time to show Jacob around the site.
“Samuel, I’ve been wanting to show you this part.” Landon clicked on something, and a video began playing. “Iva took the pictures, and I turned them into a short video.”
Soft music played as Landon’s voice explained the history of Kings’ Orchard’s move to Maine and the type of work it took to care for the trees.
“This is really good.” Jacob turned to Iva. “Have you seen it?”
She shook her head, and Phoebe and she moved in closer. Landon restarted the video.
Iva rested her hands on the chair behind Samuel. “It makes working in the grove look much more charming than it actually is.”
Jacob scratched the back of his head. “That wouldn’t take a lot.”
This was the brother Samuel remembered from their teenage years—a guy who didn’t want to be tied down to an orchard.
When the video finished, Iva returned to the stove and Phoebe to the sink.
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