For Every Season

by Cindy Woodsmall

  Landon clicked on another link. “This is where a fair amount of the traffic has been coming from. It’s a series of articles written by Diana Fisher, the blogger Rhoda met at the mulching seminar last October. She writes for two different blogs: Maine Organic Apple Orchards and US Organic Apple Orchards. She linked each article to Rhoda’s website. When Rhoda was in the news, people ran Internet searches on her to see what they could find. What they found were pieces by Diana that led to Rhoda’s site.”

  Samuel picked up a pen and pointed at the screen. “So if our business is referred to in the articles by one name—Kings’ Orchard Maine—but the site goes by Rhoda’s former business of Rhode Side Stands, how are people finding Kings’ Orchard?”

  “Two ways. There are direct links to Rhoda’s website from Diana’s articles, and I bought other domain names—like Kings’ Orchard Maine, Amish Orchard, and Rhoda Byler—that people might use when searching online. I redirected those sites to this one.”

  Jacob clasped Landon’s shoulder. “You’re brilliant.”

  “I know, right?” Landon clicked on another tab. “But all this marketing about canned products is only going to do us some good if we actually have the goods to sell.”

  Samuel tapped his pen on the notepad. “We’ll have them. I know that for absolute certain. The only thing we don’t know is the when, where, and how of the canning kitchen.”

  Jacob folded his arms on the top rung of the ladder-back. “What happens if Rhoda is completely off-base about not accepting the Cranfords’ offer?”

  Iva set a tray with four glasses of lemonade on the table. “What offer?”

  While Jacob explained it and Rhoda’s reservations, Samuel outlined a to-do list for the month. By the first of July the fruitlets would be visible, and they’d need to spend every waking hour for weeks thinning them. They wouldn’t be able to get any other orchard work done during that time, so these few weeks leading up to that had to be spent wisely.

  But in truth this list was like everything else Samuel did—a stab at distracting his heart from any thoughts of Rhoda Byler.

  Phoebe passed out napkins with an unpeeled orange in each one.

  Iva wiped her hands on her apron. “I don’t get it. So Rhoda shared a hunch with Bob and Camilla. Now she feels obligated to turn down an offer they were going to make before she shared what she knew? Could Rhoda make this any more complicated?”

  “Probably.” Steven peeled the rind off an orange slice. “Don’t tempt her. But she comes by her feelings on the matter honestly. If you’d witnessed her gifting and everyone’s reaction to her while she was growing up, you’d understand why she struggles.”

  “And,” Phoebe added, “she has a really tender conscience—too tender for anybody’s good. So she’ll stick to what she thinks is right regardless of what it costs her.”

  Phoebe’s last sentence struck Samuel hard. Was there any chance that’s what kept Rhoda and him apart—her overzealous sense of loyalty toward Jacob, the business, and the King family? Samuel cared about all those things. Too much so, he imagined. But if Rhoda would go with him, he’d walk away from them, and although he’d be sorry for the pain it would cause everyone, he’d gratefully pay the price to be with her.

  Jacob’s eyes moved to Samuel’s and stayed there, and Samuel knew his brother was also bothered by what Phoebe had said.

  Steven looked to Iva. “Now?”

  Iva’s face reflected stress, but she nodded.

  Phoebe put her arm around Iva’s shoulders. “It’ll be okay. You’ll see.”

  “What’s going on?” Jacob asked.

  Iva reached into the hidden pocket of her apron and pulled out a small stack of letters. “These arrived today. I’m receiving several each week from my community. They want me to come back, because they think that I’m in sin and that I’ve abandoned my parents when they need me most.”

  Samuel couldn’t believe this. “But your Mamm sent you.”

  Iva nodded. “My Daed hasn’t let me talk to her lately, and I imagine he’s not telling anyone she had a hand in sending me here. I’m certainly not willing to spread that information to anyone writing to me. It could get her into a lot of trouble.”

  Steven tapped the table with the tips of his fingers. “I’ve spoken to her Daed several times. He’s got the backing of the church leaders, and the pressure from her district is building day by day. If need be, they’ll pull in other church leaders to stand against me.”

  “She’s twenty-one.” Landon closed his laptop. “Doesn’t she get a say?”

  “Her age actually works against her right now. Her Daed has voiced concerns that she’s in rebellion because she should have joined the faith by now and hasn’t. He also feels it’s wrong for her to live out from under his authority when she’s not married.”

  Landon looked from one person to another, disbelief evident on his face. “But, Steven, don’t you have any authority in this?”

  “No. I’m young, and I’ve not yet been properly chosen, according to Amish traditions. All I can do is try to persuade her Daed to view the situation differently. Even if she was ready to be baptized into the church, and by doing so she’d be under my authority, we can’t do that. She has to be in good standing with her former district, or those ministers won’t allow her to join elsewhere.”

  “That’s archaic and absolutist.” Landon slid his laptop into his backpack.

  “It’s what?” Phoebe asked.

  “Sorry.” Landon offered a humble-looking smile. “Leah hates when I do that. Archaic means ‘old-fashioned,’ and absolutist means ‘having absolute authority.’ ”

  Phoebe made a face. “Then why didn’t you say so?”

  “I blame my mother. She had a thing for vocabulary, and my earliest memories of her are the games we’d play as she taught me what she called ‘big words for a big boy.’ ” He laughed. “So here I am a ‘big boy,’ and sometimes I forget and use words without thinking.”

  “Ah.” Phoebe wrinkled her nose. “Next time I need a ten-dollar word, I’ll know where to go—your mother.”

  The light chuckle eased some of the tension in the room from Steven’s news, but it lifted none of the weight from them.

  “Here’s the thing, Landon.” Steven interlaced his fingers. “You may not see it as it should be in this house, but we, as Amish, believe the head of a home is meant to love as Christ loved the church but also to have the authority to lead everyone in it. The same is true of church leaders over their flock. I agree with those things, but Iva isn’t in sin.”

  Landon brushed his fingers across the smooth surface of his laptop. “Since she’s not a minor, they can’t make her go back. She has rights.”

  “That stance only has merit if she’s willing to rebel against her family and the church by using the US laws to her benefit. Amish don’t believe in using government laws to gain freedom from church authority. If she returns home, they can’t make her marry, so that’s good, although they will pressure her. But if I can’t change her Daed’s mind and we try to keep her here anyway, we’ll come across as rebellious too. Handled wrong, this will cause a scandal among the Amish that could undermine this settlement and pit one state of Amish against another, and anyone considering moving here will back out.”

  Samuel had been clueless that all this was going on. “What’s at the heart of the problem, Iva? Do they miss you that much? Or do they fear you’re up here living a life of sin? Or what?”

  “Money.” She whispered the word, embarrassment etched on her face. “They’re struggling to hold on to their house, and the man they want me to marry is wealthy.”

  Landon looked disgusted. “It’s disconcerting, uh, upsetting that selfish men can be found in every walk of life, including the Amish.”

  Samuel clenched his jaw. “Then let’s begin by sending as much of her back pay as we can scrape together. Then we need to find her a position and title that will make it very clear to her district that she’s an important pa
rt of this district.”

  “Which she is, Samuel.” Jacob’s defensive tone made Samuel bristle.

  “Of course.” Samuel nodded. “I wasn’t saying otherwise. I simply meant we need to make that clear to the people who don’t live here. Saying she helps with meals and mail isn’t going to cut it. One would have to be here to see how much that and everything else she does means to us as a new settlement, a new business, and a new church.”

  “And as part of the family,” Jacob snapped.

  If Jacob wanted to keep challenging Samuel at every turn, Samuel was up for the fight. “Her Daed does not care that we feel she’s part of this family. Actually, his knowing that would only make the situation worse since she already has a family who wants her to come home.”

  Phoebe patted Iva’s back. “We’ll find a solution. I’m sure of it.”

  Steven ate the last bite of his orange. “Would it help clear Rhoda’s head about the kitchen if I went to the orchard now to shake her up a bit? We could all three go—Jacob, Samuel, and me. She has to snap out of holding us up on the canning kitchen.”

  Jacob shook his head. “I don’t think the three of us confronting her will work. She knows how Samuel and I feel. But she’s your sister. So you go ahead.”

  “Afraid of a girl, are you?” Iva teased.

  Uncertainty marked Jacob’s face. “I like to keep my girlfriend happy and calm and peaceful, in life as a whole and with me in particular. I’ve given her more than enough grief in our time together, and I won’t add to it because her brother wants to rattle her into a decision.”

  Samuel was glad to hear Jacob be so honest with himself and others. More than anything else, Samuel wanted Rhoda to be happy. Since the power of her contentment was in Jacob’s hands, all Samuel could do was pray and hope his brother cared enough to put her ahead of himself.

  “But”—Jacob focused on Iva—“I agree with Phoebe that we’ll find ways to satisfy your Daed. You can trust that. Okay?”

  Iva smiled, taking in each of them individually. “Denki.”

  After nods from those in the room, they each seemed to return to their thoughts. Samuel’s musings landed directly on Rhoda. Again. Was she in love with Jacob? He couldn’t say she looked overly happy or peaceful of late. But that could be due to the damage Samuel had caused between them, or maybe it was from some damage Jacob had caused on his own.

  “Samuel,”—Steven pushed back from the table—“will you go with me to push Rhoda on this kitchen matter?”

  Samuel jolted from his thoughts. “If I thought that was the right thing to do, I’d be fine with confronting her with you. She wouldn’t hesitate to do the same to me if she believed it would help the business. But this situation is different, and all of us are going to leave her alone about it.”

  “But she’s holding the business hostage, and I need to do something about it.” Steven stood.

  Samuel eyed him, wondering if they were about to have their first argument. “No, you don’t. This isn’t a matter between siblings or between a church leader and a member of his flock. And even though she’s both of those to you, I want her to be left alone with regard to the Cranfords’ loaning us any money.” He eased a chair out with his foot. “Take a seat and then take a deep breath.”

  Steven just stood there and glared at him.

  Samuel tapped the notepad. “Let’s talk about what we can do.”

  “Hey.” Landon reached across the table and tapped on Samuel’s notepad. “I’ve just had a wild notion about the canning kitchen, and if it worked, Iva could be given a specific title in the business and wages for her work.”

  Samuel was glad for the change of topic, and he hoped Landon’s plan was a good one. “By all means share it.”

  “Actually, I need to call Granny first. Just give me a minute.” Landon walked out of the room.

  Samuel went back to his list, talking to the others about what they needed to accomplish between now and July, when the fruitlets would be thinned. As the meeting continued, he made out a tentative schedule.

  Landon returned to the kitchen, grinning. “Granny’s excited about the idea.”

  Samuel looked at him. “What is it?”

  “Granny is going to Florida in August for an extended stay because her sister is having knee surgery. So what if we renovate her kitchen and use that? She’d need to vacate the house sooner than she’d planned, but she said she doesn’t mind. Her kitchen has great bones for what Rhoda needs, so it shouldn’t take a lot of money and probably not more than a week or so to get it ready. I know her place is much farther away than you wanted, especially for a permanent kitchen, but it could work for the first harvest. We’ll need to build a huge trailer that we can hitch to my truck, and I’ll drive the apples there as needed.”

  Samuel’s heart turned a flip. “Erlene likes this idea?”

  “She said she did. She was going to Florida anyway. This just moves up her departure. We’ll have time to renovate the kitchen and get a license.”

  Steven threw his napkin and rinds into the trash. “I don’t understand. I thought we couldn’t get a license if the canning kitchen is in someone’s house.”

  Samuel tossed the pen onto the pad of paper. “The issue is the kitchen can’t be used to feed a family throughout the day while being used to can goods. It’s probably the safety codes as well as health codes.”

  Steven nodded. “Then Landon’s idea is the best we’ve come up with yet. Surely Rhoda will agree to it.”

  “Possibly.” Samuel pushed the talk button. “Rhoda …”

  After several seconds she answered, “Not now, please.”

  He stared at the two-way. She didn’t sound like herself. But to his ear she hadn’t sounded like herself for the last few days. He pushed the talk button again. “We have an idea about the kitchen. Can we talk to you about it? Where are you?”

  “Changing codling moth traps. Whatever you need to say, it’ll keep.” She was probably covered with molasses and didn’t appreciate having to handle the two-way at that moment.

  “Where are you?”

  “Bye.” A definite click came through, and he knew she’d turned off her walkie-talkie.

  Samuel looked at Jacob. “I think I should’ve let you contact her.”

  Jacob closed his eyes and raised his brows for a moment before shrugging. “Probably. But I didn’t think about that. It’s too late now.”

  Phoebe set a mixing bowl on the table. “Now there’s a woman who wants some time alone.”

  A sheepish look crossed Jacob’s face. “We can find her easily enough, but should we?”

  Samuel knew that living and working as they did on this farm was very different from what drew Rhoda as a young girl to spend hours alone inside her one-acre fruit garden. For all her passion and determination, Rhoda longed for the peaceful, quieter side of cultivating fruits. The solitude and serenity were a gift to her, one that seemed to be a balm to her soul long before she retreated to the garden after her sister was murdered.

  Samuel trusted that with a little more time, another year at most, he—they—could give her the periods of solitude she longed for. But now was not that time. After months of uncertainty, Landon had put a solid option on the table.

  Samuel got up. “I want to talk to her about this idea. Now. Steven’s going too. Jacob, are you coming?”

  Jacob tilted his head for a moment, apparently deciding how this possible invasion of Rhoda’s space might go.

  “It might help her.” Samuel pushed his chair in. “At the least she’ll appreciate having you and your more gentle approach on her side.”

  Jacob nodded. “You’re probably right.”

  Landon closed his laptop. “Does anyone mind if I step upstairs to see Leah?”

  “Take these”—Phoebe passed him a little basket with oranges and napkins—“and tell her dinner’s running a little late but should be ready within the hour. Will you stay?”

  “Maybe.” Landon rubbed his stomach.
“I’d like to,”—he held up his cell phone—“but I may need to go. Would it be okay if I let you know in a bit?”

  “Sure.” Phoebe turned to Jacob and passed him an orange. “As far as I know, Rhoda hasn’t had a bite since breakfast.”

  Samuel clipped the two-way on his suspenders. “Let’s bridle some horses.”

  THIRTY-THREE

  Rhoda pushed the four-wheel wooden handcart toward the next tree. She couldn’t take a full breath. The feeling of suffocation had barely eased in four days, ever since Jacob had made his hopes—his requirements for marital happiness—known to her.

  When Samuel demanded something despite her wishes, at least he was up-front about it from the start, and he didn’t mind if she argued back. But Jacob didn’t believe in raising his voice or arguing. His way was to slowly reveal what he wanted and then gently apply pressure until she gave in. That gentle pressure currently felt like a bushel of apples on her chest, all forty-two-plus pounds of it.

  But she loved him.

  So what was the problem? She unhooked a codling moth trap from its branch and returned to the handcart. The plastic container once held a large amount of vinegar for pickling vegetables from the garden, but a wide mouth had been cut in it so that it was now a homemade codling moth trap.

  Maybe Jacob was right. If their relationship was to become as strong and healthy as they wanted it to be, as it had been before he was gone and out of touch with her for months at a time, they needed to move away.

  Tears threatened, and the weight on her chest made breathing difficult, but she doubted that she needed to see a doctor. She poured the gooey mixture that was filled with moths into the trash can strapped to the cart.

  If she lived elsewhere, married to Jacob and having his children, she wouldn’t need to do as Landon said and understand what was between Samuel and her. It would eventually evaporate. It’d be replaced, just as this orchard had replaced the one in Pennsylvania. She rarely even thought of the original Kings’ Orchard or her fruit garden she’d grown up tending. People moved on and started anew.