For Every Season

by Cindy Woodsmall

She kept scrolling through her images. Some were really good. “So why is this tiny bit of work all you’ve gotten done?”

  Gravel thudded near her, some of it hitting her shoes.

  She jumped up. “What’d you do that for?”

  “That was a politely worded question?” He chuckled.

  “Compared to ‘What in the world have you been doing all these days while I’ve been taking over your jobs on the farm?’ Ya, it was.”

  “I see your point. But you don’t understand construction. We had to decide on plans and have them approved by the county before we could get the permits to build. Then the ground had to be leveled.” He moved around, pointing as he spoke. “I set the pipe, dug the footers by hand, and installed the form boards and steel. Mixed and poured the concrete. And while that cures, I’ve set the ground covering, and now I’m adding a layer of gravel.”

  As he talked and showed her around, she was surprised he’d gotten as far as he had. “That’s it?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Listen, Iva Lambright, I know your Achilles heel. It’s wrapped around your little neck, and if you want to keep it safe, I’d apologize if I were you.”

  “This is what a man looks like right before he smashes the prized possession of a homeless waif.” She took a picture of him. “Come any closer, and I’ll say it’s one of you as you reached to smash my camera.”

  He shook his head and began shoveling again. “You should go home and have those cuts tended to.”

  “And if I wasn’t injured, would you say what you really mean? You should go home.”

  He didn’t glance her way, but his smile was undeniable. “Something like that. As far as progress on this job goes, you’ll see a lot once the families get here. It won’t take us more than a few days to dry the place in. For you learners that means framing the exterior and interior walls, decking the roof, adding the subflooring and windows, and hanging the exterior doors. Then comes the finishing work, but the families won’t stay for that.”

  “How long will that take?”

  “By myself, it would be six months, maybe eight. But my uncle owns a construction company, and in exchange for me coming to work for him after the harvest, he’s going to send some crews in shifts, as needed, until it’s complete. Hopefully, before the harvest begins.”

  “Crews?”

  “Most carpenters have particular skills, so they move faster and do a better job in those areas. One crew will put up the Sheetrock, and another will finish it. Another does siding, cabinets, flooring, trim work—”

  “Got it. So what’s your best area?”

  “Lead carpenter. That’s quality control. Squaring buildings. Laying out walls. If in the end something is wrong with any part of the job, it’s my fault. I’m supposed to make sure the job is done right. But in this case, to ensure that we’re building according to code and the law, I’ll work under a licensed contractor, who’ll show up every day to inspect and instruct.”

  Even though he’d seemed content enough to farm this land, it was unusual to see this side of Jacob, with a gleam in his eye as he talked. “You love this type of work.”

  “I used to. The joy has been pouring back in of late. The mess with Sandra’s husband and the construction company I worked for caused me to hate it. I couldn’t pick up a hammer for years. The thought of it made me sick.”

  “Sandra told me about a deck collapsing and two women dying. It broke my heart for those women’s families.”

  “Sandra told you?” He seemed taken aback.

  “While I was helping her move, ya. I’m sorry. I wasn’t supposed to know?”

  After a moment of silence, he finally sighed. “For a while I thought it was my fault. I’d designed the deck and even helped build it. But then I was called off that site and onto another one a day before we were done.”

  “Jacob.” Her hoarse whisper caught his attention, and he quit working. “How awful for you.”

  “Not like it was for the families of those women.”

  “But for someone as sincere as you, it must have half killed you on the inside.”

  His eyes met hers, a rarity for him—although it was typical when he was looking at Rhoda. “It was a nightmare.” He took off his hat. “Without even knowing about my past, Rhoda helped me move beyond it.”

  “How?”

  He wiped his brow with his shirt sleeve. “I don’t know. There’s a powerful presence about her that I need, just as there is humor in me that she needs.”

  “Interesting.” Focusing the lens toward the wooded area, she zoomed in on one spot. “I’d sharpen that wit if I were you.”

  “Why’s that?”

  Iva spotted what looked to be a belted kingfisher. Was that possible? She eased in that direction, but it flew off before she could get a decent shot.

  “Iva?”

  “Ya.”

  When it landed a few feet farther out, she zoomed in on it.

  “Why do you say I need to sharpen my wit?”

  “Because, from what I can piece together, Rhoda is leaving everything she loves for you.” She snapped a dozen images, still not sure if it was a belted kingfisher. It flew away, and she lowered her camera and scrolled through the images. “Isn’t she?”

  When he said nothing, she looked at him. His hat lay at his feet, and his stricken face stunned her.

  She turned off her camera and went to him. “Did I say something wrong?” Her Daed was forever telling her that she didn’t think before she spoke. But what had she said wrong? Surely he knew how Rhoda felt. Or was love that blind?

  “No. You’re fine.” He grabbed his hat and put it on before he scooped up another shovelful of gravel.

  But if it was fine, why did she feel as if she’d just ripped tape from his eyes?

  THIRTY-SIX

  Rhoda put fresh sheets on Jacob’s bed while Phoebe dusted his furniture. July’s warmth and mild humidity floated through the open window, as did the sound of black flies and the chirps of a nearby family of cardinals. A scent of honeysuckle clung to the air.

  She tucked the edges of the sheet under the mattress. This would become her parents’ bedroom when they arrived. Landon had gone to the train station to get them, her brother John and sister-in-law, and their five children. Even though Landon had borrowed a van that seated ten people, he said that between people and luggage, he didn’t have room for anyone else to go with him to the station.

  Jacob’s family would arrive tomorrow.

  Two emotions warred within her—joy that her family would arrive soon and grief that in the blink of an eye it would be time for Jacob and her to pack their bags and leave this farm, to return for only a week or so each harvest.

  She moved to his window and looked out. She could see the barn, the driveway, and some of the front yard from here. The view from her bedroom window—or rather what was now Iva’s room—was much nicer. But once Samuel and Jacob’s family arrived, Iva and Leah would bunk with Rhoda at the Cranfords’ house.

  Phoebe shook a pillow, beating it strongly before plunking it on the bed. “I don’t know how we’re going to feed and house this many people for a week.”

  Samuel rounded the back of the barn and went inside the closest door. A dozen emotions, from longing to grief, ripped at Rhoda.

  She grabbed the bedspread and moved away from the window. No sense in dwelling on Samuel.

  “Steven said the last supply truck arrived at the building site early today. That should be all the supplies the men will need to construct the harvest kitchen.”

  Rhoda couldn’t swallow. She could hardly breathe. “That’s gut.” She tossed the cover onto the bed.

  Phoebe tugged on the bedspread and slid her hand across it, straightening the last wrinkles. “Ya. With plenty of supplies and food, those men will fly through getting the place dried in.”

  Rhoda’s head pounded. “Ya.”

  “Before we have communion this Sunday and Steven becomes an official preacher for the Orchard Bend Amis
h, we’ll see that harvest kitchen dried in and ready for the finishers to begin.” Studying Rhoda, Phoebe worked the kinks out of her back. “Do you need me to keep making silly chitchat, or are you going to do us both a favor and really talk?”

  Rhoda took the dust mop by the handle and ran it over the floor again. “Chitchat, please.”

  “Could you answer one question?”

  “Nee, but denki for asking.” Rhoda picked up pieces of dirt from the rug. “Do we need to drag this out to the line and beat it again?”

  Phoebe took hold of the mop handle. “Rhoda, please.”

  Rhoda relinquished the dust mop and moved to the edge of the bed. “What do you want me to say?”

  Phoebe closed the door before sitting next to her. “How about the truth concerning what’s going on?”

  Rhoda couldn’t explain, not even to Phoebe or Camilla.

  Phoebe put her hand over Rhoda’s. “If you were feeling apprehensive or disappointed about needing to move again, I could find encouragement to share. A man who holds your heart and you want a family with is worth any move. But I think whatever is going on is much, much deeper than packing your bags again.”

  Rhoda willed herself to keep her mouth shut. “I love Jacob. I do. But …”

  “Ah, so your brother is right.” Phoebe chuckled and put her arm around Rhoda’s shoulders. “He’ll never let me live this down.”

  Rhoda fidgeted with the strings to her prayer Kapp. “I don’t understand. Jacob and I began our courtship just head over heels for each other. He’s so good at saying the right things, and he used to make me laugh so easily. Phoebe, he’s so in love. And … I love him too, but … what’s wrong with me?”

  “Maybe it’s not you or him.” Phoebe leaned her head against Rhoda’s. “It was unbelievably hard when I lost the baby. We were so excited to be expecting again. The little one was conceived in love, and I take good care of myself. Steven is a really good husband and Daed. None of that was enough. The doctor believes the baby wasn’t healthy enough to cling to life.” Phoebe paused, clearly aiming to get control of her emotions. “Not every relationship, even when started in true love, is strong and healthy enough to last as we believe it should. As we long for it to.”

  Phoebe’s comparison was beautiful, and it pierced Rhoda’s heart to see the truth of it.

  Someone tapped at the door.

  “Kumm.” Phoebe stood.

  Iva stepped in, holding out a handful of wildflowers from Phoebe’s garden—purple asters, orange lilies, and white daisies. “I was wondering if you’d like these put in a vase for this room.” The girl’s feet were bare, and she had on a white cotton scarf in place of her prayer Kapp, not uncommon when cleaning house. Her tan skin had a healthy glow. She was thriving inside this home. Rhoda felt like a vine withering in a sunbaked drought.

  Sweet, sweet Iva. Rhoda’s first concerns about her had been wrong. She was a treasure, not a troublemaker.

  Rhoda stood and straightened the bed. “My folks will love them, Iva. Denki.”

  “Gut. I thought so.” Iva closed the door, and Rhoda heard her scamper away.

  “Rhoda.” Phoebe picked up the dusting rag and swiped it across the top of the window. “We can heal from our losses, but if you marry Jacob for the wrong reasons, you’ll damage both of your lives.”

  She was sorry for Phoebe and Steven’s loss, and she didn’t mean to think light of it, but the fact was they would have more children. If Rhoda let Jacob go, it’d rip his heart out, and she’d end up without anyone. Samuel should know he could never build a lasting relationship with someone who’d once planned to marry his brother. Every time Samuel would try to hold her hand or spread a blanket on a hillside for a picnic or take her for a buggy ride, he’d remember that she did those same things with his brother. And each time it’d put more distance between them until he stopped trying.

  She knew that. Maybe Samuel did too. But she and Jacob could build a strong family, filled with faith and happiness. She knew they could.

  “It’s ridiculous to care for anyone besides Jacob,” Rhoda whispered. “And I’m not giving in to any temptation that tries to lure me from him.”

  Phoebe dusted the tops of the doorframes. “An engagement or even talking of marriage is a commitment, but it’s not a vow made before God. It’s a hope of making that vow, but if it’s no longer a hope, if it’s only uncomfortable determination, is God or man asking you to follow through and take the vow?”

  “You’re not hearing me.” Rhoda wiped grime out of the windowsill. “I choose Jacob. What’s more, I love him, and you need to back me up, not fling the barn doors open, encouraging all heathen animals and foolish women to escape.”

  “That’s a strange thing to say.” Phoebe tucked the rag and cleaners into a bucket. “I’m not so sure a woman should be kept in a barn with the animals. And a woman would be even more foolish if she didn’t escape when clearly she should. My concern is one day you’ll look back at this time and think, why didn’t I listen to my heart?”

  Rhoda tossed her stuff into the bucket. “I am listening to my heart.”

  “Maybe. Your heart aches for Jacob, and you’re clearly hearing that, but maybe what you’re listening to most of all is your sense of duty.”

  Rhoda heard the words and guilt as clearly as if Phoebe had said them. But it wasn’t guilt. Well, it wasn’t only duty and guilt. She loved Jacob.

  It was a different kind of love than she had for Samuel. Jacob enjoyed her company and loved to make her laugh. But Samuel understood more of her—from her passion for nurturing to her stubbornness that couldn’t let go when facing defeat to the bleakest, loneliest parts of who she was. Rhoda gave a throw pillow one last fluffing. “Jacob feels as if I’m the support under his feet.”

  “What about you, Rhoda?” Phoebe opened the door. “Can you imagine if the bottom dropped out from under you?”

  Once Rhoda was on the landing, Iva seemed to come out of nowhere.

  She held the vase of flowers. “That was so horrific, and I feel so awful for Jacob.”

  “For Jacob?” Rhoda glanced at Phoebe. Just how much had Iva overheard?

  “Of course. I mean, what happened to those women and their families was awful, but Jacob’s guilt was just as bad.” Iva took the cleaning items from Phoebe and passed Rhoda the vase. “Is cleaning my room next?”

  “Iva,”—Rhoda rubbed a soft petal of a daisy between her fingers—“what do you mean?”

  “Ach, did I misunderstand what you were saying? I thought you were talking about Jacob designing and working on that deck that fell, the one where those two women died.”

  Died? As if someone were holding her under water, Rhoda couldn’t catch her breath.

  Why didn’t she know anything about this part of Jacob’s troubles? No wonder he’d hated carpentry with a passion when she’d first met him. He’d told her about the deck collapsing and many, many other things that she still didn’t have straight inside her head, but he’d never mentioned anyone dying.

  Finally she could draw air into her lungs. “He felt responsible.” She was fishing for answers, but it seemed Iva had learned a good bit more than Rhoda had, maybe from her time with Jacob after moving Sandra.

  Was Jacob ever going to tell Rhoda everything?

  Iva flopped a dust cloth over her shoulder. “Of course he felt responsible. How could he not? The poor man. And when I think of all the time he spent feeling guilty before he learned that it wasn’t his fault, it hurts even me. Sandra said he left town immediately afterward, but if you ask me, he’s just now leaving the grief of it behind him.”

  Phoebe passed Iva the dust mop. “Why don’t you start cleaning in your room?”

  Rhoda took the vase to the nightstand in Jacob’s room.

  Phoebe closed the door. “I’m sure it’s not as bad as it—”

  Rhoda’s hands shook. “He just left?” That’s what someone did to Camilla. Maybe running her off the road had been an accident. Maybe the
deck falling hadn’t been Jacob’s fault. But to just leave?

  Whether he was there or not, shouldn’t he have gone to the hospital when he learned of the incident and given answers for why a newly built deck fell? To express sorrow to the families for their loss as a man who’d worked for the construction company that built the deck?

  That kind of heartfelt response brought healing to those involved in an accident.

  She felt sick, not just for herself, but for Jacob. A familiar question circled inside her brain: Did she know him at all? “I’m going to find him. We have to talk before our families—”

  A horn blew, and even though the dogs were bedded in the barn office to keep them away from the visitors, she heard them howling. She went to the window. Landon pulled into the driveway with a carload of her loved ones. She closed her eyes, searching for strength.

  Phoebe put her hand on her shoulder. “It’ll have to wait. Kumm.” They left the room again.

  Leah came out of Phoebe and Steven’s suite with Arie on her hip. “Did I hear a horn?”

  “Ya.” Phoebe took Arie.

  Isaac stomped down the stairs, yelling for his grandparents the whole way.

  Rhoda took a deep breath, steadying her pulse as she followed Phoebe down the stairs. After putting off her parents’ visit until Jacob’s secrets were no longer lurking in corners, she would still have to face her family while trying to cover her thoughts and feelings about him. Could she hide her disappointment and hurt from her family … and from Jacob until a more appropriate time?

  Her Daed spotted her the moment she stepped onto the porch. He grinned. “Rhoda!” He opened his arms wide, and she flew into them.

  Her tears dampened his neck as she clung to him. Then she hugged her Mamm, their tears mingling when their cheeks touched. At least for now she could cry with her parents believing they were tears of joy.

  Her brother John had a baby carrier in each hand, and his wife, Lydia, had a little one on her hip and two by her skirts. She glanced to Phoebe who was hugging Rhoda’s Mamm. Would it sting even more to see John and Lydia with so many children? Would John and Lydia think having only two children would be a nice break at times?