A Season for Tending (18 page)

Samuel was upset about what the damage on the back tierce would do to his and Catherine’s plans, and rightly so, but the income from this year’s crop supported far more than one man’s dreams.

“It was an accident!” Betsy’s scream caught his attention, and the next thing he heard was a door slamming.

He closed the chest at the foot of his bed and locked it. No doubt the youngest child in the family was in a heated argument with one of her sisters. Even though the younger girls didn’t know the issues with the finances and the back tierce, it was possible they were reacting to the unspoken stress in the men.

“You were careless!” Katie screamed.

He shoved the money into an envelope and left his room. Katie sat on the top step of the stairway, holding a doll with a torn dress.

Jacob sat beside her. “Having trouble?”

“Look what she did.” Katie showed him the rip, and then she leaned her head against him. “What’s wrong with me? I feel like playing with dolls one minute, and the next I wish I had a beau coming to court me.”

He put his arm around her. “You’re growing up, and that’s a lot like a spring day with showers. It’s bright and clear one minute and cloudy with rain the next. But it’s all necessary for the crops”—he squeezed her shoulders—“and little girls to mature.”

“I’ll grow out of this then?”

“The worst of it.” He remembered being her age and finding the idea of growing up exciting and scary. He suspected she was feeling some of that too. But with a little searching, she’d find her own way to cope … or escape. But for the most part, he’d found that escaping fell short of its promises.

After seeing that newspaper last Sunday, he’d gone to the library on Monday and had found the same paper. The construction fiasco in the headlines had nothing to do with Jones’ Construction—not this time.

Thoughts of Sandra’s heartache pounded him like a rough surf during a
storm, and he knew he had to mail the letter and find a distraction before the memories stole what little peace he’d found in returning home. “How about you and Betsy ride to town with me? After I mail a letter and pick up a few newspapers, we could go by the creamery.”

“Jacob, why’d you leave us when you did?”

“Sometimes a person needs a change of scenery.” That sounded reasonable enough, and he hoped it satisfied her. That made getting away seem simple, and life was many things, but rarely was it simple. “And right now I think a trip into town would be a perfect change of scenery.” He nudged her shoulder. “Now go make up with Betsy while I hitch a horse to a rig.”

She straightened the doll’s dress, pulling the torn pieces together and probably thinking of ways to repair it. “I’m glad you came home. You won’t leave us again, will you?”

The question gnawed at him. He stood. “Not today. Now go.”

FIFTEEN

Rhoda ran her fingers through the soaking raspberries, torn between frustration and curiosity. She’d declined Samuel’s work offer, so he should be leaving, not staying for dinner. “Why’d you accept the invite?”

Samuel shoved his hands into his pockets. “I’m not ready to leave.”

She lifted two handfuls of dripping raspberries, shook off a little bit of water, and dumped them into a plastic container. “Why?”

He didn’t answer, and she waited. He shifted from one foot to the other, seeming uncomfortable. She much preferred his blunt candor to his stoicism, but maybe his interest wasn’t purely business. Although she didn’t believe a working relationship with Samuel would land either of them in the right place, what about a personal one? Didn’t seem likely—despite how hard her heart thumped at the very idea. And although she felt an undeniable tug of attraction, he also grated on her nerves.

“Kumm.” She took the container of raspberries and went up the stairs. The house was buzzing with activity when they entered: women setting the table, men getting little ones settled and trying to distract them until time to eat. She introduced Samuel to everyone and then showed him to a half bath to wash up.

Before long they were all seated at the table with their heads bowed. When she opened her eyes, she saw Samuel staring at her from across the table.

“Samuel,” Daed said.

Samuel faced her father and tugged the cloth napkin into his lap.

Daed lifted the platter of roasted chicken and passed it to him. “What brings you to Morgansville?”

Samuel forked a piece of meat and put it on his plate. “I came with a business proposition to discuss with your daughter.”

Pleasure radiated from her father’s face. “My Rhodes working with Kings’ Orchard?”

Samuel passed the platter back to Daed. “It’s preliminary talk at this point, just trying to see if we could work something out that might be equitable for everyone.”

After putting chicken on his plate, Daed passed the platter to her mother. “That sounds interesting, doesn’t it, Rhodes?”

Her brothers and sisters-in-law watched with anticipation while filling their plates and passing bowls of food.

Rhoda scooped out some peas. “It’s very good of Samuel to think of me, but I’m not considering it. I have more than I can keep up with for Rhode Side Stands.”

A mixture of disappointment and frustration appeared on Samuel’s face. “I know you’re used to running a small business, so maybe you don’t understand the benefit in seriously considering opportunities that are presented to you. Perhaps it sounds intimidating, but if you’d come look at the orchard, we can talk about it. At least then you’d be handling this offer with the kind of business savvy it deserves.”

Rhoda’s blood ran hot. “Are you good at math, Samuel?”

“Am I what?” He seemed confused for a moment and took a sip of his water. “Ya, reasonably so. Why?”

“Can you give me a rough estimate of how many insulting, condescending things you just said in your account of this small business owner?”

He stared at her, not looking angry or even dismayed but curious.

“Rhoda, sweetheart,” her Daed said quietly. “He’s our guest.”

She wanted to say that he should behave like one, but she wouldn’t be disrespectful to her Daed.

“I didn’t mean it that way.” Samuel wiped his mouth with the napkin. “I was making observations. Nothing more.”

“Oh, I see.” She bit her tongue to keep from challenging his
observations
.

Steven shook a little salt onto his potatoes and passed the shaker to his wife. “What did you have in mind for Rhoda to do?”

“Every year we sell our cider apples for mere pennies. But if those same apples were canned and sold using a label people already trusted, like Rhode Side Stands, we could make a better profit. We wouldn’t be able to pay her much up-front, but we’d cover her costs and then give her twenty-five percent of what we made from each jar sold. Because all her time could be spent canning instead of tending crops and because of the amount of fruit we harvest compared to her garden, we believe she’d earn a much healthier profit than she gets from a summer of harvesting berries.”

More profit from a fall of canning apples than a summer of harvesting berries? The idea suddenly held some strong appeal, not that she’d share that with him. But if he was right, she might be able to put away some serious money toward building a kitchen where the shed now stood. Still, none of that changed her impression of how a business deal with Samuel would end.

“Have you done this with other people?” John asked.

“No. We’ve considered a lot of ideas over the years, but this particular one came up after I saw Rhoda’s setup and after I realized that we have a particularly large crop of cider apples this year. Eventually we hope to have more eating apples, as the profit is much better.”

If Rhoda wasn’t certain how poorly this business deal would end, she might consider it or at least enjoy a Saturday afternoon visiting an apple orchard. But she didn’t appreciate Samuel’s backhanded compliments or how he had a big role, with a lot of labor, envisioned for her without her input.

She cut up a piece of chicken. “After a summer of harvesting and canning, I’m more than ready by fall for life to slow down and to take a break. That’s the beginning of your busy season.”

“True. But think of how you could expand your fruit garden if you made extra money by working through the fall. You might earn enough to hire more
help next year.” He tore a roll in half. “We’re honest in our dealings, and we’d do our best to make sure your efforts were worth it.”

Did this man hear himself? “I believe you’re honest. I can see that about you. But the problem I’m having right now is that you seem to think your ideas of what I should do outweigh mine.”

“Rhodes,”—Daed tapped her leg with his foot under the table—“I think you should at least go to the orchard, look it over, and think about it.”

So this was why Samuel had accepted the invitation to dinner—to run around her decision and convince her Daed. If Samuel wanted to dash any interest in his orchard by making himself an enemy, he was doing a fine job.

“Denki, Karl.” Samuel forked a piece of chicken.

“Daed, I like the work schedule I have. Besides, I couldn’t keep up with that much produce without hiring someone new, and Landon is the only person I want to work with under that kind of pressure.”

“Landon?” Samuel paused, holding the fork of meat in midair. “You have an Englisch man working for you?”

A name like Landon was a complete giveaway that he wasn’t Amish. Samuel’s judgmental tone indicated far more than he realized.

“You’re kidding me.” Rhoda glanced at her Daed. “You also have an opinion about who works for me?”

Samuel studied her as if he was trying to understand her and to figure out what to say or do next.

Daed set his fork on his plate. “Rhodes, it was a simple question.”

“He’s never met Landon, and he already doesn’t like him. That’s prejudice talking.” She pointed her butter knife at him. “I’ll go one step further, Mr. King. Landon is my friend, and no one—not you or a dozen of the best Amish people—could ever replace who he is to me. If he’s not welcome, I’m not the least bit interested in anything else you have to say.”

Her family fidgeted, each one clearly uncomfortable with the exchange taking place.

Daed looked from her to Samuel with empathy reflected on his face. “Landon’s a good man, and he helped Rhoda through the loss of her younger sister. I’m indebted to him.”

Samuel nodded. “I shouldn’t have expressed my opinion so quickly.”

“You shouldn’t have had one. Period.”

A faint smile crossed Samuel’s lips. “Now, Miss Byler, you’d find it easier to grow apples on your raspberry bushes than for me to be without an opinion. It’s how my mind works, and it does so without my permission. Surely you have some area where you’re not in control of how you think or feel.”

Of all the people he could have said that to, no one would understand it better than she did. “Of course I have those areas. But to evaluate situations and people with rash judgments or prejudice is simply wrong.”

“Yet in less than a minute, you judged my work proposition to be of no value to you.”

“That’s true,” John said. “He’s got you on that one.”

Rhoda put her hands in her lap and wrung her napkin, quietly tearing some of the threads. “It’s not a hasty judgment of others to know what I do and don’t want concerning
my
business. And getting back to the point of your insulting view of Landon, it seems to me you tend to sum up people too quickly, including your sister.”

Samuel sighed. “Okay, I’ll admit my attitude was wrong where Landon was concerned, but Leah is an entirely different situation. She’s earned the heat of my frustrations the old-fashioned way.”

“Which came first, Samuel—her disappointing ways or your lack of valuing her?”

“Whoa.” Samuel put his napkin on the table and scooted his chair back. “I’d like us to seriously consider a working venture. I think you and Kings’ Orchard could profit from it, but there are areas where I will not be open to your opinion, and my sister is one of them.”

She’d hit a raw nerve where Leah was concerned, and Rhoda knew he was
at a loss concerning what to do about his sister. But despite Rhoda’s earlier views, she now believed he loved Leah deeply. “I’ll yield to that.” Rhoda smiled, a faint, wobbly smile at best. “I feel the same way about Landon.”

Samuel replaced the napkin on his lap. “How did you word it?” He realigned his chair closer to the table. “I’ll yield to that.”

“This”—Steven propped his elbows on the table and interlaced his fingers—“is the most interesting conversation we’ve had around here in a long time. Samuel, I doubt you’ve dealt with anyone like our Rhoda. She’d fight to the end to give people room to be themselves, to make mistakes and grow. But she has no tolerance for any hint that one person is making a quick, and therefore unfair, judgment about another.”

“Ya.” Samuel rubbed the back of his hand against his jaw. “I picked up on that the first time we met. It caused a rather heated discussion then too. Unfortunately, I think she and I are at opposite ends of a large field. My guess is that she is too open minded when a judgment needs to be made, and I’m too quick to form an opinion and make a ruling.”