A Season for Tending (19 page)

“Opposites.” Lydia scooped up a few more peas from the bowl and put them on her daughter’s plate. “Interesting.”

Rhoda sighed. Lydia made statements regularly about opposites attracting each other—like the opposite ends of two magnets pulling together. Or like bees, which fly freely, being drawn to and sustained by plants that are rooted. But the word
opposite
did seem to describe how she felt about Samuel. One minute she found him fascinating, and he drew her in. The next she was appalled by him and wanted to bean him with something.

Samuel took her in, and she could feel the power of his stare. “It seems I’m really botching this. All I can do is hope that in your open-mindedness you’ll reconsider visiting Kings’ Orchard.”

“Is Landon welcome too?” she asked, willing to be told no so she could put his invite out of her mind.

Wariness showed in his eyes, but he nodded. “Of course. Does this mean you’ll come?”

She looked to Daed.

Samuel leisurely pointed back and forth between her Daed and her. “I should’ve thought about this sooner. Perhaps, as the head of Rhode Side Stands, you’d like to come too, Karl.”

Rhoda rolled her eyes. Clearly Samuel was old school, thinking a successful Amish business had to have a man as a partner. “He’s my Daed. Rhode Side Stands is mine. But I value his opinion, not because I’m required to, but because he’s earned my trust.”

“Then trust this, Rhodes.” Daed grinned. “I think you should go. Spend an entire day if you can spare the time, and get a feel for what you should do.”

He was giving her permission to put out her radar, to use her gut instinct before committing to a decision. “Okay, I’ll make a trip there. But I’m not optimistic.”

“And you can believe that I’ll try to change your mind. Now, when’s a good time?”

Samuel was an intriguing man for sure, even with a mind that assessed every little thing and brought the gavel down too quickly. His love of his family business and his respect for her work made her heart pound. But he also managed to cause the same reaction in her through opposite emotions, like irritation.

Rhoda pushed her plate back. “I don’t know. This is my busy season, so I’ll have to think about it.”

SIXTEEN

Between Sundays used to be Leah’s favorite day of the week. No church and minimal chores. She could sleep late and then go to the hayloft to read for hours without anyone demanding much from her. But today she’d never been more miserable.

Her family sat around the breakfast table, chatting about everything, but she couldn’t hear any of them.

Mamm reached over and laid her hand on Leah’s arm. “I fixed your favorite breakfast, and you’ve hardly touched it. What is going on with you?”

“Nothing.” Leah pulled away from her Mamm. Like everything else in her life right now, her response was a lie. How could she tell anyone, especially her Mamm, that she might be pregnant, that with every passing day the increased possibility made her so nervous she couldn’t eat or sleep?

“I don’t believe you.” Mamm placed the back of her fingers on Leah’s forehead. “Are you still feeling poorly?”

“Only a little.”

“That’s not true, Mamm,” Katie said. “I needed to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, and she was in there again, throwing up. I think she’s scared of going to a doctor, but she needs to.”

“No, I don’t. It’s just a bug of some sort.” Leah’s heart raced with fear. “It’s only been a week.”

“You’re sure that’s all it is?” Concern filled Mamm’s eyes.

“I’m positive.” Leah fought to keep tears from her eyes and a tremble from her voice. “May I be excused now?”

Jacob studied her as if he were able to read her thoughts. But even if he
could, he had no room to question her. He had his own secrets, a past that was open to no one.

Daed stopped talking to Samuel long enough to give a nod.

Leah stood. “I’m going to my reading spot, and since I’m not feeling well, it’d be really nice if no one needed me for the rest of the day.” She took her plate to the garbage can and dumped the contents.

“Leah,” Mamm called.

Leah put her plate in the sink and turned.

“If you’re not better by Tuesday, I’m calling the doctor.”

Leah’s stomach twisted with anxiety, but she nodded and left the house. Biting back tears, she stormed across the yard to the barn. The idea of being pregnant had her so nervous that her stomach ached. Maybe that’s all it was. Maybe.

She pulled her skirt out of the way and climbed up to the haymow, where she kept her stash of books. She needed to talk to Michael, to tell him what was happening. The only time she’d caught a glimpse of him since the party was at church last Sunday.

Her mind too cluttered to read, she moved to the open hayloft door and sat.

For months Michael had been kind, inviting her to go everywhere with him. When she attended her first party, it’d been more fun than she’d ever imagined. They laughed and talked and drank but felt intoxicated with each other.

How had she landed here: fearing pregnancy and not talking to Michael in weeks? Images of his holding her, being so gentle and sweet, tore at her heart. Memories she’d once cherished—of their first time to their last time—now cut deep. She’d believed he loved her, and she’d trusted him. But as suddenly as his attention came her way, it had disappeared.

Had he only pretended to love her?

Maybe he was a little like Samuel. During apple-picking season, her brother went weeks without seeing Catherine, sometimes even longer. It didn’t bother
Samuel to have those spells, even though he cared deeply for Catherine. Still, Samuel would never treat Catherine with a hint of disrespect, let alone do what Michael had done to Leah. Miss Thin Hips had caught Michael’s eye nine days ago, so he should be over her by now. Perhaps he was simply shy about coming to apologize for being so mean.

Leah had to see him. He had to know about her fears. Her stomach churned, aching with nausea and discomfort.

If she was pregnant, surely he’d marry her—after he got over the shock. They couldn’t leave the Amish. They’d need their financial support. Since they weren’t members of the faith, they’d both have to join the church before they could be wed. And that would be embarrassing, because the church leaders would have to hold special sessions just for them. They’d cover only enough so they could get married right away and then finish the sessions afterward.

They’d probably be shunned for six weeks as a discipline for their ungodly behavior. Rumors of the rushed marriage would spread far and wide, and the weight of it would hover over her head for years. But aside from that, after they were married, life would go on pretty much as it did for all newlywed couples, except she’d always dreamed of being free of the Amish life.

What a mess. Another pain shot through her stomach, and she gagged.

She could hear her sisters playing somewhere outside, chasing the dog, but Leah couldn’t see them. Part of her wished she could go back to that innocent, playful time.

After her graduation from eighth grade, she’d spent all day at home with Mamm while her younger sisters attended school and the men worked. She couldn’t date or drive a rig or do anything fun, and she began to feel restless and trapped.

When her rumschpringe began, she’d bolted out the door, sick of being bored and living under her parents’ watchful eye. They counted everything as sin, from reading fiction to listening to music to girls wearing their hair down. It was impossible to please them, so why even try to do what was right?

She placed her hand over her stomach, wondering if a living being was
growing inside her. Clearly there were some behaviors she’d have been wise to avoid.

“Leah?” Samuel called from the barn below.

She was supposed to be reading and didn’t even have a book in hand. She scurried to her stash of books, some in cardboard boxes, some stacked side by side in an old wooden feeding trough, the spines of the books facing her. She grabbed one and hurried back to her spot.

His hatless head came into view. He climbed into the hayloft and walked to her. “Can we talk for a minute?”

She put the book in front of her face, realizing she’d picked up an ancient math textbook. “I’ve got no interest in being lectured.”

He moved a bale of hay to a spot across from her and sat. “I want your opinion.”

“Mine? What for?” She pretended to be reading and turned a page. “You’ve never cared one whit about what I think.” She peered at him over her book.

Distress crossed his face, and he ran his fingers through his blond hair. “That’s not true.” His eyes held an apology. “But I sort of see why you’d think so. I share too many opinions too quickly.”

She returned to staring at the pages and flipped another one. She didn’t know why he’d come up here, but she wished he’d leave. He made her stomach hurt even worse. “Anyone who’s ever come within hearing distance of your voice knows that.”

“Is it really that bad?”

Surprised by his humble response, she lowered the book. “No, but it sounded good, and if you’re going to open yourself up to insults, I have to warn you that I’ve been saving them up for years.”

A faint smile crossed his lips, then he grew serious again. “The apple crop won’t be near what we’d hoped. We’ll yield a lot of cider apples, maybe more than ever. Daed needs all of the land on the dairy side, and if we have to sell some acreage, it’ll come from the apple orchard.”

He’d never shared anything about the business with her before. What little
she learned, she heard at mealtimes while the men talked among themselves. “No one’s said a word about that at the table.”

“We want to keep it from the younger ones so they won’t worry. I’m not even telling Catherine yet. I’m trusting you’ll say nothing.”

Leah cupped a few stray hairs behind her ear. “I didn’t know you kept secrets. I thought that was left up to the likes of me and Jacob.”

“Ya, about that. I may have been harsher than you deserved the other day.”

She dropped her book.

He picked it up and held it in both hands. “I spoke with Rhoda yesterday. Went there to discuss solutions for the orchard, and, well, she’s convinced that I don’t value you as I should.”

Leah fidgeted with a piece of hay. One day, for just a moment, it’d be nice to see herself differently, maybe as Rhoda had.

“I think she’s dead wrong.” Samuel kept his eyes on his hands as he held the book between his palms, turning it a full circle, never once glancing at her. “But if that’s how I come across to you,”—he held out the book to her—“I’m sorry.”

“Wow.” The hushed word fell from her lips before she could stop it. She took the book. “Not a problem.” He seemed so vulnerable, and it had her curious. Since taking over the orchard, he’d become harder—more determined and less tolerant. She’d forgotten he could talk to her without being angry or disgusted, and this reminder took away some of the sting from the past few years. “Did Rhoda have any answers?”

A familiar look of frustration tightened his face. “We aren’t that far along yet. And truthfully, I hope we can get to that place. She’s not easy to deal with, and I can’t afford to insult or offend her. But I managed to do both before realizing it.” He propped his forearms on his legs. “You’re the only other person around who knows her even a little. She’s agreed to come here, and I’m desperate to not stick my foot in my mouth. Did you and she argue at all?”

“No.”

“She says I’m opinionated. But I’ve got news for her. It’s not just me.”

“Oh, stars from above. I got it.” Leah stood and went to her stack of books. “Your real problem is you don’t walk gently. You trample like a horse in a tomato patch.” She put back the math book and pulled out a well-worn favorite.
“Pride and Prejudice.”
She dusted off the tattered cover. “It will drive you mad with how careful everyone is with their words, but if you can begin to see the value in having an opinion without sharing it—the beauty and strength it can hold—it might help you.” She held out the book to him.

He made a face. “You and your books. No one should spend …” He dropped his usual speech about wasting the time God gave her on fictional nonsense. “Sorry.” He took the book from her. “Maybe you’re right about my needing a different perspective. But a girly book?”

“You want to get along with a girl you don’t understand. This could help.”

He flipped through the pages, still looking as if he’d tasted something awful. “Denki, Leah. I’m desperate enough to give it a try.”

A desire to tell him her greatest fears pushed at her.

“I guess I’d better get started reading.” He went toward the ladder.

“Samuel …” Leah’s palms began to sweat.

“Ya?” He waited.

They’d just ended the best conversation they’d had in years, maybe ever. She didn’t want to spoil that. “There’s no hurry in returning the book.”

“Denki.” He left.

Her throat and mouth were dry as her heart raced. If she was pregnant, would her brother ever talk to her again the way he just had—as if she mattered?

SEVENTEEN

Catherine paced her bedroom floor, looking out the window at every sound, hoping it’d be Arlan returning home. He’d left after breakfast, saying he was going to church with some friends. Her parents didn’t even question him. She’d asked for some details, but he’d ignored her.