A Season for Tending (41 page)

He seemed rather lost without Catherine, and Rhoda hated that he was going through the heartache. But the news didn’t cause her to think any differently about Samuel. Whether he was free or bound to someone didn’t matter. Even as hidden as Jacob stayed, she liked what she saw in him.

Once the workday began, the King men and their hired help had used a
trailer to haul apple crates to her front porch throughout the day. With the exception of a quick lunch break, she, Leah, and Landon had worked nonstop ever since.

“Why don’t you two go home and call it a day, ya?”

“No way.” Landon stood straight. “I’m not leaving you to clean up all this by yourself.”

She swatted his arm. “I’m fine. You do as you’re told, and no back talk.”

He turned to Leah, who looked pale and exhausted. “Come on. My truck is parked to the side. I’ll give you a lift to the house.”

Leah’s body looked as limp as a wet washrag. “I like that plan. Anything to spare me having to walk those thousand feet.” Instead of getting up, she looked at Rhoda. “You know I’m happy to stay and help, right?”

Rhoda moved to take Leah by the hands and tug her off the chair. “Denki for offering to keep working. But as tired as you are, you’d probably break half my jars.” She gave Leah’s fingers a slight squeeze. “Besides, I’m actually looking forward to having a little quiet time after such a busy day.”

“If you’re sure …”

“I am.”

Leah gave Rhoda a quick hug. “It was fun today, wasn’t it?”

“Ya, it was. Now go.” She raised an eyebrow. “You need some rest. It all starts again bright and early tomorrow.”

Landon opened the screen door for Leah. “It was Rhoda’s pleasure. Trust me.”

They left, and Rhoda collapsed onto the chair Leah had just vacated. Her back, neck, and legs were stiff and sore. But contentment worked its way through her, imparting a sense of well-being she’d thought had been uprooted along with her demolished berry patch. She hadn’t felt this happy since that youth gathering at Uncle Mervin’s, before she knew her crops had been destroyed.

A whistle sounded from the doorway. Rhoda looked up and saw Jacob’s cheeky smile.

“What a mess. Been keeping house long?”

She pulled the dishtowel off her shoulder and held it up. “If you’ll come a little closer, I’ll smack you with this.”

“Too lazy to stand?” He moved in but not so far that she could reach him with the towel. If she knew Jacob, he’d probably done that to tease and torment her.

He leaned against the counter. “Mamm sent me to tell you that she’s holding your dinner for you.”

Rhoda rubbed the back of her neck. “She won’t be too happy that I missed dinnertime and ignored the second call to come eat as well, will she?”

“You shouldn’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to. Besides, if you don’t eat, you won’t have the strength to do the work.”

“I can’t say I’m particularly hungry.” She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. “I’ve been sampling my own products all day.”

Jacob gave a mock gasp. “You thief! Stealing from your partners. You should be fired.”

She opened one eye and peered at him.

He grabbed the towel out of her hand and twisted it in his fist. “Or maybe whipped.”

She chuckled at his mischievous expression. “I couldn’t help it. I had to make sure everything tasted right.”

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?” He flung the towel over his shoulder and walked up to the pan on the stove. After scraping a bit of apple butter off the edges with a wooden spoon, he stuck it in his mouth. “Mm-mm-mm.” He licked his lips. “I’ve been eating this stuff since before I had teeth, but it never tasted like this.”

Her face flushed from his exuberant praise. She got up, took the spoon and the pot from him, and carried them to the sink. “These dishes won’t get clean by scraping a bit off the sides.”

She flicked on the hot-water faucet. As she turned, she saw Jacob filling a
pot with canning utensils. “You don’t need to do that. You’ve had a long day too.” Even as she said it, she knew she didn’t really want him to leave.

“Aw, don’t worry about me. I’m used to this. Matter of fact, I never have more energy than after the first day of apple picking.” He set the pan in one of the sinks. “After months of preparation, it’s exciting to see all those ladders set up against the trees with full buckets coming down, being emptied into crates, then taken back up again.” His green eyes were bright, and she wondered how bloodshot and weary her eyes were at this point.

She tucked loose strands of hair behind her ears, fully aware she needed to comb and pin her hair.

Jacob’s eyes met Rhoda’s, and she finally admitted to herself that what she felt for him fascinated her.

Jacob winked. “Besides, if you don’t let me help you out, you’ll still be cleaning up come morning, when it’s time to start again.”

“You could be right about that.”

After the sink was filled with hot, soapy water, Rhoda turned off the faucet and started washing.

“Hey, Rhodes.” Jacob grabbed a fresh towel out of a drawer and began rinsing and drying. “Why are we washing dishes by hand?”

“The dishwasher is sterilizing Mason jars for tomorrow.”

“Makes sense.” He set a clean measuring cup on the shelf. “Did you use as many spices today as you expected?”

“No, and I’d like to know your secret. How do you always know figures and estimations? I was off by a case, and you had it down to the jar.”

He swiped the towel over a spoon and tossed it into the drawer. “Good at guessing, I suppose.”

“Hmm. You’re far better at
guessing
than telling lies.”

He stopped and looked at her.

“You’re beyond good at numbers, Jacob King. You know it, and I know it. And if you’re going to be bad at something, I’m glad it’s lying.”

He smiled. “The family knows I’m good, but they don’t really know. Understand?”

“Ya.” She wouldn’t ask any questions. They made him uncomfortable, and it was nice discovering tidbits about him slowly.

She scrubbed a stubborn bit of cooked-on apple butter off the lip of a pot. “I have to be honest, if the rest of the season is anything like today, I’m not sure I can keep up the pace. Not unless I can figure out a way to streamline my efforts. Any chance we could go over how I’ve organized my day and see if you can uncover a better—”

A thwack on her arm made her whirl around. Jacob stood behind her with a huge grin, twirling the damp towel in his hands. “Can’t say I didn’t warn you.” The mischievous glint was back in his eyes.

“Oh, now you’re asking for it.” She scooped a handful of suds and flung them at him.

He ducked just in time. The sudsy water hit the floor, and Jacob knelt to mop it up. “Towels make even better swatters when they’re wet and soapy.”

“Don’t you even think about it, Jacob King.”

He stretched the towel in front of him, tugging on each end with his fists. His impish grin nearly made her laugh out loud, but she held it in. After all, this was war.

Rhoda looked around for ammunition to use in her defense. Spying a stirring spoon with a good-sized dollop of apple butter in it, she lunged for it. As his arm reached back to prepare for a good swing, she snatched up the spoon and snapped it at him, aiming for his chest. Unlike the marshmallow incident, she smacked him right in the face this time.

“Ach! I’ve been hit!” He reeled as if mortally wounded.

She pressed her advantage and grabbed the towel from him. “Aha!”

He closed his eyes and turned his head, angling toward her the side of his face with the moist apple butter. “You win. Just smack that stuff off my face. I deserve it.”

Instead she used the towel to gently wipe off the glob.

He faced her, his eyes soaking her in, making her feel as if he understood her. Accepted her. Wanted her. She’d never imagined experiencing the kind of attraction that ran between them. She’d spent so many years muddling through the long, dark tunnel of loneliness.

He remained stock-still as she removed the apple butter from his chin. She could feel his coarse whiskers through the cloth. The aroma of his aftershave still clung to him. Had he showered before coming here tonight? Her heart beat so hard she was certain he could hear it.

He cleared his throat and gently took the towel from her. “I … I think you probably got it all.”

“Not quite.” Noticing a bit more near the corner of his mouth, she dabbed at it with her forefinger.

He turned toward her hand and kissed her fingertip. Everything seemed to freeze, then move in slow motion. A dozen emotions flooded her every second that passed. He put his hand over hers, drawing all her fingers to his lips and kissing them. Rhoda’s breathing constricted, and it was as though the world spun around her. She swallowed hard and eased her hand away.

But she could still feel his touch on her fingers and in her soul. She’d been alone for what felt like forever, avoided by most men in her community, never a date with anyone she admired. At twenty-two she’d begun to visualize herself as single forever. Right now she had no idea what she thought. Only what she felt.

Unable to stay near him, she went to the sink.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was low and deep, right behind her. “I shouldn’t have crossed the line.”

She could feel his breath on the back of her neck. “It’s just, well, I’m not sure I know you that well.”

“What is there to know that you haven’t seen over the last month? We’ve been together often. It probably equals a year of courting for some.”

She turned to face him. The tender look in his eyes said she drew him the way he did her.

He swallowed, making the muscles in his throat constrict. “Clearly I should have kept things between us on a more professional level, like Samuel suggested.”

“Maybe that’s best for a while, give us more time to be sure of each step. Our lives are so entangled, and we need to be certain.”

“Rhodes, look at me, please.”

She did as he asked.

“What do you see?”

She gazed into his eyes and allowed herself to sense what she could. “A good man who carries blame I don’t understand. But there is so much I can’t see.”

“Is the not knowing what causes you to shrink away?”

“I don’t think so. But you keep a tight lid on part of your life.”

He nodded, looking ready to walk away rather than tell her what he kept hidden.

She caressed his face, not as interested in his past as in his future. “Despite what I’m about to do, I believe it’s best to tuck these few minutes away as a memory and begin anew the next time we see each other.”

Confusion flickered through his eyes.

Trembling, she went up on her tiptoes and brought her lips to his.

FORTY-ONE

A kerosene lamp cast a dim, flickering glow across the old desk as Samuel jotted down figures in the appropriate columns. Thunderstorms rumbled in the distance, their dark clouds making the first rays of daylight slow in coming.

Apple-picking season had begun a week ago, and all of the Kings’ property, even this rustic office inside the barn, carried the delicious scents of Rhoda’s canning products.

Rhoda
.

Her entry into life here in Kings’ Orchard seemed destined. She made such a difference, and he didn’t blame Jacob for feeling about Rhoda as he did. If she became his sister-in-law one day, well, he’d look forward to that.

His thoughts returned to Catherine. Her character weaknesses that caused her to rely too much on him to fix issues, to lie about Leah, and to resent Rhoda weren’t what kept him from her. In his estimation she could overcome those faults easier than he could overcome his own. His lack of patience and hard-to-please ways seemed to be a part of his nature—issues she accepted. All in all, she had fewer faults than he did, so what separated them? It wasn’t as though he’d given up hope for a future with her. He just couldn’t make himself go to her, talk to her.

And he wasn’t sure why.

Enough of that. He pushed aside thoughts of Catherine and filled in the last numbers from yesterday. The calculations for the orders coming in looked better than he would have dared to hope for after a month of harvesting and canning, and they’d only been at it a week.

Samuel closed the ledger, tucked it under his arm, and stood. Maybe he’d see light coming from the summer kitchen. He went to the side door of the
barn and peered through the darkness and the few trees between the barn and Rhoda’s kitchen. A tiny hint of light came through the windows, meaning she was up, but barely. She didn’t bound out of bed in the mornings. Maybe that was just her way, or maybe she was too exhausted from the start-up of the canning season.

If the latter was the case, well, with figures like these, they could afford to hire more help for her.

Despite her certain drowsiness, he strode toward the summer kitchen, needing to get the final numbers on the applesauce she’d canned yesterday. Just as he raised his fist to knock, she opened the front door and gasped.

“Samuel King! Startle a body to death, why don’t ya?”

“Rather not, at least until harvesting season is over.”

“I appreciate that.” She stretched while stepping outside. “I smell rain.”