For Every Season (26 page)

“They don’t fade at all. They’re there, just as bright.” He stared at the expanse. “It doesn’t seem like it though, does it?”

She took a bite of cake, and her mouth watered as she enjoyed the cream cheese frosting. “Do you know the constellations?”

“A few. But as the earth rotates, the constellations show up in different parts of the sky. And then there are times we can’t see some of the stars in those constellations. So even if you’re looking at one you know, it might not appear as such.”

“Even the heavens look different than they actually are.” A chill of excitement ran through her. “If you only saw me here like this, you’d think I was on a picnic or something—not taking a moment to rest because I’m worn-out and hungry.”

“Interesting thinking.” He grabbed the quilt off the seat and tossed it over her lap. “Where are you going with it?”

She took another bite of cake. “I’m not sure.”

He chuckled. “Okay.”

But she found comfort in the thought. Maybe because she was trying to connect the dots the way people do with the constellations, by using the snippets she’d seen with Camilla and her son and by trying to free herself of visions of Emma. She knew all the dots weren’t visible, and maybe they never would be—not to her. “What am I going to do with what I saw today about Camilla and her son?”

“There are only a couple of choices, aren’t there? Hold on to it or share it with Camilla. But why would you receive it if you were to hold on to it?”

He was right, and she felt silly for asking. As she thought about their time at the accident scene, she recalled fighting with Samuel while trying to get to Camilla. “I was rough on you this afternoon.”

“I’m fine. You have a lot of strength hidden behind those girly clothes. Did I hurt you?”

“Nee.” She dipped the fork in some icing and licked it off.

From the corner of her eye, she saw a silhouette shift. She refused to look. Maybe it was shadows from the flames in the barrels, but she imagined it was Emma. “I have a weird question for you.”

“Does that mean I need to have a weird answer?”

She dipped up another forkful of cake. “Why doesn’t it bother you that I see Emma?”

Samuel shrugged. “Not sure. We hear about murders and such, but I can’t imagine having to survive it happening to a family member. Especially for someone like you.”

Just what did that mean? “Like me?”

He glanced her way. “You feel
so
deeply, Rhoda.”

“Oh.” It was true, and maybe much of the reason she’d spent most of her life hiding in her fruit patch, tending her acre of vines. Those thorns and prickles only went skin deep, and it was so peaceful inside that picket fence.

He pulled out a carton of milk from the bag and passed it to her. “When my
Daadi
Sam died, I’d walk through the orchard at night talking to him … or rather to myself and imagining it was him. I think needing to do that in order to cope probably changed my perspective about people and mourning. Grief is every bit as powerful as love. And that’s saying something, isn’t it?”

She nodded. “You were a teen when your grandfather died?”

“Sixteen, and it was really difficult. Maybe it shouldn’t have been. But I never once imagined he might die at sixty-two. He was healthy and fit. My greatest consolation is he wanted me to run the orchard, and I needed something to keep me occupied. But that first year, whenever the day was quiet, in my mind’s eye I’d see his hand push up from the ground and grab mine.”

“Only the first year?”

“Ya, I stepped in a yellow jacket’s nest and needed to be taken to the doctor, and I told him what I kept imagining … you know, in case maybe I was nuts.”

She chuckled. “I know that feeling all too well.”

“He said, ‘Maybe he’s not reaching up to grab you. Maybe you are the one afraid to let go of him.’ ” Samuel didn’t say anything for a really long time. “That doctor was right. I knew it the moment he said it. So I aimed to find peace with having to let go of Daadi Sam. It took a while, but when the image came to me, I just mumbled to myself, ‘It’s okay to let him go. He’s fine. I’m fine. It’s okay.’ ”

Her soul seemed to vibrate, and when she closed her eyes, she felt as free as the winds soaring through the orchard. She could find peace with Emma being gone, and somehow she’d uncover how to let her go.

Samuel drew a heavy breath. “I never told anybody that before.”

She’d needed to hear it, and she sensed that he’d needed to tell it. “Denki.” The word came out as a whisper.

She could tell that he felt about his grandfather the way she did about her sister. “When we talked at Camilla’s week before last, I told you I hoped you had answers about Emma, but you didn’t mention anything about your Daadi Sam.”

His brows furrowed. “I didn’t think about it then, and I didn’t bring it up tonight to be helpful. We were just talking, and the conversation meandered that way. Was it helpful?”

“Definitely.” It seemed odd that he’d managed to stumble onto help for her time and again simply by thinking and sharing his thoughts. “It never dawned on me that I might be the one trying to hang on to Emma. I see myself as more of a runner.”

“A runner?”

“Ya, I started running after I had my first premonition when I was four or five. I told Steven a few months back that it was like he and Daed and everyone else watched, pleading with me to go faster. I think that panicked feeling of running is part of the reason I understand Jacob. We both run, just from different things. And I know we both want to stop.”

“No reason you can’t. Seems like this new settlement is the perfect place for you and Jacob. Fresh start. Your brother is the spiritual head. In the past he may have spurred you to outrun who God made you to be, but I know he can understand you better now.”

“I doubt Steven’s ever had to run from parts of who he is.”

“You might be surprised. I imagine most people run from something like that at one point or another.”

She couldn’t imagine Samuel running from anything. “Even you?”

He dug into his cake without answering.

She poked his arm with her elbow. “After all I’ve just told you about me, you’re not going to answer?”

His eyes met hers. “You should know the answer to that without asking.”

As crisp and clear as the night air, she knew. He ran from the desire to pursue her. He ran from all he felt for her.

She shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t have wanted time alone to talk with him. Shouldn’t be gazing at the stars. Enjoying desserts. Discussing matters of the heart and longing to know what was on his mind.

TWENTY-FOUR

Jacob grabbed his overnight bag as the train pulled into the depot at Old Orchard Beach. Since he’d been in a Virginia Beach motel, he had gone to the beach on Friday night and walked it for hours.

The sand and surf used to be the love of his life, the one thing that stirred him when nothing else did. He hadn’t been able to take joy in it since the construction company debacle. Now that some measure of respect had been restored to him, he’d enjoyed feeling the sand under his feet and watching the rolling waves while recalling his many times of scuba diving and deep-sea fishing.

As he’d ambled along the water’s edge, more hope had filled him. The world of construction and the magic of the ocean seemed to have opened their arms to him again. Was it possible he wasn’t done with both of them as he’d thought? The idea was somewhat appealing, and maybe in a few years, when the orchard wasn’t as labor intensive, he could enjoy seasons of both construction and the ocean.

But right now he was more than ready to get home to Rhoda. He longed to start a life with her. Just the thought of it made him smile, but he suppressed the desire. Since he was in his Amish clothes, he figured he stuck out enough without grinning like a possum. As soon as he got home, he’d tell Steven he was ready to begin the instruction period so he could join the faith. Rhoda’s words of love echoed inside him, giving him confidence in their future. They could marry this fall, just as soon as the harvest and canning season were over. Would she prefer to marry before or after Thanksgiving?

The
clackity-clack
of the train slowed until the huge machine came to a smooth stop. Three other people were also waiting to get off. Maybe taking a
train to the shore on a Sunday morning wasn’t a prime time for beachgoers. He waited his turn and then stepped onto a small platform enclosed with a rail. To his right was a short set of steps that led to the long platform running alongside the tracks.

Iva was a ways down the platform, a camera masking her face. She wore Englisch clothes—a casual dress and a fitted jacket. Her hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail, and he noticed her light brown hair had a touch of blond in it.

He eased up behind her. “Excuse me, but Amish don’t approve of such things.”

She turned, camera in place as the shutter seemed to click dozens of times per second.

Jacob backed up, but she moved in closer, snapping images.

He held up his hand, blocking the lens. “I surrender. Stop already.”

She lowered the camera and gestured across the road. “Welcome to Old Orchard Beach, Maine.”

“Been here long?”

“Not even an hour yet.” She pulled her jacket tighter. “Hard to believe it was freezing until lunchtime yesterday. It’s still chillier than I expected.”

“There’s always a breeze coming off the ocean. How are Sandra and Casey?”

“Good. Happy, I think. We found a really cute place. It’s tiny, but it’s light and airy, with a playground nearby.”

“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your help.” But he was ready to spend every bit of the day’s free time with Rhoda. He gestured away from the tracks. “Any chance you’re ready to mosey homeward?”

“Really?” She searched his eyes, clearly trying to decide if he was teasing.

They went up a set of concrete stairs. “I’ve been traveling since this time yesterday, and I’m anxious to see Rhoda. I know the last few days have been tough on the farm.”

“Well, sure, but the frost is over. I wanted to get some pictures of the ocean, lots of them, and of the amusement park.” She held up the camera. “Since arriving, I’ve been waiting right here, making sure I was in sight when you got off the train.”

He said nothing, and disappointment flickered across her face. “Okay.” She pulled the keys out of her jacket pocket. “You ready, then?”

Guilt nibbled at him. He’d asked a huge favor of her and had yet to ask what he could do in return. Surely after she’d spent three and a half days away from the farm to help him, he could take a little time to let her enjoy an afternoon at the beach. He glanced around. “Looks like an interesting place. Let’s walk around a bit.”

“You sure?” She clutched Landon’s truck keys in her palm.

“Yeah. Who knows, maybe I can tell Rhoda about it, and she’ll want to come see for herself.” It was apparent that both of them were in the Englisch mode—their speech patterns fitting in with those they’d been spending time around. Had she left the Amish at one point as he had? She might have, since she had a driver’s license and a camera, but not necessarily.

“It takes only two hours to get here by car.” She followed an elderly man with her camera, taking shots of him as he pushed a stroller. “I’ve learned just enough about this little vacation spot to show you the best parts. There’s a pier that is sort of an outdoor shopping mall, loaded with restaurants and souvenir shops. The food smells delicious. Then there’s a carnival area almost on the beach. It’s called Palace Playland, and among other things it has a Ferris wheel and carousel. Ever ridden either?”

“Nope. They never looked interesting. How about you?”

“Never been on one, and they look extremely interesting. The carousel has a rooster.” She dipped her head before looking up at him. “Please. I’ve been very good with the money Rhoda gave me.”

“You ride. I’ll watch.”

“I can’t go on the Ferris wheel by myself. I’d die of fright. But you don’t have to ride the carousel, although it has a bunny and an ostrich. You’d look cute riding either one.”

“Cute?” He scratched his face, feeling the stubble of not having shaved since yesterday morning. “Cute?” That word just seemed wrong. “Why do I suddenly feel as if I’m two and running around in my footy pajamas?”

She grinned. “It’d be such a treat to snap a picture of you riding on a blue sea horse.”

“My goal is to be nice, but just how many times do I have to ride this thing?”

“Ten should do it.”

He laughed. “No. I’ll do one. Creature of your choice, but just one, and we’ll ride the Ferris wheel. But first we eat.”

“And walk on the beach, no shoes.”

“Okay, but no more than a mile.”

“I can agree to that, but a mile down the beach ends up being two by the time we’re back to the starting point. Right?”

How could he say no? “True.”

“Then we have a deal. I’m famished.”

“Lead the way to the food.”

She paused a dozen times to snap some pictures, but soon enough they were on the pier, searching for the right restaurant. He wanted a steak, but he’d settle for a hamburger to save money. After they came to the end of the restaurant choices, they looped around and went into Hooligan’s, which appeared to be a family spot. When he looked at his life compared to his family’s, he never felt Amish enough. But when he looked at it compared to the average Sunday beachgoer, he felt too Amish.

Once seated, Jacob looked over the menu. “So how do you like working at the farm?”

The conversation rolled along comfortably while they waited for their food and then ate. Talking with her was like bobbing along in a boat on the ocean. He didn’t have to do anything for the conversation to drift from one spot to another. By the end of the meal, he knew a lot about her.

He poked a few crumbs on the table, fidgeting. “You mentioned your community in Indiana and how tough times are there. I know the economic downturn has been rough even on the Amish who don’t rely on selling goods to tourists, but what happened in your district?”

“Years ago our men slowly gave up trying to make a living by following the Old Ways. Bit by bit they entered the Englisch work force. About half the men in my Daed’s generation went to work at a factory that built recreational vehicles. Nearly all their sons followed in their footsteps. It seems that in
doing so we gave up the ability to ride out a downturn the way the Amish usually do.”