For Every Season (42 page)

She had to admit that would be nice.

But after several nights of joining her on the swing, that’s all she knew. He knew even less about her. By that time of day, she was spent. Besides, she was seeing Landon. If Crist did move here, would he feel cheated when he learned she was taken? Or angry that she was attracted to an Englisch man?

“Landon!” Jacob stood on the roof, motioning.

Leah turned to see Landon getting a drink of water only a few feet from her.

Jacob held up a box of nails. “These aren’t roofing nails. The supply company sent a box of the wrong kind. Can you go to the hardware store before we run out?”

“Sure.” Landon pulled his keys out. “Now?”

“Eat first. I’ll check the rest of the supplies.”

“Sure thing.”

Leah gestured toward the cookies “Hey, Landon. Care for a sweet before lunch?”

He smiled. “Don’t mind if I do.”

She wished they had a moment of privacy to talk, but that wasn’t going to happen for a few days yet. “You’ve done a little of everything this week. I’ve seen you put up walls, install roofing, plumbing, decking, windows—”

“Don’t forget,” Crist mumbled around a bite of his cookie, “he’s also run every errand too.”

Landon wiped condensation from the cup in his hand. “It’s been interesting. I wasn’t aware that the Amish knew how to put in electrical wires. Were you?”

“Me?” Leah asked.

He nodded.

“Ya, I knew, but that’s because of Jacob. Well, and maybe also due to my uncle. All newer Amish houses and businesses have to be wired for electricity to meet the building code even though we don’t connect it to the outside.”

Crist grabbed another cookie. “Seems like a waste of time to me, but regulations must be kept.”

Landon lifted his glass toward her. “I think the non-Amish may have the goals all wrong. Who needs years of expensive education when you can learn while working?”

Was he just sharing or trying to tell her she should remain Amish? Or …

“Are you thinking of becoming Amish, Landon?” She laughed, keeping her tone light, but she needed to see his reaction.

“What? Leah, you know better. I couldn’t do it, but I can see why so many young people raised Amish hang on to that way of life. Don’t something like eighty percent stay?”

Crist nodded. “That’s what’ve I heard, although my grandfather says that only a few decades ago it was ninety percent.” He was twenty and not yet a member of the church. He’d told her that too, but had he gone out into the world for a while like so many young men these days?

Crist finished his drink and set the cup on the table. “I’d better get back at it. Will I see you again tonight—same time, same place?”

Leah froze. What could she say? Her Daed, Mamm, and Landon were all right there, watching her. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” Crist made a fist and thrust it to his chest, mimicking being stabbed. “This is what I get for trying to be the first in what’s sure to be a very long line of men.” He laughed and walked off.

Leah glanced at Landon, knowing she could say little in front of her folks. He seemed reluctant as he meandered off, but he couldn’t stay there as if his goal was to talk to her. Leah set aside her flatware and put small stacks of cookies between paper towels. She then began distributing them to the workers. It wouldn’t ruin their appetite. They were burning a gazillion calories an hour. She slowly made her way toward Landon and finally was close enough to put
the paper towel and cookies in his hand. They were amid several groups standing around and talking, so hopefully their talking didn’t stand out to anyone.

“How ya doin’?” He kept his voice low.

“Good.” Her eyes met his. “But ready for a break from company.”

“I’ll start taking shifts of people back to the train station early Monday.”

“I hate to see them go, and yet … It’s odd to feel two opposing things at once, isn’t it?”

Landon tore off a piece of cookie and popped it into his mouth. “Actually, I think it’s normal and you’re just now figuring that out.”

Leah believed that. “I’ll be back. Don’t go anywhere.” She moved onward, looking as natural as possible while passing out cookies. When her hands were empty, she grabbed a pitcher of water and began filling people’s cups.

“You’re back.” Landon held out his empty cup.

“I’m sorry for what Crist said. It’s not how it sounds.”

“I get the situation you’re in.” He looked in his cup as if it had a foreign item. Then he tossed the last bit of water onto the grass. “Look, we can’t control the spot we’re in. But it did make me wonder if the idea of remaining Amish is becoming more comfortable.”

Leah took the cup from him, staring into it. “No.” She raised her eyes to his.

“Good.” He swiped his hand across his lips, wiping off invisible crumbs. “Could you do me a favor?”

“Anything.” She poured fresh water into his cup.

“If it does become what you want, for whatever reason, will you let me be the first to know? Let’s not pretend otherwise, like Jacob, Rhoda, and Samuel have. Okay?”

She understood why Landon thought like that. It was her fault, really, always feeling pulled one way and then another. But they had a plan now, one that felt right—to work next to each other while helping Samuel for a few years to come.

“Leah?” Her Daed waved. “Do you have a two-way to reach Samuel?”

Her brother was working the orchard by himself, thinning fruitlets, while everyone else worked construction or supplied food.

“Ya. Coming.” Leah motioned. “I give you my word, but in case you didn’t know, you already have my heart.”

Landon smiled as he turned away from her. “About time, don’t you think?”

“I do.” She brushed her hand against his and ducked away to do her Daed’s bidding.

THIRTY-NINE

Samuel walked through the orchard and toward the woods. His heart was so heavy he found it difficult to move normally. He’d damaged his relationship with Jacob for all time, and at one point he’d about brought the business to the brink of ruin, but the part that tore him to shreds was how much destruction he’d done to Rhoda’s life.

Unforgiveable, really.

All because of a moment of weakness.

The farm was quiet now except for the lone sound of Jacob’s work at the harvest kitchen. He’d thought the roofing work was finished days ago, but he didn’t know much about construction, especially compared to his brother. The last of the family and construction crews had left a couple of hours ago.

Samuel’s muscles ached from the days of thinning fruitlets—hours spent on a ladder with his hands stretched out and his body twisted as he removed any fruitlets that touched another. Apples touching while maturing meant both would rot at the point of contact.

Thinning fruitlets made sense. It had to be done, and Jacob couldn’t tolerate him being around, not that Samuel blamed him, so he’d spent the week staying busy in the orchard, pruning the abundance caused by Rhoda’s green thumb.

But if every aching muscle and bone in his body were combined and lodged in his heart, it wouldn’t compare to the pain there.

He stepped into the edge of the woods, not sure what his destination was. He wanted to find a way to let go of even a little of his grief. The hardest part in all of this was how sad Rhoda seemed.

Jacob believed getting her off this farm was the answer. Samuel prayed he was right.

There was a lot left to do on the kitchen, but the building was on track to be completed at least a week before the harvest began. Siding would arrive tomorrow, flooring the next day, followed by interior doors, cabinets, sinks, a commode, shelving, and whatever else it’d take to finish the job.

Rhoda was sitting high on a rock that jutted out from the ground, staring in the opposite direction from where Samuel was. He turned, easing away from her and cringing as leaves and twigs broke under his feet.

“Samuel King.”

He was caught, and as much as he wanted to talk to her, he didn’t want to be the cause for any trouble. “Sorry.”

She motioned for him.

He closed the gap between them, but she was several feet higher than he when he came to a halt at the foot of the rock. “I had no intention of stumbling upon you.”

She pulled her bent legs up to her chest, her dress flowing to her feet. “That could be our motto.” She smiled a sad smile. “No?”

He swallowed hard. “I’m sorry, Rhoda. You have no idea how sorry.”

“I know. All of us are. But it wasn’t your fault. The kiss was a side effect of what was happening between us, not the cause of all that followed.”

Rustling noises filled the air around them. She peered behind him, but when he turned, he didn’t see anything. Probably a rabbit or a deer. Those creatures made a lot of noise when walking over the ground covering in the woods.

She propped her chin on her knees. “It’s sort of funny how hindsight is so clear.”

He had dozens of thoughts swirling inside his brain, but he couldn’t imagine anything intelligent to say. “You don’t look as if much of anything is funny right now.”

A gentle wind played with the strings of her prayer Kapp, and Rhoda brushed them behind her back. “I had a carriage at one time. Well, it was my Daed’s, but I was driving it when the wheels of a passing car flung what had to
be a tiny stone at the windshield. It barely left a mark. I inspected it, and it seemed to be only an insignificant chip. As time wore on, I noticed a small crack. Then another. And another. All starting at that tiny chip and spreading out and widening until it covered so much of the windshield it was impossible to ignore and difficult to see through. One morning when I went to the rig, glass seemed to be everywhere except where it was supposed to be.”

What sort of man allowed himself to chip anyone’s window, especially his closest friend’s as well as his brother’s? “I’m sorry for being the chip.”

Her wry, peaceful smile caught him off guard. “Did the tiny stone decide to hurl itself against the window?”

“We’re not lifeless pieces of debris. We have choices. We make decisions.”

“That we do. But sometimes life jerks the choices from us—like when a tornado comes through. And when it’s over, all we can do is cope, accept, and figure out what to do next.”

Samuel couldn’t believe she had compassion and grace for him. He didn’t deserve it. “It’s good of you to try to help me feel better. I wish I knew something I could do or say to help you. If I could go back, I’d keep my feelings in hiding.”

“Would that be enough?” She shook her head. “I think not. It all would have simply played out differently, and we’d still be right here, mired in heartache. But it’ll get better, for all of us. Jacob’s right. We can’t all stay on this farm. After I’m gone, I’ll talk to Landon and Leah regularly, making sure they know what needs to be done and how. I’ll write out all I can about what I know and send it in letters.”

“We’ll take good care of the orchard, Rhoda.” Samuel propped his foot on the rock. “There are parts to our story that I know God was clearly orchestrating. Leah stumbling into your fruit garden, causing us to meet. You and me relating through our keen interest in growing fruit. Rueben giving you cause to join Kings’ Orchard, and you saving my family from dying in that tornado.”

The wood popped and crackled again, only louder this time. She glanced behind him, but when her focus returned, he didn’t bother looking.

“I didn’t save Jacob.”

“It was a rainy day. The Kings always slept in an hour or two on rainy days.
Daadi Sam, my grandfather, began that tradition when his children were young. He said if you want your family to pray for rain regularly, you reward them when it does rain.”

She chuckled. “Smart man.”

“If you hadn’t been there and Jacob hadn’t been smitten with you, he’d have been in his bed with all the other Kings when the wind ripped off the second floor.”

“You sound like me, Samuel. We’re looking for every silver lining. It helps to view things that way.”

He jammed his hands into his pockets. “Did you know that I found you so irritating those first few weeks and months that I went to Leah for answers. She gave me a girly book to read—
Pride and Prejudice
. It helped. Some.”

“You read that, for me … to be able to get along with me better? Even while still seeing Catherine?”

“What can I say? You got under my skin, and Kings’ Orchard needed your expertise.”

“Good grief.” Jacob’s voice rang out.

Samuel wheeled around.

Jacob’s hands were stuffed in his pockets. He rolled his eyes. “You both get under my skin.” He ambled toward them before stopping to lean against a tree. “When I saw Samuel heading for the woods not long after Rhoda, I started this way.” He motioned with his thumb, pointing behind him. “You’d be amazed what you can see from the roof of the harvest kitchen. And what I thought I’d say when I arrived was, if I lose Rhoda to the likes of you, when I leave, I’ll take as much of her heart with me as possible.”

Samuel’s thoughts, his guilt, his concern he’d again made things worse for Rhoda made his head swim.

Jacob walked past Samuel and took a seat on the rock. But unlike Rhoda, who’d climbed to the high point of the rock, he kept his feet on the ground and stayed more than a foot below her. “But you two have really deep, confusing conversations that, by the way, are in need of a few jokes.”

Rhoda seemed unusually calm or perhaps too weary to react.

Jacob’s eyes met Rhoda’s. “Odd as it is, I can’t help but see life differently when I eavesdrop on you two talking. And this much is very clear to me: you need to be here, on this farm, for far more than a few weeks during canning season. You need to be here for every season.” He grasped his suspenders. “I’m not cut out to stay put. Leah’s probably right. After I repay Uncle Mervin for the crews he’ll send the next few weeks to complete the harvest kitchen, I’ll get an itch and want to move to another Amish community. Then a little later, another one, going wherever the best construction jobs are.” He rubbed his chest. “Man, this hurts. I’m telling you, love stinks.” He held out his hand for Rhoda’s. “That little spiel I just gave about wanting freedom to move and you wanting roots—although we know it’s only a small piece of the truth, it’s what we’re going to tell others.”