For Every Season (6 page)

She’d been told Camilla and Bob were reclusive, yet they’d willingly opened their house to her as soon as she met them. Were they more open to her because she was Amish? Or perhaps God had warmed their hearts to feel that way, to prepare them to hear about her shadowy intuitions concerning Camilla’s grandchild. Rhoda wavered between hoping she’d never find out the full meaning of
tell them
and hoping she’d know all of it so she could be free.

“Your son’s name is Zachary,” Rhoda offered, hoping Camilla would believe her about her
knowing
.

She nodded. “Zachary,” she whispered reverently. “It’s been six years, and I still have bad days when I can’t contain my grief.”

It was a relief that Camilla remained calm at Rhoda’s gentle prodding. She seemed to have dismissed where Rhoda claimed she got her information. But there was so much more she wanted to say, like,
Do you know you have a grandchild? Somewhere. Maybe
. It’d be cruel to say such a thing, especially since it might not be true. Perhaps questions were best. “What happened?”

Camilla shook her head. “You know enough. Trust me. And that’s far more than anyone else around here knows.” She reached across the table and clutched Rhoda’s hand. “He would be about your age now.”
But unlike you, he wanted nothing to do with me
.

The hairs on Rhoda’s arms and the back of her neck stood on end as she heard what Camilla hadn’t said. So her son was Rhoda’s age, but he had died six years ago, at or near seventeen years old. The girl’s voice Rhoda heard was around six or seven years old, wasn’t she? Would Camilla’s son have fathered a child as a teen?

Rhoda’s Daed came to mind.
“Remember the slave soothsayer from God’s Word, Rhoda, and mind your ways.”

She squeezed Camilla’s hand, willing to let go of this conversation. “I’m glad we met. We both grieve what can’t be undone—me with my little sister and you with your son.”

“Seems so.” Camilla wiped at a stray tear. “I’m glad you know. It helps. But
there’s really nothing else on that topic to talk about.” She cleared her throat. “I do, however, have something we need to explore, and I’d like for you to hear me out.”

Maybe it was best to keep approaching the subject of Zachary slowly. But a memory hit hard. The first day she met Camilla, she heard—or maybe imagined—that the little girl said,
Tell them while I still have a home
. Perhaps time wasn’t on her side. It had been more than five months since then.

Rhoda shook free of those thoughts and focused on Camilla. “Okay.”

Camilla pointed out the window. It was daylight. “It could take a little while.”

“I’ve decided I’m in no rush this morning.”

“Good.” Camilla took a sip of her drink, looking reluctant to speak her mind. “I’m concerned you’re not fully grasping why you felt the need to move out.”

“I thought we’d covered this already. I give you my word that no one in that home is violent.”

“And I believe you, but your needing to move in here is a red flag. Do you know how many women get down the road in a relationship and then say, ‘I should’ve seen the warning signals long before now’?”

“I don’t understand.”

“I think you need a way to keep your canning kitchen business separate from Kings’ Orchard. Surely having to move out has opened your eyes that you have too little control in the relationship.”

“I … I’m hoping the separation will end soon. Surely it will.” It had to. Rhoda couldn’t imagine life any other way.

“I believe you need to reexamine where you’re headed, because as soon as the chips were down, you were put out on your, uh, keister.”

Rhoda couldn’t take her eyes off Camilla. Even knowing that Samuel and Jacob weren’t violent, Camilla still had serious concerns about the situation between Rhoda and them. “They didn’t throw me out. I chose to leave. Sort of.”

“Take it from a woman who put all her eggs in one basket: you should maintain your rights and power so that if Kings’ Orchard chooses to send you packing, you, at the very least, leave with what you had when you joined them.”

“I love the business we’ve started, and no one’s interested in booting me out.”

Camilla ran her fingers through her silvery hair. “And yet here you are.”

Rhoda couldn’t keep going round and round with Camilla. “Because I’m seeing Jacob, but I’ve caught Samuel’s eye … I guess.” How did Samuel really feel about her? She rubbed her forehead. Why would she even ask herself that question? It didn’t matter, and besides that, she knew the answer. He’d had a moment of insanity.

“Oh.” Camilla folded her hands, studying them. “That eases some of my concerns.” She placed her hands flat on the table and leaned in. “But it adds new ones. Before I share those, is it safe to assume one those two holds your heart?”

She nodded. “Jacob.”

“Is he the one you mentioned that you could get things straight with if you could talk to him?”

Rhoda fidgeted with her thumbs. What would Camilla make of her response? “No. He’s hurt, and he’s harder to reach. You know?”

“Afraid I don’t.”

Rhoda tapped her temple. “He keeps so much of himself inside his head and heart, and I’m not sure how to clear the air with him. Samuel does too, I suppose, but at least he’ll stand his ground and argue. And if I could get a few minutes alone with him, I’d give him something to contend with.”

Camilla chuckled. “Well, I guess that clears up all fears of either of them being aggressive with you. So Jacob, the one you’re dating, doesn’t want you anywhere near Samuel, who is the one you’d like to talk to.”

“The one I’d like to yell at is more like it, but yes.”

Camilla angled her head. “You care for both of them. You realize that, right?”

“Of course I like them both but not the way you’re thinking. They’re as different as fall and spring.”

“I always thought of those seasons as being similar.”

“Spring is the start of growing season, and for apple farmers fall is the main harvest.”

“So which man is the end of the wintry, barren season, bringing all its newness, and which one is the harvest with all its abundance?”

Rhoda’s offhanded remark to compare them with seasons hadn’t been well thought out. “I … I didn’t mean it that way. For me, Jacob is both. He was my first love. My first courtship. My first kiss. My first hope of having a family of my own someday. But we haven’t been together long enough to reach any kind of harvest yet.”

“Just remember this, and I’ll drop the topic: follow your heart. Don’t stay in a relationship because you think you should or because you believe you owe it to Jacob or even because you loved him first. I once heard it put this way: If you’re torn between two men, choose the second. If you had truly loved the first, there wouldn’t have been a second.”

“There is no second love, Camilla. There’s only Jacob.”

“Okay.” Camilla patted Rhoda’s hand. “I believe you, but even so, don’t give any one person too much of your power, Rhoda—not over your business or your personal life. A truly good man can handle you maintaining some control, whether that means earning your own money or keeping your canning business separate from Kings’ Orchard.”

Camilla held feminist views, and that wasn’t the Amish way. Most Amish women married young, and if they had a job or income, they gave it up before their wedding day. But Rhoda’s situation was consistent with the rest of her life as an Amish woman—an oddity.

Camilla’s cautioning words did make Rhoda realize one thing, however. If she was going to restore Jacob’s faith in their relationship, she needed a place to live and work that would keep her and Samuel from crossing paths a gazillion times each day and night.

“Even if I liked your idea of acquiring and keeping a canning kitchen separate from Kings’ Orchard, there is no money for such a plan.”

“But you’re open to the idea?”

“Actually”—Rhoda fidgeted with her braid—“I think I am.”

“Good. That’s where we start.” Camilla grabbed a pen. “How large does the kitchen need to be?”

Did Rhoda hear a horse and buggy on the road? A desire to look outside
drew her, and without really thinking about it, she went to a window facing the road. She couldn’t see the road for the fog, but that didn’t stop her from going to the window on the other side of the room. She peered at the woods.

She saw movement through the gray mist. Slowly someone moved in closer.

Samuel
.

He was several yards from the house. Emotions as strong and raw as a nor’easter pushed and prodded her. Anger was the strongest, but hope was a close second. Did he have news for her that Jacob was willing to see her? Maybe he knew what she could do to set things right with Jacob.

Samuel attached something to a tree.

“What’s he doing?”

Camilla came to the window. “Flagging the trees, best I can tell. I’d say he doesn’t intend for you to get lost again.”

“Why wait to do that until I’ve been here for two weeks?”

“No idea.”

Samuel turned and retreated toward the farm. Was he not coming to Camilla’s door? Would he travel the long distance through the woods and then leave without speaking to her? Anger swelled. “I ought to ignore him.” But she had to talk to him while there was no chance of Jacob seeing her. “I’ll be back in a minute.” Rhoda dashed out of the room. She grabbed her coat off the rack and opened the back door.

“You have nothing on your feet.”

Rhoda paused. “What?”

“Your feet.”

Rhoda looked down. “Oh.”

“There’s a pair of galoshes.” Camilla pointed to a corner.

Rhoda quickly slipped her feet in them and slammed the door on her way out, cringing that in her rush she was being careless. Hopefully she hadn’t just awakened Bob.

“Samuel!” He didn’t stop but continued walking toward the farm. She cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled with all her might. “Samuel King!”

He turned, looking surprised—and maybe apologetic—as he hurried toward her. “What are you doing out here dressed like that?”

She realized her hair was down and her head was uncovered. “You haven’t said a word to me in two weeks, and that’s all you’ve got on your mind? Why would you come so close to the house without at least trying to speak with me?”

“Is that what you want? To talk? To
me
?” His brown eyes bore into her. “
Kumm
on, Rhoda. You brushed me off without even a pause of doubt.”

A shadowy figure seemed to step out from behind him, and Rhoda thought of her late sister. It only caused more frustration. Sometimes she’d like to banish all thoughts of both of them.

“I had no idea you felt anything for me other than friendship and partnership. Then you pulled me into your arms.
And
without asking permission, I might add. How could you turn around and tell Jacob what had happened? I begged you not to. But you did it anyway, and then you sauntered off with Nicole?”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake! What does Nicole have to do with anything?”

“It’s insulting! Amish women have no choice but to all dress alike, in layers of pleated clothes, with our hair pulled back. And then Nicole shows up in jeans with her shiny hair hanging down her back, and you go after her. Intertwining your life with Nicole’s isn’t like Leah seeing an outsider. She hasn’t joined the faith. You have. And if you’re not careful, you’ll destroy the reputation of this settlement and take the business with you.”

“I’m sick of your issues with Nicole. I needed her skill in order to install solar panels. But you want her off the property? It’s done.” He snapped his fingers. “But I’m not the one who holds the power to ruin the business. Jacob has that—and apparently every woman he comes into contact with—in the palm of his hand. Why didn’t you tell him the incident was all me? It was! We both know it. I owned up to it, but you wavered. Why not tell him the truth?”

Rhoda shook all over, trembling like a woman freezing to death. But it was his question, not the temperature, that rattled her. “I can’t believe this. You of all people are blaming me? Do you have any idea how frustrating it is that you messed up my life, and then you go on with yours as if nothing happened? And to add insult to injury, you avoid me as if I have the plague.”

“Try joining the real world, the one where you understand why I’m avoiding you.”

And suddenly she did know. He was avoiding her for the same reason she was avoiding him—to keep Jacob from having any reason to be more upset with them.

Despite the flagging and Camilla’s explanation of what he was doing, she wanted Samuel’s answer. “Then why are you here?”

He motioned at the flagging around the tree. “You’re arriving late some mornings, and—”

“I’m what?” She looked through the woods, seeing flagging every ten or so feet until the forest became a blur of trees. “How would you know? You’re as absent lately as Jacob was when he was away.”

But she could see it in Samuel’s eyes. He wasn’t absent. Somehow he knew when she arrived and when she left. Her heart pounded. She’d been confident that he had pulled her into his arms as a momentary temptation brought on through loneliness more than any real feelings.

Was that not accurate?

He tightened his hat onto his head. “Has Jacob said anything to you since that day?”

“No. Not yet. When I saw you, I’d hoped you were bringing word that he wanted to talk.”

“Even if he were ready, he wouldn’t tell me. He’s got nothing for me but anger. I know some of his hostility is because he’s mortified. Even after realizing I’d kissed you, he confessed that you mean the world to him in front of both of us.”

Samuel’s brown eyes told her much more than he ever would. Jacob wasn’t the only one mortified. It was as if the earth trembled under her feet at everything Samuel felt.

Anger drained as so many things about this man—things that hadn’t added up since the day they came to Maine to view the property—began to unfold. She used to complain, “I don’t understand you.” And time after time he assured her she didn’t need to. In her quiet time with God, He seemed to confirm that Samuel had a right to remain a mystery. Samuel had been back-pedaling
from her for quite a while, hiding so much of his true self. He was considerate but closed off. Giving yet hiding his actions. A constant support but emotionally distant. He made sense now, and she couldn’t help but admire him for what he’d tried to do—fill in for Jacob while keeping her at arm’s length.