The Winnowing Season (11 page)

As they went out the back door of the motel, he hoped he knew what he was doing. In the past, whenever he dealt with Blaine or Sandra, he always ended up doing the same thing—making the situation for himself a lot worse.

TEN

Samuel couldn’t believe what was happening. Every question led to shadowy hints that Rhoda embodied a kind of evil he couldn’t even grasp. What was
wrong
with these church leaders? And why were his own church leaders remaining silent? He understood his ministers needing to yield to and respect the authority of another bishop, but weren’t they going to intervene at all? Their reason for not speaking up couldn’t be the orderliness of this meeting. People were huddling their heads together and whispering throughout the public questioning.

Urie picked up a pocket-size notebook from the table and opened it. “Let’s focus on the night your berry garden was destroyed. Do you believe that Rueben caused the destruction?”

Rhoda hesitated, but finally Samuel heard a soft “Ya.”

“You told people you thought it was Rueben?”

She didn’t answer. Samuel started to stand, longing to defend her by describing that evening in vivid detail. Karl put his hand on Samuel’s shoulder and shook his head, so Samuel did as her father wanted.

“Kumm, now, Rhoda. Did you tell people you thought it was Rueben?”

She remained silent.

Samuel leaned in toward Karl. “Why isn’t she answering?”

“If she denies it, Urie has the letter you sent that will prove she told others. If she admits to telling others, she’s guilty of gossip, and they’ll use your letter as proof of it.”

“Gossip?” That was a serious transgression, one often broken but rarely punished. “What’s the worst they’ll do?”

“If she looks like a divisive member, she could be forced to stay until they feel she’s repented properly, and she’ll be shunned for a period of time.”

“But …” What had he done?

Karl searched Samuel’s eyes, and Samuel swallowed hard. He’d been so sure that alerting the leadership was the right thing to do. But Rueben was making a mockery of their nonresistant Amish ways, using bullying and violence just because he could get away with it.

Who else was Rueben mistreating and getting away with it because his uncle was the bishop?

“Well, we don’t need your answer. We have the letter from Samuel, so clearly you’ve been telling others. What makes you think Rueben is the one who went through your garden, pulling the bushes up by the roots?”

Again she said nothing.

“Were there horseshoe tracks in the garden?”

“No.”

“What then? Tire tracks?”

“Ya.”

“You think Rueben owns a vehicle no one knows about?”

She shrugged.

“So you didn’t see him. You have no proof it was him, but you told others it was Rueben?”

Her silence had Samuel twisting his felt hat until it ripped. Were his bishop and his uncle ever going to speak up?

“So why didn’t you tell your church authorities about the incident?” Urie waited. “Rhoda, you will find your tongue and answer me.”

Samuel’s bishop raised his hand.

Urie acknowledged David with a nod.

“Perhaps I’m completely wrong,” he said politely, “and please forgive me if I am, but maybe if you allowed more than a yes or no, she’d be more willing to answer, and we’d be out of here before midnight.”

A few people chuckled.

Urie pursed his lips, not looking too pleased with the suggestion, but he nodded. “Very well. No one wants to be here any longer than necessary.” He looped his thumbs through his suspenders. “The question was, why didn’t you tell your church authorities about the incident?”

Rhoda straightened. “I thought it best to keep the incident between those who saw the destruction that night. Samuel King was one of those people.”

“So, by your own admission, you didn’t see Rueben do any of the damage, but you blamed him. And everyone in your family, as well as Samuel King, believed you? It seems you have a lot of influence over those who spend time with you.”

Samuel sighed. What was that? Another hint that Rhoda was a witch, that she had cast a spell on those who came close? This man could twist anything to sound as he wanted it to. Tonight’s meeting wasn’t about what Rhoda had done. It was about what events could be made to look like. Samuel wanted to stand up and scream at Urie. He had to get out of here before he made the situation for Rhoda worse.

People continued to whisper as Urie questioned her, so Samuel stood up and turned to Karl. “I can’t sit here any longer.”

Karl propped his forearms on his legs, blocking Samuel from leaving the row. “You can, and you will.”

Samuel motioned to the front, not caring that people around him were watching. “This is a disgrace!”

“That it is.” Karl looked up. “Now sit and mind that temper.” He fidgeted with his hat. “Unless my daughter is more of a man than you are.”

Samuel sat down.

Karl faced forward, his face stricken. “It takes patience to cope with people’s reactions to Rhoda, and you will develop it, or you will be guilty of far more than tonight’s injustice.”

Since the day he’d met Rhoda, Samuel had become aware of his need for patience. They saw nothing alike, but that didn’t stop him from pursuing her to partner with Kings’ Orchard, and he had refused to take no for an answer.
She had taken patience then too, every aggravating step of the way. But the kind of patience Karl had just spoken of was foreign to Samuel. It had nothing to do with controlling one’s temper or tolerating opposing opinions or flaws. It was about resigning oneself to the fallout due to someone’s strengths, because the truth was, what was taking place tonight was because of Rhoda’s gifts, not her sin.

Samuel studied the back of Rhoda—her willowy neck and neatly pinned hair under the translucent Kapp led to narrow, strong shoulders. Her strength and beauty beckoned him. Her knowledge of horticulture astounded him. But all of that didn’t explain what it was about her that had made him fall out of love with Catherine. Or maybe he hadn’t fallen out of love with her but instead had realized that what he felt for Catherine was not strong enough to call love. Not when compared to what he felt for Rhoda.

God, please, free me
.

Karl intertwined his fingers. “It’s my understanding that my daughter is not the only one who takes patience.”

That was true. His ways and views grated on Rhoda’s nerves even when he wasn’t trying to put distance between them. But unlike Rhoda, it wasn’t his abilities that took patience. It was his flaws.

“So let me see if I have this right.” Urie’s critical tone grabbed Samuel’s attention. “The night your garden was vandalized, you decided to finish uprooting the plants and grade the property so you could give it to your family, who needed the land to build a home on, right?”

“Ya.”

“Then its demise ended up being good for your family, right? So why not thank God for the blessings and leave it alone?”

“Again!” Samuel jumped up. “That is
not
the point. Her garden was uprooted, stolen from her. Just because she chose to give the land to her brothers rather than replant does not diminish the punishment due to someone who broke the law.”

“You have no proof I did anything, Samuel King.” Rueben stood, his disrespect
clear. “Since you wanted Rhoda to work for Kings’ Orchard, perhaps you were behind ruining her garden. Although, as I understand it, your father, Benjamin King, would just as soon you cut your losses now and end the partnership you’ve made with her.”

Samuel’s Daed did too much talking on the Amish chat line—where dozens, and at times hundreds, of Amish people across the states were on the phone at the same time, some taking turns talking, others listening silently for hours. News from it spread like wildfires, and his Daed should know better than to share a negative opinion on the chat line.

Urie motioned for Rueben to sit.

Rhoda turned in her chair and faced Samuel, and her blue eyes fixed on him. If she hadn’t known before that his Daed considered her bad luck, she clearly knew it now.

Samuel took a breath, praying for the right words. “Destroying property is against the law. Threatening to harm someone is against the law. Violence on this level is against the law.” He scanned the audience. “There is a time to take incidents to the police. Despite what I wanted, Rhoda refused to do that, so I sent that letter to you good people, hoping she’d at least find some justice among her own people. But all that seems to be taking place here is accusations against her. Why? What has she done to any of you that you fear her so much?”

Urie gestured at him. “Sit down, Samuel King.”

He stood firm. “If anyone here can tell me of one incident where she’s done you harm”—he gestured at Rueben—“and has a witness, of course, I’ll give you Kings’ Orchard.”

The room fell silent, and his suspicions were confirmed. These people were not liars. If they were, someone would mutter an accusation just to get their hands on his property. No, this wasn’t about lying. It was about people having their emotions manipulated against Rhoda. They were confused and frightened by all they’d been told. But they were not calculating or mean.

Despite Karl trying to get him to sit down, Samuel left the row and moved to the front of the room. “I know what happened the night her garden was
destroyed, but I’m supposed to remain silent. Landon, the Englisch man who has worked beside Rhoda for years, is an eyewitness who could tell you plenty, but he’s not allowed to speak either. Yet Urie uses Rueben’s notes as if they were fact.”

Rueben grabbed the notebook out of his uncle’s hand and shook it at Samuel. “This is accurate. Besides, you can’t trust anything Landon says. Rhoda’s had a prosperous business for years, and people with money can hire others to do or say anything.”

“Is that what you did?” Samuel took the book from him and flipped through it. “Hire someone with a huge truck and a winch to mow down her fence and yank berry bushes up while she and her family were gone for the night?”

“Enough!” Urie snatched the book from Samuel and passed it back to Rueben. “This is not the Amish way.”

Samuel’s bishop barely moved his head as he nodded for Samuel to go to the back of the room. Although Samuel had much more he longed to say, he respected the authority of his bishop and returned to his seat.

David then raised his hand. “May I stand?”

Urie nodded, and David moved next to him.

David gazed at the onlookers. “I wasn’t sure why Samuel asked me to come tonight, but now I see that he’s become involved with this district, yet he’s under my authority. There is a lot going on that I don’t understand, but I do know Samuel is supposed to head out tomorrow to begin a new Amish settlement in Maine. He just offered thirty acres of prime land to anyone who could say with certainty that they have seen Rhoda do something wrong. You mentioned that Benjamin would like to be free of Rhoda, but he’s not here to confirm that.”

A man lifted his arm. “I heard him say it on the Amish chat line.”

David nodded. “Anyone else?”

A few raised their hands.

David nodded again. “When Rhoda’s garden was uprooted, did anyone hear that she blamed Rueben?”

He waited, but no one raised a hand.

“When was the first time any of you heard that she blamed Rueben?”

A man raised his hand. “I heard it from the bishop himself, a good week or more after the incident happened.”

Several people nodded.

David studied the bishop. “Urie, you heard about it when you received the letter, right?”

Urie went to the table and lifted the letter from Samuel. “Ya.”

“I yield fully to you, Urie, but if this were my meeting, I’d say that since no one heard any rumors of her blaming Rueben, and she’s said that she told no one except those who saw the destruction, which included Samuel King, any hint of the sin of gossip should be dropped.”

Urie studied the floor. “I agree.”

One of Rhoda’s preachers stood. “Someone demolished her garden. Rather than coming to us with that information, she let people believe she chose to give that land to her brothers. People were impressed with her sacrifice. Seems to me that’s the same as if she lied.”

David took a step back, lowering his head toward Urie, yielding to him. “Perhaps Urie would like to ask her if she could have restored and replanted her garden.”

Urie did so, and she nodded. “It would have taken time, but ya. That’s what Samuel and Jacob wanted me to do, as did my family. They all offered to help me do just that.”

“Oh, nonsense!” Rueben slouched in his chair. “Even you with your multitude of witch’s brews couldn’t have restored it.”

David turned to Urie and spoke too softly for Samuel or anyone else except the church leaders to hear. Urie looked at the other church leaders, who were under him, and each man nodded.

“Rueben,”—Urie pursed his lips—“David would like to know why you referred to the condition of Rhoda’s fruit garden with such conviction?”

Rueben’s eyes widened, and he sat up straight, shaking his head. “No reason. It’s just that if she could have restored it, why didn’t she?”

Urie looked at Rhoda as if waiting for her to respond.

David looked to the back of the room, spotting Samuel. “Samuel, I believe you’ve disrupted this meeting and owe Urie an apology.”

Samuel’s blood ran hot, but he stood to his feet. “I’m truly sorry for any disrespect I’ve shown. That was not my intent.”

David nodded. “I’ve known Samuel his whole life, and I can vouch that he gets out of sorts when it comes to injustices, but his heart is filled with good intentions.” He gestured toward Rhoda. “But I need to admit that I’m sort of lost concerning what’s happening. Perhaps we do things wrong in my district and you can help me to understand. But if a man’s crops were ruined by vandals, and he decided not to try to restore them but chose instead to give the land to his family, who needed it to build a home, has he done something wrong that would give the church reason to question him? Am I missing something?”

David’s extreme humility grated on Samuel’s nerves, but he knew the bishop’s aim was to avoid causing a clash of egos and tempers if possible.