The Winnowing Season (17 page)

He picked up his duffle bag. “I need to go.”

“Bye.” She opened the door, a sad smile fixed to her lips. “Don’t forget what I said about search engine alerts. Be careful what you get involved in.”

Jacob chuckled. “We sound like two old worrywarts trying to make sure the other one is careful enough.” He studied her for a moment, debating whether to leave any final cautions. “Bye.”

He went out the door and down the steps.

“Jacob!”

He stopped, and she hurried to him.

Tears filled her dark brown eyes. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I know.” He felt sorry for her, sorry he had covered for Blaine, sorry he had tried to help to the point of skirting the law, sorry he had been so naive, and most of all, sorry that people had lost their lives. But he refused to get a few
months down the road and be sorry he had let his future slip through his fingers because he’d been shuffling the past.

He put his arms around her and held her. “I’ve stayed too long as it is.” He backed away, his heart aching for the life ahead of her. “I’ll only be about eighty miles from here. It’s an improvement over the three hundred and something, right?” He lifted her chin. “I’ll find a way to call and check on you in a few days. Okay?”

“Yeah, sure.”

He walked away. His feet were as heavy as if they’d been cast in concrete, but as he pushed onward, he found himself asking the same questions he had asked since Blaine disappeared. If Jacob found it this hard to leave her and Casey, when all he had was a frail friendship held together by her need and his guilt, how could Blaine have walked away? Or, as he’d often thought, had Blaine been killed?

FIFTEEN

In the glow of several kerosene lamps, Rhoda stood in the greenhouse unpacking pots of herbs. She was mostly puttering at this late hour, trying to relax despite wanting to scream. The Amish didn’t work on Sundays, but Samuel said they had to make today an exception because a massive storm was spinning in the Atlantic and possibly heading for Maine within a week or so. They had bought the place “as is” because it was a foreclosure, and Samuel felt they had to repair the roof and barn before a hard rain hit.

She opened a plastic container of potting soil at her feet, dug a trowel into it, and scooped up some of the homemade concoction. Adding a light layer of the mixture on top of the potted herbs and watering them would help the plants recuperate from the move.

The farm had been abuzz for two days, and sometimes they seemed to make great progress. At other times it seemed they hadn’t lifted a finger to unpack.

Her shoulders ached, and her chest seemed to have a twenty-pound sack of potting soil on it. But neither of those things explained why she felt so out of sorts. Was it the new place that had her senses playing tricks or was it the stress from missing Jacob?

Where
was
he? Why hadn’t he called?

Every time anger at him rose within her, fear kicked its feet out from under it. She just wanted him to show up, unharmed and healthy. She longed to feel his arms around her, and yet part of her was too upset to imagine letting him near her.

Weeks before their first date, she’d known he had secrets. He had challenged
her to look into his eyes and see if she had any reason to doubt his faithfulness to her. What she saw there told her plenty about his gentleness and faithfulness. So she hadn’t minded his secrets. She had even enjoyed learning bits and pieces about him through the insights God gave her as the weeks passed.

But she’d never imagined his secrets would snatch him away from her. What else had she not picked up on? A desire to
read
him filled her, and she hoped to understand more once she saw him next.

Her attention was drawn by a sound riding on the air like particles of dust, a sound so faint she wasn’t sure it was real. She tilted her head, listening intently.

Music?

She grabbed her shawl off a nail, slung it around her shoulders, then picked up a kerosene lantern and left the greenhouse. The old farmhouse stood quiet at the edge of the grove, smoke rising from two chimneys to knock off the chill. According to the thermometer, it was a mild forty degrees tonight, unlike last night’s freezing temperatures.

Soft light glowed from some of the windows. She could see Phoebe upstairs, moving around in the little bedroom and suite area she shared with Steven. A constant tapping let her know Samuel was in the barn, trying to create a dry workspace for the filing cabinets and desk.

A horse in the corral raised its head and whinnied at her.

At times this farm held the promise of feeling like home. At other times it reminded her of the day the tornado struck—terrifying and overwhelming.

The unfamiliar instrument echoed against the night. The music seemed to be coming from the far end of the property, and she walked in that direction. The crisp air smelled delicious, and she could imagine people from generations past tending the orchard. A sense of eeriness gave her goose bumps, but she continued through the orchard. She wanted to find the music, to figure out where it was coming from or if it was real. She tugged her shawl.

A wolf howled in the distance, stopping her cold. She held the lantern up, peering beyond the property but seeing nothing. Leaves crunched.

Tell them
.

A man’s voice sent chills through every inch of her body, even her scalp and face.

The wind picked up, rushing leaves westward across the land. Should she ask, tell who what? Or should she pretend she didn’t hear voices?

Please, God
. Did silent begging do any good?

The two words came again, this time as a child’s voice, and she had to respond.

“Tell who what?”

She waited but heard nothing, so she repeated her question. The eeriness clung to her, and she wished she hadn’t followed the music. What type of instrument was playing, anyway?

“Rhoda?”

Peace flooded over her at the sound of Samuel’s voice. She put a smile in place and turned, hoping he hadn’t heard her talking to herself. But a shadow of a person stepped out from behind him. She screamed.

Emma
.

He glanced behind him and turned back to her and hurried to close the gap between them. “You shouldn’t be out here by yourself.”

Looking beyond him, she saw Emma fade into nothing. “I … I thought I heard music.” Not exactly the truth because she still heard it. “Did you?”

“All I heard was the banging of my hammer.” He tapped the side of his head against the heel of his palm.

Her resolve to look sane dissolved, and she turned toward the west. “You don’t hear that?”

He came up beside her. “Sort of. I guess.” He tilted his head, listening. “I’d say you’re hearing wind. Maybe it’s echoing in a canyon or against rocks of some sort. Everything here is unfamiliar to us.”

“You really think so?”

He turned to her, concern touching his features. “He’s fine. Your nerves are taut, and you’re in a new place. That’s all.”

Was that what this was—the stress of missing Jacob, of not knowing if he was safe? She gazed into the western darkness.

Please let Samuel be right. Let Jacob be fine
.

Samuel reached for the lantern. “How about we call it a day and go inside?”

She passed it to him, and they walked toward the house in silence. Before they climbed the two short steps to the kitchen porch, she stopped. “Would it be okay … I mean, I think I’d rather go back to the greenhouse.” She drew a deep breath, staring at the circular glow from the lantern on the patch of dirt at her feet. It seemed she had ghosts to wrestle with, ghosts that existed in her mind. She had to find peace.

When she glanced up, Samuel was studying her, not a trace of a smile on his lips or in his eyes. “You’ve done enough for today. It’s time to come in.”

She clenched her teeth, ready to rebel against him for treating her the way Phoebe did her children.

“Please, Rhodes.”

His gentleness caught her off guard. She met his eyes and knew. He had overheard her talking to herself. When she asked about the music, he probably hadn’t even heard the wind. He’d just made it up to console her. She couldn’t blame him for treating her like a fragile cracked jar, but hurt flooded her. Should she be agreeable for the sake of not arguing?

A car door slammed out front, and hope was resurrected. She caught her breath. “Maybe that’s Jacob.”

She and Samuel hurried around the house. When Jacob came into view, emerging from Erlene’s car, Rhoda stopped short.

Relief flooded her, but a dozen new and much less positive emotions came rushing in. An odd sensation slid up her spine, and she knew … He had left her the night of the meeting to meet up with a woman, one he knew as well as he knew Rhoda, one he’d been with ever since.

He passed Erlene some cash, and the car backed out of the driveway.

Rhoda told herself to trust him, to run to Jacob and jump into his arms, but her feet wouldn’t move.

With a woman?

Samuel kept going, and soon the brothers were in a strong embrace. They spoke for a moment before both looked in her direction.

Her emotions warred. Despite her desire to welcome him, she turned and went the other way. Was it to punish him? She didn’t think so. But her thoughts and feelings were as scattered as feathers from a plucked hen, and she couldn’t separate her relief from her anger, confusion, and hurt.

How could she feel so strongly for him and yet walk away? Apparently there were multitudes of baffling passions that came with a relationship between a man and a woman.

And right now she couldn’t separate her hurt from her trust.

Jacob swallowed hard and turned to Samuel. “How angry is she?”

Samuel’s brows knit as he looked at the side of the house where Rhoda had disappeared. “I didn’t know she was. But the move’s been hard on her. The new surroundings have her senses playing tricks. It’s happened to all of us. Even the children aren’t sleeping well. Nothing looks, sounds, smells, tastes, or feels familiar. But I believe your not being here has made the transition almost unbearable for Rhoda, not that she would say anything. I doubt she’s slept four hours in the last three days.”

“You two arguing again?”

Samuel shook his head. “Nee, but …”

“What?”

“I’m glad you’re here. Truly. And”—Samuel shifted against the broken concrete of the driveway—“I don’t judge you for leaving when you did. The more I see myself for who I am, the more confident I am that my sins outweigh yours.”

“But?”

“Don’t
ever
again put your secrets between Rhoda and me.”

Jacob nodded. “Whatever stress I’ve caused, I’ll make it up to you.”

Again Samuel looked at the side of the house where Rhoda had been less than a minute ago. He put his hand on Jacob’s shoulder. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“Denki.” Jacob passed Samuel his newly acquired overnight bag, which now held his Englisch clothes. “I mean what I said about making it up to you.”

“I know. Now go talk to her.”

“Any chance you know where I’ll find her?”

“Probably in a greenhouse, whichever one has a slight glow to it.”

Jacob strode to the back of the house. It only took a moment to spot the right greenhouse. He tapped on the door to keep from startling her and then opened it. Her beauty flooded his soul, but she wouldn’t look his way.

He went to the opposite side of the long table, putting a mere two feet between them. “Rhodes, sweetheart, I’m so sorry. If I could’ve avoided leaving, I would have. I promise you that.” He paused, but she continued working. “Was the meeting as bad as you expected?”

She scooped dirt and fertilizer from a plastic container and sprinkled it around a plant. “Where have you been?”

Jacob had hoped, perhaps naively, that she wouldn’t ask any real questions. In his mind, she would hurry out to see him, look into his eyes to verify his faithfulness, and they would embrace. “I had a friend from my time among the Englisch who needed help.”

“A
friend
?” She sounded snippy and not like Rhoda at all.

“Ya.”

“Apparently Samuel knew where you were, but he couldn’t tell me anything. And all you sent me was a single cryptic message through Erlene.” She jabbed the dirt with the trowel. “Forty-eight hours ago!”

“I let you know I was safe and gave you an idea of when I’d be home. I thought that was enough.”

She shoved the trowel into the dark soil again.

He wasn’t sure what to say to break through her anger. “I wanted to be here. However much you missed me, I missed you a hundred times more.”

She finally lifted her eyes to his, and the disappointment and hurt he saw pierced him.

“Rhodes, if I could have been there for your meeting or the train or made it here that first night, I would have. You have to know that.”

She studied him, her brows creasing. “Who’s the woman?”

His breath caught in his throat. Had Samuel told her? Or was he an open book to her now?

Avoiding her gaze, he spread dark clumps of leftover dirt around the rustic table. Just how much could he hold back and still keep their relationship intact?