The Winnowing Season (21 page)

“I’m glad it went well.” Steven nodded.

Rhoda brought a spoon of broth near her lips and paused. “I didn’t learn much of anything new, but I’ve never been so excited about tending to a crop.”

Landon grinned. “Take it from me, that is saying something. She loves gardening and horticulture.”

“What was encouraging about it?” Steven asked.

“I’m not sure I can explain it.” Rhoda tore off a small piece of bread and dipped it into her soup. “The people in this area are so passionate about taking care of the planet and growing everything organically—from flowers to herbs to small gardens to major crops. Their goal isn’t profiting from organic horticulture, although that’s a concern for those of us who make a living by farming. But the heart of the matter is believing and trusting that the natural way is best for everyone in the here and now and for generations to come. It was exhilarating, and I can’t wait to go again.”

Samuel scooped up a spoon of stew. “Since you didn’t learn anything new, maybe you shouldn’t go to any more classes.”

Rhoda stared at him. “Of course I’m going again. They have them regularly, sometimes once a month, sometimes once a week. Why wouldn’t I go?”

“Because I missed you.” Jacob made a face, looking baffled. “Who’d have thought that? I mean, you were only gone eight hours.”

Despite his lighthearted tone, Rhoda pursed her lips. Landon knew that look well. She was digging in her heels.

“Then you’ll miss me again. There’s another meeting in two weeks.”

Her words confirmed it. She wasn’t budging.

Jacob smiled and shrugged. “Well, okay, then.”

Steven poured water into Isaac’s glass. “We’re having a service tomorrow morning. It’ll be fairly relaxed since it’s just us.”

“Who’s preaching?” Rhoda asked.

“Steven is,” Phoebe said. “Until the other families join us, he’ll be the spiritual head.”

“Makes sense.” Rhoda shrugged. “He’s the only married man around.”

Landon frowned at that. “Does that matter?”

Rhoda nodded. “Most Amish communities prefer a married man as a church leader. They’re supposed to be more settled, dedicated, and wise. Although in my brother’s case—”

“Watch it, little sister. I’d hate to start preaching early and keep it going all afternoon. When would poor Samuel get to study his beloved newspaper?”

Jacob lifted his glass but paused before taking a sip. “And then he wouldn’t have new information to ponder.”

“Oh.” Rhoda wiped her mouth on the cloth napkin. “Speaking of new information, I had two fascinating things happen today. I met a lot of people, but two women really stood out. One knows about installing solar panels, and she’ll drop by one day to talk to Samuel about what he needs to get the horticultural lights operational.”

Samuel dipped up another spoonful of stew. “That sounds promising. I need to talk to someone about it.”

“The other woman I met is a blogger.”

Jacob choked on his water.

Rhoda patted him on the back, giving him a few seconds to recover. “Landon said that a blogger is sort of like a newspaper reporter for the Internet. Some have only a couple of readers; some have tens of thousands. Diana something or other said that she writes pieces for two blogs about organic farming, one specifically for Maine and one that’s geared to help any organic farmer. She said the traffic on the latter is like thirty thousand hits per month.”

“Just … 
met
her?” Jacob asked through his coughs.

“Ya, and she wants to do a piece on Kings’ Orchard. Ideally, she’d like to cover the King family, starting with a bit of history about your
Daadi
, Apple Sam. Wouldn’t it be nice to have something written about your grandfather this long after he passed? Then she’d like to cover our move from Pennsylvania and how we’ll go about restoring the orchard. It’d be a series, like once a month for six or so months.”

Samuel’s eyes moved to Jacob’s.

Leah looked from one brother to the other.

“Here.” Rhoda passed Jacob her water. “Take a drink. It’ll help.” She passed the bowl of bread to Leah. “The blogger seemed really nice. Her degree is in journalism, and she asked if she could come out and take some pictures of the orchard. Maybe get some pictures now and then return in the fall—do a before-and-after piece on an abandoned orchard revitalized organically by the Amish.”

Samuel leaned in. “You declined, right?”

“No. I told her she couldn’t take pictures of us—well, none where we’re posing or up close.”

“Rhoda, think.” Samuel pushed back from the table. “You’re making friends with someone who wants to share our lives through the Internet. Is that
how the Amish live a quiet life or stay separate from the world? You should’ve stayed home like I said.”

Landon could have punched Samuel. He watched the day’s excitement drain from Rhoda’s face.

“I did think, thank you very much.” She reached toward Samuel, putting the tip of her index finger on the table. “I know the Ordnung as well as you. I didn’t seek her attention or agree to be quoted or photographed. She’ll cover facts about our farming methods and restoring the orchard. Anything she writes will help other farmers and will get the King-Byler canning products name out there. Amish run ads in magazines and newspapers, and you know as well as I do that Landon built and runs a website for my canned goods. If you’re afraid we’ll cross an Amish line to talk to the woman, Landon can be our spokesperson.”

Jacob pushed away his half-eaten bowl of stew. “Does this blogger know where we live?”

“Sure.” Rhoda glanced to Samuel. “Like Landon said, it’s a small community, and we’re new.” She looked from Jacob to Samuel. “What’s wrong?”

Jacob shook his head. “Nothing.” He put his hand on her back and rubbed. “It’s just surprising, that’s all.”

Landon wasn’t buying Jacob’s response any more than Rhoda was. Whatever Rhoda had done wrong, Samuel and Jacob were aware of it, and everyone else seemed clueless.

Had Rhoda broken an Amish rule? Not likely. She’d known what she should and shouldn’t do since she was a kid. So if it wasn’t that, what was it?

Landon studied the faces around the table, and realization dawned. Rhoda hadn’t broken any community law. So there was only one reason to be freaked out about the blogger, but it didn’t make sense. Or did it?

Did the Kings have something to hide?

NINETEEN

Jacob’s pulse raced.

Could a worse thing happen than a blogger coming to the farm? He had to prevent it. But how?

If Sandra was right, and the insurance adjuster had set up Internet alerts, he could end up in court. Or worse.

Memories hounded him—construction supplies being sent to the wrong home, money exchanging hands, inferior products being used, agonized screams rising from the ground.

He wiped sweat from his brow. That deck collapsing wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t.

If he went to court, Sandra would need to testify, because she knew far more than he did. Did the loan sharks set up Internet alerts too?

A cold chill ran through him. If he went to jail, who would help Sandra before the loan sharks found her? What would happen to Casey if she lost her mother?

“Jacob?” Rhoda rubbed his back.

He looked into her blue eyes. If only he could be who she believed he was.

“I don’t understand.” Her words were soft, gentle, but frustration was written on her face.

How could he tell her?

She put her hand over his, the warmth of it reminding him of all he had to lose.

How could he
not
tell her?

When he didn’t respond, she leaned in and whispered. “If you decide to clue me in, I won’t be far.” Rhoda excused herself and went out the back door.

He imagined she was going to the greenhouse, and if he weren’t a fool, he’d go with her and tell her everything.

No one seemed to have much of an appetite now, so Leah and Phoebe cleared the table while Steven took the little ones to wash up and get ready for bed.

Landon tossed his napkin on the table. “So what’s the deal?”

“We need to stay separate from the world. It’s that simple.” Samuel pushed his bowl to the corner of the table and looked at Landon. “I think you’d better go home. We’ll see you early on Monday, okay?”

“I’ve never pretended to understand the Amish ways.” Landon tapped his fingers on the table, but it sounded more like a gavel pounding to Jacob. “Whatever is going on here stinks.”

Jacob sighed. “I’ll make it right.”

“I hope so.” Landon stood. “Rhoda came home excited, and as far as I can see, she did nothing wrong. Nothing.”

“I know.” Jacob motioned to his brother. “
We
know. Okay?”

Landon left the two brothers at the table. A few moments later the front door closed, leaving Jacob to stew in his guilt.

“This fear of a blogger posting articles about our family on the Internet”—Leah stopped wiping the table—“has to do with your secrets, doesn’t it?”

Jacob managed a nod.

Samuel leaned in. “Will your past cause damage to the family business?”

“No.” If Jacob wasn’t in shock over Rhoda’s news, he’d be tempted to rail against such a question. “I’d
never
do that.”

Samuel stared hard at him. “For Pete’s sake, Jacob, isn’t there some way to get your name cleared and stop living in fear?”

He could only wish such a thing. The room remained dead silent, and Jacob knew Samuel was reeling in anger—at him, at Rhoda, at the absurdity of a stranger who meant them no harm causing so much discontent among them.

Jacob propped his elbows on the table and rested his head in his hands. “I
should’ve thought it through better yesterday morning when you were telling her not to go. I knew people would be curious, but it didn’t dawn on me she’d stir up that kind of interest. Did you suspect?”

“No.” Samuel’s anger seemed to have melted into resignation. “I just knew it didn’t feel right for her to go.”

“A blogger interested in writing about our family? How did that happen?” Jacob sighed.

Leah folded and refolded the washrag. “If neither of you thought that Rhoda might draw attention—or that doing so would be a problem—how was
she
supposed to know?” She pushed the rag farther onto the table. “Keep your secrets from us if you must, Jacob. But you have to share them with Rhoda.”

Samuel moved to the fireplace and rested a foot on the hearth. “You once told me you disagreed with my decision to keep my girlfriend in the dark about the problems caused by the spider mites damaging the apple trees. You thought the whole idea of being in a relationship was having someone you could share your burdens with.”

“I meant current, day-to-day things. No one tells everything from their past.”

Samuel grabbed the poker and shifted the logs. “But your past is burdening the current, day-to-day things for Rhoda and you.” He straightened and put the poker back in its place. “She needs to know.”

Jacob couldn’t stand the thought of telling her. As much as he didn’t want to lose Rhoda’s respect, far more than that was at stake. He had people to protect. Innocent lives. Casey’s life. Even Rhoda’s. The less she knew, the less responsibility she’d carry. It wasn’t fair to put the burden of his past on her. She would then have to hold back from all sorts of people, including her parents … and his.

If he did tell her, would he make her guilty of hiding from the law too?

Could he go talk to her and somehow find a way around telling her the truth?

Rhoda stood in the dark greenhouse.

Why did Jacob have to be so closed with her? He certainly wasn’t with Samuel. The two passed looks, spoke in coded messages, and seemed to communicate without saying a word. But she was on the outside, stumbling like a chump. At the least Jacob could have warned her that any outside interest might be a problem.

What trouble had he let her cause? And why?

Questions circled nonstop, and the ground itself seemed to want to pull her into it.

She had no desire to demand that Jacob unearth what he’d buried in private. If anyone understood making mistakes while trying to do what was right, she did. But whatever he’d done and why, he shouldn’t let her stumble around and make trouble for him.

Music again filtered through the air. She still couldn’t make out the instrument, but it was the same unfamiliar song she had been hearing since the day they’d arrived. The song no one else seemed to hear.

At least the voice hadn’t returned.

What was
wrong
with her? She could hear things that weren’t there, see people who weren’t there, but she couldn’t pick up on what was ripping at a good man?

Shadows at the far end of the greenhouse took the shape of a young Amish woman.

Emma
.

Rhoda had spent two years believing she was fully responsible for Emma’s death. Jacob, in his tender-hearted but practical way of looking at things, had helped her to see otherwise. She wanted to lift some of his burden, but how could she when he wouldn’t tell her anything?

Once her eyes adjusted to the dark, Rhoda went to the large container of mulch and dug a trowel into it.