The Winnowing Season (23 page)

“I don’t think so. I wasn’t involved in any of that.”

“Then why are you afraid of your name showing up in a blog?”

“The simple answer is that I unknowingly built some shoddy decks. One of them collapsed.” He sat next to her. “Do you need to know more?”

“There’s more?”

He nodded.

“No. Please.” She rose. “I think we both need some sleep.”

How was she supposed to digest all he’d said? She wasn’t sure she could. All she really knew was that she was overwhelmed and numb.

TWENTY

Leah was propped up in bed with pillows behind her. A kerosene lantern gave a low glow while she read a novel.

She heard the stairs creak and moan. Jacob was going to bed. With the whole household getting up each morning before daylight, everyone went to bed early, usually between nine and ten o’clock. Rhoda’s much lighter and quicker footfalls had sounded about thirty minutes ago.

Leah tugged the blanket up around her, hiding the jeans and blouse she had on under her nightgown in case Jacob stopped by to see her before going to his room. Whether here or in Harvest Mills, he usually stuck his head in her room if the lantern was lit, but tonight he didn’t tap on her door and bid her good night.

What had he done while draus in da Welt—out in the world? She couldn’t imagine, but she hoped Rhoda could accept whatever it was. For Jacob’s sake, Leah longed for them to stay a couple and marry. If Rhoda could learn to love Jacob regardless of what he told her tonight, he would feel freer, wouldn’t he?

Easing the blankets off, she grabbed a flashlight. If Landon learned that she’d slept with someone else, would he still be her friend? She imagined he would. Surely he had sins of his own. Had following his desires broken his heart just as chasing her desires had broken hers?

Her eyes moved to the closed Bible under the kerosene lamp, and she ran her finger along the worn leather binding. It had belonged to her
Grossmammi
. Leah’s mother had given it to her to bring to Maine. But even if Leah opened it, she couldn’t read it. Not only because it was written in High German but also because her guilt was so heavy it rested on her eyelids and made them close.
She had been raised to know what that book said about going her own way, but that hadn’t stopped her from partying and having sex with Michael.

She blew out the flame.

Funny. At the time, it had felt like freedom. Now it felt like a millstone around her neck. At least no one had thrown her into the lake with that stone as her necklace. Surprisingly, she could thank both of her brothers for that. She always knew Jacob would help her if he were around when she needed it, but Samuel’s aid and not tattling had been surprising.

Still, as much as she appreciated the care they’d shown, that didn’t change her desire to be free of living Amish. If only she could leave without having to sever her ties to her family. But that aside, her best way of discovering what she really wanted would be in seeing the outside world and becoming familiar with the Englisch lifestyle. And that meant calling Landon to pick her up.

She listened carefully to the noises in the house, waited a few more minutes, and tiptoed down the stairs. It would be best if Jacob didn’t know about her comings and goings, because if Rhoda later found out that he knew, it might cause him problems.

Leah eased out the back door and hurried to the barn office. She flicked on the flashlight, put the beam on the corded phone, and dialed Landon.

Landon couldn’t stop second-guessing himself as he scribbled a note for his granny. Was he betraying Rhoda’s trust to see Leah like this? Still unsure, he left the note for Erlene on the kitchen table before he hurried out the door.

He hadn’t expected Leah to call tonight. The wind swooshed through the yard, and though it was more than a month until the official end of fall, the smell of autumn carried a hint of winter to it. Brown leaves tumbled over the beige grass. His heart seemed to be moving as fast and carefree as the breeze.

It was nice having a friend call him. He hopped into his truck and turned the key. Once near the Orchard Bend farmhouse, he turned off his headlights
and pulled onto the shoulder of the road. He studied the dark house but startled when someone rapped on the passenger window.

Leah. Her beautiful smile greeted him. No prayer Kapp. Her blond hair flowing free. She hardly looked like the woman he’d been working beside for months. With a flick of a button, he unlocked the passenger door.

She got in. “Thanks.” Her long hair had waves running through it, but it looked as if it had been styled at some point. As far as he knew, Rhoda had never cut her hair.

The questions he wanted to ask. “Anytime.”

“I know it’s short notice, but I was going to burst into flames if I didn’t get out of there tonight.” She opened her eyes wide, sassiness evident as she gestured toward the road. “Are we going to just sit here?”

“Oh.” He’d gotten lost while checking out her new look—or at least the new-to-him look. He put the truck in gear and after a few moments turned on the headlights. “Are you wearing jeans?”

She moved her knee-length coat off her legs. “Yep.” She tugged at the waistband. “I haven’t worn them in months, and they’re about two sizes too big now, maybe three. But I cinched a belt as best I could, because these and a dress are the only Englisch clothes I brought with me.”

“A dress? A non-Amish one?”

“Of course a non-Amish one. Are you going to have trouble following the conversation all night?” She grinned.

He shook his head. “Hope not. There’s a little café and pub in Unity. That’s about fifteen minutes from here. It’s open until midnight on Saturday, and it has good pizza, burgers, and sandwiches. Other than that, we’ll have to go a little farther to find anything open.”

“You didn’t eat much supper. Did you go home and eat?”

“Yeah.” After he had cooled off. The King men irked him at times. “But I could go for some fries and a beer.”

“You drink?”

He glanced at her, unsure how to answer. “Not if it’ll be an issue.”

“I’ve got no interest in ending up in a ditch.”

He laughed. “One beer is my limit. Problem?”

“No. I didn’t know people actually drank beer as if it were a soda or something.”

“Which means you’ve only been around alcohol at parties, right?”

“Ya.”

“My buddies used to drink until they made fools of themselves, and I’d walk around with my lone beer, watching them. I’ve no desire to ever fall into that category. I mean, what’s the point?” He shrugged. “I figure it’s to find the guts to do what they can’t do sober.”

“That and curiosity and …” She fidgeted with the knees of her jeans. “If people hate themselves or their lives enough, they’ll do about anything to get a break.”

Realizing she had just told him how she’d spent some of her time among the Englisch while in Pennsylvania, he had to admit that she didn’t really fit his idea of Amish women.

“Was it fun?” He cringed at how stupid his question sounded.

“
Fun
is a weird word, isn’t it? What one thinks is fun in the moment can end up haunting a person.”

“Yeah, true enough. But sometimes what haunts a person isn’t what they did but how they let themselves feel about what they did.”

“If that made sense, I might know how to respond.”

“I’ve got an example. From about nine to thirteen, I was a skateboarder. I thought I was the coolest kid ever—had all the gear and some cool boards. A few years later I sold my skateboards and hid all my mom’s pictures of me skating. I was so embarrassed about the whole thing I wouldn’t even let my parents mention it.”

“That was a tad drastic, don’t you think?”

“Sure it was, but it’s how I felt. Then one day my granny said, ‘You can’t go hating every phase in life you’ve outgrown or you’ll hate yourself for being human rather than learning to embrace your humanity.”

“Landon?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re a little weird. Who compares skateboarding to getting drunk?”

“I would think two sets of people: those who did both at the same time”—he shuddered—“and landed in the hospital with broken bones. And Amish people, since both drinking and skateboarding could get them in a heap of trouble with their people.”

“You make a valid point, but part of the reason I quit being good is because everything I did was wrong. What’s the point of trying if something as simple as wanting to read a novel on a Sunday afternoon or not wearing stockings to church can get me in trouble, you know?”

“Those things got you in trouble?”

She flicked on the radio. “Got any good music?”

Taking his cue to change the subject, he opened the console and revealed a stack of CDs. “I have the best music.”

She pulled out some. “Says you.”

“You know music?”

“Not really. I love it, though.” She flipped through the stack and burst into laughter. “I know enough to hold this up to you and say, ‘Tammy Wynette’?” She shook it. “Tammy Wynette?”

He laughed. “What, you don’t believe in standing by your man?”

“I don’t believe you have this in your truck. Didn’t she sing back with the dinosaurs?”

“My granny loves her.”

“Ah, my apologies … to you for your grandmother’s taste in music.”

“I accept.”

She removed the CD from its holder. “I actually don’t know that I’ve heard her sing.”

“But you got smart mouthed about a country music legend?”

“Yep, I have a vault of sarcasm, and I’m not afraid to use it.”

Landon couldn’t wipe the grin off his face. Leah was like spring water in a
desert, and he hoped she called him every chance she got. “So what would you consider a really fun time, Leah?”

“You mean aside from having a meal I don’t have to work to get on the table? Hmm, I’m not sure. Oh, live music. I love watching people make instruments sing. They could play ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb,’ and I could watch them, mesmerized for hours. Arlan plays a guitar. Did you know that?”

He shook his head. It sounded to him as if she would really enjoy eating at a restaurant that had live music. He couldn’t offer that tonight because their time was too limited, but the idea was fun. “What else?”

“Movies.”

“I got that one on the list. Go on.”

“I’d like to learn about apartments or small houses for rent and look at ways I can make a living apart from Kings’ Orchard.”

Guilt niggled him. Rhoda wouldn’t like him watering Leah’s seedling ideas of leaving the Amish. But wasn’t choosing one’s path an American right? Besides, Leah was already considering leaving the Amish. If he shared information with her, wasn’t he keeping her from doing something haphazard and rash?

“There’s an outdoor publication rack in town. It’s a stand where they have free magazines of places you can rent.”

“Ya, like the one you brought Jacob when you suggested Kings’ Orchard look for a new orchard?”

“Similar. That one had mostly farms and acreage for sale.”

“Rhoda’s brother has one of those books he looks through during breakfast most mornings. I think he’d like for him and Phoebe and the children to move into a house of their own as soon as they can find one near the orchard.”

“He probably needs an updated one. I could get one for him tonight while we’re out. There is one magazine that lists mostly places to rent—duplexes, small houses, apartments, rooms.”

“A room?”

“Some people rent out a room in their home.”

She crinkled her nose. “Like just a bedroom down the hall from them? No thanks. I’ve got that now without paying for it.”

“You want to rethink that, because you definitely pay for it.”

“I do, don’t I?”

“Some homes have mini-apartments set up in the basement or over a detached garage.”

“I’d like that.” She beamed. “Your plan is brilliant.”

Landon’s mouth was so dry he couldn’t swallow. “If it’s that amazing, why do I feel guilty?”

“Welcome to my world, where modern thinking and Amish values collide nonstop. Sometimes for good and honorable reasons. Sometimes not.” Leah slid the CD into the player and tapped her foot to the beat of the music.

He liked offering her choices … if she was truly sure she wanted freedom and wasn’t just making ignorant choices she would regret later. But he couldn’t shake the sense that in trying to be a friend to Leah, he was betraying Rhoda’s trust. Or worse, that he wasn’t being a true friend to either one of them.

TWENTY-ONE

Jacob’s words still churned in Rhoda’s mind and heart. It didn’t matter that it was hours before daylight. If she stayed in this house one minute more, she’d suffocate.

She dressed and quietly walked down the dark hallway. She went to her brother’s bedroom door, tapped, and waited, hoping someone would answer and let her in before Jacob or Samuel heard the noise and came out of their rooms.

Phoebe opened the door, rubbing her eyes.

“Sorry,” Rhoda whispered. “I need to speak to Steven.”

Her sister-in-law took a step back, opening the door wider. Maybe it should seem out of place that Phoebe didn’t ask any questions. Or maybe sad. Did Steven and Phoebe move here expecting Rhoda to be needy? Her life often seemed to be a wind-swept sea, tossing her to and fro.