The Winnowing Season (32 page)

The pitiful condition of the window, however, was nothing compared to what lay beyond. The parking lot below was filled with playing children, none of them supervised by parents, and many of them looking hungry or tired. Although currently covered with patches of snow, the asphalt was cracked and pocked with potholes with no noticeable painted lines for parking spaces. Jacob wouldn’t be surprised if it hadn’t been repainted since the complex was built in the late sixties.

He could still hear Rhoda’s soft whisper coming through Sandra’s cell phone: “You need to stay there, Jacob. We’re okay without you. Stay safe and hidden.”

She’d told him that a week ago. He stared out the window, hunting for answers he couldn’t find, not out there. The surrounding town was like many of the three
T
s—train track towns—he had seen during his travels. A few old buildings and warehouses with boarded windows made up the majority of the area. In fact, Sandra was lucky to be on the side of the tracks that still had an open pharmacy within a block and a pediatrician’s office run by an older physician just a few blocks farther down.

Despite the prescriptions and round-the-clock care Sandra had received, Jacob had ended up taking Sandra to the emergency room a few days later, and she had been admitted into the hospital with pneumonia. She’d been released in time for Christmas, but she’d spent the day unable to do anything but sleep and sip a little broth.

But now Sandra was back at work, being an in-home care provider for an elderly woman on the richer side of town. Things were more normal, and if Sandra hired the girl to help take care of Casey, she wouldn’t need him. The only thing on his mind was his desperate desire to get back home to Rhoda.

“Okay, baby girl,”—Sandra held up a plate—“come eat.”

Casey toddled over to the small table with mismatched chairs, one of which contained a booster seat. Her mother set her in it and presented her with diagonally cut quarters of a grilled cheese sandwich with the crust removed.

Jacob checked the clock on the stove. It was seventeen minutes fast. He had figured that out as soon as he’d stepped into the place, but he didn’t know how to reset it.

He had been calling Rhoda at night when Casey and Sandra most often slept—around midnight. Even that wasn’t fair to Rhoda, but she hadn’t complained or missed one of his calls.

“Jacob,”—Sandra knocked on the table, grabbing his attention—“stop watching the clock and come eat.”

Could he reach Rhoda if he called now? If she or anyone on the farm was in the barn or near it, maybe on their way in from the orchard to eat lunch, he could catch them. “I was thinking I might try to reach Rhoda.”

“Of course you were.” She grinned and pulled her phone from her pocket.

“She wants me to stay here, said that woman I told you about will be coming in and out over the next couple of weeks.”

Sandra pulled the phone back. “Maybe you shouldn’t call her.”

“Why because that woman is staking out the barn phone just to read your caller ID? Or because she’s capable of tracking your pay-as-you-go cell phone?”

The absurdity of Sandra’s fears grated on his nerves. He and Sandra were sneaking around like murderers or drug runners. Sandra’s needs were as vast as the ocean—the apartment needed weeks of winterizing, she needed steady help with Casey, she needed him to help her hide their every move. That wasn’t living, not for him.

“I’m going home, Sandra.”

She looked at the plate with the sandwich she’d made for him and shrugged. “Even Rhoda thinks you should stay away.”

“She’s trying to do what’s best for me. You want me to do what’s best for you. But I choose to do what’s best for Rhoda.” He took a deep breath, bracing himself for her reaction to what else was on his mind. “And it’s past time I thought like that every step of the way. Because of that, I’m seriously considering seeing a lawyer, just to talk to him.”

“What?” Sandra gaped at him. “That’s crazy.”

“Maybe it is. I don’t know. I just want to see an end to this thing. And the way we’re doing it, there is no end in sight.”

“But you knew that the night you fought off those men, giving me time to get away with Casey. You knew that when you moved me here less than three months ago. When Blaine disappeared on me, you said we were in this fight together, remember?”

“I’m sick of sneaking around. Sick of constant worrying that the authorities will find out.” What he had told Rhoda about his past had given him the first taste of inner freedom he’d experienced since his time among the Englisch. He craved more. He longed to face the consequences and put everything behind him.

“If you get found out, I do too. Those people I owe money to are still looking for me.” Sandra pointed at Casey. “Jacob, I’m all she has.”

His heart melted as he looked at Casey. He often thought reality would be found by facing a jury or by prison bars slamming shut. But Sandra’s and his reality sat at the kitchen table, prattling to herself while she danced a piece of cheese sandwich across her plate before taking a bite of it.

The desire to protect the little girl outweighed all else. But couldn’t a lawyer actually help them learn the best way to deal with what they had done?

“You could go with me to see the lawyer. Tell what you know. Surely—”

“No.” Sandra moved closer. “You have to continue trusting me, and I’m telling you that’s a horrible idea.”

Jacob focused on Sandra. Since he’d told Rhoda his secrets, he could see things a little clearer. Now he had times of seriously doubting that Sandra had his best interests at heart. Was she like Blaine, hiding information from Jacob in order to control him? If so, what could she possibly be hiding?

He couldn’t imagine anything, but then he was so weary of being away from home that he couldn’t think straight. A little time with Rhoda, their talking and unwinding, and his head would clear. Then maybe he could see something about this situation with Sandra he hadn’t seen before. Maybe he could look into finding a lawyer.

“We can talk about this another time. I’m going home.”

THIRTY-ONE

Rhoda held an armful of potted herbs, placed her back against the greenhouse door, and pushed it open. These needed to be moved to a less crowded greenhouse. In a clear sky, the sun hovered over the farmhouse, inching toward the horizon and giving the orchard a beautiful golden glow.

A door slammed, and the silhouette of a broad-shouldered man could be seen beside the house. She was unsure if it was Steven or Samuel. She turned toward the far greenhouse, hoping to get the herbs tended to before suppertime.

“Rhodes?”

She wheeled around. “Jacob!” she gasped. Her heart turned a flip, and she dropped the pots and ran to him.

He swept her up in his arms, his hug feeling like sunrise on a cloudless day.

“I told you to stay away.”

He laughed. “Says the woman who ran to me and is holding me tight.” He squeezed her warmly before setting her feet on the ground. “I can leave if you prefer.”

The thought stole her next breath. “That is
not
”—she jerked her gloves off and threw them to the ground—“funny.”

“Clearly.” He grinned. “I’ve missed you so much.”

Missing the closeness she once had with Landon was bad enough, but adding Jacob’s absence to that had made her days feel heavy and disjointed. Landon showed up for work every day, and he put in long hours without slacking off, but he was angry and hurt. Other than brief work-related conversations, he said nothing to Rhoda. Or Leah.

Rhoda cradled Jacob’s face. “You’re home.”

Jacob lowered his lips to hers, kissing her for long moments. “That was the best homecoming a man could hope for, broken pots and all.”

Rhoda glanced at her pots. “Oh! Look what you did!”

He chuckled, “Me?” He shrugged. “If I did that, then why are you the only one who is going to clean it up?”

She wagged a finger at him, so grateful he was here to tease her. “That’s what you think. You’re not leaving my side anytime soon.”

Rhoda took a relaxing breath. Jacob was home.

Supper was on the table, and the room buzzed with the chatter of loved ones. Rhoda set a basket of bread in front of Steven and took a seat next to Jacob. Before she bowed her head for the silent prayer, Jacob covered her hand with his. The warmth of his love seemed to cradle her heart, and she was glad he had ignored her advice and come home.

She prayed for Landon and Leah. Steven and Phoebe and Isaac and Arie. Jacob and her. Everyone’s workday and the fruit of their hands. And Samuel and her.

Samuel and her?
Where had that thought come from?

Jacob squeezed her hand, letting her know the prayer was over. “If you want to pray longer, you need to get up earlier.” He smiled.

She took a sip of water and stole a glance at Samuel.

“Great idea.” Samuel smiled, eyeing his brother. “And you’re volunteering to get up about twenty or so minutes before her and stoke the fires?”

Is that why Samuel was up ahead of her each day? He’d gotten to where he also disappeared about the time she walked into the kitchen.

That aside, it was typically an Amish woman’s place to get up during the night, ahead of everyone else in the mornings, to keep the fires going. But in this house the men took care of more than just splitting wood and hauling it to the porch. They also kept the woodbin filled, and they made sure the fireplace was loaded and stoked if they were around.

Why hadn’t she considered before now what Samuel might be doing by always being up before her? She’d just assumed he got up early because that’s who he was, and while he was up, he stoked the fires and made coffee for himself, but he made enough for everyone while doing so. Did he do both out of kindness, to help her have a slower start to her day?

“Me get up earlier?” Jacob gave Samuel a “you’re nuts” look, and then he took the platter of meatloaf from Phoebe. “Actually, I think Rhoda should stay up later at night if she wants to pray longer.”

“I figured as much.” Samuel put a dollop of potatoes on Isaac’s plate before passing the bowl to Leah. “Your Mamm makes gut food. Ya?” He scuffed Isaac’s hair, smiling at him.

When Phoebe and Steven allowed it, Isaac was Samuel’s shadow. It seemed odd that someone who could be as impatient as Samuel could be so gentle with children—and maybe secretly chivalrous to women.

Samuel caught her staring at him. “What’d I do now?” His grin was friendly, and she realized once again that when Jacob was around, Samuel was more casual and willing to tease. Did she grate on his nerves more at other times? Was she more outspoken when she and Samuel were alone?

She wasn’t sure, but she couldn’t manage a smile. “I have a feeling you do a lot that goes unnoticed.”

The group oohed as if Samuel were in trouble.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Rhoda’s cheeks burned, and she took another sip of water. “You people need to settle down.”

A loud knock at the front door startled them. They glanced at one another.

“I can top what Rhoda said.” Leah stood and tossed her napkin into her chair. “You all need to have more friends. That way a knock at the front door wouldn’t bumfuzzle you.”

The group chuckled, but Jacob’s eyes moved to Rhoda’s, and the now familiar anxiety climbed from the pit of her stomach into her throat.

“How’s the meatloaf?” Rhoda’s effort at small talk garnered blank stares.

Jacob set his fork on his plate and peered toward the front door. He couldn’t
see it from here, but Leah returned to the entryway of the kitchen and closed the swinging door. “Two policemen are here.”

Rhoda’s throat closed, and her mouth went dry.

Leah looked to Jacob. “They’re asking to speak to Rhoda.”

To her? Why would they want to talk to her? Rhoda rose. “Okay.”

Jacob tugged on her hand. “Be cautious with your words. Don’t lie. Never lie for me. Just answer whatever is asked as honestly as you should. Your aim is to avoid volunteering any information. I’ll stay out of sight, but if they need to see me, just say so on the walkie-talkie, and I’ll appear. Understand?”

She drew a ragged breath. “Ya.”

Samuel also got up, obviously planning on going with her.

“Should I go too?” Steven asked.

“Let’s keep it simple.” Rhoda straightened her apron. “Stay put and finish your supper.”

Samuel pushed open the swinging door and held it as she went through.

Two police officers stood near the front door.

One stepped forward. “Evening, folks. I’m Officer Carl Smyth, and this is Officer Tony Fain. You’re Rhoda Byler?”

“Ya … yes.” She shook each man’s hand. “This is a friend and business partner, Samuel King.”

Officer Smyth looked at his metal clipboard. “Good. I needed to speak to you too. You are the Samuel King who’s listed as the owner of the farm?”

“Yes.” He shook the men’s hands. “Is there a problem?”

Officer Smyth scratched the side of his face with his fingernails. “Well, this is a little awkward. We’re not accusing anyone of anything, but we have some questions.”

“About?” Rhoda asked.

“Do either of you know a young woman named Gretchen Allen?”