The Winnowing Season (8 page)

With most of the old furniture and file cabinets now on the moving van, Samuel sat in the half-empty barn office, a phone to his ear. No matter who he’d called, he had yet to find anyone who knew where Eli was.

Samuel’s mind buzzed with ideas. His uncle was a preacher, and since Rhoda felt her church leaders weren’t on her side, maybe it would help if at least Samuel’s uncle was there. He dialed his uncle Mervin and left a voice mail on the machine. Surely someone would check the phone shanty for messages soon.

What most concerned him was how Rhoda would cope with the added stress of tonight’s meeting. He put the receiver in its cradle.

Why, God? Why did I have to fall in love with her?

Temptation. That had to be it. Samuel was being tempted to follow his emotions and, in so doing, ruin dozens of relationships. If his Daed or family caught wind of it, they would blame Rhoda. Just what she needed—more reasons for people to be set against her.

No. He would
not
give in to the enticement of wanting her love.

The phone rang, and he grabbed it.
“Hallo?”

“I’m here.”

Samuel didn’t recognize the woman’s voice, but her hoarse whisper made the hair on his arms stand up. “Excuse me?” He elongated the last word.

She sobbed. “No jokes. No teasing. Not now.” She had to be Englisch, otherwise she would respond to his
hallo
in Pennsylvania Dutch.

“I … I’m sorry, but …” On the phone Samuel was often mistaken for Jacob and vice versa. Was that who she thought she was talking to? He checked the caller ID. Unknown.

“I left everything behind, just as you said, and I’m where you said to go. You have to get us into hiding like you promised. And I need you to come tonight.”

“I think you have the wrong number.”

“Jacob?”

“Oh.” Samuel wasn’t sure where his brother was. Maybe he’d left the farm with Rhoda, or he might be at the house or the summer kitchen. “He’s not here right now. This is Samuel. Can I take a—”

“Tell him what I said.” The line went dead, and Samuel stared at the receiver.

He knew very little about Jacob’s days living among the Englisch. After years of living and working for their uncle in Lancaster, Jacob had left at nineteen years old and had taken various construction jobs so he could travel at will. Two years later he returned home—busted up pretty bad and wearing a cast on one leg. All Jacob said was he’d been in an accident. To this day that’s all Samuel knew.

He left the office, planning his search. When they moved to Maine, Samuel wanted walkie-talkies the first week. Here in Harvest Mills those devices weren’t allowed, but one upside of starting the new settlement was that they could establish a few new rules because initially there would be no church leaders. Hopefully, when ministers were appointed, they wouldn’t revoke what Samuel had put in place.

It didn’t take long to find Jacob. He was in the living room, in the midst of a group of older men, regaling them with stories until each one would be grateful for the chance to support the new colony with their gifts and prayers.

“Jacob.” Samuel motioned for him. They didn’t speak until they were outside. “A woman called, an Englisch one. She thought I was you and said something about you had to get her into hiding.”

Jacob’s eyes grew large, and he started toward the barn. “Where is she?”

“I don’t know,” Samuel said, keeping pace with him.

“She said I had to get
her
into hiding?”

“Ya.”

“Just her?”

“What do you mean?”

Jacob went into the barn office and jerked up the phone. “Think, Samuel. Did she use the word
her
or
us
?”

“Oh. She said us.”

Jacob let out a long stream of breath, clearly relieved. He punched numbers hard and waited. “She had to say something about where she is.”

“Only that she’s where you said to be.”

“Gut. I know where to find her. How long ago did she call?”

“Maybe twenty minutes.”

“Pick up, Sandra. Pick up.” He waited, looking as if his life hung in the balance. He finally slammed the phone down. “I have to go, and you have to cover for me.” He went to a file cabinet and pulled a small address book from the back of the drawer.

“Cover for you? No. For what?”

“I’ll call and leave a message as soon as I can.”

“I don’t know what’s going on, but Rhoda needs you tonight.”

Jacob paused, looking startled by that reminder. “You’ll have to tell her for me. I’ll be there if I can, but—”

“Don’t say
but
. She needs you.”

“Listen to me.” Jacob flipped through the book before sliding it into his pocket. “I have no choice.” He held Samuel’s gaze, balking at telling him anything. As much of a peacekeeper as Jacob was, he had areas he opened to no one.

Samuel exhaled. “Rhoda doesn’t know any more than I do?”

“Less. And if you don’t want to watch my life unravel, let’s keep it that way.” He stepped through the office door and into the barn.

Samuel grabbed his arm. “I need to know some part of why you’re running out. Something I can understand and support.”

Jacob glanced around. “Fine.” He went back into the office with Samuel and closed the door behind them. “It’s confusing. You’ll only understand a little. I made friends with the wrong kind of people, but I honestly thought Blaine was a good guy.”

“He’s the guy you saved from falling off the roof, right?”

“Ya. But to understand how I walked into such underhanded dealings, you have to remember how young I was and where I was coming from.”

“You were nineteen.”

“And I was used to this farm, and here, if the apple orchard is doing better than the dairy farm side, or the other way around, or equipment comes up missing, we borrow and swap money as needed to make the books balance. In housing, when people sign multimillion-dollar contracts to pay for a home, you borrow nothing from one house to build another.”

“That’s
all
you did?”

“At first. But then the balancing took on a life of its own and ended up being a kind of Ponzi scheme. The builders I worked with were in deeper than me, and they owed money, a lot of money, to some very nasty people.” Despite the cooler temperatures of late October, Jacob wiped sweat from his brow. “As it turned out,
I
helped to design and build structurally unsound decks. When one fell”—Jacob jerked air into his lungs, looking shaken at the memory—“insurance adjusters got involved. They investigate the cause when a claim is filed. That’s when I learned two important things. One was that someone at the construction company had purposefully bought cheap, black market products, and they had set me up to take the fall. Two was that insurance adjusters are like hound dogs: they don’t give up, not when lawsuits are involved, and they have ways of finding people I’ve yet to figure out. They’re looking to put
someone in jail over this mess.” Jacob shook his head. “Sandra has no one but me and her little girl. I have to go to her.”

“Is that who’s after your friend? An insurance adjuster?”

“Probably. Or the loan sharks. Either way, I have to get her and her little girl somewhere safe.”

Samuel’s mind spun as Jacob tossed years’ worth of missing puzzle pieces at him, but he couldn’t fit them together. “I can see why an insurance adjuster would want to speak to you, but why to your friend?”

Jacob flinched, as if realizing he’d said something he hadn’t intended.

Samuel adjusted the suspender on his shoulder. “How does Blaine fit into all this?”

“He was a friend, or so I thought. He was Sandra’s husband.”

“Was?”

Jacob pointed at Samuel. “You tell Rhoda that I had some unexpected business come up. That’s all. You tell no one about the call or where I’m going,” he warned as he left the office.

“Where
are
you going?”

“I’ll be back before the train leaves the station tomorrow morning.” He went to the stall where his mare stood.

Samuel went with him and grabbed the bridle off a peg.

Jacob lifted the saddle and blanket straddling the half wall. “And for Pete’s sake, Samuel, be nice to Rhoda. She saved your life.” He put the wool and leather items on the horse’s back.

Samuel slid the bridle onto the mare. “I know what she did.” No matter how much guilt pressed in on him, it couldn’t alter how he needed to interact with her.

He recalled the day of the storm so clearly. Before the tornado hit, he’d been in the orchard, and she had called to him. If he hadn’t heard her and taken a step back to respond right at that moment, half of a tree would have fallen on his head and chest and most likely would have killed him. As it was, he’d been hit in the leg.

Jacob frowned. “No, you only think you do. She didn’t just call to you at the right time. She sensed the tornado was coming. The sky was clearing, and I tried to tell her she was wrong. But she was desperate for me to trust her, and I did. She begged me to go to the house and get Daed and Mamm and the family to the cellar. And I did, less than a minute before the house was ripped apart.”

Samuel stared at his brother. “What? Why haven’t I heard about this before?”

“Because she asked me not to tell anyone.” He cinched the belly strap. “Now, be
nice
to her.”

It was too late for that. In Samuel’s efforts to do nothing that would pull her attention from Jacob, he’d been testy and rude for the last month—since he’d realized he was in love with her. Could he find a way to be kind and yet not open his heart to her any more than it already was? He didn’t trust himself to be her friend again, to do anything that would make her smile or allow them to share a laugh. He had to keep his emotions reined in, but how?

He would have to find a kinder way to keep his distance.

Impossible.

Samuel motioned. “You’d better go. I’m supposed to meet Rhoda at Landon’s truck in about five minutes.”

Jacob pointed at him again. “I’m trusting you.”

Samuel nodded. “I know.” And he did know. It was Jacob who was clueless. And Rhoda.

Samuel headed for Landon’s truck. The Englischer was behind the wheel, and Rhoda was in the passenger’s seat.

She rolled down the window. “Where’s Jacob?”

Samuel opened the back door to the crew cab and climbed in. “Some unexpected business came up. He’ll be there if he can.”

She turned, looking horrified at the news, but said nothing.

Samuel made small talk with Landon as they drove the thirty miles to Morgansville. When he or Landon spoke to Rhoda, she answered in her usual
tone. She seemed peaceful now. Did she sense that the meeting would turn out favorably, or had she simply resigned herself to coping with whatever happened?

He had a strange knot in his stomach. Who wouldn’t with all this going on fewer than ten hours before they were to leave?

When Landon stopped in front of an unfamiliar home, Rhoda got out.

Samuel did too. “You’ll wait, right?” He peered into the truck at Landon.

“Sure, if that’s what you want. Why?”

“We may need you to tell about Rueben harassing Rhoda for years before he destroyed her garden.”

“I’ll hang here for a bit and give you some time to see if they’ll let me do that, but I can tell you now, they won’t.”

“Thanks.” Samuel followed Rhoda and then waited a few steps back as she knocked on the door. When someone answered, he went inside after her. More than thirty men waited inside, with maybe fifteen or so women, some younger than Rhoda. The air buzzed with the sound of soft chatter, but the murmuring became whispers as people stared at her and shook their heads.

If he wasn’t witnessing it with his own eyes, he would never believe good Amish folk would be so rude.

Was that fear in their eyes?

The door opened again, and Rhoda’s Daed stepped inside, followed by her Mamm and brothers. He assumed her sisters-in-law had stayed home with the little ones.

“Rhodes,”—Karl put his arm around his daughter and squeezed gently—“you can do this.” Though his whispered words were firm, when he glanced at those in the room he seemed unsure.

After Rhoda received a hug from her mother and brothers, Karl introduced Samuel to the bishop, Urie Glick.

Glick?

The man motioned for them to take a seat. They remained standing, letting others get a seat first. Samuel moved in closer to Rhoda. “Are they related?”

She nodded.

“Father and son?”

“Uncle and favorite nephew.”

If Samuel were to go to his uncle Mervin with a story, fabricated or real, it would carry a lot of weight. A lot. Finally Samuel understood some of why Rhoda had insisted on not saying anything.

Why hadn’t she told him that part? A better question was, what had he done?

“Excuse me.” Samuel waited until Urie looked his way. “A man who works for Rhoda is here. He may be able to help—”

“This isn’t the time or place for outsiders. Besides, I’m sure Landon isn’t needed.” He turned. “Rhoda Byler,”—Urie motioned at her—“you’re to sit here.” He gestured to a chair that faced a wooden table. Rhoda’s back would be to the onlookers while she faced the church leaders, who sat at the kitchen table, facing her and the onlookers. Urie took a seat behind the table. “The others can find a seat in the back.”

Sit in the back?

Rhoda turned to Samuel and placed several pieces of folded paper in his hand. “You’re not an honorable owner of Kings’ Orchard here, only a fool for partnering your business with mine. Accept that, and hold your tongue.” Her blue eyes held a peaceful resolve and a hint of forgiveness as her lips curved into a sad smile. “Do you understand?”

He looked around the room, took in the unmistakable undercurrent of disrespect—and fear—toward Rhoda. He had been born into the King family, whose forefathers had been respected for generations. When the Kings entered a room, they were given a great deal of respect. Over the years it seemed the Kings received as much as—if not more than—the church leaders. How had he not realized that before now?

Karl found a couple of empty chairs in the back, and Samuel sat beside him.