For Every Season (23 page)

The war of right and wrong raged within her, and tears stung her eyes. People were wrong about the Amish life being simple. It was so very complicated. Were it not so, she would do everything in her power to hold on to Landon. She’d been so set on leaving the Amish until she’d witnessed how bravely her family had pulled together and faced all the troubles of the past year.

“Leah, am I wrong?”

The manual looked daunting, and she still couldn’t imagine asking her mom for her birth certificate so she could get her driver’s license. “Not wrong.” She tucked the book into her pocket. The idea felt empowering. It also felt … sinful.

Driving aside, would it solve any of her issues about joining the faith if Landon also joined? She didn’t know if she even liked that idea. His joining the faith wouldn’t lessen her work load or make the rules easier to bear. Nonetheless, she was intensely curious. “Ever thought of becoming Amish?”

Landon almost snorted, as if he was trying to muffle a laugh. “Not even for a moment.”

Leah was certain her face was now bright crimson, even in the firelight.

He held his hands over the fire. “I used to dream of helping Rhoda escape the life, except she never wanted to. I understand why she feels that way. It’s part of her heart as well as who she is. But it’s not the life for me, Leah.”

“Because you’d have to give up modern technology?”

“That’d be a sacrifice, but the real issue is I don’t agree with the Ordnung. If you do, I respect that—just like I do for Rhoda. But to me it’s a list of rules created by men who’ve decided God doesn’t want people to move forward with the times.”

“But you’ve just recently started going to church. So can you be sure what God wants or feels?”

“Nope. But if sin is an issue of the heart, a set of man-made rules isn’t going to fix it. Is someone less sinful because they drive a horse and buggy rather than a car?”

“A rig keeps a person closer to home.”

“And if sin is in the heart, then the sin is kept closer to home, right?” He chuckled. “Seriously, does washing clothes in a wringer washer and hanging them on the line make the heart more pure than using an electric washing machine and dryer?”

“Women are to be keepers of the home, and our paced ways keep idle hands busy.”

“So you, Phoebe, and Rhoda have problems being idle?”

“No, but we’re not typical Amish women.”

“But you and any Amish woman who might stretch outside the Ordnung boundary have to follow the rule book about how to accomplish tasks in a specific way, even if doing so is a heavy, unnecessary burden on your day. It keeps the Amish beliefs and culture strong, and I get that. It’s worth protecting in many, many ways. But you, Rhoda, and Phoebe should be free to handle a day as you see fit. It’s between you and God, not between you and the Ordnung. So joining the Amish is not for me.”

“Okay, okay.” Leah raised her mug in surrender. “I get it. I was only thinking out loud.”

“That’s fine. I just don’t want to lie to you or mislead you. I like to be honest. And believe me, I’ll always be honest with you.”

The driver’s manual in her coat pocket felt like a pile of rocks. “And you think I should learn to drive?”

“I do.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. “The day Rhoda’s sister was killed, Rhoda was in her fruit garden when she had an insight. In her panic to get to Emma, she fell hard, and when the gunshot rang out, Rhoda went into shock. I was in my truck, going down the road, minding my own business, when I saw her. I peeled her off the concrete, but I knew nothing to do for her other than take her to the closest medical facility.” He pulled a card out of his billfold. “Not long after that, I took a course in CPR and first aid. I’ve not needed it so far, but at least now I have some idea what to do and not do.”

She turned the card over again and again. His line of thinking had more than just merit. She now had a valid motive for getting a license. Guilt faded,
and she no longer wavered on this one topic. Could he do that with other topics as well? “If I never need to use the license, what harm came of having it? But if an emergency arose and I didn’t possess the skill, I couldn’t turn back the hands of time.”

“Exactly.”

“Landon.” Leah wasn’t sure how she was going to ask her next question.

“Yeah?”

“You have solid reasons why I should get a license. You got any of that for why I shouldn’t remain Amish?”

“Actually, I—”

“Hallo.” Samuel strode toward them. “Landon, the east dip has a wind cutting through it, so it’s used more wood than expected. If you’ll drive, I’ll unload wood as we go.”

“Sure.”

As they disappeared over the knoll, Leah was relieved Samuel had interrupted them. Did she really want to know Landon’s explanations for why she shouldn’t join the faith?

There were things she had to figure out on her own. She pulled the driver’s manual out of her pocket and smiled.

And things she needed to learn from sources outside of her people.

TWENTY

Rhoda roused, opening her eyes. It was dark, but the silhouettes surrounding her were of the living room in the farmhouse. The couch under her was soft and inviting, but how’d she get here? She sat upright, trying to read the clock. The digital ones at the Cranfords’ were much easier to see.

She squinted, making out the positions of the hands. Five o’clock. The faint memory of coming in around three thirty to warm up teased her brain. Maybe she’d rested her eyes for a moment and fallen asleep.

She breathed in the smells and feel of home with its crooked staircase, oversize hearths, and windows that rattled when the wind howled. Camilla’s place was much nicer, but being under this roof reminded her of the old house she’d grown up in. Unlike her home in Morgansville, Pennsylvania, here she was free to be herself—uncomfortable intuitions and all. Samuel saw to that. Jacob would too when he was settled and living here full-time.

Her eyes and body ached, but tending to the orchard was as much a part of her now as it was any of the Kings. The sense of contentment and joy defied logic, especially as they fought against the frost, but she never felt more alive or gratified than when nurturing plants.

She grabbed her overnight bag off a chair and staggered into the bathroom. She flipped on the shower before looking out the tiny window. It was impossible to see much from here, but she caught a glimpse of someone driving a wagon out of the orchard. After a quick shower and some food, she’d relieve Leah.

Before long Rhoda was walking into the kitchen. Samuel sat at the table with his back to the fire and a mug of coffee in hand. A dozen emotions hit her all at once, surprising her. She missed having time with him before anyone else
was up. Guilt and fear nipped at her. Apparently Jacob had been more right than she’d realized to want her living with Camilla and Bob. But what about returning here to live?

“Morning.” She tried to sound casual. Had she managed it? It’d probably be wise to eat a few bites of food and leave. There was a loaf of breakfast bread on the table. Near it were small plates, each holding separate items: butter, cheese, and fruits.

Samuel glanced up, looking no worse for the wear of working all through the night. “Good morning.” His voice sounded hoarse from breathing in the smoke from the wood and oil fires. Did hers?

The plate in front of him was more than half full, so he wasn’t done eating. He focused on the contents of his mug.

She sat across from him. Would he forgive her if she said the truth: that she missed talking with him over coffee before sunrise?

His eyes met hers, and she rose and got a mug and a clean plate from the cabinet. “How did the trees fare?” She filled the cup with coffee.

“Good, I think. I saw no signs of frost accumulating, but we won’t know for sure until the buds either continue to blossom or wither.”

Like relationships
, she thought.

When she returned to the table, she focused on the food on her plate. “Did Jacob call?” She knew he’d checked the phone messages before coming inside.

“No.” Samuel folded his newspaper and stared at it. “He won’t, not with us working around the clock.”

“He’s a good man.” Why had she said that?

“You don’t need to justify your feelings to me.”

“I wasn’t,” she snapped, but maybe she was. Or was she trying to remind herself where her loyalties were and why? Desperate to leave the house, she crammed several bites of bread into her mouth and tried to wash it down with coffee that was entirely too hot. With the mass of food swallowed, she wrapped the rest of the items on her plate in a napkin, ready to put it in her apron pocket and go.

Samuel lifted his mug. “It’s awkward being in this room without him here, isn’t it?”

She took a deep breath. “Very.”

She and Samuel had spent months of mornings quietly talking while Jacob was away. What a fool she’d been not to realize how close she’d grown to Samuel during that time.

She shoved the napkin into her apron pocket, not quite as panicked to rush to the door. How did a little direct honesty manage to quiet the storm of nerves in her?

“It’s just us, Rhoda. The same me. The same you. I won’t cross the line again. Can you trust that?”

Is that what had her spooked, thinking he might say or do something inappropriate? She picked up the mug and held it close to her lips, willing to finish the drink before leaving. “I do trust that.”

Samuel briefly touched the back of her hand with his finger, sending shock waves through her. When she looked up, he nodded toward the kitchen door. Phoebe had walked into the kitchen, and she stood there, pale and trembling.

Rhoda went to her. “What’s wrong?”

Phoebe’s eyes brimmed with tears as she turned her back toward Samuel. “I lost my baby.” She embraced Rhoda, sobbing.

TWENTY-ONE

Jacob stared at the gray walls of the conference room. The windowless chamber was void of any decoration, including a clock.

While waiting for the attorney to ask him another question, he let his mind meander. Time. A lot of Amish men removed the bands on their wrist-watches and carried the watches in their pockets. He’d never cared to do that. There was no need for it on the farm or at a construction site. He could guess the time and be close enough, but right now he had no clue what the hour was.

Four men and a woman were with him: three lawyers, a paralegal, and a court reporter. Craig had contacted his colleague Tony Gates to represent Jacob. The upside was Jacob wouldn’t need his services all that much. Even if Jacob had to return to testify, he wouldn’t need a lawyer to accompany him. The downside was the questioning had been going on for more than five hours, and Jacob was paying his lawyer $275 an hour.

His chest ached as the fullness of his wrongdoing hounded him.

“Okay.” Tony took a deep breath while looking through his notes. He sounded so bored that Jacob thought he might doze off midsentence. “We know you’re getting tired. It won’t be much longer.”

That had been said several times even before they took a break for lunch. Maybe it was how these men kept from going stir-crazy sitting inside most of the day, hashing and rehashing events they cared nothing about.

Despite the court reporter recording every word, Tony scribbled notes on his own pad.

It was beginning to dawn on Jacob that the more he answered their questions, the more the blame seemed to shift onto his shoulders. If he’d seen what
was wrong at the construction site, why had he continued to work for the company? Did he think he had what was needed to fix it?

One of the lawyers slid a paper across to Tony.

Tony nodded and then looked at Jacob. “Should we take a break?”

Compared to everyone fighting the frost at Orchard Bend, Jacob was doing nothing but sitting in this room. Nevertheless, exhaustion weighed heavily on him. “I’m fine.” He just wanted to be done.

The day had started with the lawyers bringing in stacks of paperwork and pages of questions, which they’d asked him in quick succession. But as the day wore on, the men seemed to take each of his answers and then ask a different question.

Would his testimony help the families of the two women who’d been killed when the deck collapsed?

He hoped so.

Tony laid the paper on the table and nodded to a lawyer.

The attorney introduced as Patrick focused on Jacob. “How much time passed between when the deck collapsed and when you left town?”

“An hour, maybe a little more.”

“What took place between the time the deck fell and when you left?”

Did he have to explain that again? How much shame could one room hold?

“Do you need the question repeated?” Tony asked.

Jacob shook his head and relayed the whole story again. When he learned about the deck, his first instinct was to run. At the time he hadn’t really understood why, but it slowly dawned on him. Regardless of having the right motivation, he knew he’d been a part of too many shady dealings for Jones’ Construction, and when the deck fell, he’d reacted out of guilt and fear. He’d followed his emotions and checked with Sandra. She’d assured him that, if he stayed, he’d go to jail for crimes he hadn’t committed. After talking with her, he believed Blaine had set him up. Now he knew that Sandra had believed that too.

“Did you contact Blaine McAlister before leaving?”

Jacob studied his hands. “I tried, but I couldn’t reach him.”

“Did you contact Skeet Jones of Jones’ Construction?”

“I tried.”

“But you believed the men knew what had happened?”

“Yes.”

“What made you believe they knew what had taken place?”

“I returned to the office, and no one was there. The safe was wide open and empty. The filing cabinet had been ransacked. I called Blaine’s cell phone and discovered it in the trash. So I called Sandra, Blaine’s wife, to see if she’d heard from him. She had. He’d come home in a rush, packing and talking quickly. He indicated that he’d set me up to take the fall for ordering substandard parts. His message to her and me was to go into hiding because there would be an investigation that could send a lot of people to jail.”