For Every Season (27 page)

Jacob tore tiny bits of paper off the straw he hadn’t used. “I was still away when the downturn began, but I’d call home, and my Mamm would fill me in on what was happening. My parents had two incomes: the orchard and a small dairy farm. My Daed sells organic milk to an Englisch guy who turns it into yogurt and stuff. Even the demand for organic milk dropped drastically, and you know what the orchard situation has been. My Daed’s passionate about supporting mission projects and giving within the Amish community wherever there is a need, but for a while every penny earned was needed to keep the family fed and clothed.”

She folded her arms on the table and leaned in. “You’ll explain it to me one day? All of it?”

“I guess. If you care to hear about it.”

“I do. In my home if you want to know anything about the men’s world, you have to wear pants.”

“You need me to loan you a pair?”

She laughed. “I’m serious. What happened that my community was trapped between the worst of both worlds—Englisch and Amish?”

“The worst of both worlds?”

“We did without modern conveniences, like all Old Order Amish, and once we got caught in the recession, we did without money, like the Englisch world.”

“That is the worst of both, isn’t it?”

“I have a brother who calls our group the Englisch Amish.” She shrugged, making a face. “He thinks it’s funny, but the reality of living that way was we were no better off during the downturn than our less self-sufficient neighbors.”

“Before you were born, the men had to change how they made a living in order to survive. Maybe you’re being a little tough on them about that. Before I was born, my uncle never accepted a construction job that kept him from returning home at night. But by the time I worked with him, we traveled wherever the best jobs were, staying for weeks at a time. Some of the men’s wives
went also, to do the cooking and laundry, keeping down the cost of working out of state. It was a good, economical way to do things.”

She raised an eyebrow. “More than just saving money, I’m sure the wives on those trips eased the other wives’ concerns about what their menfolk were up to while they were away.”

The subject of husbands and wives felt strangely intimate, and Jacob wanted to change the subject. “So, Iva, what do you think of Samuel?” He turned his glass around, fidgeting. Was that too obvious?

“He’s nice. I couldn’t ask for better people to live with.”

“I’m glad you feel that way. But I meant, well, do you feel anything for him?”

“If you’re trying to nudge him toward someone, he’s not ready.”

Jacob’s heart skipped a beat. Did she know about Samuel and Rhoda’s … incident? “What do you mean?”

“His grief is deeper than Leon’s by a lot. That’s what I mean.”

“The man your dad wanted you to marry?”

“I know Leon loves me … or loved me before I disappeared, but his grief for the wife he lost two years ago is so thick it steals all the air from the room. I’m not interested in being someone’s oxygen machine so he feels as if he can breathe again. What about me? I need to breathe too.”

He took a long sip of his water. She could see that in Samuel? Jacob hadn’t seen it. Had Rhoda? “How can you be so sure?”

“I just am. Once someone who’s drowning in grief has courted you, it’s easy to recognize that kind of pain when you see it again. Leah said he had a girlfriend in Pennsylvania.”

“Yeah, but that was a long time ago, and he’s the one who broke up with her.”

“Why?”

“I’m not sure, other than he lost interest in …” As Jacob added up all he knew, it dawned on him that Samuel wasn’t just a little infatuated with Rhoda. He hadn’t just been lonely. His brother
loved
her—apparently since before they left Pennsylvania.

Jacob wanted to grab Iva’s arm and drag her to Landon’s truck. But he’d promised they’d go on some rides, and he would honor that. Then they’d drive for a couple of hours before finally being at the farm.

But he wanted to be there now!

If Rhoda was aware of how his brother felt, she was hiding it from Jacob. Would she do that?

Surely not. Then again, by her own admittance the two were close.

His heart cried out, a slow screaming pain that wasn’t going to end, not if his worst fears were true.

Regardless of believing, of knowing that Rhoda was faithful to him and loved him, one thought pounded inside him above all the others. Was she in love with Samuel?

TWENTY-FIVE

Leah walked along the shores of Unity Pond. What a lovely Sunday afternoon. Landon hurled a tennis ball, making Ziggy and Zara run full force in a heated race to retrieve it. She giggled at the dogs’ competitive nature, and Landon smiled at her. It was still cold, but the freezing temperatures had passed. The weather forecasts indicated no more crop-damaging cold snaps for the rest of the month. A light wind played with the bright sunshine on the water, and the afternoon rays kept them warm inside their coats.

“It’s beautiful out here.” Leah turned, taking in the scenery. Blue water wavered and shimmied as a variety of evergreens stood proudly in patches.

“I thought you might like it.” He turned back to Ziggy and pulled the ball out of the dog’s playfully growling mouth. “After these last few days, I knew you could use an afternoon away from the orchard.”

Leah held tight to the driver’s manual in her pocket, too embarrassed to pull it out and ask if he’d study it with her. What if doing so made her look like an idiot to him? “It’s a little early to tell, but Samuel thinks we’ll lose less than ten percent.”

“I heard.” He wrestled the ball from Zara’s mouth this time, a rare win for the meeker dog. “Anything else bothering you?”

Her heart jumped. Could he read her that easily?

He tossed the ball. “The girl I know never holds back. She’s too sassy and talkative.”

She released a sigh and pulled the manual out of her pocket. “It’s like reading German, and like German, I should be better at it than I am.”

“Is that all?” He smiled. “After all your questions the other night, I thought you were going to say you’d decided to stay Amish.”

“What? You should know better.”

“Should I?” He took the manual from her. “I seem to know precious little when it comes to figuring you out.”

She thought about it and nodded. “You are rather lost, aren’t you?”

“All the time. You asked my opinion, but later you didn’t seem to want it.”

“For a clueless man, you pick up on a lot of clues.”

“Ah, so I’m right?”

She nodded. “I’m not ready to have my opinion swayed by anyone else’s reasoning. You know that.”

“I do, but I wasn’t going to give
my
opinion.”

“You weren’t?” Her heart beat faster with excitement. “Whose opinions were you going to give me?”

“No one’s. I was going to suggest better questions to ponder.”

Did she need
more
questions pounding around inside her brain?

Landon gestured. “Hey, look. A moose.”

Across the glimmering water on a hillside, a large animal approached the pond. It lowered its massive head and began to drink.

Leah’s worry faded into excitement for a minute, and she almost squealed. She’d never seen a moose before, and as silly as it seemed, it was fascinating to know that some peculiar creatures actually existed outside of her books. Should a moose be considered odd?

She squinted and tried to imagine the creature next to a horse. “How much do you suppose he weighs?”

“Dunno, but I think they get pretty big.” He leaned down and grabbed the dogs by their collars before they noticed the moose.

“You don’t suppose we could put the dogs in your granny’s car and try to pet him, do you?” Leah started down one of the trails that led around the pond.

“Definitely not. We shouldn’t even try to get close. They’re wild animals.” Landon stood, holding the dogs by the collar. “You’re not going to make me chase you to get you to come back this way, are you?”

She paused. “I suppose the answer should be no.”

“You think? I read somewhere that there are more moose attacks per year than bear, lion, and tiger attacks combined, most likely because people—like
you
—forget they’re wild animals.”

“Oh.” She watched as the creature finished drinking and trotted back into the woodland.

Landon laughed. “These dogs never took their eyes off the ball.”

“We’d better hide all the balls when they’re supposed to be watching the orchard for deer.”

He chuckled. “I agree.” He patted Zara. “It’s nice to see little Zara come out of her shell a bit. She’s always so timid when there’s no ball involved.” Landon threw the ball again, this time with a much slower pair of dogs chasing after it.

“Landon …” She circled her shoe in the dirt. Now that she knew he had questions he thought she should be asking herself, she had to know what they were. “Can we talk about what you were going to say the other night?”

“Sure, if you want to know.”

“I think I do.”

“Seems to me you’re asking yourself all the wrong questions: Is the Ordnung right? Is it wrong? Can I make myself leave the Amish? Will I be happier if I stay or if I go? I think you should ask things like, what do I really want to do with my life? Do I want to be a wife and mom and full-time homemaker? Do I want an education? Do I want to learn music? Usually parents open up all those possibilities to children while raising them. Yours didn’t. But when you know yourself, you’ll know how you want to live. There’s nothing wrong with having a limited education if that’s who you are. And there’s nothing wrong with attending college—if that’s who you are.”

She wanted to hug him. He’d nailed what was holding her back—knowing herself. The questions shouldn’t be about whether she could make herself leave. All her ponderings had been on the negative. The real answer would be found in the positive: What did she really want out of life?

“I know one thing I want for sure.”

“Shoot.”

“I want us to be friends for the rest of our lives.”

Landon’s smile was weak at best. “Okay. It might be a little tough to steer to that kind of relationship, but if we don’t give up, we can do it.”

He was such a strange bird, so open and honest with her. She used to believe all Englisch teens and young people were the coolest, but she also believed they were selfish sinners who didn’t understand anything about God, family, and friendship the way the Amish did.

What an arrogant girl she’d been, even while looking down on herself because of her lack of education and her family being farmers. And even while drinking and sleeping with Michael, she’d thought she was more pure than the other girls who were doing the same thing.

Strange, really. And embarrassing.

It struck her that she’d been a hypocrite, rationalizing why she was better than the very people she was acting like.

But why was she thinking about that now?

Then she knew. If she was going to figure out what she wanted from life, she had to understand how and why she thought as she did.

The more she understood herself, the more she’d know what she really wanted from life.

Iva turned on the blinker and steered Landon’s truck onto the road toward home. They were almost back at the farm, and she felt rather pleased with herself—and even more relieved. “Whew. We’re back safe and sound.”

“Did you doubt we’d arrive okay?” Jacob stared out the window. He’d seemed distracted ever since their conversation at the restaurant.

“I had my moments … or hours or days of doubt, yes.” She stopped at a four-way sign. “In a couple of years of driving a car, I’d never covered one-fourth the distance of the last four days.”

“Lots of guys get their license, but you’re the first Amish girl I’ve known to get one. Did you own a vehicle?”

“I did.”

“Impressive. Did you pay for it yourself?”

“Yeah. From the time I graduated at twelve until I was seventeen, I scrubbed a lot of floors and toilets and did way too much baby-sitting for Englisch neighbors. I’d hoped to drive to all sorts of places and take pictures—not far but farther than a rig could go. Then after I paid for it and insurance, I didn’t have enough money for gas to go much of anywhere. Ain’t that the way?”

He glanced at her. “Sometimes it is.”

Iva wasn’t sure why she was trying to keep him engaged in conversation, but she hoped it was helping or, at the least, he didn’t mind. “It wasn’t much of a car. Nothing like this truck. So I needed to stay fairly close to home anyway. It was a hand-me-down from a long line of Amish who’d owned it before each one joined the faith.”

“I’ve seen that happen many times. Is that why you gave it up?”

“No. Look at me.” She gestured at her Englisch clothes. “I haven’t joined the faith yet. If I had, I wouldn’t be driving now.”

“Makes sense. What made you give up driving?”

“My car came up missing. Do you know how hard it is to drive a vehicle that isn’t there?”

“Missing?” The distant look faded from his green eyes, and she had his full attention.

She tapped the steering wheel with her thumbs. “My dad needed the cash, and when I was at a baby-sitting job, he sold my car.”