For Every Season (43 page)

Authors: Cindy Woodsmall

BOOK: For Every Season

4.74Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

Rhoda had tears now, and Samuel’s heart ached for her.

Jacob squeezed her hand. “It has to be this way. We tried, Rhodes. We really did.” His voice cracked, and it was several minutes before he spoke again. “You don’t actually need me here to finish the kitchen. Uncle Mervin can send a master carpenter, and his men can take a few extra days to do my part.” Jacob cleared his throat. “Because I gotta get away from here.”

Rhoda covered her face with one hand, sobbing, but she nodded.

“My sweet Rhodes.” Jacob got off the rock and helped her down before he pulled her into a hug. “She’s incredibly stubborn.” Jacob wiped at his eyes. “Good luck with that. I think I’ll go look for someone a little less interested in work and a lot more prone to think I’m the best thing since the apple was no longer a forbidden fruit.”

As Jacob walked off, Samuel expected Rhoda to run after him, confessing her love. But she leaned against the rock, staying right there, her face covered with one hand.

“Jacob.” Samuel strode toward him, unsure what he’d say when he got there.

Jacob clasped his shoulder. “She loves you. I know that, but I doubt she will fall into your arms any time soon.” He studied her. “Serves you right. I could be married and have two children before she lets go of her guilt and her
sense of propriety.” He smiled. “If that’s not true, it certainly helps me feel better thinking it is. And when you get angry, go easy, okay? She’s just a young woman doing her best, and she’s more fragile than you think.”

Jacob saw her as delicate as a flowery herb while Samuel saw her as strong as the newly built harvest kitchen. He realized that both were true.

Samuel struggled to find his voice. “You’re the best of the King brothers.”

“In the words of Landon,
I know, right?
” He kicked at a patch of decaying leaves. “But you two were meant to be. All of us were blessed as God moved us around to get you two where you had to be and to keep you connected until love bloomed. She needs someone who doesn’t mind arguing with her. And for the pain I’m experiencing from the breakup”—he tapped his chest—“I’m free to pick up my tool belt, pack my bags, and go build houses. I’ll soon be free to be in Sandra and Casey’s lives. I needed Rhoda to motivate me to face my past … and now my future.”

Jacob was no longer one to run or hide from the truth. He’d learned to face it, deal with the fallout, and move on.

Samuel put his hand on Jacob’s shoulder, hesitant to embrace him, but he wanted to. Jacob took the lead and hugged him. Each of them was sniffing when they parted.

Samuel stood in the shady woods, too shocked to absorb what was happening. It might take days. Maybe weeks.

“When, Jacob?” Rhoda trudged through the woods toward them, still wiping at tears.

“Within the hour.”

She nodded. “Can we go to the house together?”

“I’ve never said no to you yet.”

She and Jacob started walking. She turned. “Kumm.”

Samuel followed.

Her heart was as heavy as his. He could see it in her movements, but maybe she needed to stay active right now.

Would she stay in motion, moving away from him for years to come?

However long it took to find healing, he’d be grateful that the three of
them would navigate through the time without losing themselves or each other—although he doubted if they would see Jacob much, not for a few years.

The three walked in silence.

In heartbreak.

In forgiveness.

In unity.

FORTY

Iva stood on the driveway near Landon’s truck, surrounded by the Kings and Bylers. She couldn’t believe what was happening. Jacob was leaving? Rhoda was staying?

Did they realize what this meant? Kings’ Orchard wouldn’t need her. When her Daed caught wind of this, would he insist she return home?

Jacob had promised to help her, and he had. But his leaving undid all that had been set right. Unfortunately for her, Jacob was clearly too upset to think about her future or the promises he’d made.

Leah hugged her brother. “When will we see you again?”

“I’m not disappearing. I’ll be in Lancaster, near Uncle Mervin. At least for a year or so. And I’ll be home for Christmas. If you get to Harvest Mills for the holiday, I’ll see you then.”

Leah nodded. “I feel bad for the selfish things I said.”

Iva could hear Leah’s guilt for challenging Jacob when he told everyone Rhoda and he would be leaving Orchard Bend.

Jacob squeezed her tight. “Don’t you ever feel guilty for speaking the truth. Not ever.” He released her and turned to Iva. “Samuel will have my address. You can forward Sandra’s letters, and after the trials are over, you can let me know where she is.”

Iva swallowed hard. She’d like a hug too. But she didn’t budge from her spot. “I will.”

He looked sad, but she thought she detected a little relief, similar to what she’d seen in his eyes after he’d given his deposition.

Steven shook his hand. “Keep up with your instruction classes.”

“Ya.” Jacob turned and hugged Phoebe. “Take care of those little ones.”

Iva wanted to scream,
What about me? Does anyone realize what this is doing to me?

Steven caught Iva’s eye, and he nodded, an assuring nod. He then put his arm around Phoebe and whispered something to her. She turned to Iva too, giving a reassuring wink.

At least Steven remembered what was at stake for her, and he was now a church leader. But he wasn’t willing to go outside the Amish ways like Jacob was.

Could Steven keep her Daed from pulling her home?

Rhoda felt detached from her body. Her life seemed disconnected from reality. Was this really happening?

Despite the heartache and disbelief, she also sensed an unusual peace circling within. She watched as Jacob climbed into the passenger’s seat of Landon’s truck. He propped his arm in the open window and held up his hand, waving a final good-bye only to her.

Her heart shattered. Jacob then turned and never looked back as the truck drove off, quickly disappearing over a hill.

It was done.

There was no turning back.

She stood there, feeling lost and traumatized. The group slowly dispersed, all except Samuel. He stood several feet away, looking as wounded as Jacob and she.

Rhoda took a deep breath and dried her tears. There was a room in the house for her again, but she couldn’t sleep in what had been Jacob’s room. Grief was exhausting, and she longed to crawl into bed until late tomorrow. And for now, her bed was at Camilla’s.

She wished she had a divine clue to share with Camilla. “I’m going home.”

Samuel nodded. As she passed him, she paused, facing him. She had no words, and apparently he didn’t either. They just stood there. Numb. In shared agony.

How could a person feel both at once?

He rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes misty. “All I can think to say are things I’ve said too many times already: I’m sorry, and are you okay?”

She didn’t know how to answer him, so she didn’t. She’d heard Jacob tell Samuel that they were meant to be together. Did Jacob really believe that, or was he trying to believe it in order to release her?

Peace stirred within her again, like a refreshing breeze before a gentle rain. As she stood there, a thought came to her—an insight. “Samuel, I believe I’ve been thinking about Jojo and Sophia all wrong.”

He seemed relieved to discuss anything other than Jacob’s leaving. There was only so much that could be said. She wished that were true when it came to thoughts and feelings.

He studied her. “How so?”

She and Samuel were here, together. Able to talk. Able to be themselves. She would miss Jacob for a long time, but she was truly grateful to have Samuel fully in her life again.

Rhoda shrugged. “When I know something, I tend to think of it in the negative. Like last winter when I knew the police would find my fingerprints on those bags of marijuana. I thought God was warning me to brace myself, but He was trying to encourage me.”

“I remember.”

Of course he did. He’d been here with her—every step of the way.

She took a cleansing breath, the first in a very long time. “The investigator is looking through women’s shelters for Jojo and Sophia Dumont, right?”

“That’s my understanding.”

“The problem is he’s doing so based on what I told him. But everything I shared was my perception based on Sophia’s point of view. Samuel, she’s a child. When a little girl says she is about to lose her home, what would you think?”

“That things are going from bad to worse.”

“But what if they aren’t? What if she was simply frightened by the changes?”

Tenderness for her reflected on his face, not from a quick friendship of two who barely knew each other, but from a man who knew her as deeply as she did him. “So why were they evicted from the trailer?”

“I don’t know. That’s not important. What is …” Chills ran over her skin. “Music.” She walked toward the edge of the orchard. “That’s why I heard music.”

Samuel strode beside her. “What is why?”

On Rhoda’s first night here, she’d heard music. It ran through her mind even now, and another God clue came to her. “The little girl is a Dumont. She was so adamant about it. But why?” The answer came as quickly as the question. “Because her mother was changing their last name, and Sophia didn’t like it. She was frightened, and the name change wasn’t because of marriage.”

“That’s why the investigator can’t find them. But why would Jojo change their name?”

Rhoda closed her eyes. “I don’t know. But Sophia is gifted in music. Everything Jojo has done has been to protect her daughter.”

“I’m glad it’s clear in your mind, because I’m confused.”

She couldn’t help but smile. “It’s not clear. Not at all. Something dangerous is out there, just out of sight. But we can help find Jojo and Sophia. You and me.”

“That I’m not confused about.” He stared into her eyes. “
We
can do anything God sets before us.”

They stood side by side, looking out over the orchard. The breeze played with the leaves, but as the air glided by, she heard voices—Samuel’s and hers radiating with pure joy.

The orchard seemed to be a metaphor for their lives—a place of seasons, a place of deep roots that had to be nourished, a place that yielded bounties and sometimes very little. This orchard connected Samuel and her.

For a moment she saw the two of them, years from now, standing in this same spot. Love and all its goodness filled them. But she also saw ominous clouds on the horizon, ones with the names of people she loved and with names she couldn’t make out. Even so, she felt God’s strength assuring her that He would guide them.

She folded her arms, watching the orchard. “Ya, I agree.
We
can do anything God sets before us.”

A
PPLE
C
RISP
This is an old family recipe provided
by Aunt Marion Woodsmall
.

8 tart apples, peeled and sliced (Courtland, Macintosh, or your choice)

½ cup orange juice

1 cup sugar, divided in half

½ teaspoon cinnamon

¾ cup all-purpose flour

¼ teaspoon salt

6 tablespoons margarine or butter

Place the sliced apples in an 8” × 8” ungreased pan. Pour the orange juice over the apples. Mix ½ cup sugar and the cinnamon together, and sprinkle over apples. Work the remaining ½ cup sugar, flour, salt, and margarine or butter together using your fingers or a pastry cutter. Mixture should be crumbly, pea size or smaller. Spread over the apples and pat smooth. Bake at 375° for 40–45 minutes until crust is crisp and brown and apples are tender. Serve with milk or cream. Enjoy this very old recipe.