A Season for Tending (11 page)

“No, of course not.”

“Then you’re suggesting I stay completely silent about it?” His brows were furrowed as he searched her eyes, giving her a brief window to clarify herself.

Feeling flustered, she shook her head. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what?” He shrugged his shoulders, teetering on the verge of frustration. “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

It was hard to believe that moments ago they were pleasantly chatting about orchards and vines. “Just show some compassion toward a young woman who has no sense of her value.”

“If she’d behave, she’d like herself. And if I don’t do something to make her settle down, she could regret that I didn’t take a stand, that I didn’t holler ‘fire’ when she needed me to. I have no choice but to speak harshly to her.”

“There is no need for being mean. I did something once that was more stupid than Leah could ever imagine.”

His eyes held concern. If she didn’t explain quickly, he’d likely assume the
worst. “I didn’t drink or smoke or stay out partying all night. But if it weren’t for the loving words and kindness of my family, my wrongdoing would’ve grown into something far worse.”

He scoffed. “What could be worse—murder?”

Her heart shuddered as he tossed out the word so lightly. He couldn’t possibly understand the ugliness of it. But he’d likely find it easy to judge whoever was to blame for such a horrid act. “You’re missing the point.” Her voice held an edge to it, and she drew a breath. “She needs to know that you see value in her and that you truly love her.”

“My sister knows that. And she knows right from wrong. What she doesn’t know is how to control her impulses, and I intend for her to figure that out. While I don’t see that it’s any of your business, if you think I’m not
valuing
her enough, perhaps you should stick to nurturing plants.”

Rhoda’s skin burned with indignation. Afraid that if she stayed another moment she’d say something she would later regret, she headed for the cellar door.

NINE

Samuel’s head throbbed as Rhoda fled up the cellar stairs. He couldn’t remember when he’d been so frustrated by a woman, unless it was Leah. At one point they talked like neighbors who had a common interest in an upcoming harvest. The next thing he knew he was trying to reason with someone as stubborn as Leah.

That was just what his rebellious sister didn’t need, a sympathizer. It’d be like tossing a rock to a drowning man. His sister’s lack of respect for others was infuriating, and it had put him in an overwhelmingly embarrassing situation.

He did value Leah. He valued who she could become if she ever stopped thinking like a worldly, self-centered teen.

Rhoda’s inaccurate evaluation of Leah aside, her husbandry skills were fascinating. She was connected to her berry patch in an odd way that he’d like to understand better.

The sweetness of strawberry jam laced with the aroma of freshly picked blueberries washed over him. He caught hints of tart blackberries. He pulled a jar off a shelf and read its label—Rhode Side Stands. He caught the play on words, but did she sell her products to a lot of roadside stands? He set the jar back on the shelf, agitated with the jumble of thoughts she’d stirred.

His sister’s voice disrupted his thoughts, and he went up the stairs. Rhoda stood beside the carriage, putting a basket of canned goods and fresh fruit on the floorboard. How was he supposed to discourage Leah’s poor choices if Rhoda kept rewarding her for unacceptable behavior?

“You’re ready, then?” he asked.

Leah jolted at the sound of his voice, and she nodded without even looking at him. He was sure that Leah’s reaction made Rhoda think he beat his sister
or something, but right now he didn’t have it in him to put on a front and be gracious and polite. He just wanted to go home.

“I appreciate your hospitality.” He pulled his billfold out of his pocket. “I’d like to pay for what she’s eaten and—”

“Don’t be silly. Your kindness to her is all I request.”

She wanted a promise that he and his family would be gentle and encouraging with Leah? That was none of her business. He shoved his billfold back into his pants. “Would you like us to join hands while we sing her praises?” He untied the horse from the hitching post and got into his rig.

Leah got in on the other side.

The driveway was typical for the Amish, large enough to turn a rig around in.

“Leah.” He sounded like a gruff old man, but his sister’s actions gave him little choice. “Do you have any idea how many people you’ve inconvenienced?” He tapped the reins against the horse’s back and pulled onto the road. “Rhoda, me, and even Craig. He’s Uncle Mervin’s carpenter and driver, not our personal chauffeur. I’m grateful he could leave his work to help us out and at least get me to Lancaster. But I shouldn’t have to interrupt his day, period. It’s ridiculous.”

“It’s not that big of a deal, but I’ll apologize when I see him.”

“And Rhoda. What were you thinking, pulling a stranger into your ridiculous behavior?”

“I’m sorry, Samuel. I really am. What else do you want from me?”

He came to a four-way stop and waited his turn. “For starters, I’d like to know why you would stay out all night and wind up sleeping in someone’s garden.”

“Don’t you ever get tired of it all—the chores, the monotony?” She didn’t sound curious about how he felt, only angry to have been born into an Amish home. He’d been born into the same home, same lifestyle, and he had no qualms with it. Actually, when he did think about it, he was grateful.

Samuel held both reins in one hand while he rubbed his forehead, wishing he had something for the throbbing pain. “Work is part of life. What do you want life to be, an endless party? Oh, that’s right. That’s exactly what you want.”

“I want to have some fun, yes.”

He jiggled the reins and clicked his tongue, causing the horse to go through the intersection. “And in order to get what you want, you’re willing to behave in ways that will embarrass your family.”

“Please don’t tell on me.”

“So you don’t care that you’ve been out partying, but you do care whether our parents know? Does the word
hypocrisy
come to mind?”

“You don’t understand! You’ve never understood! Life has always been easy for you. No matter what’s going on, you fit right in. Me? I don’t fit in our family or anywhere—not even with the Englisch!” She burst into sobs, and Samuel wished, not for the first time, that women didn’t cry so easily.

If he could only figure out a way to get through to her, he’d be willing to drive the rig around and spar with her all day, all year. Maybe he was going about this wrong. “Leah,” he said softly, hoping to calm her, “you do know that we love you, every one of us, right?”

She studied him. “What on earth would make you say that?” She wiped her tears. “You, Daed, Mamm—the whole family just tolerates me at best.”

“That’s not true. You’re being ridiculous.” But he wondered what she truly believed. “Did you go to that party with Michael?”

She rubbed at the berry stains on her fingertips. “No.”

“Then who took you to Morgansville?”

“I rode with someone you don’t know. His name is Brad, and the party was at his house.”

He didn’t know Brad, but he knew his kind well enough. “And what do you think his purpose is in picking up Amish girls to take to a party? Let me explain it. He and his buddies used up all the girls from their own pool—schools and colleges and churches—all the ones who didn’t mind being used. And then he and his friends went looking for less used ones, and you raised your hand, saying, ‘Pick me, pick me.’ ”

“So everything about me disgusts you,” Leah whispered. “That’s not surprising.”

Samuel had lost this round. In fact, he couldn’t remember when he’d won one. Was taking a hard stance the best way to help her see the path she was on? “I’ll make a deal with you.”

“About not telling our parents?”

“Ya. You’re not to go to any more Englisch parties for at least four weeks.” He hoped in that span of time something would get the desire out of her system. He wished he could insist on longer, but he didn’t have that much leverage. If he pushed too hard, she would refuse his deal. After all, if she faced their parents’ wrath, they’d only ground her for two or three weeks, giving her grace because of her rumschpringe. “In exchange for that, when Mamm and Daed ask why you didn’t stay with our cousin last night like you were supposed to, I’ll tell them you slept at Rhoda’s and then helped her today, which, as I understand it, is true.”

“It is.”

He hated covering for her, but he’d hid some things during his own teen years—watching movies, playing video games, listening to music.

His words drew a hesitant smile from his little sister. “Deal.”

“I think you owe it to Rhoda to return and spend a day helping her.”

“No way. She works long, hot hours in the sun, bent over in her garden.”

“Grow up, Leah. Work equals food, clothing, and shelter. Did you eat this morning?”

“Ya, just a tiny bit.”

“Are those your clothes?”

She shook her head.

“Then you held out your hand for two things she had to work for. They didn’t just float down to her from heaven like manna.”

She crossed her arms, looking as sullen as a five-year-old and clearly unwilling to say anything else.

Rhoda wanted him to accept Leah’s behavior and attitude, but he wanted to ask Rhoda the same question Christian had asked Catherine: What planet do you live on?

TEN

Catherine grabbed a couple of kitchen towels to protect her hands and pulled the hot pan out of the oven. The delicious aroma of sugar-sweetened blueberries wafted in the steam as she set the pie on the counter.

Creaking stairs signaled that Arlan was finally on his way down to breakfast, despite it being past noon. Mamm was in her vegetable garden, weeding, as she had been since around sunup. Daed had gone to a neighbor’s house early that morning to help clear out furniture and set up the benches for church services to be held there tomorrow.

While baking this morning, Catherine had daydreamed of marching up the steps and banging on her brother’s door, demanding he tell her what he was doing at the music store. But it wasn’t like her to be confrontational, so she held on to her questions until she saw him.

He walked into the kitchen, freshly scrubbed and his well-combed hair almost dripping with water. He had on some shiny athletic shorts and an unbuttoned shirt with nothing under it. “Morning.”

“Afternoon is more like it.”

He glanced at the clock. “Afternoon.” His tone was just as chipper as before. He understood nothing. Less than nothing.

“Where did you go last night?”

“Out. And you?”

“I’ve been worried sick.”

He raised one eyebrow, a slight smile making him look wary. “If you’re going to get all emotional, take it elsewhere.”

“You think this is funny?” She fought to stay calm. “Mamm and Daed were humiliated once because of you. I thought you’d changed.”

“I did, and then I changed back again.” He opened the refrigerator and grabbed a jug of juice. “Look, I don’t want to hurt anyone, but I’ve decided I’m not giving up music.”

“Did you buy another instrument?”

“No.” He opened the cabinet and took down a glass.

“Good. That’s a start, because—”

“Not so fast, Sis.” He poured some juice. “The store didn’t have anything in the price range I was looking for, but they’re getting a shipment in a few weeks. Besides, I couldn’t make myself plunk down money on a guitar Leah hadn’t listened to first. She can tell a cheap-sounding one with a few strums, even in a store with lousy acoustics. I can’t. It’s like a gift of hers.”

Arlan and Leah were friends, nothing more. That used to give Catherine a good measure of relief, but when she realized that he hung on every word Leah said, it pretty much canceled all comfort of their being
only friends
.

He gulped down some juice. “Did you know she has an ear for music like that, able to hear the right key?”

“No, and if you were walking according to the Ordnung, you wouldn’t know it either.”