Authors: Marta Perry

Rachel's Garden (15 page)

BOOK: Rachel's Garden

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A shadow dimmed her face on the words, and he knew she was thinking about her brother.

“How is Johnny?” He wouldn’t let her feel that she had to be wary of discussing John with him. “Have you seen him lately?”

“Not for a while. He came over one night to help me with the tax forms.”

That seemed to make the shadows deepen in her face, unfortunately. He took another tray and began to fill it with the contents of the windowsill above the sink. “He’s well?”

“Ja.” She sighed. The children’s voices echoed from the living room as they apparently divided up the plants to carry out. “He was unhappy with me because I wouldn’t take money from him. I wish he’d understand about that.”

Gideon nodded. “Not so easy to balance between him and your daad, I guess.”

“They’re both too stubborn.” Her mouth set.

“That trait didn’t pass you by, either, I think.”

Her gaze met his, startled. “I’m not stubborn.” A faint color came up in her cheeks, and she focused on the plants. “Well, only about some things.”

Some things that included him, he suspected.

“These are ready,” he said, as the children marched through the kitchen, each carrying a share of the plants. Mary had one grasped in each chubby fist, and she frowned as if daring them to fall. “I’ll hold the door.”

Coming along behind Rachel and her children as they crossed the lawn to the greenhouse, he felt a sense of—what was it? Belonging?

Not that, maybe, but as if for this moment, anyway, he could share in their happiness. He’d fulfilled his promise to Ezra, and he’d made things a little better for Rachel and the young ones. That should be enough for him.

Just ahead of him, Mary reached the very entrance to the greenhouse before she stumbled, the plants waving wildly as she tried to save them. Balancing his tray with one hand, Gideon scooped her up with the other, setting her on her feet before she lost her cargo.

Mary tilted her face up toward his, leaning against him confidingly. “Denke, Gideon,” she whispered.

The small warm body in his grasp seemed to set something echoing through him, as if the door of his heart, long since closed, creaked ajar. First Joseph and now Mary, making him feel again.

No. He could not let that happen. He would help them, would try to do what he could for Ezra’s sake, but he could not let himself care. His faith would never survive another loss, and the only way to prevent the pain was not to risk his heart again.

He set his mind to helping them arrange the plants on the plank tables he’d built for the greenhouse. The children, enthusiastic at first, lost interest quickly, and Rachel sent them off to the kitchen, putting Becky in charge of getting them a snack.

It soon became clear that Rachel had her own definite opinions as to what should go where. Her face wore a serene expression as her hands busied themselves with her plants. She’d forgotten he was there. He had no gut reason to stay longer, so he began gathering up his tools.

“Ach, let me help you get your things together.” Rachel shook her head. “Forgive me. I’m so eager to work on my plants that I haven’t even told you how much I appreciate your kindness.”

“Not necessary.” He opened the lid of his toolbox. “Seeing your pleasure in the greenhouse is thanks enough.”

“My last gift from Ezra.” Her voice had grown soft. “It would have been treasured, whatever it was, but especially so since the greenhouse will help me support the children.”

“You’ll be going back to market again?”

“Ja. And this time with many more plants to sell, thanks to your help.”

He shook his head. “I told you—”

She put her hand on his arm, the touch of it startling him into silence.

“I know. You did it because you promised Ezra. But I can still appreciate your actions, can’t I?” Color flooded her cheeks. “Especially after the way I behaved that first day you brought it up. I’m still embarrassed to think about that.”

“That’s of no matter,” he said carefully, wary of trying to press too far into her confidence. “Then, you couldn’t see me without being reminded of Ezra’s passing. It was only natural for you to blame me.”

“I didn’t. I don’t. I know the accident wasn’t your fault.” She lifted her face to his, and she was so near he could almost feel her breath on his skin as she spoke. “You must accept that, too, Gideon. It would not be right to blame yourself for something that was in the hands of God.”

She was too close, and he was far too aware of her. But he couldn’t bring himself to move away.

Maybe she felt that, too. Her breath seemed to quicken, her eyes to widen.

And then suddenly she was looking down at the toolbox, as if searching for something to distract her. Or him.

“Is this a design for one of the windmills you’ll be building this summer?” She touched the sketch he had tucked into the lid of the toolbox.

“Not exactly.” He forced himself to focus on the paper, instead of on the curve of her cheek. He spread it flat. “I was playing around with an idea for a model windmill—something that folks might want to buy to put in their garden. It was just a thought I had when I was laid up. Don’t suppose it amounts to much.”

“Don’t say that. I think it’s a wonderful-gut idea. Think of all the ornaments the English like to put on their lawns and in their flower beds. I bet you could sell those easy. When are you going to make one?”

He folded the sketch and tucked it back into the box. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll make some when I get time, if you’ll sell them along with your plants. That would be a gut deal.”

He was only joking, of course. But he’d like it fine if he could make it come true.

Rachel
tucked another marigold seedling into its own peat pot. The seedlings should be a nice size by the time frost danger was past. She stood back a little from the trestle table, admiring the lineup of plants. Ser gut. She’d have plenty to sell when the time came.

Picking up a water bottle, she began spraying the seedlings with a fine mist. Only a day had passed since the greenhouse was completed, and already it felt as familiar to her as her own bedroom.

Not only that—it had given her courage, it seemed. She’d asked William to help prepare an addition to the garden for some more ambitious plantings. Lavender would be simple to grow, and folks liked that. She’d put in a variety of small shrubs, maybe even some dogwood trees if she could afford them. She could get young plants cheap and bring them along until they were ready for sale.

Thanks to Ezra’s gift, she had hope for the future. She and the children didn’t need much, after all—just enough added income to make up for the portion of the milk money that went to Isaac. She wouldn’t have to sell, and the children would have the security that went with a gut farm.

Thanks to Gideon, as well. She couldn’t forget that. If he hadn’t made her dream about the greenhouse again, with his insistence on fulfilling his promise to Ezra, she might never have pursued it.

Gideon had become close to them in the past few weeks—closer than she’d have imagined possible. Her hands stilled on the sprayer.

Forgive me, Father, for my attitude toward Gideon. I’m trying to do better. Please help me.

A shadow fell across the tray of seedlings in front of her. She looked up, startled, to find Isaac standing there, staring in through the glass at her.

Her stomach tightened even as she smiled at him. In her enthusiasm, she had forgotten that Isaac had his own idea of what should happen to the farm.

She put the sprayer back on its shelf and took a last look around the greenhouse, soaking in its peace. Then she opened the door and stepped outside.

Isaac’s expression didn’t give anything away as he surveyed the completed greenhouse, but that very lack of expression told her he wasn’t pleased.

“See Gideon got it finished at last.” He tapped on the framing around the door.

“Ja, just yesterday. It turned out nice, I think. I’m very grateful to him.”

He peered through the glass at her tables, his forehead creasing in a frown. “You got a mighty big lot of plants in there. More than you can use yourself, I’d guess.”

“They’re to sell,” she said, schooling her voice to patience. “I’ll take them to the farmer’s market, alongside Aaron and Lovina’s things.”

He grunted a response that might have meant anything and turned away from the greenhouse. He seemed to transfer his gaze to her newly plowed garden. “William told me you’re talking about putting in a bunch of new things this year, bushes and whatnot.”

This was what bothered him, she could see. She should have realized that he’d disapprove of those plans. The greenhouse he could rationalize moving to a new location, but if she started something bigger, like an actual nursery garden, he’d know she was determined to stay put.

“I’m hoping to grow enough to make a little income from it. For the children, you know.”

“Is this your idea? Or did Gideon Zook come up with it?”

She blinked at the hardness of his tone. “Mine. Well, I did talk to Gideon about it, maybe.”

“It seems to me you’d want to talk to family about this idea first, instead of an outsider.”

“Gideon isn’t an outsider.”

“Not English, no, but he’s not a member of your family, either. Just because he was Ezra’s friend doesn’t give him the right to interfere.”

“He’s not—” She stopped herself. The only way to deal with Isaac in this mood was to be patient with him. And he was right, in a sense. It would have been proper to discuss it with Isaac ahead of time. “I’m sorry I didn’t talk with you about it first. I’m sure you’d have had some gut advice for me about what to plant.”

“There’s no reason for you to be planting anything. I told you that. Caleb will be glad to take over the farm, and then you won’t have to worry about such things.”

So this wasn’t about her failure to talk to the family about her plans. It was about
his
plans—his plans to wipe out Ezra’s dreams as if they’d never existed.

She actually felt a flicker of anger. She’d deferred to her father and to Ezra when it was needful. They’d had the right to be concerned with what she did, and they’d always wanted the best for her.

But Isaac—it seemed that Isaac wanted what was best for him and for Caleb.

She took a deep breath, quenching the anger before it could grow into a flame. Impossible to come to an actual breach with Isaac. He was family, he was one of the brethren, and she counted on his help.

But it was equally impossible just to cave in to him.

Please, Father. Give me the right words.

“I know you feel it’s for the best that Caleb takes over the farm,” she said carefully “But I’m not sure that’s what Ezra would want me to do. Isn’t it my duty to carry out what I believe are his wishes in the matter?”

For a long moment Isaac just stared at her, as if he were measuring the extent of her stubbornness. Then he shrugged.

“Maybe you’re right, but maybe not. I guess we can’t say for certain, since Ezra is not here to speak for himself. But I do know he wouldn’t want you to start in on something risky without thinking it through.”

“What is risky about putting in a few more plants and shrubs? I’m able to take care of them, and the older children are big enough to help me.”

“It would be risky if you invested money in them and didn’t have enough water to keep them going over the summer.”

She blinked. It took a moment to understand his meaning, and then her hands tightened into fists that pressed against her skirt. “Why would I not have enough water?” If he was going to threaten her, he’d better come right out with it.

“When your well has run low in the past, our spring has always had plenty of water to share.” He hesitated, and she thought he was wondering just how far he wanted to go. Then his face tightened. “Could be that this summer we’ll need all that we have.”

“I see.” She stared at him steadily, and his gaze shifted away from hers.

“Think about it.” He turned away, his movements jerky “I’m sure you’ll see that my plan is best for everyone.”

He walked away, leaving her fighting down unaccustomed anger.

I’m sorry, Lord. I must not be angry with a brother. But what am I to do?

“Ach
, they’re having a gut game, they are.” Lovina Zook leaned back in the lawn chair she had dragged over to the edge of the field at the Zook farm.

“They are that.” Rachel relaxed in the seat next to her.

Lovina and Aaron had invited her to come to supper and bring the children. She’d thought perhaps Lovina wanted to talk about plans for market, but so far Lovina seemed more concerned with making sure everyone had enough to eat. Their four boys and three girls made for a hungry, cheerful group around the supper table, especially with her three added.

And Gideon, of course.

His presence was only natural, since he lived here and had his shop in an old barn on his brother’s farm. He and Aaron had organized an after-supper ball game.

At the moment Gideon was pitching, sending an easy ball toward Becky. Aaron seemed to be coaching her on how to hold the bat.

“I hear tell when the English play ball, there’s lots of yelling and cheering, even loud teasing.” Lovina smiled fondly at her brood. “Sounds funny, ain’t so?”

“Maybe they’d think we’re funny,” Rachel suggested. “Playing a game so quiet-like.” The more she saw of the outside world, the more she realized how strange Amish ways would be to them.

“There’s no need to make a lot of ruckus to have a gut time. I’d say Aaron and Gideon enjoy it as much as the children.”

“Ja. It’s nice to see how well your family works and plays together. You and Aaron must be doing a fine job, with raising seven of them.”

The bat cracked, and they both leaned forward to watch Becky race for first base, apron fluttering, a huge grin on her face.

BOOK: Rachel's Garden

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