Rachel's Garden (3 page)

She couldn’t go back. She accepted the money and thanked the woman. But she could go forward.

She glanced down the row of booths that had been built for the sale in the field adjoining the township fire house. True to its name, the Mud Sale had turned the field into a sea of mud, with furrows filling with moisture where pickup trucks and buggies had made their way.

Mud Sales were a rite of spring in Pleasant Valley, and probably folks—Amish and English alike—enjoyed them so much because their appearance meant winter was over. People who hadn’t seen much of their neighbors for months were visiting even more than they were buying, it seemed, at the couple of dozen booths that had been set up.

A few booths down, she could see her daadi, buying bags of popcorn for his grandchildren. She could only hope the kinder hadn’t been eating junk food since he’d taken them off her hands an hour ago.

“Rachel, are your plants all gone so soon?” Her mother, who was sharing the booth with Rachel, looked as pleased as if she had just sold all her jams and jellies. “That is wonderful gut, that is.”

“Ja. It makes me feel ...” She paused, searching for the word. “Hopeful, I guess.” Her mood seemed to have flipped around in the week since she’d talked to Gideon.

She studied her mother’s kindly, lined face, knowing every wrinkle had been honestly earned. Mamm’s hair might be snowy white now and her vision starting to fail, but the sweetness in her face would always make her beautiful.

“Mamm, is that the way of grieving? To be weak and doubting one day and then confident and hopeful the next?”

Her mother’s faded blue eyes seemed to be looking at something in the distance. “Ja, you have it right. That’s the way of it.” She patted Rachel’s arm. “It will get better. You’ll see.”

Rachel clasped her mother’s hand in hers. “I’m sorry. I’ve made you think of Johnny, haven’t I?”

A kind of longing crossed Mamm’s face. “I never stop thinking of him, Rachel. Just as I never stop praying that one day I’ll see him again.”

“If Daadi would change his mind—”

Her mother shook her head. “Don’t, Rachel. It’s not your daadi’s fault. He’s only trying to do what’s right. You know that.”

No matter how much it hurt.
Rachel finished the thought for her. Daad held hard to the letter and spirit of the Ordnung, the rules by which the Amish lived. Some might choose to bend the rules, but not Amos Kile.

A customer approached Mamm’s side of the stand, and she moved away quickly, as if relieved to be distracted from thoughts of her only son, gone nearly eleven years now.

It had been hard for Rachel, too—terribly hard—to lose her twin when Johnny deserted his family to go English. Still, even a twin brother wasn’t so close as a husband, and Johnny hadn’t died.

She’d even seen Johnny a number of times in the past year, thanks to Leah’s intervention. Leah understood too well herself the grief of having a beloved sibling go English, since her younger sister, Anna, had jumped the fence.

Rachel leaned against the counter, watching her mother wait on the customer. She should have thought twice before she’d asked her mother that question. With no other children but her and Johnny, the loss of him weighed heavily on her parents.

Daadi hadn’t seemed able to reconcile himself to the truth—Johnny was never going to come back to the church. So he clung to the bann, refusing to see Johnny, even though it hurt him and Mammi more than it did Johnny, busy and happy with his work at the medical research clinic.

Her parents were growing older, more frail it seemed, with each passing month. Daad wanted so badly to help her with the farm since Ezra’s passing, but his health just wasn’t good enough. She knew it was a constant worry to him.

Mamm, having sold three jars of her raspberry jam, came back to her, studying Rachel closely. “You’ve been fratched about something. I can see it in your face. Is it too much for you, trying to keep the farm going?”

She shook her head, suspecting she knew the direction of her mother’s thoughts. “I’m doing all right. William helps a lot.”

“Still—” Mamm put her hand on Rachel’s arm. “Won’t you think about your daadi’s idea? Sell the farm and move home with us. We’d love to have you and the kinder living with us. You know that.”

“I know, Mamm,” she said gently. “I just can’t bring myself to do that. The farm was Ezra’s dream. It’s what he had to leave to his children. How can I let him down?”

Mamm’s eyes clouded with concern. “You can’t run a dairy farm alone. Who knows how long Ezra’s brothers can continue to do so much? If you sold, you’d maybe get enough to start a small business of some kind. Wouldn’t that be better?”

It was tempting, so tempting. To be back under her parents’ roof, having them share the responsibility for the kinder. Being able to lean on them when things got difficult. But—

“I can’t, Mamm. I just can’t make up my mind to that. Not yet, anyway”

But she had to, didn’t she? She had to stop drifting along and make some definite decisions about their future, hers and the children’s.

Isaac and William, Ezra’s brothers, came up to the stand just then, relieving her of the need to keep talking about it, even if she couldn’t dismiss it from her thoughts.

“How are your sales today, Rachel? Gut, I hope.” Isaac, bluff and hearty, his beard almost completely gray now, stopped in front of her counter.

“They’re all gone.” She swept her hand along the empty countertop.

“Gut, gut,” he said, and William nodded in agreement, giving her a shy smile.

The nearly twenty years between the oldest of Ezra’s siblings and the youngest accented the many other differences between them. Isaac was stout and graying, with an assured manner that seemed to have grown since the death of their father had left him the head, as he thought, of the family.

William, just turned eighteen, hung back, shy as always. He had huge brown eyes that reminded Rachel of a frightened deer and blond hair so light it was nearly white. He seemed always on the verge of growing right out of his clothes.

“Are you having a pleasant day at the sale?” The guilt she felt over her uncharitable thoughts toward Isaac made her voice warm with interest.

“Ja. For sure. Made a couple of deals and have a line on someone who has a fine colt for sale.” He gave William a hearty slap on the shoulder. “Maybe I’ll let William train this one.”

Not sure what William felt about that, she could only smile. But for the most part, William did what Isaac said without questioning, as far as she could tell.

“By the way, Rachel, I found a buyer for those greenhouse supplies you’ve got in the barn,” he went on. “You won’t want it now. I’ll come by and pick those materials up on Tuesday.”

For a moment Rachel could only gape at him. Slowly, the temper she rarely felt began to rise. Not only did Isaac assume he knew what she should do—he thought he had the right to make decisions for her.

Forcing down the anger, she managed a smile. “That is kind of you to go to so much trouble. But I don’t wish to sell.”

He blinked. “Not sell?” His voice rose in surprise. “But what will you do with all that lumber and glass?”

“Build a greenhouse.” The words came out almost before she thought what she’d say. She’d been having such difficulty in making decisions, and suddenly she’d made one on the spur of the moment. Yet Isaac had pushed her into this one.

Annoyance flared in Isaac’s face, quickly masked by an air of concern. “Ach, Rachel, don’t be so foolish. The money will be of much more use to you than a greenhouse.”

“Ezra gave it to me for my birthday. I don’t want to sell his gift. I want to use it the way he intended.”

“Ezra would want you to do the sensible thing.” Clearly the sensible thing, according to Isaac, was to listen to him.

The smile was so tight it felt her face would split with it. She shook her head. “I appreciate the trouble you’ve taken, but I’ve made up my mind.”

Temper flared in his eyes, and his fist clenched on the counter. “How do you expect to get a greenhouse built? I don’t have time to do it for you. And you certainly can’t do it yourself.”

“I w-w-want t-t-t—”

William didn’t get any further before Isaac turned on him. “Forget that idea. I need you at the farm. You’ll have no time to indulge this whim of Rachel’s.”

Her teeth gritted at the way Isaac disregarded William’s wishes. Just because it took the boy a long time to say something didn’t mean he couldn’t have an opinion.

But that was how most of the family treated him, finishing his thoughts for him instead of having enough patience to hear him out.

“If that is indeed what William intended to say, it is very kind of him.” She smiled at him, and he blushed to the tips of his ears.

“William is not available.” Isaac ground out the words.

William’s jaw clenched as if, for once in his life, he might go against Isaac’s wishes. But she couldn’t let the boy get into trouble on her account.

“I can’t take him away from his work—he does so much for me already. I’ll manage.”

“How do you plan to do that?” Isaac’s face darkened to a deep red, and he looked dangerously close to an explosion.

It seemed she didn’t even consider the words before they were out of her mouth.

“Gideon Zook is going to build the greenhouse for me.”

She caught a glimpse of movement from the corner of her eye. Gideon was standing there, watching them, close enough to hear every word.

CHAPTER TWO

G
ideon
winced inwardly as the expression on Rachel’s face hit him. She’d just announced that he was going to build the greenhouse for her. But as soon as she’d seen him, she’d regretted her hasty words.

He hadn’t been listening intentionally He’d just noticed that her stand didn’t seem to be busy at the moment, and he’d thought this might be a good opportunity to see if she’d made up her mind about the building.

Well, now he knew. She had, and if he wasn’t mistaken, she’d been driven to that by Isaac’s attempts to boss her around.

Ezra had always said his eldest brother was a little too fond of giving people orders. Even when they were boys together, he remembered Isaac trying to rule the roost. But Ezra had been a peaceable person. He’d listened politely to what Isaac advised, and then he’d gone his own way.

The surprise was Rachel. Who would have thought that someone who seemed as soft and gentle as Rachel would display such a stubborn streak when she was pushed?

Isaac, apparently following the direction of Rachel’s gaze, turned and saw him. His face darkened a little.

“Gideon.” He jerked his head in greeting. “Is this true, what Rachel is telling us?”

“Ja.”

Sometimes the less said the better, and Isaac, though a good enough man in his way, had an uncertain temper to go with his bossy ways.

Isaac hesitated, and his expression said he was trying to adjust his attitude. “That’s kind of you.” It sounded as if he had to push the words out. “Still, Rachel’s family is well able to help her.”

It didn’t seem the moment to point out that he’d just refused to do that very thing. “It makes no trouble. I promised Ezra that I would build the greenhouse if he got the materials.” He kept his voice even with an effort, Ezra’s face filling his mind, head thrown back, laughing as he’d done so easily. “I want to fulfill that promise.”

Isaac’s jaw hardened at the words, his eyes narrowing. He’d probably be surprised to know that Rachel had reacted much the same way.

And neither of them would ever know that his determination to do this thing went far beyond a matter of wanting to fulfill a promise to a dead friend.

A fresh spasm of pain went through him. He would do this because Ezra had been closer than a brother, and because he owed it to him. Ezra was dead, and he was alive. The pain deepened.

“Ja, well ...” Isaac’s words trailed off. “We can talk about it more later, when Rachel has thought this whole thing through.”

When Rachel had come to her senses, Isaac clearly meant. His piece said, Isaac nodded to Rachel’s mother, then turned and walked away. William, with a slightly apologetic smile directed toward Rachel, followed him.

Gideon watched the brothers walk down the now-muddy stretch between the rows of booths. He hesitated for a moment. The expression on Rachel’s face wasn’t very encouraging.

Still, since she’d committed herself openly to the project, he’d best nail it down before she had any more regrets than she already did. He approached the stand and leaned against the waist-high wooden counter.

“It looks as if you had a fine sale day, Rachel.” He gestured to the flats that had been filled with blooming plants when he’d passed by her stand earlier. He’d not only taken note of them—he’d directed several people to her stand for flowers.

“Ja.” She glanced at the counter, as if surprised to find it empty. “It’s the first Mud Sale of the year, so everyone’s eager to get something blooming, they are.”

“We’ve had a wonderful fine turnout today, with the sun finally shining. The fire company will have a nice profit when all’s said and done.”

Mud Sale season would run for a few more weeks, probably, but their township volunteer fire company liked to be the first, especially this year, with the fund drive for a new fire engine. He’d been a fire company volunteer for years, and even though he and the other Amish couldn’t drive the fire truck, they knew well how important it was to have up-to-date equipment.

“Ser gut.” Rachel seemed to relax a little with the conversation safely off her own affairs.

He couldn’t leave it at that, or she’d be backing out again. “You’ll be able to grow a lot more plants for sale once you have your greenhouse up and running.”

“I guess so.” Her gaze evaded his, and she began stacking the flats, as if she wanted to keep her hands busy. “About the greenhouse. I—well, I spoke hastily. You don’t have to feel obligated to do the building.”