Seasons of Tomorrow (26 page)

He chuckled. “Think so?” He didn’t. He just held on to them differently from his sister. If Leah could understand people’s reasons for doing
something, she could forgive them. Jacob couldn’t. Even when he appreciated the best in the person, he could still hold on to his personal grudge. One day he’d like to wake up a fully mature person, able to handle life as he knew he should.

Esther came to mind to again. Was it immature to be unwilling to have anything else to do with her, or was it an acceptable boundary against someone who’d tried to deceive him and would still be deceiving him if he hadn’t figured it out?

The front door opened, and Iva walked out, smiling. “Hey, I know you!”

Leah backed away and turned, motioning for Iva.

Iva held out her hand, and Jacob took it. She squeezed it. “I know it was hard to come back here, but I never doubted you’d do it.”

“How’re you doing, Iva?”

“Not bad. It’s good to see you again.”

Ziggy and Zara charged at him out of nowhere, barking, and when Jacob looked beyond them, he saw Samuel driving the wagon to the barn. Jacob whistled for the dogs and made a kissing sound. They slowed, bristled, and then inched forward to sniff his hand. He wasn’t one of their favorite people, but they recognized him. Samuel stopped at the hitching post outside the barn, apparently not even noticing him or the girls in the front yard.

Jacob drew a breath. He had an awkward greeting to get through. At least Rhoda wasn’t with Samuel right now. It’d be nice to know where she was so her sudden appearance didn’t startle him, but he wouldn’t ask.

“Leah, Iva, I’ll see you in a bit.”

Both glanced at Samuel and nodded. He strode to the barn.

Samuel removed the rigging without looking up. Jacob imagined his brother spent untold hours working this orchard. He and Rhoda loved tending God’s land. It made them feel connected to its Creator.

Jacob had never felt that way about it, but he hadn’t minded the work when he’d had no other choice. “Hey.”

Samuel turned, and they stared at each other. Jacob wondered what his
eyes said to his brother. Samuel’s reflected both a welcome and sorrow.
“Willkumm. Es iss gut du kumm.”

Jacob only managed a nod in response to Samuel’s welcome. Jacob shoved his hands into his pockets. “I heard it’s been bad around here.”

Samuel nodded. “Times of it.”

“But there is nowhere else you’d rather be, right?”

Regardless of the weight on his shoulders or the sadness in his heart, Samuel’s lopsided smile said it all. “Nowhere.” He held out his hand.

Jacob was torn between the desire to embrace his brother and the desire to punish him. Would it always be this awkward between them? Memories of the friendship they’d had while growing up mocked him. Jacob put his hand in his brother’s. “We can’t let nature take over the orchard. It’s the family’s best source of income, and by
family
I mean my best source.”

“You liked the cut you received after the harvest, did you?”

At the time, receiving it had only saddened and annoyed him. But now that he no longer fought to let go of Rhoda, he saw it for what it was: a sacrifice to give Jacob his portion. Samuel had sent it to their uncle, who got it to Jacob.

“It wasn’t bad.” Jacob went to the horse, grabbed her by the halter, and headed into the barn. “It paid off almost half my legal fees.”

His brother fell into step with him, looking fully exhausted, but it was dark now, and nothing else could be done in the orchard. Jacob put the horse in its stall. “What’s on the schedule for tomorrow?”

Samuel hung the rigging over a half wall. “One guess.”

“Spraying the trees.” Jacob put oats in the horse’s trough. It was time they put the niceties to rest and got down to business. Samuel wouldn’t speak about the real situation unless Jacob asked directly. “How behind are you?”

Samuel shook his head. “There’s no way to get caught up, not after all this. After you left, we hired Crist to work whatever time he could spare from his family’s farm, which is only a day or two each week. Then we lost Landon. Now Phoebe and Steven. And right now Steven wants Rhoda to stay with him.”

So that’s where Rhoda was, at the hospital. “So it’s just you?”

“For now.”

Jacob searched for the right words. “You’ve gotten through worse.”

Samuel’s brows knit. “This is different.”

Jacob waited, but Samuel added nothing to his brief statement. It seemed the Kings had been battling one huge issue after another for several years. Had Samuel lost his heart to fight, or was he simply overwhelmed with exhaustion?

“How bad is Phoebe?”

Samuel turned a bucket upside down and sat. “Bad.” He propped his forearms on his legs and studied hay-strewn dirt on the floor under his feet. “Steven is beside himself. Phoebe is connected to wires and tubing, and a machine is breathing for her.” Samuel’s slow, heavy speech weighed on Jacob. “The doctors called a meeting with the immediate family today, saying decisions have to be made.”

Jacob’s mouth went dry. “What kind of decisions?”

Samuel hesitated, shaking his head. “I’m not sure.” The sound of tires on gravel caused Samuel to jump up. “They’re back.”

Jacob peered through the open barn door and saw a vanload of Amish streaming out of the vehicle. First he saw Steven, followed by his and Rhoda’s parents. Another middle-aged couple emerged, probably Phoebe’s parents.

Then … Rhoda.

His pulse raced, and his head spun. He hadn’t expected seeing her to do this to his insides. Had he been wrong all these months?

Was he still in love with her?

TWENTY-ONE

Rhoda sat on the floor of the bathroom, hugging her knees as she watched the second hand on the clock make another slow circle, tick by tick. Desperate for time alone, she’d hurried from the van directly into the bathroom, seeing and speaking to no one.

Even now, with her eyes wide open, she saw Phoebe’s limp body on a hospital bed with a ventilator connected to her mouth, blowing extra oxygen into her lungs. Decisions had to be made, but the wrong one could cost Phoebe and her unborn child their lives.

“Father, please.” Rhoda pressed her lips against the dress covering her knees. “What should we do?”

She couldn’t keep hiding in this bathroom, hoping for answers. She rose and turned on the water in the sink. She splashed water on her face, rinsing away her tears, but water couldn’t wash away the sorrow. Or fear. With the doctor’s words ringing in her ears, she stared at herself in the mirror. Dishes clanged. The women were getting food on the table. The inevitable family meeting had to take place.

Would Steven begin the discussion before, during, or after the meal? The idea of food made her sick. She dried her face and left the bathroom. She glanced into the living room. The men were there, staying out of the way until they were called for supper—her Daed, and Phoebe’s, Steven, Isaac, Samuel, and … her heart skipped a beat.
Jacob
.

Their eyes met. When had he arrived? Had someone told her he was coming and it didn’t register? After months of praying for him, she couldn’t budge to welcome him. He stayed put too.

Her Mamm stepped into the living room with Arie on her hip. Having turned four recently, Arie was really too big for her grandmother to carry her. Mamm glanced into the kitchen.
“Es iss Zeit esse.”
When the men continued
talking without responding to Mamm’s call to eat, she motioned. “Kumm.”

Samuel rose, gesturing for the older men to go ahead of him. Rhoda unglued her feet and went to Jacob. “Denki.” Would he understand that
thank you
covered everything from coming here now to being gracious when he’d told others why he’d left Orchard Bend Farms?

He shifted, looking as uncomfortable as she felt. “I’m sorry about Phoebe.”

“Denki.” Rhoda bit back tears, her mind too blank to think of anything else to say. She went into the kitchen. After the prayer, dishes were passed around, but few words were spoken. Despite the sting of nausea in her throat, Rhoda ate the roast beef sandwich made from leftovers. She didn’t doubt the food was tasty, although it felt like cardboard in her mouth, but if she didn’t eat, her parents would worry.

Samuel pulled a piece of notebook paper from his pocket. “All of Phoebe’s and Steven’s siblings have called today and left voice mails, hoping for an update and assuring us of their prayers and willingness to come here if we want them to. I wrote all the messages down.”

An update
. Rhoda lowered her fork of sliced apples and bananas. She and Steven had an update to share, but it held as much grief as it did hope.

“Could you read what they said?” Mamm poured fresh water into Steven’s glass.

Steven nodded, giving Samuel the go-ahead to do as Mamm asked. He read the messages, and they jumbled together, each one unique and each one the same. “The most pressing message, Steven, is from your brother John. He asked again if he should leave Lydia and the children and come here.”

Steven tossed his napkin onto his plate of half-eaten food. “He can’t do that. Daed’s here, and John needs to work. I told him that yesterday. He needs to stop asking me if I want him to come.”

“We can fix that for you.” Samuel turned to Rhoda’s Daed. “Karl, do you want to call John with clarification, or would you like me to do it?”

“I’ll do it. Denki.” Her Daed laid his roast beef sandwich on his plate. “Son,”—he looked to Steven—“can you tell us now what the doctor said?”

Rhoda hated that every sentence spoken at this table sounded as stiff as the men’s starched Sunday shirts.

Her Mamm wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Or let Rhoda tell us what he said.”

The doctor would have given the report to all of them, but Steven wanted only him and Rhoda present, feeling that too many ears would hear too many different things, adding to the confusion.

Steven blew a stream of air from his lips. “Rhoda.”

“Ya, sure.” She glanced at Phoebe’s children, wishing they understood even less English. “We were told that this case is unusual, that not many doctors in the US have a lot of experience with this strain of H1N1. So as Phoebe progresses, the doctors are learning how this strain affects the body, especially one that is pregnant. But her primary doctor believes Phoebe is fighting with all she has to get better.” Rhoda’s tears tried to break free, and she took a deep breath. “Although I have no idea what would make him think that when she’s in a coma.”

Shaking, she took a sip of her water. “But even when the virus has run its course, and that could be another week, she’ll continue to deal with the life-threatening side effects of the viral pneumonia. That battle could last a month. So it’s easier on her body, and it’s her best chance of getting better, if she remains in a medically induced coma. It also gives the baby the best chance of survival. Barring a turn for the worse, she’ll be in this condition for five to ten weeks.”

“Five to ten weeks?” Her Daed gestured with one hand, almost knocking over his glass of water. “A month to almost three months? Why so long?”

“The baby needs at least four more weeks in the womb to have a good chance of survival. If the baby comes before the thirtieth week of pregnancy, there could be serious, lifelong issues. Even after that there are many dangers, so the doctor wants as much time as he can get. If Phoebe can carry the child for eleven more weeks, she’ll deliver on the early side of full term.”

Phoebe’s Daed held Rhoda’s gaze. “Maybe we need a different opinion.”

Rhoda had met this man when Steven and Phoebe were dating, and he used to remind her of the friendly-looking Santa she’d seen on billboards: bright eyes, jolly laugh, and joy shimmering off him like magic sparkles. Right now, though, his gray hair, long beard, and drawn features made him look like old man winter.

Steven pushed his plate toward the center of the table. “There is a team of doctors meeting daily about her. Keeping Phoebe in a coma is the team’s opinion, not just one doctor’s opinion, of what’s best.”

“Steven,”—Daed played with condensation on his glass—“I overheard the doctor say that decisions have to be made. What decisions?”

“The doctors feel she should be moved to a different hospital, one better suited for handling preemie babies. The ambulance driver was aiming to keep her alive that day, so he went to the closest hospital.”

“But their plan is for her to carry to full term,” Mamm said. “Then the baby won’t be premature, right? And moving her must have some measure of risk, so why chance it?”

Steven put his head in his hands. “I wish I knew.”

The doctors had explained this to him half a dozen times. Rhoda ran her fingers across the table, swiping up crumbs she hadn’t realized were there. “Phoebe’s situation is filled with unknowns, and they want to be ready for whatever may come. The doctor said the risks of moving her should be minimal.”

“Should be?” Mamm covered her mouth, her skin almost as white as her hair. When had her mother turned so gray? Rhoda looked across the table at Samuel, wishing he would sit next to her and hold her hand. But with Jacob there, they wouldn’t let their guard down and possibly rub salt into his wounds. “If Steven doesn’t wish to move her, he doesn’t have to.”