Seasons of Tomorrow (9 page)

He glanced out the double-wide doorway of the barn. “I don’t think so. We can check the maps I have in the office and see if it’s in Maine.”

“Ya, let’s do that.”

They went into the office, and he opened a huge atlas and flipped to the Maine page. With pencils in hand they scanned it. “Here’s a Saint George.” Samuel cross-referenced it by looking at the listings of counties. Eeriness and excitement churned within him. “Look at this. It’s in Knox County.”

Rhoda knotted her hands into fists. “Is it possible she lives there?”

Something creaked, causing them both to look in that direction. His father stood in the doorway. Disbelief stole every organized thought from Samuel, and heat flushed his body as anxiety collided with reality. Samuel moved in front of Rhoda, wanting to shield her from what was about to happen. “Daed.”

His father stepped to the side and pointed a shaky finger at Rhoda. “How dare you conjure up witchcraft! And you”—he pointed at Samuel—“not only allow it, but you encourage it?”

Rhoda closed her eyes, and Samuel knew every bit of her focused energy had just scattered like dust flying from hay during feeding time.

“Daed, stop. Now.” Samuel gritted his teeth, trying his best to keep his voice low and calm for Rhoda’s sake.

“Benjamin.” Rhoda gave a slow nod of acknowledgment. “I didn’t realize—”

The man clenched his hands. “If you’d known I was here, I wouldn’t have seen for myself what you’re dabbling in and how you’re dragging my son with you. No wonder Jacob left here.”

With her lips pressed together, Rhoda gave an understanding smile. “What I was saying sounded really weird and outside of acceptable. I know that, but—”

“Nee.” Daed shook his head. “I’m not discussing this with a woman.”

Rhoda’s face flushed, but to her credit she simply nodded.

Samuel’s hackles rose, and regardless of the consequences he had to speak up. “Daed, you have no call and no right to be rude to anyone on this farm, man or woman.”

“I’m not going to stand here and listen to her justify herself.”

“But you said unfair, insulting things, and then you refused to let her respond because she’s a woman.”

Daed pointed, his face taut. “While taking on a woman for a business partner, have you forgotten that the man is to lead, that the man is to have final authority and final say?”

Who had been bending his Daed’s ear lately? Whoever it was, they had him riled against women—as if his Daed needed those burning embers stirred in him. In the past his Daed had no passionate desire to set women straight. He’d only wanted to be left alone, even when Leah was young and crossing moral lines. Now he wanted to stand his ground and argue?

“I haven’t forgotten about the man’s authority, Daed.” How could he? It was the foundation of the family unit and the Amish culture. “But in those same passages we’re told to love as Christ loved the church. I can’t see Jesus saying unjust things to people and then refusing to let them speak because of their gender. Can you?”

His Daed’s face turned a purplish red. “Whatever darkness she’s dabbling in, it’s not of God.”

Samuel looked to Rhoda. “Maybe you should go into the house.”

Rhoda glanced from one man to the other. “Ya, okay.”

Samuel looked through the office window, waiting until Rhoda was halfway to the house so she wouldn’t be within earshot if they started yelling. “You’re judging the situation and Rhoda too quickly.”

“I don’t need time to ponder and listen to know she’s wrong. How blind and deaf have you become for us to need to have this conversation?”

“You’ve never had knowledge come to you from out of the blue? You never knew when a loved one was sick or in danger or had been in an accident? You’ve never known for sure what you needed to do in a sticky situation and you couldn’t explain how you knew it?”

Daed scratched his forehead. “But she said she hears dead people!”

“No. She said she didn’t hear from any
supposedly
dead people.”

“You are straining at gnats.”

Samuel hoped he could find the right words. “She was talking to me, and I understood what she meant.”

“And?”

“Have you ever heard a barn cat cry and at first thought it was a baby? Or heard fireworks and thought it was thunder, or a car backfire and believed it was a gun going off? We think we know what a sound is when we first hear it, but with a bit of thought and investigation, it is often revealed to be something else.”

“You don’t wish to righteously evaluate or judge anything happening on this farm, do you?” Something outside the window caught Daed’s attention, and he narrowed his eyes as he moved closer to the glass.

When Samuel looked through it, he saw no one. If someone had been out there, the person had gone around the front or back corner of the barn. “Daed.”

His Daed held up his hand. “Sh.” A few moments later he left the office and entered the barn.

What now?
Samuel followed him.

His sister stood on her tiptoes, her lips on Landon’s.
Good grief
.

“Hey.” Samuel stepped forward. “Daed’s here.” Who did he get to drive him here, anyway?

Leah froze.

Stiltedness was about all that had ever existed between Leah and their Daed, but his scowl sent a clear message to his eldest daughter. “Pack your bags. We leave here tomorrow morning.”

Leah glanced from Samuel to Landon, terror filling her eyes. “Daed, please, I can explain.”

“I’m sure you and Rhoda can both wrap Samuel and Steven around your fingers, but I won’t stand for it. The rumors of what takes place on this farm have motivated a bishop from Pennsylvania to choose to move here. He could be here within a matter of days, and if he’d witnessed what I just did, he’d have everyone on this farm shunned, including Preacher Steven for allowing his sister to practice witchcraft!” His father’s face was beet red. “Samuel, do you understand that if that happens, not only will the King name be mud, both here and in Pennsylvania, but everyone who supported this venture will pull out of it, expecting their money back in full? We could lose this farm and the one in Pennsylvania!”

Was that true? Or was his Daed’s anger causing him to toss out farfetched possibilities? Samuel had never heard of anyone being shunned on the grounds of witchcraft. How severe could that shunning be?

Landon and Leah remained quiet, probably in shock. How long before the shock wore off? And when it did, what would his sister and Landon do?

“You’ve put me in a horrible position.” His Daed grabbed his head with both hands, and his hat tumbled to the ground. “If I don’t tell the bishop what I know, and he discovers it later on, I could be disciplined too.”

EIGHT

Jacob fidgeted with the reins as he drove the carriage along the back roads of Virginia. Dora’s arms were crossed inside her heavy coat as she stared at the floorboard.

The answer to his question of how to deal with Dora became really clear after he talked to Esther five days ago. He only needed to ask himself how he would want her to treat him if the tables were turned. But now he searched for the words to sum up all he’d said to Dora during this outing. “It’s not you.” That was completely honest. “You caught my attention, and we enjoyed each outing enough for me to ask for another, but I’ve decided against dating for a while.” That was true too. Unless he met someone he thought he might actually want to build a life with, he wasn’t asking anyone else out.

She didn’t look at him, but her eyes brimmed with tears as her face twisted. He could see why Esther was concerned for Dora. She didn’t handle disappointment well. She should feel only mild disillusionment and annoyance, but she was reacting as if they’d been seeing each other for quite a while.

He’d picked her up about twenty minutes ago, thinking they’d only need to make a loop from her driveway and back again. But she’d gotten overly upset, so he’d meandered down unfamiliar roads, giving them time to talk. He was completely turned around, but it was just as well. She wasn’t absorbing anything other than rejection, and he didn’t want to drop her off at home in this condition.

Dora wiped at her tears. “So I mean nothing to you?”

“That’s just silly.
Nothing
is way too strong a word. But I’m not looking for a girlfriend. It’s too soon after my last one.”

“Then why did you ask me out … 
three
times?” Her tiny voice and mumbled words did nothing to endear her to him.

He’d already answered that. “I’m really sorry this hurts your feelings,
but I told you the first night I asked you out after the singing that I was leaving in April and wouldn’t be back.”

“When you said it, I was hoping you’d take me with you.”

“What?” His voice boomed, and he regretted his response, but how could anyone seriously consider marriage
before
a first date?

She covered her face, bright red skin showing around her hands and down her neck. They rode in silence, and she finally got her emotions under control, wiped her tears, and drew a ragged breath.

A colonial style home came into view with a much smaller house next to it, probably the accompanying
Daadi Haus
. A clothesline stood between the two places, and a couple of teenage girls were nearby, wet clothes in hand, one flailing what appeared to be a diaper toward the other. Jacob narrowed his eyes. Most Amish women did laundry on Monday or Tuesday, not Saturday. A moment later one of the girls landed on the ground. Had she simply fallen or been pushed?

The front door of the larger house flew open, and Esther hobbled out of it, the baby on her hip. The little one had grown quite a bit since Jacob first saw him four months ago. He appeared to be ten or eleven months old. Despite all the female turmoil in his life today, he smiled at the scene.

Jacob slowed the rig, his curiosity piqued as he chuckled. “More sisters?”

“What?” Dora jerked a breath in and looked up from the floorboard.

He pointed behind them. “Esther seems to be breaking up a fight between two girls younger than you.”

Dora looked offended. “They are
not
my sisters, not related at all.”

His interest inched a little higher. “Then who are they?”

Her body tensed into a shrug she didn’t release.

He laughed. “Dora … who are they?”

She plucked balls of wool from her coat. “You know Esther?”

He hadn’t meant to let that slip. “Ya, actually, I do. We sort of bumped into each other in town the other night.”

Suspicion hardened Dora’s face. “Did she say something that changed your mind about me?”

“No. Of course not.” Esther’s only influence had been to help Jacob understand that, since he intended to end things with Dora anyway, sooner was better than later, for Dora’s sake. “So who are the girls?”

“Esther houses young women from across the states who need a temporary place to live. She’s done it for almost six years now.”

Was Esther providing a halfway house for those who didn’t wish to remain Amish? That didn’t make sense. Those still living Amish didn’t help others leave. And when children weren’t in a good Amish home, the Amish often had someone go into the home to help set things right. “So the girls are pregnant.”

Dora nodded.

That situation didn’t happen often among the Amish, but it wasn’t exactly rare either. If the girls hadn’t had on those bulky coats, he might have seen they were expecting. But when a girl found herself in that predicament, she usually married right away. Even if that didn’t happen, parents rarely kicked them out. Did they?

“I love my sister, but how she lives is embarrassing.”

If this was what Esther did regularly, some sort of mission outreach to pregnant girls, her suspicion of Jacob’s phone conversation and her disbelief about his explanation made perfect sense. But Dora’s attitude seemed immature. “I’m sure she’s taken plenty of heat over the years for doing this. Maybe you should try being proud of her.”

Disbelief filled her eyes. “You have her for a sister and walk in my shoes, and then we’ll talk about this. She’s relentless in frank discussions about men. It drives me and my sisters crazy.”

“How many sisters do you have?”

“Three—Esther, who’s older, and two younger. Four brothers. Two older and two younger. In Esther’s defense she’s no easier on my brothers than she is on us girls.”

“I can imagine.” He came to an intersection that had the name of her road on it. “Right or left?”

“Right.”

“So the stuff she salvages to sell—does she do that for herself or to support the home for the girls?”

“The girls. The good news is the bishop’s wife has a heart for those girls too. Some of the other families in the community also donate to the cause, but not many. Money is tight for most families, and there’s a sense that the girls made their bed, so let them lie in it, which I fully agree with.”

Jacob didn’t see it as Dora did. Was Esther’s financial need for her charity the reason he’d had the same feeling the other night as he’d had the day the tornado came through?

He wasn’t sure, but there was only one way to find out: do a little cautious exploring. He had no idea if the owners of the new homes would be interested in her repurposed flooring, and they’d already picked out what they wanted, but it hadn’t been installed yet. Maybe Jacob could sell one of the two sets of owners on the idea of using salvaged wood in one room of the house. That should help some, and he could find the extra time to install that flooring in one room and still finish on time, couldn’t he?