Seasons of Tomorrow (28 page)

Tears welled, and she shoved him. “You’re a pain. You know that?” A bit of laughter escaped her.

He stepped back on impact, grinning. “Is that it?”

“Just let me pass. Okay?”

He waggled two fingers in front of her eyes. “I see what’s going on with you, Rhoda Byler. Make no mistake about that. And things have been building inside you since Landon left. The situation with Phoebe is a lot, but you keep shoving me away.” Anger flashed in his eyes, overtaking his effort to remain gentle.

She knew that right then he didn’t care who thought what. He wanted what he wanted. “You have enough to deal with.”

“I don’t
deal
with you!” Samuel glanced up and seemed to realize what
she’d thought was obvious—that Jacob and Leah could hear them. He gestured for her to follow him, and they stepped out of the barn far enough that their voices wouldn’t echo off the barn walls. “I’m privileged to be someone you trust.” The sincerity in his brown eyes assured her he meant what he said.

“But you’re tired, and …”

“We’ve traveled a long, difficult journey to have the freedom to be here for each other. Ya?”

She nodded.

“Don’t take that from us, Rhoda. Not ever.”

She wanted to melt into his arms for a long, warm hug. But she wouldn’t with Jacob here.

She swallowed. “I’m seeing Phoebe …”

The argument between Samuel and Rhoda rang in Jacob’s ears as he finished filling the water troughs, wound the hose, and put it on the hook. His brother and Rhoda had gone from view, leaving Jacob baffled and raw. At the end of their short but passionate disagreement, he couldn’t resist looking up from his chores, and he realized that whether they were enjoying the best life had to give or enduring the worst, Rhoda and Samuel knew and loved each other beyond what made logical sense.

He realized something else too. He often fought for what he shouldn’t, like when he kept trying to dig that Englisch construction company out of the mess they were in and when he fought to get Sandra’s husband free of his gambling debts. But Jacob often gave up when he should fight, like when he ran from the law instead of trying to clear his name and get his freedom back. Of all the things he gave up on, he worried that giving up on friendships was one of the easiest.

Samuel entered the barn, and Jacob lost his train of thought.

His brother took one of the lit kerosene lanterns off its peg. “You’re about done, right?”

“Ya, why?” Leah leaned a pitchfork against the wall.

“I think all of us should call it a day.”

“Uh. You’re not thinking about this right.” Jacob had known before coming here that he’d be offended by Samuel at the slightest thing, and he’d been right. What was his brother thinking? “I’m going to the hospital tomorrow morning, so I won’t be around to help. We could get a jump on your work load by mixing the oily concoction and filling the tanks tonight.”

“I appreciate that a lot, Jacob. But I’ll get an early start on it tomorrow. Okay?”

Jacob grit his teeth. Samuel wanted time with Rhoda, probably to talk for hours. Jacob didn’t come here to lend a helping hand so his brother could stay up all night talking to
his
ex-girlfriend. Besides, why now? Weren’t there already enough raw emotions without Samuel and Rhoda needing to talk about their feelings? Sometimes love seemed the stupidest thing on the planet.

Yet love is all that really matters
. The thought struck him cold, and he immediately wondered what Leah might need from him to help her cope better with Landon being run off and Phoebe being in the hospital.

The thoughts cooled his offense. “I guess I could use some time with my little sister, if she’s game.” The house didn’t have a quiet or private space. “Maybe a walk in the orchard or sitting in the loft.”

Leah studied Jacob, looking interested in what he might want. She motioned toward the ladder that led to the hayloft, and Jacob nodded before reaching for a lantern.

“Oh.” Samuel’s voice made them pause. “There’s been an issue with restocking our oil supply. I’d originally thought we’d be out before now, but since Steven hasn’t been in the field at all due to Phoebe’s illness, we still have some left. However, we only have enough to work the field tomorrow. The order is waiting at the supply store. We just haven’t been able to get it.”

Jacob wondered what else they were behind on. Getting the oil would take a while, but it was necessary. “I’ll return from the hospital before the others, and I’ll be sure the driver takes me by the place to get it.”

As he and Leah took lanterns with them and climbed into the hayloft, he wrestled with his feelings toward Samuel and Rhoda. Maybe it was jealousy. Or maybe it was just weird being around the girl he’d intended to marry. How soon could he get off this farm and return to … to … a different kind of loneliness?

While he hung the lanterns, Leah grabbed several old blankets out of a box. She walked to the end of the hayloft that faced the orchard and put several on the floor like a mat. Then she tossed one to Jacob. “When are you leaving?”

“I was just asking myself the same thing. I should go see Phoebe and assure Steven he can call me anytime.”

“And help Samuel finish covering the trees in oil before the insects hatch—so at least a week or two? Right?”

That had been his plan before he saw Samuel and Rhoda interact, but Leah was right of course. He nodded. “I guess I’ll be here a week.” And hopefully not two.

They sat, and through the open door he saw Rhoda and Samuel carrying chairs and lanterns toward the orchard. A silvery, thin fog rested on rows and rows of scraggly-looking trees. They were healthy, of that he had no doubt, but apple trees without leaves reminded him of a haunted forest. He assumed this view appeared completely different to Samuel and Rhoda. They set their chairs at the edge of the orchard.

Samuel and Rhoda—he sighed—there had to be a better topic. “So, how are you really doing?”

Leah talked about Landon and missing him while being angry with him.

Jacob shifted, leaning his back against the frame of the door. “You don’t seem as upset as I thought you’d be.”

She tucked one of the blankets over her legs. “I’m plenty stressed, and my heart feels as if someone ran it through a blender.”

The last time Leah was really stressed over a breakup, she couldn’t keep food down, her stomach hurt all the time, and she lost a lot of weight. Of
course, she added to the problems by drinking on the weekends. Leah gave up her willful ways, and Rhoda provided her with a lot of herbal tea concoctions that seemed to help. “How’s your stomach?”

“Good. I don’t have much appetite these days, but even with all this stress, I’m not having any serious problems.” She propped her hands behind her. “A couple of things have given me a few smidgens of peace. One is that whatever happens to us, I know Landon loved me, and I know he’s not out trying to erase my memory with some other woman.” She looked out the open door. “Despite the agreement Landon made with Daed, when the dust settles, I’ll see if I can get his new phone number.”

“Leah King.”

A sheepish smile shined bright. “I know, I’m a horrible person, right? So tell me where you were when I texted you.”

“New Hampshire, building a play set for Casey.”

The conversation meandered for nearly an hour before neither one seemed able to think of anything else to say. He’d been gone nine months, and they were finished talking in an hour?

“I’m lying down.” She snuggled under a blanket, facing him and using her arm as a pillow. “You haven’t told me anything about you, not really.” She yawned.

“And yet you’re bored already.”

She smiled. “I’ve missed you.”

“Good to know someone has.”

“Are you serious?” She stifled another yawn. “We all have, and I mean
all
of us. Grief hung in the air for months after you left. Did you think otherwise?”

He didn’t know what he’d thought.

“And”—Leah freed one hand from a blanket and shook a finger at him—“I’d bet a year’s salary that Rhoda and Samuel have spent more time praying for you and grieving over hurting you than anything or anyone.”

“I don’t like that.”

“Why?”

“It makes it harder to plot against them.”

Leah chuckled. “I guess so.”

But the earlier argument between Rhoda and Samuel had made one thing really clear: he didn’t understand her, not where it counted most. Not where her greatest strengths crashed head-on into her greatest weaknesses. He could never deny that she was kindhearted, gorgeous, and a gifted horticulturist who worked really hard. And she had a head for business. Nor could he deny that she’d been really good for him from the day they met until the last few months they were together, which was only a year from start to finish, much of which he spent elsewhere, dealing with his past.

“I see they still argue pretty easily.”

“Less and less, actually. But one of them will get stubborn about something, and they’ll butt heads until they work it out.” Her words dragged as her eyes became heavy with sleep.

“You ready to go in?”

“No. I hate the idea of going to my room. Every weight and fear seem to crash in on me once I lie down on my bed. Is it okay if we stay here instead?”

“I doubt I can sleep anyway.” Jacob picked up a piece of straw and twiddled it. And twiddled it. And twiddled it. As the minutes ticked by, he mulled over every conversation he’d had with Esther.

What was
wrong
with him tonight? Did he miss her? He stared skyward, seeing nothing but fog. Seemed fitting somehow. Why would Esther lie? What was the point?

If he knew her better, maybe he’d have the answers he was looking for. That night in town when they sat on the curb talking, she’d said, “It was on this night …” But then Ammon interrupted them, and she never finished her sentence. What was she going to say? Would it have helped him know the real Esther Beachy? And on the last evening Jacob was in Virginia, Ammon seemed to be searching for answers of his own, but to what?

Leah took a deep breath. “Hey.” She stretched. “I dozed off. How long did I sleep?”

“About an hour. Maybe.” He tossed the straw out the hayloft door. Apparently he and Leah didn’t have all that much to talk about. He and Rhoda
used to talk, but they talked about little things, memories, and events. They also covered some serious stuff but only when she insisted. He’d helped her navigate a few rough patches, like when she didn’t want to move here. He listened and helped her because
he
wanted something from her—for her to agree to move.

“We needed you, and you came.” Sitting up, Leah stretched. “You’re a good guy, Jacob.”

It struck him a little funny that Esther had said something similar not all that long ago.

Leah yawned. “You know that, right?”

“That’s not what I was sitting here thinking, but okay.” Sure, he was amicable enough, but the longer he thought about who Esther was to him and how quickly he’d given up and walked away, the more he understood why he struggled with loneliness. Leaving people behind that he cared about seemed to be who he was. He gestured toward Rhoda and Samuel. “Did you and Landon talk until the cows came home?”

“Sometimes. Nobody talks like that all the time.” She removed her prayer Kapp. “You okay?”

“Would you say we’re close?”

“You and me? Sure. As close as you let someone get.”

“What does that mean? I’ve been there for you every time you’ve asked it of me. We talk. We laugh. Not on this trip, but you know what I mean.”

“I agree with everything you just said. You were the only person I trusted at times, no matter what was going on in my life. You even came this time, despite that you’re here to help your former girlfriend and Samuel. You’re a great guy. Seriously.”

“But?”

“You sure?”

“Please.”

“Okay. You’ve seen some Spiderman or Superman movies, right?” She pulled the pins out of her hair, releasing a ponytail that went halfway down her back.

“I’ve watched pieces of a lot of things on television at Sandra’s, so I’ve probably seen enough. Go ahead.”

“You’re a superhero. You swoop in, help, and disappear. But the thing about superheroes is people love and admire them and even need them, but no one really knows them. They keep too many secrets.”

Is that who he was? “Seems to me most have one girl who finally figures it out, or the hero tells her.”

“Exactly, Jacob.”

He’d tried that with Rhoda. Of course he was also gone, elusive with details when he returned, and rarely around to help her with whatever was going on in her life.

“It comes natural to hide.” He’d been hiding something as far back as he could remember. His first memories of hiding things were at his parents’ insistence, because he was gifted at math, and that ability wasn’t Plain enough. Then he hid how he detested working the family orchard until he was fourteen, when he convinced his parents to let him move in with his uncle and apprentice as a carpenter. His next secret was that he longed to leave the Amish and practice his math and carpentry skills among the Englisch. At nineteen, living among the Englisch, he hid his eighth-grade education and his ultraconservative roots, embarrassed to be himself. By the time he returned home, he was hiding from the law and hiding from everyone around him what he’d done. “I’m still hiding.”