Seasons of Tomorrow (29 page)

“My secrets were recently exposed to everyone, or I could say ‘you and me both.’ ” She shrugged. “Landon says it’s not really our fault. The Old Ways make secrecy a necessary evil for those of us who don’t fit the social mores of Old Order Amish. We bring shame to our parents if we comb our hair differently. But you joined the faith, so you’ve accepted the Old Ways, right?”

“I have. I choose being Amish. I agree with far more than I disagree with. Rather than fighting against the Old Ways, I tend to fight with myself, and I’ve done that all my life, whether I’m in the Amish world or the Englisch one.”

“Sounds to me as if you need to stop being a superhero and find someone to talk to.” She tugged the blanket, snuggling against its warmth. “No one got me like Landon, and if his leaving as he did wasn’t bad enough, now my heart is broken because of Phoebe, and I can’t even talk to the one person who listens in just the right way.”

Her words “listens in just the right way” struck him. He’d never opened up to anyone the way he had to Esther, and her drawing force for him was more than her sense of humor and interesting ways. No one listened the way she did. “I met an Amish woman in Virginia, and I came clean about lots of things just because I wanted to.”

“Ohhhhh.” She leaned toward him. “Do tell.”

“I really liked her.”

“Did you go out?”

“I thought she was married, so no.”

“But if she’s not married, why not ask her out?”

“She wanted me to believe she was married. Why?”

“Absolutely no clue. She doesn’t really sound like the kind of person you’d want to be friends with.”

“The situation is different than it sounds.” Esther was a better person than it sounded. Wasn’t she? Why was he defending her? He studied the orchard. It went through so much change with each season, and right now it seemed that people went through drastic changes too.

As he watched Samuel and Rhoda sit in the cold so they could hash out what was troubling her without anyone hearing them, Jacob realized that despite the work load and grievous circumstances, Samuel was content—a kind of contentment a man couldn’t get by hiding who he was. Or letting others hide. Why hadn’t Jacob known who the real Esther was? She hadn’t clarified his misconceptions, but why had he made deceiving him so easy for her when one or two simple, natural questions would have revealed everything?

TWENTY-THREE

Snores and heavy breathing assured Landon his bunkmates were still asleep as he dressed for the day. The sun had yet to rise, but after talking to Rhoda last night, he needed to get some chores done so he could meet with his supervisor as soon as possible.

He went to the barn, flicked on the lights, and began tending the horses. He moved some from their stalls and fed them elsewhere so he could clean their stalls and spread fresh straw ahead of schedule. When the man who’d hired him asked what he’d done this morning, and he would ask, Landon wanted to give an answer that would cause the man to understand he’d work hard to make up for every day he asked off.

He
hated
this with Phoebe. Hated it. But despite his sorrow, his heart pounded with the hope of seeing Leah, of having a chance to talk with her. Since he’d never been in a relationship before, he hadn’t known that a bitter argument lasting for weeks was a world better than stone-cold silence. As long as words were flying, there was hope of a breakthrough. But complete stillness between two loves was a telltale sign of death.

Maybe his and Leah’s relationship was in a medically induced coma. Or maybe it had died and no one had told Leah and him yet.

With the stalls clean and the horses tended to, he saddled six of them, matching each one’s personality and strength with a specific rider. Daylight filled the barn, and Landon turned off the lights. The aroma of coffee brewing wafted through the air, and he knew the smells of bacon and pancakes would soon follow. The hired help would eat breakfast first, giving the guests plenty of time to sleep in and move slowly through the early morning hours. But the hired help ate lunch and dinner after the guests.

He followed the dirt trail to the supervisor’s office and tapped on the door.

“Enter.” The burly man behind the desk didn’t look up as he studied a calendar with the day’s events.

Landon removed his cowboy hat. “Sir, I’ve had a situation come up.”

The man made several red marks, checking some items, scratching out others. “It’s supposed to rain this afternoon. That’ll put a kink in our day.” He sighed and looked up. “Landon, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

He pointed to a chair. “Tell me what you’ve done so far today.”

Landon reeled off the list.

“Well.” The man tossed his pen onto the desk. “You have my attention. So what kind of situation has come up?”

How did one explain who Phoebe was? She wasn’t exactly a friend, but she was more than just the sister-in-law of the woman he worked for. She wasn’t even a relative of his girlfriend … if Leah was still his.

“Someone I worked with for a lot of years is pregnant and in a medically induced coma. She may not survive, and she’s a relative and good friend of people I care about. I know I haven’t built up any time off yet, but I need to go there.”

The man rubbed his clean-shaven face. “You intend to quit so you can go there full-time?”

“No. I need this job.” He made enough to cover his truck payment and health insurance. Plus this job included room and board. “I don’t know much yet. I should get a call later today or early tomorrow that will clear up a few things—like what hospital they’ll move her to and when.”

He nodded. “We hired you over others because you seemed stable. But things like this can’t be scheduled. When you know more, come back and see me. I’ll do what I can to swap your workdays and to help you get consecutive days off so you can visit. But you have to make up any lost time, and when you’re here, you’ll be expected to work really hard.”

Landon stood and held out his hand. “Thank you.” With that weight lifted off him, he left the office. When he stepped outside, Gabi stopped him.

She smiled, her cowgirl hat unable to hide the curiosity in her eyes. “There you are.” She looked behind him. “Coming out of the boss’s office. You quitting?”

“No. Just need a few concessions to my schedule due to a friend having health issues.” It was easy to call Phoebe a friend when not trying to be super aboveboard with a boss.

“A girlfriend?”

That was typical of Gabi. She didn’t mind asking questions most would consider too personal. But her forwardness seemed to be the worst thing about her, and he answered her questions when it suited him and ignored her when it didn’t. “A work-acquaintance friend. She has two little children and is pregnant, and no one is sure if she’ll survive.”

“That’s awful. If you need to swap days with me, just say the word. Some of the others will feel that way too.” She nodded toward the mess hall. “Hungry?”

“Actually, yeah.” He put his hat on and fell into step beside her.

Jacob’s knees weakened at the sight of Phoebe, and his eyes stung with unshed tears. He sat before he toppled. Her pale body lay unconscious. Her rounded belly bulged from under the sheets. She’d always been so kind to him. No matter what, she never said a discouraging word or gave off a negative vibe, even when Steven was frustrated with how often Jacob had needed to disappear, sometimes for months.

Heart monitors beeped, one for her and one for the baby. Despite the grating sound that indicated beating hearts and a machine that pushed oxygen into Phoebe’s lungs, she didn’t appear to be in this world any longer.

Medical personnel came in and out, milling about her as if she were no more than a piece of furniture that needed dusting or rearranging. Jacob longed to ask one of them what Phoebe’s chances were, but he didn’t dare, not with other family members in the room. Maybe the family knew and wasn’t talking about it, or maybe if they learned the truth, they couldn’t hold up under the cold facts of stats. When Phoebe’s mom tried to pass a Dixie Cup across the bed to her husband, she dropped it, spilling its contents on her daughter.

Phoebe never once moved, not when the cold water hit her or when they dried her off with a towel and covered the wet sheet with a thick blanket. It didn’t matter to Phoebe if she was wet or dry or warm or cold or if people were there or still at the farm working. None of it mattered, and yet she continued to breathe.

Steven escorted the family out of the room, giving Jacob some time alone with her. At first he sat there in silence. When a nurse came in to change her IV bag, Jacob asked about Phoebe’s chance of survival.

“Hard to tell.”

“But you have an idea, and I’d appreciate a gut-honest answer.”

She watched him for a minute before shrugging. “Her body will be worn out before the battle is over. If I were you, I’d brace the family for the strong possibility they won’t see her conscious again.” She continued adjusting Phoebe’s monitors. “Right before losing consciousness the last time and before the doctor put her in a coma, she grabbed his arm and pulled him close, begging him to do whatever it took to save the baby.” The nurse lifted her head, appearing truly touched by the situation. “We see all kinds here, but her words … Well, we’re hoping to give her what she asked. I understand that her husband is talking to the doctors right now, trying to decide what to do about moving her. The doctors are clear on their goal—to keep her alive for as long as possible so the baby can have the best chance of surviving and thriving outside the womb.” After the nurse gathered the empty IV bag and other paraphernalia, she paused. “If you want to comfort her, talk to her. We don’t know if people in her condition can understand the words, but they seem to respond to the love being shared.”

We probably won’t see her conscious again?

Jacob tried to think of something to say to her. After lying there hearing all those hospital noises, she would probably appreciate a familiar voice. “Hey, Phoebe.” He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this uncomfortable. “I … saw Arie and Isaac yesterday. Since I was here last, they’ve grown like apples in summertime.” His words began to pour out as he told Phoebe all that was special about her and how Kings’ Orchard couldn’t have survived in Maine without her, let alone thrived and made a profit.

As he talked, he realized she’d rarely stepped into the orchard, but she was as much a part of making the farm and new settlement a success as anyone.

When Jacob heard Steven coming down the hall talking, he put his hand in hers and told her a final good-bye.

TWENTY-FOUR

Winds played across the orchard, and Leah took a deep breath of the crisp evening air. Despite Jacob and her spending most of last night in the loft talking, she didn’t feel exhausted today. With every move she made, she prayed for Phoebe, and she knew many Amish were doing the same.

Crist was just over the hill at the start of several mounds, setting rodent traps. Leah tugged on the ropes attached to each end of a three-by-three-foot board. Holding on to the ropes the way someone would clutch the chains of a playground swing, she put the board on a fresh piece of ground at the base of the tree and stood on it. This crushed rodent mounds, the ones closest to the tree, which she’d been unable to reach while riding on a toboggan.