Despite Samuel’s manipulation, Rhoda felt the warmth of what Jacob held out to her—a sense of protection and security from the world. But how would he feel about her after tonight’s meeting?
She held his hand tighter as they approached a fork in the path. One trail led to the driveway surrounding the bustling King home, and the other went to the solitude of her herb shed.
Jacob smiled down at her. “You don’t have to go to the house.”
Relief worked its way through her aching shoulders. “Denki.” Even tonight, with visitors coming from all the districts, Jacob gave her what she needed most: solitude over socializing.
“Anytime.” He winked and released her hand. His long strides soon made him disappear over the knoll.
She hurried in the direction of the shed. It housed a month’s experiments she and Samuel had done, but more than that, it had become a frail but definite substitute for her former hiding place—the Morgansville fruit garden that Rueben Glick had destroyed.
While walking past the east end of the barn, she spotted Samuel in the doorway. They were a good rock’s throw away, but their eyes met—like alpha wolves from separate packs.
He understood nothing about her. Which was fine. She didn’t need him to if he would just mind his own business.
She had met Samuel before Jacob and had been drawn to Samuel’s sense of loyalty and love of horticulture. When he asked her to visit Kings’ Orchard and consider becoming a partner, she had confided her darkest secrets to him—the ones he had a right to know before she could in clear conscience accept his invitation. Unlike most people, he hadn’t judged her forewarnings and her mishandling of them as dabblings in witchcraft. In that moment she’d experienced something so powerful it took her breath away.
A sense of freedom from years of isolation and loneliness.
As much as she hated to admit it, Samuel had captured a piece of her heart that day, the way a friend does, extending grace and companionship when they are needed most.
But as it turned out, Jacob was the one who accepted her clumsy and peculiar ways. Unlike Samuel, he had no interest in making sure she ate all her vegetables, so to speak. It wasn’t in him to try to drag her into a situation she hoped to avoid. Instead, he liked making her life easier.
Maybe that’s why Jacob had entered her life—God knew she needed someone to shield her from herself and from people’s negative reactions to her.
Samuel King sure wasn’t going to do that. He would be more likely to incite folks, albeit unknowingly, to want to burn her at the stake.
The shed came into sight, and she longed to disappear inside. Its gray, weathered boards ran vertically, with gaping spaces between them. The tin roof had probably begun rusting before she was born. But she and Samuel had converted it from a storage shed no one had used in years to a building in which they could experiment on growing herbs in the colder Maine climate and ways to speed up the process of biotic decomposition for mulch and compost.
She lifted the wooden door latch and went inside. The outside of the building showed its age, but the inside was a grower’s delight: rows and rows of vibrant herbs with commercial-grade lights hovering above them. The lights were a new thing for her. They simulated sunlight on the vegetation, and while they weren’t as effective as natural light, they helped a great deal. Samuel had set up a car battery to power the lights, but the battery constantly needed recharging. So he had two batteries for swapping out, and he lugged them back and forth between here and the barn, where he’d hook up the drained one to the recharging wires that were connected to a solar panel in the barn. She didn’t know who had originally put the solar panel in the barn years ago, but she knew the Kings had paid for the installation. Getting panels installed in Maine would be another hurdle they’d face once they arrived.
Samuel had also rigged a watering system by running numerous hoses from the barn spigot to the shed. She lifted the hose from its hook and watered the plants.
Samuel could be a lot of help if he’d just stick to what he knew best—plants, not people.
As Rhoda took care of the tender shoots, her heart grew ever heavier. She had let her anger fuel bold statements to Samuel, but she could no more back out of going than he could.
With the last plant watered, she put the nozzle on its nail and grabbed her dirty gardening gloves off a bench. She slid her damp hands into each one and picked up a trowel. Several of the plants were struggling. Could they survive in the moving van from here to Maine, or should she give up on them now?
The door opened, and Samuel stepped inside. Her shoulders tightened, and the ache set in again. She waited for him to say something, but he jammed his hands into his pockets and stared at the plants.
She plucked a half-withered plant from the soil, shook the dirt from its roots, and threw it toward him. He didn’t flinch as it whizzed past him and hit her target—the compost bin—a few inches away.
He shifted. “I know you don’t want to face an official meeting, but Glick needs to be held—”
She slammed the trowel onto the bench, stopping him cold. She kept her eyes on the bench, because if she looked at him, she might well be overcome with anger.
Her life was intertwined with Samuel’s like the roots of a cilantro plant, but did they strengthen each other, as cilantro did, or would he choke the life out of her before they were through?
She drew a deep breath. “What time is the meeting?”
“Seven.”
She uprooted another plant and winged it into the compost pile. The temptation to refuse to attend the meeting was strong, but it had been absurd of her to think she could back out of going to Maine, whether they’d shaken hands on it or not. “Fine.”
“You can prove Glick’s guilt and leave here tomorrow with your community’s respect.”
She suppressed a scoff and managed a nod. “Sure.” She knew better. Rueben had her exactly where he’d wanted her all along—having to face the church leaders.
Samuel moved to the nail in the wall that held a clipboard. “You really don’t think so?”
“No,” she managed to whisper. “I will have no one’s respect when tonight is over.” She turned her back to him. “And certainly not yours or Jacob’s.”
She had wanted to avoid the humiliation of it all for her family’s sake, especially her Daed. He’d spent a lifetime trying to help her navigate the storm-tossed waves of who she was. Rhoda had done her best to hide every forewarning—until the day Emma was killed.
“The district can paint me in any light they want. I don’t care, not for myself. But it breaks my heart to think of what tonight will do to my family and to my Daed most of all.” He was the one others held accountable for who Rhoda was. As the head of the family, he would have clumps of fresh shame thrown at him.
Samuel said nothing, and she turned to look at him. His eyes met hers for a brief moment before he looked at the clipboard and flipped through the information. “He’s like his daughter. Strong enough to stand up and do what’s right.”
Was Samuel right? Did she tend to see her Daed as the broken man he was after Emma died?
Samuel moved to a raised bed of mint herbs—peppermint, Kentucky Colonel, and apple mint—and plunged his fingers into the soil. Some were doing well. Others would be tossed into the compost pile to become additives in the mulch they were creating to spread on the Maine apple orchard.
He rubbed his fingertips together, studying the soil. “Do you want me to begin loading them on the moving van?”
She shook her head. “Not yet.” That’s all she needed to tell him. He didn’t require an explanation that she wanted them to have the benefit of a few more hours under the lamps. He trusted her opinion about plants.
Did he have any idea what he’d done? She had trusted him. Even more sad than the injustice that would be doled out to her and her family tonight was knowing she could never turn to Samuel again—the man she had dared to confide in more than any other.
He brushed his hands together, scattering dark soil onto the packed dirt floor. “I know the timing of the meeting is horrible, and you’re angry, but someone has to stand up to Glick, and you’re strong enough to do it. If you don’t go tonight, your brother and his family won’t be able to leave tomorrow.”
“What?”
“That’s the biggest part of the message Daed was trying to get to me when he sent Jacob to find me.”
Her heart palpitated. “Whatever else is going on, the church leaders intend for me to be at this last-minute meeting.”
He closed his eyes, shaking his head. “Rhodes …” His gentle tone reminded her of the day she’d told him her secrets. He’d been kind and supportive. She’d never had that before, not from someone outside her family.
She removed her gloves. “Since we voted to buy that abandoned farm and apple orchard, you’ve been distant or difficult or both. You don’t listen to what I have to say except when it comes to horticulture.”
He returned his attention to the clipboard. “Let’s stay focused on the problem at hand. If I can find Eli in time, he’ll be there to tell about Rueben pumping him with questions to find out when you and your family would be gone.”
“I haven’t seen him since breakfast.”
“He’s hanging out with his friends, using his last day of freedom somewhere.”
“On our final day here?”
“Since he’s not going to Maine, he thinks that his responsibilities concerning the farm will triple once we leave tomorrow. So he ducked out on helping us pack, but he plans on being home around eight tonight to say good-bye.” Samuel grimaced. “Unfortunately, that’s probably too late to help at the meeting. But I’m hoping to find him. If I can’t, I know Jacob’s calm reasoning will go a long way in clearing the air.”
She hated the idea of Jacob seeing what all would take place tonight. But Samuel was right. He’d be a good one to have there—calm, friendly, and able to help others see his points.
“That’s it? I tell you that you’ve put wedges between us at every turn, and you simply move on to a different subject?”
His brown eyes held an apology. “Our relationship isn’t the important one. I haven’t interfered with you and Jacob, so rather than looking at what I’ve caused between us, look at what you have with Jacob. I want that for you. And for him.” He squashed a large brown spider under his boot. “Trust me on that.”
“I wasn’t questioning that.” Clearly she’d struck a nerve, although an active volcano would freeze over before she could figure out why. “My point is that I need to know what’s happening between us. I deserve for you to dig deep and explain some tiny part of it.”
Could he see that he’d removed something she treasured—her ability to rely on him as a friend? Even though he’d divulged a secret to her church leaders, she longed to be able to trust him again. She wanted a sincere apology and a promise that he would never again break her confidence. Why was that so hard?
He removed his hat. “Tonight’s meeting is likely to ensure we’ll be up all night packing. You should try to eat a little something and rest a bit beforehand. I’ll tell Landon he needs to drive us to the meeting, and I’ll meet you at his truck at six this evening.”
She’d hoped their argument would bring understanding and clear the air, but that apparently wasn’t going to happen. “What’s the plan if the church leaders take away my right to go to Maine?”
“They won’t. I’m sure of it.” He left, and the door banged against its frame.
She closed her eyes as fear seeped through her. Having Samuel at the meeting would be bad enough, but would Jacob ever look at her the same way after he saw her as her district did?