The cool, hard floor of the small bedroom motivated Rhoda to get up despite her exhaustion. Her eyes felt too dry to keep open, but she caught glimpses of the room as she grabbed the dried branches she’d collected last night and tossed them onto the fire. Leah, Phoebe, and the little ones were shapeless lumps under blankets near her. Even their heads were under the covers.
What time was it? She had no way of knowing. Probably three or four in the morning. The faint glow from the hearth gave her enough light to see. She stoked the fire. Sparks flew. Wood shifted. Flames danced. Long shadows twisted ordinary lines and corners in the room. The quietness seemed to take on sounds all its own, like the whisper of a child.
Tell them.
She closed her eyes, tears welling. Please, God. Not again, please, not ever again.
A howl sent a shiver up her spine. She wasn’t sure, but it sounded like wolves. Maybe coyotes.
She set the poker next to the hearth and moved to the window. The leaves of mostly barren apple trees eased to and fro in the wind. She rested her forehead against the window frame, desperate to be as normal as a tree in an orchard. Why couldn’t she be like those around her?
One long howl became two, maybe three. Wolves or coyotes. She didn’t see any dogs. Wasn’t that how life worked for her? Eerie sounds with no visible source. Between the howls came whispers. A child’s indistinct pleas turned deep, as if he had grown up within those few seconds.
Rhoda wasn’t positive she was even awake.
Phoebe stirred a bit, and her hand reached from under the blankets and touched her son, feeling and then tugging the quilt to make sure it was covering Isaac. She rolled over and did the same for her little girl. Then she curled up under the warmth of her blanket and grew still.
Love. It ruled most women’s hearts, and Rhoda often felt its void as other things filled her soul. Like longing and loneliness. Gardening gave her something to pour her love into, and it was a distraction from her isolation. But that was before joining Kings’ Orchard and meeting Jacob. Was tonight a sign of what was to come?
At least Jacob had sent a message, even if it was cryptic and gave her cause for concern.
Apparently she was awake, because even her dreams weren’t this restless. She’d best leave the room before she woke the others. She tiptoed down the narrow stairs, the house creaking and groaning with every step. Eeriness followed her. It hadn’t the first time she came here, when Jacob was by her side.
The night closed in on her, bringing fear. How was the dark able to do what day could not? The night didn’t have that power often, but when it did …
Why wasn’t Jacob here? He had a way of making anxiety and anger disappear. His presence was like a drug. The world would start to close in, with screeches and threats of pain, and he’d smile or crack a joke or give her a glimpse of the sadness that he carried with such determination.
She felt strong again. Less alone in her own struggles.
Turning the corner of the short landing, she saw a moonlit shadow move across the wooden floor. The silhouette sprang from the floor and became real, suddenly inches from her!
She screamed.
“Rhoda, it’s me.”
Her heart leaped, fear still pounding.
“Samuel.” She melted against him, her breathless word echoing like the children’s voices in her mind. He put a hand under her elbows, pushing her away.
“It’s okay,” he assured her as he eased her onto the stairs. Even with just a quarter moon, the room was bathed in a silvery glow.
It seemed unfair for eeriness to start again. She had moved seven hundred miles from where Emma had died, yet the voices had followed her. The taunting. The isolation. She had no one and nothing to turn to for refuge, not even her garden.
Samuel backed up, his mannerisms stiff. “You okay?”
She tried to find her voice. “I will be. The stress and lack of sleep have given way to unfounded anxiety and wild imaginations. Where’s Landon?”
“After we picked up a few groceries, he dropped me off, disconnected the trailer, and went to his granny’s. Jacob?”
She shrugged. “Not here.”
“What?” His eyes bore into hers.
“He left a message with Erlene. He hopes to be here in a few days. Where is he? What would pull him away like this?”
Samuel shook his head, jaw clenched. “I can’t say anything. I’ve told you that, but Steven’s here, right?”
She shook her head.
“What happened that even your brother isn’t here?” He sighed. “Never mind.”
A wild dog howled, and Rhoda jolted, losing the tad of composure she’d gained only moments ago.
“You are rattled.” He sat next to her. “Take slow, deep breaths.”
“You’ve been here less than two minutes, and already you’re telling me what to do.” Somehow, jabbing at him made bits of anxiety dissolve.
“Don’t listen to me, then. Take a quick breath and hold it. And just keep holding it.”
She laughed. “Denki.”
“I’m here to help in any way I can.”
Samuel seemed different somehow. No less burdened, if that was the right word, but changed. She couldn’t help but chuckle. “I do believe I just caught a glimpse of the real Samuel King for the first time in too long.”
“Ya. Leave it to me to show up every full moon.”
“It’s a crescent, not even close to full.”
“Leave it to you to walk all over my efforts to be witty.”
“Sorry.”
He released a heavy breath. “Ya, Rhoda, me too.” The sincerity in his voice said far more than he ever would in words. This was not an apology for how hard her day and night had been or for refusing to tell her anything about Jacob or for not devising a backup plan for the three women and two children once he knew Jacob wasn’t traveling with them. It went deeper.
She stared into the soft darkness between them, trying to see beyond the mask he usually wore.
He sighed. “We had a flat tire and no spare about halfway here. I stayed with the truck while Landon went with a roadside-assistance man to get the tire repaired. The long wait gave me too much time to think.” His eyes met hers. “It’s not your fault, but I’ve been taking things out on you. I’m sorry.”
She couldn’t budge. He must have had a God moment somewhere along the line to be so vulnerable.
“And rather than working with you when you’re wrong,”—Rhoda swallowed, finding it difficult to apologize—“I’ve been acting like ‘you’re not the boss of me.’ And I regret responding so childishly. But you took something from me when you went behind my back and wrote that letter. I know you’re sorry I got hurt, but what would mean more is if you could tell me you’ll never do that to me again.”
“I don’t know what you mean. What is it you want?”
Could he cope with her answer, or would he get frustrated and shut her out? She wanted to lean in and whisper, “It’s started.” When he asked what she meant, she’d tell him about the children’s voices and the eerie feeling and even the words Tell them, whatever that meant.
She met his gaze. “To be able to confide in you again.”
He stared at her. “You have Jacob for that.” He stretched his legs and stood. “But I’d like for us to work together without snapping and growling at each other. Okay?”
She nodded.
He pulled a candle, its holder, and a lighter out of his coat pocket. “I need to unload the trailer.” He pushed the candle into its holder, lit it, and passed it to her.
The flame cast a circular glow, causing a surprising abundance of shadows for the small gleam of light. Samuel opened the back door, and a wind rushed through the room. The flame danced, as did the silhouettes.
She had the kind of God-understanding from Samuel that she’d been looking for, and yet she was even more empty-handed. Beforehand, she had frustration mingled with the hope that he’d finally and fully understand. Now he saw clearly, but he had shut the door on her talking to him like a trusted friend.
Why?
She’d spent most of her life being isolated in one form or another from those she shared a home with. Apparently life in Maine was going to have a lot of similarities to her former life in Pennsylvania.
She hadn’t banked on that.
Landon put his cell phone into his pocket. Rhoda’s brother had to be very skilled at finding phones to call from. It was the third update from Steven this morning, and each call had come from a different number.
Landon got into his truck, glad the calls gave him an excuse to see Leah this morning. Even before he overheard part of the argument between her and Michael, he’d thought she was spunky and cute. His attraction to her surprised him, because girls in Amish clothing with their hair pulled back just didn’t appeal to him. Well, aside from the friendship he had with Rhoda. But once he learned Leah intended to leave the Amish when the time was right, his reservations melted. About half of them anyway.
Leah wouldn’t turn eighteen until January, so she was four years younger. That rattled him a bit. But he knew from his time around Rhoda’s family that the Amish had no issue with a four-year age difference, or even more, between a man and woman. Amish girls saw life differently than the non-Amish ones did. The idea of getting married at eighteen, nineteen, or twenty was the norm. But he wasn’t considering marriage or even dating—yet.
He realized that Leah’s family and even Rhoda might take issue with him, as a non-Amish guy, wanting to get close to Leah. But first things first. Was Leah interested in hanging out? If she wasn’t, none of his other questions mattered.
He pulled up in front of the house. Was it going to be called the King home or the Byler home? The new place needed a name. Since the little town was named Orchard Bend, maybe Orchard Bend Farm was a good name for it.
He parked his truck and strode across the yard, crunching dead leaves as he went. Sunlight stretched across the dewy grass. He saw no one, and the front door was closed. He knocked and waited.
Leah opened it, a grin welcoming him. “If you can’t get here on time, get here when you can. Come on in.”
“Denki.” He hoped he had the correct accent for the simple thank-you. He tipped his cap. “I think I will.”
She turned and went toward the kitchen.
He followed her. “I wasn’t sure what time everyone would be up.”
“You’re about two hours late for that.”
She picked up an unopened box and tapped another one with the toe of her shoe. He grabbed the second box.
“You’ve been up since six?”
“Best I can figure. We’ve yet to find a clock. And from now on, don’t knock. I had to stop what I was doing to answer the door.”
“Those are extremely bold instructions. What if the others don’t feel the same way?”
Leah stepped into the kitchen, and three other adults glanced his way—Rhoda, Samuel, and Phoebe—all of them standing and eating toast and boiled eggs.
Leah put a box on the counter. “Anyone here mind if Landon comes and goes without knocking?”
Samuel picked up his mug. “It is a strange feeling, isn’t it?” He took a sip of his coffee. “Last night I wasn’t sure whether to knock, enter, or sleep on the porch.”
“He went with a fourth option,” Rhoda said.
Samuel’s brows knit. “I did?”
“Ya.” Rhoda glanced at Landon and rolled her eyes. “Scaring me half to death.”
A slight grimace shadowed Samuel’s face before he set his mug on the counter. “That doesn’t count as a fourth option. Your reaction was a result of my second choice, which was to enter.”
“It counts.” Rhoda tossed pieces of toast and eggs into a bowl of what looked like scraps for her compost pile.
Landon put down the box. “I heard from Steven. He sends his love to Phoebe.”
Phoebe smiled, her cheeks pinking. “Denki.”
“He said to assure you that he’ll be here as soon as he can. The man who was supposed to meet him with the cattle trailers hasn’t shown up yet. They had to move the livestock to a holding place, but Steven’s talked to the man, and despite the delays, he expects to be here by nightfall with the livestock and the carriages.”
“Thanks, Landon.” Samuel put his plate in the sink. “It helps to have someone with a cell phone.”
“Glad to help.”
“No news from the moving van driver?” Samuel asked.
“Not yet. And none from Jacob.”
Rhoda didn’t bat an eye, but Landon knew that Jacob’s sudden departure weighed heavy.
She offered him a smile. “Care for some breakfast?”
“I’ve eaten. How’d you fix boiled eggs and toast if there’s no electricity and no gas?”
Leah gestured toward the fireplace. “We used the pot hanging on one of the cranes, added water, and used the eggs Samuel brought.”
“Interesting.” Landon opened a box of kitchen items. “I was going to see if anyone wanted to go to Granny’s for breakfast, but I guess not.”
“That’s really nice.” Rhoda set her plate in the sink. “But we’ve got too much to do. Your granny brought us potato-leek soup with a loaf of sourdough bread for dinner last night. It was so delicious. We put it on ice, and we’ll have that for lunch. Maybe we’ll have enough for dinner too.”
Samuel retrieved a pad and pen from a nearby box. “Could I use your phone? We need gas for the propane tank, a phone installed, and—”
“Wait.” Rhoda glanced around the room. “I just now realized we don’t have a phone shanty.”
“I figure we’ll put it in the barn, maybe build an office, sort of like what we have at Kings’ Orchard. But we need a phone before we can do all that.”
Landon put his phone on the table beside Samuel. “It’s Saturday. You might be able to place an order for a phone, but you can’t get the propane tank filled until Monday.”
“Using his cell phone won’t be a problem?” Phoebe bit her lip. “You know, with those you’re reporting to.” Her brows furrowed. “Who are you reporting to until we establish our own church leaders?”
“My bishop.” Samuel took a sip of his coffee. “And he won’t mind me using a cell phone while we get established. In Lancaster, Amish men use them regularly during the workday and turn them off when they get home. Are you worried about what our reports will say?”
Landon raised his hand. “I am.” He nodded toward Rhoda, giving Samuel a clue as to what he meant, but she had her back to them, washing dishes. “Look, if you turn in reports about every bit of trouble we’ve had—from our problem with the tire to whatever is holding up Steven to Jacob’s not making the train—it’s going to sound as if we’re having nothing but bad luck.”
“That’s nonsense.” Leah placed several pots on the counter.
“Actually, it makes sense.” Samuel focused on the legal pad. “I see no reason to share anything more than necessary.”
That was a relief. Landon hoped this would be the new start all of them needed, the Kings and the Bylers. He didn’t want anything to bring fresh problems for Rhoda or for the new settlement. Would it cause trouble if he used this new venture in Maine to get to know Leah a little better? Through the kitchen window he caught a glimpse of the moving van backing into the driveway.
“The furniture has arrived!”
“Bedroom furniture.” Leah’s eyes lit up, and she peered through the window. “For my bedroom, just for me.” She beamed at Landon, and he returned her smile.
He’d never had to share a bedroom, and he imagined that Leah’s getting one of her own at almost eighteen was quite exciting.
She hurried to the front porch.
“She’s got her priorities all wrong.” Rhoda laughed and grabbed a kitchen towel as she and the rest followed on Leah’s heels.
On the porch, Rhoda dried her hands on the towel. “The truck has herbs, homegrown mulch, and garden tools.”
Phoebe mocked frustration with a loud sigh. “You’re both excited about the wrong things. It has clothing, bedding, and toys for my little ones. They’d love to have their favorite toys when they wake up.”
Samuel crossed his arms, but Landon could tell he was pleased. “What that van has is about six or more hours of unloading, stacking it wherever, and weeks of sorting.”
“Ya.” Rhoda flicked the towel at Samuel. “It has that too, but admit it. I’m right about the most important stuff.”
Samuel looked at Landon. “Does she make you admit when she’s right?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never known her to be right.”
Samuel laughed. “Me either, but that doesn’t keep her from trying to get me to say she is.”
Rhoda scowled at them. “You both get entirely too cheeky when something as simple as a mover pulls into the driveway.”
Landon went down the steps and guided the driver toward the house. Then he held up his hands. “Whoa.”
The van stopped, and the engine turned off. Landon turned back to the others. “You know what I think?”
“No, but we have no doubt you’ll tell us,” Leah chirped.
“I think you Amish, for all your simple ways, really missed having furniture last night.”
“What do you know?” Leah came down the steps. “The man is smarter than he looks.” She smiled, moving in closer. “And when a man looks like you do,” she whispered, “that’s saying a lot.”
He glanced at the others. Had they heard what she said? Just how bold could they be about the sparks that flew between them? But the others were chatting and approaching the driver as he was getting out of the cab.
Landon chuckled. “Is it? I’m waiting for you to correct your last statement by saying, ‘I meant, that’s not saying a lot.’ ”
Leah said nothing, but her mischievous grin had his heart pounding. Was she old enough to know whether she truly wished to leave the Amish when the time came? Or was he setting himself up for some serious disappointment?