Samuel stood in the yard, stacking wood into the crook of his arm at the pace of a slug. Three nights ago he’d had an uneasy feeling about Rhoda, so he’d done something he’d never done before—he had tapped on her bedroom door. It’d been almost midnight, and when she didn’t answer, he’d opened it, expecting to see her asleep.
She wasn’t there, and it had sent shock waves of fear through him.
Hours earlier, Steven had said that Rhoda had gone for a walk. When Samuel found her bedroom empty, he rushed through the house and then the greenhouses, looking for her, fear mounting. He resisted the urge to panic and didn’t call Landon or knock on Steven’s door. Instead, he bridled his horse and went to the Cranfords’ home. But they hadn’t seen her. He borrowed a flashlight from them and set out to find her, praying as he’d never prayed before. It wasn’t his nature to panic easily, but if he hadn’t found her soon, he was going to call the police and also ask every neighbor to help look for her.
Could she have survived a night in the woods with the temperature dipping into the low teens?
If she had died, where would all his determination to stay away from her have gotten him?
Grief-stricken for life—that’s where.
Samuel went up the porch steps, stomped snow off his boots, and carried the wood inside to the kitchen.
Rhoda stood at the sink, washing dishes, bathed in soft light from the fireplace and a gas pole light.
He put the pieces into the woodbin as slowly as he had collected them. What could he say to her to help? “I think daylight is about three hours long lately.” That’s it, Samuel. Act like everything is normal. That ought to help her. His sarcasm rang inside his head, but the truth was he didn’t know what else to do.
“Seems like.” Her voice was distant, and he wasn’t sure she had even heard him.
Why would he, someone who rarely felt an inkling from God to do anything, know that he needed to check on her?
But she was safe now, without the need to alert the police and draw even more attention to the Orchard Bend Amish. The question that lingered was how should he handle himself around her.
When he’d first realized he loved her, he pushed her away through rudeness and arguing. That didn’t work out, so his next move had been to stuff his feelings down deep and avoid her. Last night that could have cost her life. So now what?
Should he continue trying to protect the relationship between Rhoda and Jacob? Didn’t his brother need to do that for himself? But no-o-o. He was with Sandra. It was ridiculous.
On the other hand, Jacob had good reason to be gone this time—to protect Rhoda’s reputation during the police investigation.
Samuel’s defenses had taken numerous hits, but he had to maintain his loyalty to Jacob. If he continued cautiously, he was confident this season would be behind them soon enough. Rhoda would be cleared. Jacob would come home. All Samuel had to do was stand firm against every temptation.
He finished unloading the wood into the bin and added a couple of sticks to the fire. He grabbed the poker and stoked the flames. “I didn’t want to say anything in front of the others, but I was surprised when Landon didn’t stay for that belated Valentine’s Day meal. I think Phoebe was disappointed. She’s quite the cook, and tonight was every bit the feast that the Thanksgiving and Christmas meals were.”
“Ya.” Rhoda had been withdrawn and too quiet since returning from being fingerprinted at the police station.
Samuel still wanted to keep some distance between Rhoda and him, so he hadn’t gone with her to the police station. Landon had taken her and stayed by her side throughout, but she had returned home sapped of all energy. Samuel didn’t know why it’d knocked the air out of her.
He wished they would get the results of those tests back quickly—tomorrow! But it would probably be weeks from now. Orchard Bend didn’t have the equipment to run those tests, so it was being sent elsewhere … and probably sitting around, waiting its turn.
He wondered how well Jacob was coping. The newspapers had something almost weekly about the investigation. According to Landon, the local news stations were covering it too.
Samuel moved to the woodbin and brushed off dirt and debris from his jacket before he removed it and rolled up his shirt sleeves. He intended to help with the dishes unless she ran him off.
Nicole had come by to check on them today while Rhoda was gone, and Samuel talked with her for a bit before he asked her not to drop by for a while. He wasn’t completely sure why he had asked that, but they were done with their work, and he wanted to close ranks around Rhoda, to make this time as easy on her as he could. If Rhoda liked Nicole, he wouldn’t have asked her to stop coming. But she didn’t. How did he know that? How did he know she was missing three nights ago?
If Rhoda had ever needed Jacob, it was now. The burdens on her were heavy, and Jacob had a way of making them lighter. Something Samuel couldn’t do even if he dared to try.
Despite the newspaper articles on the saga, Rhoda was left alone, as if the townsfolk and the neighbors knew something was strange about this whole mess. A few naysayers made ugly remarks about the Amish in general and wanted the law to prosecute her just because she was Amish. Some people had hate for anyone and everyone. He’d never understand that. Officer Smyth said everyone on the police force and in the district attorney’s office was leery about arresting an Amish woman who seemed as clean-cut as anyone they’d ever seen. The evidence to arrest her just wasn’t there, and yet it could be if they kept digging.
How was that possible?
If she felt free to ask her Daed to come for a visit, it would bring much-needed comfort and support, but she said he was too honest to keep quiet about Jacob. So when she talked to her Daed on the phone, she assured him that she was fine and that he needed to wait until spring to visit.
He moved in closer to the sink. “I’m glad we were along for the ride on Phoebe’s belated Valentine’s Day dinner.” He held out his hands. “May I?”
She took a step back while he rinsed his hands in the empty side of the dual sink.
After the Valentine’s Day meal, Rhoda had insisted Phoebe and Leah take the rest of the night off. Leah was thrilled because she had almost finished reading one of her books. Phoebe and Steven were upstairs in their suite, enjoying some quiet time.
Rhoda hadn’t responded to his comment about Landon’s not being there.
Samuel grabbed a towel and picked up a plate from the dish drainer. “And Landon, why didn’t he stay?”
She shrugged. “He’s still angry at me.”
“At you? Why didn’t I know about this?”
Silence.
“Rhodes.” He nudged her shoulder with his. “It’s going to be okay. All of it—this mess with the law and those teens will be over soon. Jacob will return. Even the conflict with Landon will melt away. Life will be good again.”
“Ya. Maybe.”
Maybe?
“So why is Landon angry with you?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Samuel set the dishtowel on the counter, reached to take her by both arms, and slowly turned her toward him. She didn’t resist, but once facing him, she stared at the buttons on his shirt. The sadness etched on her face tugged at his heart. If he could fix the situation for her, he would. He would swap with Jacob. Investigate those teens himself. Make Landon a partner. Whatever it took.
Why had the police station rattled her so? Or had she picked up on what her future held?
“Can you look at me?”
She pulled away and grabbed a washrag. “Could you let me do the dishes by myself, please?”
His brother was witless. How could he stay gone at a time like this?
She swiped the dishrag across the kitchen table. “I’ll feel more like myself tomorrow. Okay?”
“Ya. Sure.” He went to the hearth and stoked the fire one last time. “Look.” He put the poker back in its place. “I don’t want to decide what’s best for you anymore. I learned that the hard way, so if you really want to be left alone, I’ll go. But I think you need to talk. And it’s okay to cry.”
“Ya?” She threw the rag onto the table. “So when’s the last time you broke down while talking to someone?” Her voice cracked, and he could only hope she didn’t demand he leave.
“I read something one time. I’m not sure where, but it stuck to me like superglue. It said, ‘A woman who tries to be like a man is a waste of a good woman.’ ” He rested his hands on the back of a kitchen chair. “And if you don’t trust me about anything else, do so on this one thing—you are a truly good woman.”
Her chin quivered, and he got the dishtowel off the sink and held it out to her.
She laughed, tears spilling down her cheeks as she took it from him. “It’s just too much. All of it. You know?”
“I know.”
She took a deep breath. “I can’t do one thing without it becoming some huge, ridiculous ordeal—Rueben, partnering with your family and the tornado destroying most of the crop and trees, this new beginning—nothing.”
“It does seem that way, but this is just a really tough season—for some reason.”
She stood there, saying nothing.
“Tell me what I can do to help.”
She shrugged. “I’m fine.”
“You sure?”
She shook her head. “I met my public defender today. She’s young and seemed as scattered and confused about this whole thing as we are—and with way too much of a workload to have time to dig for answers. To make it worse, while at the police station, I saw something.”
“Saw?”
She touched her temple. “In here.”
He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what she’d seen, but now he knew what had her weighed down. “What did you see?”
She drew a ragged breath. “My fingerprints will be found on those bags.”
“What? How is that possible?”
“I’m not sure. Somehow someone took them off something else and put them there.”
“The girls?”
“Maybe. But I think someone with power slid a lot of money to someone with access to the fingerprints.”
“Landon said Gretchen’s family is wealthy. We’ll fight this. I’ll take out a second mortgage, and we’ll hire our own—”
“Could you …”
When she didn’t finish her sentence, he answered, “Ya, I can.” He folded his arms. “Name it.”
“Wrap your arms around me for a minute?”
He stepped forward, and when he embraced her, she leaned on his chest and sobbed.
How long had he waited to hold her? But not like this, not while she was brokenhearted, and he felt a warm tear slide down his face. “Great,” he whispered. “Now you have us both crying.”
She cried harder.
“It’s going to be okay, Rhodes.” He cradled her against his chest.
“What if they don’t get it straight? What if I go to jail for this?”
“You won’t.” He had never wanted to promise anything so badly in his life, but he wouldn’t. He couldn’t promise it. “This will get straightened out, and when it does, I’m going to say, ‘I told you so.’ Hear me, Rhoda Byler? I’ll get to say, ‘I told you so!’ And maybe, if I’m lucky, you’ll figure out something to argue with me about.”
Her breathing slowed, but she didn’t let go of him. If only she never would.
If God didn’t ever let him be right about anything else, he prayed God would make him right about this one thing: the police would get this mess straightened out.
And Rhoda would be able to smile again.