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Authors: Cindy Woodsmall
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so plain was tasteless.
If she had to lock herself in a cellar, she would never be that girl again.
With most of the old furniture and file cabinets now on the moving van, Samuel sat in the half-empty barn office, a phone to his ear. No matter who he’d called, he had yet to find anyone who knew where Eli was.
Samuel’s mind buzzed with ideas. His uncle was a preacher, and since Rhoda felt her church leaders weren’t on her side, maybe it would help if at least Samuel’s uncle was there. He dialed his uncle Mervin and left a voice mail on the machine. Surely someone would check the phone shanty for messages soon.
What most concerned him was how Rhoda would cope with the added stress of tonight’s meeting. He put the receiver in its cradle.
Why, God? Why did I have to fall in love with her?
Temptation. That had to be it. Samuel was being tempted to follow his emotions and, in so doing, ruin dozens of relationships. If his Daed or family caught wind of it, they would blame Rhoda. Just what she needed—more reasons for people to be set against her.
No. He would not give in to the enticement of wanting her love.
The phone rang, and he grabbed it. “Hallo?”
“I’m here.”
Samuel didn’t recognize the woman’s voice, but her hoarse whisper made the hair on his arms stand up. “Excuse me?” He elongated the last word.
She sobbed. “No jokes. No teasing. Not now.” She had to be Englisch, otherwise she would respond to his hallo in Pennsylvania Dutch.
“I … I’m sorry, but …” On the phone Samuel was often mistaken for Jacob and vice versa. Was that who she thought she was talking to? He checked the caller ID. Unknown.
“I left everything behind, just as you said, and I’m where you said to go. You have to get us into hiding like you promised. And I need you to come tonight.”
“I think you have the wrong number.”
“Jacob?”
“Oh.” Samuel wasn’t sure where his brother was. Maybe he’d left the farm with Rhoda, or he might be at the house or the summer kitchen. “He’s not here right now. This is Samuel. Can I take a—”
“Tell him what I said.” The line went dead, and Samuel stared at the receiver.
He knew very little about Jacob’s days living among the Englisch. After years of living and working for their uncle in Lancaster, Jacob had left at nineteen years old and had taken various construction jobs so he could travel at will. Two years later he returned home—busted up pretty bad and wearing a cast on one leg. All Jacob said was he’d been in an accident. To this day that’s all Samuel knew.
He left the office, planning his search. When they moved to Maine, Samuel wanted walkie-talkies the first week. Here in Harvest Mills those devices weren’t allowed, but one upside of starting the new settlement was that they could establish a few new rules because initially there would be no church leaders. Hopefully, when ministers were appointed, they wouldn’t revoke what Samuel had put in place.
It didn’t take long to find Jacob. He was in the living room, in the midst of a group of older men, regaling them with stories until each one would be grateful for the chance to support the new colony with their gifts and prayers.
“Jacob.” Samuel motioned for him. They didn’t speak until they were outside. “A woman called, an Englisch one. She thought I was you and said something about you had to get her into hiding.”
Jacob’s eyes grew large, and he started toward the barn. “Where is she?”
“I don’t know,” Samuel said, keeping pace with him.
“She said I had to get her into hiding?”
“Ya.”
“Just her?”
“What do you mean?”
Jacob went into the barn office and jerked up the phone. “Think, Samuel. Did she use the word her or us ?”
“Oh. She said us.”
Jacob let out a long stream of breath, clearly relieved. He punched numbers hard and waited. “She had to say something about where she is.”
“Only that she’s where you
If she had to lock herself in a cellar, she would never be that girl again.
With most of the old furniture and file cabinets now on the moving van, Samuel sat in the half-empty barn office, a phone to his ear. No matter who he’d called, he had yet to find anyone who knew where Eli was.
Samuel’s mind buzzed with ideas. His uncle was a preacher, and since Rhoda felt her church leaders weren’t on her side, maybe it would help if at least Samuel’s uncle was there. He dialed his uncle Mervin and left a voice mail on the machine. Surely someone would check the phone shanty for messages soon.
What most concerned him was how Rhoda would cope with the added stress of tonight’s meeting. He put the receiver in its cradle.
Why, God? Why did I have to fall in love with her?
Temptation. That had to be it. Samuel was being tempted to follow his emotions and, in so doing, ruin dozens of relationships. If his Daed or family caught wind of it, they would blame Rhoda. Just what she needed—more reasons for people to be set against her.
No. He would not give in to the enticement of wanting her love.
The phone rang, and he grabbed it. “Hallo?”
“I’m here.”
Samuel didn’t recognize the woman’s voice, but her hoarse whisper made the hair on his arms stand up. “Excuse me?” He elongated the last word.
She sobbed. “No jokes. No teasing. Not now.” She had to be Englisch, otherwise she would respond to his hallo in Pennsylvania Dutch.
“I … I’m sorry, but …” On the phone Samuel was often mistaken for Jacob and vice versa. Was that who she thought she was talking to? He checked the caller ID. Unknown.
“I left everything behind, just as you said, and I’m where you said to go. You have to get us into hiding like you promised. And I need you to come tonight.”
“I think you have the wrong number.”
“Jacob?”
“Oh.” Samuel wasn’t sure where his brother was. Maybe he’d left the farm with Rhoda, or he might be at the house or the summer kitchen. “He’s not here right now. This is Samuel. Can I take a—”
“Tell him what I said.” The line went dead, and Samuel stared at the receiver.
He knew very little about Jacob’s days living among the Englisch. After years of living and working for their uncle in Lancaster, Jacob had left at nineteen years old and had taken various construction jobs so he could travel at will. Two years later he returned home—busted up pretty bad and wearing a cast on one leg. All Jacob said was he’d been in an accident. To this day that’s all Samuel knew.
He left the office, planning his search. When they moved to Maine, Samuel wanted walkie-talkies the first week. Here in Harvest Mills those devices weren’t allowed, but one upside of starting the new settlement was that they could establish a few new rules because initially there would be no church leaders. Hopefully, when ministers were appointed, they wouldn’t revoke what Samuel had put in place.
It didn’t take long to find Jacob. He was in the living room, in the midst of a group of older men, regaling them with stories until each one would be grateful for the chance to support the new colony with their gifts and prayers.
“Jacob.” Samuel motioned for him. They didn’t speak until they were outside. “A woman called, an Englisch one. She thought I was you and said something about you had to get her into hiding.”
Jacob’s eyes grew large, and he started toward the barn. “Where is she?”
“I don’t know,” Samuel said, keeping pace with him.
“She said I had to get her into hiding?”
“Ya.”
“Just her?”
“What do you mean?”
Jacob went into the barn office and jerked up the phone. “Think, Samuel. Did she use the word her or us ?”
“Oh. She said us.”
Jacob let out a long stream of breath, clearly relieved. He punched numbers hard and waited. “She had to say something about where she is.”
“Only that she’s where you
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