Amish Romance: The Accident: A Hollybrook Amish Romance Clean & Wholesome Story (Rhoda's Story Book 2) Read online

  The Accident

  Hollybrook Amish Romance: Rhoda’s Story #2

  Brenda Maxfield

  Contents

  Personal Word from the Author

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Continue Reading…

  Thank you for Reading

  More Hollybrook Amish Romances for You

  About the Author

  Personal Word from the Author

  Dearest Readers,

  Thank you so much for reading one of my books! Your kinds words and loving readership make my day. As a thank you, I would like to give you a simple gift of my two favorite Amish recipes and keep you up-to-date with new releases and special offers.

  Click Here To Get Your Free Recipes

  Copyright © 2017 by Tica House Publishing LLC

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Chapter 1

  For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

  Romans 8:38-39 (KJV)

  Rhoda stood at the window, looking out on the frozen ground. The dishtowel in her hand was twisted into a tight loop. She glanced up at the kitchen clock and blew out her breath. It was nearly time to go.

  Mamm would be waiting for her. She was probably driving Rhoda’s sister Donna crazy with her prattle. Mamm wasn’t a big talker, but lately, she’d been repeating herself so frequently that her lips were rarely quiet.

  Rhoda was actually relieved to be picking up her mother and bringing her back home. She thought that Mamm staying with Donna and her family had been a crazy idea from the start. Donna had planned for Mamm to help with her four kinner, especially the boppli.

  When Rhoda tried to explain to Donna that their mother simply wasn’t up to it, her sister had balked, practically accusing Rhoda of hoarding Mamm for herself.

  Ridiculous.

  Rhoda’s prediction had played out. Mamm had been more trouble than she was worth. Almost as if Donna had five kinner to care for instead of four.

  Rhoda shook her head. The whole situation was regrettable no matter how one looked at it. Mamm’s health and well-being were failing. Not just physically, either. Her mental health seemed to be slipping faster than her body’s health.

  And on top of it all, Donna was somewhat of a mess, which seriously skewed her judgment.

  Being single, Rhoda had no idea of the pressures involved in raising a brood of children, so she could hardly criticize her sister. Not that she would have criticized her anyway.

  Their older sister Martha seemed to do all right with her young ones. And their brother Bart had a tough, energetic wife who probably could have conquered a mountain ten minutes after the birth of each of their children.

  Rhoda gave a sardonic laugh and then hurried to the wash room to put on her cape. She wrapped a scarf around her neck and pulled on her mittens. She picked up a thick quilt to bring along to wrap around Mamm on the trip home. She should have heated bricks for her feet, but there wasn’t time now.

  She rushed out into the frigid air and ran across the yard to the barn. She’d already seen to the animals and checked on her beehives that morning. It was just as well that her bees didn’t require much care during the cold months. Although, she did miss them buzzing about. She rolled her eyes as she pushed open the heavy barn door.

  Miss her bees buzzing about? How pathetic could she get?

  She made quick work of hitching Feisty to the pony cart, and within minutes, she was on her way to Donna’s. When she drove onto her sister’s property, she saw the front screen door open and her Mamm standing on the threshold, thin and stooped. The elderly woman barely had time to wave at Rhoda before Donna came outside and snatched her back into the house.

  Rhoda pulled up to the porch, secured the reins, and went inside.

  Winnie nearly tripped in her rush to get to Rhoda. “I’m ready,” came her thin warble.

  “Hello, Mamm.”

  Donna sniffed. “I don’t see why Travis couldn’t have taken her back. Mamm could have ridden in the closed buggy which would be much warmer.”

  Winnie stiffened. “A bit of cold air never hurt anyone!” Her watery gray eyes latched onto Rhoda’s face. “Did you tell Zeb I was coming?”

  Rhoda’s gaze flew to Donna’s.

  Donna heaved a sigh. “Mamm, Dat is gone. He died. Don’t you remember?”

  Winnie’s lower lip trembled, and she blinked rapidly. Then her jaw tightened. “Of course, I remember. Do you think me daft?”

  Rhoda put her arm around her mother. “Are you ready? I have a nice warm quilt to tuck around you.”

  Winnie twisted about and looked at Donna’s three oldest children, who were standing behind her like a row of beans. “Give your grossmami a hug, kinner. I’ll see you soon.”

  “I don’t want you to go,” Ruth cried, hastening forward to hug Winnie.

  “Ruth,” admonished Donna, “we discussed this. Grossmami needs to go back to her own house.” Donna leaned against the table, her fatigue so heavy that it was almost as if another person was in the room.

  “Do you want me to stay a while?” Rhoda asked Donna. “I can help with a few chores before taking Mamm home.”

  “I want to go home now,” Winnie announced, her voice plaintive. “Zeb is waiting for me.”

  “Take her,” Donna said. “We can talk later.”

  “If you’re sure…” Rhoda was worried about her sister. She’d never seen Donna so tired. Perhaps, Rhoda could take a few of the children off of her hands for a while. “Maybe Ruth and Anna can come over tomorrow. They can help me with my chores.”

  “And who will help me with mine?” snapped Donna. Her face grew flushed, and she put a hand to her cheek. “I’m sorry.” She looked momentarily confused. “Maybe later in the week,” she finished lamely.

  “Sure. Of course. Whatever you wish,” Rhoda said. If Mamm hadn’t been standing there itching to get underway, Rhoda would have stayed. But as it was, she didn’t see that she had much choice but to leave.

  Donna stepped close to Winnie and gave her an awkward hug. “Thanks for your help, Mamm,” she said. “I’ll see you soon.”

  Winnie nodded and walked to the front door. “You coming?” she asked Rhoda.

  Rhoda squeezed Donna’s hand and then hurried after her mother.

  Once outside, Rhoda got Winnie settled onto the bench in the cart. She wrapped the quilt snuggly around her. “You all right?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  Little Ruth had followed them outside, carrying Winnie’s suitcase. “Here, Aenti,” she said to Rhoda, hefting up the bag.

  “Thanks, honey.” Rhoda placed the suitcase into the bed of the cart. “I’ll be in touch.”

  “Okay.” Ruth looked ready to cry. “Bye, Grossmami.”

  “Good-bye, child,” Winnie said. But her eyes had turned glassy, and she was sta
ring off at something in the distance.

  Rhoda climbed in, slapped the reins on Feisty’s rump, and off they went. She didn’t drive fast, thinking that the cold air would be less bitter at a slower speed. Otherwise, it would be a frozen blast in their faces. Winnie seemed content enough. Her eyes had gone to half-mast, and more than once Rhoda thought she had fallen asleep.

  Before leaving to fetch her mother, Rhoda had banked both warming stoves well, so when they arrived home and she got Winnie inside, the temperature was really quite pleasant. Winnie stood inside the front room and gazed around her as if checking for any changes that might have been made in her absence.

  “I’m going to fix us some tea,” she declared. She started off toward the kitchen but faltered and looked about to fall. Rhoda rushed forward, taking her arm.

  “You sit down. We’ll celebrate your return by me making the tea. How does that sound?”

  “Sounds right nice,” Winnie said, allowing herself to be led to the rocking chair.

  Later that afternoon, Rhoda stood over the stove mixing a batch of sugar water for her bees. Every winter, she added it to their hives, increasing their winter food supply. It made the honey supply they had stored last longer. She measured out the two parts sugar to one part water and waited for it to boil.

  She’d already put grease patties in each hive. That would stop any major mite infestations. She glanced out the kitchen window. Bart had told her that the Farmer’s Almanac predicted a vicious winter. Perhaps she should stack some bales of hay around the hives as a wind break. She looked at the clock. She could do that tomorrow. After she got the sugar syrup out there, it would be time to prepare supper.

  Which, admittedly, wasn’t much of a job. She and Winnie didn’t eat all that much. Nevertheless, Rhoda tried to always make something simple and nutritious. Her mother had shrunk up to a stick as far as Rhoda was concerned, and that didn’t help her stay warm during the winter months.

  The bubbling liquid steamed heavily, the moist air skimming about Rhoda’s face as she peered at the mixture. She bent closer, to make sure that all the sugar had dissolved, and then turned off the burner. She’d let it cool and then take it outside.

  She loved her bees. And not just because of the honey they produced. She loved caring for them. She especially enjoyed watching the queen bee. She gave a quick smile. Perhaps, she identified with the mistress of the swarm. Even though her brother Bart claimed to be in charge of the old farm where Rhoda and her mother lived, most of the day-to-day care fell to Rhoda.

  With a snort, she realized that perhaps she wasn’t very queen bee-ish after all. She had no worker bees. She was on her own.

  “Rhoda?” Her mother’s voice came from the front room.

  Rhoda set the pan to the side and hurried to her mother. “Mamm? What do you need?”

  “When’s the quilting frolic?” she asked, blinking her watery eyes.

  “What quilting frolic?”

  “Bessie told me about it just the other day. And I’ve forgotten when it is. I don’t want to miss it.”

  “Bessie?” Rhoda asked, dread moving through her.

  Winnie frowned. “You got a hearing problem, daughter? Of course, it was Bessie. She’s the best quilter in these parts.”

  “Bessie Wittmer?”

  Winnie stopped rocking and looked downright annoyed. “Of course, Bessie Wittmer.”

  Rhoda swallowed. Bessie Wittmer had died two springs before. “Mamm, Bessie’s gone. Don’t you remember?”

  “Well, where did she go? She’s going to miss her own frolic!”

  Rhoda went over to the chair and squatted down before it. She took her mother’s thin hands in hers. “She died, Mamm. Two years ago.”

  Winnie’s eyes widened and tears welled up. She pulled her hands from Rhoda’s and gripped the arms of the chair, pushing her feet into the floor and rocking hard.

  “I know that,” she finally said, but Rhoda could see her struggle to digest the information. “And I’m not losing my mind, if that’s what you think.” Her voice was sharp.

  “Nee. That’s not what I think,” Rhoda mumbled, although it was exactly what she thought.

  Winnie waved her hand in the air. “Go on back to your tasks,” she said. “I’m fine.”

  Rhoda stood and backed away from her. Then she returned to the kitchen. The syrup was cooling nicely. Only a few more minutes and it would be ready to take out to the hives.

  Chapter 2

  That evening, after Mamm was tucked away in bed, Rhoda sat on the edge of her own bed and thought about the day. She loosened her hair and let it fall in waves down her back. She took up her brush and began to pull it through her gentle curls.

  Her brother Bart had warned her about spending another winter alone at the house with Mamm. He wanted both of them to move into his daadi haus, but Rhoda had foolishly promised her mother that she wouldn’t move her. She’d promised her mother that she could breathe her last breaths in her own home.

  When Bart heard about the promise, he about came unglued, claiming that she should never have promised such a thing. And now, Rhoda had to agree. She shouldn’t have promised.

  But then, she didn’t want to leave her home either. And since the promise was made, she’d have to work it out somehow. She would just have to be ever more diligent in watching over Winnie to keep her safe. And healthy.

  Rhoda set the brush down on the quilt, and her mind wandered to Aaron Raber. He was new in the district, having taken over the Stutzman’s old orchard and farm. He wanted to rent her bees come spring to pollinate his apple trees.

  A warm feeling filled her chest. He was a sight to behold, that one. She loved the way his blue eyes gleamed with confidence, and the way they lit up when he talked about his future plans for the orchard. She loved the way his tall muscular shoulders filled out his simple blue shirt. And she loved his quiet sense of humor and his crooked smile.

  They’d had dinner together not long ago at Emma’s Kitchen in Hollybrook. Rhoda was fairly certain it had been a date. He hinted as much, anyway. They had gone under the pretense of discussing their business arrangement with her bees. But it had quickly become obvious to her that both of them yearned for it to be more than that.

  Rhoda smiled with pleasure. She was twenty-six years old—a spinster in many people’s minds. Most people’s minds, actually. But yet, there she was, sitting on her bed, fantasizing about a man for the first time in her life. She wondered what it would be like if he took her hand. How would it feel? His hand looked solid and tough. She’d noticed it before. It would easily envelope hers in a strong grip. Would his touch be tender?

  And what would it be like if his lips brushed her cheek?

  Just imagining it sent a thrill through her.

  She closed her eyes. Did he think of her? Dream of her? Oh, she hoped she wasn’t reading things into their relationship that weren’t there.

  Their relationship? They barely knew each other. Shame flooded her, and she felt her face go hot. What a silly girl. Sitting there dreaming about things that might never happen. In all truth, things that probably never would happen. She stood up to change into her nightgown.

  But her mind continued to dwell on the splendor of Aaron Raber.

  Rhoda awoke with a start. Black shadows still lingered, so it couldn’t be quite morning yet. She tensed and lay perfectly still, listening. Something had awakened her. And then she heard it. The floorboards outside her room creaked loudly. Someone was there.

  Mamm! she breathed. It’s Mamm. Who else would it be?

  Rhoda threw off her quilt and jumped out of bed. Her feet went cold on the thick braided rug. She ran to her door and threw it open, feeling her way into the hall.

  A sharp cry and then thud, thud, thud. Sobbing. A scream. Another scream, its sharp thin cry piercing Rhoda’s heart.

  “Mamm!” Rhoda yelled. “Mamm!” She scrambled to the top of the stairs. She hadn’t brought her flashlight, nor had she lit a lantern.


  “Mamm!” she cried again, starting down the steps.

  “Zeb, oh Zeb,” Winnie whimpered, calling for her dead husband. “I’m hurt.”

  Rhoda was halfway down the stairs now, hurrying as fast as she dared in the dark. She could see the dark lump of her mother at the bottom of the steps. She half-tripped the rest of the way down and knelt beside the prone woman.

  “Mamm, are you okay? Are you hurt? Can you move?” she asked frantically. She reached out and felt the tears on her mother’s shrunken cheeks. “You’re so cold.”

  “My leg hurts,” moaned Winnie. “I can’t move it.”

  “Don’t try. I’ll get help.” Rhoda raced into the front room, her hands running along the walls. She felt around in the dark until she found the davenport and the heavy afghan tossed over the back of it. She pulled the blanket loose, grabbed a throw pillow, and ran back to her mother. She tucked the afghan around Winnie’s slight form and slipped the pillow under her head.

  Winnie was still crying softly, her shoulders shaking. “Where’s Zeb?” she asked.

  “He’s coming,” Rhoda lied, patting her mother’s shoulder. “But I have to get help.”

  Winnie’s arm darted out from under the afghan, and she grabbed Rhoda’s hand. “Don’t leave me. Not until Zeb gets here.” Her voice was frantic.

  Rhoda rubbed her mother’s arm and pried her hand loose. “Mamm, listen to me. You’ve fallen down the steps. You’re hurt. I have to get help.”

  “Nee. Nee. Zeb will come and take me back to bed.”

  “He’s not coming yet. I have to get to the phone shanty and call for an ambulance.” She leaned close, looking into her mother’s shadowed face. “Do you understand me?”

  “I hear the bees again.” Winne sobbed. “They’re all over you.”