Free Seasons of Tomorrow by Cindy Woodsmall

every organized thought from Samuel, and heat flushed his body as anxiety collided with reality. Samuel moved in front of Rhoda, wanting to shield her from what was about to happen. “Daed.”
    His father stepped to the side and pointed a shaky finger at Rhoda. “How dare you conjure up witchcraft! And you”—he pointed at Samuel—“not only allow it, but you encourage it?”
    Rhoda closed her eyes, and Samuel knew every bit of her focused energy had just scattered like dust flying from hay during feeding time.
    “Daed, stop. Now.” Samuel gritted his teeth, trying his best to keep his voice low and calm for Rhoda’s sake.
    “Benjamin.” Rhoda gave a slow nod of acknowledgment. “I didn’t realize—”
    The man clenched his hands. “If you’d known I was here, I wouldn’t have seen for myself what you’re dabbling in and how you’re dragging my son with you. No wonder Jacob left here.”
    With her lips pressed together, Rhoda gave an understanding smile. “What I was saying sounded really weird and outside of acceptable. I know that, but—”
    “Nee.” Daed shook his head. “I’m not discussing this with a woman.”
    Rhoda’s face flushed, but to her credit she simply nodded.
    Samuel’s hackles rose, and regardless of the consequences he had to speak up. “Daed, you have no call and no right to be rude to anyone on this farm, man or woman.”
    “I’m not going to stand here and listen to her justify herself.”
    “But you said unfair, insulting things, and then you refused to let her respond because she’s a woman.”
    Daed pointed, his face taut. “While taking on a woman for a business partner, have you forgotten that the man is to lead, that the man is to have final authority and final say?”
    Who had been bending his Daed’s ear lately? Whoever it was, they had him riled against women—as if his Daed needed those burning embers stirred in him. In the past his Daed had no passionate desire to set women straight. He’d only wanted to be left alone, even when Leah was young and crossing moral lines. Now he wanted to stand his ground and argue?
    “I haven’t forgotten about the man’s authority, Daed.” How could he? It was the foundation of the family unit and the Amish culture. “But in those same passages we’re told to love as Christ loved the church. I can’t see Jesus saying unjust things to people and then refusing to let them speak because of their gender. Can you?”
    His Daed’s face turned a purplish red. “Whatever darkness she’s dabbling in, it’s not of God.”
    Samuel looked to Rhoda. “Maybe you should go into the house.”
    Rhoda glanced from one man to the other. “Ya, okay.”
    Samuel looked through the office window, waiting until Rhoda was halfway to the house so she wouldn’t be within earshot if they started yelling. “You’re judging the situation and Rhoda too quickly.”
    “I don’t need time to ponder and listen to know she’s wrong. How blind and deaf have you become for us to need to have this conversation?”
    “You’ve never had knowledge come to you from out of the blue? You never knew when a loved one was sick or in danger or had been in an accident? You’ve never known for sure what you needed to do in a sticky situation and you couldn’t explain how you knew it?”
    Daed scratched his forehead. “But she said she hears dead people!”
    “No. She said she didn’t hear from any supposedly dead people.”
    “You are straining at gnats.”
    Samuel hoped he could find the right words. “She was talking to me, and I understood what she meant.”
    “And?”
    “Have you ever heard a barn cat cry and at first thought it was a baby? Or heard fireworks and thought it was thunder, or a car backfire and believed it was a gun going off? We think we know what a sound is when we first hear it, but with a bit of thought and investigation, it is often revealed to be something else.”
    “You don’t wish to righteously evaluate or judge