Christmas at Rose Hill Farm by Suzanne Woods Fisher Read Free Book Online

favor. The commercial nurseries are too large for his type of panels—he’s trying to build up the home business. Or small farms, like ours.” He ran a hand down the arch of his aching back, wincing slightly. “If the costs ever come down, I suspect more and more of our people will be using solar energy.”
    â€œJonah, I’m very impressed.”
    Jonah’s cheeks, above his beard, stained pink with embarrassment. “Sun, water, they’re God’s gifts. He’s provided the means for man to live a sustainable life.”
    â€œYou harnessed their power.”
    â€œIt’s worked well this fall because we’ve had a dry spell, nice and clear. But I didn’t expect it to last.” Hands on his hips, Jonah glanced around with a worried look. “Sunday’s snowfall was practicing for winter’s arrival.”
    Billy walked up and down the aisle in awe, studying varieties he hadn’t seen in years. He knew them all: The shell pink Ma Perkins, named for a popular radio soap opera in 1952. Behind it was a fragrant deep pink hybrid perpetual named Helen Keller. The story behind this rose floated into his mind: The rose had been introduced in 1895 on Helen Keller’s fifteenth birthday. She couldn’t see a flower or hear its name, but she could smell, and she always held roses dear to her heart. Next to the HelenKeller, Billy spotted a trio of roses and glanced at Jonah. “The Peace roses?” Pax Amanda, Pax Apollo, and Pax Iola.
    Billy had always appreciated the story behind those roses. A South Dakota breeder had hybridized the trio of roses in 1938, in between the two world wars, with an absence of prickles on the plants’ stems. The breeder wanted everyone to know that thorns were no more necessary on roses than war was among humans.
    Jonah smiled, watching him. “Probably our bestselling roses, at least in Stoney Ridge.”
    The beauty of these roses, the care Jonah and Bess took with them, felt like balm to Billy’s soul. It was more nourishing than food for his sense of well-being and happiness, both of which had left him years ago. He felt the tension drain from him, though he held his shoulders stiff. He realized that Jonah was studying him, waiting for something from him. “Did you force blooms to sell plants through the winter?”
    â€œIt was Bess’s idea to keep up income during the winter months.” Jonah glanced fondly at his daughter. “She’s been expanding the rose business beyond my mother’s jam and soaps. To remedies.” Jonah offered up a shy smile. “She’s got my mother’s touch.”
    Jonah’s love for his family was evident. Billy swallowed back a deep envy that rose from his center. Why was everyone else able to find love and happiness, but not him? He tried to tamp down that ugly feeling of self-pity and looked around for the reason he was at Rose Hill Farm: the mystery rose.
    Jonah saw Billy’s eyes sweep the greenhouse. “Down there, in the corner. We didn’t even want to move it.”
    There, tucked into the far left corner of the greenhouse, was a rosebush in a large clay pot. It was fully leafed out with one tight capsule of a flower bud. He walked up to it and crouched down to inspect it, noting the characteristics of the plant, tryingto recognize if it was an obvious species or class. He examined the branching pattern, the veining and number of leaves, and their unique edging. He looked closely at the lone flower bud, enclosed by sepals—a cluster of leaflike structures. That one small bud wouldn’t open for another week or two, longer if the weather stayed cold. “Mind if I lift it up on the workbench?”
    â€œIt’s up to you,” Jonah said. “We felt concerned about causing it any stress. I think it’s gotten just the right amount of sunlight and moisture in that corner after we winterized the