A Sister's Test by Wanda E. Brunstetter Page B

you get to school safely.”
    Anna shrugged her slim shoulders. “Jah, okay.”
    A short time later as Grace directed their horse and buggy down the driveway past her folks’ place, she was shocked to see the writing on her father’s barn. She halted the horse and climbed out of the buggy so she could get a better look at the words that had been painted in bold black letters.
    Her heart pounded. “Gary’s at it again,” she fumed. “That man won’t rest until he’s made me pay for breaking up with him and marrying Wade.”
    Mom rushed up to her. “I hated for you to see this, and I was coming up to tell you about it,” she said, motioning to the barn. “Your daed and Cleon won’t have time to paint over it until they’re done working for the day. They promised to dig a new garden plot for me, too.”
    Grace’s forehead wrinkled. “You already have a garden plot. Why would you need a new one?”
    “Whoever painted those threatening words on the side of our barn also put weed killer on my garden.” Mom slowly shook her head. “Everything’s dead—including the new shoots of celery we planted for the creamed celery dish we were going to serve at Ruth’s wedding.”
    Grace glanced at the buggy. She was grateful Anna hadn’t gotten out. She didn’t want her daughter to know what had happened. Anna was already nervous about her first day of school; she didn’t need something else to worry about.
    “I’m so sorry, Mom,” Grace said, clasping her mother’s hand. “If there was something I could do to make these horrible attacks stop, I surely would.”
    “There’s nothing we can do but pray. Things will ease up. We just need to hold steady and trust God, like your daed has said many times.”
    Grace stared at the ugly words written on the barn until they blurred before her eyes. “I don’t think things will ever ease up unless Gary Walker leaves town for good.” Without waiting for Mom to comment, Grace climbed into the buggy, grabbed up the reins, and headed down the driveway.
    As they traveled to the schoolhouse, all she could think about was the latest act of vandalism. By the time she pulled into the schoolhouse parking lot, she’d developed a headache.
    “Oh, there’s Esta,” Anna said, clambering across the seat and hopping out of the buggy.
    “Don’t you want me to walk you inside?” Grace called after her.
    Anna shook her head. “I’ll walk with Esta.”
    The child scampered off, and Grace took up the reins. She didn’t feel like going home and looking at the words on Dad’s barn, so shedecided to drive over to Abe Wengerd’s place to see how he was getting along and maybe visit with Sue. Focusing on someone else’s problems might help take her mind off her own.

    As Martin hauled a piece of leather over to a tub of black dye, his thoughts went to Ruth and how interested she had seemed the day he’d shown her the harness shop. She’d said she liked it here, and that was a good thing since they would be getting married in a few months. He would probably come home from work every night smelling like leather, neat’s-foot oil, or pungent dye.
    Martin remembered how nervous he had felt when he’d proposed to Ruth, and how relieved he’d felt when she said yes. He could hardly wait to make her his wife.
    Martin’s thoughts were halted when Abe’s youngest boy, Owen, burst into the room, shouting, “Molly won’t let me play with her wooden blocks!”
    Abe stepped away from the oversized sewing machine where he’d been working and lifted the boy into his arms. “Molly’s only two, son. She doesn’t understand yet about sharing.”
    Owen’s lower lip quivered. “I always have to share with her.”
    “I know.” He patted the child’s back. “Did you speak with Aunt Sue about it? Maybe she can convince Molly to share the blocks with you.”
    Owen shook his head. “Aunt Sue’s busy bakin’ bread.”
    “I’m sure Molly will take a nap after lunch.” Abe placed Owen