that explains the times you slipped out of church to puke around back of the house?”
“Uh-huh. Dat knew what was goin’ on, but he also knew better than to say anything to Mamm. He figured I’d get sick enough—or smart enough—to stop such foolishness eventually.”
“So what brought you around?” Adam decided to enjoy these moments of confession while Matthias was in the mood to share them; these recollections of his brother’s rumspringa were putting him in a much better frame of mind.
“Sadie.” Matthias sighed, yet he didn’t plunge into the black pit his late wife’s name usually opened up. “She was a sweet girl, lookin’ for a fella to take her away from a heavy-handed dat . So I gave up the English sins and brought her home with me.”
Adam recalled their whirlwind courtship—although it wasn’t all that unusual for Amish young people to get engaged before either of them had met the other’s family. It was the more normal thing for newlyweds to live with the girl’s parents for a year or so, but now Adam understood why Sadie and Matthias had stayed here with them. “Truth be told, the folks would’ve been in a bind if you’d moved to Windsor, what with Dat having his heart attack not long after that.”
Matthias again ran his hand over the motorcycle’s seat and then stepped back to openly admire the vehicle. “I’m no expert, but somethin’ tells me this cycle’s old enough to be worth somethin’. Anything vintage is a big deal these days, and this ride’s got some fine style to it,” he said emphatically. “Any man would understand why ya wanted to go joyridin’ down the country roads on it. The question is, why’d ya stop?”
Adam looked his brother squarely in the eye. “I joined the church.”
“That could’ve waited a while. You were barely seventeen—”
“It felt like the right thing to do after Mamm’s buggy wreck, all right?” Adam quickly draped the tarp over the motorcycle and then grabbed the lantern handle. “So what’d ya throw together for our dinner? I brought home a real tasty dessert from the Sweet Seasons. Actually saved some for you.”
Matthias got a startled look on his face. “Rats! I left it cookin’ on the stove!”
As his brother sprinted out the barn door, Adam wished again that Mamm hadn’t raced out to fetch Ruth on that fateful day . . . wished his dat had let Matthias call the ambulance when he’d felt the first chest pains . . . wished that Sadie and her unborn child hadn’t died during her asthma attack.
But what good were wishes, when they never seemed to come true?
Chapter Nine
“Well, here it is the first Friday night of February and I haven’t read The Budget from the end of January yet.” Ben chuckled as he settled beside Miriam on the sofa. “Sounds like quite a hot date for us, ain’t so?”
Miriam leaned against him and kissed his cheek. His new beard was getting long enough to be soft instead of bristly, and she loved nuzzling it. “It’s the perfect night to stay in by the fire,” she replied. “And isn’t it a treat, hearin’ Rebecca and the Knepp sisters chatterin’ like magpies, havin’ a little sewin’ frolic in the spare room?”
Ben glanced toward the doorway where the girls were as he picked up the newspaper. “Annie Mae surely must miss goin’ out with fellas on the weekends.”
“She’s learnin’ that workin’ on her feet all day, all week long, can take some of that run-around out of ya,” Miriam replied. “Could be she feels safer stayin’ tucked away with us, too, instead of bein’ out where Hiram might meet up with her. His visit to the Sweet Seasons spooked her.”
For a few moments they read in comfortable silence as Miriam rested her head on Ben’s shoulder, holding one side of the paper while he held the other. The Budget was made up of page after page of letters from the Amish and Mennonite settlements all around the country. She and Ben first read the reports from
“Uh-huh. Dat knew what was goin’ on, but he also knew better than to say anything to Mamm. He figured I’d get sick enough—or smart enough—to stop such foolishness eventually.”
“So what brought you around?” Adam decided to enjoy these moments of confession while Matthias was in the mood to share them; these recollections of his brother’s rumspringa were putting him in a much better frame of mind.
“Sadie.” Matthias sighed, yet he didn’t plunge into the black pit his late wife’s name usually opened up. “She was a sweet girl, lookin’ for a fella to take her away from a heavy-handed dat . So I gave up the English sins and brought her home with me.”
Adam recalled their whirlwind courtship—although it wasn’t all that unusual for Amish young people to get engaged before either of them had met the other’s family. It was the more normal thing for newlyweds to live with the girl’s parents for a year or so, but now Adam understood why Sadie and Matthias had stayed here with them. “Truth be told, the folks would’ve been in a bind if you’d moved to Windsor, what with Dat having his heart attack not long after that.”
Matthias again ran his hand over the motorcycle’s seat and then stepped back to openly admire the vehicle. “I’m no expert, but somethin’ tells me this cycle’s old enough to be worth somethin’. Anything vintage is a big deal these days, and this ride’s got some fine style to it,” he said emphatically. “Any man would understand why ya wanted to go joyridin’ down the country roads on it. The question is, why’d ya stop?”
Adam looked his brother squarely in the eye. “I joined the church.”
“That could’ve waited a while. You were barely seventeen—”
“It felt like the right thing to do after Mamm’s buggy wreck, all right?” Adam quickly draped the tarp over the motorcycle and then grabbed the lantern handle. “So what’d ya throw together for our dinner? I brought home a real tasty dessert from the Sweet Seasons. Actually saved some for you.”
Matthias got a startled look on his face. “Rats! I left it cookin’ on the stove!”
As his brother sprinted out the barn door, Adam wished again that Mamm hadn’t raced out to fetch Ruth on that fateful day . . . wished his dat had let Matthias call the ambulance when he’d felt the first chest pains . . . wished that Sadie and her unborn child hadn’t died during her asthma attack.
But what good were wishes, when they never seemed to come true?
Chapter Nine
“Well, here it is the first Friday night of February and I haven’t read The Budget from the end of January yet.” Ben chuckled as he settled beside Miriam on the sofa. “Sounds like quite a hot date for us, ain’t so?”
Miriam leaned against him and kissed his cheek. His new beard was getting long enough to be soft instead of bristly, and she loved nuzzling it. “It’s the perfect night to stay in by the fire,” she replied. “And isn’t it a treat, hearin’ Rebecca and the Knepp sisters chatterin’ like magpies, havin’ a little sewin’ frolic in the spare room?”
Ben glanced toward the doorway where the girls were as he picked up the newspaper. “Annie Mae surely must miss goin’ out with fellas on the weekends.”
“She’s learnin’ that workin’ on her feet all day, all week long, can take some of that run-around out of ya,” Miriam replied. “Could be she feels safer stayin’ tucked away with us, too, instead of bein’ out where Hiram might meet up with her. His visit to the Sweet Seasons spooked her.”
For a few moments they read in comfortable silence as Miriam rested her head on Ben’s shoulder, holding one side of the paper while he held the other. The Budget was made up of page after page of letters from the Amish and Mennonite settlements all around the country. She and Ben first read the reports from
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