Plain Truth by Jodi Picoult

this isn't just a three A.M . social call?”
    â€œYou're not going to believe this, but I'm at an Amish family's home.”
    â€œAh, I knew it. You never really got over me, and you chucked it all for the simple life.”
    I laughed. “Coop, I got over you a decade ago. Just about the time you got married, actually. I'm here as part of a bail provision for a client, who was charged with murdering her newborn. I want you to evaluate her.”
    He exhaled slowly. “I'm not a forensic psychiatrist, Ellie. Just your run-of-the-mill suburban shrink.”
    â€œI know, but … well, I trust you. And I need this off the record, a gut feeling, before I decide how I'm going to get her off.”
    â€œYou trust me?”
    I drew in my breath, remembering. “Well. More or less. More, when the issue at hand doesn't involve me.”
    Coop hesitated. “Can you bring her in on Monday?”
    â€œUh, no. She isn't supposed to leave the farm.”
    â€œI'm making a house call?”
    â€œYou're making a farm call, if it makes you feel any better.”
    I could imagine him closing his eyes, flopping back down on his pillows. Just say yes, I urged silently. “I couldn't juggle my schedule until Wednesday at the earliest,” Coop said.
    â€œThat's good enough.”
    â€œThink they'll let me milk a cow?”
    â€œI'll see what I can do.”
    I could feel his smile, even all these miles away. “Ellie,” he said, “you've got yourself a deal.”

FIVE
    A aron hurried into the kitchen and sat down at the table, Sarah turning in perfect choreography to set a cup of coffee in front of him. “Where is Katie?” he asked, frowning.
    â€œShe's asleep, still,” Sarah said. “I didn't think to wake her yet.”
    â€œYet? It's Gemeesunndaag . We have to leave, or we'll be late.”
    Sarah flattened her hands on the counter, as if she might be able to smooth the Formica even further. She squared her shoulders and prepared to contradict Aaron, something she had done so infrequently in her marriage she could count the occasions on a single hand. “I don't think Katie should be going to church today.”
    Aaron set down his mug. “Of course she'll go to church.”
    â€œShe's feeling grenklich , Aaron. You saw the look on her face all day yesterday.”
    â€œShe's not sick.”
    Sarah sank down into the chair across from him. “People will have heard by now about this baby. And the Englischer .”
    â€œThe bishop knows what Katie said, and he believes her. If Ephram decides there is a need for Katie to make a confession, he'll come and talk to her here first.”
    Sarah bit her lip. “Ephram believes Katie when she says she didn't kill that baby. But does he believe her when she says it isn't hers?” When Aaron didn't answer, she reached across the table and touched his hand. “Do you?”
    He was silent for a moment. “I saw it, Sarah, and I touched it. I don't know how it got there.” Grimacing, he admitted, “I also know that Katie and Samuel would not be the first to get ahead of their wedding vows.”
    Blinking back tears, Sarah shook her head. “That'll mean the Meidung , for sure,” she said. “Even if she confesses and says she's sorry for it, she'll still be under the bann for a while.”
    â€œYes, but then she'll be forgiven and welcomed back.”
    â€œSometimes,” Sarah said, her mouth tightening, “that's not the way it goes.” The memory of their oldest son, Jacob, suddenly flared between them, crowding the table so that Aaron pushed back his chair. She had not said Jacob's name, but she had brought up his specter in a household where he was supposed to be long dead. Afraid of Aaron's reaction, Sarah turned away, surprised when her husband's voice came back soft and broken.
    â€œIf Katie stays at home today,” he said, “if she acts sick and don't