Summer of Secrets by Charlotte Hubbard

want the story gettin’ out of Willow Ridge, bringin’ in reporters or television cameras—”
    “You’d be singin’ a different song if your wee one had washed away all those years ago! Now hush with ya!” Miriam gestured toward the window. “The girls are nearly here and this ain’t been easy for them.”
    Her sister’s grin turned catlike. “ Jah , your girls were more in the spotlight than the expectant mothers and their babies yesterday, and they were none too happy about it.”
    “My girls? Or the new mothers?”
    Leah’s lips quirked. “ Jah , them.”
    Miriam fought the urge to shoo Leah Kanagy back to her garden plots. Had her own sister—Rebecca’s aunt—nothing positive or encouraging to say? Only sunrise, and already Leah had put a damper on the day—not that things had changed since they were girls growing up amongst five other sisters. She patted the fat, brown loaves into their pans and set them by the ovens to rise. Then she opened the large refrigerator door to assess the makings of today’s breakfast offerings.
    “Well, I can see my big-sister advice is gonna blow right by ya.” Leah gently squeezed the last of the wet spinach and dropped it into the colander. “Take care, Miriam.”
    “ Jah , you too, Leah. Careful out there in the heat of the day—and denki for the fine-lookin’ greens. I’ll add them to my tab, end of the month.”
    Her sister wiped her wet hands and then left by the kitchen exit, her greetings to the girls drifting into the kitchen with them. Rhoda, in blue, hugged her mother warmly while Rachel, in faded brown, appeared as pinched as a robin on a parched summer lawn. Miriam gazed at their dear faces. How would her daughters react if they heard she’d been to see Mr. Oliveri yesterday? Especially if they learned it secondhand? She hadn’t gone to Morning Star to spite them or hurt their feelings ... didn’t want yet another secret to make them doubt her boundless, unconditional love for the both of them.
    “So Aunt Leah brought us more work, did she?” Rachel remarked shrilly. “Seems to be the only time she comes around.”
    Miriam blinked. Where had that come from? Such an uncharacteristic question warned her that everyone’s morning would go downhill from here if she mentioned her trip to Morning Star right now. “ Jah , the work—and the fresh veggies—keep comin’ at us, thank goodness! So we’d best make our way through it with a smile, instead of whinin’,” she replied as lightly as she could. “We’ll be needin’ silverware bundled first thing. And I’m thinkin’ we’ve got more ham than sausage this mornin’—at least until the Zooks send us any surplus from the weekend. “What sounds gut for the breakfast specials?”
    Rachel beelined into the dining room, to the big tub of clean silverware beside the coffeemakers. Rhoda sighed and tipped her head toward her sister. “Got a bone to pick with Micah, I’m guessin’,” she murmured as she stood beside her mother, gazing into the refrigerator. “He didn’t come to the singin’ after our quiltin’ frolic, and she’s mighty put out about it.”
    “Was he s’posed to? Did he say he’d pick her up?”
    “Well, in Rachel’s mind, the poor fella’s to be spendin’ every spare moment with her now.” Rhoda glanced out the serving window to where her sister was tightly winding white napkins around silverware. “I try to remind her he’s got outside jobs, and he puts in extra hours this time of year, but she’ll hear none of that. All wound up about the ice-cream social next Saturday, too.”
    Miriam smiled to herself. Micah Brenneman had bought paint, lumber, and other building supplies and stashed them in the smithy Saturday morning so he could begin the transformation of the loft this week. “I hope she don’t get so pouty and pushy he changes his mind about her. Micah’s a man with a gut solid plan for his future—and hers, if she’ll give him a little breathin’