Chapter One
"Are you lost, miss? This is the bus to Columbia."
Nora King almost levitated out of her high–top
shoes. She turned to find a kind ebony face inches from her
own. "I don't think I am. Do you mean Columbia, Missouri?"
She shifted the heavy suitcase to her other hand.
The bus driver chuckled, revealing several gold
teeth. "It's the only one we've got. You're a long way from
South Carolina. Want me to stow that in the underbelly or
do you want to put it in the overhead?" He pointed at her
bag.
The question dumbfounded Nora as people jostled past on
both sides. "I'm not sure," she murmured. In fact, there
wasn't much she was sure of since leaving Harmony. Who
would have thought it would be so hard to get to Missouri?
It certainly hadn't been such an ordeal to travel from
Pennsylvania to Maine.
The bus driver straightened after stowing several
suitcases into a large compartment above the wheels. "It's
a little over two hours to Columbia from here, St. Louis."
He pointed at the ground, in case she truly was lost. "Is
there anything you need from the bag during the
drive—snacks, reading matter, personal items?"
"Jah, I mean, yes." Nora flushed as she lapsed into her
Deutsch dialect. "Sorry, I'm Amish."
He offered another magnificent smile. "That much I
figured out on my own. Since the bag isn't too large and
you'll need things, stow in in the rack above your head.
But climb up and find a seat. It's time to go." The driver
pointed at the steps and then resumed packing luggage into
the underbelly.
Nora had no idea why she was acting like this. She'd
ridden plenty of buses in her lifetime, just not on any
this side of the Mississippi River. She was in the West and
in the new home state of Elam Detweiler. That thought left
her weak in the knees. Nevertheless, she joined the queue
boarding the bus in the St. Louis terminal and started the
second last leg of her journey.
"Nora? Nora King?" An unfamiliar female voice sang out.
Nora gazed over a sea of English faces, yet none seemed
particularly interested in her.
"Back here, Nora." A small hand waved in the air, midway
down the aisle.
Nora inched her way back, careful not to bump anyone
with her overstuffed duffle bag. Her sister, Amy, sewed her
several dresses, along with kapps, and then bought her
brand new underwear. Nora should have bought a bigger
suitcase. After hefting her bag and jamming it between two
others, she peered into the blue eyes of the person calling
her name—a pretty girl around her own age. "You're
Amish," she stammered.
"I am. Did you think you would be the only one?" The
girl became even prettier when she smiled. "Sit here with
me and stop blocking the aisle." She patted the vinyl seat
beside her.
Acutely aware people were growing impatient behind her,
Nora did as she was told. "Danki, I will."
"I'm Violet, and I'm your official
welcome–to–Missouri committee. My mother and
me, that is." She hooked a thumb toward the rear of the
bus. "My mamm moved to another seat so you and I could get
acquainted during the ride." Violet straightened her apron
over a sage green dress with an expression of pure joy with
her idea.
Nora peeked over the seat. Two rows back a
middle–aged woman lifted her hand in a wave. She
appeared old enough to be the girl's grossmammi, not her
mother. "Danki for saving a seat and for the welcome, but
how did you know I would take this bus?"
"It was arranged by Emily Gingerich, sister of Sally
Detweiler, sister–in–law to your sister, Amy
Detweiler. Hmmm, does that make Sally your
sister–in–law, too? I don't know how that
works, but it doesn't really matter since you're here now
and soon we'll be in Columbia. My father arranged for a
hired van to take us the rest of the way to Paradise. He'll
be waiting at the terminal." Violet sputtered out of air.
Nora blinked like an owl, bewildered despite Violet's
long–winded explanation. "I see," she said
unconvincingly.
"Forgive me for chattering like a magpie. My daed says I
run off at the mouth to make up for the fact I can't run
around." She laughed without restraint.
"I don't mind, talk all you want. But are running or
jogging frowned upon in your local Ordnung?" Nora was eager
to learn the rules and regulations after her experience in
the ultra–conservative district of Harmony, Maine.
It was Violet's turn to stare with confusion. "Goodness
no, Nora King. What an odd question. You could run until
you drop over with a side–stitch if you like. But I
can't due to bum legs." She patted her dress where her
kneecaps would be. "I fell from the barn loft when I was
four years old. I'd sneaked up the ladder when my sisters
weren't looking, even though my parents had warned me a
hundred times."
"Good grief. You're lucky you weren't killed." Nora
noticed Violet's dress was a soft shade of sea–blue
with pleasure. Harmony had allowed only navy, black or dull
brown.
"That's the truth. But I don't have to stay in a
wheelchair all the time. I can hobble around on crutches
but tire out quickly." Violet cocked her head as though
waiting for a reaction.
Nora shrugged her shoulders. "At least a wheelchair is
more comfortable than those hard, back–less benches
during preaching services. And you'll always a place to sit
at social events." She drank deeply from her water bottle.
Violet threw her head back and laughed. "You have a
great attitude!" Her freckles seemed to dance across her
nose. "You're not uncomfortable with me being crippled?"
Nora stared at her as the bus pulled out of the
depot. "Of course not. Don't be a goose. What difference
does it make whether or not you can run? I can always push
your wheelchair fast if you need to get some place in a
hurry."
Without warning, Violet threw both arms around Nora and
squeezed. "You and I might end up being good friends."
A perfect stranger until ten minutes ago.
An expression of affection from a human being other than
her sister, Amy.
"That would be nice," she said. "Since I don't have any
friends in Missouri. I only had two in Maine and didn't
have many in Lancaster either." Nora smoothed the wrinkles
in her mud–brown dress, wishing she'd worn one of the
new ones.
Violet's eyes rounded. "You once lived in Lancaster? I
heard stories how crowded that county has become. Plenty of
Old Order folks have resettled here since they couldn't
find affordable farmland to buy in Pennsylvania."
Nora's stomach lurched and it had nothing to do with the
bus gaining speed on the freeway entrance ramp. "Please
don't tell me where I'm headed has only a dozen families
and a town the size of a postage stamp. There were just a
couple hundred Amish people in three communities in the
entire state of Maine."
"You're moving to a place you know nothing about?"
Violet drew back, clucking her tongue. "There are nine
thousand Amish in Missouri, in thirty–eight
settlements and at least ninety districts. Does that
brighten your day a bit? The city of Columbia is only an
hour away with beautiful parks and nature areas and a
super–duper mall." She leaned over
conspiratorially. "But don't tell my daed that mamm I went
there twice after doctor's appointments. We didn't buy
anything except for a giant pretzel. We just looked around
at the stuff Englischers spend their hard–earned
money on. My father thinks malls are the devil's
playground, but everyone looked rather harmless to me."
Grinning, Nora relaxed against the headrest. She liked
Violet already. "Harmony would be nice if you're ready to
marry and raise a family, like my sister, Amy. But for a
single woman, not ready to settle down, it was deader than
an anthill in January."
"In that case, you'll like Paradise. We have almost
forty Amish businesses in town and spread throughout the
county. Lots of bakeries, mercantiles, doll shops, quilts,
crafts, antiques, baskets, beside manly businesses like
lumberyards, feed–and–seeds, leather tanners
and carriage shops. You'll have no trouble finding a job."
Violet dug cheese crackers from her purse and tore open the
pack.
Nora took one to calm her queasy stomach. "Do you mean
your Ordnung permits women to work?"
"Of course, women are allowed to work. Where did you say
you came from—Maine or Mars?"
Nora choked on the bite of cracker. "The two were pretty
much the same thing," she said after another sip of
water. "Women were forbidden to take jobs outside their
homes."
Violet devoured another Nab. "Usually women here quit
work once they marry and the bopplin start arriving. But
until then, people will scratch their heads or shake a
stick if you sit around the house twiddling your thumbs."
She leaned to whisper into Nora's ear. "Don't you love that
quaint expression—as though babies take the Greyhound
to the Columbia depot, call for the hired van, and show up
with a fully packed diaper bag." She unleashed such
uproarious laughter the people in front of them peeked over
their seats.
Nora snickered. "It does paint a different picture than
a mother in hours of painful labor." She pulled another
cracker from Violet's pack. "I'm glad Paradise isn't as
stodgy as Harmony had been. There was little to do,
especially during the winter, with few social events other
than singings. And the church singings were for everybody,
not just young single people. Plus, did I mention no
rumschpringe?"
Violet's hand, holding the last cracker, halted midway
to her mouth. "You're pulling my pinned–together leg,
right? No rumschpringe?"
Nora produced a second water bottle from her purse and
passed it to Violet. "I assure you, I don't joke about the
district I used to live in. They were very conservative and
tolerated no running–around time."
"How on earth did folks start courting, marry and then
add to the rapidly–growing Amish population? Or are
you saying most Harmonians lived and died lonesome,
celibate lives?"
It was Nora's turn to draw the attention of nearby
travelers with her outburst. "No, people did manage to meet
and fall in love, in spite of the incredible obstacles
placed in their path." She gazed out the opposite window as
memories of tall, handsome Lewis Miller flitted through her
mind. She could easily have fallen in love with him if not
for the monotony of central Maine...and if the
irresistible, black–eyed,
wild–as–an–eagle Elam Detweiler hadn't
changed everything for her. She shook off thoughts of both
men and turned back to her companion. "So you know Emily
Gingerich—Sally Detweiler's sister? I will be staying
with her, at least for a while, but we have never met."
"Of course, I know her. Paradise might be larger than
Harmony, but we have plenty of social occasions to meet
each other. Besides, Emily owns Grain of Life bakery."
Violet lowered her voice. "They are the best bakery in
town, but don't tell my mamm I said that. One of her
schwestern owns another of the shops."
Nora choked on her gulp of water. "So far you've shared
with me one secret to keep from your father and another
from your mother. We just met today. I could be the world's
biggest blabbermouth."
"You don't appear to be and I'm a good judge of
character." Violet studied Nora with narrowed eyes, not the
least bit nervous. "Tell me, are you up to the challenge,
Nora King, to not divulge the confidences you've heard
today?"
"You bet I am. It's been a long time since anybody
trusted me." Nora sighed, remembering Elam and his secrets.
Violet reached down to rub her leg, generating a
metal–against–metal sound. "My leg braces itch
like the devil sometimes."
"My brother–in–law, Thomas, said we're never
to invoke the evil one's name."
"Jah, daed says the same thing. But I'm not worried
about any fallen angel, since I never forget to say my
prayers." She winced, as though her scratching had touched
a sore spot. "Now that you're privy to several of my dark
secrets, you must confess one of yours." Violet settled her
hands in her lap.
Nora's head snapped around. "What do you mean? What
makes you think I have any?"
"Come on. My legs might malfunction, but there's nothing
wrong with my mind. You just moved halfway across the
country, to a town that's a complete mystery, to stay with
a couple you've never laid eyes on. I smell a secret as
strong as cheese left out in the sun." Her stare
practically bored holes through Nora. "Don't you trust me?"
Typical of her impetuous personality, it took Nora no
time to decide. Something about Violet appealed to her
enormously. She wanted nothing to nip their friendship in
the bud. "I fell in love in Harmony," she whispered, "with
the wrong sort of man. I don't know if he plans to stay
Amish, and he doesn't know I'm coming. But when he left
Maine, he headed to Paradise. So I pointed myself in this
direction; then put one foot in front of the other until I
got on his bus an hour ago." Nora leaned back in her
seat. "Now you know my secret."
Violet stared at her, speechless and
wide–eyed. "That is the most romantic thing I've ever
heard in my life. I will take your secret to my grave if
need be."
And if the expression of awe could be trusted as an
indicator, Nora had just made a new best friend.
* * * * *
"Coming," called Emily from the hallway. She pulled off
her apron, tossed it on the counter and swept open the
kitchen door. Before her stood a small woman, not more than
a girl, in a dusty cape and wrinkled brown dress. Her
clothes looked too big for her as though cut from a pattern
meant for someone else. But she had the prettiest green
eyes Emily had ever seen.
"Mrs. Gingerich?" the girl asked, peering up through
thick dark eyelashes. "I'm Nora King, Amy Detweiler's
sister. I've come from Maine."
"Thank goodness. For a moment, I feared you were here to
sell me a new set of pots and pans or some of those English
cosmetics." Emily grabbed her sleeve and pulled her into
the kitchen.
Nora waved at the hired van idling in the driveway as
she passed through the doorway. "No, ma'am, I hope my
arrival hasn't come at an inopportune time." She clutched
her duffle bag with both hands, gazing out from inside a
huge outer bonnet.
"I was joking, Nora. Please sit and get comfortable. I
expected you today and hoped you would enjoy the company of
Violet and Rosanna on the ride from St. Louis. Isn't that
Violet a hoot? She never fails to make me smile within five
minutes of being in the same room."
Nora removed her cloak and hideous bonnet; then hung
them both on a peg. "She seems nice and is really quite
funny. Danki for arranging them to meet me. I was a bit
discombobulated in St. Louis." She stood behind the chair
as though waiting for a certain sign or signal.
"Sit. Take a load off. They travel to Columbia once a
month for physical therapy and twice a year for a
specialist's re–evaluation of her legs. The doctors
want to keep them as strong as possible since Violet
insists on using crutches whenever possible." Emily filled
the kettle and placed it on the stove. "We'll have tea and
maybe a few cookies. Dinner will be in an hour or so."
Nora sat and folded her hands like a schoolgirl awaiting
an assignment or admonishment.
"Unless you're starving now, in which case, I'll make
you a sandwich."
"No, ma'am, tea will be fine. I can wait until supper."
Nora remained very still as though too frightened to move.
"Please, no more ma'ams. My name is Emily." Without the
bonnet, the girl had delicate, small–boned features.
Wisps of strawberry blond hair escaped her prayer kapp and
framed her face. "Are you sure you're the Nora King my
sister wrote to me about? Or have I admitted an imposter
into my house?"
Nora paled significantly. "I am she, although I have no
identification. Shall I describe Sally's home or her two
sons, Aden and Jeremiah?"
Emily placed a dozen oatmeal pecan cookies on a plate
and sat down across from the scared rabbit. "Since I have
never met my nephews yet, nor have I ever been to Sally's
home in Maine, I'll take your word for it. And I'll stop
teasing until we get to know each other better." She filled
two mugs with hot water and teabags. "Welcome to our home,
Nora. We're happy to have you and hope you'll soon like our
humble part of the world."
"Everyone does have better senses of humor here." Nora
took a cookie from the plate to nibble. "I'm afraid I lost
mine when I left Pennsylvania."
Her earnestness tugged on Emily's heartstrings. "Sally
told me what happened to your parents in a letter. You have
my deepest sympathy. A woman is never prepared to lose her
mamm even if she's seventy years old. At your tender age,
the loss is especially painful."
Nora met Emily's gaze over the rim of her cup. "I try to
focus on the future instead of the past. I did too much
staring out the window and crying in Harmony. I'm eager to
make a new beginning in Paradise."
"Then you've come to the right place. The Amish
population of Missouri had tripled in the last twenty
years. Folks move here from all over—Ohio, Indiana
and Illinois. Still plenty of cheap land and farming is
what ninety–nine percent of us still do."
Nora gasped. "That's not like Pennsylvania at all. Most
folks have had to learn a trade or start a business."
Emily stirred sugar into her tea. "My ehemann is part of
the one percent. His brothers work their family's land. But
Jonas started a lumberyard. It does fairly well, selling to
Amish and English, if you'll forgive me for some prideful
bragging."
"I will forgive just about anything if I can have
another cookie. They're delicious." A dimple formed in
Nora's cheek, the first sign her shyness might be ebbing.
Emily pushed the plate across the table. "Eat to your
heart's content. You can stand a few pounds, whereas I
cannot." She slapped one rounded hip. "Didn't my sister
feed you while you lived there?"
"Sally certainly tried to, but I get migraines from
time–to–time. They take my appetite away for
days." She pressed her fingertips to a spot between her
eyebrows.
"Migraines can be triggered by stress. I aim to see you
relaxed and not worrying so much."
Nora reached for another cookie and consumed it in three
bites. "Was your Old Order district formed by people moving
from Pennsylvania?"
"No, we were settled sixty years ago by a group who came
from Iowa."
"Iowa?" she asked. "Where is that?"
Emily smiled. "And to think you travelled all the way
from practically the Atlantic Ocean. The Lord be praised!
He pities those with a poor knowledge of geography."
"I prayed plenty on the way here. I took the Downeaster
train from Portland, Maine, to Boston; the Lake Shore
Limited from Boston to Chicago; then caught the Texas Eagle
to St. Louis. I tried to learn the layout of my country
along the way. What are the states near Missouri?" Nora
possessed the innocent, curious expression of a child.
"Kansas is to the west; Arkansas is due south; Illinois
lies to the east; plus a corner of us touches both Kentucky
and Tennessee. A long time ago, I pronounced it
Ar–kansas, so it rhymed with our western neighbor.
Finally, an Englischer in my shop corrected me. She
whispered the right pronunciation softly so I wouldn't be
embarrassed. But what's to be ashamed of? I had never heard
anybody say the word before." Both of them laughed.
"Those Iowa Amish—do you think they're similar to
the Maine districts?" asked Nora, taking another cookie.
Emily realized where Nora's queries were headed. "Sally
wrote to me about Harmony's no–rumschpringe policy.
And about the fact you haven't been baptized or joined the
church yet. I assured her that no one would pressure you to
commit to the Amish church until you're ready."
Nora released an audible breath of air, relaxing for the
first time since her arrival. "I'm happy to hear that. It
wasn't so much they pressured me, but every time I turned
around I was breaking another rule. Truly, Harmony was
simply too small to be my cup–of–tea." She
lifted her cup and drained the contents. "Violet mentioned
that your bishop allows social events for young people,
regular–type courting, and jobs for unmarried women.
Sounds more like what I'm used to after being raised in
Lancaster County."
Emily considered her reply as she boiled a pot of water
for noodles and reheated yesterday's stew. Should she
mention their district will soon become far less liberal if
one of their ministers gets his way? She glanced back at
Nora and decided to hold off with full disclosure. The
woman had just arrived in a strange land where she knew no
one...and the bus back to St. Louis doesn't even run
tomorrow. "We're more liberal than the districts near
Seymour, Missouri," she said. "But why don't you wait to
learn all the details? Let me show you your new room. You
can bring up your bag and start to unpack."
Nora rose to her feet gracefully. "Will I share the room
with your daughter? Sally didn't mention whether or not you
had kinner."
"We haven't been blessed...yet." Emily hoped her
greatest sorrow wasn't obvious as she walked toward the
doorway.
"Danki for opening your home to me." Nora followed on
her heels. "I so wanted to move here after Sally described
her childhood and rumschpringe while courting Thomas."
"Jah, but I wish he hadn't taken my sister so far away.
At least she's happy in Maine, so that's what counts."
Emily led the way up to the bedrooms and chose her words
for the second delicate topic in almost the same number of
minutes. "Sally mentioned her brother–in–law's
relocation had something to do with your coming to
Missouri." Emily opened the door to the guest room, which
would be Nora's for as long as she wanted it.
She walked straight to the blanket chest and deposited
her bag. "Partially, I suppose. Elam and I became friends
when I lived in Harmony. But it was Sally's description of
Paradise that fascinated me." Nora smiled with genuine
warmth. "The fact Sally's kin still lived here helped me
decide, since I didn't want to return to Pennsylvania. I
hope to run into Elam if he's around. He mentioned taking a
grand tour in his new car. He even planned to see the Ozark
Mountains, wherever they are."
"He brought a car?" asked Emily, shaking her head. She
pulled down the window shade against the night. "The Ozarks
are in Arkansas, to the south. My cousin said Elam lives
somewhere in the county. But he hasn't shown his face here
or at a preaching service yet, I might add." She fluffed
both of the pillows. "You'll find him, I suppose, if it's
meant to be." Emily walked to the door. "You've got time to
unpack and take a nap before dinner. Come down about five
o'clock. I wound the clock on your bedside table."
Nora hurried toward her and embraced shyly. "I am so
grateful to you."
"There's nothing wrong with making a fresh start." Emily
hugged the thin woman, patting her back.
Who had made her afraid of her own shadow? And what had
gone on her sister's home? Thomas Detweiler seemed like a
good man when he'd met, married, and taken away her sister
five years ago.
* * * * *
"Giddy–up there, Nell. I can walk faster than
you're pulling this buggy." Solomon Trask shook the reins
above the mare's back, but did not slap them down. No sense
in startling the old girl. She probably enjoyed the warm
April sunshine on her flanks, the sweet smell of apple
blossoms tickling her nose, and the absence of traffic on
the county road—increasingly rare for Saturdays.
The horse dutifully picked up the pace to a tad quicker
than he could walk.
Solomon tilted his head back, letting sunshine reach his
face beneath the hat brim. How he loved spring! When men
plowed their fields and planted seed corn or soybeans that
would provide sustenance and a cash crop for the year, as
Old Order Amish have done for centuries. Overhead,
songbirds filled the crystalline blue sky, red–tailed
hawks kited on wind currents, and water fowl crossed the
Great Plains back to Canada. Life was good. The Lord had
richly blessed him with a fraa and six fine kinner,
including four boys that had built their homes nearby. His
sons had taken over farm duties so he could minister to the
district, keeping them on the
straight–and–narrow path. If he failed in his
responsibilities, the Lord might not continue to bless
their growing community.
Since drawing which made him one of two district
ministers for life, he had endeavored to adhere to the
Bible. God hadn't provided His holy book as mere
suggestions or helpful advice. His word was law, and only
through strict adherence can a man find direction in this
life and salvation for the next.
A hollow, uncomfortable rumble in his belly reminded
Solomon it had been hours since lunch and at this pace, it
would be hours before supper. Should he stop to buy a dozen
cookies at the next farm—one of the district's three
bakeries? After all, his wife would appreciate an extra pie
or two in case she hadn't found time to bake. Pricking up
her ears, Nell trotted up the drive as though oats and a
good rub–down waited up ahead.
However, Nell hadn't heard the whinny of another horse,
but the sound of a car radio. Loud, discordant music blared
from a pickup truck parked in the side yard of the
Morganstein farm. Solomon tied the reins to a hitching post
and climbed from the buggy slowly. As usual, his back
spasmed from sitting too long.
"Guder nachmittag," greeted one of the Morganstein sons.
"Good afternoon to you," said the minister. "Could you
bring my mare a bucket of water and maybe a little grain?"
The boy nodded and scampered off while Solomon trudged
past the truck. He headed toward Levi's leather shop, an
outbuilding that had become popular on Fridays and
Saturdays with English tourists. Solomon hadn't gone twenty
paces when a sight stopped him in his tracks. Two of Levi's
sons, both in their late teens, were talking with two
English girls of around the same age. Doubtlessly, the
girls belonged to the red truck. One stood hip–shot,
swigging from a soda bottle, while the other moved her body
suggestively to the beat of the infernal music. Solomon's
gut twisted into a knot. Both girls wore shorts far above
their knees and blouses that didn't come close to covering
their stomachs. He approached the foursome with building
ire.
Luke Morganstein spotted him and spoke first. "Hullo,
Minister Trask. My dad's in his shop and my mother is the
house."
Solomon noticed the boy spoke in English, not their
dialect of German. He addressed the Englischers. "Where are
your parents?"
The taller of the two girls smiled brightly. "My dad's
buying a new jacket. You guys make the best leather stuff
in the state. And my mom's over there checking out your
free–range chickens. She loves the idea of
no–cages and will buy every last egg you've got."
Solomon followed the girl's long purple fingernail in
the direction it pointed. The sight made his jaw drop
agape. A middle–aged woman in sweatshirt and tight
blue jeans focused her camera, snapping pictures of the
youngest Morganstein child, a girl of around three years
old. The woman was actually posing the child by the
henhouse and by the low fence. Bile inched up his throat,
souring his mouth. Sol turned to the teenagers. "Go back to
your truck, turn off that loud music, and stay there if you
don't have additional clothes to put on."
The pair stared, blinked, and then bolted down the
drive. The Morganstein sons vanished into the barn before
Solomon could take two steps toward the chicken coop. "Stop
that," he said. He hadn't raised his voice but the woman
froze and then turned like a corned animal.
"Stop what?" she asked, glancing around nervously.
"Do not take pictures of our people. They are graven
images and are forbidden."
She blushed to deep crimson. "Sorry, I didn't know that.
What about chickens and goats. Can I photograph them?" She
sounded utterly sincere.
Solomon sighed. "Yes, animals and buildings are fine.
Good day to you." He picked up the little girl who had
started to cry and strode toward the house. Dealing with
Englischers wasn't his calling—dealing with members
of his congregation was. He opened the back door without
knocking, a common practice among Amish, and stepped into
an overly–warm kitchen.
"Guder nachmittag, Sol." greeted Sarah Morganstein. "You
look hot. How about a cool drink of water?" She wiped her
palms down her apron.
When he set the child down, she scampered for her
mother's skirt. "Jah, that would be gut." He breathed in
and out, trying to control his temper.
Sarah poured and handed him a drink. "I suppose you
heard from the deacon that Levi worked on the Sabbath. He
hadn't intended to, and it was only one time, but he had to
fill a large order of leather chaps on a tight deadline. Of
course, the deacon stopped by that particular Sunday and
found Levi in his shop." She tugged on her dangling kapp
ribbons. "He's mighty sorry and told Jonas he would never
do it again."
The water glass almost slipped from Sol's sweaty fingers
as he sorted out the new information, although he had no
idea what "chaps" were. "No, I hadn't heard. I wanted to
say your sons are cavorting with half–dressed English
girls and a woman was taking photographs of your little
one." He spoke in a raspy whisper.
Sarah blanched very pale and drew her daughter to her
side. "I didn't know about the pictures. The tourists buy
much from Levi and the bakery, helping pay the medical
bills from my last female surgery. But I'll keep a better
eye on little Josie and my boys."
"See that you do." Solomon drained the glass in several
swallows. "Tell your ehemann he broke the Fourth
Commandment and must confess on his knees on Sunday." Then
he marched from the house to his buggy without either
buying pies or speaking to Levi.
This wasn't the first time he suspected members were
doing things they shouldn't on the Lord's Day. He would
take the matter up with the entire congregation—and
the sooner the better—before things spiraled out of
control.