Davey's Daughter by Linda Byler Page A

sensible choices, Sarah, but this is not one of them, allowing yourself this intimacy with him before you are dating. It’s just not good, and I’m afraid nothing good will come of it.”
    Sarah said nothing.
    “I’ll have to ask you to promise me you’ll speak to Matthew about this.”
    “I can’t, Mam!” Sarah wailed.
    “Why not?”
    “It’s asking too much. It’s…it’s all I have.”
    Sinking down beside Sarah, Mam realized from this statement just how great the danger really was, and she quaked in her shoes.
    Oh my dear, small Mervin! I grieve for you when you are so safe, in a much better place with the Heavenly Father and all the angels. Here on earth, we are faced by this real adversary. How should she go about this?
    In her wise way, Mam decided to wait. She needed to talk to Davey. They had a Christmas dinner to attend, and Sarah must have a bit of time as well.
    So she held her troubled daughter in her arms, rested her forehead on Sarah’s cheek, and told her to be very careful and to pray. God always answers the prayers of the humble, and she had so much more to offer Matthew — a good personality, a sweetness of character, and, of course, she was pretty, if that meant something.
    Sarah laughed softly. She shook her head, but she knew without a doubt that she could not do what Mam required of her. It was too much.

B y March, the customers at the farmer’s market in New Jersey were always impatient for the arrival of new spring onions, red radishes, and asparagus from Lancaster County. Sarah worked at the bakery, which took up one part of the huge brick building where many vendors plied their wares.
    Today, Sarah was in a sunny mood, laughing at a heavyset matron who asked her why anyone could ever be anxious when these warm cinnamon rolls were so delicious and available the whole year round.
    She stood behind a plexiglass wall, rolling a strip of soft dough for the cinnamon rolls, the wooden rolling pin making a clacking noise as she bore down on both handles, her arms rounded, muscular.
    “Do you have a moment?”
    Sarah looked up, surprised to find her friend, Ashley, from the leather goods stand. She was a thin, pale girl who seemed as if her world was filled with anxiety.
    They had more than just a passing friendship now. Sarah felt sorry for Ashley and was often unable to put her large, frightened eyes out of her mind.
    Sarah asked for permission to take a break, and the two girls walked together through the market. They slid into a booth close to the soft pretzel stand, where the warm, yeasty smells made their stomachs rumble.
    “Did you eat?” Sarah asked.
    “No.”
    “You want to?”
    “It’s okay. I don’t have any money.”
    “I’ll buy you a pretzel.”
    “No.”
    Ashley had never allowed Sarah to learn much about her, other than the fact that her father owned the leather goods shop. But she was a nice girl even if she was timid and shy. And she had shown an interest in the survivors of the latest barn fire, where the house had burned as well as the barn.
    Ashley wore a dull, washed-out sweatshirt, not quite green and not gray, her hair hanging thinly on either side of her face, and a….
    Sarah gasped.
    “Ashley! What happened to your eye?”
    “Oh, it’s nothing. It…I…like…I hit the corner of a cupboard door. At night. It was dark. Dumb.”
    Ashley bent to retrieve her purse, winced, then let it go, placing both hands on the table before picking at her fingernail, examining her hands very closely.
    “Ashley. Is something wrong?”
    “No.”
    The word was emphatic, followed by a swift shaking of her head. Suddenly, she gripped the table’s edge, her eyes opened wide, and she met Sarah’s eyes with intensity.
    “Well, not really. But…”
    Sarah waited.
    “Since you’re dating, do you, like, know your boyfriend really well? Do you know where he goes and what he does?”
    Catching the inside of her lip with her teeth, Ashley’s eyes were pools of raw