Forever Amish by Kate Lloyd

did. Or was she conning all of us? I needed to keep up my guard.
    â€œYah, okay, you can work at the store tomorrow,” he said. “But don’t think of workin’ on Sunday or any other day after that, no matter what. I already have the bishop on my back.”
    â€œYah, for more things than one.”
    He stiffened and she stepped away.
    â€œDat, the store isn’t even open on Sundays.” She straightened her cap and tossed its strings over her shoulders. “No need to be naerfich about that or anything else.”
    â€œI ain’t nervous,” he said. She served him another wedge of blackberry pie. “Doesn’t your Mrs. Martin have any Englisch girls working for her?” he asked.
    â€œShe did, but Peggy moved with her family to Maryland.” Lizzie let out a wistful sigh. “I’ll miss her ever so much.”
    â€œAin’t our problem your Mrs. Martin didn’t think to hire a replacement.” He forked into the pie. “You did tell her you were quitting, didn’t you?”
    â€œYah, but she didn’t know she was going to fall off the stepping stool this morning and hurt her ankle, now, did she?”
    I noticed Armin was gone, as was the sweet older couple, Rhoda’s parents. Lizzie darted about the room gathering plates, flatware, and glasses, and slid them into sudsy water. My first impulse was to offer to help since I wasn’t paying for my room.
    As if hearing my thoughts, Rhoda said, “Sally, please have a seat and try one of my cookies, won’t ya?” She steered me toward a rocking chair near a black, four-legged, cast-iron cook stove not in use.
    â€œYou have two stoves?” I said.
    â€œI couldn’t bear to give my Mudder’s up when we replaced it with our new gas oven.” She stroked its cool surface. “We use it when cooking for large groups, like church service and work frolics and barn raisings. And it warms this room in winter.”
    No central heating? Great, I’d freeze tonight. I noticed a stack of split wood sitting at its side.
    â€œKumm right here.” She straightened the cushioned seat.
    As I lowered myself onto the rocker, I felt comforted and swathed in warmth, like a baby being lulled to sleep. My father and I didn’t own a rocking chair. I should buy him one for his birthday, I decided. I set my purse at my feet and pushed myself into motion with my toes.
    I wondered if Mom had cradled me in her arms when I was a newborn. My past was as blurry as fog hovering above a swamp. No memories of my parents hugging or kissing each other. But they’d had me. An act of love, or was I an accident conceived in the backseat of a car? Mom was out there somewhere—or had she died? Did Pops harbor a dream she’d return to us—as I did? And she’d love me, her darling, dearest daughter. Or had she birthed five other children and forgotten I existed? Why wouldn’t Pops give me the real scoop?
    Lizzie set a cup of coffee on a small table at my elbow.
    â€œNo, thanks. I don’t dare drink caffeine before bedtime.” Especially tonight while my mind squirmed with troubling thoughts.
    Lizzie removed the coffee cup and slurped down the brown liquid. “I’ll make you herbal tea.” She flushed water into a kettle and placed it on the stovetop. “Mommy Leah’s special blend for a good night’s sleep.”
    â€œYah,” Rhoda said. She laid a peanut butter cookie atop a plate, on the small table. “My mamm drinks it every evening. You can stay put while Reuben reads the Bible, if you like, or come join us when we go in the living room. You’re most welcome.”
    I felt another sliver of jealousy as I watched Lizzie and Rhoda exchange loving glances. And Lizzie had grandparents practically living with them somewhere in this sprawling house. I’d never met my grandparents. I’d asked Pops about his folks, but he said they’d