Forever Amish by Kate Lloyd Page A

died years ago—which didn’t explain why he never visited their graves. When I got home, I’d demand he tell me where the cemetery was; I should be more persistent.
    â€œIf you worked all day, you’d have no trouble with sleep,” Reuben said to me. He licked his fork, then bellowed out a yawn. “Jeremy and Peter, get in here and thank the Lord.” The two young men strode into the kitchen.
    After a throaty noise, Reuben initiated a quick silent prayer. Rhoda, Lizzie, Jeremy, and Peter sat with him, their heads bowed. I had to wonder what was weighing on their minds, then reminded myself farming was an exhausting occupation. The wind and rain could be flattening their newly planted alfalfa or removing the chicken coop’s roof.
    When finished, Reuben aimed his voice at me again. “I’ll be reading the Bible in German,” he said.
    Was he trying to humiliate me? I smothered a chuckle. German was the one foreign language I halfway understood. Not that I wanted to listen to him pontificate.
    â€œI could ask Dat to read the Bible in English.” Lizzie stood and moved to the sink. She rinsed the dishes and flatware with vigor and arranged them on the drying rack. “You’d do that, Dat, wouldn’t you?”
    He yanked his scraggly beard. “I ’spose.”
    â€œIch bedank mich, Dat.”
    â€œPlease join us,” Rhoda said to me as she stowed leftovers into the refrigerator. “Then you can play checkers with Jeremy and Peter.”
    â€œOr Scrabble,” Lizzie said. “That’s my favorite.”
    Scrabble was my favorite board game, too, but I wondered what language they’d use. And the spelling?
    â€œI’m comfy right here for now.” I sank my teeth into the best peanut butter cookie I’d ever tasted, then pushed the back of my head against the rocking chair as if there were nowhere I’d rather be. After all, how would I entertain myself if I were at home? Would I be waiting for Donald’s call? No, I would have broken down by now and crawled to him, when, in fact, he owed me an apology for being selfish and not considering Pops’s welfare.
    The back door shuddered open and Armin trudged in, lugging my dripping wet canvas bag. He’d removed his jacket. I found myself admiring his brawny physique and his damp curling hair.
    â€œThank you.” I stood up, hoping no one had noticed my ogling. Rhoda rushed over with a towel to wipe my bag and mop the puddle.
    Reuben got to his feet. “ Kumm shnell —come quick—Lizzie and Rhodie.” Then he left the room. Although cantankerous, he’d given Rhoda a pet name, telling me he loved her.
    â€œYou want me to help?” I asked Lizzie as I sent Armin a sideways glance, watching him pat his hair with a towel. No two ways about it; he was more interesting than he should have been. I had no business getting to know him. We might as well be from opposite ends of the globe. And I was engaged to be married. Had I turned fickle? No, I wouldn’t allow myself to be.
    â€œDat wouldn’t like it, Sally.” Standing at the sink, Lizzie scrubbed a pan and rinsed it. “I need to pull my weight around here.”
    I contained a smile. She couldn’t weigh much more than one hundred pounds. “I don’t mind,” I said.
    â€œNee, I’m used to it.”
    â€œYou’re our guest, so please relax.” Rhoda dabbed the floor around my bag and handed the damp towel to Armin. “Thank you,” she said to him.
    â€œ Gern gschehne —you’re welcome.” Armin took the towels into the darkened back room and hung them by the small sink.
    â€œThanks for getting my things,” I said, but he didn’t answer or return.
    â€œIs he shy?” I felt disappointed he hadn’t given me eye contact again.
    Lizzie chuckled. “Our Armin shy? Nee. Every Maedel —young unmarried woman—in the district has