Fraying at the Edge by Cindy Woodsmall Page B

“It’s just leftovers from supper, but they’re still warm.”
    “Denki.” Homemade mac and cheese had never looked so good, and she’d given him an extra-generous portion of beef tips. He forked the beef and noodles together. “
Ach,
that’s good.” He felt better and more like himself with each bite.
    Cilla set a glass of water on the table beside him. She waited quietly while he ate, and they watched as the late afternoon turned into the dark autumn night. “What about Skylar? Couldn’t she be enough help that you could keep your job?”
    “I don’t know that she’ll warm up to the idea of helping out at the café, but even if she does, I doubt she’ll be much help. She never offers to do anything, including putting her own dishes in the sink. Daed won’t put up with much more of that, but I doubt she’s ever held a job or had a chore list.”
    Cilla blinked, her eyes wide. “Oh.” She leaned back in her rocking chair, staring forward. “I can see why you’re thinking about quitting.”
    “Ya, but jobs for poor Amish folk don’t come easy. Not unless your grandfather or Daed or an uncle owns a business.”
    “It seems to me that you have your answer, don’t you?” Cilla buttoned her sweater. “I could help at the café a couple of days a week. With both of our efforts, we might equal one slightly skilled person.”
    “That’s very generous.” Especially considering her health. “But I’m not in favor of that idea.”
    “Why?”
    “Most important, your health. And we don’t have money to pay employees yet.”
    “I’m fine now, could be for months. That’s how CF works for me. And I don’t want to be paid. Being a volunteer is perfect, no?”
    “I…I don’t know, Cilla.”
    “Would it help if I begged?” She clasped her hands together.
    “No.”
    “Gut.”
She stuck out her hand. “We have a deal.”
    Abram hesitated. She was definitely pushing for her way and for all the right reasons. “Deal.”
    He shook her hand, noticing how very soft it felt in his.
    What would it be like if he never let go?

“S weetheart,” Isaac said, “if you keep that up, you’re going to wear off the enamel.”
    Lovina glanced in his direction. Her husband peered at her over the top of his newspaper. His gentle smile said he understood, but it did little to settle her emotions.
    “At least then I would get past one hard coating around here.” Lovina turned away from the stovetop she had been attacking with a rag. She would be encouraged if she could see one tiny victory in penetrating Skylar’s armor. Despite helping with some chores yesterday, the girl skillfully avoided contact as much as possible through sleep, sarcasm, and indifference. Maybe those were defense mechanisms, but she seemed to detest everything about the situation—their faith, their large family, and their lack of electricity, cars, phones, entertainment, and education. They had to talk to her.
    Isaac folded the newspaper and laid it on the table beside him. “Skylar’s only been here five days.”
    “Ya, five days without her letting down her guard once. Five days without her setting aside her disdain for us long enough to have one truly good moment, a moment where she connects. All she sees are poor people who aren’t worth her time.”
    “Do you think Ariana is embracing Brandi and Nicholas any better?”
    Lovina eased into a chair. “May God forgive me, but I hope not. They’re…worldly, probably dangling every shiny bauble known to man in front of her.” Did feeling that way make Lovina a hypocrite? She wanted Ariana to return unscathed by her new world, but she wanted Skylar changed by the power of God.
    Isaac glanced at the clock, but he said nothing. Usually at this time of the morning they would be busy with their workday, but they remained in the kitchen, hoping Skylar would wake and the three of them could talk.
    “I don’t know if I should tell you…”
    Isaac frowned. “If we’re going to make