Plain Again by Sarah Price Page B

a depression, and her relationship with Menno Zook had ended. The family had taken a long time to grieve Aaron’s death, as if something like that could ever be forgotten. As a result, they had withdrawn into themselves and friendships had been forgotten.
    But life had continued for the rest of the g’may .
    Amanda pushed her cart next to her friend and reached out to touch the woman’s arm.
    “Hannah!” She smiled. “It’s right gut to see you!”
    The woman turned from the bags of pasta that she had been surveying and eyed Amanda. It took her a minute to recognize the woman who stood before her. Despite her simple dress, Amanda was not wearing Amish clothing, nor was she wearing a prayer kapp . “Amanda? Amanda Beiler?”
    “It’s Amanda Diaz now,” she replied, feeling the warmth of a blush covering her cheeks. Certainly, Hannah was aware that she had left the community and married the Englischer. The Amish grapevine was too strong to have ignored that tidbit of gossip, of that Amanda was sure and certain. “How are you?” She didn’t really need to ask that, for Hannah’s expanding waistline told Amanda all that she needed to know about her friend: married and expecting a baby.
    “Just fine. Reckon I should ask you the same, ain’t so?” Her friend smiled, a warm and welcoming smile. “Had heard that you were back in town. Awful sorry to hear about your daed . Hope he’s doing well.”
    Amanda nodded. “He’s soon to recover,” she said. “Doing as well as can be expected. Not walking right now, but the doctors have hope that he will.”
    The door to the store opened and two men walked in, speaking in Pennsylvania Dutch to each other. Amanda heard the word photographer in the midst of their conversation and lifted her head to look at them. The men walked past the aisle, one of them noticing her standing there. He paused, narrowing his eyes, and mumbled, “Troovel,” under his breath: trouble.
    Hannah averted her eyes, embarrassed for her friend.
    The word hit Amanda like a slap and she cringed.
    “I . . . I best get going,” Amanda said softly and, without waiting for a response, hurried down the rest of the aisle, pushing the cart before her as if it were a shield. She finished her shopping, her head down and refusing to look at anyone as she hurried through the store. She caught sight of the two men standing near an elderly couple, their tongues wagging and one of them gesturing toward her. Ignoring them, Amanda pushed the cart to the counter. She felt tears stinging at her eyes but refused to let them fall.
    “How’s your daed ?” the woman at the cash register asked as she began to ring up Amanda’s order.
    It took her a minute to realize that the woman was speaking to her. “Excuse me?”
    “Your daed . Is he doing better now?”
    “Oh,” Amanda started. “ Ja , ja , much better. Should be coming home next week, I reckon.”
    The worker continued ringing up the order. “And your sister? I hear her wedding was announced just before your daed ’s accident?”
    “ Ja , just before his stroke.”
    “They’ll be returning here, then?”
    Amanda nodded. “To visit. Around Thanksgiving week, I reckon.”
    The woman glanced over her shoulder toward the door. “Reckon you’ll leave then, ja ?” She looked back at Amanda, leveling a steady eye at the young woman. “And taking your friends with you?”
    It took a moment for Amanda to realize exactly what the cashier meant. Slowly, it dawned on her that she was talking about the photographers. Amanda took a breath and squared her shoulders, refusing to let the woman see the pain she had felt from the hurtful insinuation of the woman’s words. It was clear that the woman was telling Amanda that she was not wanted at the store, not if she brought with her the attention and cameras of the Englische.
    The way she had been treated by the other customers and now by the cashier shocked Amanda. Hadn’t it been just a few months ago that