Summer of Secrets by Charlotte Hubbard Page A

miserably. “Don’t rightly know,” she murmured. “Last two nights I’ve been havin’ the most wicked nightmares about that girl—”
    “ Jah , she looks like somethin’ that stepped out of a bad dream,” Rhoda commiserated.
    “—and I can’t seem to stop thinkin’ on her—on the whole fact of her existence,” she confessed. “So I’m not sleepin’. I—I’m truly sorry, Rhoda. Last thing I want is to upset you or Mamma.”
    “Mamma’s got a lot on her mind.” Rhoda plucked a towel from the sink and gently blotted her twin’s tears. “But remember when we were wee little, cud-dlin’ in the dark so’s the monsters under the bed wouldn’t eat us?”
    Rachel’s quivering grin shone through her tears. “ Jah , we reached our limit callin’ out in the night for Mamma. Dat had no idea how lonesome—and scary!—it got when he moved us into separate rooms and told us to stay put.”
    “And then it got really scary when he passed, ain’t so?” She let out a shaky breath, wondering how long it would be before she could discuss their father without wanting to cry. But that sadness wouldn’t serve her purpose now. “Who’d’ve thought we’d be runnin’ a restaurant with Mamma? Payin’ all the bills and gettin’ by better than anybody predicted. All our friends thought we’d just go to pieces, but we showed them what we were made of! And what we could do with God’s help.”
    “ Jah , there’s that. Mamma’s a strong woman.”
    “Well, so are you , Rachel. And no matter what happens—Tiffany or bad dreams or whatnot—you’ll always have me.” Rhoda smiled, drawing the corners of her sister’s lips up with her fingertips, like they’d done when they were kids. “Even after ya get hitched, and ya need to steam like a teakettle, I’ll understand ya like nobody else can.”
    “ Jah ... jah . Fer gut and forever, Sister.”
    “ Fer gut and forever.”
    For a moment the two of them hugged each other hard, surrounded by the rhythmic thrum of the washer and the rich scent of chicken and vegetables. Together they sighed. And together they eased apart. “Better splash your face,” Rhoda murmured.
    “Mamma always knows when we’ve been cryin’. She’ll be here any minute.”
    Nodding, Rachel went to the sink and ran cold water into her hands. As she patted her face, Rhoda looked toward the lane to see if their mother had finished for the day. “ Jah , here she comes. I’ll keep her talkin’ a minute—see if we’ve got a nice ripe tomato in the garden. Ya gonna be all right?”
    Rachel resembled a little girl who’d just been pulled from a raging river—even if those waters only raced through her mind as emotions. But she nodded and motioned for Rhoda to go on outside.
     
     
    “Feels gut to set a spell,” Mamma murmured after they’d cleaned their plates. “The chicken and veggies tasted mighty fine, girls. But then, like I’ve told ya, even a peanut butter sandwich seems a feast when somebody else makes it!”
    Rhoda widened her eyes playfully. “ Ach , Mamma! Had I known ya wanted peanut butter instead of—”
    Their mother smiled and reached across the table for their hands. “Ya can’t know how I appreciate comin’ home to find the house redded up and the laundry goin’. Denki , daughters.”
    For a moment they held the connection—affection like they hadn’t shown when Dat sat at the head of the table and decided how their days would proceed, and what they’d do when the day’s work was done. Truth be told, the work never seemed to be done, yet a satisfaction passed along the triangle of their joined hands with the gentle rhythm of their pulse.
    “Dishes or laundry?” Rachel murmured.
    “I’ll hang the clothes.” Rhoda stood, then pointed imperiously toward the porch before steering her mother out there. “Mamma, after such a busy week as we’ve had, you’re due for some time in the swing with your feet up, ain’t so?”
    Mamma waved her off.