Read Online A Secret Identity by Gayle Roper - Free Book Online

I became quiet and invisible. He almost smiled when I got good grades, so I got good grades, always hoping. He was almost impressed if I excelled in whatever pursuit I followed, from academic teams to science fairs. I tried everything I could think of to please him, but I don’t think I ever got a compliment.”
    I leaned my elbow on the table and looked at the handsome, competent, well-educated man across the table from me. I concentrated on his words, trying to see the deeper truths behind them, marveling that he was telling me all this information. I was willing to bet he rarely talked about his father and certainly didn’t talk about their painful relationship. And certainly not with someone he barely knew. I felt complimented beyond reason. He looked up suddenly and saw my intense look.
    He smiled wryly and shook his head. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to whine.”
    “Hey.” I reached across the table and put my hand on his arm. “I didn’t hear whining. I heard part of a life story. I was just imagining that little boy sitting in an overstuffed chair too big for him, his legs sticking straight out in front of him as he studied the encyclopedia so he could converse with his father.”
    He nodded thoughtfully. “But it was a sofa with a brown print that was ugly as sin, and it was Paradise Lost .”
    I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry as I put my hand back in my lap. “We, on the other hand, saw all the Star Wars and Indiana Jones movies.”
    “Sounds good to me,” he said. “Now what do you want for dessert?” This last was asked as our waitress began clearing the table. He smiled and rubbed his hands, apparently glad for the opportunity to relieve the emotional tenor of our conversation. “How about some shoofly pie?”
    “What’s shoofly pie? It sounds awful.”
    “It’s a molasses pie,” answered the waitress, obviously used to the question.
    “A molasses pie?” It still sounded awful. “Filled with flies?”
    “It’s delicious,” Todd assured me.
    “I’ll take coconut custard,” I said emphatically.
    “Warm shoofly with whipped cream,” Todd said. After the waitress walked away, he looked at me. “You should have trusted me on the pie. You’ll be sorry.”
    When the desserts came, I looked at his. “It’s brown! What is it with you Pennsylvania Dutch and brown food?”
    “I’m not Pennsylvania Dutch,” Todd said. “And what is it with you tourists that you won’t try new stuff?”
    “Speaking of being a tourist,” I said, enjoying my nice, creamy, familiar coconut custard, “I’d like to find someplace to live besides a motel. Do you know of a boarding house or an apartment or something that might be available and won’t require a year’s lease be signed?”
    He thought for a minute. “You know, I just might.”
    I looked at him hopefully.
    “What would you think about living on an Amish farm?”
    I stared at him. “You’re kidding.”
    “I’ve a friend who used to be Amish before his rumspringa .”
    “His what?”
    “His wild-oats sowing. His teenage rebellion.”
    “Ah.”
    “Anyway, he was in a motorcycle accident and is now a paraplegic. His parents, who are still Old Order Amish, brought him home to the annex on the house and brought in electricity and a phone for him because they realize he’ll never be Amish again. Anyway, he rents the rooms on the second floor of the annex so he can have some income. I happen to know the rooms are newly available because the woman who used to rent them just got married.”
    “An Amish farm? Cows and horses and buggies?”
    “And don’t forget the smelly barns,” Todd added. “And some of the nicest people you’ll ever meet. And Jake put in a bathroom on the second floor after Kristie moved out.”
    I looked at him, startled. “What did Kristie have to use? An outhouse?”
    Todd laughed. “Don’t worry. She had indoor plumbing. She just had to share the family bathroom on the first floor. You won’t have to do