Read Online Down from the Mountain by Elizabeth Fixmer - Free Book Online Page B

Mother Rose is heaven bound, alleluia. Mother Rose is the best around, allelu-u-ia.” We sing it using one name at a time until we’ve gone through everyone’s.
    Annie leans in to me, and I lean in to Jacob. I peek at the twins’ faces. Their attention never wavers.
    God, thank you for bringing me to Ezekiel. Thank you that Esther has the heart not to report me for dropping the beads. Please help me to accept your word through him and to follow your will.

Seven
    “That’s it!” Rachel says, beaming. “We’re sold out.”
    The two of us are at the Boulder flea market where we’ve hardly been able to take a breath since we opened at eight.
    “And it’s only eleven,” I add, shaking my head. “Now I really don’t have to worry about Mother Esther reporting me.”
    “Of course not,” Rachel says. “We made more money than ever before, but we could have sold so much more.”
    Rachel locks the cash box while I begin folding the chairs and table. It’s been just the two of us today because Esther managed to convince Ezekiel that a third person isn’t necessary on these trips to Boulder. Like most of the women in Righteous Path, she hates going out in public. When she gets back from town, she takes at least two showers to remove the heathen poison from her body.
    My eyes pan as many booths as I can take in—food booths that sell hot dogs and Cokes, one that sells cotton candy. That one always has a line of excited kids and harried parents. In the line down from me are booths with pies and homemade canned goods, sausage and honey, aprons and pot holders, and all sorts of crafts. It all feels so rich. My mouth waters at the thought of tasting some of each. But I get nervous around so many people. Why they want to cram together, practically touching each other, seems strange to me. I have to take deep breaths and look up at the sky every few minutes so I don’t feel suffocated.
    When it’s not so crowded, I love to watch all of them. I especially love listening to their conversations because their words reveal how they think.
    “Excuse me.” The face of a vibrant, pretty woman interrupts my scanning and imagining. She looks to be in her early twenties and is wearing one of the necklaces I made.
    “Can I help you?” I ask.
    “Thank you,” she says. “I’m looking for the jewelry booth. From the directions, it should be right about here.”
    “This is it,” Rachel chimes in. “Is there a problem?”
    “Oh no,” she says. “My roommate got me this necklace, and I just love the design. I was hoping to see others, but it looks like you’re closing up.”
    “Thank you. But, yes, we’re sold out,” Rachel says.
    The girl nods. “I’m not surprised. This is beautiful.” She fondles the necklace she’s wearing. “I make jewelry too—just for myself. I was wondering where you get your supplies.”
    “Beads Galore,” I say.
    The girl looks surprised. “Really? They’re too expensive for me!”
    Rachel and I exchange glances. If there are cheaper places to get supplies, we sure don’t know about them.
    “Are there other bead stores around here?” Rachel asks.
    “No. You’d have to go to Denver and they’re not a lot cheaper, but have you gone online to shop?” she asks. “You have to buy in quantity but you can get everything cheaper. Sometimes you pay less than half the price.”
    Disappointment is written all over my face. “We don’t use computers,” I say. There I go again, blurting something out that no outsider needs to know.
    The girl looks puzzled. She eyes us up and down. A new understanding dawns on her face. “Oh, you must be from a cult.” Her face turns red and she slaps her forehead. “Um, I mean religious group, right?”
    We both nod silently.
    “Well, thanks for the beautiful necklace,” she says. “I’ll have to check back another time. I’m told every piece you make is unique.”
    I stay with our stuff while Rachel gets the van. The whole time I think about