Read Online Forsaken by Leanna Ellis - Free Book Online Page B

long and sticking into things that were none of her business.
    â€œIt is attachments to worldly things we avoid. Not the things themselves.”
    â€œLike cars?” A short, stocky man joined them, and it looked as if he could use a little restraint in sampling the pretzel rolls.
    Hannah separated out the blackberry and blueberry jams and put them in their proper places. “Yes.”
    â€œAnd electricity,” the woman added.
    â€œBut ain’t you using electricity with all this baking here?” The man nodded at the woman like he’d caught Hannah in hypocrisy.
    â€œYou are right that Old Order Amish districts do not allow electricity, but we can use generators and gas-powered machines. The Raber family is allowed to run this bakery because they don’t own the building. They lease from a Mennonite family. Mennonites do not have restrictions about electricity.”
    â€œSeems like just a lot of hairsplitting to me.”
    â€œHannah!” Grace called from the kitchen.
    â€œIf you’ll excuse me…” Grateful for the excuse to leave, Hannah lifted the box of jam jars and carried them toward the back. After putting away the remainder of the jars, she peered toward the front of the store where the man and woman added more goodies to their carts. She nudged Grace and gave her a relieved smile. “Thanks.”
    â€œAnytime.” Grace pinched the edges of a piecrust.
    English customers poured into Lancaster County to gawk at the horse and buggies, plain clothes, quilts, and fields. They asked about the straight pins in her apron, her white prayer kapp , and why she didn’t believe in buttons and telephones. They drove on Amish farms and snapped away with their little cameras or even videotaped Amish children at play.
    â€œNeed help?” Hannah asked Grace.
    â€œSure. You can stir up the filling for the shoo-fly pie. So, have you decided to go tonight?”
    Hannah grabbed the large metal spoon and began to stir the thick batter. “Where?”
    Grace swiped her forearm across her forehead, leaving a trace of flour. “There’s a gathering, just some of us hanging out.”
    Hannah shook her head, making the ties of her kapp waggle back and forth. “I don’t think so.”
    â€œYou should come. It’ll be fun. Here.” Grace handed Hannah one of the four piecrusts, laid out smooth in a pie pan, the edges neatly crimped. While Grace poured in the dark, thick batter, Hannah turned the pan in her hands until it was evenly distributed, then helped place the pies into the oversized oven.
    Hannah wiped her hands on her apron and carried the empty bowl to the sink where an older woman, Marnie Raber, washed. She was a sister-in-law of the owner and had worked in the kitchen every day, except Sundays, since her husband had passed away a few years back. Glancing over her shoulder at the tourists browsing in the shop, Marnie said, “You should help the customers now.”
    Grace sent her a sorrowful look and Hannah went back to the front of the shop, steering clear of a woman who looked a bit harried as her two children jostled through the shop, pretending to shoot each other and knocking a package of jellybeans off a shelf. Hannah picked up the candy and went back to realigning the jars along the shelves, adding more jars of apple butter and chow-chow. The couple who had pestered her with questions earlier had left, but others had taken their place, gawking at Hannah as if she were on display with the gift items.
    â€œAre these organic?” an older woman asked, indicating the shelves of jars.
    â€œNo.” Hannah pointed out a separate section to her. “But these over here are.”
    The woman’s gaze narrowed on Hannah, scanning her from prayer kapp to worn tennis shoes. Finally, she nodded, settled reading glasses across the bridge of her nose, and studied a jar label.
    Easing herself toward the display of freshly baked