brother was the source of her worry.
“A few nights ago.” She remembered too well Johnny’s annoyance at her for keeping to the Ordnung. “He is doing well, I think. I just wish—”
She paused, but Mose probably knew the rest of that thought.
“Your daad still refuses to see him?”
She nodded. “I don’t bring it up much, because it upsets Mamm. Even though Daadi knows other Amish parents find a way to have a relationship with their children who have jumped the fence, he won’t consider it.”
“Ach, your daad always was one to do everything the hard way. No doubt he still hopes being cut off from his family will push Johnny into coming back to the church.”
“It won’t.” Once she might have hoped that, too, but she’d seen enough of her brother in recent months to know the truth. He was committed to the English world and to the work that seemed so important. He would never come back.
“No. I never thought he would return.” Mose’s face showed regret and acceptance. “Some just aren’t a fit for the life, even when they’re born to it.”
She’d never thought of it that way, exactly, but Bishop Mose was right. “From the time we were little, Johnny was always restless, always wanting more. Impatient.”
He nodded. “I think-”
The bell over the door rang. Mose glanced that way, and his face stiffened. “No tourists,” he said.
She darted a quick look. A man and woman, both with cameras hanging from their necks, had just come in. Surely they couldn’t have missed the sign on the door.
“We just want to look around.” The woman lifted her camera. “Just take a few pictures.”
“No pictures. No tourists.” Mose’s tone was polite but firm. “That’s what the sign says. I ask you please to leave.”
Rachel stole another glance. The man’s face had reddened. “Listen, if you people want to have any tourist trade in this town, you’d better be a little nicer when folks come in here.”
“My harness shop is a business. Not a tourist attraction.” Mose’s face was as stony as Moses’s must have been when he’d broken the stone tablets.
“Come on, Hal.” It sounded as if the woman was tugging her husband toward the door, but Rachel didn’t turn around again to see, wary of the camera the woman still held up. The brim of her bonnet cut them off very nicely. “There’s a cute quilt shop down the street. I’m crazy about Amish quilts.”
The door slammed, and footsteps thudded on the wooden steps. Rachel glanced around, just as the woman raised her camera to the glass and snapped a picture. Then, smiling in satisfaction, she went off down the street.
Mose grunted. “It spites me when they do that. Some folks don’t have the sense the Lord gave a chipmunk. Can’t they read?”
The flash of the camera had unsettled her, but she tried to shake it off. “They think they’re the exception to the rule. If they try that on Ruth Stoltzfus at the quilt shop, she’ll chase them out with a broom.”
Mose chuckled, his good humor quickly restored. “I’d like to see that, I would.”
“So would I.” She smiled, picturing plump, irascible Ruth’s reaction.
“Now, then.” Mose returned to the buckle, but his wise old eyes surveyed her over the rims of his glasses. “I think you did not come all the way to town today just to have this buckle replaced or to talk about the ways of tourists. Or even of your brother.”
“No, I guess not.” How to say this? “I ... I’m concerned about something.” She took a breath and plunged in. “It’s Gideon Zook. You’ve maybe heard that he insists on building the greenhouse that Ezra promised me for my birthday?”
He nodded. Of course he’d have heard. The Amish might not have telephones in their homes, but they had a very efficient grapevine that passed on all the news.
“I know Gideon is not to blame for the accident.” She said the words she’d been repeating to herself, staring down at Bishop Mose’s
“A few nights ago.” She remembered too well Johnny’s annoyance at her for keeping to the Ordnung. “He is doing well, I think. I just wish—”
She paused, but Mose probably knew the rest of that thought.
“Your daad still refuses to see him?”
She nodded. “I don’t bring it up much, because it upsets Mamm. Even though Daadi knows other Amish parents find a way to have a relationship with their children who have jumped the fence, he won’t consider it.”
“Ach, your daad always was one to do everything the hard way. No doubt he still hopes being cut off from his family will push Johnny into coming back to the church.”
“It won’t.” Once she might have hoped that, too, but she’d seen enough of her brother in recent months to know the truth. He was committed to the English world and to the work that seemed so important. He would never come back.
“No. I never thought he would return.” Mose’s face showed regret and acceptance. “Some just aren’t a fit for the life, even when they’re born to it.”
She’d never thought of it that way, exactly, but Bishop Mose was right. “From the time we were little, Johnny was always restless, always wanting more. Impatient.”
He nodded. “I think-”
The bell over the door rang. Mose glanced that way, and his face stiffened. “No tourists,” he said.
She darted a quick look. A man and woman, both with cameras hanging from their necks, had just come in. Surely they couldn’t have missed the sign on the door.
“We just want to look around.” The woman lifted her camera. “Just take a few pictures.”
“No pictures. No tourists.” Mose’s tone was polite but firm. “That’s what the sign says. I ask you please to leave.”
Rachel stole another glance. The man’s face had reddened. “Listen, if you people want to have any tourist trade in this town, you’d better be a little nicer when folks come in here.”
“My harness shop is a business. Not a tourist attraction.” Mose’s face was as stony as Moses’s must have been when he’d broken the stone tablets.
“Come on, Hal.” It sounded as if the woman was tugging her husband toward the door, but Rachel didn’t turn around again to see, wary of the camera the woman still held up. The brim of her bonnet cut them off very nicely. “There’s a cute quilt shop down the street. I’m crazy about Amish quilts.”
The door slammed, and footsteps thudded on the wooden steps. Rachel glanced around, just as the woman raised her camera to the glass and snapped a picture. Then, smiling in satisfaction, she went off down the street.
Mose grunted. “It spites me when they do that. Some folks don’t have the sense the Lord gave a chipmunk. Can’t they read?”
The flash of the camera had unsettled her, but she tried to shake it off. “They think they’re the exception to the rule. If they try that on Ruth Stoltzfus at the quilt shop, she’ll chase them out with a broom.”
Mose chuckled, his good humor quickly restored. “I’d like to see that, I would.”
“So would I.” She smiled, picturing plump, irascible Ruth’s reaction.
“Now, then.” Mose returned to the buckle, but his wise old eyes surveyed her over the rims of his glasses. “I think you did not come all the way to town today just to have this buckle replaced or to talk about the ways of tourists. Or even of your brother.”
“No, I guess not.” How to say this? “I ... I’m concerned about something.” She took a breath and plunged in. “It’s Gideon Zook. You’ve maybe heard that he insists on building the greenhouse that Ezra promised me for my birthday?”
He nodded. Of course he’d have heard. The Amish might not have telephones in their homes, but they had a very efficient grapevine that passed on all the news.
“I know Gideon is not to blame for the accident.” She said the words she’d been repeating to herself, staring down at Bishop Mose’s
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