Read Online The Crossroad by Beverly Lewis - Free Book Online Page A

a missing front tooth. “Jah, I had more than one. Appeditlich —delicious!”
    Like mother, like daughter , Lavina thought, now more eager than ever to share Gabe’s drawings with someone. Someone like the deceased man’s great-grandniece—Annie Yoder.
    And possibly Adele Herr… .

    The day had been long and arduous, filled with rewrites, interviews, and follow-ups, yet Philip sat in his apartment, gathering together the many snippets of information he’d found while in Pennsylvania. Each was directly related to Gabriel Esh’s fascinating story, one of rejection and betrayal among his own people. It was the story he had uncovered while innocently jiggling a stubborn drawer in the recesses of an antique desk in his room at the Amish guesthouse.
    He smiled to himself at the myriad of notes he’d jotted down—even on a paper napkin from the Bird-in-Hand Family Restaurant. Having gone to the Lancaster County area to do research on behalf of the magazine, he’d returned home with numerous ideas and observations on the Amish culture. That uncomplicated community of the People, where respect for each other’s opinions and privacy was a daily occurrence, where a person was expected to be conscientious, civil, generous, and responsible. Where the wholesomeness of rural life abounded. Where time seemed to stand still.
    Upon locating the business card from Emma’s Antique Shop, he studied the address and phone number, noting there was no fax number or email address. Emma, a young Mennonite woman, had given him the card after he’d browsed there, looking for an antique rolltop desk similar to the one at the Amish B&B. Emma had informed him that the desk was one of a kind, yet he’d hoped to find something comparable. He had searched various New York antique shops and prestigious stores in and around Columbus Avenue, near Lincoln Center, on weekends, then later in Vermont, where he and his sister and niece had gone to enjoy the autumn foliage. But he had found nothing to compare with the magnificent piece in his former guest bedroom at Benjamin and Susanna Zook’s B&B.
    He felt the urge to pick up the phone and call the Bird-in-Hand antique shop to inquire as to other desks Emma may have procured recently.
    Too late in the season , he decided, changing his mind. He recalled that stores in the Lancaster area, especially those catering to tourists, were often closed during the winter months.
    Philip leaned back in his chair, his hands clasped behind his head. Sighing, he looked around the apartment-sized writing studio. Tall custom-made cabinets of white oak graced one full side of the room. Shelves lined with handcrafted contemporary pottery and wrought-iron art, purchased from skilled artisans, reminded him of his travels. Behind him, a silkscreen silhouette of oval leaves, pale yellow and green, set off the otherwise unadorned wall. To his right, a bank of windows allowed daylight to flood the room, and at night reflections from a thousand windows flickered across to him. Usually, he preferred to keep the designer blinds open at all hours. Tonight, however, he rose after a time and pulled the cord, blocking out the enormity of the population, noise, and vibrations of the city that surrounded him, threatening to strangle him.
    Sitting down at his desk once again, he thought of Lancaster County, where farmers talked to their cows and went to bed with the chickens. A world set apart. And not so surprisingly, a place he missed more than he cared to admit.
    He stared at the telephone, wondering if it was too late to make a phone call to Reading, Pennsylvania. He wanted to talk again with his new friend, Adele Herr.

Seven

    For as long as she remembered, Rachel had awakened early, at the pre-rooster-crowin’ hour. Bone-chilling cold no longer greeted her first thing on a winter morning, however. Not in the toasty-warm bedroom she and Annie now shared at the Orchard Guest House B&B.
    Growing up in Dat’s drafty old farmhouse