she looked away. Was it her younger sister closest in age who wished to leave? Ariana’s heart moved to her throat, and she found it hard to breathe. She could easily imagine the world using someone pure of heart like Susie, leaving her wrecked and ruined for the duration of her days. But Susie wouldn’t leave without good cause.
What had Quill dangled in front of Ariana’s little sister that had her wanting to leave?
Malinda stood and began stacking plates. “Sometimes the Old Ways get wearisome, but so does every part of life that requires self-control over self-indulgence. I believe the harvest we’ll reap, the harvest we’ll offer to God because of it, is worth the sacrifices we make.”
A chorus of agreement went up, and some clapped. Susie had a faint smile as she rose and helped clear the table. Ariana stood, and soon all the women were cleaning up the kitchen while the men dispersed to the yard to sit in chairs and talk as the children played.
Susie filled the sink with hot, sudsy water.
Ariana slid a handful of flatware into the water. “You seemed to disagree with Abram’s statement about us having it all.”
“Who me? Disagree with Abram? Can’t be true.” Susie’s usual lightheartedness seemed covered with a heavy dose of grouchy. “But let’s drop it.”
“I don’t want to drop it. Spill the beans. Be frank. Come on.” She bumped her shoulder against Susie’s. “Vent.”
Susie scrubbed the tines of a fork. “Abram said that together we have it all. We don’t. If he and the rest want to believe that love is all we need, I’m fine with that. But I won’t join in the chorus. Love is only part of any answer.”
“Okay, that’s fair. So you’re feeling discontent. List the top five changes you would make if you could.”
She grinned. “To dream the impossible dream…”
All the Brenneman girls had learned a lot of songs while cleaning houses and caring for the sick or injured. The Englisch loved their noises—television, radio, iHomes, CD players, Internet radio. But Susie singing those few words caused a faded memory to step out of the fog, and the made-up words “to slave for the impossible employers” came to mind.
Ariana’s heart skipped. “Is that what’s bothering you, working for the Beshears?”
For the last two years, Susie had been the in-home caregiver for a crotchety old couple. The man was suffering from dementia, and he blamed Susie if he couldn’t remember how to button his shirt. The woman was worse. She’d been wheelchair bound for nearly three years, and she was unbearably angry about it.
Plunging her hands into the water, Susie scoffed. “I have to find something with dignity to it before I forget how to dream altogether.” She rolled her eyes, sighing. “No matter how hard I work or what I do for the Beshears, they write me up for some minor infraction and make me sign the paper. It seems the only purpose of that documentation, as they call it, is to wag it at me while complaining. Just last week I had to sign a paper because when Mrs. Beshears went into the bathroom Monday morning, there wasn’t any toilet paper on the roll. I didn’t work the day before, and they’d used it up themselves, but I’m responsible? I was docked five dollars for that.”
Ariana’s pulse ran hot with frustration…and excitement. She hadn’t realized the Beshears had gotten that unreasonable. At the same time, if this was Susie’s issue, surely the café was the answer. “So if you had a job you liked, you would feel differently?”
“It wouldn’t hurt. That’s for sure.” She washed a plate and rinsed it. “The whole time we were growing up, I kept thinking I could be okay with our lives—you know, the lack, the hard work, the strictness of the rules—if I could have one thing that stirred excitement of some kind, and, trust me, the Beshears are not it.”
“No, clearly not.” Ariana took a cleansing breath.
Susie was the one Quill intended to
What had Quill dangled in front of Ariana’s little sister that had her wanting to leave?
Malinda stood and began stacking plates. “Sometimes the Old Ways get wearisome, but so does every part of life that requires self-control over self-indulgence. I believe the harvest we’ll reap, the harvest we’ll offer to God because of it, is worth the sacrifices we make.”
A chorus of agreement went up, and some clapped. Susie had a faint smile as she rose and helped clear the table. Ariana stood, and soon all the women were cleaning up the kitchen while the men dispersed to the yard to sit in chairs and talk as the children played.
Susie filled the sink with hot, sudsy water.
Ariana slid a handful of flatware into the water. “You seemed to disagree with Abram’s statement about us having it all.”
“Who me? Disagree with Abram? Can’t be true.” Susie’s usual lightheartedness seemed covered with a heavy dose of grouchy. “But let’s drop it.”
“I don’t want to drop it. Spill the beans. Be frank. Come on.” She bumped her shoulder against Susie’s. “Vent.”
Susie scrubbed the tines of a fork. “Abram said that together we have it all. We don’t. If he and the rest want to believe that love is all we need, I’m fine with that. But I won’t join in the chorus. Love is only part of any answer.”
“Okay, that’s fair. So you’re feeling discontent. List the top five changes you would make if you could.”
She grinned. “To dream the impossible dream…”
All the Brenneman girls had learned a lot of songs while cleaning houses and caring for the sick or injured. The Englisch loved their noises—television, radio, iHomes, CD players, Internet radio. But Susie singing those few words caused a faded memory to step out of the fog, and the made-up words “to slave for the impossible employers” came to mind.
Ariana’s heart skipped. “Is that what’s bothering you, working for the Beshears?”
For the last two years, Susie had been the in-home caregiver for a crotchety old couple. The man was suffering from dementia, and he blamed Susie if he couldn’t remember how to button his shirt. The woman was worse. She’d been wheelchair bound for nearly three years, and she was unbearably angry about it.
Plunging her hands into the water, Susie scoffed. “I have to find something with dignity to it before I forget how to dream altogether.” She rolled her eyes, sighing. “No matter how hard I work or what I do for the Beshears, they write me up for some minor infraction and make me sign the paper. It seems the only purpose of that documentation, as they call it, is to wag it at me while complaining. Just last week I had to sign a paper because when Mrs. Beshears went into the bathroom Monday morning, there wasn’t any toilet paper on the roll. I didn’t work the day before, and they’d used it up themselves, but I’m responsible? I was docked five dollars for that.”
Ariana’s pulse ran hot with frustration…and excitement. She hadn’t realized the Beshears had gotten that unreasonable. At the same time, if this was Susie’s issue, surely the café was the answer. “So if you had a job you liked, you would feel differently?”
“It wouldn’t hurt. That’s for sure.” She washed a plate and rinsed it. “The whole time we were growing up, I kept thinking I could be okay with our lives—you know, the lack, the hard work, the strictness of the rules—if I could have one thing that stirred excitement of some kind, and, trust me, the Beshears are not it.”
“No, clearly not.” Ariana took a cleansing breath.
Susie was the one Quill intended to
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