thick slices, she transferred them to a plate. Setting the dish aside, she began breaking eggs in a bowl. “Are you drinking?” she asked without looking.
“Yes.” Katie took another quick sip and pulled the shawl tighter, grateful for its soft warmth.
She thought she detected a smile tugging at the corner of the older woman’s mouth, but she didn’t have a clear view of Nettie’s face.
After a few minutes of silence, Nettie asked, “How’s the coffee?”
“It’s good. Better than my sister-in-law ever made on that stove. I used to think her bitter coffee gave Beatrice her sour face.”
“You don’t like your sister-in-law?”
“She’s okay.” It was more that Beatrice didn’t like her. Katie had felt Beatrice’s resentment from the moment she came to live with them, although she never understood why.
“I’ve got a sister-in-law I don’t care for. It’s not right to speak ill of her, but she thought my brother married up when he married into her family. That, and she claims her peach preserves are better than mine. They aren’t. I use my mama’s recipe.”
“And riper peaches?”
Nettie’s eyes brimmed with humor as she shot a look in Katie’s direction. “Can you keep a secret?”
Taken aback slightly, Katie replied, “I guess. Sure.”
“I use canned, store-bought peaches.”
Katie laughed, feeling oddly pleased to be let in on a Sutter family joke.
Chuckling, Nettie continued. “I hate to think of the hours that woman has slaved over a hot stove stewing her fresh fruit and trying to outdo me. It’s prideful, I know. I reckon I’d better confess my sin before next communion.”
Katie’s mirth evaporated. She bowed her head. She had so much more than a little false pride to confess. What must Nettie think of her?
If Mrs. Sutter hoped her admission would prompt Katie to seek acceptance back among the Amish, she was sadly mistaken. Katie had no intention of talking to a bishop or anyone else about the choices she’d made in her life. She had made them. She would live with them.
After a few minutes of silence, Nettie said, “It must feel strange to see another family living in your childhood home.”
Relieved by the change of subject, Katie looked up to find her hostess watching her closely. “It was a bit of a shock.”
“It’s a good house, but I’d like a bigger porch. Elam has promised to build it this summer. I love to sit outside in the evenings and do my mending. That way I can enjoy a cup of coffee and the flowers in my garden while I watch the sun go down. Speaking of coffee, are you finished with yours?”
“Almost. Do you miss the home you left behind?”
“Jah, at times I do, but my oldest son and his wife still live on our farm in Pennsylvania, so I can go back for a visit as often as I like.”
“What made you leave?”
A fleeting look of sadness crossed Nettie face. “Elam wanted to come west. There’s more farm ground out here and it’s cheaper than back home. That, and there was some church trouble.”
Nettie busied herself at the stove and began scrambling eggs in a large cast-iron skillet. Katie waited for her to elaborate, but she didn’t. Although Katie found herself curious to hear more of the story, it was clear Nettie wasn’t willing to share.
Suddenly, Nettie began speaking again. “My daughter-in-law’s parents were talking about moving into the dawdy haus with one of their children. I would have welcomed the company, but then Elam told me he’d found this property.”
The Amish welcomed their elderly relatives and nearly all Amish farms had a second, smaller, “grandfather house” connected to the main home. Grandparents could live in comfort and remain a part of the family, helping to care for the children or with the farm work if they were able.
“Elam is my youngest, you know, and he’s without a wife yet. All my others are married. It just made sense for me to come with him and to keep house for him until he finds a wife of his own.”
“Not all men want to get married.” Katie was thinking more of Matt than Elam, but she did wonder why Nettie’s son was still single. Besides being a handsome man, he was kind, gentle and seemed to love children.
Nettie stopped stirring and stared out the window. “Elam was betrothed once.”
Katie recalled Elam’s comment about “once burned, twice shy” the first night when he was holding Rachel. Now she knew what he meant. “What happened?”
Nettie began stirring her eggs again. “Salome wasn’t the right one for him. It was better that they found it out before they were married, because she left the church.”
“After her baptism?”
“Jah.”
Katie knew what that meant. “She was shunned.”
“It was very hard on Elam. Especially after…” Nettie paused and stared out the kitchen window as though seeing unhappy things in the past.
“You don’t need to explain anything to me,” Katie said, gently. She considered Nettie a friend, and she was willing to respect her privacy.
Nettie glanced her way. The sorrow-filled look in her eyes touched Katie’s heart deeply. “It is no secret. You may hear it anyway. I’d rather you heard it from me. My husband also left the church a few months before he died.”
While the Amish religion might not be something Katie wanted for herself, she understood how deeply spiritual true believers were and how painful such an event would be to Nettie’s entire family. “I’m so sorry.”
“Danki. How are you feeling?”
“Better.”
It was true. Katie finished her drink, rose and carried her cup to the table, happy to find her dizziness didn’t return. As she sat down she thought she understood better why Elam disliked that she had left the faith. “That can’t have been easy for Elam or for any of you.”
Nettie looked over her shoulder with a sad little smile. “Life is not meant to be easy, child. That is why we pray for God’s strength to help us bear it.”
Katie didn’t want to depend on God for her strength. She had made her own mistakes. She was the one who would fix them.
The front door opened and Elam came in accompanied by a draft of chilly air. In his arms he held a small bassinet. He paused when he caught sight of Katie at the table. She could have sworn that a blush crept up his neck, but she decided she was mistaken. He nodded in her direction, then closed the door.
Nettie transferred her eggs from the stove top to a shallow bowl. “I was just getting ready to call you, Elam. Breakfast is ready.”
“Goot, I could use some coffee. The wind has a raw bite to it this morning. March is not going out like a lamb. At least the sun is shining. The ground will be glad of the moisture when this snow melts. It will help our spring planting.”
He hung his coat and black felt hat on the row of pegs beside the door, then he approached Katie. “I made your Rachel a better bed. It’ll be safer than setting her basket on a chair and it will keep her up off the drafty floor.”
The bassinet was about a third the size of the ones Katie had seen in the stores in the city when she had gone window-shopping and dreamed about things she could never afford for her baby. The picnic basket–size bed was finely crafted of wooden strips sanded smooth and glowing with a linseed oil finish. It had a small canopy at one end. “It’s lovely. You didn’t have to do this.”
“It was easy enough to make out of a few things I had on hand. It has double swing handles and