“Do you think you should be outside in the sun? You remember yesterday—”
Rosie smiled as she reached for her hat. “I’ll be fine. See you in a while.”
Katie got up and lifted the colanders from the sink, shaking them to drain off any water. She pulled the recipe card for chow chow from their mother’s wooden recipe box even though she knew it by heart: cauliflower, carrots, green beans, yellow wax beans, red kidney beans, onion, and red bell pepper. Lots of chopping, but she enjoyed working with the colorful vegetables, God’s abundance. She divided them into big pottery bowls, then filled a pot with water and added vinegar, sugar, celery seed, turmeric, and salt. She stood at the stove stirring the mixture until it came to a boil, then poured it over the vegetables.
Carrying the pan to the sink, she looked out the kitchen window and saw Rosie working in the garden. Where did you draw the line between genuinely trying to care for your sister and being considered bossy? It had been so hard seeing Rosie lying there hurt at the foot of the stairs. She didn’t want to wrap her in cotton wool, ,but she didn’t want her to overdo. People talked about being their brother’s keeper. She figured she was just being her sister’s keeper.
The vinegary aroma of freshly pickled vegetables filled the kitchen. Katie stirred the bowls of vegetables so that the liquid could cool and be absorbed. Amish chow chow relish was one of their most popular products. Tourists loved taking a jar of it home.
She used a ladle to pour the mixture into clear glass jars and screwed on the caps. The labels she and Rosie had created came last. She pasted them on each jar, gave them a satisfied glance, and took the ladle and bowls to the sink to wash up along with the pan. She looked out the window and saw Rosie use the back of her hand to wipe perspiration from her brow. She looked up, and their eyes met. Rosie waved.
Time for a break for both of them, Katie decided. She poured them both a glass of lemonade, spread chocolate chip cookies on a plate and carried them out to the porch. “Rosie! Come take a break!”
Rosie nodded and stood. Katie saw her look down at the ground and say something. Curious, she walked over to see better and shivered when she saw, just as she suspected, a black snake slither away.
Well, at least Rosie hadn’t invited Blackie to take a break with her on the porch. Katie sat in one of the rocking chairs and sipped her lemonade. Rosie sighed when she took her own seat and took her first sip of lemonade.
“So gut,” she said with a sigh. She flapped her hand at her face. “It’s nice on such a warm day.”
“I finished the first batch of chow chow relish. I have time for another before I have to get ready for work.” She gave Rosie a sidelong glance. “Don’t start. Doctor said you can’t go back today.”
“Maybe not today, but tomorrow.” Rosie lifted her chin and stared at Katie.
“Against my better judgment.”
“Ya,” agreed Rosie. “The doctor doesn’t know as much as you about concussions.”
“He doesn’t know as much about you as I do,” Katie muttered.
Rosie laughed. “Oh, Katie, you always have to have the last word.”
“Do not.”
“Do, too.”
“I do not!” Katie said with more force.
“I bet you have to have the last word.”
Katie waved a hand over her mouth. “Here, see! I’m zipping my lip. Zip!”
Rosie stared at her for a long moment. They were behaving like a couple of kinner. She burst out laughing.
The laugh started deep inside Katie and bubbled out. She laughed until tears ran down her cheeks. “Oh my,” she said. “We are a pair.”
“Two peas in a pod,” Rosie agreed with a grin.
***
Rosie felt the eyes of the congregation on her as she walked into the Beiler home for Sunday services.
The women who sat on one side were the worst—their eyes hard, their expressions disapproving. When she glanced at the men, they appeared no less disapproving, but they looked away as if they couldn’t be bothered meeting her eyes.
She felt cold down into her bones. Her palms grew clammy, and her heart beat so fast and loud she wondered if the whole room could hear it. She walked toward the front of the room where she saw an empty seat in the women’s section. Somehow she made it there even though her knees felt like jelly. She sank into the chair and stared straight ahead, feeling like she wore a scarlet “A” on her like the heroine in that Englisch novel. What was it called? The Scarlet Letter. She’d checked it out of the library once, but her mamm hadn’t let her read it and had immediately returned it.
She saw movement out of the corner of her eye. When she glanced over at the men’s section she saw Jacob looking at her.
His eyes were just as cold and hard as those of the congregation around him.
Her heart sank. Somehow everyone had found out she’d intended to ask Jacob out. She knew the Amish grapevine worked better than a telephone, but really . . . everyone here knew. Even Jacob! Her face flamed.
Why had she let Katie talk her into this? She’d never live it down. Rosie wanted to jump up and run out of the house, but it was Sunday service; one had to attend unless one was sick. That was it. She’d pretend she was sick and slip out.
But when she tried to stand her long skirts tangled around her legs, and she couldn’t move. She pulled at the fabric, but it trapped her. Struggling just made it worse. Crying out, desperate to escape, she jerked at her skirt and woke. She was in her room, in bed, not in a church service in the Beiler home. It had just been a bad dream.
Katie appeared in the doorway of her room. “Rosie? You okay?” she asked, sounding sleepy.
Rosie found her sheets and quilt were tangled around her. No wonder she’d been dreaming that she was trapped. “Ya. Just had a bad dream.”
Before she knew what was happening, Katie had bustled into the room and had laid the back of her hand on Rosie’s forehead.
“What are you doing?”
“Just making sure you don’t have a fever.”
“I had a concussion, not a virus!”
“You can never be too careful.”
“Go back to bed, Katie.”
She yawned and turned to leave the room. “’Night.”
It took Rosie a long time to go back to sleep. The dream had seemed so real . . .
The next day she walked into the Beiler home. Chills raced up and down her spine. Everything looked just like her dream . . . the way the wooden benches were set up, the congregation filing in. On the other hand, she’d been to services at this house many times through the years so of course, it would look familiar.
But every time she looked into the face of one of the people, she saw smiles, friendliness, and welcome. Relieved that she wasn’t having another bad dream, Rosie found a seat and Katie sat next to her.
“Someone’s trying to catch your eye,” Katie whispered.
Rosie glanced over at the men’s section and saw Jacob. He grinned at her. She smiled back, happy that he wasn’t wearing that forbidding, unfriendly look from her nightmare.
She loved church—the singing, the message, the feeling of union with her community. But the service felt even longer than the usual three hours. Her head still hurt a little. She wished she’d taken some ibuprofen or aspirin before she came. The room felt warm, close. Some fresh air would help, but she didn’t want