Katie's Choice by Amy Lillard Read Free Book Online Page A

wasn’t supposed to be for long. It’s just once we started our own plowin’ we plumb forgot that we’d—”
    “Given him your grossdaadi’s plow?” Abram shook his head in apparent disbelief. “It’s a wonder Zane Carson still has arms for hangin’ at his sides workin’ with that old thing.”
    That’s when Zane noticed that the plows pulled by the other men were bigger than the one he’d been behind all morning. A lot bigger. And newer.
    “Now say what you’ve come to say.”
    Each man in turn shook Zane’s hand and apologized for the part they’d played in the joke. Zane was uncomfortable accepting their words; it was all good-natured ribbing. He supposed he had it coming. He had invaded their world, and they wanted him to know that he didn’t belong. Zane had been through worse. Much worse. For now he’d accept their apologies and would bide his time for the right moment to return the favor.
    “Now, Zane Carson, go on up to the house. John Paul here will finish this field with the plow he expected you to use while you drink lemonade with the womenfolk. These boys’ll finish the plowin’. Tomorrow, we plant.”
    Zane thought about protesting, but something in the set of Abram’s jaw kept the words at bay. He nodded once toward the four men, then started for the house, a cold drink of something wet filling his thoughts.
    The sun beat down on him as he made his way across the freshly turned earth. Zane felt a sense of accomplishment as he stepped over the soil that he had readied with nothing more than steel and the pull of horses. As a child at the cooperative, he’d been called to hoe the garden, pick small vegetables and fruits, like cucumbers and strawberries, and of course, milk the goats, but he’d been too young to realize how satisfying a day’s hard work could be. He’d been too interested in getting to the end of the chore so that he could go fishing or swimming, two of his favorite pastimes as a child.
    Funny, but he hadn’t thought about those days in a long, long time. Maybe because so many of his formative years had been lived in Chicago with his uncle. And yet he’d thought about those first years in Oregon with every other breath since he’d arrived in Oklahoma’s Amish country.
    With each step fueled by the need to sit, rest, and drink something cool, Zane crossed the bustling yard and bounded onto the porch. As he opened the door, he was immediately assaulted by the smell of vinegar. Zane pulled off his hat as he had seen the other men do, blinked a couple of times for his eyes to adjust to the dim interior of the rambling farmhouse, and resisted the urge to cover his nose. The stench burned his sinuses with each breath, yet he couldn’t imagine that he smelled much better.
    He’d expected to step into a quiet kitchen, fan lazily turning, refrigerator humming, lemonade waiting for him to come and drink it. A beautiful fantasy really, most likely fueled by his writer’s imagination and sunstroke. He had never really wondered how the fan would turn without electricity, or how Amish kept perishables cold. As for the pitcher of lemonade? Purely wishful thinking.
    What he did find was half the women in the county bustling around like crazed cooks while Gideon’s Annie barked orders like a drill sergeant.
    Yet only one woman captured his attention. Katie Rose stood in the middle of the chaos, as angelic as last night, as peaceful as a spring breeze. She seemed the epitome of the Amish: serene, composed, and . . . godly. He’d never had a thought like that before about a woman, and it surprised him. She exuded some sort of quality that had him wondering about a higher power. Or was it just the belief in such a being that could make the difference? He shook the thought away. He’d never been one to focus on the supernatural. Katie Rose’s look of serenity came from clean living and lack of cosmetics. That was all.
    He cleared his throat, hoping to gain someone’s