think Mam thinks it’s too short, too.”
Leah’s mouth puckered as she hung the lavender dress with its neat tailoring back on the hook and took down the dark blue one her mother had given her for her birthday. Leah liked the blue. It went well with her eyes and her dark auburn hair, but she was particularly fond of the lavender dress she and her Mennonite friend, Sophie Steiner, had cut and stitched. Sophie’s mother had a new electric-powered Singer that practically sewed a garment for you. Maybe the lavender was a little shorter than the blue dress, but it covered her knees and the neckline and sleeves were modest enough to satisfy even the bishop.
“And your good kapp ,” Rebecca added. “No scarf today.”
Leah sighed. She and Rebecca had spent so much time together in the last year that they should have been as close as Ruth and Miriam, but somehow, this sister always brought out the worst in her. She loved Rebecca dearly, but they were just too different to have the relationship she had with Johanna or dear Anna. Leah loved to be doing something with her hands: picking blueberries, making jam or selling vegetables to the English tourists at Spence’s Auction. By contrast, Rebecca was happiest at home, drinking tea with Mam or Aunt Jezebel, reading a prayer book or writing a letter for publication in the Budget .
Rebecca never questioned the rules. She’d always been the good girl of the family, the serious one. She’d been baptized at age sixteen, before she’d even ventured into the outside world. It never occurred to Rebecca to be cross with Aunt Martha for her criticizing or bossy ways. In Leah’s mind, Rebecca was simply too meek for her own good. And worse, Rebecca couldn’t understand why Leah sometimes longed to kick out of the traces, and why, at almost twenty-one, she had yet to make the lifelong commitment to join the Amish Church.
Leah gathered her brush, kapp and her clean underclothes and started for the bathroom. “I’ll be quick,” she promised her sister. “Tell Mam, five minutes.”
“What was he like?” Rebecca asked.
“Who?”
Rebecca raised an eyebrow. “You know who. The Mennonite preacher. Was he as fast as they say?”
Annoyed, Leah stopped short and glanced back over her shoulder. “As fast as who says? Who around here knows him well enough to say something like that? That he’s fast?”
Her sister smiled. “It’s what they say about all Mennonite boys, isn’t it? People say that they’re wild, that they try to take liberties with Amish girls.”
“That’s nonsense. And Daniel isn’t a boy. He must be twenty-five, maybe older.”
Rebecca snickered. “And it’s just Daniel now, is it? But then you probably got to know him well out there in the woods. He didn’t try to steal a kiss, did he?”
“No. He didn’t. And Daniel Brown’s not a preacher. He’s a nurse, a good one.”
“And you know that how?”
“Because he helped a baby goat to be born when we were out looking for Joey. It was stuck, a leg tangled. The nanny would have died and the kid with her if Daniel hadn’t known what to do.”
“So he’s not a preacher. But he is a missionary. He must have been lots of places, known lots of English girls. Fancy foreign girls, too.”
“I suppose he has, but he was nice. Is nice. And when he gives his program, I’m going to be there to hear it.”
“If Mam lets you go again.”
Leah’s brow creased as she tried to hide the annoyance she felt at Rebecca’s words. “ Ne, sister,” she answered softly. “That’s not what I said. I said I’m going to hear Daniel’s talk and see the pictures of Spain and Morocco. I’ll be twenty-one in a few weeks, and I’m an adult. I think I can decide for myself if I’m going to hear a missionary speak about his experiences in spreading God’s word, without asking for my mother’s permission.”
Rebecca slid off the bed, moisture gleaming in her dark eyes. “I’ve made you angry.”
Leah
Learning to Kill: Stories