The Shunning by Beverly Lewis Read Free Book Online

toward the family buggy.
    She wasn’t surprised when Mary Stoltzfus burst out of the back door, following close on her heels. “Katie, wait!”
    But she kept going, watching her step as she crossed the side yard.
    Mary was panting by the time she’d caught up, plump cheeks flushed from the cold and exertion. “You seem upset about something.”
    Katie stopped short and turned to face her friend. “We have to talk . . . and very soon.”
    “I’ll come over after bit. Jah?”
    Katie shook her head. “No. Not my house. We’ll have to meet somewhere else—someplace private.”
    Mary slanted her a speculative glance. “Would’ve thought you’d be home sewing your wedding dress.”
    Katie forced a brief smile. “It’s nearly done.”
    “Thought you’d have it all done by now.”
    “Jah, I know.” Without explanation, Katie headed for the horse and buggy parked in the drive just west of the house.
    Mary ran after her. “Maybe we could talk now”—she glanced apprehensively toward the house—“if ya hurry.”
    “There’s no hurrying it. We’ll chat later.”
    “Katie, something’s awful wrong. I just know it.”
    At Mary’s wide-eyed look of compassion, Katie felt the tears welling up, blurring her vision. “It’s nothin’, really.” Her voice grew husky.
    Mary reached for her with mittened hands, and Katie gave in to the heaviness inside. She buried her face in her friend’s soft shoulder. “ Everything’s wrong,” she cried. “Oh, Mary . . . everything.”
    Grabbing Katie’s hand, she led her around behind the horse where they could not be seen from the house. “I knew it. Don’t you see? Friends are for sharin’. The Lord puts people together for a reason, like how He put us—Mary ’n Katie—together.”
    At the sound of the familiar childhood connection, Katie’s eyes grew even more cloudy.
    “ Himmel , it’s not . . .” Mary paused, her expression grave. “This talk . . . it’s not about the marriage, is it?”
    Katie hesitated. But what she had to say was not for community ears. If there was even a slight chance that someone might overhear. . . . “Not now,” she insisted.
    “So, it is about your marryin’ the bishop, ain’t?” Mary prodded ever so gently.
    Seeing the angelic, round face so concerned was a comfort. But Katie’s heart sank as she looked into the all-knowing blue eyes. That look. It probed deep into her soul, reinforcing the sense that Mary always seemed to know what was good and right. “We’ll talk tonight” was all Katie could say. “I’ll ride over after supper.”
    Reluctantly, she climbed into the carriage and urged the aging horse toward Hickory Lane. She made the right-hand turn at the end of the Stoltzfus’s dirt drive, now covered with deep, icy ridges from buggy wheels slicing into the encrusted snow.
    Molasses pulled the buggy up the hill while a melody played in her head. For a time, she tried to put aside her doubts and ponderings, to allow the peaceful countryside to soothe her.
    The smell of woodsmoke hung in the air as crows caw-cawed back and forth overhead. A bird sang out a low, throaty series of notes and flew away. Somewhere near the edge of the lightly forested area, on the opposite side of the deserted road, a lone deer—though she could neither see nor hear it—was probably watching her, heeding a primitive warning that it was not safe to cross this remote stretch of road buried deep in the Amish community. So isolated was the area that not even the smallest mark on the Lancaster map betrayed the existence of Hickory Hollow—home to two hundred and fifty-three souls.
    One farm after another rolled into view—like a patchwork quilt of dusty browns and grays—as Katie trotted the horse over the two-mile stretch of the main road. On the way, she fought the notion that someone knew her as well as Mary seemed to. If Mary hadn’t been the sweetest, kindest friend ever, Katie would have rejected outright the idea that a person