The Shunning by Beverly Lewis Read Free Book Online Page A

could get inside your heart and know things almost before you did.
    But back there just now, Mary had sized up the situation and guessed it was the wedding that was bothering her. Five years ago, she’d predicted that Katie would never love a man as much as she loved Daniel Fisher. She’d even had the nerve to say, when they were little girls, that Katie was her mother’s favorite child. Yes, like it or not, Mary Stoltzfus was hardly ever wrong.
    Quivering with cold, Katie tucked the lap robe tighter around her. Was it possible for someone to know you that well? Shouldn’t a woman have her own sanctuary, that secret place in her heart and mind where no one else entered?
    She slapped the reins and hurried Molasses along. Maybe this time Mary is wrong , she thought. Maybe she’s wrong about being right so awful much .
    ————
    At home, Rebecca was running late. The quilting bee would be starting soon, but first things first. She had something important to do before she could leave the house. It was a convenient time, too, since Katie hadn’t returned with the family buggy. And Samuel and the boys had gone to purchase walnuts and hickory nuts for the wedding.
    Hurriedly, she opened the door leading downstairs to the cold cellar. Here, with the help of women from her church district, she’d put up and stored eight hundred quarts of produce. She, in turn, had assisted her neighbors with their canning, as well. Piles of potatoes, onions, turnips, and sweet potatoes were stored separately, more than enough until the next harvest. There were rows and rows of canning jars filled with pickled beets, chow-chow, tomato relish, bean salads, and Rebecca’s luscious jams and jellies.
    But it was not food for her table that brought Rebecca to the cold cellar. In fact, food was the last thing on her mind as she crept down the narrow steps. In her hand, she held a baby gown wrapped in tissue.
    She had felt uneasy about its former hiding place—the underside of the blanket chest. Last night after Samuel had fallen asleep, she’d gone to the attic, found the dress, and taped the lovely thing—still nestled in its wrapping—to the bottom of the cedar chest. So worried was she about someone, anyone, discovering it, that when Katie unexpectedly left with the buggy after breakfast, Rebecca decided to take advantage of the empty house. She would find a better, more secure location for the dress this time.
    Sadly, the thought of destroying the garment had tempted her, but upon approaching the woodstove, another thought kept her from tossing the tiny gown into the fire. A frightening flash of reason—and absurdity.
    What if someday this is all you have left?
    She tried to shake off the preposterous notion, but in its place came a lump in her throat, nearly choking her. Stunned, she dropped the dress. As she leaned over to retrieve it, a tightness gripped her chest, and she felt as though her heart might break.
    Carefully, she removed the garment from its wrapping and began to pray silently, pressing the soft satin fabric to her face.
    O Lord God, heavenly Father, keep this dress safe from eyes that would hinder and disrupt your manifold great grace and goodness over our lives through Jesus Christ. Amen .
    The words were a mixture of Amish High German and down-home emotion. Rebecca never spoke her prayers the way she “thought” them. The Lord deserved respect and reverence, after all. Oh, she’d heard of other folk who felt that it was all right to approach the throne of grace the way you would chat with a good friend. But such ideas seemed nothing short of heresy to her way of thinking!
    Deep in the dim cellar-pantry, beyond the cabinets of canned goods and crocks of pudding, Rebecca spied the beautiful corner cupboard and its matching sideboard. She found a kerosene lamp, lit it, and quickened her pace toward the lovely pieces handcrafted by Samuel five years before, about the time Katie and Daniel were seeing so much of each