A Simple Charity Read Free Page B

aspect of running the Amish country bed-and-breakfast.
    Meg shrugged. “All I know is that it can be delicious when prepared properly. Which this is not.”
    “Don’t be that way. Everything you make is delicious,” Shandell said.
    “This from a girl who spent a month in a cave.”
    “A shack, not a cave,” the former runaway corrected Meg. “And from what I’ve seen, you’re a good chef. Did you go to cooking school?”
    “Plenty of school, but not for cooking.”
    “What did you study?” Shandell asked. She didn’t realize that questions mining the recent past made Meg bristle.
    “This and that.” Meg handed over the egg plate, and Shandell added it to her tray. Meg wasn’t ready to talk about her real profession—her calling. Or at least she had always thought that she’d been called to deliver babies, until an early morning last winter that shook loose the foundation of her life.
    “For real. I know you and Zoey both went to college. I’m signing up to take some classes at community college in the fall. What did you major in?”
    Meg bit her lower lip. Shandell Darby was a sweet kid, but Meg was sick of defending herself, trying to give a complex situation a simple summary. For now Meg was content to be impersonating a cook at her sister’s inn.
    “We’ll talk later. Right now I’ve got some veggies to chop for an omelet, and you’d better get that out before it gets cold,” Meg told Shandell, who hoisted the tray and hurried out.
    Meg was amazed at the way cooking could fill your mind and suck up your time. The prep work, the whisking of a delicate sauce, the art of cracking eggs. Cooking was the engine that kept her pistons going these days, and though it was a methodical lifestyle, she was glad for the impetus to get out of bed each morning. Sheslid the omelet onto a heated plate and added a ruby red sliced strawberry to the corner of the dish. She was removing two fluffy waffles from the iron when her sister Zoey popped in, waving a few handwritten pages in the air.
    “Success! I’ve got Amish recipes.” Zoey and her husband, Tate, owned the inn, and their mission was to provide guests with a taste of Amish living. “Real authentic recipes from the Amish girl next door. Well, I guess she’s not really a girl. I think she’s eighteen or so, but she’s a little person, and there’s something youthful about her. Elsie Lapp … have you met her?”
    “I think I’ve seen her in town. She runs a shop, right?”
    “That’s right. And her sister Emma is the Amish schoolteacher and her mother, Fanny, has some midwife training.” She pushed a strand of blond hair out of her eyes. Zoey had thick, naturally curly hair that refused to be tamed by gels and dryers. It hung in a cloud around her heart-shaped face. “You and Fanny should meet. You have the midwife thing in common.”
    Meg tucked her thumbs under the straps of her bib apron. “I’m a cook now. Besides, Amish midwives aren’t interested in talking shop. The Amish tend not to want to talk about pregnancy and birth. I think they find it embarrassing, and they don’t usually need much coaching. When it comes to birthing, they seem to be born experts.”
    A proud smile lit Zoey’s eyes. “I love it when you revert to your old self. I miss the confident Meg.”
    “She’s gone,” Meg deadpanned. “I had to give her up with the medical license.”
    “Ha, ha, not so funny. The investigation still hasn’t been resolved, and the suspension is only temporary. Speaking of … what’s the latest on that?”
    “No news is good news,” Meg said, cutting off the topic. “Look at you, Miss Congeniality. Just two months here and you’ve got theskinny on the Amish women next door, names and occupations. You’ve really made some inroads in this community, and that’s not easy.” Meg had delivered babies for some Amish families in Butler County, and she knew firsthand how difficult it could be to gain their trust. “What’s