The Shunning Read Free Page A

hitched up. Mam ought to be mighty happy about Bishop John; Katie, too—with the widower coming to her rescue, so to speak. At twenty-two, an Amish girl—no matter how headstrong and feisty—wouldn’t be smart to be too picky. His sister had scared more than one boy away on that basis alone.
    Eli continued his climb up the attic ladder but stopped halfway.
    “Keep on going,” Ben muttered, thinking about the tender, juicy ham downstairs. “Time’s a-wastin’.”
    Eli put out his hand, shushing him. “Wait . . . listen.”
    “What is it?” Ben cocked his head.
    “Hear that?”
    Ben strained his ears, staring hard at the attic door above them. “Well, I’ll be . . . sounds like Katie’s cryin’ up there.”
    Without warning, he charged past Eli—crawled right over the top of him and up the ladder—nearly knocking the lantern out of his brother’s hand.
    Downstairs, while Samuel read the public auction notices in Die Botschaft , Rebecca pulled out the drawer nearest the sink and gathered up five sets of utensils—one for each of the Lapp family members who would be present around her table this night.
    Jah, this was a daughter’s chore, but it didn’t much matter who placed the dishes on the old table. Katie had been busy, after all, caught up with wedding plans.
    Of all things, her daughter—ending up with Bishop Beiler and his young brood. The Lord God sure had a way of looking out for His own. And after what happened to Katie’s first love—poor Daniel Fisher, who’d gotten himself drowned in that sailing accident. Yes, Rebecca felt mighty blessed the way things were turning out.
    She sat down, recalling the first time Katie’s pudgy little hands had set this table. The memory was soothing—a vision of days long past.
    Katie’s first table setting had been a surprise of sorts. At only three and a half, the little girl was mighty pleased with herself, knowing she’d be winning her mamma’s approval. Eventually, though, the years would show that when it came down to it, what people thought of her had little to do with what made Katie Lapp tick.
    Rebecca’s sweet reminiscence served to push back the secret fear, push it deep into the inner sanctuary of her mind. That place where she’d learned to carry it, sequestered from all conscious thought.
    The secret .
    She sighed, trying not to think of the consequences of its discovery.
    Katie . . . in the attic? The thought sent a shiver tingling down her spine. Rebecca rose and touched her kapp, letting her hand trail along the narrow white ties as she went to the back door and stood inside the utility room.
    Lord God of heaven, forgive me . She’d prayed the words silently each and every day for the past twenty-two years, wondering if God had heard. Maybe, observing her dedication and contrite heart, He had forgiven her. But if so, what was God doing now? What was He allowing to happen?
    Rebecca’s gaze swept the wide yard and beyond, toward the barn. Layers of sleet covered the sloping bank of earth that led to the two-story haymow. The ice storm had brought fierce wind, its shrill voice whistling ominously in her ears. She felt it pound against the door like an intruder and was grateful for the reliable woodstove in the center of the kitchen, warming the spacious room.
    Rebecca turned away from the cold window and glanced at the day clock, wishing Katie would hurry and come. Supper was getting cold.
    Upstairs, a blast of arctic air greeted Benjamin as he shoved open the hatchlike attic door. With little effort, he pulled himself up the ladder and into the storage room. There he was met by a strange sight. Draped halfway over a rectangular trunk, his sister sat crumpled in a heap on the cold floor, her head buried in her arms.
    The trunk lid was down now, and Benjamin saw no sign of his Mam’s wedding dress. But there was an unusual-looking piece of fabric— he couldn’t quite make out what—in his sister’s hand. Was it a scrap for a quilt?