mood Rosie was having. The sheet of information they’d been given at the emergency room had warned that depression could be an aftereffect of a concussion. If Rosie seemed depressed tomorrow, she’d give their doctor a call. Katie glanced around the kitchen and, finding nothing that needed to be done, headed upstairs. It was early to be going to bed but as tired as she was she looked forward to it.
She stopped at Rosie’s room and found her tucked in bed, her eyes closed, a book open on her chest. Katie tiptoed into the room and dimmed the battery-operated lamp on the bedside table. If Rosie woke, she didn’t want her disoriented by a dark room. She eased the book out from under Rosie’s fingers and set it on the table.
Just as she reached the door she heard the rustle of bedcovers behind her. “’Night.”
Katie smiled and walked out of the room, leaving the door ajar just in case Rosie needed her. She changed into a nightgown, brushed her teeth, and climbed into bed, pulling her quilt up over her shoulders and snuggling in gratefully.
Rosie was already in the kitchen when Katie went downstairs the next morning. She stood at the stove scrambling eggs in an iron skillet while the percolator bubbled merrily on a back gas burner. Katie got a mug from a cabinet and waited until the percolator stopped and Rosie poured coffee into it. She sat at the table, took a deep breath of the steam rising from the mug, and blew on the coffee to cool it enough to take a first wary sip.
“You might have been born first, but you sure aren’t a morning person,” Rosie told her as she set a plate of scrambled eggs in front of her.
“No toast?” Katie looked up at her.
Rosie pushed the basket of toast closer to Katie’s plate and patted her shoulder before going to the stove to pour herself more coffee.
“Oh.” Katie drank more coffee and yawned and drained the mug. She got up and refilled the mug, then sat and ate her eggs and toast, her eyes focused on her plate. Rosie sat across from her, drinking her own mug of coffee as she checked off items on her to-do list.
“Don’t do it,” Katie muttered.
“Don’t do what?”
“Don’t be one of those disgusting morning people who has to tell the rest of us just how much you accomplished already this morning.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Rosie responded. She ripped the page off the pad of paper, rose and dropped it onto the table next to Katie’s plate. “I’ll just leave it here for you to peruse.”
With a sigh, Katie pushed away her plate and sat back with the remainder of her coffee.
Rosie looked up and smiled. “Ready to talk now?”
“If I must.”
“I’m going out to garden. I washed the vegetables for canning for you. They’re draining in the colanders in the sink.”
“Do you think you should be outside in the sun? You remember yesterday—”
Rosie smiled as she reached for her hat. “I’ll be fine. See you in a while.”
Katie got up and lifted the colanders from the sink, shaking them to drain off any water. She pulled the recipe card for chow chow from their mother’s wooden recipe box even though she knew it by heart: cauliflower, carrots, green beans, yellow wax beans, red kidney beans, onion, and red bell pepper. Lots of chopping, but she enjoyed working with the colorful vegetables, God’s abundance. She divided them into big pottery bowls, then filled a pot with water and added vinegar, sugar, celery seed, turmeric, and salt. She stood at the stove stirring the mixture until it came to a boil, then poured it over the vegetables.
Carrying the pan to the sink, she looked out the kitchen window and saw Rosie working in the garden. Where did you draw the line between genuinely trying to care for your sister and being considered bossy? It had been so hard seeing Rosie lying there hurt at the foot of the stairs. She didn’t want to wrap her in cotton wool, ,but she didn’t want her to overdo. People talked about being their brother’s keeper. She figured she was just being her sister’s keeper.
The vinegary aroma of freshly pickled vegetables filled the kitchen. Katie stirred the bowls of vegetables so that the liquid could cool and be absorbed. Amish chow chow relish was one of their most popular products. Tourists loved taking a jar of it home.
She used a ladle to pour the mixture into clear glass jars and screwed on the caps. The labels she and Rosie had created came last. She pasted them on each jar, gave them a satisfied glance, and took the ladle and bowls to the sink to wash up along with the pan. She looked out the window and saw Rosie use the back of her hand to wipe perspiration from her brow. She looked up, and their eyes met. Rosie waved.
Time for a break for both of them, Katie decided. She poured them both a glass of lemonade, spread chocolate chip cookies on a plate and carried them out to the porch. “Rosie! Come take a break!”
Rosie nodded and stood. Katie saw her look down at the ground and say something. Curious, she walked over to see better and shivered when she saw, just as she suspected, a black snake slither away.
Well, at least Rosie hadn’t invited Blackie to take a break with her on the porch. Katie sat in one of the rocking chairs and sipped her lemonade. Rosie sighed when she took her own seat and took her first sip of lemonade.
“So gut,” she said with a sigh. She flapped her hand at her face. “It’s nice on such a warm day.”
“I finished the first batch of chow chow relish. I have time for another before I have to get ready for work.” She gave Rosie a sidelong glance. “Don’t start. Doctor said you can’t go back today.”
“Maybe not today, but tomorrow.” Rosie lifted her chin and stared at Katie.
“Against my better judgment.”
“Ya,” agreed Rosie. “The doctor doesn’t know as much as you about concussions.”
“He doesn’t know as much about you as I do,” Katie muttered.
Rosie laughed. “Oh, Katie, you always have to have the last word.”
“Do not.”
“Do, too.”
“I do not!” Katie said with more force.
“I bet you have to have the last word.”
Katie waved a hand over her mouth. “Here, see! I’m zipping my lip. Zip!”
Rosie stared at her for a long moment. They were behaving like a couple of kinner. She burst out laughing.
The laugh started deep inside Katie and bubbled out. She laughed until tears ran down her cheeks. “Oh my,” she said. “We are a pair.”
“Two peas in a pod,” Rosie agreed with a grin.
***
Rosie felt the eyes of the congregation on her as she walked into the Beiler home for Sunday services.
The women who sat on one side were the worst—their eyes hard, their expressions disapproving. When she glanced at the men, they appeared
