An Amish Family Christmas. Marta Perry
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Sara Esch caught her eye. “What are you thinking that makes you smile so, Susannah?”
“Ach, she must be smiling because Toby Unger is back in town.” Silence fell after Sally Ann’s comment. She’d always had a gift for blurting out what other people might think but not say.
“No, I was remembering the day we snuck off and had our picture taken. Sally Ann, you were so nervous you dropped your share of the money three or four times.”
Sally Ann grinned, her good nature never letting her take offense when teased. “I was imagining the bunch of us getting hauled in front of the church to confess. I was sure my parents would have a fit if they found out.”
“It was pretty hard to keep them from finding out.” Rachel Mast commented, sensible as always. “After all, there was the photo.”
It had been a fad for a time among Amish teens to have a professional photo made of their group during rumspringa, before any of them joined the church. The practice was frowned on by the older folks but generally accepted as part of growing up.
“Ach, the boys did far worse than that during their rumspringa,” Becky said. “They were no doubt glad that was all the mischief we got up to.” She rose from the table and moved to the oak cabinet against the wall, opening a drawer. “And here it is. We were a pretty good-looking bunch, ain’t so?” She passed the picture around the table.
“I don’t think we’ve changed all that much,” Susannah said, accepting the picture. She glanced down at the smiling faces.
The photographer had taken the picture of the group in a park, arranging the eight of them in various positions on and around a weathered picnic table. She’d thought it odd at the time, and it was only later that she realized what an artist he had been.
The eight of them looked so much more natural than they would have lined up in a row. She studied their youthful faces. They’d all been eighteen then.
Her gaze was arrested by her own face gravely smiling back at her, and her heart gave an odd thud. She’d said they hadn’t changed much, but the face of the younger Susannah had had a sweetness and an innocence that she wouldn’t find if she looked in the mirror now. She’d been a girl then, looking forward to marriage, secure in Toby’s love. She handed the photo on to the next person, happy not to spend any more time staring at her younger self.
Rachel pushed her empty pie plate away, sighing. “The kinder seem happy to have two new students in the school. Although from what I hear from Simon, young William is a bit of a handful.”
“Just like his daadi was.” Sally Ann grinned. “Remember when he put a whoopie pie on the teacher’s chair and she sat on it?”
The resulting laughter had a slightly nervous edge, as if her friends weren’t sure how she’d react to mentions of her old love.
Well, she had to let them see that it didn’t bother her in the least. “Luckily for me, William hasn’t thought of that trick. I just hope nobody mentions it to him.”
“We won’t tell,” Becky said. “More snitz pie, anyone?” She held the knife poised over yet another dried-apple pie, but she didn’t get any takers.
“So I hear Toby is spending a lot of time at the schoolhouse.” Sally Ann’s blue eyes twinkled, but there was an edge to her voice. Clearly there had been talk.
Well, maybe she could use the Amish grapevine to her advantage. “Toby’s kinder are finding it difficult to adjust to losing their mother and then moving to a new place. I thought it would help them feel more comfortable if their daad was around for a week or so, and helping with the Christmas program seemed a perfect way of doing so.”
There was a general murmur of approval. Good. The reason for Toby’s presence would be passed along, and hopefully, other people would be equally understanding.
“And it gives the two of you time together, too, ain’t so?” Sally Ann was irrepressible. “Take advantage of it, and you might have Toby falling for you all over again.”
Susannah’s smile froze. Several women started up their chatter again, obviously thinking Sally Ann had gone too far this time.
It wasn’t malicious, Susannah knew, glancing at Sally Ann’s ruddy, cheerful face. But it hurt, anyway, and the way her stomach was twisting made her think she shouldn’t have had that last piece of dried-apple pie.
Which was worse—to have people thinking, like Keim, that she was acting improperly? Or to have them assume she was trying to snare Toby into marriage again?
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