Pennsylvania Patchwork Read Online Free Page A

refrigerator. Then she glided onto the seat next to Nathaniel.
    â€œShall we thank the Lord?” Nathaniel made his usual guttural sound, and we all bowed our heads as he led us in a silent prayer. Was I praising God? Not really; my thoughts scattered like dried dandelions in the autumn wind.
    When Nathaniel cleared his throat and the prayer ended with “Amen,” my mother spoke. “Mamm?” Mom brightened her voice; I recognized the shimmering quality of her sugarcoated incentives. “How about we go shopping for Nathaniel’s slippers after your doctor’s appointment the day after tomorrow?” she said.
    â€œWhat appointment?” The corners of Mommy Anna’s mouth veered down. “Ya made an appointment without asking me?”
    â€œI was going to tell you as soon as we prayed and served the food.” Mom unfolded a napkin, stretched it across her lap.
    â€œIs Beth taking us?” Mommy Anna asked.
    â€œNo, Beth doesn’t know a thing about it. I’m your daughter, and I’ll hire a driver.”
    â€œWhy didn’t you tell me sooner?” My grandma had become surly the last couple weeks.
    â€œI only found out yesterday afternoon. Dr. Brewster had a cancellation, and I wanted to set up a ride before I told you.”
    â€œThat’s wonderful.” I felt a smack of contrition for not placing Mommy Anna’s health issues ahead of everything else in the world.
    â€œAch, I still haven’t located a driver,” Mom said. “I got distracted.”
    â€œMaybe Zach could take us,” I said. “Or would we all fit in his pickup?”
    â€œI doubt it.” Mom wrung her hands. “He’s such a busy man.”
    In a flash, my mind catapulted back to our Seattle home, to the evening she unveiled her well-kept secrets. She’d claimed—my whole life—she had no living relatives, even though she knew I’d longed for a humongous family. I thought I’d forgiven, but I didn’t completely trust her or understand her motivation.
    â€œMom, do you know something I don’t?”
    She passed the butter. “Not exactly.”
    I’d endured a lifetime of my mother’s sidestepping the truth, so I pressed her for details. “Please, if there’s something I should know.”
    â€œI saw Zach’s truck in Beth’s driveway a little while ago.”
    â€œIt must have been someone else’s.” I selected a muffin, then passed the cloth-lined basket to Armin.
    â€œI recognized his pickup.” Mom ladled casserole onto Nathaniel’s plate. He seemed awfully quiet. I reminded myself he wasn’t a chatterbox type to begin with, and he’d no doubt been up since dawn milking his cows.
    â€œThere must be a hundred pickups like his.” I slathered a muffin with butter, watched it soften and melt.
    â€œNo, there aren’t,” Nathaniel said. “I can recognize almost every pickup in the county.”
    â€œRemember, I’ve ridden in it.” Mom served my grandmother a scoop of casserole and placed her fork on the edge of her plate like Mommy Anna was a child.
    â€œWhy would Zach drive to his mother’s, when he knows we’re expecting him?” I persisted.
    â€œUnless she summoned him,” Mom said.
    â€œI surely hope Beth’s okay.” Mommy Anna had yet to taste her meal.
    â€œI’m sure she’s fine.” My mother speared a slice of blood-red tomato with her fork. “Maybe she ran out of sugar.”
    â€œZach’s a mamma’s boy?” Armin said, and smirked. He glanced my way as he served himself chow-chow.
    â€œHow dare you?” I placed my elbows on the table.
    â€œWhat?” Armin shrugged one shoulder. “Isn’t mamma’s boy an Englisch expression?”
    Mom covered her grin with her napkin.
    â€œYou’re bad-talking my fiancé,” I said, “and I don’t appreciate