Plain Jayne Read Online Free Page A

informing them that, in less than twenty-four hours in Miami, she’d managed to wind up in the ER with sunstroke.
    Nothing from Shane.
    And nothing from Ethel the Mennonite columnist, who had sounded optimistic about finding an Amish host family for me.
    I thought about calling Shane but then changed my mind. With me gone, he was probably stationed in front of the TV, and a conversation punctuated with “How could he miss that shot?” wasn’t my idea of fun.
    Instead, I typed out my notes from my interview with Levi and settled in for an evening watching
Little House on the Prairie
reruns.

    I parked my bike in front of Levi’s shop at ten thirty the next morning. I entered through the customer service office, a little electronic
ding
signaling my presence. Footsteps sounded down the hall. As they approached, they seemed to slow until the person stepped cautiously around the corner.
    â€œAre you the, um, the reporter?” the man asked, his face turning brick red.
    â€œYes, I am,” I said slowly, not wanting to scare him.
    His head bobbed a couple times. “Okay. Okay, good, that’s good. Um, Levi told me if you came that he’d be back in just five, maybe six minutes.”
    â€œOh. That’s fine.”
    â€œI’m Grady,” he said, holding out his hand like a peace offering.
    â€œNice to meet you, Grady.”
    â€œDid you, um, go to high school in Lincoln City?”
    Oh, no. His face did look a little familiar. “Taft?”
    A tentative smile touched his lips. “Yeah. Are you Beth’s sister?”
    I sighed on the inside. More than sixty miles away, and I still couldn’t run incognito. “Yes. My older sister.”
    â€œWe graduated the same year. I moved here a couple years ago,” he said, giving a sheepish smile. “Too many carpenters in Lincoln City.”
    â€œTrue, very true.” As in, you could throw a rock in any direction and hit a contractor.
    â€œI was sorry to hear about your dad,” he added. “My mom told me.”
    My inward sigh deepened. I hugged my arms to myself. “Thanks,” I said, not knowing what else to say.
    Levi chose that moment to step through the shop door. “Good, you’re here.” He closed the door behind him. “Hope you haven’t been waiting long, Jayne.”
    I shook my head. “Grady and I have been catching up.”
    â€œWe went to the same high school,” Grady told Levi.
    Levi’s eyebrows lifted. “Really? In Lincoln City?”
    â€œHer dad was an elder in the church I grew up in.”
    Ah. No wonder he knew. “He passed away recently,” I blurted out, wanting to get that in the open before Grady could.
    Levi’s face softened. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
    I hiked my bag higher up my shoulder and nodded.
    â€œI’m ready to go when you are,” he said.
    â€œGo?” I’d anticipated another interview in his office.
    â€œI’m desperate for coffee.”
    â€œThere’s coffee in the kitchen…” Grady offered.
    â€œSpencer made it.”
    Grady winced. “Oh.”
    Levi turned back to me. “Are you game? There’s a coffee shop within walking distance.”
    â€œAh…sure. That sounds fine.”
    â€œExcellent.” He brushed off the few remaining wood shavings from his shirt. “If Mrs. Van Gerbig calls, tell her the walnut came in and she’ll be very pleased.”
    Grady nodded and then Levi and I set off.
    â€œTell me how you decided to write about the Amish,” Levi said about six steps into our walk. “I gather you’re not on assignment.”
    â€œI’m a staff reporter for the
Oregonian
,” I answered, fighting the indignation welling inside me. “But I also write freelance on the side.”
    â€œNo offense to your professionalism. I just figured there’s no breaking story around here—didn’t think a