Plain Truth Read Online Free Page B

herself.
    On the drive home, Leda explained that she had been Plain until she married Frank—who wasn't Plain. By the rules of her religion, she was put under the bann —restricted from certain social contact with people who were still Amish. She could talk to Amish friends and family, but couldn't eat at the same table with them. She could sit beside them on the bus, but not offer them a ride in her car. She could buy from them, but needed a third party—me—to transact the sale.
    Her parents, her sisters and brothers—they lived less than ten miles away.
    â€œAre you allowed to go see them?” I'd asked.
    â€œYes, but I hardly ever do,” Leda told me. “You'll understand one day, Ellie. I'm not keeping my distance because it's uncomfortable for me. I'm keeping my distance because it's uncomfortable for them.”
    Leda was waiting when the train pulled into the Strasburg railroad station. As I stepped off, carrying my two bags, she held out her arms. “Ellie, Ellie,” she sang. She smelled of oranges and Windex; her wide shoulder was the perfect place to rest my head. I was thirty-nine years old, but in Leda's embrace, I was eleven again.
    She led me toward the small parking lot. “You going to tell me what's the matter now?”
    â€œNothing's the matter. I just wanted to visit you.”
    Leda snorted. “The only time you come to visit is when you're about to have a nervous breakdown. Did something happen with Stephen?” When I didn't answer, she narrowed her eyes. “Or maybe nothing happened with Stephen—and that's the problem?”
    I sighed. “It's not Stephen. I finished a very trying case, and … well, I needed to relax.”
    â€œBut you won the case. I saw it on the news.”
    â€œYeah, well, winning isn't everything.”
    To my surprise, she didn't say anything in response. I fell asleep as soon as Leda pulled onto the highway, and woke with a start when she pulled into her driveway. “I'm sorry,” I said, embarrassed. “I didn't mean to conk out like that.”
    Leda smiled and patted my hand. “You spend as much time as you need to relaxing here.”
    â€œOh, it won't be for long.” I took my bags from the backseat and hurried up the porch steps behind Leda.
    â€œWell, we're glad to have you, for two nights or two dozen.” She cocked her head. “Phone's ringing,” she said, pushing open the door and rushing in to pick up the receiver. “Hello?”
    I set down my suitcases and stretched to work out the kinks in my back. Leda's kitchen was neat as a pin, just like always, and looked exactly the way I had remembered: the stitched sampler on the wall, the cookie jar in the shape of a pig, the black and white squares of linoleum. Closing my eyes, it was easy to pretend I'd never left here, to believe that the most difficult choice I'd have to make that day was whether to curl up in an Adirondack chair out back or on the creaky swing on the screened porch. Across the kitchen, Leda was clearly surprised to hear the voice of whoever it was that had called. “Sarah, Sarah, sssh,” she soothed. “Was ist letz? ” I could only make out small snippets of unfamiliar words: an Kind … er hat an Kind gfuna … es Kind va dodt . Sinking down on a counter stool, I waited for Leda to finish the call.
    When she hung up, her hand remained on the receiver for a long moment. Then she turned to me, pale and shaken. “Ellie, I am so sorry, but I have to go somewhere.”
    â€œDo you need me—”
    â€œYou stay here,” Leda insisted. “You're here to rest.”
    I watched her pull away in her car. Whatever the problem was, Leda would fix it. She always did. Putting my feet up on a second stool, I smiled. I'd been in Paradise for fifteen minutes, and I felt better already.

THREE
    â€œN eh!” Katie screamed, kicking out at the paramedic who was trying to