The Forbidden Read Online Free Page B

intrigued, she was reluctant to mention it to Elias. But if her husband was discussing Scripture with Reuben Fisher, as Kate reported, maybe Elias wouldn’t mind if his wife started praying out loud.
    Sighing, she thrilled to the intimacy between her and the daughter she had longed for as Rosie began to relax. “You’re my own little darlin’,” she whispered. “You and your brother . . .”
    Thinking of the day ahead and of missing quilting bees and work frolics, Rosanna did not regret being sequestered in her home with two adorable babies. Presently it seemed she had no need for human interaction beyond that with her husband and children, though there was no chance they’d be left to themselves. The twins’ maternal grandmother, Rachel Stoltzfus, had initially come nearly as often as Kate herself, but her interest had seemingly faded in the past few days. Rosanna wondered if Kate’s keen attention might diminish over time, as well, particularly once she was no longer acting as a wet nurse.
    Feeling guilty at the thought, Rosanna allowed a short prayer to form on her lips. “Lord, help me to be generous with these little ones . . . so graciously given.”
    Betsy Fisher overheard her daughters talking in Nellie Mae’s room prior to Saturday breakfast. They had never before congregated there, at least not that Betsy recalled. Yet they were certainly there now and talking quite loudly, too—loud enough for her to make out every word.
    Rhoda’s sharp voice rose above the others. “You really ought to go again, Nellie Mae. You seem to think you’re better than the rest of us—standin’ your ground thataway!”
    “What way?” asked Nellie. “That ain’t fair to say.”
    “Sure it is,” said Nan. “Rhoda can speak her mind—it’s ’bout time someone did.”
    Nellie fell silent.
    “Jah, you should come along on Sundays,” Nan said, her tone more gentle. “Why not?”
    “I know you’d like me to join you, sisters,” Nellie answered, her words less defensive. “But I like followin’ the way we were all taught to follow since we were babes.
    Why’s that wrong now?”
    “Well, there’s nothin’ at all wrong with that if you like livin’ without electric and cars and whatnot,” Rhoda said, worrying Betsy.
    “Seems to me you’re chasin’ after the world, not Scripture,” Nellie spoke up.
    Betsy touched the small sachet pillow Suzy had made for her—the headache pillow was often tucked inside one of her pockets—and walked toward the door of Nellie’s room, her hand poised to knock. More than anything she wanted to put a stop to the senseless conversation. She’d had no idea how interested Rhoda seemed to be in fancy things, other than the necklaces dangling over her side of the dresser of late. Was Nan leaning the same way?
    She sighed, folding her hands now. She yearned for her children to know the Savior, not fuss over living in a house with or without electricity. She’d hoped they would catch that insight from Preacher Manny’s sermons, or from the Sunday school the new church was talking of starting up soon. The thought gladdened her heart, for she prayed daily that more souls would come to understand the saving grace of the Lord Jesus, bishop’s deadline or no.
    The girls were talking again, but the conversation had veered away from Preacher Manny’s Sunday meetings to the upcoming Singings and other youth-related activities planned for those in the New Order. Feeling awkward about listening in, Betsy knocked on the door.
    Nellie appeared, looking well rested, her big brown eyes brighter than usual. “Mornin’, Mamma.”
    “Anyone hungry for breakfast?”
    That got a quick response from Rhoda, who rushed past her and down the stairs. Nan followed close behind, but not before giving Nellie Mae a sidelong glance.
    Nellie remained, going to sit on her bed. Betsy said no more and simply headed toward the stairs, wanting to give her pensive daughter the room she needed.
    Rhoda