The Photograph Read Online Free

working alongside Lily, who’d always preferred to wash. Their immediate goal was tohave the kitchen spotless for Menno’s arrival. Scanning the large room, Eva noticed the pantry door ajar; bags of sugar and flour inside needed straightening. And the book Lily was reading, still open, spine out, on the kitchen table.
    Frona was outdoors sweeping the back porch and steps, giving them a careful once-over. It wasn’t as if Menno was coming to inspect, but they’d always tidied up especially well for this rather finicky brother.
    â€œFrona’s worryin’ herself into a tizzy,” Lily said, letting the hot water drip off the plate before she set it in the dish rack. “Like she wants to impress Menno.”
    â€œWell, it’s not like we don’t try.”
    â€œHe struts around like he’s king, ya know.”
    â€œYou might have something there,” Eva replied, wondering why Lily was dawdling with the dishes.
    â€œYet I daresay Frona’s more rattled than we’ve seen her since Mamma came down sick. Remember?” Lily’s blue eyes were solemn. She washed the utensils last before drying her hands on her black apron. “ Nee, ab im Kopp is what she is.”
    â€œNow, Lily. She might worry too much, but she isn’t crazy.”
    â€œBut just look at her.” Lily nodded toward the door.
    â€œI honestly think you’re the one frettin’.”
    Lily laughed quietly and shook her head. “You think ya know me, sister, don’t ya?”
    Eva stopped drying, her dish towel in her hand. “Oh, I know you well enough, Lily. How could I not?”
    Lily walked to the table and ran her hands over the back of the chair that had always been their father’s. “All I’m sayin’ is we oughta be ready for anything.”
    Eva laughed a little. “You and Frona both  . . . what’s got into yous?” She laid the dish towel over the rack and left the room.
    Why expect the worst?

    Naomi Mast rarely baked so late in the day, but just before supper she’d gotten word one of her English neighbors needed some cheering up. Realizing she would have no time for baking first thing tomorrow, she’d set right to work. Tomorrow, sometime after breakfast, she planned to visit daughter Ida Mae, who’d asked for help with her Lone Star quilt pattern in navy, rust, and tan.
    Besides, it was good for them to keep busy, what with Dottie Esch’s passing still looming in their minds. And hearts. Naomi wasn’t one to say much about it, but she could read between the lines when Ida Mae talked about “those poor, dear Esch girls.” Fatherless and now motherless, Frona, Eva, and Lily were very much on everyone’s mind.
    Sighing, Naomi pinched the edges of her rhubarb piecrust just so. Truth be told, she missed Dottie terribly and wanted to live up to the dear woman’s faith in her to look out for her unmarried daughters.
    I gave her my word.
    It hadn’t necessarily been easy keeping that promise, what with Lily’s head-in-the-clouds attitude and Frona’s anxious temperament. Thank goodness for Eva, thought Naomi with a twinge of guilt.
    To the best of her ability, she had lovingly embraced James 1:27: Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this, To visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction . . . .
    Naomi carried the pie carefully to the counter, privately glad she wasn’t the only Plain cook clinging to the old way of doing things. Of course, she’d never think of judging any of the other Amishwomen in Eden Valley who had accepted Bishop Isaac’s long-ago nod to permitting gas stoves and other gas-powered kitchen appliances.
    Likely the bishop’ s wife wanted one, thought Naomi, then chided herself.
    Pulling small logs out of the kindling box, she stacked them in the belly of the old black cookstove. All the while, she thought of fair-haired Lily,