Free Secret, The by Beverly Lewis Page A

sparkled.
    “What were ya thinkin’?”
    Mandy walked to the doorway and turned, her face beaming. “How ’bout if we take Willow out to the meadow and ride her bareback? That’d be such fun!”
    Their horses were meant for pulling carriages and market wagons, not riding, as Mandy well knew. Some bishops were rather opposed to the latter. “What would Dat say to that?” asked Grace.
    Mandy wore a mischievous grin. “Well . . . if you must know, I already said something to Mamma.”
    “Jah? And?”
    “She doesn’t think it’s anything to worry ’bout, as long as we aren’t out on the road . . . ya know, showin’ off.”
    “All right, then . . . if Mamma says not to flaunt, we won’t.”
    Mandy fluttered her fingers in a little wave and left the room.
    Grace jumped out of bed and closed the door. She picked up her brush and began counting the strokes as she brushed her hair. What will come of this day?
    She knew one thing: She didn’t feel a speck older than yesterday, even though the calendar said otherwise. She pulled on her robe and raised the green shade all the way, then sat near the window to read from the Psalms. When she was finished, she prayed a blessing on the day and for all those she might encounter, gathered up her clean clothes, and headed downstairs for a warm bath before the rest of the family awakened. Her father had spent a lot of time and money putting two modern bathrooms in the house. One on their side and one over where Dawdi and Mammi lived. She sometimes wished for a washroom upstairs, as well . . . just down the hall a few steps from Mandy’s and her bedrooms. But Dat had said they must make do with what they had. As it was, Mammi Adah was mighty happy about having a fancy indoor bathroom. She enjoyed the convenience of a nice big tub and modern facilities, especially during winter months.
    Grace reached for the shampoo and lathered up, taking special care with her hair, eager for it to be shiny and clean.
    What will Henry do for my birthday?
    She hurried along, stopping herself each time she felt the urge to hum, holding back. Truth was, she wondered if Henry’s shyness, even awkwardness, might hinder him from wanting to celebrate.
    Today she wished to get a head start on breakfast, even though Mamma might surely have something planned already. Still, Grace wanted to get the day off on the right foot to make certain things were just as they should be.
    Several other years, on landmark birthdays such as sixteen—the start of courting age—her mother had surprised them with homemade waffles and specialty soufflés or, Grace’s very favorite, cinnamon rolls and a spritz of chocolate syrup in her coffee.
    Such happy memories of gathering round the table for a delicious birthday breakfast. She allowed herself to hum. A few more minutes won’t hurt , she decided.
    She thought again of Henry, who was the most handsome of all the fellows she’d known. So much so, she sometimes pinched herself. Why did he pick me?
    She had been told by several young men that she was pretty. “ Mighty pleasing, in fact,” Yonnie had once said right to her face during one of the three short evenings he had gone walking with Grace last year, before Henry had asked her out riding. Such compliments were foreign to the Plain way . . . leaving room for vanity to grow.
    She had to smile as she recalled Yonnie’s peculiar ways. Even then, he’d never bothered to take a horse or courting buggy to Singings or other youth gatherings; they’d walked everywhere. Never had she gotten more exercise in her life. Grace had sometimes thought that if the Lancaster bishops ever got wind of it, they might want to encourage this rather irregular way of courting—perhaps it might keep young folk more attentive to the youth in their own church district.
    Plenty of stories floated around about young men who were sweet on several girls, so she supposed Yonnie wasn’t unusual in taking his time to choose. And from what