Free Butterfly Garden by Annette Blair Page A

from his look that Adam saw her jealousy for what it was. “She had to.”
    “Then why not tell me?  You’ve set me to do the same task.”  She hated begging but needed answers.
    Adam looked at her with an expression she could not read. Pity?  Concern?  Surprise — that she was subject to such a weakness as jealousy?  “Ignorance in this will deliver you,” he finally said. “I could not save Abby, but I can save you and the girls. Besides, you’re stronger than Abby ever was.”
    “You make no sense, Adam.”
    “More than you will ever know. This is best.”
    Sara did not believe it, but, ultimately, neither of them had a choice anyway. “The Elders will tell us to separate,” she said. “And we will. Because we want to stay Amish, we will do what they tell us.”
    Adam only nodded.
    “But which of us will get the girls?” she asked.
    “You will; I promise you will,” he said, giving her the answer she both craved and dreaded.
    Adam saw, when they entered the Hostetler barn, that many of their neighbors already sat on the backless benches delivered for this purpose. Rows of hatless, bearded men sat on one side, facing like rows of kapped women sitting opposite. How often had he seen the sight, yet not taken it in?
    Why, today, did it seem so new?
    Hung on nails, a crazy-quilt array of wide-brimmed, plain-crown, black felt hats covered the rough barn wall beside the men. On the wall opposite, hung a sparse scattering of small, but identical hats, because the boys sat with their mothers. All the females, no matter what age, kept their bonnets on, because the fire in the barn’s pot-bellied stove did little to take the edge off the cold.
    As Adam, Sara and the girls stepped into the barn, they became the center of attention, the coo and rustle of doves in the eaves lonely accompaniment to their entry. Adam bristled at the notion. Why did he notice everything today when usually he heard and saw nothing?
    Sara sat with the women, Pris on her lap, Lizzie beside her with baby Hannah in her arms, Katie at their feet.
    Adam nodded and took the seat indicated, alone in the center. He was to be the one chastised, then. So be it. Better than Sara, he thought. He would not wish that on her. She had been too good to his girls. And to him.
    He owed her.
    And if he knew what it was he owed her — or what he wanted from her, for that matter — he would be less uncomfortable, he was certain.
    Bishop Weaver entered and began preaching.
    Added to the usual three-hour service would be two events. The first would be the choosing of a new preacher, necessary as the new district had grown. This would begin right after the Deacon’s sermon, and before the foolish hearing over Adam’s, ‘occasion for sin.’
    Roman looked sheepish when those very words were spoken. Sheepish like Ginger, Adam’s German Shepherd, had looked this very morning, when Adam had taken the pups she’d ‘adopted’ and given them back to Sara’s dog, Trixie. No matter Trixie’s flightiness, those pups belonged with their real—
    Adam bristled and wished he had not thought of that. Blasted dogs. Interfering Roman.
    At the Bishop’s request, people began suggesting candidates for preacher. Some names came up more often than others. Roman’s was mentioned only once, but Adam saw by his look that he did not want the ‘honor.’  Well that was too bad. Adam did not want to be in the center of them right now. He did not want Sara to leave with the girls, either. Well, he did, but only when she was ready — when he was ready, he meant. Except that Roman had interfered — he was certain it was Roman.
    Adam crossed his arms and seconded Roman’s name for consideration.
    Zeb Coblentz repeated it, as did Zack Zimmer.
    Just for fun, Adam said it again.
    Others took up the call. Seemed many thought that the man turning green in the corner would make a good preacher, town gossip or not.
    Adam caught Sara’s look. She knew what he’d done. He