Free The Forbidden by Beverly Lewis

Looks bad, like you’re too anxious for the fancy.”
    “Ain’t my doin’, that’s for certain.”
    “Maybe so, but you’ve been turnin’ the other way for as long as Nellie’s run that shop, ain’t so?”
    Reuben could scarcely believe the tone his son was taking with him. He refused to defend his decision to allow the bakery shop to Ephram or anyone else—plenty of Old Order families had roadside vegetable stands and the like.No, right now he was beginning to feel like walking straight out of Ephram’s barn, lest he fall into temptation and put his hands on his brawny son’s shoulders and shake him good. The grapevine was indeed ever present, but the way folk interpreted what they heard from the rumor mill was the real problem.
    “Nellie’s Simple Sweets does our family more good than harm,” he said at last. “And I’ve never had cause to question the way your sister handles things. You should have the sense to know she’d no more place an ad than I would.”
    After a terse good-bye, Reuben hurried to the buggy, more aware now of the cold. “A body shouldn’t be out in this for long,” he muttered to the horse.
    He arrived home to Betsy, who was anxious to discuss Nellie Mae. “She’s been gone awhile—on foot, no less.” She looked up, her embroidery balanced on her lap.
    “Meeting a beau, no doubt.” He glanced at the kitchen clock.
    “Not just any fella, I don’t think.”
    He knew as much. And the worst of it was knowing Caleb Yoder was not likely to shift toward the New Order— not the way his father was shooting off his mouth amongst the old church brethren. If Nellie Mae married Caleb . . . well, it meant a worrisome situation.
    “We’ll lose her,” he whispered. “She’ll submit to her beau’s way of thinkin’.”
    Betsy frowned.
    “And just when I’d hoped she might be leanin’ toward salvation.” He remembered her momentary tenderness after she’d gone with them to hear Preacher Manny that once.
    “Let God do His work in His way, love.” She reached for him.
    He bussed her cheek. “You’re right ’bout that.” He wouldn’t admit it, for surely his wife suspected it already, but he’d gladly help the Lord along, and right quick, too, where their children were concerned.
    Betsy picked up her embroidery hoop. If Reuben wasn’t mistaken, she was repeating a Scripture verse as she worked.
    He hadn’t removed his coat, since he’d intended to check on his horses. His boots left prints in the icy snow as he trudged toward the barn, where he looked in on the new foals first. When he was satisfied they each had enough bedding straw, he went to the small corner of the barn where he kept files on his horses’ breeding records, as well as their veterinary appointments. It was there also that he had put in a good many hours crafting the round tables and chairs for Nellie’s bakery shop.
    Perching on his work stool, Reuben thought again of the grapevine. “Nonsense is right,” he muttered, tracing a circle in the sawdust on the workbench. He cared not one iota who might’ve paid for the ad. As for bringing it up to Betsy, he’d let her mention it. No sense making a big to-do.
    Going to inspect one of the completed chairs, he ran his hand over its smooth seat, then the straight slats on the back. He would be finished by Monday, perhaps at just the right time, too, since Nellie Mae was well enough to tend the store again.
    Let the Englischers come. . . .
    An enclosed black buggy appeared in the near distance, and Nellie’s heart sank. Puh— no way could it be Caleb. Yet she lingered in the brush, beginning to shiver. Surely Caleb would have an explanation as to why he was this late, if he came at all.
    She had heeded his suggestion and worn two sets of long johns, donning her heaviest sweater and warmest black coat over her dress and apron. She guessed she was a sight to see, surely having expanded a few inches in girth.
    She observed the horse and carriage as it