Free The Redemption of Sarah Cain by Beverly Lewis Page A

‘‘New England’s my home.’’
    The passenger’s eyes lit up with recognition. ‘‘You know, I thought you might be from somewhere up there. I have relatives in New Hampshire . . . they sound just like you.’’ She paused all too briefly, then continued. ‘‘What part of New England?’’
    Sarah didn’t want to appear rude, but she did want to discourage a long discourse with a stranger and get on with her reading. ‘‘Not far from Mystic, Connecticut.’’
    ‘‘That’s beautiful country up there.’’
    ‘‘Yes.’’
    ‘‘I spent several summers in Stonington when I was in my teens,’’ the young woman volunteered. ‘‘A long time ago, it seems.’’
    She refused to admit to having been born and reared there. The wounds were still too fresh.
    ‘‘I love Lancaster County. Ever been there?’’
    ‘‘This happens to be my first trip.’’
    ‘‘Oh, then by all means, let me encourage you to take a bus tour of Amish country while you’re there. It’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced.’’
    ‘‘Really?’’
    The woman was nodding, wide-eyed. ‘‘You’ll feel like you’ve stepped back in time . . . at least to the nineteenth century and then some. It’s so amazing how they can ride around with their horses and buggies, right on the main streets, no less. And the women and girls wear the cutest bonnets, like you’d expect to see on a storybook character in a play.’’
    Storybook character . . .
    The thought had never crossed her mind about Amish attire. Her own nieces and nephews were most likely as Plain as any of the other Amish sects in the Lancaster area. ‘‘Do they all dress the same?’’ she asked.
    ‘‘The Amish, you mean?’’
    Sarah nodded, feeling brazen, as if she were inquiring behind someone’s back. Her deceased sister’s . . .
    ‘‘It’s hard to tell the Old Order from the New Order or the Beachy Amish and some of the other conservative circles. Surely you know there are many varieties. You’d almost have to delve into individual Ordnungs for each church district—if that were even possible—to know for sure what is allowed and what isn’t. Most Amish adhere strictly to the Old Testament, but only certain passages of Scripture are taught in their Preaching services.’’
    She was surprised at the knowledge the woman seemed to have of Ivy’s People. ‘‘How do you know so much about the Amish?’’ she asked hesitantly.
    ‘‘I’ve made a good many friends with Mennonite young people over the years. Some of them are related to Amish. One of the girls has even dated Old Order boys. Can you imagine that?’’
    Sarah certainly could not. She was somewhat relieved to hear the pilot’s voice over the intercom. Time for the plane to taxi out to the runway for takeoff.
    ‘‘Nice meeting you,’’ she mumbled.
    ‘‘Oh, I guess I didn’t introduce myself properly. My name’s Theresa Barrows. What’s yours?’’
    Sarah forced a smile. ‘‘Sarah Cain.’’
    ‘‘Sounds Plain, you know? It really does. I think you’ll fit right in over in Lancaster County.’’
    Sarah made a slight head gesture, an unintelligible sound, reached down for her briefcase, and found her novel. A person engrossed in a book during a flight was usually able to avoid conversation. She was anxious to find out if that were true.
    The historical novel— Black Hawk —was a riveting tale set in the northwest panhandle of Idaho, near a well-known 1910 mansion on Lake Hayden, now a refurbished estate. A Native American saga and love story wrapped up in one.
    As she read, she soon found herself going back over the same sentence or paragraph three or more times. The young woman’s comments had intrigued her more than she cared to admit.
    ‘‘You’ll feel like you’ve stepped back in time. . . .’’
    Just what she didn’t need or want—an escape from reality. She was quite happy with her little self-made ‘‘kingdom’’ in Portland, thank you. A