Free The Redemption of Sarah Cain by Beverly Lewis Page B

‘‘world’’ that had been a long time coming. She was much smarter than to let herself get caught up or lost in the nineteenth century.
    Exasperated, she closed her eyes but kept the book open, letting her thoughts slip away. . . .
    When Mother had been ill—unable to tend to Sarah—it was Ivy who frequently volunteered, and all too eagerly. Her suffocating approach, even as a teenager, caused Sarah to lash out. She could scarcely tolerate Ivy’s obnoxious behavior, under the guise of ‘‘helping Mother.’’ Sarah had so despaired of the wornout expression that she often clamped her hands over her ears. She’d much rather have Mother looking out for her, though their mother was sickly and sometimes too frail to keep up with Sarah’s inquisitive mind, not to mention her mischievous fingers.
    So it was Ivy—hovering sister that she was—who attempted to take up the slack for Mother’s ongoing lassitude. ‘‘You ought to be glad I’m here to look after you,’’ Ivy would say, her hands on her shapely hips as she stood in the kitchen doorway, wearing one of Mother’s handmade ruffled aprons, insisting that Sarah ‘‘come inside and get out of the dirt this instant!’’
    Thinking back to those days, Sarah realized anew that the ridiculous aprons Ivy wore in her late teens were a mere foreshadowing of the unfashionable clothes she would wear as a Plain wife and mother of five. Laughable, to say the least. Though with Ivy’s life cut short unexpectedly, Sarah wondered now if she had missed something important along the way. Something that might have given her a clue—something tangible to go on—regarding Ivy’s decision to abandon her modern heritage and join the ranks of the Plain community. What in her and Ivy’s mutual childhood upbringing had supplied her sister with the fuel to fire such a change? Was it truly a yearning for the ‘‘Old Ways’’ as Ivy so often wrote, her hand steady on the simple, unadorned page, her letters and loops perfectly formed? Had Sarah failed to read between the lines?
    What had she overlooked?
    Second Officer Mitchell’s voice intruded on her thoughts, pointing out their location over Cleveland, Ohio, and giving the current temperature in Harrisburg.
    Sarah straightened in the seat, closing her book, eager for the flight attendants to serve up something cold to drink. Glancing out of the corner of her eye, she was thankful to see the Bible college woman engrossed in what appeared to be an Amish cookbook.
    Terrific , she thought, eyeing the male flight attendant and toying with the idea of ordering a stiff drink or two. On second thought, perhaps she should tough it out soberly for whatever might lie ahead for her in the ‘‘back-in-time’’ land of Grasshopper Level.

Chapter Nine

    J ah, you must wear your warmest coat this-after,’’ Lydia reminded Josiah and Hannah as they made ready to go outside and play following the Sunday noon meal.
    ‘‘But, Lyddie, it ain’t so awful cold now, is it?’’ Josiah insisted, his forehead knitting into a big frown.
    ‘‘It was right chilly on the ride home from church, I’d say.’’ She patted the top of his thick blond hair, cut straight under his ears—the common Plain blunt-cut.
    ‘‘But I just know it’s gonna get warmer!’’ the child insisted. ‘‘It’s got to!’’
    Lydia bent low, eye level with her adorable brother. ‘‘And why is that?’’
    His round face broke into an angelic smile. ‘‘ ’Cause me and Caleb are gonna build tall snow forts out near the barn, that’s why!’’
    Chuckling, Lydia stood up. ‘‘Now, is that so?’’ She resisted the urge to correct his grammar. ‘‘Well, why didn’t you say so in the first place?’’
    Josiah’s blue eyes widened and his brow wrinkled with wonder. ‘‘I been tryin’ to tell ya things, Lyddie, honest I have. Seems you don’t hear me half the time.’’
    Her brother’s words jabbed at her heart. Silence drifted through