Free Forever Amish by Kate Lloyd

formed a meager smile, and she said, “Sally, let me help you.”
    Armin was sock-footed, and I realized I should have deposited my grime-covered shoes in the back room. I stepped out of them and peeled off my socks.
    â€œHere, I can take those.” Lizzie placed them on a mat just inside the kitchen. “You can go barefoot if you like. Or I’ll lend you slippers.”
    My soaked jeans plastered my calves and ankles like a second skin. “Thank you. I didn’t think to bring extra shoes, other than for running.” When packing today, I’d envisioned sprinting out of my cozy B&B in the morning before breakfast and taking a jog under sunny skies.
    â€œYa never drank your tea, and it’s gone cold.” Lizzie examined my cup. “And your cookie’s only half eaten.”
    â€œI’ll run upstairs, change into dry clothes, and be right back.” I looked for my bag. “I didn’t bring much.”
    â€œMamm put your belongings in your room,” Lizzie said. “I’ll have hot water waiting for you when you return.”
    â€œGreat. Then you and I can sit down and talk.”
    â€œYah. We can chat.”
    Reuben frowned at Lizzie’s enthusiasm. I was evidently an unwelcome influence on his daughter. He had yet to acknowledge me for helping Lizzie lock the store, then giving her a ride home. Jeremy had threatened to ditch her in town; she could still be walking if I hadn’t. Did Reuben hold me responsible for the gruesome weather like a woman jinxing a boat at sea?
    As I left the room, Armin said, “I’d best be turning in,” before I could thank him for escorting me to the car. Even if he’d razzed me, I was grateful he’d braved the storm. Not many men would. Certainly not Donald. I turned to reenter the kitchen and heard the door shut.
    Then Rhoda said, “What got ya in such a foul mood tonight, Reuben?” To give them privacy, I closed the door but could still hear their voices.
    â€œBesides the bishop’s harping at me and his accusations?” he said. “And the whole district is privy to Lizzie’s tomfoolery.”
    â€œYa know, Dat?” Lizzie said.
    â€œI told him last week,” Rhoda said. “As soon as Arthur spilled the beans. You should show your dat the same respect.”
    â€œI’m afraid our Arthur likes to gossip with his riders,” Lizzie said. I heard someone stacking dishes, placing them in a cupboard, its door swinging shut.
    â€œWhen you’re riding with him, sit in the backseat and button your lips,” Reuben said.
    â€œIt’s not as if I haven’t known Arthur my whole life,” Lizzie said.
    â€œAnd ya can’t blame the bishop’s visit on our Lizzie,” Rhoda said. “That was partly your doing.”
    They fell silent, although I guessed Reuben had plenty on his mind.
    I felt a wave of relief relax my shoulders. Their argument had nothing to do with me. The family was engulfed in a personal spat. Bad timing on my part. I would ignore their dispute—something to do with a prying bishop and a guy named Arthur.
    Â 

CHAPTER 7
    I headed for the staircase leading to the second floor. I passed Lizzie’s brothers, Jeremy and Peter, in the living room. Seeing them seated before the stone fireplace clad in trousers and suspenders, their shaggy hair dusting the tops of their ears, I felt transported back a century.
    Jeremy stared at my soaked jeans and bare feet. “What happened?” he asked.
    â€œWere ya outside on this brutal night?” Peter gaped at my damp legs. Then he looked away, his cheeks blushing. Embarrassed by my revealing silhouette?
    â€œI was checking on my car.” At least my long-sleeved T-shirt remained unscathed and wasn’t sticking to me. Comparing myself to Rhoda’s and Lizzie’s modest dress, I questioned my motives for exposing my shape to the whole world. No wonder Reuben had been put