Free The Amish Heart of Ice Mountain by Kelly Long Page B

The clumps of potato salad on the other man’s white shirt began to dance in sick drips before Mahlon’s eyes as Bishop Loftus walked slowly toward them.
    Mahlon straightened his spine before meeting his father’s gaze. He didn’t know what to expect, but he hadn’t been prepared for the sinister glare that pierced him like the blade of a knife, making him nearly back away out of fear. Then the look was gone and his fater stood, bowing his head and appearing entirely grief-stricken that his son would shame him in front of his people.
    Mahlon had been confused, shaken, as his mamm had left him, ignoring him completely as she hurried to his fater . She didn’t look at Mahlon as she laid her small hand on his fater ’s arm. Taking his side, the way she always had.
    â€œMahlon Mast.” Bishop Loftus’s voice was low but still loud enough to carry to the ears of every single witness. “What have you done?”
    A different kind of fear traveled up his spine. What did I do? Dear Gott , what did I do?
    â€œMahlon?”
    He jerked at the sound of Anne’s soft voice. Blindly, he tipped forward in his chair, trying to span the chasm between the past and the present. He slowly turned to look at her. “Jah?”
    â€œBe you well? You seem far away.”
    He got to his feet and shook his head. “I’m fine. I’ll head over to the bishop’s barn now and we will see. . . .” He swallowed, the images of that day finally fading into the recesses of his memory. “We will see what our new sohn -in-law has wrought.”
    He ignored his wife’s worried gaze and stepped off the porch into the coolness of the evening.
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    Sarah ran all the way home after her encounter with her husband in the woods. She gained the cabin and slammed the door behind her, gulping in air, only to be startled out of breath again when a peal of feminine laughter caused her heart to miss a beat.
    Sarah peered into the relative dimness of the cabin’s kitchen and saw Deborah Zook, a girl near her own age, rise from a chair with sultry grace.
    â€œ Ach , so the healer returns. It seems that Grossmuder May was a lot easier to get hold of, but of course she never looked like she could run around the mountain with her hair half down.”
    Sarah swallowed and resisted the urge to straighten her kapp and hair. She squared her shoulders instead, assuming the calm poise and confidence she used when treating members of the community.
    â€œAre you ill, Deborah? What can I do for you?”
    The dark-haired girl stepped closer, and Sarah could see the mix of mischief and curiosity in her eyes. Deborah lowered her voice, the tone more than a bit inappropriate. “I took a peek into your new bedroom.”
    Sarah frowned. “Why would you do that?”
    â€œTo see if that man of yours was home.” She smirked. “Too bad he wasn’t.”
    Sarah blew out a breath of exasperation, ignoring the rising anger she felt, not only at the girl’s nerve but that she would dare to violate Sarah’s privacy. Yet as a healer, she had a responsibility not to judge those who sought her out. Though it didn’t mean she had to be overly nice, either. “What do you need, Deborah? I’m a little busy right now.”
    Deborah dropped the smirk, her wide eyes suddenly blinking with uncertainty as she leaned closer to Sarah. “Be it true that anything I tell you here is private like—just between us?”
    Sarah hesitated. Grossmuder May had taught her that visits and ailments were to be kept confidential as much as possible, but something about Deborah’s question made her feel leery. Yet Sarah had an obligation to help . . . probably it’s only some female problem or question.... “ Jah ,” she said. “Whatever we discuss is to be kept private.”
    â€œGut.” Deborah smiled faintly. “You see, it’s like this—me and