“And Leah won’t never tie me up in the closet with my mouth taped shut like the girls said, neither, will she, Dat?” Stevie blurted. “And she won’t make me eat chicken poop for lunch coz she can’t cook nothin’ better. I know that, coz we have really gut grilled cheese sandwiches a lot of days!”
“Oh, Stevie, I’m sorry,” Jude murmured as he pulled his son close. “I don’t know why your sisters have put such awful ideas in your head about Leah, but I’m glad you’ve decided not to believe their hateful talk.”
Stevie nipped his lip. “Even though Alice and Adeline was talkin’ mean to Leah this morning at breakfast, Leah got real worried about ’em when they didn’t come home,” he said. “She wouldn’t never tie them up in the closet, neither, Dat. Leah’s not mean, even when the girls hurt her feelings. Anybody who loves animals so much can’t be a bad person.”
Jude closed his eyes, grateful again for his son’s unwitting insight. “You’re right about her, Stevie,” he said as he lightly clapped the lines across Rusty’s back. “Let’s get on home, and we’ll hope that Leah and the girls are already there.”
“What if they’re not, Dat?”
“We’ll take Uncle Jeremiah up on his offer to help look for them,” Jude replied.
A smile flitted across Stevie’s face. “Boy oh boy, the girls’ll be in big trouble if the bishop has to go after ’em!”
They’re already in big trouble, Jude thought as the house came into view. He’d expected the girls to feel some resentment about his new wife, but where had such hatred and disrespect come from? Why had the twins given Stevie such awful ideas about being tied in the closet and fed chicken manure?
As Jude drove down the lane toward the stable, he dared to believe he saw movement through the kitchen windows. It would take every ounce of restraint he could muster not to lash out at Alice and Adeline when he saw them—so he reminded himself that the knowledge he’d gained from Stevie would be an effective tool only if he kept it to himself until a moment his girls couldn’t deny it.
“There’s the Tink buggy!” Stevie crowed as Rusty pulled them into the stable.
Jude slipped his arm around his son as the bay entered his customary stall and came to a halt. “We guys have to stick together,” he reminded Stevie gently. “How about if you help me with the horse chores? And then, when we go inside, how about if you let me do the talking? I want to see what the girls say about their day—”
“So they tell on themselves,” Stevie put in brightly. “You do that with me sometimes, too, coz you know everything about what I’ve been doin’, huh, Dat? You know when I’m tellin’ the truth and when I’m fibbin’.”
Jude stifled a laugh, cherishing his son’s innocent honesty. “Yup, I know a lot—and God knows even more,” he pointed out. “That’s why it’s never a gut idea to lie. It makes us feel real nervous about keeping our story straight, and it makes God and other folks sad because they love us and they want us to be at peace with ourselves and with everyone around us.”
Although such religious philosophy was deep for a boy who hadn’t yet started school, Jude sensed that Stevie understood it at a gut level. As he and his boy unhitched Rusty and filled the horse troughs and feed bins, Jude recalled a time when Alice and Adeline had shone with the same exuberant, forthright beliefs . . . and he wished he could return them to such a time, before hormones and the loss of their mother had altered them so drastically.
When Jude opened the mudroom door, the aromas of beef and gravy enveloped him. The kitchen was a picture of rare domestic bliss: Alice and Adeline, dressed alike in Plain green dresses, were adding vegetables to a delicious-smelling pot of stew that bubbled on the stove while Leah was tucking a large pan of biscuits into the oven.
Relief nearly overwhelmed him. His girls were home, apparently no worse for the day’s wear—and Leah wore a placid expression that hid a slew of secrets.
Adeline turned toward the door, smiling. “Stevie! We made your favorite green Jell-O salad with peaches and pineapple.”
“And biscuits to go with the beef stew,” Alice added with a purposeful gaze at Jude. “It’s going to be a yummy supper.”
“Sounds wonderful,” Jude said as he crossed the kitchen to slip his arm around Leah. She was wearing his favorite brick-red dress and a secretive smile . . . and when he nuzzled her temple, her light brown hair smelled like cigarette smoke. “How was your day?” he asked, including his daughters in the question.
The kitchen rang with silence.
Determined not to cave in to his curiosity—or to reveal how appalled he was about the girls’ attitude—Jude meandered over to gaze into the stew pot. He caught a whiff of English perfume, which didn’t quite mask the same acrid aroma of smoke he’d smelled on Leah. Was it his imagination, or did he also smell stale beer as the twins bustled away from him to set the table?
“We girls were all very busy,” Leah finally replied, her purposeful gaze suggesting that Jude would be hearing more details later. “Denki for fetching Stevie.”
Jude nodded. Surely, Alice and Adeline would suspect that Leah had had a reason for dropping off their younger brother, but he kept playing along with his wife’s ruse. “Jeremiah thought Stevie would enjoy watching the livestock—”
“And I got to hear Dat be an auctioneer!” Stevie crowed. “He talks really fast!”
As they set the food on the table, Alice and Adeline chatted with their brother about what he’d seen at the sale. In their crisp pleated kapps and modest dresses, the twins appeared to be models of
