“Fine idea,” Jude said with a knowing nod at Lenore. “I suspect there’s fabric in the closet of the middle bedroom where the sewing machine is, too, because Frieda made a trip to the Cedar Creek Mercantile a few days before she passed.”
Lenore blinked. The twins’ stricken expressions told her that this mention of their mother’s death had caught them by surprise, as grief often did. “That means we’ll have plenty to choose from,” she said, smiling at Alice and Adeline. “With the three of us working at it, we should be able to whip up dresses and shirts for all of you—as well as diapers and clothes for Betsy.”
The twins exchanged a doubtful glance. “The three of us?” one of them asked as she lifted the lid from a bin.
“I take it Leah won’t be sewing?” the other sister remarked archly.
Lenore bit back a retort as she handed Betsy to her daughter. “As you can see, Leah’s got her hands full, caring for—”
“Well, Alice, at least we’ve got some cool colors to choose from,” Adeline said as she held up a large roll of magenta fabric. “Can’t you see us wearing crop tops and capris made from this?”
Alice laughed and lifted other rolls of fabric from the bin. “And sleeveless minidresses made from this tangerine piece—with the kitten heels we saw in the shoe store last week!”
Crop tops and capris? Kitten heels? Lenore had no idea what the twins were talking about—except she was certain no Plain woman would be seen wearing the items the girls had mentioned. I guess I’ll be glad they at least like the colors I’ve chosen and go from there. Give me patience, Lord. I’m going to need a wagonload of it.
Chapter 12
“I smell coffee,” Jude said as he held Leah close beneath the covers.
“Maybe we’ve died and gone to heaven, because I smell cinnamon rolls,” Leah teased. She squinted at the alarm clock on the nightstand. “It’s barely four-thirty. Mama and I made the roll dough last night and put it in the fridge. I insisted we could scramble eggs—cook something easy her first morning here—but bless her, she’s gotten up early enough to bake those rolls for our breakfast.”
“Maybe she had trouble sleeping in a strange place.”
Leah bussed Jude’s cheek and swung her legs over the side of the bed. “The least I can do is go downstairs and help her—and make sure she’s all right. After Dat passed, she took to sleeping in while I went out to tend the animals. I love having her here pampering us, but not at the expense of her getting enough rest.”
“You go ahead. I’ll see to Betsy,” Jude whispered.
Leah smiled as she reached for the dress she’d draped over the back of the rocking chair the previous evening. With her mother in the kitchen filling the house with the aromas of her cooking, and Jude being so considerate about caring for Betsy, life felt really good again—even if having a baby around required a new kind of patience. From years of practice, Leah dressed quickly in the darkness and wound her hair into a fat bun at the nape of her neck. When she’d determined that Betsy was still sleeping soundly in the bassinet, she slipped into the hallway with her shoes in her hand.
Leah padded downstairs and into the kitchen, cherishing the sight of her mother in the lamplight. “Mama, gut morning! When I asked you to cook for us, I didn’t mean you had to start in the wee hours,” she said lightly. “I hope you slept well?”
Mama opened the oven door and removed two pans of high, puffy cinnamon rolls. She appeared troubled, and didn’t reply until she’d set the pans on trivets to cool. “I slept fine until I heard activity in the twins’ room—and the rumble of a big truck that pulled in from the road. It’s a wonder they don’t fall to their death climbing down that tree in the dark.”
Leah sighed. The room she shared with Jude was on the opposite side of the house from the girls’ room, and she was so tired by evening that she slept too soundly to notice them slipping out. “So much for them obeying their dat’s order to stay at home,” she said as she slipped an arm around her mother. “I’m sorry they woke you. Oh my, but your cinnamon rolls smell gut.”
“You can stir up the frosting for them,” Mama instructed, pointing toward a slip of paper fixed to the refrigerator with a magnet. “I jotted the recipe for you. I wish it were as easy to write you a solution to Alice and Adeline’s dangerous behavior. Amish girls have been slipping out with their beaux since before I was born, but . . . well, it doesn’t feel as worrisome when girls meet boys who’re driving buggies rather than big, fancy trucks.”
Leah smiled at her mother’s sentiment. Plain boys have the same urges as English ones, she mused as she took milk and butter from the refrigerator to make the frosting. But she would feel better if Adeline and Alice were dating Amish boys, because Plain fellows were more likely to share the same values and sense of responsibility Jude’s girls had been raised with. Not that the twins’ values are shining through their current behavior.
After she’d mixed the frosting with the rotary beater—noting how lumpy it looked, compared to the frosting Mama always made—Leah went out to tend her animals. In the shadowy barn, while milking her goats by lantern light and feeding her ducks and chickens, she felt a sense of peace and predictability. It was such a blessing to work with animals that trusted her and were truly happy to see her. She found herself wishing such barnyard harmony could be cultivated in the house. Leah had hoped that her mother’s presence would inspire Alice and Adeline to be more tolerant and polite—at least for
