“We’ve always found ways to sidetrack them,” Alice mumbled. “But today, if you hadn’t shown up . . .”
“They were really drunk, and determined to take us to some motel down the road,” Adeline finished in a tight voice. “I’ve never been so scared in my life.”
“We were so glad to see you come in with Uncle Jeremiah, Dat,” Alice admitted in a quavery voice. “You and Leah were right about them all along, and we were too stupid to see it. We—we didn’t know it was illegal for us to be at the pool hall.”
“Jah, we thought we were just being grown up, drinking beer like everybody else who was there,” Adeline said.
“We don’t even like beer,” Alice whispered, grimacing.
Leah kept stirring biscuit batter to keep from crying. She didn’t want to think about how the morning might have gone had Jude and Jeremiah not arrived with the sheriff in time.
“Well, part of that was Rick’s negligence for not asking to see proof of your age. Some things never change,” Jude said with a disgusted shake of his head. “But some of the blame is mine. When we found out you’d been going to the pool hall, I should’ve told you straight out that underage drinking is against the law—and I should’ve read the riot act to Rick about it, too.”
Adeline sighed, resting her head in her hands. “You and Leah did tell us we shouldn’t go there—”
“But we didn’t want to listen,” Alice said glumly. “We thought being in rumspringa meant we could try anything. We never dreamed that Phil and Dexter would turn so mean.”
“Jah, they said they killed the cows to get our attention because we weren’t answering the cell phone,” Adeline recounted shrilly.
“They figured we’d come to the pool hall, and we were stupid enough to play right into their plan,” Alice said with a loud sigh. “I—I’m sorry we’ve caused you so much trouble, Dat. Denki for saving our hides today.”
“Jah, can you believe us—trust us—when we say we’ve learned our lesson?” Adeline asked plaintively. “If you want us to confess at church, Uncle Jeremiah, we’ll be on our knees.”
“We need all the forgiveness we can get,” Alice agreed. “From you two, and Leah as well.”
After several moments of silence, Leah looked up from rolling and cutting biscuits. She believed the twins were sincere—and the torn expression on Jude’s face told her he was near tears, relieved to hear what his daughters were saying after dealing with their misbehavior these past few months.
Jeremiah clasped his hands on the table and leaned toward the girls. “I believe God has already heard your confession,” he said softly. “This might be a gut time for all of us to offer Him our thanks for His presence and guidance this morning.”
Leah laid aside her biscuit cutter and stood at the counter with her floured hands clasped and her head bowed. We owe You so much, dear Lord, she prayed. Help the girls go forward from this difficult morning to live their lives with Your purpose in their hearts and Your wisdom in their minds. Guide us as we parent them, too.
When Jude released the breath he’d been holding, Leah felt the tension in the kitchen dissipate. The gurgling of the percolator reminded her that normal life could go on, now that Alice and Adeline realized what serious mistakes they’d made.
“I’m pleased—and relieved—to hear you talking this way, girls,” Jude finally said to them. “I feel as though my real daughters have been restored to me.”
Adeline and Alice nodded, thumbing away tears. It was a solemn moment, after confession and forgiveness had cleared the air and wiped the slate clean. But now that the serious talk had taken place, Leah had something to add.
She went up behind the girls and wrapped her arms around their slender shoulders, resting her head between theirs. “We’ve had our ups and downs, girls,” she began in a voice thick with emotion, “but I want you to know how grateful I am that you took a stand for my cattle—for me—this morning. It’s real progress that you got angry for me instead of at me, and I—I love you for it.”
Alice and Adeline clasped her arms. Leah nearly fainted when they kissed her cheeks.
“Well, there’s a picture,” Jude said softly.
The girls chuckled nervously as they released Leah. “Guess we should help you fix dinner,” Adeline said. “After all this excitement, I’m so hungry I could eat a horse.”
Alice smiled wryly as she rose from her chair. “What I want to know,” she said, “is how Dat and Uncle Jeremiah could play such an awesome game of pool! Dex and Phil didn’t stand a chance.”
Leah smiled and went to pour coffee before finishing her biscuits. Jude and Jeremiah were chuckling as they formulated an answer to the question.
“When we were growing up in this house, there was a pool table in the basement,” Jeremiah began. “Our dat bought us a used table when we hit our rumspringa, on the condition that neither of us would learn to drive a car, or buy one and park it somewhere else so he and Mamm wouldn’t know about it.”
“It wasn’t a common thing for an Amish family to own a pool table,” Jude pointed out, “but our dat reasoned that learning how to make accurate shots would keep us boys at home, out of trouble, and it would improve our concentration.”
“And because we weren’t betting any money,” Jeremiah continued, “we considered it a family game the same as Monopoly or Scrabble would be. Truth be told, your Mammi Margaret got to be a pretty gut shot—although she never talked about that with her lady friends.”
Leah’s eyes widened. The image of Margaret Shetler bending over a pool table with a cue stick in her hand was almost more than she could imagine.
“It’s only fair that
