“You needed shoes,” Patience said, turning to Rue. “That’s so nice of the girls to share theirs with you.”
“I don’t fit them anymore,” Dinah announced. “They’re too small for me.”
Rue looked at the shoes doubtfully. “I like pink.”
“We wear black shoes in our community,” Susan said.
“I like pink,” Rue repeated. There it was—her stubborn streak that was so problematic.
“There are pink running shoes?” Dinah asked, switching to English, too.
“No,” Bethany replied. “Not for us. That’s what the Englishers wear.”
“I’m not Amish,” Rue said simply. “So I can wear pink shoes.”
The girls exchanged looks, but Dinah’s gaze was fixed on Rue with a look of open curiosity. Ellen was staring, too. Patience could all but see those little gears running for both girls. They were being exposed to a brand-new idea today—that Englishers had things that sounded downright wonderful to a small girl, like pink shoes.
“Rue, say thank you,” Patience said, forcing a smile.
“Thank you,” Rue said quietly.
Yes, she could see the problem here, but if that stubborn spirit could be turned to use her strength of resolve in favor of the Amish life, all would be well.
“Come play outside, Rue,” Dinah said, holding her hand out to the smaller girl. “I’ll show you the chickens.”
Rue smiled at that. “We’ve got a rooster named Toby, and my daddy wants to eat him!”
“Toby will probably be tasty,” Ellen said in a matter-of-fact tone, following the other girls as they clattered outside, leaving Bethany in the kitchen with them. She reached for her baby sister, and Susan handed her over with a smile.
“Dinah’s very interested in Rue’s Englisher stories,” Bethany said, her voice low.
“What kinds of stories?” Susan asked sharply.
“Oh, TVs, their toys, princesses...”
“The Englishers don’t really have princesses,” Patience said. “It’s only a game, and a foolish one, at that. Gott made each of us equal, and we ought not to raise ourselves above each other. It’s wrong and only leads to unhappiness. An honest wife with a kind husband and houseful of kinner is far happier than a princess in a tower somewhere.”
“You’re telling the wrong person,” Bethany said, casting a too-grown-up gaze onto Patience. “It’s Dinah who needs to hear it. And maybe Ellen.”
Patience swallowed. Bad ideas could spread just as quickly as that. It was why the Amish kinner were kept away from the Englishers—kinner were impressionable. Rue was just a little girl, but she was also a child who didn’t want to be Amish, even now. And somehow, Patience felt protective of little Rue...
“Bethany, could you go out and keep an eye on them?” Susan asked.
“Yah, sure, Mamm,” Bethany said, and she headed out the side door, the baby on her hip.
When the door shut behind her, Susan cast Patience a tired smile. “I know she’s just a little girl, and I know you have nothing to do with this... In fact, I feel terrible for you that this is your introduction to our community. But we need to be careful with our girls. I’ll suss up some more clothes for her for winter—I’ve got some warm clothes put away in storage that she can have, and some boots, too. But I can’t have her back here to play with my girls.”
Patience met the woman’s gaze. “She’s very young...”
“So are mine.”
Patience nodded.
“Look, I’m sorry to put you in the middle of this,” Susan said with a shake of her head. “My husband can tell Thomas himself. I just thought I should mention it, all the same.”
Patience looked toward the window where she could see the girls out by a white-painted chicken coop beside which the chickens ran free. Rue had squatted down to be closer to the hens that were pecking at the ground, and Ellen and Dinah stood close by. There was a peal of laughter and Rue looked up, her eyes glittering with delight.
“You haven’t started your pie,” Susan said. “And Patience, you make sure you come back to see me, yourself. It’ll be so fun to have another woman around to chat with...”
But Patience wasn’t listening. Rue would never be Amish enough, Patience realized, her heart sinking. She’d always be the girl with the Englisher mamm, and there’d be no changing people’s knee-jerk reaction to that fact. They had families of their own to protect, kinner they longed to shelter, and Rue was a walking, breathing threat to their careful plans. This was going to break Thomas’s heart.
Chapter Seven
They all left after Thomas was finished helping Ben Smoker with his gate. As the horses made their way back home without much guidance from Thomas, Rue chattered excitedly about her new friends, which only made Patience feel worse for the poor thing. Even Thomas seemed cheerier after the visit—apparently, Ben hadn’t had the chance to fill him in on his wife’s request that Rue stay away from the Smoker girls. When they got back to the house, Mary needed help with the laundry, and Thomas went to work at the carpentry shop, leaving the women to their own work. There was no chance to talk to Thomas alone, not without drawing undue attention to herself, so she needed to wait until the men returned that evening and it was time for her to head back to the Kauffmans’ house.
By dinnertime, a clothesline of laundry fluttered outside—and this time, there were men’s shirts and pants, two of Mammi’s dresses and two tiny dresses lined up next to all the adult clothing.
The men came inside smelling of wood shavings and hard work. Amos was telling a story that made Noah laugh, but Thomas remained silent, his gaze immediately seeking out Patience in the kitchen. There was something about the spontaneity of his attention that warmed her cheeks. Rue spotted her father and gave him a shy smile.
“I have something different for you today,” Thomas said, squatting down. He had something wrapped in a handkerchief, and Patience paused to watch.
“What is it?” Rue asked, coming closer. She pulled aside the cloth and
