“Am I wrong?” Thomas asked.
“What do I know?” Noah said with a shrug. “I’m not a daet.”
And up until yesterday when he’d heard that his daughter was coming home to him, he hadn’t felt like one, either. But he’d have to catch up, and he’d have to teach Rue their ways. He was just grateful for the family surrounding him that would help him in this new role of father.
“I should tell you, Noah. I talked to our mamm yesterday,” Thomas said, and his brother turned to look at him, his gaze suddenly guarded.
“When?” Noah asked.
“At the government office. She was the one who helped them find me.”
Their mother, Rachel Wiebe, had looked so different dressed in a sleeveless Englisher dress and wearing a few pieces of jewelry. Her hair was dyed—the gray that had started to creep into it was now gone. She didn’t look like a mamm. She looked... English.
“How is she?” Noah asked.
“She’s healthy and happy.” He’d wanted to see her miserable—realizing her mistake. But that hadn’t been the case. “She wants to get to know Rue.”
Noah sighed and turned back to the sink. Their mamm had left the community and gone English after their father’s death.
“Rue is an Englisher child,” Thomas added. “And our mamm is her real Mammi, you know.”
“Rue is your child,” Noah said curtly. “And if you want to raise her right, you’ll raise her Amish.”
Raising Rue Amish meant keeping her from Englisher influences. Did that include her grandmother?
“Obviously, I’ll raise her Amish,” Thomas said. “But Mamm also said she wanted to see you—”
“No.”
Thomas eyed his brother. This was an old argument. Mamm came back to visit once every so often, and she sent letters, but Noah remained obstinately reserved. And yet, she was their mamm. She’d been the one to tuck them in, give them hugs and teach them right from wrong. She was their first love—the beautiful mamm who sang the strange Englisher hymns when there was no one else around to hear. When it rained, Thomas could still hear his mamm’s soft singing. Rock of Ages, cleft for me... Let me hide myself in Thee...
In English.
“She made her choice,” Noah said, his voice thick. “She could have stayed for us!”
Thomas didn’t answer that. He understood his brother’s anger, because he felt it, too. When he was fourteen and Noah was fifteen, she’d given them the choice to leave with her, or stay without her. What kind of choice was that? She’d been their mamm, and one day she’d told them that that she couldn’t continue this way, and their entire world had been thrown upside down. So Thomas could understand the anger in his daughter, because he carried around a fair amount of anger, too. He’d been trying to sort through it during his wild Rumspringa.
There was movement at the top of the stairs, and Mammi and Rue came back down.
Rue was dressed in a nightgown that showed a cartoon princess on the front, and it had little frilly ruffles around the arms. He glanced at his brother—their conversation would have to wait.
“Tell our schoolteacher that she will need a proper nightgown, too,” Mammi said.
“Very good,” Thomas said, smiling at Rue. “Now, I will sit in the rocking chair, and you will sit on my lap. I will tell you stories, and when your eyes get heavy, you must promise to let them close. Is that a deal?”
“You want to trick me into sleeping,” Rue said.
“Yes.” He met her young gaze. “That is exactly what I intend to do. With stories.”
Rue regarded him for a moment, and she seemed to be deciding what she thought of him. Then she sighed.
“Okay,” she whispered. “But I want stories.”
Thomas smiled and scooped her up in his arms, then strode into the sitting room. Behind him, he could hear Mammi chiding Noah for having done most of the dishes.
Thomas was a daet now. And he had story after story saved up inside him, all meant for his own children one day. These were the stories that formed Amish children—Bible stories, family tales, stories of warning about people they used to know who took a wrong turn and lived to regret it. And tonight, Rue would have her first story.
Thomas settled himself into the rocking chair and Rue curled up her legs and leaned her head against his chest. She smelled of the soap Mammi had used to wash her face and hands, and he gingerly smoothed a hand over her flaxen hair.
“Are we ready, then?” he asked.
Rue nodded mutely.
“Tonight, I will tell you a story about the very first man and woman to live in this world. It was a very, very long time ago, in the days of In the beginning. So long ago, that no one remembers just what this first man and woman looked like...”
He would tell her the story of a snake in a garden, and a very tempting piece of fruit that had been forbidden to the inhabitants. That piece of fruit still hung before all the Amish community, just out of reach, just over the fence... And Thomas’s own mamm had chosen the fruit.
The next morning, Patience dried the last plate from the breakfast dishes and put it into the cupboard. Cheerful sunlight splashed through the kitchen window and over the freshly wiped counters. Outside, she could hear the robins’ songs, and she felt a certain excitement inside her that she hadn’t experienced in quite some time. It was more than having a job to look forward to, though. And teaching school was definitely something new... But there had been something about Thomas and little Rue that had piqued her interest.
“A child needs a woman’s touch,” Hannah Kauffman said as she wiped the table. “You’re kind to help him.”
“The poor thing,” Patience said. “This will be a hard adjustment for her.”
“Hmm.” Hannah straightened. “And for him. Mary and Amos raised him after his daet died and his
