The Search The Secrets of Crittenden Cou - By Shelley Shepard Gray Page 0,49
place, ain’t so?”
“Neither of us wants to completely give up our lives. But so far, the compromises don’t seem to be working too well, either.”
Beth smiled. It was nice to have some companionship. She headed to the overflowing sink. “Lydia, you bake and talk, I’ll wash dishes and listen. Sound like a plan?”
“It sounds wunderbaar.”
When Lydia walked over to turn on the oven and started talking a mile a minute, Beth found herself relaxing. Perhaps the inn would continue to run just fine for a little bit longer.
Since the last time she and Abby Anderson had spoken Deborah had thought about having hope and God answering prayers almost constantly. Looking back, she wondered if He had been answering her prayers but she just hadn’t seen things that way.
After all, almost every night she had prayed for Perry’s drug abuse to end. She’d asked for relief for her family, for there to be an ending to the stress his problems had brought both to herself and her parents.
And then he had died.
Had she brought that on? Or was she supposed to be giving thanks that she had gotten an end to the drug abuse and the stress?
It was starting to seem to her that the Lord had put Abby back into her life just to ponder that very subject. When their paths had crossed, Abby had asked if she could walk with her for a bit.
“Why are you looking for a job?” Abby asked when they entered Mary King Yoder’s restaurant for another much-needed afternoon snack.
Deborah paused. “Pardon me?”
Abby had the grace to blush. “I’m sorry. I guess that didn’t come out right. What I meant was that I thought Amish women didn’t work outside of their home. I thought they stayed home and took care of their house.”
As they stopped in front of the hostess’s station, Abby bit her lip. “Don’t you want to stay home and take care of things? It sounds like a great way to spend your days.”
Deborah couldn’t help it, she laughed. From the moment she’d met Abby on the sidewalk, the younger woman had been peppering her with one question after another.
They were as varied as could be, too. Sometimes Abby asked about prayers and church services. Other times, the questions seemed almost peculiar. But no matter what, Deborah was learning that Abby was certainly not shy about asking for information!
To buy herself some time, she murmured, “Abby, you are an Amish student, that’s for sure.”
“And?”
Deborah waited until the hostess greeted them, grabbed two menus, and started walking them to their table. “And I’m not so sure that you need to know everything there is to know about me. Not all at once, at least.”
“I’m not trying to pry.”
This time she couldn’t hide her amusement. “Sure you are.”
“I’m sorry.” Abby’s cheeks flushed as they were walked to their table. “I didn’t realize you had so many secrets.”
“I don’t. Not really.” Had things always been like this? she wondered. Had she always been afraid of someone getting too close or asking something too personal?
Or had it only been since Perry started doing things she was ashamed of?
“We all have secrets of one sort or another, Abby. Don’t you think?”
“I suppose.” But there was something in Abby’s eyes that betrayed pure pain.
Making Deborah remember that there was a whole lot more to Abby than just what most people saw. She wasn’t just a pretty English teenager about to finish high school. No, instead she was a girl struggling to find her place in the world after going through a very troubling circumstance.
“I don’t know if I have all that many secrets,” she said slowly, “but I do know that every person is different whether they are Amish or English. We all have our own likes and dislikes.”
“Deborah, all I asked was why you didn’t want to stay home and take care of things. If you didn’t want to tell me, you could have just said that.”
Deborah chided herself as she picked up the menu and studied it. Abby was exactly right. The question hadn’t been all that prying. It had only been her reaction to it that had made it feel that way.
But that said, there was a limit to how much she wanted to talk about herself. “What looks good to you, Abby?”
She sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t see much low-calorie food here.”
Deborah smiled. Most Amish women she knew kept busy lives, with a lot of labor around the house. There was no need for