you in the middle of the road or wherever it was she found you.”
“Young lady! We do not talk that way in this house!” The voice was Marta’s, shouting from the top of the staircase.
“I was just kidding.” Ella sounded as though she were eight.
“Come up here right now.”
Zed watched Ella retreat and then his gaze fell on me. “I was adopted,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Really?” I never would have guessed. He and Ella looked as much alike as any siblings. She had auburn hair and his was blond, but they both had a slight build and wiry limbs.
“Really.”
“Me too,” I told him, nearly tripping over the words. “I was adopted too.”
His eyes glued to the screen, he merely nodded in reply.
“Does Ella talk like that often?”
He shook his head. “She didn’t mean anything.”
I stepped into the dining room. He was instant messaging. “I have a laptop,” I said. “Any chance I could get online here?”
“We don’t have wireless. Sorry.”
I shrugged. “Just thought I’d ask.” I’d be gone before long anyway.
Ella clomped down the stairs and spun around into the archway, her forefinger and thumb at her forehead again. “I’m grounded from the computer, so now I can’t do my homework at all.” Zed ignored her, and she took a few steps back and grabbed her coat. “I’m going for a walk.”
The front door banged and she was gone.
I stepped back into the archway and looked toward the stairs. “What has your mom been doing all afternoon?” I should give her a report about the women.
Zed still didn’t look up from the screen as he said, “Making phone calls in her room. She said not to disturb her.”
“Oh.” I turned toward the window. Ella stood under the stand of pine trees. “I think I’ll go for a walk too,” I said, grabbing my jacket. I’d give Marta an update in a little while.
As the front door closed behind me, Ella turned and scowled. She had a cell phone in her hand and was texting. “Mind if I join you?” I asked.
She shrugged, flipping the phone shut and putting it in her apron pocket.
“Are you really going on a walk?” I asked.
She shrugged again.
“I’d love a closer look at the covered bridge.”
She took off, the ties of her bonnet blowing over her shoulder, and her open wool coat flapping with each step. I hurried to catch up with her, trying to come up with a couple of questions to get her talking.
I wasn’t successful with a conversation starter and defaulted to asking her about school. “What grade are you in?”
“Tenth.”
“Is the school close by?”
She shook her head. I was matching her stride for stride now, thanks to my long legs, along the shoulder of the roadway.
“It’s about a fifteen-minute bus ride.”
“And it’s public, right?” I asked as we dashed across the highway.
She nodded.
“Are there other Mennonites there?”
“Some,” she answered.
I wondered if she felt as conspicuous in her Mennonite garb as I had when I was her age. Today she wore a blue print dress with a pointy collar and cuffs at the end of the sleeves. It was modest and obviously homemade.
“Do you like to sew?” I asked.
She shrugged again. “It’s not my favorite thing.”
“Your clothes—your mom and Zed’s too. Are they hand sewn?” I couldn’t tell if Marta’s dresses were manufactured or not. They had buttons, and her cape was definitely store bought or else made by a good tailor.
Ella laughed. “No. We buy ready-made when we can. I sewed this for my 4-H class.” She tugged on the skirt of her dress. “Some of the women in our church sew, but we don’t have time. Not with Mom’s work and school and keeping up the place. It’s not like there are a lot of rules or anything. Not at the church we go to.”
An Amish buggy passed by on the other side of the road. The man driving it gave a little wave and Ella acknowledged him, but I couldn’t tell whether she actually knew him or not. We walked in silence for a few minutes, and then I asked, softly, “How old was Zed when he was adopted?”
“I shouldn’t have said that.” Ella pursed her lips together. She was practically marching now.
I kept my mouth shut. The road dipped down a little, and I could see the covered bridge in the distance. I took my camera from my pocket and zoomed in, snapping a photo.
“He was a baby. I was almost three. I remember when Mom brought him home.