The Amish Widow's Secret. Cheryl Williford

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       Chapter One

      It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

      Sarah Nolt couldn’t resist the temptation. Gott would probably punish her for coveting something so fancy. She allowed the tip of her finger to glide across the surface of the sewing machine gleaming in the store’s overhead lights.

      She closed her eyes and imagined stitching her dream quilt. Purple sashing would look perfect with the patch of irises she’d create out of scraps of lavender and blue fabrics and hand stitch to the center of the diagonal-block quilt.

      “Some things are best not longed for,” Marta Nolt whispered close to Sarah’s ear.

      Sarah jumped as if she’d been stung by a wasp. A flush of guilt washed over her from head to toe. “You startled me.” She shot a glance at her lifelong friend and sister-in-law—the two had grown up together and had even married each other’s brothers. Had Marta seen her prideful expression? All her life she’d been taught pride was a sin. She wasn’t convinced it was.

      Compared to Sarah’s five-foot-four frame, Marta appeared as tiny as a twelve-year-old in her dark blue spring dress and finely stitched, stiff white prayer kapp. Marta’s brows furrowed. “It is better I startled you than your daed, Sarah. He’s just outside the door waiting for us. He said to hurry, that he has more important things to do than wait on you this morning. Did you do something to irritate him again? One day he’ll tell the elders what you’ve been up to and—”

      “And they’ll what? Call me in for another scolding and long prayer, and then threaten to tell the Bishop how unruly a widow I am?” Sarah turned for one last look at the gleaming machine and moved away.

      “If they find out about you giving Lukas money, you’ll be shunned. You know they’re looking for someone to blame and wanting to set an example since he ran away with young Ben in tow. Everyone believes they’ve joined the Englisch rescue house. The boys’ father is beyond angry. Nerves have become rattled throughout the community. People are asking who else is planning to leave.”

      “I’m not joining if that’s what you’re thinking. I wasted my time by looking at a sewing machine I can’t ever have. I dream. Nothing more. How can that fine piece of equipment be so full of sin just because it’s electric and fancy? It’s made to produce the finest of quilts.”

      Sarah shoved back a lock of hair and tucked it into her kapp. “Last week an Englisch woman used one of the machines for a sewing demonstration. My heart almost leaped out of my chest, Marta. You should have seen the amazing details it sewed. It would take a year or more for us to make such perfect stitches by hand. Daed needs money for a new field horse. If I had this machine, I could make quilts more quickly and sell them to the Englisch on market day. I could make enough money to keep my farm and eat more than cooked cabbage and my favorite white duck.”

      “All you have to do is ask for help, Sarah. You are so stubborn. The community will—”

      “Rally round? Tell me I must sell Joseph’s farm because a family deserves it more than a helpless widow. Nee, I don’t want their help.”

      “Careful. Someone might hear you.”

      Marta had always tried to accept the community’s harsh rules, but today her words of mindless obedience angered Sarah. “I will not ask for help and will not be silent. Will Gott finally be satisfied if He takes everything dear from me, including my dreams?”

      “Ach, don’t be so bitter. Your anger comes from a place of pain. You need to pray. Ask Gott to remove the ache in your heart.” Marta took her hand and squeezed hard. “Since Joseph died you’ve done nothing but stir up the community’s wrath. You know what your daed’s like. He’ll only take so much before he lets the Bishop come down hard on you. You can’t keep bringing shame on the Yoder name.”

      “I don’t care about my daed’s pride of name. Is his pride not sin too? I am a Nolt now, not a Yoder. I’m a twenty-five-year-old widow. Not a child. I will make my own decisions. You wait and see.”

      “Meine liebe. The suddenness of Joseph’s death brought you to this place of anger and confusion. Don’t grieve him so. His funeral is over, the coffin closed. It was Gott’s will for Joseph to die. We must not ever question, Sarah. Joseph was my older brother, but I’m content to know he’s with the old ones and happy in heaven.”

      Memories of the funeral haunted Sarah’s sleep. “I’m glad you are able to find peace in this rigid community, Marta. I really am. But I can’t. Not since Gott let Joseph die in such a horrible way. To burn to death in a barn fire is too horrible. What kind of Gott lets this happen to a man of faith? This cruel Gott has nee place in my life.” Sarah sighed deeply. Will I ever be happy again and at peace?

      She reached out a trembling hand and grabbed a card of hooks-and-eyes and threw it in the store’s small plastic shopping basket that hung off her wrist. She added several large spools of basic blue, purple and black thread and turned back toward Marta, who stood fingering a skein of baby-soft yarn in the lightest shade of blue. “Do you have something СКАЧАТЬ