Almost Eden Read Online Free PDF Page A

we got her into a baggy T-shirt that hung down to her knees.
    “Supper’s ready. C’mon.” I gathered our wet towels and bathing suits to hang up outside.
    “Sorry you got in trouble.” Lena held her arms out from her sides and shuffled out of the room, trying not to bend her elbows or knees, wincing with every step.
    She actually looked pretty funny, but I knew it wouldn’t be too smart to laugh. “And I’m sorry you got so burned,” I sighed.
    “Not to worry. Everyone makes mistakes. How else do we learn?” Auntie Nettie squeezed my shoulders. “Come. You’ll feel better after you eat.”
    Even with more Noxzema before bedtime, Lena whimpered most of the night.
    She wasn’t the only one I’d forgotten about either. I’d hardly thought about Mom the whole afternoon. What kind of daughter was I, anyways?

    Dear God
,
    I didn’t mean to forget about Lena today. I was just having fun. Then that
glommskopp
Mark Giesbrecht…well, you know what happened. I’m sorry, and I’m sorry about lying to Jillian and for feeling jealous because Pete likes her and Aaron doesn’t even know I’m alive. I’m not sorry for thinking Mark is a moron because he is, but I’ll try to stop hating him. Maybe you could help me figure out a way to get him to stop bugging me so much all the time
.
    I’m a little bit sorry about mouthing off to Dad, but he should be sorry too, for yelling at me. How come he has to be so grouchy all the time
?
    I don’t understand about Mom. I know she was upset and everything, over all the fuss I made about the pajama party. But I don’t understand how someone can get so sad they have to go to a hospital. I don’t understand why you let her get sick again. You must have a reason. Maybe this is a test, like the one you gave Jonah when he was swallowed by the whale. I’ll try hard to have faith in you. I promise to do what Dad and Beth say, and help out around the house and take care of Lena and everything. I promise to try my hardest, only please, make Mom better.
    And if you don’t mind, please hurry. It’s summer.
    Amen.

A t church the next morning, Reverend Funk called out the names of all the sick people. He called out my mom’s name, too, Esther Redekop, and asked the congregation to pray for her. So then everyone knew.
Nah yo.
So it goes always, not?
    When Lena and I walked in the door, Dad was already on the phone. “No. We’re managing pretty well, thank you. The girls are all pitching in.” He rolled his eyes at us. “Yes, thank you, Mrs. Koehler. Bye now.”
    Dad groaned. “Just what I need. The whole church traipsing down here to stick their noses in our business.”
    “You should be happy so many people will be praying for Mom.” Beth tied an apron around her waist and went to stir the pot she’d left simmering on the stove.
    Now seemed like a good time to change the subject. “I’m hungry, what’s for dinner?” I tried peeking into the pot.
    Beth shooed me away. “Children’s questions sprinkled with sugar,” she said, all sweet and sappy. Like she was trying to sound like Mom, using one of her lines and everything.
    “Don’t even bother,” I said.
    Beth started to snap back at me and then she bit her tongue. She looked a little hurt maybe, but what was she trying to prove anyways?
    By the time we sat down to eat, I really, truly was starving. Auntie Nettie had brought
summaborscht
for supper last night.
Fuy
and double
fuy.
I’d barely touched mine, filling up on fresh brown bread instead. Only thing was, man could not live by bread alone, even if it was homemade. And instead of pancakes this morning, all we got was cereal. A bowl of cereal wasn’t enough to get a person through one of Reverend Funk’s sermons.
    This morning he’d talked about Daniel, and how Daniel had spent twenty-one days praying in order to come to know the will of God. He didn’t eat any bread or meat, or drink any wine the whole time. At the end of twenty-one days, God appeared to