Beside Still Waters Read Online Free PDF

fruit tapioca Mem had brought, and loaves of homemade bread. Ellie's question was clear: When were they going to eat?
    Marianna had heard talk like this before. Sometimes at the small Amish store or other times in their sewing circles. But during those times the ladies had been talking about other people. Now they spoke of someone she didn't know well but felt she ought to defend.
    It was as if a dozen sewing needles pierced her heart as she heard the woman's laughter again and realized it was at her uncle's expense. She made a small plate of food for Ellie and sat her next to Mrs. Ropp and Helen.
    "Is it okay if Ellie eats next to you?"
    Mrs. Ropp burped her baby at her shoulder. "Yes, of course. Find yourself something to eat and take a break from the young ones for a spell."
    "Denke." But despite her word of thanks, Marianna didn't feel like eating. She lowered her head and hurried in the direction of the sandbox, where the children would be returning after lunch. Sometimes the children disagreed, not wanting to share or to play nicely. Sometimes they called each other names, but they hadn't yet learned to pierce each other with carefully calculated words. Children were learning, adults should know better.
    She wove through the bodies of men rising to get back to work and women cleaning off the tables, refolding picnic blankets, gathering plates. The sun grew warmer, and she fanned her face.
    "There you are."
    Marianna felt a hand on her arm and turned to find Aaron standing there. It was the second time he'd snuck up on her.
    "I've been looking for you." He ran a hand down his cheek and it was then she noticed the slightest amount of blond hair on his jaw line. Her mouth dropped open, and her eyes widened. Aaron must have noticed her recognition, and he pressed his lips into a tight smile. Amish men didn't wear a beard until they were married, and yet some young men started "practicing" before—growing out a shadow of facial hair as they got closer to the transition in their lives.
    "You've been looking for me? Do you, uh, need me for something?" She placed a hand to her neck and was surprised to feel the beating of her heart under her fingertips.
    "I've been thinking about it, and maybe waiting until fall to go on a date is too long. I was thinking I could drive you home this Sunday. After the youth sing, if you don't mind."
    "No, I mean yes. Yes, you can drive me home, and no I don't mind." Marianna felt a tug on her skirt and looked down to see Ellie clinging to her leg.
    "Essen mit mir?"
    Marianna should have known the little girl wouldn't be happy unless she were sitting with her while she ate.
    "Ja, ja." Marianna took her sister's hand.
    "So, I'll see you Sunday then, if not sooner." Aaron straightened his shoulders and then hurried toward the other men heading back to work. She couldn't help but notice an extra skip in his step.
    "Sunday, then." She whispered after him, then gave in to the tugging of her hand and moved back to the lunch table. A new hope bubbled up inside her with each step. Maybe news of this would fix everything. After all, who would take their daughter away from such a promising future? Such a perfect Amish young man.

    Dear Journal,
    I had to start a new notebook today because the other one is full. In between the journal pages are also my letters I've pulled out from the June-Sevenies circle letters. Sometime I'll have to go back and read through them, seeings how so much as changed in the years my friends and I have been writing. We've moved on from talking about our first quilts and how the boys at school were so bothersome, to marrying some of those same boys and setting up house.
    In my last circle letter I spilled the news that Aaron has asked me out on a date. I should be getting the envelope around again. I'm always eager to read what everyone else said, but sometimes it's insightful to read what I wrote the previous month. Things tend to change quickly around here.
    I can't sleep