Davey's Daughter Read Online Free PDF Page B

thumb as the knife slipped again and cut a nasty slice into the skin. Quickly, she bent and opened the cupboard door, ripped a paper towel off the roll, and wrapped her it around her thumb.
    She wanted to cry. She wanted to bang her fists against the window and chase him away like an unwanted starling at the birdfeeder. Instead she walked calmly to the oak medicine cabinet, got out the box of Band-Aids, and applied one with all the concentration she could muster, avoiding looking out the windows as much as she could.
    Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself and sat down heavily. She knew this was not right. So she bowed her head, the part in her hair perfectly centered, her hair sleekly falling away on each side. Her hair was graying but still retained most of its dark color under her large, snow-white covering with its wide strings falling down her back.
    Her lips moved in prayer as tears hovered between her eyelashes and quivered there before dropping onto the gray fabric of her apron, creating dark splotches while her cheeks remained dry.
    Mam had reached her Waterloo. It was such a maddeningly futile situation, and she knew she must let go, give up her own will, and replace it firmly with God’s will.
    How could her own precious, beloved daughter be so blind when the dashing Matthew was so obviously still in love with the beautiful Rose?
    Or was she, herself, blind to God’s will? She didn’t know, so she gave herself up to God, following the advice handed down from generation to generation, the sound principle of the ages for every Amish wife and mother. You could never go wrong by giving yourself up.
    Mam had just resumed her potato peeling when Sarah bounded into the kesslehaus , yanked open the door to the kitchen, and charged over to Priscilla at the sewing machine.
    “Did you see Matthew?”
    Priscilla looked up.
    “Where was he?”
    “Here. He came to ask me to go to the Christmas singing!”
    “He did? What did you say?” Priscilla ducked her head and giggled as Sarah swatted her shoulder. “You said no, right?”
    But Sarah was already on her way up the stairs, taking two steps at a time before bounding back down.
    “Mam, may I go to Lizzie Zook’s store?”
    “Why?”
    “I have to have a new Christmas dress. I have to.”
    Resigned, Mam turned, her face inscrutable. “Why?”
    “Matthew was here. He asked me to go to the Christmas singing with him. I only have my burgundy dress from last year, or that homely looking dark green. I look sick in that one. Please, Mam?”
    What Mam wanted to say and what she did say were two entirely different things.
    “I suppose you can. How would you go? Surely not Fred and the buggy on a day like this?”
    “Of course!”
    Priscilla was elected to accompany her in spite of Suzie’s protests. Levi came to the rescue and promised her a game of Memory, and Sarah promised her a new book.
    The town of Intercourse was digging itself out of the snowstorm, but as it was only a few days before Christmas, plenty of cars crawled along Route 340. Horses and buggies clopped along the roadside. Pedestrians hurried along swept sidewalks and ducked into shops to frantically looking for last-minute gifts. Trucks carrying fuel oil or tanks of milk geared down for the red light at Susquehanna Bank as the girls neared their destination — the fabric shop in the heart of the village.
    Bolts of fabric stood upright along low shelves, an endless display of colors and patterns making it difficult to choose. Sarah remained indecisive till Priscilla began tapping the toe of her boot and looking at the ceiling, accompanied by a hum that grated on Sarah’s nerves. Her sister’s impatience distracted Sarah and scattered her resolve to settle for the red that was not as pretty as a more brilliant shade — one that would be completely unacceptable to Mam.
    Mam was so strict, Sarah thought. She never changed with the times. Well, not never. But not very often.
    “Priscilla!” she