Plain Jayne Read Online Free PDF Page A

asked.
    â€œIt seems like such a difficult lifestyle. The rest of America is so driven by technology and information that the fact the Amish aren’t in school after eighth grade astounds me.”
    â€œTechnology and the Amish aren’t necessarily mutually exclusive.”
    â€œNo?”
    He checked his watch. “I know an Amish family in the community outside town. They’ll serve lunch soon, and I’m sure we could invite ourselves over.”
    â€œReally?”
    â€œYou can observe firsthand.”
    â€œMy goal is to spend some time in an Amish household,” I admitted. “In fact, I’m waiting to hear back from one of the columnists I know from the paper. She promised to look into that for me.”
    Again, the face I couldn’t read. “I may be able to help you with that,” he answered after a moment. “But lunch first. If you walk with me back to the shop, we can take my truck.”
    I hesitated. Driving to a place I’d never been with a man I didn’t know to a location with spotty cell phone reception did not rank high on the list of good ideas.
    â€œOr you can follow on your bike,” he added. “I have four younger sisters. I wouldn’t want any of them riding with strange men.”
    That was the thing; Levi wasn’t strange. There was something about him that was completely trustworthy.
    And I had pepper spray in my bag. Just in case.

    I watched the landscape change as we drove by. Once we were out of town, we passed neighborhoods with houses perforated by a dozen wires. Satellite dishes served as lawn ornaments.
    I hated small towns.
    And I grew up in one, so I was allowed to say so with experience.
    After a while, the neighborhoods thinned out and cattle ruled the open spaces. A few sheep.
    I remembered my earlier conversation with Joely. “Do Amish kids cow tip?”
    Levi laughed, an easy laugh that made me remind myself I had a boyfriend. “None of the kids I knew did—they were busy dating. Can’t say about some of the Pennsylvania kids.”
    Twenty minutes later occasional clusters of homes came into view. They sat in a small valley, homes surrounded by pastures and farmland. There were no wires, but if I wasn’t mistaken, a sprinkling of wind-power generators.
    Interesting.
    It started to rain as Levi turned the truck down a long gravel road. A large white farmhouse sat at the end, with a barnlike building on either side for moral support. A woman hurriedly removed several pairs of pants from the laundry line as the raindrops grew larger. Levi raised a hand in greeting.
    She waved back, yanking the last pair of trousers off and carrying the basket inside. By the time we made it to the covered porch, she was waiting for us at the door.
    â€œLevi!” she said, standing on her tiptoes to cup his face and kiss his cheek. “What are you doing here?”
    â€œDo you have extra for lunch?”
    â€œI always have extra for lunch,” she answered, her eyes on me.
    â€œThis is Jayne Tate. Jayne, this is Martha.”
    Martha looked from me to Levi, her eyes searching but guarded. “You are welcome in our home.”
    I tried not to stare. She was dressed as I’d seen Amish women in photos—a long dark blue dress, black apron, and white kapp. Her feet were encased in black, lace-up shoes. Dark, itchy-looking stockings covered the visible part of her legs.
    A small storm of footfalls thundered from the upper floor, and two little girls, an almost adolescent boy, and a teen girl descended the stairs. The youngest girls squealed Levi’s name and ran for his legs. He hugged them both, calling them by name. The older two followed at a more dignified pace. That they knew him well was obvious.
    â€œJayne,” Levi said, continuing the introductions. “This is Sara—” he started with the teenager, “Samuel, Leah, and,” he picked up the littlest girl, “this is the