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rides to the Amish in their community for a minimal fee. She’d even driven to Tulsa to fetch Sarah the time she’d been in the hospital there.
    â€œ Mamm —”
    Deborah turned on Sarah with the ferocity of an Oklahoma twister, and Sarah realized in that moment of complete honesty that her mother had been wearing a mask since her father’s death. Perhaps since long before that. Gone was the blank stare. Instead, what she saw now was confusion and anger and, under that, determination.
    â€œYou are going to have to handle this. I cannot be here…cannot be here one more minute. Do you understand?”
    Her eyes searched Sarah’s. There was no tenderness in her expression—only desperation.
    Before Sarah could respond, before she could even process what had just happened, her mother was out the door, down the steps, and climbing into the waiting van. Sarah ran outside, but Amelia was already driving away, and she was taking Sarah’s mother with her.
    She had to do something. She had to stop her. She had to at least try.
    Sarah went back inside to grab her coat and purse. She ran back out the front door but then stopped when she remembered the pot of soup she’d left on the stove. She went back into the house and turned off the burner. Hurrying across the yard, she prayed that the tractor would start. She skidded to a stop when she entered the barn.
    Andy had been working on the tractor because it kept stalling. What had he said last night?
    Still waiting on a part .
    Apparently he’d taken the engine apart to find out what was wrong, or Henry had—he was the mechanic of the family. The pieces were placed carefully across his workbench, and the tractor…well, the tractor wasn’t going anywhere.
    She’d walk.
    Maybe someone would pick her up and offer her a ride to town.
    She hurried down the lane, not even bothering to skirt the puddles of melting snow. The water splashed up and stained the hem of her dress, and her toes began to grow cold. Still she hurried on, her mother’s words churning round and round in her mind.
    To my cousin’s, in Florida.
    You don’t need me.
    You are going to have to handle this.
    Was that what she’d been doing all these months? Planning her escape? What kind of mother left her fatherless children? What kind of person could do that?
    She didn’t realize she was crying until Andy stopped the buggy, jumped out, and ran up to her. He shook her by the shoulders, asked her something, and took off his coat to drape over her own thin one.
    Slowly her presence of mind returned.
    When it did, she looked up at her brother, wondering how she could cushion this latest turn of events. Finally, she settled for the truth and simply said, “She’s gone.”

CHAPTER 8
    P aul had stopped by the feed store, which was located next to the bus pick-up and drop-off point. He glanced up to see Deborah Yoder stepping out of an Englisch van. There was no question that she was Sarah’s mother—she was an older, more tired version of her daughter, but otherwise they looked alike.
    Both had blond hair. Though Sarah’s looked quite pretty peeking out of her kapp , Deborah’s looked as if she’d barely had time to braid it with tendrils escaping from every corner.
    Both were rather short. Paul had insisted on helping Sarah carry her goods to her buggy when she’d returned to buy more. He guessed she was no more than five feet two.
    Both were slight. In Paul’s family, the women were rather rounded—Plain food and a contented life could do that to a person. But Deborah and Sarah had a gaunt look to them.
    Mother and daughter had a small, perky nose. Sarah had a sprinkling of freckles across hers.
    Deborah hurried past him without a word, stepped up to the ticket window that fronted the street, and purchased a ticket for Florida. He wasn’t eavesdropping, but he heard the ticket seller loudly say, “The