Summer of Secrets Read Online Free PDF

understand why Tiffany’s reappearance was a blessing rather than a bad omen, but right now Rachel was too rattled to hear his reassurances.
    Micah held her close, inhaling her clean scent. “I’ve got a busy day, what with raisin’ a barn over at Jim Kanagy’s in New Haven tomorrow—and you’ll be on your feet all day at the Sweet Seasons,” he reminded her. “How about I take ya home now and see ya over breakfast ... like I dream of doin’ when you’ll serve it up in our home every mornin’, just for me?”
    Rachel sighed softly and lowered her eyes then. “Are ya sayin’ we’ll have a place for just us two? What with Mamma bein’ alone, I feel responsible for—”
    “She’d never expect ya to put your happiness on hold until she finds her own, honey-girl.”
    “—and Rhoda! Like a butterfly flittin’ from beau to beau, with no place to land. Can ya see those two makin’ it from one day to the next without me to keep them on the steady path?” Rachel laughed softly as she shook her head. “With all those rooms upstairs, might be easier for you to just move in with—”
    “With all you biddy hens?” Micah teased. He could do worse than take up residence with Rhoda and Miriam Lantz, but it wasn’t his sweetest dream. “I’ve got better ideas for us, Rache. Can ya trust me on this and be patient awhile longer?”
    Like a deflating balloon she let out her breath. Weariness replaced the excitement he’d seen just moments ago: Was she tired of his talk? He’d been courting her for a long time, compared to most couples they knew. “It’s been a ... tirin’ day, jah ,” she murmured. “Best take me back, I s’pose. She won’t admit to it, but Mamma doesn’t sleep until Rhoda and I are both home.”
    “Wants all her sheep in the pen. Just like you and I will someday.”
    They rode in silence along the main county road that led to the Lantz land. Just past the café and quilt shop they turned off, to head down the long unpaved lane that led to the tall house, glowing white in the moonlight. Odd that a light burned in the Sweet Seasons kitchen at this hour.
    Past Jesse’s vacant smithy and forge they rode in silence. . . alongside the large, flat garden where sweet corn stood in rows like sentinels with tassled hats. On the other side of the lane, melon vines wound around the dark, shiny fruits that burst with red sweetness at the touch of a sharp knife. All was orderly and tidy, like Miriam Lantz herself. Micah steered Rosie in a circle when they came near the porch.
    He hopped down, helped Rachel to the ground, and dared to kiss her full on the mouth even though her mother or sister might be peering out from behind the curtains. She tasted faintly of cake and root beer and all those homey pleasures he planned to share with her for years to come, and with her moonlit kapp framing her face, she enticed him with her expectant innocence. Would he live up to the sweet dreams shining in her eyes?
    “G’night now, Rachel,” he whispered. “See ya later, for breakfast.”
    She nodded and slipped out of her shoes, to pad silently up the front porch steps.
     
     
    Miriam kneaded the batch of warm, soft dough into a ball and turned the big crockery bowl over the top of it so it would rise for this morning’s cinnamon rolls. While she still rode this burst of energy, she stirred the butter she’d melted into a big bowl of graham cracker crumbs and began to form shells for those chocolate pies. Rhoda would be happy to stir up the pudding when she arrived, as the cool, thick filling resembled soft fudge when it set up: this was her favorite cream pie, while Rachel preferred butterscotch.
    And what did Rebecca like? Had her mother even made pies or rolls? Hard to believe most fancy folk chose store-bought pastries and breads ... handling dough was therapy to ease troubled souls and tense muscles—not to mention a surefire way to bring the family to the table together. Little of that went on these