The Fiddler Read Online Free PDF Page A

main road.
    A flat tire . . . tonight?
    Moaning, she leaned her head on the steering wheel, heart pounding. She had an emergency spare tucked in the base of her trunk, but even if she could change the tire in this storm, she didn’t trust the small spare on the flooded roads. And the rain? By the sound of it, the violent weather was here for the night.
    She sat there, surrounded by the darkly sinister woods and the rain. What would Dad say to do? “ Why not practice, Amelia? ” he might suggest if he were here. Not one to squander a single moment, she thought.
    Despite her situation, she chuckled wryly at the thought of practicing in the middle of a downpour. She turned to look over her shoulder at her fiddle and overnight bag, the pitch-blackness closing in. There was no room to play her violin in the car!
    The road behind her cut through the forest, and yet she had not seen a single house light. “Dear God,” she whispered. “I’m seriously lost. Please help me find my way back home.”
    Amelia picked up her phone. No coverage.
    What did I expect?
    If she got out and tried to walk for help—but where?—she might be blown away . . . certainly soaked to the skin in a matter of seconds. But getting wet wasn’t her biggest concern. She was alone in the middle of nowhere and feeling increasingly more frantic.
    The constant beat of rain on her car drowned out any hope of hearing the radio, so Amelia turned it off, not wanting to wear down the battery.
    Still trembling, Amelia reached for the iPod in her purse, choosing a recording of her own performance of Prelude no. 5 by Rachmaninov. Nice and slow , she thought, hoping the lovely melody might soothe her . . . somehow.

     
    Lillianne Hostetler glanced at the day clock hanging high over the sink in Ella Mae Zook’s cozy kitchen. “Ach, yuscht look at the time,” she said, sitting with her cup of peppermint tea at the small table. “I best be goin’.”
    Ella Mae waved her hand, blue eyes shining. “Stay as long as ya like, Lily. Goodness knows, you need a breather ev’ry now and then.”
    White-haired Ella Mae wasn’t known as Hickory Hollow’s Wise Woman for nothing. Lillianne tugged on her apron, looking down at her still half-full teacup. “How do ya get your tea to taste so gut ?”
    “It’s all in the steeping. Three minutes and no longer . . . and raw honey from over yonder.” Ella Mae motioned toward the bishop’s farm.
    “I’ll remember that.”
    Ella Mae reached across the table and placed her gnarled hand on Lillianne’s wrist. “Remember something else, too, won’t ya, dear?”
    Lillianne half expected this. She knew her neighbor and good friend well enough to realize the Wise Woman couldn’t just let her get up and leave without one final bit of insight.
    “Your son ain’t punishing you and Paul by up and leavin’.”
    Lillianne nodded her head. She knew. Oh, she knew.
    “And something else.” Ella Mae’s eyes were moist in the corners. “Your boy loves ya, he does.”
    “Well, he took his clothes along . . . and plenty of food, too. So how’s that figure?”
    Ella Mae smiled, showing her dimples. “But you offered the food, didn’t ya?”
    She had indeed. “ Jah .” Lillianne’s lip quivered. “Honestly, I couldn’t have Michael goin’ hungry, could I? What sort of mother—”
    “You’re a wunnerbaar-gut Mamma , and don’t ya forget.”
    Lillianne swallowed, refusing to cry. “Do you think he’ll ever come back home? Oh, Ella Mae . . . will he?”
    “The Lord knows all ’bout that.” Ella Mae’s little head bobbed up and down. “And I daresay Michael will know soon enough, too.”
    “I just pray his heart’s not too awful pained. His father can be harsh at times—still blames him for Elizabeth’s leavin’, ya know.”
    “Well, prayin’s the best thing for any problem, even for your granddaughter. Mighty powerful, ’tis.”
    Lillianne agreed. “Guess I just needed to ramble some, is