The Rebel Read Online Free PDF Page A

reached her grandmother’s place after work. She stopped often to visit with Grossmammi, who now lived in the grandparent house attached to the farmhouse of her eldest son, Barbie’s uncle, the father of her dear cousin Rebecca. Today she might have skipped the visit, afraid her grandmother’s sharp eyes would pick up her bad mood, but Grossmammi particularly wanted to see her.
    She drew up to the hitching post at the end of the farm lane, waving to Rebecca’s two children as they came running from the barn. Rebecca and her family lived on the adjoining farm, and her kinder were here nearly as much as they were at home. With the warming weather, Rebecca would soon be opening the farm-stay she ran for folks who wanted to enjoy a weekend in the country and see what Amish farm life was really like.
    Last season, Barbie had been Rebecca’s trusted partner as she’d gotten the business going, but Rebecca had remarried inthe fall, and Barbie wasn’t sure how that might affect her work. They ought to talk soon. She’d have to figure out how to juggle helping Rebecca with her job at the café.
    Going to the side door that led directly to the grossdaadi haus, Barbie tapped once and walked in. “Grossmammi? It’s Barbie.”
    â€œIn the kitchen.” As always, her grandmother sounded delighted at her visit. Grossmammi managed to make each of her many grandchildren feel as if he or she was the most loved person in the world when they were together.
    â€œDon’t get up.” Barbie hurried to hug her grandmother, sitting in her favorite rocking chair near the stove. “If you need something, I’ll get it for you.”
    Grossmammi’s arms tightened around her, and love seemed to envelop her. “Ach, you young ones fuss too much. I can get up and get you some cookies and a cup of tea, ain’t so?”
    â€œYou can, but let me do it instead. It keeps me in practice for my job.” And indeed, the teacups and cookies were already set out on a tray and the kettle was steaming gently on the stove. All that remained was to fill the teapot and carry the tray to the small table next to her grandmother’s chair.
    â€œThere, now.” She pulled one of the chairs over from the table and settled herself. “This is wonderful nice. I’m sehr glad to relax with you.”
    She glanced around the kitchen as Grossmammi poured out. It was smaller than the kitchen in the old farmhouse where Grossmammi had spent most of her married life, but Barbie’s onkels and her daad had done a fine job of building a new, convenient home for her.
    The cookies were freshly baked peanut butter ones, theiraroma filling the room, and seeds were sprouting in pots on the windowsills. Grossmammi always had to have her flowers and herbs, no matter where she was.
    Did she still miss the old farmhouse, with all its reminders of a long marriage? Barbie eyed her grandmother’s wrinkled face, soft as the skin of a peach, the blue eyes still sharp behind her wire-rimmed glasses. The hair pulled back from a center part was as white now as her kapp.
    â€œWhy are you so quiet today, my Barbie?” Grossmammi seemed to be studying her as well. “Usually you’re talking away a mile a minute about all your doings.”
    Barbie’s mind flickered to the most recent example of her “doings,” which she hoped her grandmother would never learn of. And to its unfortunate aftermath. Tension tightened her nerves at the thought of Benuel Kauffmann. Would he keep quiet, or would his rigid conscience eventually get the better of his discretion?
    She shrugged, realizing her grandmother was still waiting for an answer. “I guess I’m a little tired today.”
    Grossmammi studied her face so intently she might be looking right into Barbie’s inner thoughts, and Barbie felt her cheeks grow warm in response.
    â€œSomething is troubling you, I think. Will you tell me