Katie's Choice(16)

                “Ruth?”

                She didn’t answer, hoping he would just go to sleep. The medications had left her moody and tired, and she wanted nothing more than to be left in peace. Just what did the Lord want from her to fight this awful disease? Why didn’t He just allow her to die with dignity?

                Shame washed over her at the thought.

                Abram touched her shoulder, his hand calloused and warm. “Ruthie?”

                She choked back a sigh at the comfort his touch brought. She was weak and unworthy. Not quite whole and not quite healed. Undeserving.

                “I’m tired, Abram.” She pulled the covers upward, until he relented, retreating back to his side of the bed they shared. Then she silently cried herself to sleep.



                Zane felt a hand on his shoulder and a not-so-gentle nudge.

                “Day’s comin’. Get up. Mach schnell.”

                “Huh? What?” He pried his eyes open, but had to blink to make sure he was seeing everything correctly. John Paul stood over him, a big grin on his face and not looking at all like he’d had less than—Zane checked his watch—five hours of sleep.

                “Guder mariye, sleepy bones. The cows are a’waitin’.”

                Zane resisted the urge to throw the covers back over his head and pretend he wasn’t home. He really thought they’d been joking when they said their day started before the sun. He wasn’t a slacker, but at least he let the sun make an appearance before being forced out of bed.

                “The cows are waiting on what?”

                “Us.” John Paul pulled the covers to the floor, and Zane pushed himself into a sitting position, still wiping the webs of sleep from his brain. He shouldn’t have stayed up so late logging in the countless questions he had for the Fishers. Sometime around midnight he had powered down his computer, dry-swallowed a sleeping pill, and tried to let the day ease away. Considering the foggy state of his brain he should have probably only taken half the tablet, but how was he supposed to know that early meant early? Besides, he couldn’t rest without one. Between the nighttime pain and disturbing dreams of war, medication was his only solution for a restful sleep. Note to self: Go to bed at a decent hour tonight. Morning comes before sunrise to the Amish.

                Zane staggered to his feet, still rubbing his eyes awake. “We have a date with the cows?”

                “Every mornin’. Gotta milk the cows, slop the hogs, feed the chickens and the horses, the cows, goats—”

                “How many animals do you have on this farm?”

                “More’n enough. That’s why you’ll earn your keep while you’re here.”

                “Right.” Zane pulled his suitcase from under the bed and rummaged around for a clean pair of jeans and a T-shirt. Maybe a jacket. Oklahoma wasn’t nearly as chilly as Illinois, but there was a definite nip in the air.

                “Oh, and Dat said to wear these. He said if you were goin’ to live with the Amish, then you are goin’ to look like the Amish.” John Paul pitched a bundle of clothes toward him. Only his quick reflexes kept them from landing on the floor. “Be downstairs for breakfast in five minutes.” He winked and then closed the door behind him, making Zane wonder if he had been to bed at all. Ah, the joys of seventeen.

                With a shake of his head, Zane shook out the clothes and laid them on top of the bed.