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and the gardening. The bigger I grew, the easier the cleaning and laundry and sewing became too. But the boys still had more fun, always together, horsing around in the pasture, racing the buggies, and throwing each other into the pond. I worked mostly alone unless I was quilting with Aenti Nell. I enjoyed her company, but most ofour conversation centered on relatives and neighbors, while I longed to talk about ideas and feelings.
    It wasn’t as if I saw the boys and Daed discussing anything important though. Sure, they talked about their work, but their conversations tended to be about which boy did which stupid thing out in the field.
    I wanted a Mann , a husband who would listen to me and talk with me about things that mattered. Who would include me in his plans. I wasn’t sure if Phillip Eicher was that man, but perhaps I hadn’t given him enough of a chance.
    Timothy pulled out to pass a pickup and then stepped on the accelerator as an SUV sped toward us. It was big and black and barreled down the road. I braced my feet against the floor and took a deep breath, terrified it might be my last.
    Timothy yanked the car back into his lane at the last second. An overwhelming sense of helplessness spread through me. I’d just been dependent on Timothy, someone I didn’t trust, for my very existence.
    As my fear subsided, the helpless feeling transformed into a sense of hollowness.
    Whom could I trust?

    Ten minutes later and nearly home, in a shaky voice I managed to say, “I’m not going to ride with you anymore. I’m going to tell Mutter no from now on.”
    â€œWhat are you talking about?” He stared straight ahead.
    â€œThat near accident.”
    â€œAch, that was nothing.” He scowled toward me. “You need to get over yourself. Life is more than just about what you want. It helps the family for me to give you rides.”
    I didn’t respond. Life had never been about what I wanted.I wasn’t pitying myself—it was simply the truth. And the Amish way. We were taught from the time we were little children that we’re not the center of the world. But somehow Timothy hadn’t gotten the message.
    He turned down our lane, speeding along too fast but slowed as he neared our Haus and pulled along the far side of the cow barn, where Daed allowed him to park his car. Billy and Joe-Joe came running toward me, shouting my name as I climbed from the seat, pulling my dress from the back of my sweaty legs.
    Both boys had mud streaked across their faces like war paint. Joe-Joe held a tabby kitten with both his hands, while Billy held a calico in each of his. Billy stumbled over a rock but caught himself before he fell. The cats squirmed in his hands, and he held on tighter.
    I grabbed my basket from the back and started toward the boys.
    â€œGo put the kittens back,” I said. “They need their Mamms.”
    Joe-Joe frowned.
    â€œAnd then come in the house for some lemonade. It’s so hot—you probably need a drink, jah?” I added.
    He smiled at that and followed Billy toward the barn.
    As I rounded the corner, Mutter called out for me from the back steps.
    Then Daed stepped out of the cow corral. At six and a half feet he was a near giant of a man, solid through and through. A fringe of gray hair showed under his hat and his matching beard flowed down his chest to his belly. “You’re late,” he said to Timothy. “Come finish the milking.” Then he called out to Billy. “Get back in there and help Danny.”
    In no time, the little boys hustled back from returningthe kittens, and Joe-Joe took my hand, pulling me toward the Haus as Billy obeyed Daed and skipped off to the barn.
    â€œSure you don’t want to go with me later?” Timothy called out to me.
    I ignored him.
    â€œWhere you going?” Daed asked Timothy as he reached the barn door.
    â€œOut,” Timothy answered. “Later.”
    I pulled away