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hers, as if seeking confirmation that she hadn’t yet lost her mind. In his own quiet way, he looked far sadder than Skylar.
    What could she say?
Sorry, bio dad, my dad’s gain is your loss?
She knew that Nicholas had been more than happy to learn that Skylar wasn’t his, and he hadn’t wasted any time threatening this Amish community in order to convince Ariana to leave with him and Mom. What were the odds that Skylar was switched at birth and that she had three sets of parents—Mom and Stepdad Gabe, Dad and Stepmom Lynn, and now her very Amish birth mom and dad—and none of them liked her? Her mom loved her, and no mom had worked harder to support her child’s dreams, but Skylar wasn’t at all sure her mom liked her, not really.
    Mark and John, two of her brothers, came into the room chuckling about something. She couldn’t imagine anything being amusing when they got up around four to start the milking. Besides that, the milking barn stank, and from her few days here, it seemed that cows were particularly stupid animals.
    Abram eased into the room behind the other men, but unlike their birth dad, he seemed determined not to look her way. Some twin he was. He wanted less to do with her than anyone else in this home.
    The next few minutes were chaotic as the men washed up and the women set plates of steaming food on the table. After everyone was seated, they bowed their heads, and there was a long pause as they prayed silently. Just as she’d done during every mealtime prayer, she watched each face. Did they really believe that God existed and, if so, that He actually heard their prayers? That was just crazy.
    When her birth dad shifted, making some of the flatware jingle even before he removed his napkin, everyone opened their eyes and lifted their heads. Synchronized swimmers had nothing on these people. Isaac glanced at her birth mom. “So, Skylar, have you made your decision yet?”
    “Decision?” Skylar asked.
    Lovina pursed her lips, looking uncomfortable. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to her yet, Isaac.”
    “Why?” Isaac took three pancakes off the stack and flopped them onto his plate.
    “There hasn’t been a good time.” Lovina flicked a thumbnail against her index finger, looking a bit nervous.
    “Did you sleep in again, Skylar?” Isaac reached for the wooden bowl that had a weird, whitish butter in it.
    “A little.” Skylar hated mealtime conversations. The siblings were usually noisy and boisterous, except when their parents pinpointed one of them for interrogation. Where was the privacy for adults?
    Disbelief showed in Isaac’s eyes before he nodded. “How many hours of sleep are typical for you?”
    “Seven or eight, but I’m not sleeping well at night yet.” And by
yet
she meant she wouldn’t sleep well until she was no longer living like a pioneer.
    “Sure, I get it. Sometimes our bodies need us to take it easy. You’ve had a lot to adjust to, and that’s fine for another day, but it’s also important to work. Staying busy is good for the mind and body. It’s also good for us when we pull our weight.”
    “Pull my weight?”
    “Every single thing you eat, wear, or need, someone had to work to pay for it. In this home we work together to make ends meet.”
    “I’m supposed to work for food and the roof over my head?”
    “Honey.” Lovina put her hand over Isaac’s and patted it. “Are we supposed to get rain today or tomorrow?”
    Skylar knew a distraction move when she saw it. Her birth mom didn’t like the path of this conversation.
    Isaac paused and smiled at his wife. “I don’t think so. It’ll be cloudy, and some wind may kick up.” He returned his focus to Skylar. “Doing your fair share may sound unusual to you. Maybe your Englisch parents assumed all responsibility for paying for your needs. I think that’s a mistake.”
    “Wow.” Skylar rubbed her aching forehead. “So you believe the saying that idle hands are the devil’s