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house.
    “That’s what a gut wife and mother does,” Rebecca said. “A gut bishop, too for the People. But sometimes things catch up with a person. There’s more to life than busyness. Rest is important . . and a gut book now and then.” She hoped she was
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    helping, by what she said. “It takes some doing, pacing oneself.”
    “I just seem to keep pushing myself here lately,” Mary confessed.
    “Well, why don’t I come over a couple afternoons a week for a while, let you spend some time by yourself while I cook supper . be there for the children after school and whatnot.”
    “Would ya?” Mary brightened.
    Rebecca nodded. “You’re the type of woman who always sees things to do. I know, I’m the same way. And Katie’s a lot like that …. ” She stopped herself. Hadn’t wanted to bring up her daughter. Not today.
    Mary’s eyes widened. “Oh . howisKatie?”
    Sighing, Rebecca pushed ahead. “She and Daniel seem happy as larks. They’ve found a ministry Katie says they’re both ‘called to.’ Mennonites have a different view on church music, ya know.”
    Mary seemed to understand. “Next time you see Katie, will ya tell her I pray for her
    every day that she’ll come to repentance?”
    Rebecca didn’t knouT what to say to that. Truth was, Katie and Clan seemed content to “serve the Lord” in their new church.
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    She wondered if the time might come when her “saved” daughter and son-in-law returned to the Amish church, but she was hesitant to say much more to Mary, who seemed so eager that it might be so.
    “Next time I talk to her, I’ll tell her what you said.”
    Mary fell silent, gripping her coffee cup too tight, it seemed. Then she added, “I miss Katie more than I can say. Would love to see her again.”
    Lest words fail her and both women end up grieving outwardly, Rebecca said no more.
    “Haven’t found such a dear friend as Katie in any of John’s sisters, and no girl cousin comes even close,” Mary con tinued.
    Sitting there in the quietude of Mary’s big kitchen, the beauty of the fields stretching out to the sky outside the window, Rebecca thought ‘twas the sad dest thing she had witnessed of late, this misery on Mary’s face. “We must re member that it was Katie who leftus
    she’s the one who broke her baptismal vow to God and the church,” Rebecca said.
    “I never thought she would show such discontentment,” whispered Mary, weep ing softly.
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    Reaching out to the young woman, she touched Mary’s hand. Surely the bishop’s wife was dwelling on the problem of Katie and Dan’s car ownership and them playin’ their guitars hither and yon — that they’d forced the People’s hand by embracing the world and all it had to offer. Had they merely gone off to another church, the chances of lifting the shun might’ve been something of a consideration. But owning and driving a car, embracing electricity and music — and breaking their baptismal vow — that was the biggest problem. Such action confirmed a restless spirit, one seeking after worldly things.
    “Maybe you and Gracie Eli’s wife will become close friends,” Rebecca said.
    That brought a smile to Mary’s face. “Invite her over sometime, jah?”
    Rebecca agreed. “I hear Gracie’s got a nice way with a story.”
    “There’s onlyonestoryteller in the hollow.” Mary squeezed Rebecca’s hand. “We all know who that is.”
    “Well, this here Teller ain’t getting any younger. There’s always room for another, I daresay.” Then, thinking on it, Rebecca had an idea. “Let me tell you a true story right now,” she said softly. “Maybe this’ll help some.”
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    Mary blew her nose and listened, the lines in her brow softening a bit as Rebecca began to describe a close relationship be tween identical twin sisters, “who lived in Somerset County in the Laurel Highlands of the southern Allegheny Mountains
    where the big thing is to churn butter by hand. ‘Course, there were other