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when she heard Reuben come into the utility room from the outside, that the thought occurred to her. What if Emma had left the inheritance to him— the Mennonite boyfriend Esther spoke about? The thought chilled Rachel. Fingers of fear ran down her spine.
    Did Emma deliberately leave a trail to Rebecca, simply for a smoke screen…to throw us off? Was all our hard work for nothing? Did I drive Luke away by insisting that he snatch Emma’s letter—the one addressed to her attorney—from her mailbox to bring it to me? Was it all for naught?
    Rachel could still remember those awful words from the letter. “Then please name Rebecca Keim, of Union, Ohio, the daughter of Lester and Mattie Keim, as the primary beneficiary of all my property… contingent upon…that Rebecca Keim must not under any circumstances marry a non-Amish person.”
    What if Emma intended for Luke to find the letter, actually planned on me reading it, and all the while, cleverly covered up the real plan until it was too late. Is Emma to have her final revenge?
    She sat down at the kitchen table, and Reuben found her there.
    “I’m sorry,” he said and obviously meant something else entirely. He laid his hand tenderly on Rachel’s shoulder.
    “God is against us,” she whispered, to which he couldn’t have the slightest clue what she meant.
    “It’s a hard time for us all,” Reuben said, his fingers tightening on her shoulder. “She lived a good life, though.”

C HAPTER S IX
     

     
    T he windup alarm clock rattled up and down and clanged out its racket, waking Rebecca well before the regular choring time. She groped in the darkness and found the shutoff button before anyone else in the house awakened. Sleepily she found a match, slid the top across a dresser drawer bottom with a flick of her wrist, and lit it.
    Lifting the globe on the kerosene lamp, she transferred the flame to the wick just before the heat on the matchstick threatened to burn her fingers. In the chill of the room, she gasped as her hand almost slipped on the glass globe. One side had caught on the metal brackets and refused to budge. She tried again, holding her breath, and the globe finally slipped into place.
    With her suitcase already downstairs, Rebecca quickly changed into her traveling clothes and quietly left the room, carrying the kerosene lamp in one hand. Because of the early hour, she had planned to fix a bowl of cold cereal. Rebecca wasn’t surprised, though, to hear her mother’s footsteps coming from the main floor bedroom.
    “You really should have a hot breakfast,” Mattie whispered. “You won’t get there till after lunch.”
    Rebecca shook her head and poured cornflakes into a small bowl. “I’m okay.”
    Mattie slid onto the kitchen table bench. “Leona has a pattern for me. Make sure you don’t forget it.”
    “For you?” Rebecca glanced up before she added milk to the cereal.
    “The sewing. It might work a little better for some of the women than the one we have. Baby patterns are all different. She has one of Jonathon’s.”
    “I’ll try not to forget.”
    “Leona will help. She mentioned it in her last letter.”
    Rebecca nodded and glanced at the clock on the wall. If the van arrived at five at Edna’s, she still had plenty of time to walk across the road. Since this was the last stop, the van might even be a little late, but that wouldn’t be wise to depend on. They could wait, she supposed, but that wasn’t what she wanted.
    “You’ll be back late the day after the funeral.”
    “Might be early. Depends when they start back, I guess.”
    “Never as early as when they leave.” Mattie made a face.
    “Do I need to be back early? I guess you are shorthanded. Matthew’s doing Edna’s chores all week.”
    “Might as well get used to it,” Mattie said resolutely. “You are getting married, so I’ll have to help if things get too tight.”
    “What about Katie? She’s about old enough.”
    “Suppose so. They are growing