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performance days. The bun always gave me a headache, and these poor girls had to endure that pain every day.
As I gazed at the women, noticing that they wore no makeup at all and that the clothes concealed their figures completely, I felt a strong sense of pity for them. It seemed they weren’t allowed any individuality at all.
It was then that I caught the tiny girl staring up at us. Her cap was jet-black and her dress a tiny replica of her mom’s. She was without a doubt the cutest child I’d ever seen. I gathered that she didn’t have many non-Amish people visit often by the way she was gawking at us with her mouth wide open.
There were so many kids. Surely they weren’t all Noah’s siblings. I counted eight, including Jacob, who was now coming up the driveway in an open buggy being pulled by a trotting, high-headed bay horse. Sitting next to him was a young Amish woman dressed in lavender. When they parked, I saw that she had a very pretty round face with a rosy complexion. She greeted me with a friendly smile.
My eyes were quickly drawn to the horse and buggy. How cool it would be to ride in one. That was the best part about being Amish, I imagined, riding around in the buggies. But I would definitely hate never being able to drive a car. I had my permit now and couldn’t wait to get my license. The very idea that none of these people would ever drive a car was mind-boggling to me.
Dad’s voice, thanking the Amish for the invitation to dinner, interrupted my thoughts, and then Mr. Miller proceeded to introduce his wife and all the kids. I tried to pay careful attention to each name, desperately attempting to quickly imprint to memory their faces and names. In the end, I knew I’d never be able to remember them all, especially when they looked so similar in dress and physical features. I couldn’t believe such a little woman gave birth to all those kids. Didn’t they use any birth control? I mean, who’d want to have that many children anyway?
An uncomfortable silence descended upon the gathering when the introductions were finished until one of the boys— Peter, I think, but I wouldn’t bet on it—offered to show us some puppies. It sounded like a great idea to me. A way to escape from the intense scrutiny I was beginning to feel.
I wanted Sam to come, too, and poked his arm. Thankfully, he turned and walked with me, following the boys, who had pulled away from us in their mad dash to the barn. He must have been feeling the heebie-jeebies also, or he probably wouldn’t have come.
In a whisper, Sam bent down to me and said, “That was awkward.”
Before I could answer, Noah fell in beside Sam. A quiet happiness spread through me and all because he was coming with us. How pitiful of me. Surely it was impossible to become love struck in a few hours? I had to control my facial expressions, I warned myself. I didn’t want him knowing.
Momentarily distracting my brain were the little puppy noises, whining and grunting, as we entered the open, airy hallway of the barn. The inside was as well kept as the outside, with a swept aisle and halters hung neatly on the pegs outside each black stall door. The smell of freshly baled alfalfa hit my senses immediately and I breathed the lush leafiness of it in deeply. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Noah look in my direction when I made the noise, with a quizzical look on his face.
“This is a great barn.” I dared to look right at him, and he smiled slightly.
“Thank you” was all he said, but he continued to watch me intently, with that same appraising manner he’d had when we first met in the foyer. I wondered what was going through his brain, when Justin called out to me.
“Rose, you’ve got to come here and see—there’s ten of ’em.” His voice was thrilled, and I reluctantly tore my gaze away from Noah to join Justin in the box stall.
I caught my breath, seeing that they were Australian shepherds. What a coincidence. I plopped down on the thickly