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around, just ask me.”
    Her smile faded. “I’m not asking for your help. I can manage quite well on my own.”
    “Ouch. The lady is touchy.”
    Her mouth dropped open in surprise. “I am not.”
    “Could have fooled me. That’s not very Amish of you.”
    Her mouth snapped shut. “What is that supposed to mean?”
    “The Amish are humble folks. Humble people accept help when it’s offered.”
    Torn between scolding him and turning the other cheek, as she knew she should, Rebecca pressed her lips closed on her comment. He was baiting her. She didn’t have to respond.
    “I’m right. Let me hear you admit it.”
    She said, “The Amish strive to be humble before God.”
    “Gets hard to do sometimes, doesn’t it?”
    She blew out a long breath. “Yes, sometimes it is hard. Anything worthwhile is often hard to obtain. That is why we must depend on God to aid us.”
    “Sorry if I offended you.”
    “You did, but you are forgiven. My aunt often tells me I am too proud and I must seek humility.”
    “It’s a foolish person who doesn’t heed goot advice.”
    Hearing her own words tossed back at her made Rebecca smile. “I do need to work on that.”
    Downstairs she heard the grandfather clock chiming the quarter hour and realized her headache had disappeared. Conversing with Booker was interesting to say the least. No one had ever asked if talking about her blindness made her uncomfortable. Usually they stammered apologies or sought to avoid mentioning it all together.
    “What kind of work do you do?” she asked.
    “I own a small airplane charter service.”
    “You are a pilot?”
    “Yes.”
    Sadness settled over her. “I once knew a young Amishman who wanted to fly. Is it wonderful to soar above the earth like a bird?”
    “It has its moments. What happened to him?”
    She grasped the key so tightly her fingers ached and she fought back tears. “The lure of the world pulled him away from our faith and he never came back.”
    After a long pause, he asked, “Were the two of you close?”
    “ Ja, very close.” Why was she sharing this with a stranger? Perhaps, because in some odd way he reminded her of Gideon.
    “Did you ever think about going with him?”
    She smiled sadly. “I didn’t believe he would leave. For a long time I thought it was my fault, but I know now it was not.”
    Booker stepped closer. “How can you be so sure?”
    She raised her chin. “He vowed before God and the people of our church to live by the rules of our Amish faith. If he could turn his back on his vow to God, it was not because of me.”
    “I imagine you’re right about that. Have you forgiven him?”
    She wished she could hear him speak in his normal voice. It was hard to read his emotions in the forced whisper he had to use. “Of course.”
    “If he came back, what would you do?”
    “If he came to ask forgiveness and repent I would be happy for him and for his family. I can have Emma Troyer make you some blackcurrant tea. It will make your throat better in no time.”
    “That’s what my mother used to do.”
    Did she imagine it or did she hear sorrow in his voice? “Is something wrong?”
    “I haven’t seen my mother in many years.”
    “Why?”
    “I’m estranged from my family.”
    “That is a very sad thing. Only God is more important than our families. You should go visit them as soon as you can. Thanksgiving is coming in a few weeks. That, surely, is reason enough to put aside your pride and go home.”
    “I wish that were possible, but it’s not. Good day, Rebecca.”
    She didn’t want him to leave but she couldn’t think of a way to stop him. The carpet muffled his footsteps as he walked away. She waited until she heard him descending the stairs before she entered her room.
    She closed the door and leaned against it. What did he look like? Was he handsome or plain? What made him sad when he talked about his family? Why hadn’t he visited them? There were many things she wanted to know about