"It is wonderful-gute how many adjectives you can pack into one advertisement," Nathaniel said.

Kate kept reading. "'Milk, cheese, curds, cider, venison jerky, and quilts.' Cider from the Weavers' apples, I'll have you know."

"Jah, of course. I don't eat anything but Weaver apples." Nathaniel rolled onto his stomach, propped his chin in his hand, and gazed at Kate until his piercing eyes compelled her to look away. "Can I show you something?" he said.

"Of course," Kate said, glad to be able to reply with some semblance of composure. What was it about Nathaniel's stare that knocked her breathless and sent her head spinning into a jumble of random thoughts?

Nathaniel jumped to his feet and jogged in the direction of his buggy. Kate smiled at his boundless enthusiasm.

He returned carrying what looked like a small wooden box. When he came closer, Kate could see it was a miniature house complete with windows and a tiny front door. Without a word but grinning from ear to ear, he laid the house in her lap and sank next to her on the grass.

"Oy, anyhow!" Kate ran her fingers along the individually crafted shingles on the detailed roof and peeked inside the shuttered windows.

"Look at this," she said, as she swung the door open and shut on its little hinges.

"It's a birdhouse," he said. "There is an opening in the back so the birds don't have to learn how to open the door to get in, and there's a ledge to keep out the squirrels too."

Kate stroked the smooth walls and grooved shutters. "I have never seen anything so beautiful," she whispered.

Nathaniel beamed. "I thought you could hang it on one of the fence posts down your lane. With a good sturdy foundation, you can see it out the kitchen window."

Kate breathed in sharply. "Oh, sis yusht! Nathaniel. I cannot accept this. How many hours it must have taken you to make!"

Nathaniel's shoulders slumped, and he looked like a farmer whose crops were destroyed by hail. "You do not want it?"

"I like being with you just to be with you. Not because you bring me something."

His concern melted into a smile. "You like being with me?"

"Jah, certainly."

He contemplated that notion for a moment. "That is the nicest thing I have ever heard."

"Ever?"

"Certainly in the last ten years."

"Gute, then you understand you don't have to bring me gifts."

"But the first present I tried to give you went horribly wrong. I am trying to make up for it."

"And what present was that?"

"The kiss, of course. I liked you, so I naturally thought you must like me and were hoping for a kiss. But instead, you slugged me."

Kate nodded her head in satisfaction. "You deserved it. That was the worst moment of my life. At least in my eleven-year-old life."

Nathaniel grimaced. "The worst moment of your life. I have to live with that on my conscience." He picked up a pebble from the ground and rolled it around in his palm, his eyes glued to his hand. "Especially since it was the best moment of mine."

Kate giggled. "The best? Poor boy. You have led a very boring life."

He grinned. "Unfortunate but true. And, ach, how I have regretted it since."

"Of course you regret it. I hit you very hard."

He sat up and studied her face. "I regret that my actions hurt and embarrassed you. I would do anything to change that."

"I was eleven, Nathaniel. Exactly half my lifetime ago. I think I can move past it now, don't you?"

"You did allow me to bring you to Eicher's Dairy today. This is progress. Perhaps next week I will try taking you to Burger King." Nathaniel's eyes flickered with mischief, and he scattered grass on Kate's shoulder. "There has been a gross misunderstanding, though. I made this birdhouse for your mamm. You would not refuse a gift for your mamm, would you?"

Kate couldn't suppress a smile. "You are a rascal, Nathaniel King, and jah, my mamm would love a birdhouse." She put a hand up to halt his rejoicings. "But don't give her any more gifts, either, unless you are ready for a stern scolding."

Chapter Ten.

Kate ambled down the road, her basket hanging casually over her arm as she hummed "O Mio Babbino." Dat couldn't spare the buggy, so she was forced to walk the five miles to the Millers' house. Not that she minded. The crisp spring afternoon provided perfect weather for a stroll, and the long walk gave her plenty of time to be alone with her jumbled thoughts.

After "O Mio" she favored the fence posts with the "Queen of the Night" aria. The energetic tune inspired her to skip along the pavement. With every stanza, the sound got bigger and the dancing became livelier. "The Doll Song" was accompanied by hand waving and toe tapping that put Kate completely out of breath.

That must have been why she didn't hear the buggy come up behind her.

"Kate Weaver, what do you think you are about?"

Kate turned to see a buggy stopped in the middle of the road with two women staring curiously from the front seat.

Grinning, Edna Miller held tightly to the reins of her horse and leaned out of the buggy like a tree bent in the wind. "You better climb in here before someone sees you wildly flailing about, liebe. Someone besides me and my sister. We don't count, do we, Naomi?"

Naomi and her legendary sour disposition sat next to her sister with her arms folded and a prominent frown plastered on her face. "I think we count for plenty," she said.

"Denki," Kate said as she began to climb into the buggy.

"Nae, nae, sit in front," Edna said. "The back is loaded with Luke's stuff. That man is the worst pack rat I ever knew."

Kate squeezed into the front seat next to Naomi, who didn't seem to want to scoot over one bit for an unwelcome guest. Good thing all three of them were on the skinny side. Edna urged the horse forward.

"You are very kind to offer me a ride," Kate said. "I was actually coming to your house."

"My house? I am honored," Edna said. "But it is such a long walk-especially if you dance all the way."

"Acting awfully wild, if you ask me," Naomi said, sniffing the air as if expecting to pick up the scent of sin.

"Don't be rude, Naomi." Edna eyed Kate and smiled. "We're coming from my daughter Lizzie's house. The new baby isn't taking well to the nursing, and you should see Lizzie's timid husband. As helpless as a kitten in a canal."

"Oh, that is too bad," Kate said, trying to ignore the hostility oozing from Naomi as she stared unabashedly at Kate.

Edna glanced at her sister and sighed. "Lizzie will get the hang of it. That first little buplie is always so hard to nurse. "

Kate swallowed hard. "How is Lizzie feeling after the new baby?"

"Ach, poorly to be sure. The midwife said it was a hard delivery. Lizzie probably should have been in a hospital, but she's a little afraid of them. And she wanted to have her first baby at home. But with Naomi taking care of her, she'll be fit as a fiddle in no time. Naomi has a healer's touch. If she would show a cheery disposition once in a while, she wouldn't scare off so many patients."

Naomi leaned her elbow on her knee and pinned Kate with an accusatory stare. "It is high time you stopped all this nonsense."

Edna sighed again, louder. "Naomi, please."

"'Resist the devil, and he will flee from you,'" Naomi said.

Edna nudged her sister with her elbow. "Do you remember how we talked about sticking our nose into other people's business?"

Naomi snorted. "I'm simply saying what everybody is thinking."

Edna prodded the horse to go faster. "Naomi, Kate is a good girl. Shame on you for prying. Let's talk about something less distressing, like the dysentery epidemic in Africa."

Stifling a smile, Kate tucked a loose lock of hair under her kapp. "Nae, Edna, it is all right. I know what people must be thinking about me. But that is why we have rumschpringe-so young people can decide for themselves."

Naomi folded her arms and harrumphed. "It is shameful when children use the rumschpringe as an excuse for gross wickedness."

Kate found the courage to put her arm around Naomi, who looked at her as if she were a creature from another planet. "My Amish faith and my desire to sing have struggled with each other for many years. I want to know God's will for my life. If I want an answer, I have to do my part to get one. 'Faith without works is dead.'"

Naomi shrugged Kate's arm from her shoulders. "I can tell you right now: God wants you to be baptized."

"How do you know?" Kate said.

"Because He wants everyone to be baptized."

Edna clicked her tongue in indignation. "Naomi, do not presume to counsel the Almighty. You do not know."

"Here is where God has placed her. She should not seek to leave her place."

"Maybe the Almighty placed her here to struggle," Edna said. "He gave her a beautiful voice, didn't He?"

"But where does the wickedness end with that sort of life?" Naomi pressed a finger into Kate's arm. "I will tell you. It ends in your destruction."

The buggy jerked to a halt, and Edna breathed a sigh of relief. "To your house already, Naomi. Denki for coming with me."

Kate practically leaped out of the buggy. Naomi scooted over and slid slowly to the ground, grunting and panting as she went. When she steadied herself on her own two feet, she shook her finger in Kate's face. "Mark my words. The path you are on leads to nowhere but hell, young lady."

"Good-bye, Naomi. I'll be here at seven tomorrow morning," Edna chirped.

Kate climbed back into the buggy and Edna snapped the reins before Kate could even plant herself firmly in the seat. As they drove away, they watched Naomi hobble to her front door in her orthopedic shoes.

"I hope you will forgive Naomi," Edna said. "She tells it how she sees it, and sometimes she doesn't wear her glasses."

Kate managed a half smile. "You might not believe this, but all opinions are welcome. My dat would say that the ones that make me uncomfortable are the ones I should pay most attention to."

"Most young people are not mature enough to see the truth in that." Edna winked at Kate. "Naomi often has sensible opinions, but the way she delivers them chases away all but the most humble."

The clip-clop of the horse's hooves changed to a muffled crunching as they turned from the paved street to the gravel road that led to Edna's house.

"What's in the basket?" Edna asked.

"I brought you a loaf of bread and a jar of apple butter," Kate said, lifting the cloth draped over her basket.

"Bread and a visit. This really is an honor."

"I need some advice."

"Ah, shall I take you back to Naomi's? She hands out advice like trees hand out leaves in the fall."

Kate grinned and shook her head. "Maybe some other time."

"You come to counsel with Luke?"

"Nae, I want your advice."

"Me? I am not qualified to give advice to anyone," Edna said. "I am a simple Amish housewife who knows how to get my laundry clean, milk my cows, and cook a filling meal. Your mamma can do all of those things better than I."

"But you left the community once. During rumschpringe."

Edna nodded and pursed her lips. "I suppose I did."

"And you are the bishop's wife."

"Ach, what do I know as the bishop's wife? Luke does the ministering. I tend the house." She waved her hand dismissively. "Besides, I am not your bishop's wife."

"Bishop Schwartz is my sister-in-law Ada's father. It seems strange to go to him."

"Perhaps."

"I want to know why you left Apple Lake and why you came back. Or is it rude to ask something so personal?"

"Nae, but I do not talk about it much. It was such a long time ago. But Luke loves to tell the story."

"He does?"

"Oh, jah, he puffs out his chest and struts around because I chose him over a very handsome Englischer."

Kate pictured Luke Miller. A fine, gute man, but not handsome. His bushy eyebrows dominated his round face, and his cheeks were pockmarked with the scars of teenage acne.

"Todd Bryson was a sight. Curly golden hair and blue, blue eyes. I loved him-as much as an eighteen-year-old girl can know about love. He asked me to go to Chicago with him and a group of friends to live and find jobs."