“Do you still want me to help with the flowers for your wedding?” Ruth questioned.

“Jah, sure.”

“You’ll need several fresh arrangements on the bridal table, and I’m thinking maybe one big bouquet in the center of each of the other tables would look nice.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Will you want some candles, too?”

Grace nodded.

“Since Cleon’s mother and sister make beeswax candles, I’m sure they’ll want to provide those.”

“Maybe so.”

“I hope Cleon knows how lucky he is to be marrying my big sister.”

“I–I’m the lucky one.” Grace picked at her dark green dress as if she noticed a piece of lint, but Ruth didn’t see anything. Of course, she couldn’t look too closely as she had to keep her eyes on the road. Just last week, a buggy coming down one of the hills on this stretch of road between Berlin and Charm had run into a deer.

Grace sighed, and Ruth gave her a sidelong glance. If something was bothering Grace, she would talk about it when she was ready. In the meantime, Ruth planned to enjoy the rest of their ride home. Shades of yellow, orange, and brown covered the birch, hickory, and beech trees, and leaves of red and purple adorned the maple, oak, and dogwood. A dappling of sunlight shining through the trees gave her the feeling that all was right with the world—at least her little world.

Cleon Schrock stepped up to the counter near the front of the restaurant where Grace worked and smiled at Sarah, the owner’s daughter. “I came to town on business about my bees, so I decided to stop and see Grace. Would you tell her I’m here?”

Sarah shook her head. “Sorry, but Grace got off work about ten minutes ago. Said something about meeting her sister, who had an interview at the bakeshop.”

“Okay, thanks.” As Cleon turned toward the door, he felt a keen sense of disappointment. He hadn’t seen Grace since the last preaching service, and that had been over a week ago. “Have a good evening, Sarah,” he called over his shoulder.

“You, too.”

Cleon opened the front door, and just as he stepped out, he bumped shoulders with a tall, red-haired English man. The fellow held a fancy-looking camera in one hand and a notebook with a chunky green pen clipped over the top in the other. “Sorry. Didn’t realize anyone was on the other side of the door,” Cleon said with a shake of his head.

“Not a problem. As long as you didn’t ruin this baby, no harm was done.” The man lifted his camera. “She’s my bread and butter these days.”

Cleon stood, letting the man’s words sink in. “Are you a newspaper reporter?”

“Nope. I’m a freelance photographer and reporter, and I’ve written for several publications.” He smiled, revealing a set of straight, pearly white teeth. “The pictures I submit often bring in more money than my articles.”

Cleon gave a quick nod; then he started to turn away.

“Say, I was wondering if you’d be willing to give me a quick interview. I’m trying to find out some information about the Amish in this area, and—”

“Sorry, not interested.” Cleon hurried down the steps and onto the sidewalk. The last thing he wanted was for the Englisher to start plying him with a lot of questions about the Amish way of life. He’d read a couple of articles about his people in the newspaper recently, and none of them had been accurate. Cleon rushed around back to the parking lot, untied his horse from the hitching rail, and climbed into the buggy. If he hurried, he might catch up with Grace and Ruth on their way home.

 Taken from A Sister's Secret © 2007 by Wanda E. Brunstetter. ISBN 978-1-59789-226-1.  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the publisher. 

Published by Barbour Publishing, Inc., P.O. Box 719, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683
www.barbourbooks.com.