"Do you always do what the elders say?" Both Ethan and Charity quoted rules and words of others. Did they ever think for themselves?
"Gelassenheit," he said. "That's German for patience and resignation. It means obedience to the Amish community. It is not something we do. It is something we
are."
Leah had been raised to be on her own. Her mother's many marriages, their frequent moves and different schools had taught her to be independent. But she saw quite clearly that for the Amish, individuality was not a virtue. It was a curse. She stood. "Well, it looks like we've come full circle, Ethan. You were right after all--the English and the Amish can't mingle."
He stood too. "But we can care about one another," he said carefully. "We can always care."
She knew he meant
care in a brotherly way. But after spending time with him, she didn't want to be just another sister to him. She wanted to be a girl who mattered to him the way Martha Dewberry mattered. Except that Leah wasn't Amish. And she never would be.
Copyright © 1996 by Lurlene McDaniel. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
