A Change of Heart - By Beth Wiseman Page 0,2

the few dishes left on the table and put them next to the sink. “Like Mamm said, he’s very handsome, and he seems to have taken a liking to you.”

“He stares at me during worship service. But other than that, he doesn’t even know me.” Leah rinsed a plate and put it in the drying rack. “He was shy in school, barely talked to anyone.”

Edna reached for a dish towel, then picked up a plate and started to dry it. “That was four or five years ago. He’s quite talkative when I have supper with their family.”

Leah sighed. She’d much rather spend her free time upstairs working in her notebook, not making small talk with Aaron Lantz. Her story was coming along nicely, and she was anxious to get back to work on it.

“You missed a spot.” Edna handed the plate back to Leah and grabbed another one from the drain. “Leah . . .” She put the plate back in the water. “This one is still dirty too.” Edna shook her head. “I’m going to go clean up before Abner gets here. Maybe you should clean up a bit too, no?”

Leah blew upward and cleared a wayward strand of hair from her face. “I’m fine, Edna.”

Her sister shrugged and left the room.

Leah finished the dishes with dread in her heart. Why couldn’t they all just let her be? Now she’d be spending the evening with Aaron, a young man she barely knew and didn’t really care to know.

Chapter Two

MARIAN PULLED HER LONG WHITE NIGHTGOWN OVER HER head, then removed her prayer covering and allowed her wavy brown hair to fall almost to her waist. She folded the quilt on their bed to the bottom. It was much too hot for any covers . . . maybe just the light cotton sheet for tonight.

Rays of sunlight beamed through the window as the sun began its descent. It was too early for bed, but Marian wanted to give the young people some time to themselves. She was glad when James followed her upstairs after their evening devotions. As much as she ’d like to read for a while, she suspected James wanted to talk— about Leah.

Marian sat down on the bed and applied some lotion to her parched hands, then smoothed it up her arms, the cool cream a welcome relief from the heat. She was still wringing her hands together when James walked into the bedroom, his dark hair and beard still damp, his eyes filled with tiredness and concern.

“I don’t know what to do about Leah.” He stood in the middle of the room in only his black breeches.

Marian eyed her husband of twenty-one years. His broad shoulders carried the weight of his burdens. It was a sin to worry so much; that was one area in which James could learn from Leah. Their carefree, spirited daughter tested the limits at times, but Leah seldom allowed her worries to press down on her for long.

James inhaled a long, slow breath, and muscles rippled across a chest reflective of many years of hard work. “It’s not fair to the other maed when Leah shirks her responsibilities.”

“Ya, I know, James.” Marian patted a spot on the bed beside her. “Sit. And we will talk about it.”

James sat down and turned to face her. He ran a hand through her hair and twisted a few strands within his fingers. “So soft,” he whispered.

For a moment his eyes suggested that they not speak of Leah, but instead communicate with each other the way only a husband and wife can appreciate. But no sooner did the thought surface than Marian saw two deep lines of worry form on her husband’s forehead.

“I don’t like these stories she writes,” he finally said. His eyes narrowed. “They are of no use to her. I don’t understand why she tinkers with such nonsense.”

“James . . .” Marian cupped his cheek, raked a hand through his hair. “It’s not nonsense to her. She has an imagination. That’s all.”

Her husband sat taller and scowled. “It will do her no gut, this imagination of hers. These tales she pens are a waste of time, Marian.” His eyes widened. “And did you hear her at supper? She doesn’t even want to get wed.” He hung his head. “No fella I know would want to marry her.”

“James,” Marian huffed. “That’s a terrible thing to say about your maedel.”

He leaned back on his hands. “I worry that she will live with us the rest